The Cardinal Curses

Disclaimer : Harry Potter – not mine but JKR’s.

A/N. The Cardinal Curses is my first fanfic – am a Harmony shipper but expect a Hermione-OC pairing in this story. If you like mystery and can withstand angst then this story is for you.

XXXXXXXXXX

The Red Haired Man

“No!”

He woke up screaming, clutching his head as a blinding pain seared through it, as if trying to prevent it from exploding. He was sweating on this wintry night.

It took quite some time for him to finally get his bearings back and walked to the bathroom. The room was pitch black but he had no trouble finding the faucet and turning it on. His face welcomed the splash of cold water.

He successfully willed the light around the mirror to turn on and looked at the man that stared back at him. He ran his fingers through his unkempt red hair trying to make it go the other way without much success. His brown eyes were bloodshot. It was 4am and he had just two hours of sleep.

For the third time that week, he had a nightmare. All he could remember was what woke him up; a woman screaming in the background, a flash of green light, and a man falling back; a red-haired man with blue eyes and a surprised look on his face. Then as the red-haired man’s eyes closed, he could hear a woman’s voice, she was crying, almost whispering, “Ron…"

He looked at his reflection, focused and intense in concentration. Suddenly, his image on the mirror changed; red hair to jet black, brown eyes to green, nose shorter and lips fuller. Finally, a lightning bolt-shaped scar appeared on his forehead. Harry Potter thought he looked awful.

The nightmares were keeping him awake at night and Quidditch practices were tiring him out during the day. He must have been too weary to morph himself back after coming home from the pitch last night. Harry couldn’t really remember. The American World Series was about fourteen hours away and when he should have been worried about how to hang on to the broom and hopefully catch the snitch in his current physical state, the recurrent nightmare was not allowing him to get any rest at all.

He remembered how as students he and Ron aced dream interpretation through morbid creativity. Too bad he did not really have the gift of the inner eye. He was not sure if he was dreaming the past, the present or the future. Needless to say, a crying woman voice in the setting of a green flash of light was a dream he disliked the most.

He went down two flights of stairs and found himself in his basement laboratory. He took a sip from a flask with puce potion sitting on the counter and felt slightly less anxious. Sitting behind his big oak desk, he opened the bottom drawer and pulled out a picture with three laughing figures. It was taken after his and Ron’s graduation from the Auror Academy, about two years ago. Ron and Hermione were in an embrace, laughing with him, what about he could not remember.

Despite his calming tonic, Harry could not stop worrying about Ron. And that voice was unmistakably Hermione’s. He had not seen nor spoken with them for close to two years. They were in London. Ron was an Auror and Hermione, an Unspeakable for the Department of Mysteries. Harry was in the Bronx, seeker for the New York Skewrts. At least on the roster, red haired Philip Horton was.

Morphing was a skill Harry learned privately through Tonks during his last year at Hogwarts. It was common knowledge that metamorphosis was a skill that one was born with and could not be learned, but he always was quite uncommon. Without it, he would not have been able to do what he had done; make Harry Potter disappear from public view. And most all, in combination with the non-traceability charm, he had disappeared from the people he considered his family. It helped that he remained unregistered.

Deciding quite soon after the first nightmare that this was not due to stress, he poured over his subscription copy of the Daily Prophet for any news about deaths and injuries. He went as far as reading obituaries. Thankfully, there was nothing. But he had to be certain.

Harry, until his recent dreams, had no real intention to communicate with them. He needed more time away as he was not quite ready. After several attempts he finally attached a letter for Ron on Hedwig’s leg.

Ron,

I know it has been ages. How have you been?

Harry

“Find him, Hedwig. I need to know.”

Hedwig was delighted and flapped her wings. She rarely was sent on such errands anymore. It was going to be a long trip, and Harry did not expect Hedwig back until the next day.

He shoved the photo back into the bottom drawer, which was filled with many similar notes to the Weasleys, to Ron, to Hermione, all crumpled and unsent. He missed them more than anything. But he had to leave; not only because of what he had done, but more so because of what he knew he could have done had he stayed.

Closing his eyes, he hoped for some respite from the nagging desire to reminisce the events of those last few days. It was pointless. All this time he had tried, but had never had success banishing the memory into the deeper recesses of his mind. Harry relented, allowing his mind wandering back to that fateful day two years ago that changed his life…

“Harry! Harry! Wake up!” Ron shook Harry from deep slumber.

“What time is it?” Harry asked, rubbing his eyes and putting his round-rimmed glasses on. He realized he was in Ron’s room in the Burrow.

“Don’t know, late morning,” Ron sat on the opposite bed. “We haven’t much time to get ready for the ceremony. It’s not everyday one graduates from Auror Academy. And, also tonight’s definitely the night, Harry. Tonight’s the night I’ll do it!”

Ron was giddy with excitement and Harry knew what this was about. He had heard this before. He sat up on the bed and made better effort to appear attentive.

“Are you sure this time?”

“Definitely! I’m popping the question tonight. And I need to practice how to say it. Which sounds better, ‘spend the rest of your life with me’ or ‘be mine forever’.”

Harry wasn’t sure why Ron thought his opinion was of value, considering Harry had never been proposed to before, nor had he ever proposed to anyone.

“The answer is ‘no, thank you’. I’d much rather spend my life alone than be with you forever,” he jested, then seeing the crestfallen image of his best friend at the possibility of her answer indeed being that, he retracted, “Just like I told you the ten other times we talked about this, either would be fine, both if you want.”

“I just want to get it right the first time,” Ron said anxiously.

Harry laughed.

“Whatever you do, never share that thought with her. She might misunderstand and think you have the intention of asking the question more than once in your lifetime. If that happens, it will definitely be the first and last time you are going to ask that question!”

Ron threw a pillow at him, “Useless git of a friend. Come on, let’s get something to eat.”

Harry followed Ron down to the kitchen. The Burrow had not changed much since he first came the summer prior to his 2nd year at Hogwarts. Mr. Weasley still worked at the Ministry. Mrs. Weasley was off shopping for baby clothes that morning with Ginny. She and Dean were pregnant with twins, who were threatening to come anytime now. Bill and Fleur lived in France now and were raising three very active boys. Charlie was now Head of the biggest dragon reservation in Romania. Fred and George were busy with their joke shop and were branching into the entertainment business. Percy was still working as an assistant to the Prime Minister, Rufus Scrimgeour.

It was peacetime, four years after Harry vanquished the evil wizard Voldemort. It was no longer vogue to be a Death Eater, and nobody with sense would admit to supporting the use and propagation of the Dark Arts. Hogwarts re-opened its gates that following year, allowing Harry and his classmates to graduate and take NEWTs under Headmistress McGonagall.

Following Professor Dumbledore’s death, Ron and Hermione finally gave in to their attraction to each other. While not as overtly physical as the Won-Won affair with Lavender, Harry suspected that they were, as a courtesy to him, just not flaunting their relationship. If that was the case, it was definitely Hermione’s idea.

“When is Hermione coming?” Harry asked as he flicked his wand to put together a tuna sandwich.

“She’ll meet us at the Ministry. She’s working late again,” Ron answered glumly, with an obvious hint of disapproval on his voice. Harry noticed that lately, Ron was increasingly frustrated and disappointed in not being able to see Hermione or talk with her. She was now a full-pledged Unspeakable at the Department of Mysteries; she really could not talk about work. And because she was spending so much time at work, she didn’t do much else that they could talk about.

“Don’t give it away when you see her, okay? I want it to be a surprise.”

“No worries mate. You’ll get cold feet anyway, like the countless other times you said you would do it,” Harry countered, hoping Ron would take a hint. He did not have the heart to tell his best friend to abort.

After their Hogwarts graduation, Hermione broke Ron’s heart by telling him she did not wish to be an Auror, hence would not be joining him and Ron in the Academy. Instead, she chose to train in the Department of Mysteries, the youngest witch ever accepted. Not that the Ministry could refuse; Hermione aced all her NEWTs and was the most sought-after recruit after Harry. With Hermione busy in her training and Ron busy with school, Harry sensed that the relationship had become somewhat strained. In the past few months, a Hermione sighting in the Burrow was a rare event indeed.

Harry had a feeling that Hermione stayed away on purpose. She rarely spoke to Harry directly anymore and rarely was alone with him. She also started arguing with Ron at every opportunity. In fact, Ron’s previous attempted proposals were preceded by verbal wars such that Ron always forgot about what he was set to do. Their relationship, during the past couple of years, had so many valleys; he could not fathom why Ron would want to ask her to marry him. Yes, granted that Ron was a bit dense sometimes, maybe Ron thought the proposal would make it all better. Maybe, Hermione had been expecting a proposal and had been miffed at Ron for the delay.

Ron maybe read his mind. “I know it hasn’t been great lately, but I can’t imagine life without her, Harry. I have to ask and if I crash, then at least I tried.”

He sighed and nodded, “She might go for that line.”

Harry did not look at Ron as he secretly hoped he was wrong about that. He, too, could not imagine life without Hermione. And because life without her was a certainty for him, at the moment he could not imagine having a life, only an existence. He was hopeful that, eventually, as he had been able to do after Ginny, his heart would allow feel that way for someone else, someone who would have the same feelings for him.

Harry fell in love with Hermione their final year at Hogwarts. In the three years since, Harry thought he would lose his mind. He was thankful that she stayed away, but that made him yearn to see her more. He was unhappy for Ron’s misery when they had a fight, but overwhelmed with joy thinking he might have a chance. He was relieved Ron and Hermione were not overtly intimate, but still overcome with jealousy whenever they were together. Ron was definitely in love with her. He was almost certain that despite their recent troubles, she loved Ron too. His only wish was that the gnawing pain in his chest whenever he saw her would stop.

That final year in Hogwarts was the worse year Harry spent there; ironic that it would happen when Voldemort was gone. Harry spent less time with Ron and Hermione, though they tried their best to not make him feel left out. Ginny broke up with him that year too; devastating because Ginny was Harry’s first true love.

Depending on who you asked, the reasons for Ginny’s and Harry’s break-up varied. Ron said it was because Ginny was fed up with all the women who threw themselves onto Harry. Hermione believed it was the pressures of the constant spotlight brought upon their relationship. Ginny just wanted a normal life and could never have one with Harry. Harry felt Ginny just realized she did not truly love him.

With no evil wizard to battle and no muse to inspire him, Ron theorized that Harry was depressed for most of that year, as evidenced by his spending a lot more time in the library. Ron saw Harry there because he spent a lot of time there too; he did not have a choice!

Hermione took up his ‘cause’ as she did before for the house elves and for Buckbeak. She convinced Harry to go on double dates with her and Ron, finally giving up on the fifth one, after Harry and Ron kept laughing at the fact that Melissa, the 4th year Hufflepuff who had passed Hermione’s stringent approval process, kept on fainting every time Harry addressed her.

It was during those double dates when Harry realized he was attracted to Hermione. It wasn’t just a physical one, though Hermione was beautiful. He loved being with her, her personality and quirks and how she was passionate about almost everything. From the start he tried to undo his feelings and discourage it. He purposely avoided being alone with her and busied himself with studying and Quidditch. He even asked Tonks to teach him how to morph to kill time not thinking about her. But despite all that, the physical and emotional attraction only grew stronger, and he was powerless to stop it.

That was three years ago.

The graduation that afternoon was well attended. There were ten other Aurors in Harry’s class. The ceremony was finally over in two hours. Harry thought it should not have been such a big deal, but apparently was for most.

The Weasleys were all there. Moody, Remus and Tonks were also in attendance. Harry saw Hermione slip into the room just as Ron was being announced. She took his breath away. Then it came; the skip of a beat and a gnawing pain in his chest. She caught his gaze, waved and smiled at him. He smiled back. It was sheer torture.

The Department had that year started a tradition of hosting a dinner and dance for family and friends after Auror graduation. Never in the history of the Auror Academy had they graduated more than three. This year, it was being held in a Wizards-Only bar restaurant called the Screeching Moon a few blocks from the Ministry. It was a chance for the seniors to get to know the rookies. No wonder their class had been a relatively big one; the war with Voldemort had depleted its ranks. And while there were not a lot of openly practicing dark wizards anymore, the Ministry had to maintain constant vigilance.

After a pleasant dinner came the dancing. Ron and Hermione took to the dance floor and seemed like they were having a great time. Maybe, tonight was the night as Ron had said. He half-wished Ron would succeed tonight, maybe that would make this pain go away. And maybe, it would give him that finality that he would never be with her and there would be hope for him in the future to find a woman interesting enough to have a meaningful relationship with. He so longed to have the intimacy the couples around him had.

“Wotcher, Harry,” he heard Tonks say as she sat beside him. “I think it’s only Ron who hasn’t noticed you looking at Hermione.”

He smiled at her weakly, thinking he had to ease up on the alcohol and find something else to do.

Tonks must have read his mind.

“Can you dance with this old lady? I’m afraid Remus might not last through one.”

He did not care much for dancing, but relented to Tonks’ request after seeing that Remus did indeed look peaky that night following a full moon.

“Only if the old lady doesn’t mind being stepped on a few times,” he said to Tonks.

She laughed. Tonks was beautiful and tonight she came pretty much without any disguise except for looking a bit older than she really was, to prevent people from mistaking Remus to be her father.

She took her wand from her purse, made sure no one was looking and waved her wand at her feet.

“There. Steel-toed boots but light as a feather. That should work!”

It was getting deeper into the night and firewhiskey was flowing freely from the bar. Tonks and Remus were saying goodbye, and so were the Weasleys. Ginny took him aside just as she and Dean were leaving.

“Can you take Hermione home?”

“Why, where’s Ron?” he surveyed the bar. He did not see him, or Hermione. Worried, he asked, “Is she alright? Where is she?”

“There’s a backroom through that corridor; Unspeakables use it,” she motioned to the hallway right behind Harry. “She and Ron had a row and he left quite upset. She knows she can’t handle firewhiskey and I don’t think she’s in a state to apparate by herself, though you might have difficulty convincing her.”

“What did they fight about this time?”

“I’ve been with her for the past hour and she wouldn’t say. Was he attempting a proposal again?” Harry nodded. “Well, she’s been arguing with him just to prevent him from asking so that’s probably what happened.”

Harry had this puzzled look on his face. “Why would she do that?”

Ginny shook her head, “Sometimes you can be so dense. She doesn’t want to say ‘yes’.”

“Then she should just say ‘no’.”

“Harry, she doesn’t want to say that either.”

Harry was more confused.

“Sorry Harry, no time to explain, and I don’t think you will ever understand anyway. It’s one of those things only women can figure out. So you’ll take care of her?”

“Of course,” Harry answered. He waved to Ginny as she Disapparated.

Harry found Hermione just where Ginny had said he would. She was by herself, staring at a half full glass of firewhiskey. An almost empty bottle was beside it. Seeing her that way broke his heart.

“Had enough of this place? Ready to go?” he took the glass from her hand and set it aside.

She looked up. Her brown eyes were dry but could feel them weeping. They were so sad, and he wondered how they got that way. A feeble smile curved around her lips.

“Ginny put you up to this. I told her I would be fine.”

“Yeah, she thought otherwise. And don’t even think about convincing me not to take you home,“ he interrupted as he saw Hermione about to argue, “I don’t want to get in trouble with her. Her hexes are in overdrive being pregnant with twins and I think she would welcome any excuse to use them.”

She laughed, left a couple of galleons on the table and waved to the bartender.

“Thanks Tom,” she said, obviously frequenting the place that they knew each other.

“Take it easy,” the man replied.

“Nice man, Tom,” Hermione told Harry as he helped her into her cloak, “He was a wizard, you know, lost it all when he lost his love; really sad story. I feel like a walk tonight, do you mind?”

Her apartment was only a few blocks away.

“I don’t mind,” he replied. It meant it would give him more time to be with her.

They stepped out on the street and walked side by side in silence for a couple of minutes.

“How have you been?” Harry broke the stillness. He missed having talks with her.

“Busy and miserable,” she said half-jokingly, grinning to herself.

“You sound quite pleased that you are,” Harry recognized an opening to ask, “Do you want to talk about Ron?”

He looked to his left to gauge her reaction. She looked back at him, smiled, and shook her head.

“I’ll spare you the ongoing saga, but I appreciate you asking.”

She moved closer to him and held his arm as they continued to walk.

“Do you want to talk about work?”

“We could, but I’d have to obliviate you right after.”

They both laughed. They talked about the graduation, about Ginny’s pregnancy and how she was driving Dean, and everyone else in the family, crazy. They talked about their other Hogwarts classmates and where they were. Time went by so fast. About half a block away from Hermione’s apartment, they were interrupted when a woman’s voice called out, “Harry, Harry Potter!”

Both Hermione and Harry turned around, hands on their wands and ready. A beautiful blonde woman with long hair approached them. She stopped in front of Harry, looked at him seductively and placed a calling card in Harry’s hand.

“Call me when you’re done with her so you can be with a real woman.”

Both Hermione and Harry burst out laughing, and Barbara’s (the blonde woman) face became deep scarlet. Harry put the card back into the blonde woman’s hand, still laughing.

“I’m so sorry, but that’s the most ridiculous pick-up line I’ve ever heard! Thanks. And by the way, my friend here is more woman than you’ll ever be.”

Hermione snatched the card back and put it in Harry’s pocket, “Oh, don’t be rude Harry,” and turning to Barbara, “He does need a real woman, he’ll come around in a few days and give you a call, hopefully you won’t be as angry with him then.”

Barbara stormed off into the darkness still fuming, leaving Harry and Hermione still laughing. They began to walk again.

“Harry, she was obviously a fan. How could you crush her hopes and dreams just like that!”

“Actually, don’t you remember the last time I didn’t do that and went out with a fan? It ended very badly. But what have you done with my friend? The old Hermione would have never allowed me to hook up with some girl who walked up to me in the street! Are you sure there is nothing in your mind screaming to get out saying ‘she could be diseased, she could be the Bellatrix Lestrange incarnate’ because I can hear you in mine!”

“Nonsense! How could you pass up someone that ballsy and attractive? I know you haven’t had a serious relationship since Ginny and that’s a shame Harry. You have to move on.”

“I have moved on,” I just haven’t moved on because of you, he thought. He felt the need to steer the conversation away from current topic. “So, you mean to tell me that you would go out with a total stranger you met on the street who hands you a card and tells you he would be more man than Ron?”

“Absolutely!” she said in a heartbeat.

“Yeah, right,” he doubted it.

“Haven’t been proven wrong yet. By the way thanks for trying to defend my ego, ‘more woman than you’ll ever be’?” They were both laughing hard now that they were waking up a few drunks on the sidewalk.

“Well, she was really stupid insulting you like that. She should really thank me for saving her the fate of Lestrange, what did the healers call it? The Granger Curse?”

Hermione feigned shock that Harry could think she could do something like that, “How even more insulting for a friend like you to think I would curse anyone who insulted me! By the way, it was way too funny to be insulting.”

Finally, they were just outside Hermione’s apartment building in downtown London. Harry looked at the time-teller in the lobby. It was 2a.m.

“Why don’t you stay? No use waking up Dobby at this time of the night.”

She was right. Despite Harry constantly telling Dobby not to meet him on arrival at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, because he was a free elf, he could do whatever he wanted. And besides, he was having too much fun with her he really did not want the night to end.

She nodded to the concierge and walked to the elevators with Harry. The building itself was owned by the Ministry and boasted of anti Apparition security and other impenetrable charms. Being an Unspeakable had its perks, Harry thought. The Ministry thought they had enough on their minds to constantly think about where they were. For Aurors, they preferred to have them live with all of that to maintain their edge all the time.

Hermione lived on the 5th floor; a good-sized pad with a couple of bedrooms. The living space appeared barely lived in. Hermione’s bedroom seemed hardly used either. She had converted the other room into an office and that, he saw, was where she spent a lot of time.

From his previous visits to her pad with Ron, he learned that Hermione preferred to live there without, as much as possible, performing magic. She said it kept her grounded to her Muggle parentage and she also did it to remind herself of her parents. She lost both of them the year before to a skiing accident during one of their vacations.

“The couch is really comfortable. I’ve broken it in myself,” she said handing Harry a couple of pillows and a blanket she had taken from the nearby linen closet.

Harry suddenly felt tired but still disappointed Hermione seemed ready to turn in for the night.

“Thanks,” he replied and she began to walk into her bedroom. An image of him walking in to follow her flashed into his mind and he quickly shook it off.

She turned to face him at the doorway and asked, “Is there anything else that you need?”

She looked so beautiful and so vulnerable; yes, he did need something else. If you could only read my mind, he thought as he saw an image of her undressing and coming to him.

He had had so many impure thoughts about Hermione, his best friend, over the past couple of years that he no longer chastised himself each time he did it. He figured that since he would never act on it, it shouldn’t and wouldn’t make him feel guilty.

Finally disrupting his revelry, he said to her, “No, thanks. Good night.”

“Good night. And thanks for taking me home.”

Harry nodded and lay on the couch. He heard the shower come on and listened as he heard her in it. More impure thoughts were overcome by an intense desire to close his eyes and rest, thinking, he should have just gone home and woken Dobby up.

Then he dreamed. He was with her, in the shower, naked. She had her back to him and he was kissing the length of her neck, he saw her smile as she turned and they kissed on the mouth, full of deep longing. They could not stop, not even to breath, as if afraid that the dream would end when they did…

Chapter 2. How Not To Lose A Friend

Steam had already clouded the bathroom mirror completely as Hermione shut off the shower. She felt so tired. She looked tired. She had a long day at work and an even longer night with Ron. She did not know what to do about him.

Hermione had long ago realized that they should stop seeing each other romantically. She came to this conclusion near the end of their last year at Hogwarts and had since then tried almost everything to get Ron to see it too. She cared for him very deeply, and she did think that at one point she was in love with him. But over time the arguments, the differences in outlook and the disparate views made it clear to her that that they should not be together.

She tried, several times, pointing this out to him and telling him they should break up. Ron disagreed, and in the end just refused to listen. Ron finally said that the only possible reason he would agree to break up with her was if she was in love or if she wanted to start seeing someone else.

It still puzzled her why Ron would want to stay with someone who did not want to stay with him. She wondered if he was hanging on because of a perceived chance that she would realize how much he wanted to stay with her and that would be enough for her to change her mind. It was unfortunate that after three years, he still could not see that they had no future as a couple.

Ron was just being so unreasonable about this but Hermione did not want to lose Ron as a friend. That would mean not being able to see much of Harry, Ginny and the Weasleys, possibly forever, and they were the only family she had left. And it was for this reason that she allowed it.

She also agreed to this stupid arrangement because it was convenient. She was too busy at work and it helped that wizards thought her unavailable for any sort of romantic interlude. It was also a great excuse for when she turned down those who either thought poaching was acceptable or just did it for sport. At the moment, there was really no time for the frivolities of romance in her life.

Hermione remembered how it was with Ron during the early stages. There was the snogging, the dating, the jealousy, the demands, the arguments and all the emotional distraction it resulted into. It was a diversion when they were happy and a disruption when they had fights. She actually felt she would have done better with her NEWTs had they not had a big spat leading up to it, because Ron felt they were spending so much time studying for it.

They had a simple enough understanding; she would be his girlfriend until she wanted to be someone else’s. At the moment, she really did not want to see anyone. However, recognizing that any decent guy wouldn’t express any interest in her while she was with Ron, there was also Plan B; get him to give up.

Her plan on how to get him to agree to breaking up with her on his terms was to be the worst girlfriend imaginable. Though not the major factor, it made it easy for her to decide against joining him to become an Auror and went into a field she knew he would not pursue. She busied herself in training, which was not really hard to do because she was really busy, and as a result saw him less. The few times that she saw him, she avoided situations that would lead them to intimacy and argued with him about almost anything. Again, the latter just kind of spontaneously happened anyway.

She was hoping that by being that terrible he would be able to see other women and realize he could be happier. The only thing she could not bring herself to do was see someone else just for the sake of Ron letting her go. And true to his word, Ron was hanging on. Maybe she wasn’t really being terrible enough.

Two years ago, though quite unexpectedly, she did have an interesting relationship with a Muggle boy she had known almost all her life. She first met him when, as a know-it-all precocious 6-year old, she was invited to his birthday party. They actually went to school together before Hermione came to Hogwarts and frequently saw each other during the holidays because their families went to the same social functions.

It was Christmas time; her parents invited his parents to vacation at the same ski resort. They were dragged to come, emotionally blackmailed actually. Hermione did not want to go because it was her first year in training and was afraid she would miss out on something really important; he did not want to come either because he was wrapping up his first major case as an Inspector at Scotland Yard. They were grumpy and miserable the first couple of days, really quite great company for Christmas holidays. Her impression of him while growing up (and during those first few days) was that he was a spoiled, mean, egocentric brat. Actually, that was her impression of all her parents’ friends’ kids.

Hermione suspected that their parents connived this elaborate vacation to give them a chance to know one another. They were left to fend for themselves as their parents went off to unknown and probably made-up functions that they supposedly could not join. His parents were constantly telling him to take her somewhere, to do something with her, which annoyed her because they assumed she was so lame that she would not be able to figure out what to do with herself. And more so, it annoyed her that he did as his parents asked. By circumstance, they ended up spending a lot of time together, and unexpectedly grew fond of each other.

He was three years older than she was, very charming, quite attractive and down to earth. From what his parents told her parents, which they made sure she overheard, they forced him to take some time off because he had just come out of a relationship that ended when his long-time girlfriend ran off with his partner, a result of him working too hard and not having time for her. That certainly was something Hermione wished could happen to her. Maybe she could draw a few good pointers from his experience.

She quickly changed her mind about him and liked him enough to consider having a more serious relationship with him. Towards the end of the two weeks, they had difficulty keeping their hands off each other, and were making excuses so they could spend more time alone. She owled Ron about him; his reply was a very hastily and forcibly written “Good luck!”

Unfortunately, the Muggle failed the ultimate test; freaking out when Hermione told and showed him she was a witch. It was the classic witch tragic love story — witch meets Muggle, likes Muggle enough to reveal self, scares Muggle off. As a credit to Ron, he did not take the opportunity to rub that in.

The conundrum she had about Ron was unbeknownst to others. She knew Ron was a proud man and it would devastate him if she started telling his family and friends about them. As a friend, she owed it to him to tell them himself. So for appearances sake, she let everyone continue to believe that they were still a couple, albeit a bad one.

To complicate matters, Hermione was noticing that Ron was becoming more persistent lately. She felt it was her fault, really. She did wonder if her lack of firmness with him would ultimately cause more problems and true enough it now was. After three years of tolerating their arrangement, what was Ron supposed to think? With his impending graduation from the Auror Academy, his younger sister and other siblings already starting families, settling down was the most logical next step for him.

She wasn’t supposed to but on the one occasion she could not resist practicing her newly found Legilimency skills on him, she found out that he was going to propose to her. What was he thinking? Did he actually believe that she would say yes? Granting that she was a willing participant to the farce of a relationship they had, surely, he couldn’t think she would be willing to make this lie permanent!

While she was too frightened to look into his thoughts again, she could tell when he was planning to propose and she felt it would be too unkind to have him go through with it. Last night, at the reception, Ron attempted to propose again, and again, Hermione sensed it was coming so she shot it down before he did. Ron stormed out, his face as red as his hair. Hermione thought his reaction was quite appropriate for someone who had been trying to get it out five times.

True, she could have just allowed him to ask and she could have said ‘no’. But she did not want him to waste that moment on her. He deserved at least a chance the first time he popped such an important question.

She cried for him, she cried for them, and she cried for how they had ruined what once was a great friendship. She disappeared in the back to chat with Tom the bartender, after all, that’s what bartenders were for, except Ginny had spotted and followed her. Then Harry came later.

She donned some pyjamas and set off to the kitchen to make some tea. While her body craved sleep and rest, her brain was still in overdrive. Taking a sip of warm Earl Grey, she hoped this would make it stop whirring. Her mind was chastising itself for inviting a guest over.

You shouldn’t have had that much firewhiskey. If you didn’t Ginny wouldn’t have fussed and asked Harry to take you home. If he didn’t take you home, you wouldn’t have had such a great time with him and you wouldn’t have invited him to spend the night. Hermione, you should know better. Did you just not say you didn’t have time for this?


She looked over at the sofa and saw Harry fast asleep. Hermione walked over to the living room, lit the fireplace and sat on the couch opposite him with her knees drawn up to her chest, cupping her mug of tea with both hands. She wanted this opportunity, to look at him without anyone around, without him knowing, and allow her time to evaluate how she felt about him. Since their last year at Hogwarts, Hermione was quite sure that her feelings for Harry were not merely platonic.

The emotional bond was quite understandable. It was almost impossible not to have that after the many times they had both saved each other from mortal peril. They would do anything for the other in an instant, as Ron would too. Harry seemed to understand and trust her, and she definitely trusted him. Hermione’s main concern was the physical attraction for him that seemed to have grown over the past couple of years. She first noticed it while screening potential girls to go out with him after his break-up with Ginny.

She could remember the exact moment; they were at Madame Puddifoot’s on a double date. Harry’s date kept fainting whenever he talked to her so finally, after the fourth time this happened, they, Ron, Harry and she, decided this wasn’t going to work. The girl was so weak just from being around Harry so Ron had to take her back to Hogwarts to see Madam Pomfrey. Harry and Hermione stayed and were talking about all the girls he had dated and how he just did not find them interesting. He said maybe, he just wasn’t ready yet. Very seriously, he asked Hermione to stop playing matchmaker and make better use of her time.

It may have been because of where they were, the smooching couples all round them, the scented candles, the romantic music, how they were seated so close to one another, and the seriousness of their conversation, but she all of a sudden noticed how attractive he was. For the first time she really looked into his green eyes and almost drowned in them. Her awareness was so troubling she had to hurriedly excuse herself so she could pull herself together. From then on, Hermione felt uncomfortable being alone with him.

At a safe distance, in the presence of crowds, and, like right now, when asleep, Hermione felt fine. She was alarmed by how she felt when they were alone or when Harry was within arms reach of her. She literally would have difficulty breathing, as if a force that she could not compete with was sucking all the air in her vicinity. So she avoided him, or escaped fast enough before fainting like that girl he had dated.

Some would argue that this reaction would be true for almost every witch of Harry Potter’s generation. After all, Harry was a handsome man and he did rid the world of the most evil dark lord ever born. He was For Witches Only’s most eligible bachelor weekly since he became of age.

But still, Hermione wanted to put an end to her breathing problem and to the nice but totally inappropriate dreams she was having about him. She sought to spend time and talk with him like before, like tonight. His friendship meant more to her than anything else. This was Harry, a boy she had known when his having a scar was the only thing that made him famous, her best friend who she fought alongside with against the most evil dark wizard of their time. He would be revolted with the thought that she had become a groupie! Hermione felt that she should be above all that.

But smart as she was she was still at a loss on how to go about putting an end to this attraction. The onboard firewhiskey certainly allowed her to feel ‘normal’ that night, normal enough to talk with him; but she doubted taking a swig of firewhiskey whenever they were together could go unnoticed. She thought maybe it would go away if he was seriously seeing someone else and wondered whether he would allow her to start setting him up again.

What if he has the same feelings for you? That would be great!

No, don’t even go there. Remember you thought that would happen with Ron and see where you are with him now.

But Harry is different. He could be the one.

Or he could be not interested at all and be totally freaked out if you talk to him about it. You cannot lose another best friend just because you’re reacting to your hormones. Get a grip. Go take another shower, a cold one.

Admit it. The reason why you haven’t been able to do the one thing that Ron said could make him break up with you is because you compare everyone to Harry and they will always pale in comparison.

There is nothing wrong with having a standard. And besides, I did try to pursue a relationship with another man; I don’t remember comparing him to Harry; it just didn’t work out.

Fine, go with that, but unless you allow someone to be as close to you as Harry is, no one will ever measure up. And no one will ever get close because of Ron. Take a chance with Harry. Look at it this way; if you and Harry become a couple, you would definitely be rid of Ron.

I’m sure Ron would just be ecstatic for us and most likely do something that will earn him lodging in Azkaban. And that would be very wrong. It will not only destroy the friendship I have been trying to salvage all these years with this stupid arrangement with Ron, it will also destroy Harry’s friendship with Ron.

You think too much. If you take a chance and fail, the worse that can happen is you end up alone. If you take a chance and succeed, you could have so much fun.

I think fun is over-rated. There is so much at risk here. And again, he’s not interested.

You don’t know that for sure.

Well, if he were interested, he wouldn’t do anything about it because of Ron.

You’re not really with Ron anymore.

He doesn’t know that.

And your point is…Maybe you should tell Harry.

I can’t, not for something I don’t know for sure. Either way it’s a moot point.

You’re mental. Then you should not have invited him to spend the night. Stop playing around because you are just going to hurt everyone you care for, including yourself, for something that you clearly realize does not have a promising future.

I agree.

With that thought, Hermione decided to turn in just as Harry moved and his blanket fell to the floor. Hermione walked up to his couch and positioned the blanket back on him. As she did, he heard him moan what she thought sounded like her name. She leaned over him and moved her ear closer to his lips. She waited. Then she heard her name again, the soft warm air from his mouth evoking a tingling feeling deep within her.

She turned and found it impossible to move away now. She could see every detail of his face from where she was. His dark hair, the scar on his forehead and she found herself drawn to his mouth. She remembered that one time in their final year, they leaned over to kiss to congratulate each other on graduation day. By accident their lips met and she thought that they both held it longer than they had to. For a brief moment, warmth enveloped her entire being and she felt butterflies flutter inside her. Would it feel the same if she kissed him right now?

Now, her thoughts were battling again. About why she should and about why she shouldn’t.

He’s your best friend. This is not going to end well.

I just want to know how it feels to kiss him.

Stick with the dreams, Hermione. It’s safer and probably better. Think of Ron. Think of how he is going to feel when he finds out you’re giving Harry one of the few things he can say Harry wouldn’t have.

I want to know if he will kiss back.

If he does?

It will be interesting.

And if he doesn’t?

Then I’ll know and I won’t have to wonder anymore. I can move on and settle for someone else.

You’ll freak him out.

I’ll make up an excuse.

You will lose him.

I can always blame it on the firewhiskey.

Finally, fed up with her thoughts, Hermione stopped thinking, leaned in closer and did what she felt she had to do.

Chapter 3. To Drink or Not to Drink

Harry woke up at some point but there was something off. He was awake but could still feel her soft lips on his, prodding and prying. He could now smell her hair and feel her smooth naked skin in his hands, which were somehow under her clothes. Then he heard her moan involuntarily as his caress found her breast. He had been with other women that way and imagined them to be her, but that voice was definitely Hermione’s.

Harry wanted to be sure. He opened his eyes and saw Hermione in a way he had never seen her before. They were on the couch; their bodies entwined and seemingly more ablaze than the fireplace that dimly lit the living room. He parted her lips with his and caught her gasp of breath as his tongue found hers. She returned each and every kiss with equal fire, if not more, encouraging him and making him feel that she wanted this as much as he did; she needed this as much as he did. He felt her fingers come out from underneath his shirt and started the task of unbuttoning and undressing him. As she got to the last two buttons of his shirt, she pulled her face away from his and started kissing his chest, retracing where her fingers had been. He was not dreaming; this was real.

Each touch and kiss Harry felt burn into his skin like fire, fire … firewhiskey … she was not herself, maybe she thinks I’m…no…this is not the time to ask her if she realizes I’m not Ron…that might matter…I can’t ask her to stop…. I can ask her later…this is just as I had imagined it would be…argh! I hate you Potter…

“Herm…Hermione….”, he struggled to get her name out, it was so difficult to focus, “Hermione, wait!”

She stopped, and pulled herself up towards him. They could see each other’s face as the fire cast shadows on them. They were both out of breath, hearts pounding, and passion burning in their eyes.

“I’m not…” she quickly put two fingers on his lips before he could mention his name. She seemed to know what he was thinking.

“Sssshhh…yes Harry, I know it’s you. I know it’s us.” She waited.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” Harry thought about Ron, about his friendship and about the only family he had. He was half-hoping Hermione would stop them both and be the voice of reason.

“He…he doesn’t have to know. And we can always forget about this one night, after tonight…”her smouldering brown eyes were awaiting an answer from Harry’s green. Harry heard what she said, but beneath the desire in her eyes he sensed she was unsure of whether or not they could do what she was saying they would do, whatever it was.

“Just one night…” he repeated, not fully knowing what the words meant.

“Yes, just one night, just us for one night.” Hermione answered, almost a whisper.

“I love you, Hermione”, he could not stop himself from saying what he had been longing to tell her all these years.

“Harry…” she said softly in his ear, an unnoticed tear ran down her right cheek as they embraced.

Harry took her lips with his again, their kisses sweet and deep. He got them up; he carried her into her bedroom and gently lowered her onto her bed. He undressed her and she undressed him. They had gone too far and were powerless to stop as the years of yearning overcame all reason they shouldn’t. How many times had Harry said to himself he would give anything for one night like this with her? As she said, it was one night.

They thought only of each other, of the moment, without the encumbrance of tomorrow and what would happen. They made love like it was their first and last, with both urgency and patience, making each kiss and each touch count, savouring each moment as if they would never have the chance to do it again. And as their bodies became and moved as one, they both experienced an ecstasy they had never had before. Later, Harry held Hermione in his arms, in silence, as they had said all they had wanted to say to each other without so many words. That was their moment and theirs alone. For the first time in a long while, both slept well.

Hermione stirred. It must have been just after 5am. She felt Harry’s warm body beside her and turned to face him. What an amazing night they just had. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought it could be like that.

She came to accept what her body had been trying to tell her all these years. She loved Harry Potter and she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. That night was the first time she had totally given herself to someone she loved and it was incredible. Awaking to this sight and this feeling everyday was something she definitely could get used to.

So he you kissed back and did more to make it interesting, what now?

She didn’t really think that he would kiss her so she never thought it through. A sinking feeling suddenly overcame her. All the warnings about losing friends and family came crashing down and it dawned on her that today was the tomorrow they had to face. She had to do some damage control. Hermione tried to remember what she said they would do. It was no longer a question of whether or not anybody was going to get hurt, but when and how much.

She thought about Ron; she had to tell him about Harry; definitely a less detailed version of how she felt and, at least for a long time, definitely nothing about their intimate night. Telling him everything would mean irreparable injury to his and Harry’s friendship. She could not be the reason for that, or for Harry losing the Weasleys. Hermione was very concerned about Ron’s initial reaction; afraid he would lose control of his temper and do something reckless and unintelligent.

And if Ron pointedly asked if this night happened, she would lie. Ron would have left for that assignment by now. She had a couple of weeks before Ron would return; she would have time to practice and make it believable.

And what about Harry?

She did not know for sure how he felt about her. She had no idea that he had this physical attraction for her prior to last night. And really, it could be just physical. He could have just needed a warm body for a night and she could have been almost anyone, even that blonde haired girl Barbara. He said he loved her and she wondered if he meant it in the way she hoped it meant. But didn’t men typically say brainless things like that when they sleep with women?

She thought about his reaction to her suggestion, of it being just one night and she got the impression that he agreed that it had to be so they would not hurt anyone. She debated against waking him to ask, not wanting a pressured response. Harry would likely say something he may not mean to not hurt her feelings. The alternative, an outright rejection, was something she could not really face.

And he most definitely would not be able to keep this from Ron; he had the curse of outstanding moral fibre.

Then, she thought of a solution and slowly got up to put it in motion. She took out a quill and, on a yellow piece of parchment, began scribbling. She paused for a moment, and thought. She had to make this convincing.

Hermione turned towards Harry as she magically sealed the letter. How could being with him at that moment feel right and wrong at the same time? If they were meant to be, she hoped they would find each other again.

Harry awoke as the sun shone brightly on his face. He just experienced the most wonderful night in his life with the most amazing woman he had the privilege of knowing. He had no idea that the occasion could be so uplifting when shared with someone you love. He was smiling without even realizing that he was and was almost in disbelief that he did that with Hermione.

Harry decided that he would tell Ron; maybe not about spending the night with her like that but definitely how he felt about her. Ron would be livid but Harry had to.

He turned over when…

“Crash!”

Harry found himself on the floor. He was in Hermione’s living room; he fell from the couch and from where he landed he could see the embers still smouldering in the fireplace across from him. He was fully clothed and Hermione was nowhere to be seen.

His euphoria quickly turned into alarm. He knew for sure it happened. He could still taste and smell her on his lips. But it couldn’t be good if he didn’t remember getting up from her bed and getting dressed. He slowly walked over to her kitchen counter. On it there was a sealed note addressed to him pinned underneath a glass half filled with a bubbly lilac potion.

Harry recognized it; it was an amnesiac. He knew because he helped Hermione concoct a batch during their last year at Hogwarts to get Ron to forget his most horrible performance as Keeper of the Gryffindor team. Easy enough to make, or get one from the local potion remedy store. The note was clear.

Harry,

We both know that Ron must not find out. People will just get hurt and there is so much to lose. Some memories are better off forgotten. Bottoms up.

Hermione

As he set the note down, it suddenly turned into yellow smoke and evaporated into the air. It was one of those secrecy notes that unspeakables used to communicate.

Harry thought for a second and remembered what she said, ‘…we can always forget about this one night’. On the sink, he saw Hermione’s unwashed empty glass with a bit of the same potion she wanted him to drink.

A wave of disappointment quickly washed over him. That’s all she wants, Harry, not even a memory, he thought to himself. It must have been the firewhiskey that made her do it, and like countless other individuals before, she now regretted that one night she did not have control. Her actions confirmed that she cared for Ron more than him.

Without another thought, he emptied his glass down the sink. He put his empty glass next to Hermione’s and left.

Disclaimer : Harry is JKR’s.

Chapter 4. A Most Painful Experience

The week flew by so quickly. Ron was still away on assignment and Harry was swept into rookie doghouse, being dispatched to the most frivolous of all calls. There was a definite increase in crank calls since the Daily Prophet featured him after Auror graduation. Witches and wizards alike wanted to see him in action, even if they had to make something up. He was too pre-occupied with other thoughts to really care.

It was a good thing that he didn’t see Ron or knew where he was. He felt rotten and his conscience was constantly commanding him to come completely clean. Harry thought the longer time he had, the better his resolve would be against telling Ron everything that happened.

He wasn’t really concerned with what Ron would do to him, because he deserved every bit of it, but more for Hermione’s sake. She did not want Ron to know for the obvious reasons. She drank the potion and she would not have any recollection of that night. If they broke up because of something Harry claimed she did with him but she couldn’t recall, Harry didn’t want to think what would happen beyond her being very furious.

Because of Hermione’s request, Harry was on the fence about whether or not he would at least tell Ron how he felt about her. He wanted to tell Ron because that was the right thing to do but was afraid about being pressed for details and not being able to lie convincingly.

What gave Harry hope was the knowledge that Hermione had some feelings for him too and that things didn’t seem to be working out between her and Ron. True, he was disappointed that she didn’t want to remember their night but he loved her and would wait for that chance to be with her again. That chance would certainly come, it had to.

Intoxicated, he could no longer stop himself from wanting to be with her. He seemed to notice her more frequently around the Ministry that week. Harry saw her on a packed elevator once. She said 'hi' and he smiled and waved back. It was then that he finally had the courage to invite her to have a working lunch with him. He was ecstatic when she accepted.

“How’s rookie life so far?” she asked.

They were in the Auror office on the 2nd Level, eating at Harry’s desk. Hermione was multi-tasking; carrying on a conversation, reading some documents, and eating a burger at the same time.

“Officially, it’s a wonderful learning experience. Truthfully, I could use a Time Turner to the future to get it over with. I spent two hours this morning checking the wands used in the Ghoul Murders that happened, I don’t know, how long ago for potential missed evidence.”

“Why?”

“It was either that or twiddle my thumbs.”

She chuckled, as she scribbled down a few ideas on her pad.

“It’s your fault really.”

“How do you figure that?”

“If you had not put an end to Voldemort you’ll be busier with real cases.”

“Or dead.”

“Well, you almost did die.”

“That would have been a kinder fate,” he concluded under his breath.

Without looking up from what she was reading during their entire conversation, Hermione said, “You’ve been staring at me for quite sometime. Is there anything wrong with how I’m eating this burger?”

“Not that I notice. I was just admiring your impeccable concentration in getting work done.”

“Admire away then…” she smiled and playfully threw a piece of grape at him.

His heart almost melted seeing her like that.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“What is it?”

“That night when I was at your apartment…”

“Yes? What about it?”

“How drunk were you?”

Hermione looked up, gave him her full attention and said matter-of—factly, “I wasn’t drunk. I was just tipsy.”

“Do you remember what you did that night?”

She shrugged, “Not really.”

“So that’s how smashed you were.”

“We could argue all day but what’s your point?”

“That night, I realized how much I missed hanging out with you. We haven’t really done that since Hogwarts.”

She frowned before answering, “Things change, Harry. We get busy with other things that we don’t do together; partly because we’re not in Hogwarts anymore.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just unfortunate because it doesn’t have to be that way,” he commented with regret in his voice.

“What are you trying to say, Harry?”

“Well, maybe we should make an effort to spend time with our family and friends.”

“Maybe, we should.”

She couldn’t really disagree and turned her attention back to her work.

The conversation was left at that and the rest of that week they did spend as much time with each other as their other commitments allowed. They spent most of their lunch hours together and during times when they brought work outside of work, they met mostly at the Screeching Moon, or some public place, worked separately but occasionally asked each others’ help.

One time, she arrived very late at the Screeching Moon, fuming mad as she sat at his table. She wasn’t talking to him but was writing on a parchment quite furiously, he had to ask.

“Who’s the Howler for?”

“My boss,” she said, her lips were dangerously thin.

“Don’t you think sending a Howler to your boss can get you fired?”

“I don’t really care if he does; in fact, if he doesn’t do anything about Lowes, he might as well fire me!”

Alfred Lowes was her senior supervisor. Hermione said he was an empty headed stupid git who took credit for work he did not do. Harry was guessing, he took another of Hermione’s ideas and said it was his.

“You’re asking for another supervisor?”

“No, I’m asking to work independently and report directly to him, or I quit.”

With that she finished her Howler, sealed it and asked Tom the bartender to have it delivered to James Dorner, the Head of the Department of Mysteries, by their customer service owl right away. She came back to their table with a glass of firewhiskey and she was much calmer.

“What if Dorner says no?” he asked.

“Well, I guess I’ll be out of work,” she said in an indifferent voice.

She could be so impulsive sometimes. Harry was more concerned for her than she was for herself but she never ceased to amaze him. She probably could get away with it too.

“I can get married and have time for a dozen kids.”

Harry thought Ron would like that. Worried, he asked her, “Seriously?”

She was smiling, amused by his concerned look.

“Not to worry, Harry. Dorner will not say no. He may be an asshole but he’s not dim-witted.”

She was biting into his cold half eaten sandwich and chasing it down with her drink. Hermoine seemed so confident and Harry hoped she was right. True enough, the following day, she got her wish; independence, with her own private office and lab on Level 9; the youngest Unspeakable ever to be granted such a promotion.

Harry felt rekindling their friendship was important to make things right. He was careful not to be too close to her, or allow them to be completely alone. At the moment, he did not have great confidence in his self-control.

Attraction aside, he cherished her close friendship now more than ever. He was constantly comparing how she was now versus how she was during Hogwarts and overall, found a less neurotic, more relaxed Hermione. On occasion he would find something new about her. For instance, until seeing much more of her this past week, he did not realize how much Hermione liked firewhiskey.

Harry was having tea with Ginny the following week. Dean had to be at a meeting about his art exhibit and she dropped by the Auror office, would not take no for an answer. They actually became close friends after they broke up. Harry thought it was probably out of pity for him.

“So tell me, Harry, who is she?”

“What?” Harry thought she was still talking about getting Mr. Weasley a new set of multi-attachment screwdrivers.

“You’ve been very distracted today. Do I know her because I want to know if she is worthy of all this attention.”

“Work,” he lied.

“You can’t lie even if your life depended on it,” she knew him only too well.

“Ginny, after you, no other woman will ever be worthy of my attention.”

“Save the bullshit, Harry. Your godchildren may be unborn but they are listening.”

He thought, wouldn’t saying the word ‘bullshit’ be more offensive? No, it wasn’t worth ticking her off.

“Well, whoever she is I hope she’s not anything like the skanks you’ve been dating lately.”

That was definitely another inappropriate word.

“I don’t recall ever dating loose women.”

“That’s debatable. But then again I wouldn’t want to recall really bad dates either so I can’t say I blame you for wanting to forget!”

Harry laughed with her. He said, “I’ll let you know if I actually decide to tell her how I feel.”

She sighed in exasperation. “You’re such a coward, Harry. I think you will be hard-pressed to find any witch who would not want to have a serious relationship with a hero.”

“I’d hate to point this out to you but I’m looking at one.”

“What can I say, I was young and stupid,” Harry must have imagined that Ginny blushed a bit. “So, did Ron tell you? Tonight’s the night, again.”

“Really?” Harry felt like his chest was being drilled into, “I didn’t know he was back. Haven’t seen or spoken to him in ages.”

He had hoped to speak with him before Ron saw Hermione but there would be no time to do that.

“Yeah, just last night. And it seems that Hermione might let him, finally.”

He looked down; was a stake being nailed into his heart?

“I spoke with her yesterday and it does seem like she’s gotten a load off. She’s more relaxed and seems happier. Did you talk about Ron at all when you spent the night over?”

“Umm yes, though not in so many words,” he chose to tell a bit of the truth but almost choked on his biscuit.

“Well whatever you guys talked about that night it certainly had made her decide what to do. Good one, Harry.”

Yeah, that’s a good one. He smiled half-heartedly. Ginny began to talk about the pain and hardship her unborn children were causing everyday. Harry could only half listen.

That night, a mousy haired thin man sat on a park bench peering above a Muggle newspaper watching a young couple having dinner inside the restaurant across the street. He could not hear them but could see plenty, more than he wanted to. About half past ten he saw the red haired man take his date’s hand and he could almost hear a version of the proposal the man had practiced so many times. He helped pick out the diamond ring that the man was trying to find in his pocket. They embraced. He saw her kiss the man sweetly on his mouth, and he could tell the man kissed her back.

Harry had seen enough. Everything became dark and unfocussed, not even caring that someone could have seen him transform from the mousy haired man to himself. He felt his eyes burn and his chest throb. He could not see where he was going as tears flowed freely from his eyes. He did not even remember Apparating to Number 12 Grimmauld Place,

After that night with her, Harry was sure this would not happen and that was his flaw. He was not prepared to hurt this much to see Hermione chose to spend the rest of her life with someone else, even if he was his best friend.

Hermione was right as usual. Some memories are better off forgotten. It was wise of her to drink that potion but then, she knew what would happen. She probably had decided to marry Ron that night. He should have seen it when she drank the potion; that he never had a chance. She had made a choice.

Tomorrow, he would have to face Ron, Hermione and their family and friends, knowing he had slept with his best friend’s future wife and that he would always love her but they would never be rightfully together.

Ron and Hermione deserved to be happy and he was sure that at the moment, he could not pretend to be happy for them. Godric Gryffindor would be rolling in his grave just about now. He betrayed Ron’s trust once. He could not promise that he would not attempt to betray it again in an instant, so he could be with her, more so because he knew Hermione was capable of betraying Ron too. That would ruin Ron. That would ruin Hermione.

Wasn’t this the finality he had been waiting for so he could move on?

Then he decided. He could not stay, not around them, not for a while. He had to go away and leave the only family he had ever known hoping that in the future, if they found out the truth, they would understand and forgive him. Maybe a few months, just to get away, until he could trust himself not to cross that line again.

He made provisions to ensure Dobby would be fine and left him in charge to keep the Black house maintained. He packed his wand, his broom and a few personal effects. From the bottom of his bedroom drawer, he took out a note from Oliver Wood, his former Gryffindor Quidditch team captain, inviting him to join the professional club Wood was coaching. Harry decided that should be far enough and Wood would make sure he did not have any time for himself to wallow in his depression.

He scribbled notes to the Weasleys and to Remus. He had a perfect reason for wanting to leave, the papers certainly wrote about it when news was on the slow side.

Harry Potter wants normal life away from spotlight.

Harry Potter wishes he were someone else.

Harry Potter cannot live up to expectations.

Or something to that effect.

To Ron, he wrote what he did not get a chance to tell him.

Ron,

I’m sorry mate. I tried but failed miserably to stop myself from falling for her and I’ve fallen hard. I love Hermione as you do. I have for quite some time, and I can’t stay and not make a mess of things. I hope you understand. I need some time away to lick my wounds, let them heal and accept that you won her heart. Take care of her for the both of us, will you?

I only ask that you not tell her how I feel about her. She doesn’t need to know.

See you around.

Harry

To Hermione, he chose his words more carefully.

Hermione,

Take care. I’m sorry I could not stay. I will definitely miss you. You were probably right, some memories are better off forgotten. But thank you for all the memories that will keep me company for a lifetime. I hope you do not think too badly of me when we see each other again.

I wish you and Ron all the best.

Love, Harry

He used a late owl service to send them. Then Harry Potter disappeared into the night.

Disclaimer : Harry is JKR’s

Chapter 5 — An Answer from the Burrow

Present Day, American Quidditch World Series, near Ann Arbor, Michigan.

“Nice clear day to win the World Series,” said Oliver Wood in his pre-match speech to the New York Skwerts Quidditch Team.

“Winner take all! Gie," he said to the Keeper, “Eye on the Quaffle.”

“Quincy and Felisa, keep the Bludgers away from him.”

“Troy, Sweeney and Moldov, remember the attack plans we practiced.”

“And Harry, find the Snitch early. Any questions?”

“Yeah,” said Gie, who was a rookie on the team. “I’ve been meaning to ask you Coach, but why do you call Phil ‘Harry’?”

“Because he plays better if I call him that and I’m very superstitious,” he said, winking at Harry. Wood recruited him and Harry agreed to play as long as he could play as someone else. He also made Wood swear he would never blow his cover.

And the game started. Twenty minutes into the fast paced game, their nemesis, the Los Angeles Nifflers were outplaying them 70-10, mostly because they were more experienced and were playing a bit dirtier than they were. Such a difference between amateur and professional sports, Harry thought, as he dived and crossed over to avoid a Bludger.

Then, out of the corner of his eye he saw something white fluttering towards him. Hedwig! The reply he had been waiting for. It must have been very urgent because Hedwig would never interrupt him at work like that unless…he stopped himself from thinking the worse. Wood was going to kill him if Hedwig caught up to him before he caught the Snitch, “Where are you?”

Then he saw it, just across the field from him. He accelerated towards it the same time the opponent’s Seeker did. It was a race; the Snitch, two Seekers and a white owl on their tail. A Beater from the opposing team hit a Bludger right at him. Harry saw it just in time to hang from under his broom just with his legs as his fingers caught the Snitch. The crowd oohed and ahhhed. It missed him by not much and instead caught the other Seeker’s broom, causing him to crash into the stands. Game over. The crowd erupted in applause and mayhem followed.

He touched down the edge of the pitch and his team joined him. He managed to extricate himself and found Hedwig patiently waiting for him to take the note off her leg. He quickly read it. Harry whispered something in Wood’s ear and he nodded. Harry left the stadium in no time, clutching the note in his hand.

The note was in Ginny’s hurried handwriting.

Harry,

Ron’s at St Mungo’s, and Hermione, well it’s really bad. Best if you could come. Right away.

Ginny

There were a few ways to travel across the ocean; broom, Portkey, Floo Network or Apparition. A broom would take too long. A Portkey was usually by special issue to groups or families with young children .The International Floo Network was a bit unreliable because of the different ways people said destinations (one could be misunderstood depending on which Floo Network you were using). Apparition was the fastest.

It was safest to use International Apparition Centres in key cities across the world. Splinching was more likely to happen if attempts were made to Apparate outside its confines and because body parts would be in different jurisdictions, it could take forever to sort out which Ministry was responsible for the rescue.

However, he needed official travel documents to travel that way, preferably not as Phil Horton and definitely not as Harry Potter. He could not handle the questions. Not yet. He pulled out some documents from his safe and perused them, ‘Norbert Stangemore, it will have to be you.” With that he transformed himself to Norbert’s likeness and Apparated to the nearest travel centre in downtown New York.

Standing in line, documents and travel fees in hand, he waited for about half an hour for a cubicle to be available so he could Apparate to the London Centre. He cleared customs and in no time at all, Harry was standing in front of a portrait of St. Mungo Bonham, founder of St. Mungo’s Hospital For Magical Maladies and Injuries. Transforming back to himself, the Welcome Witch at information recognized him immediately and he learned that Ron was in the Spell Damage Ward on the 4th Floor.

Not good, he thought as he took the lift to where Ron was.

At the very end of the ward in a private room with curtains drawn across halfway he could see his red haired friend lying still on his bed. There was a Healer looking over him, wand in hand, murmuring an inaudible spell and deep in concentration. She did not notice when Harry came in and approached Ron on the other side.

Ron looked like he was asleep. On instinct he put his hand on Ron’s shoulder, shook him to wake him up as he had done thousands of times before, but there was no response. The Healer looked up and recognized Harry.

“Mr. Potter. My name is Healer Frances. I lead Mr. Weasley’s wellness team.”

Healer Frances was a short, plump, middle-aged witch with stern features. She looked like she was in-charge and not one to get on the wrong side of.

Harry shook her hand, “Please, call me Harry. How is he?”

“Well, we don’t really know,” she said honestly. “He’s been this way since they brought him five days ago. No scar, not even a blemish. We’ve checked for poisons, for any indication of a curse, but we have come up with nothing. We are afraid that usually means it’s the work of the Dark Arts.”

Harry looked at Ron; he could not come up with anything to say.

“I trust that you are here to assist in finding the cause of his condition.”

“Can you tell me more about how it happened?”

Healer Frances took his arm and brought him away from Ron’s bedside. “It is a matter for the Ministry to discuss with you. They are very anxious to meet with you to perhaps shed some light on the situation.”

Harry was puzzled why they would think that.

“I wasn’t even in the country when it happened,” he countered.

She seemed not to hear him.

“We want to help Mr. Weasley get better, but unless we know what happened, we cannot do much about it for fear we might make his condition worse. He needs you, Harry, and if what I hear about you is true then he will not be disappointed.”

“Harry!”

A familiar voice called out and as he turned he recognized the pretty red head rushing towards him and hugging him tightly.

“Thanks for coming. Harry, it’s been a nightmare for everyone,” Ginny said.

He could only imagine.

“When Hedwig came through in here it felt like a huge weight came off everyone. They all can’t wait to see you. Mom and Dad are coming. Charlie and Bill were here the day after it happened but had to go back home. Remus and Tonks should be around later. Fred and George will be here after closing time.”

When the one name he was waiting for did not come, he asked, “And Hermione?”

“Oh Harry! You don’t know yet do you?” her brown eyes were full of concern and apologetic.

“Know what?” Harry replied, almost afraid to ask.

“They’re saying she did this, to Ron and murdered her boss and possibly a co-worker! She’s locked up in a secure area here at St. Mungo’s and they will move her to Azkaban when she’s well enough!”

Disclaimer : Harry Potter and his world – JKR’s

A/N. Harry just found out that Ron is in serious condition at St. Mungo’s and Hermione is being held by the Ministry for murder.

XXXXXXXXXX

Chapter 6. The Ministry’s Theory

“That’s totally ridiculous! Hermione would never do that!”

He was screaming at no one in particular, a look of disbelief on his face. How could anyone come to that conclusion?

“I know, Harry. We don’t believe it either but the evidence is overwhelming,” Ginny tried to clarify. “Her wand revealed everything and she’s not exactly doing much to clear her name.”

“What do you mean? What is she saying about what happened?”

“That’s just it. Nothing. She’s not cooperating with the investigation. She’s not even denying that she did it.”

Harry was really confused. “Has anyone tried to reason with her?”

“We’ve all tried. But she doesn’t want to talk to any of us. I tried and she wouldn’t even look at me. It also makes matters worse that no one has actually seen her for the last four months outside of work. Aside from Ron, that is. The last few months one would think they were back together. They were spending so much time together.”

Harry hesitated, “Ron and Hermione aren’t married?”

Ginny shook her head.

“Hermione broke up with him around the time you left, you know, during one of those times he was going to propose. He did not really have a chance to be sore about it because everyone was kind of busy mourning your leaving. He eventually agreed with her that it was all for the best. They are much better off just friends, really.”

Harry’s heart sank. He remembered that night as if it was yesterday. How could he have assumed she had said yes? Would it have changed anything had he not come to spy on them that night and waited for news the following day? Would he have pursued a relationship with her had he known she had broken up with Ron? Would he have left? Maybe, Ron wouldn’t be in St Mungo’s, Hermione wouldn’t be in trouble and he would be happier. Maybe.

“Wotcher, Harry,” Tonks came into the room followed by Remus. He gave both of them a hug and asked what they knew.

“She made things worse by resisting arrest, Harry,” Tonks added. “It took seven Aurors to subdue her and she actually put three of them into beds here that night. I’m just glad I didn’t have to be there.”

“How is she?” he asked, imagining a most horrible fate having to fight seven witches and wizards.

“She broke an arm and cut a leg trying to evade a curse. There is the bruising from the three Stunners she got on her chest. All in all, she was lucky to have come out of it with just that. Of course, she’ll soon be moved to Azkaban. We all know that can be worse.”

The Dementors were back guarding the wizard prison.

“We’ve got to help her! She didn’t do this!”

“I don’t see how we can if she doesn’t want any help,” Remus said quietly.

“I’d like to see her,” he said finally.

Remus nodded, “We thought you would. The Minister has given his permission.”

“But he would like to talk to you first to brief you on what the Ministry knows. Everyone feels you’re key to getting to the bottom of this,” said Tonks.

“She’s innocent, Tonks, and if there is one person who has ideas on how to get Ron back it would be her.”

Remus took him aside and said solemnly, “Harry, just to warn you, she’s not the Hermione you know.”

“What do you mean?” Harry wanted to understand.

Remus replied, “It’s best if you see for yourself.”

Remus was looking at him reflectively, “Harry, I’m sure you had your reasons and it’s not the time to talk about why you left. I just want you to know, and I speak for Dora and a lot of the Weasleys, it’s good to have you back.”

Harry nodded and he gave Remus Lupin another hug. This was his family and he knew then he would never leave them again.

A few minutes later, Tonks escorted Harry to the bowels of the hospital. The lifts did not go there and they had to descend five more flights of stairs to reach a dark corridor. Obviously, no visitors were allowed in this section. She took him to a well-lit room. The walls were glass and at the moment, all the blinds were drawn down. At the centre of the room was a rectangular desk surrounded by eight chairs. A Pensieve was at the end of the table. A man, looking very much like a lion, greeted him with a handshake.

“Harry, I wish we were meeting under better circumstances,” Rufus Scrimgeour retained his position at the Ministry and had gained more popularity as a leader following the defeat of Voldemort.

“We have to stop meeting like this, Minister,” Harry replied as he shook the Minister’s hand, “I see that you, again, have the wrong person behind bars.”

The Minister showed no signs of being fazed by Harry’s comment.

“I don’t think we would expect any less loyalty from one of Gryffindor’s finest alumni. However, I would hope that you would at least keep an open mind, particularly to what the evidence is showing us.”

He motioned Harry to a seat beside the Pensieve and directed his attention to a short, youthful looking, waif-like wizard wearing what appeared to be the finest robes Galleons could buy.

“Harry, this is Miguel Gomez. He is the interim Head of the Department of Mysteries. He will brief you on what we have found out so far. What you will see is classified and I would hope it will not leave this room.”

Harry nodded. He was anxious to find out how they came to the conclusion that Hermione did it.

“Mr. Potter, as you know Miss Granger is, was an Unspeakable. Eighteen months ago, the then Head, James Dorner, created a small division of elite witches and wizards to delve into the more controversial mysteries that we previously thought too dark to consider for appropriate study. He chose three and we believe Miss Granger was one of them.”

“The very nature of the work they were going to embark on made it imperative that they were unknown, even to each other. They had cover assignments and they had to blend in with the rest. In fact, the existence of this division is so classified the Minister cannot confirm on any record that it actually exists. Mr. Dorner was the only person who knew who the members were and what they were working on at any given time.”

“Why Hermione?” he asked.

“For the obvious reasons; her brilliant mind and seemingly lack of personal connection. She was putting in almost twenty hours a day at the Ministry and having fought Voldemort with you was a definite asset on her part.”

“We think that in the course of her research, she stumbled onto something very powerful, but so dark that the Mr. Dorner pulled the plug on it. Against direct orders, she continued working on it and was consumed by its completion. She worked longer hours and her relationship with Mr. Weasley suffered as a result of her obsession.”

“Five months ago, she asked Mr. Weasley to be assigned to protect her from what she referred to as potential threats to her work. We believe this was an attempt on her part to mend their flailing relationship.”

“But things still did not work out. Mr Weasley began seeing another witch. She snapped when the Mr. Dorner confronted her about discontinuing her research on a Project Lumos and used the dark magic that she had been working on against him. Her wand was used to kill Mr. Dorner and its last spell was an attack on Mr. Weasley.”

“But anyone could have used her wand to implicate her.”

“True, but the evidence does not support that. Her wand was fingerprinted and examined for DNA, with help from our Muggle counterparts. All we could find was hers.”

“And why do you think she would hurt Ron?” Harry asked.

“Revenge for a betrayal. She was about to lose the only relationship she still had and was out of control. She invited him to her place of residence later that night to curse him. He was likely already incapacitated when she started fighting off the first group of Aurors who responded to the call to apprehend her. At some point she realized and started feeling remorse for what she had done because she stopped casting curses and hexes. That was when the others finally subdued her.”

“Is that it?” Harry asked after he noticed the Minister, Gomez and Tonks were looking at him.

“Well, yes,” Gomez replied.

“It’s the most unbelievable story I have ever heard.”

“Why is that, Mr Potter?”

“Hermione would never intentionally hurt anyone or anything, unless she or someone she cared for was in imminent mortal danger. All her adult life, she has been fighting against the Dark Arts. I fought beside her against Voldemort and if she was going to turn that was the time to do it. And even if Ron was seeing someone else, she would not go to that extreme.”

“Mr. Potter, you have been away for a couple of years,” Mr. Scrimgeour interjected. “People change, and sadly, your friend had turned for the worse.”

With that, the Minister flicked his wand and a blue screen appeared beside the Pensieve. On it was a frozen image and with another flick the image started to move. What he saw unnerved him. It was a replay of Hermione’s interrogation in the very room they were in.

He almost did not recognize her; her bushy brown hair tied back haphazardly in a knot, her left lower lip was swollen and there was a fresh bruise on right cheek. She had lost a lot of weight since he last saw her and there was a rawness about her he had not noticed before. Her left leg was heavily bandaged and her right arm was in a cast. She was suspended mid air in some sort of a binding curse. She seemed to be only able to move her head, her face and her eyes, though she seemed to be looking straight at the person who’s memory this was being replayed. Her brown eyes were detached and devoid of any emotion save for utmost rage.

Tonks came into the picture.

“Hermione, we can help, we want to help. Just tell us what happened tonight.”

Hermione looked at her and did not answer. She reverted her gaze front and centre.

“What happened to Ron, Hermione? He’s in bad shape and we can only help him if we know what hit him.”

Harry saw that Tonks was trying to appeal to her. Surely she would try to save Ron, or help at least.

A cold uncaring voice came out of Hermione’s moving lips, Harry had trouble accepting that it was Hermione’s, “There are so many Aurors and so few dark wizards, maybe the Ministry can use some of them to actually solve cases and not rely on know-it-alls to answer everything for them.”

A man’s angry voice came from behind the recorder, “You put three Aurors in the hospital tonight!”

Hermione smiled, taunting, “It seems that we are not training them as well as we should. Somebody should look into that, Minister.”

She laughed and grimaced as she felt a pain from laughing. She probably had a broken rib.

“Did you kill Mr. Dorner?”

“I don’t want to speak ill of the dead but Mr. Dorner was an egotistical pigheaded asshole who deserved what he got.”

“What about Mr. Lowes death?

“You mean the lowlife is dead, too? One less scum on earth.”

“Did you curse your friend Mr Weasley in a fit of jealous rage?”

She laughed and again winced in pain.

“What is Project Lumos?”

She smiled, “We were trying to find out which filament is better to use for incandescent light.”

There was a whisper from the crowd behind, “Someone should check on that.”

“Why did Mr. Dorner want you to stop working on it?”

“We were not having much success and were breaking a lot of light bulbs.”

“Were you asked by Mr. Dorner to work on unofficial projects?”

“All my projects came from Mr. Dorner; he’s a Ministry official; if you passed Logic 101 you should be able to figure that one out.”

“Your wand shows it was involved in the curses that were done tonight. It appears that prior to tonight, it hasn’t been used for at least a month, possibly longer.”

“It was on holidays. The Alps, skiing.”

“It would be in your best interest to cooperate, Miss Granger.”

“Let me see; witch works too hard, loses boyfriend, loses mind, kills slave driver boss and annoying co-worker, then invites ex-boyfriend over to get final revenge. And by the way, she does not even attempt to cover this up. She uses her own wand, makes no real attempt to flee and maybe has a death wish trying to battle Aurors all by herself. It sounds like you don’t need any help from me to decide my guilt. After all, if I did indeed do all that I am a crazed lunatic, why should I cooperate?”

“We need a Legilimiens,” one of the interrogators said. An assistant scribbled a quick note. He put it through what looked like a faucet and it disappeared in an instant.

“Miss Granger, who is Richard Tilly?

No answer.

“He’s an Inspector at Scotland Yard.”

No answer.

“He says he’s your boyfriend.”

She chuckled and retorted, “That’s what he would say.”

“Why should we believe him?”

“You shouldn’t or else you’d have to re-think your theory.”

“For a Muggle, he knows a lot about our world. Is he connected with Project Lumos?”

“I’m sure you asked him.”

“When he tried to talk about it he started stammering. Then he said that you and Mr. Weasley were working on it with him, but had asked him to sign a contract that he could not discuss anything magic-related to the Muggles and Lumos related to us. He said it was so we did not have to Obliviate him.”

“I’m sure you tried anyway. You can’t say you weren’t warned. I prefer my few friends to remember who I am.”

There was murmuring in the crowd.

The interrogator broke the mumblings, “Mr. Greasely, the head of our Obliviator Squad, is on the 4th floor. Can you tell us how to set him right?”

“And I like Mr. Greasely. He’ll stop quacking in two weeks.”

Minutes later, a familiar pale-faced tall blonde man walked in.

“Granger, what a predicament you’ve got yourself into,” Draco Malfoy drawled.

Hermione gave him a look of deep loathing and turned to the interviewer, “Are you sure you want him to look into my mind? Oh, I’m going to enjoy this.”

Malfoy projected a blank image from his mind onto the blue screen so everyone could see what images he could retrieve from Hermione. He looked at Hermione who stared back at him.

The first image that appeared was Malfoy whimpering after being hit by Buckbeak. The second was an image of Malfoy covered with jinxes on the Hogwarts Express. Then there was an image of a bouncing white ferret. A third image of Malfoy was being humiliated by a Seeker during a game of Quidditch. Harry noticed that the face of the other Seeker who beat Malfoy to the Snitch was not well defined, and sadly, Harry knew it was him.

Finally, a Dark Mark on an arm, causing gasping from the room then an image of the back of a hand with just the middle finger unflexed.

“We could go on forever, Malfoy,” she challenged. “Should we let everyone see what really happened on the tower that night with Professor Dumbledore?”

Harry noticed Hermione was tiring and recognized the empty threat she shot at Malfoy so he would stop. She was showing Malfoy her memories and thoughts, and not really Malfoy’s.

Malfoy averted his gaze and muttered, “Sorry, I can’t break her.”

The Minister gave him a pat on the back and Malfoy left the room.

“What now?” he asked the room.

“Miss Granger, is there someone, anyone, you would allow a conversation with.”

“Professor Dumbledore comes to mind.”

“Dumbledore’s been dead for years.”

Murmurs from the investigators, “She’s a lunatic.”

“You did ask.”

“How about Harry, Harry Potter?”

It was Tonks’ voice. Hermione looked at her, amused.

“Well Tonks, sure, why not. I will talk to Harry Potter. Of course, best of luck in finding him.”

With another wave of a wand, the image was gone.

Disclaimer : I don't own Harry Potter. Thanks to JK Rowling for creating such a wonderful world full of interesting characters who inspire imagination and creativity.

A/N : Here’s Harry and Hermione…hope not too many get confused.

XXXXXXXXXX

Chapter 7. An Unwelcome Reunion

The Minister, Gomez, and Tonks were all looking at Harry.

“Well Mr. Potter, she says she will talk with you. Will you allow us to listen in?”

He nodded. It was polite of them to ask but he knew he did not really have a choice.

The blinds to Harry’s back opened and he saw her in the room through the large glass window, suspended in mid-air, now without cast or bandages and the bruising on her face was starting to heal. The all too familiar stabbing pain in his chest occurred. No, not like this.

“Let her down,” he demanded.

“She’s dangerous. We cannot allow her without the binding curse,” Gomez replied quickly.

“She does not have a wand in there, does she? And I will leave mine in my cloak. If she starts attacking me with her bare hands I think you will all have time save me. And if you don’t save me, then you can just send her straight to Azkaban for my murder.”

The Minister nodded and Hermione was slowly set down in the middle of the room. The room was bare except for a small table and a couple of chairs right beside the glass window.

“Miss Granger, you have a visitor.”

“Must be someone unimportant or just plain stupid.”

She was looking towards the one-way mirror, aware that the person speaking was in the room behind it. She walked towards one of the chairs and sat down.

A door materialized from thin air and Harry turned the knob. As he got in, the door closed and disappeared.

“Hermione,” he said, almost in a whisper. She turned and for a moment he saw a spark in her eyes. He sat in the chair across the table from her.

“Harry,” she replied, folded her arms across her chest, then said, sarcastically, “Come back to save the world?”

“We both know I’m done doing that.” Harry said. That used to be an old joke between them. Somehow she had lost a bit of her sense of humour. So much for hoping she would be happy to see him.

“That’s what I thought. They actually found you.”

“Not exactly,” he hesitated. “I heard about Ron and came.”

She gave the people behind the one-way mirror a disparaging look. “How is Ron?”

“Same as he was when you got here. The healers need your help, so they can help him.”

She ignored his statement, “How have you been?”

“Okay, I guess. I see you’ve been busy.”

She laughed.

“What’s the weather like outside? I’m not allowed a view. Talk about prisoner’s rights.”

Harry shrugged, he didn’t really notice, “Cold and dreary,” that’s how he felt anyways, “Do you want to talk about why you’re here?”

“Not really.”

“Don’t be so stubborn, help us get you out.”

“Did you hear that I apparently want to kill Ron because he’s seeing someone else?”

“Yeah, ridiculous.”

“Do you remember how I sent a flock of canaries to attack him in a fit of jealous rage?”

“I don’t think it helps your case for them to know that.” What was she doing?

“What about the time I went out with someone just to make him jealous.”

“Hermione...”

“That was a great feeling getting even.”

Then he heard her voice, in his head.

Phoenix core, holly, took a while to find it…

“What…”Harry said out loud.

I’d really rather you didn’t give it away.

“...are you doing, trying to get a Dementor down here to give you a kiss?”

Actually, St Mungo’s is bewitched so Dementors can’t set foot in here. You can only imagine what damage they can do to sick people. Honestly, Harry, didn’t you read the hospital pamphlet? “I’m just being honest. How’s your Uncle Vernon?”

“Great, he died last year I think.” They will send you to Azkaban, what are you playing at? “I heard you’ve practically become a hermit.”

“Being an insufferable know-it –all does that to you.” I need my wand, Harry.

To escape? “You should cooperate with the Ministry and get to the bottom of this.”

No, to knit hats for the other prisoners in Azkaban! Why do you think! “Did they show you what I did to Malfoy? One of my finest works, ever.”

“He did not look good when he left.” And you expect me to agree and put you further in harms way?

How much harm do you think I’ll be in with the Dementors?

“You should really tell them everything.”

That’s good, Harry. They’ll think you are on their side.

I am on their side on this one!

“I can’t tell them everything.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m sick and tired of doing everyone’s work for them!” They are moving me tomorrow. I’ll be dead if I spend one day in Azkaban. It’s kind of a great place to kill someone if you want to get away with it.

“Can I help?”

“Can you break me out of here?”

“No. I can’t.” You are mental!

“Then I suggest you go back to where you came from and leave me alone!”

She was serious.

I can be out there or I can be dead. Right now, I prefer the former.

What really happened, Hermione? I know you did not do this.

Maybe I am responsible. You shouldn’t be too quick to assume that.

Tell me so I can help you.

You should have taken the potion, Harry.

How do you know that I didn’t?

We wouldn’t be having this conversation if you did. So why didn’t you?

I was very fond of that memory. I still am. But then, you wouldn’t know what I’m talking about because you did.

They stared at each other, long and hard.

My wand, by midnight tonight in the room you were just in. Then you can disappear, and this time, do us all a favour and make it permanent!

She turned to the glass window. It rattled after she banged a fist on it.

“I’m done talking to him!”

She refused to look at him anymore. A door reappeared on the wall and he walked out. As it closed he could hear Hermione gasp as she was put back in the binding curse and re-suspended.

“Sorry I couldn’t get her to talk about it,” Harry said.

“We appreciate you trying, “ the Minister replied. “I do hope Mr. Weasley gets better.”

Harry nodded as she and Tonks left the basement, deep in thought.

What puzzled him about it was why Hermione couldn’t and wouldn’t talk about it. How was she able to use a wand that was in another room? And how was he supposed to steal her wand from a heavily guarded evidence vault and get it into that highly secure area within 12 hours?

Tonks interrupted his thoughts, “As you can see it’s kind of hard to help her, considering she’s not helping herself.”

“Do you think she did it?”

“I don’t think she did it, Harry.”

They were now in the elevator and almost back in Ron’s room.

Tonks whispered, ”You really should be thinking about how to help her escape.”

Harry turned to Tonks, “I don’t know what you mean?”

“I can tell you the Ministry believes she will try to escape. They have security tripled tonight and she is being moved to Azkaban first thing tomorrow. The Weasleys, any former members of the Order, even your Hogwarts Gryffindor classmates are under surveillance. It was very smart of her to ask you openly in front of the Minister himself. That makes you less likely to do it.”

“Are you telling me to help her?” Harry wasn’t sure if Tonks was on the level.

“Hermione is innocent, Harry. And probably for good reason, she wants to get to the bottom of this herself. She will not be able to do that if she is in Azkaban. Frankly, once she’s sent there, this case is as good as closed because all the evidence points to her. I would help her if I wasn’t being watched myself.”

Harry’s mind started racing. He decided Tonks could be trusted. And he, unlike Hermione, was willing to admit he needed help to help her.

“Maybe you can help. Her wand, where exactly is it and how can I get it?”

XXXXXXXXXX

A/N: Thank you for the reviews! Keep sending them!

Return to Top

Disclaimer : I don't own Harry Potter but like most of you, I have fallen in love with it. All thanks to JK Rowling and the wonderful world she created.

Chapter 8. The Escape

Hermione’s vine wood with dragon-string core wand was in the Evidence Locker in the Auror Office on Level 2 of the Ministry of Magic. All sorts of charms and enchantments guarded the Evidence Locker, and the only way to get evidence from it was for the item to go through the release counter and have the Locker Guard sign it out, willingly.

“Slow day, again, Jonas?” a long nosed witched said over to the Locker Guard, as she passed.

“Slow as a watching Muggles boil a cauldron of water,” he remarked.

Jonas Defter was a heavy-set middle-aged wizard with a goatee, whose goal was to retire as soon as he possibly could. His shift was over in 10 minutes and his wife was a nasty witch who kept him on a strict clock, a result of a young wizard’s transgression. Every few seconds, he looked at the official Ministry time-teller on ceiling.

Since Voldemort’s defeat, Dark Wizardry seemed to have tanked as a career option. Not too many Dark Wizards around anymore and not too many to catch. The items he had in the locker were mostly from unresolved murders and crimes from long ago. As a result, there was no need for the Locker to be accessible 24 hours a day. His shift had been cut in half and his wife was nastier than usual these days.

He looked at the time-teller again and started packing up for the day. If he was lucky he could slip out five minutes early and maybe have time to place a bet on the Quidditch game tonight.

The bell at the counter rang. It rang again, and again.

“Hold your thestrals, I’m coming!”

Jonas yelled from behind the stack of logbooks on his desk. He wondered who could it be, they seemed in a hurry or very impatient.

“Oh, you...” Jonas recognized the rookie Auror, Flint, who had managed to annoy everyone in the department during his first 3 days at the Ministry. He was sorely lacking in team and people skills were and he seemed not to grasp that despite several admonitions from superiors, “What do you want?”

“Important case, I just got assigned to it. They’re relying on me to bust it wide open.” Flint handed him an official looking document.

“You want the fifty-six wands confiscated from the Ghoul Murders fifteen years ago?”

“Yes sir!” Flint said enthusiastically.

“Tonight, eight minutes before closing.”

“I was told to start cracking at it tonight. Harry Potter himself failed to do much with it. Don’t want to disappoint the Ministry, they’re counting on me…”

“I know, I know, to bust it wide open.”

Jonas sighed, putting his had up to signal a stop to this senseless chitchat. He was as good as dead tonight. He was definitely not going to be able to get home on time. He went to the back behind the dusty shelves and came out with a large box marked “Ghoul Murders”. He opened the evidence dispensary counter and started magically signing the wands out, one at a time.

Flint interrupted him, “Can you not just sign out the entire lot at once?”

Jonas looked up and gave him a scathing look, “I could, if I wanted to see you frozen and zapped by ten stunners at once. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen that happen in a long time.”

“No, no we should do it the proper way. The culprits must not get off on a technicality,” Jonas was thankful Flint finally was silent, until Flint started pacing to and fro.

About halfway through the lot, a slim, tall, unshaven man in his thirties appeared beside Flint. He was in Muggle clothes and appeared very lost.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for Jonas Defter,” he said, his thick prescription lenses distorting the appearance of his grey eyes.

“You found him. What can I do for you?” Jonas was talking to him while signing off more Ghoul wands.

The man flipped his wallet open and flashed a badge. “Skip Ghepp, Crime Lab Scotland Yard.”

“Good grief, Muggle Law Enforcement! Uh, I mean, what brings you to our warehouse?”

It was standard first line cover in case of Muggle discovery. He was ready to signal an alarm in case the Muggle started to become suspicious, that would quickly bring in an Obliviator Squad.

“Relax mate, I’m a Squib. Just here to dot the I’s and cross the T’s,” he showed him a piece of paper.

Jonas stopped what he was doing and perused the document before him amid protest from Flint.

“Hmmm, hmmm, the Granger Affair, you need the wand, it says, to do some measurements,” he looked at the man and awaited a response.

“My lab was asked to fingerprint and detect DNA from it, some Muggle screwed up and forgot to write down a description of the ‘piece of wood’.” Ghepp motioned quotes with his fingers as he said the last phrase.

Jonas looked at him, pondering how much more time this was going to take. He then shoved the piece of paper toward Ghepp.

“Can’t really help you, your paperwork is Muggle. I need an official Ministry form signed by an appropriate wizard.”

“Fine by me. Got to go home anyway. The wife gets upset when I’m late for dinner. Don’t really care about the Muggle Protection Activist Group poking around to get her off on a technicality though I heard the Minister himself was pretty upset and would prefer it to be corrected tonight. The Muggle is being transferred to Azkaban tomorrow and the last thing he needs is for the Muggle Protection Activist Group finding out about two missing measurements.”

“Hold on!” Jonas grabbed his coat. “Well, if it’s only two measurements, do you need to take it out?”

“No, I was actually hoping I could just borrow it for two seconds, measure it right in front of you, write them down and give them back.”

“Well, let’s do that then. Minister’s got enough problems as it is. Every little bit helps. Let me get it.”

Jonas left, thinking how appreciative the Minister was going to be. Perhaps, he could even get a raise, or a promotion! Ghepp took out a Muggle measuring tape and scribbled ‘length’ and ‘circumference’ on a note pad as Jonas signed Hermione’s wand out.

Just as Jonas handed this to Ghepp, a young wizard appeared out of nowhere with an armful of wands, stacked up so high he could not see where he was going. In an instant, he collided with Flint who tried to back off but in the process dropped all thirty-eight wands he was holding. A loud crash ensued and Jonas screamed quite a few swear words on his way outside the dispensary counter and started trying to sort out the mess of wands on the floor.

“What! What is this? More wands!” Jonas was glowering at the new arrival, who was beyond nervous that he looked like he was going to wet himself.

“I… I’m so sorry, Mr Defter, sir. I didn’t mean to, fell over, tripped…couldn’t see?”

“What are you doing here, Scott? What is all of this?”

“Mr. Shackelbolt, sir, he wants the wands safe in the locker tonight, can’t risk losing them, told me to rush because you were closing. So sorry, Mr, Defter, sir.”

Jonas looked at the assortment of wands strewn all over the floor, his entire body shaking with anger and a definite cry of frustration.

“I think all the wands are mixed up,” Flint stated the obvious, “How do we separate them?”

Jonas felt his nagging wife right behind him. He could not lose this job.

“I have ways of knowing, stand aside!” He conjured two boxes with the flick of a wand, closed his eyes, and started flicking his wand to and fro. The wands from the floor separated and neatly arranged themselves into the two boxes. “There. Now, Scott, step aside while I finish with Flint. Mr. Ghepp, how are we doing?”

Ghepp had just measured the length of the wand and scribbled something on his pad.

“All done. Thank you,” he said as he handed the wand back to Jonas, who promptly signed it in again. Ghepp walked away and overheard Flint saying, “Mr. Defter, I swear I had more than 30 wands in my hand…”

Two hours later, there was a commotion at St. Mungo’s. Rita Skeeter, the Daily Prophet’s star reporter had just waltzed in with her personal photographer. Head Unspeakable Gomez met her and he led her and her crew of one down to the detention area.

“So nice of you to agree to an interview, Mr. Gomez,” Rita Skeeter buzzed in his ear making Gomez blush slightly.

“Part of the job, Ms. Skeeter. We have to show everyone that justice will always prevail. Ms. Granger is somewhat of a celebrity having stood by Harry Potter countless times, we cannot allow her special treatment because of this.”

Gomez had his chest puffed out and was attempting to make himself taller beside Rita Skeeter, as their picture was taken, without much success. As he led them into one of the smaller rooms, he was stopped by Rita Skeeter.

“Wait, Mr. Gomez, I know the perfect back-drop for the interview,” then she paused, “No, but it is such a silly idea, we can’t possibly do that, no.”

“What is it?”

“Forget it, it seems foolish now.”

He interrupted, “No, try me.”

“It would look great, I think, yes, definitely! Granger, behind you as we’re doing the interview, and her behind you on the front page of the Prophet with the headline, ‘Head of Department Gomez, No Nonsense Unspeakable!’”

She motioned with her hand and out of thin air appeared the words in neon pink just as she said it. He looked at the words until they disappeared in a puff of smoke. Without hesitation, he agreed and led them to the interrogation room. He waved his wand and the blinds uncovered the window looking into the room where Hermione was.

The interview ensued, the photographer was snapping pictures frequently and often and Rita Skeeter’s infamous quick quill notes was scribbling furiously.

Head Unspeakable Gomez, height-challenged, undernourished, fashion-conscious, Minister of Magic lap dog, Unspeakable number two wizard no more…

Finally it was over.

“Thank you again, Mr. Gomez, we’ll see you tomorrow,” she paused for effect, “On the front page of the news!”

Gomez beamed and laughed with her as he closed the blinds and they walked out of the room.

“Wait!” the photographer interjected, just as the Gomez was about to magically seal the door to the interrogation room, “I left the film in there.”

Rita Skeeter rolled her eyes and whispered to Gomez as the boy went back in by himself to retrieve the films, “Not too bright but he’s so handsome I can’t let him go, “ she winked as he came back from the room with his bag.

On their way out of St. Mungo’s Rita Skeeter addressed her handsome young photographer in a low voice, “If the bitch pulls this off alive, make sure you tell her we’re definitely even.”

It was 9pm.

At 11pm, the holding cell in St Mungo’s was totally empty except for a few unconscious Aurors.

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter. Thanks to JK Rowling for creating him and his world.

Chapter 9. Ron’s Late Night Visitor

Mr. And Mrs. Weasley had just left St. Mungo’s; the latter had been tearful the entire night and kept on looking at Harry, as if not believing he was really there. They were very upset by the entire incident, to say the least. Their son was in a coma and Hermione, who was like a daughter to them, was going to be sent to Azkaban.

Ginny had left with Dean earlier; they had to pick up the twins. It was also good to see Fred and George, who both looked the same though definitely less rambunctious than usual.

Visitors weren’t usually allowed to stay past 9pm. Healer Frances had given Harry permission to stay late that night. He wanted to do this for two reasons. He wanted to spend some time with Ron, alone. He missed him and seeing him brought back a lot of memories. He was hoping that by some magical connection Ron could at least communicate with him. He felt so stupid having to leave now. How his feelings then paled in comparison to what he was facing now. He could very well lose his two best friends forever, without a chance to get together one last time just like the old times, and maybe ask their forgiveness.

The second reason he wanted to spend the night was because he wanted to talk with Hermione. If Hermione succeeded in escaping tonight, he was certain she would try to see Ron. Harry wanted to help her get out of the mess she was in. He wanted to, though he knew she did not want any help. Hermione was mad at him, but then from what he saw it seemed that she was mad at the entire world. Remus was right; she was not the Hermione he knew two years ago. It just didn’t make sense to him that if she was in so much trouble with the Ministry, why couldn’t she ask the Weasleys and the former members of the Order to help her sort things out.

Again, his ability to morph had served great purpose in getting Hermione’s wand to where she wanted it to be. Tonks had given Flint the Ghoul Murders assignment and suggested that tonight was a good night as any to get started on it. Tonks and Moody coached him on how to get Defter to agree to give him her wand. And it was easy enough to switch the real wand with a Hermione Granger replica he got from the local wizard toy store, when Scott crashed into Flint.

The part of getting it into a secure area was not as easy. Hermione had a long and bitter history with Rita Skeeter and the latter was totally all for sending Hermione to Azkaban, guilty or not. Hermione probably would have much preferred going to Azkaban had she known Harry would ask Rita Skeeter’s help. Finally, Harry talked Rita Skeeter into it by pointing out how she would be more famous doing another front-page story after Hermione’s escape.

He looked at the time. Eleven seventeen. It shouldn’t be too long now.

Harry walked over to the window at the northeast corner of Ron’s room and sat on one of the guest chairs. The rain was coming down hard and the rhythmic sound of raindrops splattering on the glass window occupied the room. He wondered as he gazed outside why he did not bother discussing a back-up plan with Tonks. Hopefully they would not need one.

Harry willed his eyes to forcibly open and shut several times. He was exhausted from sleep deprivation and from the travel. He commanded himself to hang on to his consciousness for a little longer. He had to talk with her.

Then, he felt her presence in the room. She was sitting on the chair at Ron’s bedside that Mrs. Weasley just vacated half an hour ago. In fact, oddly enough, she stroked Ron’s red hair and planted a kiss on his forehead exactly as Mrs. Weasley did. The sight reminded Harry of the time Ron almost died from poisoning while they were still at Hogwarts when she was with Ron at the hospital wing, constantly. He found it hard to believe that they did not marry because they looked very much like a couple.

Hermione finally saw him and cried as she met him halfway and they embraced. Oh how he missed her! How he missed her embrace! He did not know how he was able to survive two years without this.

Hermione said as she pulled away, “It’s wonderful to see you, Harry! Thanks for coming back.”

“I shouldn’t have left in the first place,” he replied.

“I didn’t do this, Harry,” Hermione tried to explain, “It wasn’t me.”

“I know,” he reassured her.

Hermione was concerned, “I don’t know how to fix this.”

He answered, “I’ll help you. But first, I need to talk to you about something else.”

He faced her, took both her hands in his and held them.

She had a puzzled look on her face, “Is this about why you really left?”

He nodded and after what seemed like an eternity, finally told her what he had wanted to let her know for years.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, Harry,” she was still confused.

They were best friends and virtually family. Of course, they loved each other. Harry shook his head.

“No, Hermione. I love you,” he reiterated, “I could not stay knowing you would marry Ron. I left because even if you married Ron I would have done this.”

Then Harry leaned into her still uncertain face slowly, waiting for her to step back or turn away. She didn’t. When their lips were just barely touching each other’s, she spoke slowly, almost breathlessly, “Harry, what are you doing?”

And he moved in, his lips reaching for hers a bit and lightly brushing against it. Her soft mouth was driving Harry mad, but he had to go slow; he pulled back a bit to look at her reaction. She had her eyes half closed still and Harry could feel her breathe with a bit more effort now.

“I…I don’t understa…”

He interrupted her with another kiss, longer and deeper than the earlier one, his mouth trying to convince hers to get involved, and he felt it did, only stopping when they both needed to air.

“Clear enough?” he asked.

She nodded and this time, she initiated the kiss. Harry pulled her body up against him as they kissed passionately. Her arms were around his neck as he pulled the small of her back against him. It felt wonderful having her body fit into his like that.

Then, they were rudely interrupted by a familiar voice, “Well it’s about bloody time!”

Ron? Popping a bottle of oak-matured mead?

His arm suddenly slid off the armrest and that woke him up. It was a dream. After two years of just nightmares about Hermione, he finally had one that was pleasant. It was what he was hoping would happen the first time they saw each other. Well, except for Ron’s interruption. Harry must have just dozed off for a moment and the ‘pop’ woke him up.

He got up from the chair and was surprised to find himself face to face with Hermione. The ‘pop’ he heard was actually her Apparating nearby. However, the sight was troubling. She had her wand aimed directly at him and she wasn’t exactly smiling. Not good. He tried to reach for his wand but…

“Blag!”

He was too late; he was blasted with a familiar binding curse that snapped both his legs and arms together, making him fall like a log to the floor. He could not move, and worse, he had hit his head hard on the edge of the chair and was bleeding. Yes, Hermione petrified him and she was standing over him, her wand in her hand.

“It seems like you’ve lost quite a bit of your reflexes since I last saw you. Don’t tell me. You spent the last two years just playing Quidditch. And, I’m so sorry about that,” she said referring to his cut on his head and feigning concern, “but I’m sure they won’t let you bleed to death. This is a hospital after all.”

She started walking away when she stopped and turned with a parting shot, “By the way, thanks for the wand.”

Great! Why did he think she would not be capable of this? Some thanks he got for helping her escape. He resolved to be more cautious and be on guard, particularly around her. But obviously, something was seriously wrong with her. He still could not believe she just hexed him!

She went over to the right side of Ron’s bed. He could not see her face directly from where he was but he could see everything on the reflection on the window. As much as he wanted to break free of her binding curse, he just wasn’t capable. He saw his wand lying a few inches away; if only he could touch it, or do what Hermione could do. He looked at her through the reflection. She was oblivious to his vantage point; hopefully she would not notice and that would allow him to see. He was not concerned at all that Ron was in any danger, especially after seeing Hermione doing what she was doing.

Hermione was holding Ron’s hand to her cheek and tears were streaming down quietly on her face. She kissed his palm and bent over to whisper something in his ear. She moved back, still crying, and held her wand up. Harry then felt his wand glow beside him and saw several spells come from Hermione’s wand hover over Ron. The first images were that of her escape and Harry was amazed at how she was able to do that easily with at least ten wizards guarding her. Then finally, he saw what he saw in his dream, Ron falling back after a flash of green light, but why did Hermione want to see it again?

Hermione closed her eyes and pointed her wand at Ron. A bright orange flame emanated from her wand, engulfed Ron and lifted him slightly off the bed for a few seconds. She did this several times, though each time the fire was a lighter shade of orange and was progressively making Hermione upset with herself. On the fifth attempt, she was sobbing openly and was unable to produce anything at all from her wand. Distracted by something just outside the room; she whispered in Ron’s ear and planted a kiss on his cheek. With that she Disapparated just as several Aurors appeared at the door. Harry regained his ability to move and got up, his hand on the bleeding cut.

“Are you ok, Harry?” Tonks asked.

A few Healers had come in to look over Ron, and one was quickly at Harry’s side too.

“It’s nothing,” he replied brushing away the Healer and walked over to Ron’s side. “How is he?”

One of the Aurors, a big hulk of a wizard, Harry recognized as one of the several Aurors who received jinxes from Hermione’s wand earlier that night, asked, “Did she try to finish him off?”

Harry did not answer. They all looked at Healer Frances.

“He is alive and indication is he has much more positive energy than before. Very interesting.” Healer Frances muttered to herself.

“What’s so interesting?” Tonks overheard and asked.

“Healing spells leave distinctive auras. What Miss Granger did or attempted to do was a healing spell indeed, but one so rare that most Healers will never be able to do. It is one of the most powerful healing spells ever known. It can cure anything, even the unknown.”

Healer Frances was obviously impressed and almost as if talking to herself, continued, “It’s very advanced magic but no amount of training can allow just anyone to be able to do it. It’s in a branch of healing referred to as opportunistic. The Healer has to meet two conditions to be able to conjure it; they have to be a witness to the injury and they have to have a strong emotional and physical bond with the patient. We read it only in books and I don’t believe it has been successfully used at all in the past 200 years.”

“Miss Granger saw how the injury was sustained and she and Mr. Weasley obviously have a strong physical and emotional relationship. Curious as to why she did not succeed. Did you see anything else, Harry?”

Harry hesitated, not sure if he should, but he was as curious as the Healer, “She tried it a few times and seemed frustrated that the orange light was becoming less bright.”

“There was a group of radical healers in the United States during the American Wizard Civil War who tried to use this spell. As most of them did not witness injuries, they took the memories from someone else and used their emotional bond as healers have with patients. There was very minimal success in their experience of the modified conditions, which is why the practice has been abandoned altogether. Of the healing failures, particularly of the more serious injuries, there was mention of a fading effect.”

Healer Frances continued, “I am not an Auror, but the Ministry might want to reconsider thinking she saw this injury happen first hand. Seeing that Miss Granger risked coming here and tried to cure him tonight, I do not think she cursed Mr. Weasley into this state.”

That explained why she had to look at the images of the event from her wand. She wasn’t there when it happened and someone else did use her wand.

“The evidence still suggests otherwise,” said the muscleman who reminded Harry of a bulldog. “Mr. Potter, we will need an official statement.”

Harry decided he did not like him already. It did not take Harry long to answer. “That’s all I saw, through the reflection on the window. I didn’t hear anything either.”

The Aurors dismissed themselves and that left him talking with Tonks.

“She wasn’t even there, Tonks.”

He told her about Hermione having to look at the wand’s previous spells.

“I was hoping that after escaping she would come to you and ask for you help. She jinxes you instead. That was quite unexpected.”

Harry replied, tracing where the cut on his head was and still quite irked that Hermione had done that, “Tell me about it.”

Tonks had her thinking face on, “What now, Harry? She could be anywhere, probably trying to catch this dark wizard or witch all by herself. I tell you this, we all know she is very smart but in the past couple of years she has become a very powerful witch. We will not find her, not when she does not want to be found.”

Harry replied, “We have to find out what she was doing, we have to find out about Project Lumos. Her apartment and her lab at the Department of Mysteries would be good places to start but they are crime scenes and I can only imagine how access will be like after Hermione’s escape tonight. It’ll be harder to break in.”

Tonks smiled, “Why break in when you can walk in?”

Harry did not understand.

“I have to talk with Kingsley. Get some rest, Harry, you don’t look too good. And come to the Ministry tomorrow when you get an invite.” Harry gave her a most puzzled look, “It’ll be better if you hear about it tomorrow; just remember to play along.”

Tonks left.

Harry did not really think more about Tonks’ plan to get him into Hermione’s apartment and lab. He was too tired and the one thought that kept coming back to him was what Healer Frances said about why Hermione failed to cure Ron. He knew it was because she did not see Ron being cursed, but part of Harry hoped it was also because Hermione and Ron were not as close physically and emotionally to each other; at least not like before.

Several meters away, just outside of St. Mungo’s, a figure in a black cloak and hood was standing in the rain and in the shadows, witnessing through omnioculars the events that just happened in Ron’s 4th level room.

The Cardinal had to come and see if the rumours were true. And they were. It was not expected but a wonderful surprise nonetheless. Harry Potter was back.

XXXXXXXXXX

A/N. Next Chapter, Ginny sheds a bit of light on what happened after Harry left.

Disclaimer : JK Rowling owns Harry Potter and the world around him.

Chapter 10. Inspector Dick

Harry spent the rest of the night at a nearby wizard hotel. He thought it best to at least warn Dobby he was in town and that he would be coming home the following night. Knowing Dobby, he would make sure everything was in order and would be all wound up if he wasn’t given enough of a warning to do this.

At 7am, a complimentary Daily Prophet started smacking Harry on the side of the head and woke him up. The front desk had likely forgotten to cancel an outstanding wake-up call ordered by the previous occupant. It had not one but two Rita Skeeter articles on its front page – one of Hermione’s capture and one of her escape. Rita sure was getting as much out of this as she could.

A Ministry owl tracked him down just as he was finishing breakfast. It was an invite from the Minister himself. The message was cryptic.

“Please come to the Minister’s office at 9am today to talk about Miss Granger.”

It was the invite Tonks had mentioned.

The Minister had pointed out that both the Ministry and Harry wanted to find Hermione. Yes, they wanted to find her for different reasons, but Scrimgeour had a proposal Harry could not refuse. In essence, he would be granted full Auror access to the investigation, even given his old position with pay, in exchange for having another Auror tag along wherever he went.

They cleared a desk for him to work on and got him started on a stack of files about the investigation. He spent the better part of that day going through the physical evidence and the witness accounts. He briefly visited Hermione’s sealed off lab on the 9th Level and saw where Dorner was found. The place had been wiped clean and any evidence proving Hermione’s innocence would surely be no longer there.

He received an owl from Ginny that she was going to be downtown that afternoon and was wondering if they could have tea. He replied right away and at 3pm, he slipped out to meet her at a teashop a couple of blocks from the office.

Ginny had not changed one bit since he left, with the exception of not being pregnant anymore. She was in studies to become a Healer and worked at St. Mungo’s part-time as a Healer’s assistant. Harry learned that Dean was an accomplished Muggle-Wizard portrait painter and was a very sought after artist among the affluent in London. The twins were certainly becoming a handful, and Dean’s flexible hours and his support allowed her to time to study. Harry was glad to hear Ginny was happy with Dean.

“So, tell me, where were you?” Ginny finally asked the burning question she had wanted to ask since he arrived.

“I was in the States, playing professional Quidditch.”

“Must have been fun. You love Quidditch,“ Ginny opined, but Harry knew her well enough to know it was actually her way to confirm a speculation.

“It was something to pass the time away and a good way to earn a living,” he answered, almost admitting to Ginny that his passion for the game had waned since he left.

“Any family, special friend waiting for you to come back?”

“No,” he shook his head.

Ginny got to the point, “So why did you really leave? Was it about a girl, some noble reason?”

Harry smiled and nodded; Ginny knew him too well.

“Don’t know about it being noble but it was so long ago and on hindsight, very stupid, it doesn’t matter. I’m here and I’m not leaving; at least not like that anymore.”

“I agree.” Ginny remarked. She was also smiling and now was staring quite pointedly at him to look at his reaction, “Sleeping with your best friend’s drunk girlfriend is way up there on stupid.”

Ginny always had a way with words and he always loved her honesty and frankness.

“I hesitate to even ask, but how did you know?” Harry was curious how she found out and who else knew.

“Well, you were obviously very attracted to her since that final year at Hogwarts, though my dense git of a brother would never have noticed. Both of you were just so different after that night I asked you to take her home when she was wasted. Then you left and she broke up with Ron. I suspected something happened so I coerced the truth from her.”

Harry just realized something, making him feel more stupid. He was not smiling anymore. No wonder Hermione looked so angry when he said she did not know what fond memory he was talking about.

“She didn’t take the potion either.”

Ginny fell silent, not contradicting him.

“She made me believe she did.”

“You made her believe you did.”

“She made me believe she wanted just one night.”

“You made her believe the same. When you left, she suspected you didn’t take the potion either. She didn’t really know how you felt about her. From what I heard there wasn’t much talking going on that night. What else can I say; you were both foolish to think the other would willingly part with that memory.”

Harry was now shaking his head and trying not to hear all the swear names he was calling himself. All the times they spent together after that night, he didn’t even suspect that she remembered. Why didn’t she just tell him and they could have figured it out together. Things would have been so different.

Ginny said cautiously, “Ron tried to find you for months but Hermione threatened to not speak to him if he did not stop. She blamed herself, you know, for everyone’s unhappiness I think it was this that finally drove her away from the Burrow.”

‘I didn’t know,” was all he could say.

His heart poured out to her for feeling it was her fault that he left. He didn’t mean for it to be her fault. It wasn’t her fault. He didn’t even notice his own tears until Ginny sat down next to him, put her arm around his shoulder and gave him her hanky. He could not look at her.

After a while, Ginny spoke first, “She never thought it could happen that way either. She thought she was giving you guys a fresh start by not having you deal with any guilt.”

“Why is she so mad at me?” he asked, hoping Ginny had a better insight into why Hermione did what she did the night before.

“I’m not sure. I can think of a few reasons. You did not drink the potion, you abandoned your friends and she was left to feel guilty about us feeling miserable that you were gone. But I think it’s mostly because you left. Considering everything I think you got off easy just getting petrified last night. If it were me, I would have thrown in at least a couple more hexes.” She smiled weakly.

“I had to leave, Ginny. I love her and Merlin knows I’ve tried to stop but I can’t. I left because I thought she had decided to marry Ron, and I was so far in I was going to mess it up,” then he turned to Ginny, he needed to know where he stood, “How does she feel about me? I mean, did she break up with Ron because of me?”

Ginny sighed, “Harry, their break-up was going to happen with or without you so don’t take too much credit for that. But do learn your lesson. The both of you were so scared of what you didn’t want to hear from the other that you missed the opportunity to hear what you wanted to. It’s so frustrating that the two smartest people I know can figure out how to get rid of Voldemort but can’t figure this out! Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate that you’re telling me that you love her because I like knowing these things about my friends, but you need to tell her how you feel about her. And don’t ask me how she feels about you. Ask her yourself. You two need to talk.”

It was weird taking that piece of advice from a former girlfriend and someone younger but Ginny was right. He had to tell Hermione, and as Ron once said, he may crash but at least he tried.

Ginny quickly added, “Maybe just not right now while she’s running away from the law, but when the dust clears a bit, if you get my drift.”

Harry told Ginny about his acceptance of the Minister’s proposal.

“Well, she won’t be happy to hear that. She asked me to talk you into leaving.”

“You saw her.”

“Last night, scared the bejeebers out of me finding her in my kitchen.”

“Did she say why she wanted me to leave?”

“Something about you being in danger, some dark wizard wanting to kill you to be more infamous, and that you have to leave before he finds out you’re back.”

“And Hermione thinks I’m going to leave if you tell me this?”

“Actually, no. That was something she said to convince me to talk you into leaving. Come to think of it, maybe she didn’t mean for you to hear that,” she grinned mischievously, ”Her exact words for you were ‘tell him I hate him and I don’t want to see him ever, again’.”

“I can’t leave,” he said, “Even if she does hate me.”

“I know that. I did tell her it was going to be a waste of time,” smiling she said, “I told her there was a better chance of you leaving if she slept with you again and pretended to forget!”

Harry laughed.

“At least you have a sense of humour about it. Harry, seriously, she may not want you here but she needs help to make everything right. She sort of rambled on about dark magic that is rare and about how there was no known way to counter-act it. I’m glad you’re staying and will work on the case. She needs you and Ron needs both of you.”

“So what do you know about this dark wizard she was talking about?”

“Not much. Last night was the first I heard of it. The Muggles do have a serial murderer at large but there’s no major dark wizard or witch on the loose, at least not one like Voldemort.”

“Has Hermione ever mentioned a Richard Tilly?”

Ginny’s forehead furrowed, “I’ve heard that name before from her I just can’t place it. How does he figure in all of this?”

“He’s a Muggle, an Inspector at the Yard. He came to the Ministry and claimed he was her boyfriend.”

“Really…I’ll let you know if I remember,” Ginny fell silent, still thinking about Richard Tilly.

“What about Ron? Was he seeing someone else as the Ministry suggests?”

“Yes, he is. Though we’ve asked her to keep it quiet. We know the Ministry is going to use that to put Hermione away.”

“Who is she?”

“Melissa, she’s an Auror too. You should know her from Hogwarts.”

Harry shrugged; he did not remember.

“They’ve been going out for about a month. She was there that night but since awaking from her injuries she can’t remember anything that happened after they arrived at Hermione’s apartment.”

A slim woman with long blonde hair and grey eyes walked towards their table and stopped, smiling at Ginny and Harry.

“Hey, Ginny,” they gave each other a peck on the cheek.

“Speak of the devil, we were just talking about you! When did you get clearance to report back?”

“Just today. Hi, Harry,” the woman smiled at him. She looked familiar, “I promise I won’t faint this time.”

Then he remembered. So Ron was seeing Melissa, the Hufflepuff who effectively killed his already minute desire for dating while still at Hogwarts.

“Melissa, how are you?” he shook her hand, “I’m sorry, I almost didn’t recognize you.”

She laughed, “It’s been a while, Harry. Listen, I was asked to trail you and report where you go and who you see. So I’m not really talking to you, okay?”

“Have a seat,” Ginny offered, “I was just telling Harry about what happened to you that night with Ron in Hermione’s apartment.”

“I wish I could remember more. But I think we were obliviated by whoever did this.”

Harry asked, “Do you know why Hermione asked Ron to be assigned to her a few months ago?”

Melissa shook her head; “I joined the Ministry just two months ago so I don’t know how it started. Ron never talked about it but most days, just from how he was after working with her, it seemed like it had something to do with experimental spell-work that wasn’t going too well. Hermione worked mostly from her apartment the past couple of months. Ron had been dropping by at least once a day.”

“Is Hermione aware you and Ron are seeing each other?” Harry asked.

“She was very supportive when Ron and I told her. I wish I could do the same for her. And I wish I could see Ron. How is he doing?”

Ginny answered, “Hermione came and performed a healing spell on him last night. Seems like there is reason for cautious optimism.”

“That’s good news. I’ll slip in later to visit,” Melissa said, “Listen, I’ve got to go back to my post; someone might check on me. It was nice seeing you again, Harry. Ginny, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“The twins will be thrilled. You spoil them,” Ginny replied and they said goodbye.

Harry and Ginny talked more as they took a stroll back to the Ministry. She told him how most accepted his want for peace, away from the attention. Even Ron defended him in an interview with the Quibbler. If Ron knew about Harry’s betrayal, he did not share that with Ginny.

An owl from the kids’ daycare found Ginny just as they arrived at the Ministry’s entrance. She said Dean forgot to pick up the twins so she had to go. When they parted, Harry and Ginny agreed that they would convince Hermione to work with Harry, if they saw her again.

He went back to the pile of documents on his desk. He found the official letters from Dorner about Project Lumos. It seemed that the project was assigned to Hermione about a year ago; then eight months later Dorner told her that what she found was sufficient and that no further work was needed. She obviously disagreed with him, witnesses saw her in Dorner’s office lots of times arguing with him. Why didn’t Dorner fire her for insubordination?

Lowes, Hermione’s former supervisor, whose death Hermione was also being blamed for, disappeared a month ago and through an anonymous tip, turned up in an unmarked grave at the local cemetery four days ago. Witnesses recalled him having an ear-splitting argument with Hermione three days before his disappearance where the words ‘Lumos’ and ‘death’ were overheard.

Lowes obviously knew about Lumos, and if this was a classified project of Hermione’s that was supposed to be known only to her and Dorner, Lowes knew something he shouldn’t have. Was he one of the chosen Unspeakables? Could he have been murdered because of it? And why bury him like a Muggle in a cemetery? There were means to magically conceal corpses forever. Unless the perpetrator wanted the body found eventually at an opportune time.

There were other questions going through his mind. What was Project Lumos and what did Tilly have to do with it? Why did Hermione ask Ron to be assigned to her? Why was her wand unused for so long and why was it not used against the Aurors trying to capture her that night?

He needed Hermione to fill in a lot of the gaps. Where are you? The question was where do you go if you were a fugitive hunting for a dark wizard?

Later that night, in a small London suburb called Gaely, Ginny Thomas was putting the twins to bed. Dean had just stepped out to do a private sitting for one of his clients and with the twins finally asleep, she could do some chores before turning in.

Her mind wandered back to her conversation with Harry. As she suspected all along, Harry Potter loved Hermione Granger. And after two years of absence, despite the distance and believing her to belong to someone else, he still did. That was so sweet. She smiled, thinking how good they would be for each other if they got together. Hermione loved Harry too; at least she did love him two years ago. Ginny had no doubt that Hermione still felt the same way, until Harry mentioned Richard Tilly. She knew exactly who Richard Tilly was the moment she heard his name.

Richard Tilly, or ‘Inspector Dick’ as Ginny christened him, was Hermione’s childhood acquaintance. They had a whirlwind two-week romance about four years ago at the time she was still seeing Ron during one of their many cool off periods.

Though Ron was her brother, Hermione was her best friend. Ginny was not one to judge her; particularly because Ginny knew how unhealthy her relationship with Ron was deteriorating into. Hermione owled Ginny when she and the Inspector were really getting serious, asking Ginny to keep an eye on Ron because she had told him too. Unfortunately, Inspector Dick bailed on her when she told him she was a witch. Maybe after four years he changed his mind.

Ginny did not have the heart to tell Harry who Richard Tilly was, not after hearing how despite two years of being away and trying to move on, he still loved Hermione. If what Harry said was fact and Richard Tilly was indeed Hermione’s present boyfriend, she could only think, “Poor Harry, you caught her at a bad time yet again.”

XXXXXXXXXX

A/N. Any thoughts on Inspector Dick? I hope you’re all prepared for him.

Disclaimer: Thanks to JK Rowling for creating Harry and his world.

Chapter 11. Project Lumos

Harry went home to Number 12 Grimmauld Place after work that night. He was pleasantly surprised that Dobby had truly done a wonderful job of keeping it standing and actually fit for habitation.

“Welcome home, Harry Potter, sir!” Dobby was all over him and he was trying to gently push him away.

“Dobby…Dobby. Stop!” he said finally but found Dobby still very excited.

Dobby immediately prepared Harry his favourite supper and on Harry’s request, joined him for dinner. Harry tried to listen to Dobby’s stories about how he was able to get rid of the last vestiges of the House of Black.

“Dobby knows it has been a long day for you sir,” Dobby must have noticed Harry was quite distracted.

“I’m sorry, Dobby,” Harry apologized, and told Dobby about Ron and about Hermione.

Dobby suddenly disappeared with a loud cracking sound, leaving Harry thinking he must have offended him. Not five seconds later, he reappeared beside Harry with Ron’s familiar wizard chess set box.

“Your bestest friend, sir, Ronald Weasley,” Dobby saw Harry’s puzzled look, “he left this with Dobby about a week ago. He said if something bad happens to him or your friend Hermione Granger, and you come back, Dobby has to give it to you.”

Harry took the wooden box from Dobby and was still baffled why Ron would give him his old wizard chess set. He lifted the cover and it made a lot more sense when he saw that it contained, not chess pieces, but several phials of silvery substance that he assumed were memories. Harry found a note in Ron’s familiar handwriting. It was dated a week ago.

Harry,

If you get this then it must be really bad. I hope it’s not too late for everybody. I’ve collected a few memories of events spanning the last five months. I’ll try to add more memories as we go along. I leave it up to your discretion whom to share the information with but I suggest looking at all the memories alone the first time around.

In case we do not see each other again, I just wanted to let you know, despite everything, I still consider us best friends. And if you still love her then fight for her. We had a fun run, Harry, and I really hope we see each other in the future.

Ron

He lost himself in thought staring at the last paragraph of Ron’s note. He did still love her and always would, and now he had Ron’s blessing. Somehow, that did not make much of a difference at the moment.

Excusing himself from Dobby he took the box up with him to his study. He set up his pensieve and opened the box of phials which were labelled with dates. Taking the earliest one dated about five months ago, Harry poured it into the pensieve, leaned over and fell…

He fell into Hermione’s apartment, in her office. He saw Ron and Hermione standing across from each other. Ron had his arms crossed in front of him, seemingly mad at her.

“You what?” Ron was starting to get red faced. It was a memory of a Ron and Hermione argument.

“I’ve asked Dorner to have Kingsley assign you to me.”

“You want me to babysit you.”

Ron’s expression was dry. Harry knew Aurors hated it when they were assigned to Unspeakables. It was beneath them to be bodyguards but Unspeakables usually got their way.

“Well, on paper I have to request for protection. That’s the only way I can get it approved. It will not exactly be a babysitting job.”

Ron looked at her, suspiciously, “What exactly will it be?”

“I need your help to finish a project. I need you to do some spells.”

“Since when did you need help with anything related to work?” Ron asked, seemingly calming down.

“Since today,” she replied, “Please, Ron, you’re the only one I can trust with this.”

Harry hoped Ron would press a bit more but he didn’t.

“I’m guessing this is not within protocol but I’ve always wondered what you guys did.”

“Great! We can get started on some background info!”

“Hold on! The guys are going to the pitch for a game of pick-up Quidditch,” Ron complained. “Can we start tomorrow?”

“Well, you said you wondered what we Unspeakables did. A game of pick-up Quidditch isn’t one of them,” she smiled offering him a chair beside her.

Ron was muttering his regrets under his breath.

“Have you heard of the Cardinal Curses?”

Harry had not but Ron had.

“That’s all folklore. As kids we heard horrible stories about them, but they were all just that, horror stories, usually with a moral lesson of some sort.”

Hermione nodded, “Legend has it that there is a set of unstoppable curses that can be used to punish those who live outside of what was considered appropriate behaviour. The curses are supposed to feed on any of the many negative emotions we all have. But some cleric a while back decided to use the legend to teach.”

Ron remembered, “Yes, to dissuade kids from committing the seven cardinal sins; lust, gluttony, sloth, greed, anger, envy, and…”

“Pride. Seven cardinal sins, seven cardinal curses. I was asked by Dorner a few months ago to develop counter curses for them. That’s the project I need help on, Lumos.”

Harry was excited to finally be on the verge of finding out what Lumos was about.

Ron’s eyes widened, “Are you telling me that these curses actually exist?”

“Well, yes and no. I had a problem with Lumos. As far as I knew, the curses did not exist and I couldn’t produce the curses to create counter-curses.”

“A spell Hermione Granger cannot conjure. That’s a first. It’s a stupid project then,” Ron concluded.

Hermione concurred, “I thought so too. So I asked Dorner for more information about the actual cardinal curses and he said someone else was still working on that. I suggested that it would have made more sense if we worked together but Dorner was adamant that I continue with a theoretical model only.”

“So, I did some research. Like most legends, the cardinal curses have a historical basis. There have been anecdotal reports of the use of similar curses, not named as such, but in principle, used negative emotions of another to achieve one’s desired outcome, the last time about 500 years ago. A dark witch, Morgania claimed in memoirs that she had used these curses all the time to evade capture until her death in 1528. Merlin was believed to have used it to defeat dark wizards around 500AD. A Muggle-born wizard is credited with the first such curse after his wife had agreed to be executed in his stead to pay his gambling debts. In his anger, it is said that he had used a spell on the Muggles who executed his wife, focusing on their greed and his wrath, causing their deaths. He subsequently used the curses to rob and steal and was never caught by authorities.”

“Three in a span of a thousand years. That doesn’t sound too scary,” Ron opined.

“But it can be scary,” Hermione replied, “It is believed that these curses impair an opponent’s ability to cast or evade spells, and make one’s spells more powerful than usual; almost impossible to protect against. Can you imagine what it would have been like had Voldemort been able to perform them?”

“True, but if you can’t do the curses, there won’t be many who can, aside from those dead people you mentioned.”

Hermione disagreed, “That may not be necessarily true. The reason I can’t do these curses is because they are opportunistic.”

Harry heard that word before.

“They are what?”

“Opportunistic, not everyone can perform them. If you look into opportunistic magic, different events and/or situations in life enable different magical opportunities.”

Then Harry remembered, the healing spell Hermione performed on Ron the night she escaped was opportunistic magic!

“So, I had to find that commonality among those who were believed to have conjured it, you know, those dead people. I found that they all lived because of another person’s willing sacrifice of their own. It’s not scientifically reproducible because the enabling condition is so rare. And I suspect that they are difficult to conjure and very advanced spells to master which explains why the curses have only occurred sporadically in the past thousand years.”

“Do you think I can perform the curses?” Ron asked, thinking that was what Hermione needed help with.

“You can try, though I seriously doubt that you can. I don’t think you are enabled,” Hermione said truthfully, “I need your help with the report submission. I’ve put together the theory of the counter-curses based on my theoretical cardinal curses as that prick Dorner wants, but because of the highly sensitive information I would rather the report be sealed such that only the current Head of the Department of Mysteries and the current Minister for Magic can read it.”

“I didn’t know that could be done,” Ron said.

Hermione smiled, “That’s one thing that we Unspeakables do, Ron. Find ways to do things that others say can’t be done. The confidentiality spell is commonly used for short notes. Using this for an entire report is a project in itself and I can’t do it alone. I need your help putting the report together from scratch.”

“Why bother with it? You don’t even know if the curses and counter-curses you developed work.”

Harry thought Ron had a point.

Hermione smiled, “Thank you for your confidence!”

Ron replied hurriedly, trying to take back what he just said, “I didn’t mean it that way. I meant…”

“It’s okay, Ron. I know what you mean. I prefer to err on the side of caution, just in case they do work, and I have a feeling they will.”

“Why don’t you find someone enabled to test them for you?” Ron asked and the answer to Harry was kind of obvious.

“Sure, we could do that, if we were prepared to deal with another Voldemort.”

Harry felt himself being pulled back up to his study. Thanks to Ron’s memory he now knew what Project Lumos was and why Hermione asked Ron to be assigned to her five months ago. At least what she told Ron. It just still seemed odd that she would explain such a highly confidential and sensitive project to Ron just so he could help seal it. Maybe it took two people to conjure the confidentiality spell. Harry sensed the confidentiality spell was also confidential he probably could not look it up in a common book or ask the local librarian. He would try anyways.

Harry replaced the memory he just saw back into its phial and poured the contents of the next one into the Pensieve. He wanted to see one more memory before turning in. It was dated two months ago.

He fell into darkness. He heard Hermione shrieking at someone to get out. Then he finally saw her; she was just inside the entrance to a bachelor’s pad shoving a half-naked brunette outside the door and throwing her clothes at her.

“And don’t even think of coming back!” she said angrily.

“Who are you? His mother?!” the woman screamed at Hermione.

“Worse, I’m his conscience!” she replied as she slammed the door in her face.

Harry couldn’t help the smile that formed on his face. Harry turned to Ron, who he could see was in bed under the sheets.

“Blimey, Hermione! Why did you have to do that for?” Ron said, then calling out to the woman at the door, "I'll owl you, Sheila!"

The woman answered back, "The name is Stasia! And don't bother!"

“Really, Ronald,” she lectured him, “You should be more selective about choosing the women you’re with!”

It was déjà vu. Hogwarts Hermione bickering with Hogwarts Ron. The only difference was they were older, and Hermione, he noticed, was as thin and as sleep deprived as he could remember her, including during their third year at Hogwarts when she was using the time-turner to attend more classes. She looked unwell.

“I think it’s only fair that since you do not want to be with me, I can at least be with someone who does,” then Ron muttered under his breath, “I must have been out of my mind giving you a key.”

“Get dressed, I need your help.”

“Seriously, it’s my day off. I remember the last time you asked for my help, I think the spell you asked me to do still smarts.”

“This is going to be much worse, Ron,” she answered gravely, “It’s bad, really bad.”

Ron paused and appraised her request for a moment, decided that she was serious

“Well, can you just turn around?” Ron motioned with his finger.

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh, “I’ve seen it before you know and there’s really not much to see!”

She quickly turned as he requested, tapping her toes, as she waited. Harry laughed as he thought it best to turn around too.

Hermione said as Ron passed her with a pair of jeans on, “Don’t you think it’s about time you cleaned up around here?”

“Nope,” came Ron’s quick reply, “So, what’s this about?”

“Not here, my apartment,” she said as she headed out the door.

Harry and Ron followed her out. Ron locked his apartment with his wand and caught up with Hermione, who was walking very briskly.

“It’s a thousand degrees out, let’s Apparate,” Ron whined when he caught up to her.

“The exercise will do you good,” she replied and walked even faster.

Ron glanced sideways to her as they walked, “By the way, Ginny’s really worried about you.”

“Tell her she shouldn’t be,” Hermione replied.

“She won’t believe it unless you see her to tell her yourself. Why don’t you come to the Burrow this Sunday for dinner? Mom’s having the lot over.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Then Ron said with a bothered look on his face, “You can’t avoid everyone forever, Hermione.”

“I know. I’ll think about it, okay?”

She was trying to not give a definite answer. And Ron backed off though Harry could see Ron was still visibly concerned. Ginny had mentioned that Hermione had distanced herself from the other Weasleys. Why was she avoiding them? He found it hard to believe that after almost two years it was still because of him.

Harry estimated that Hermione’s apartment was probably about ten blocks away. It surprised him that Hermione insisted to walk rather than Apparate; it was midday and the streets were packed. About halfway Hermione came to an abrupt stop and Harry went through her.

“Wait!” she said to Ron who stood beside her looking at a display of television sets in a local Muggle appliance chain. The same news story was being shown across all fifty screens.

Tenth Stabbing Victim Found

“Of course!” Hermione exclaimed loudly that she drew the attention of people walking on the sidewalk.

“What?” Ron asked.

“We have to find some Muggle newspapers,” she replied and walked even faster.

Harry remembered how much he and Ron were annoyed when she did that.

Steps away from her apartment they found a newspaper stand and bought a few different dailies.

Hermione waved to the building ambassador as they passed and got on the elevator. At her apartment door, she took out a key and let them in.

“In my office, Ron,” she said as she opened the fridge and grabbed them a couple of butterbeers.

“What’s this about, Hermione?” Ron asked as he took one from her.

“I didn’t want you involved but I have no choice; there’s no one else I can trust.”

She looked like she was about to cry. Ron walked towards her, swung his long arms around her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze.

“I’m here. I’m listening.”

She took two pieces of parchments from her jeans pocket. She handed them to Ron one after the other. Harry joined him as he read.

Miss Granger,

His wrath will no longer cause pain in the world. Congratulations. Utile Ira works wonderfully well.

The Cardinal

The second note was also cryptic.

Miss Granger,

Lust ravaged his soul. As a comfort, he did die quite happy. I would be so disappointed if your counter curses do not work. I know you are one not to disappoint.

The Cardinal

“Holy shit…” was all Ron could say.

It was what Hermione was afraid of.

Hermione buried her face in her hands, “I was so stupid for agreeing to do this.”

“In the first place, we don’t even know if this is true. It could be a prank,” Ron tried to comfort her, “And if it is true, it’s not your fault. You were just doing your job.”

“Tell that to the nuclear scientists who created the first atomic bomb.”

“The who who did what?” Hermione lost Ron.

“Never mind. Anyway, it’s definitely not a prank. I have to fix this, Ron, I can’t let this Cardinal use what I created to do horrible things.”

“There’s absolutely no proof that this Cardinal is doing what these notes imply.”

“I asked Dorner to re-open Lumos.”

“No, you shouldn’t have, don’t do this to yourself,” Harry thought it was actually good that she did.

“The counters are not ready, you know that. You have to help me,” Hermione was pleading with him and Harry could not remember the last time Hermione pleaded with anyone.

“Nothing has changed in three months,” Ron said, “We still can’t conjure the curses to see if your counters work.”

“Look at the notes, Ron! What else do you see?”

Harry looked closely, and he saw what she meant. Ron’s face dropped. Harry suspected he would see it too considering how much dependent they were on Hermione’s notes from their classes throughout Hogwarts. The notes looked like Hermione wrote them herself.

“This Cardinal is already thinking about who to blame for this! We have to do something!”

Her outburst startled Ron and Harry. Ron relented, “Okay, calm down. What did Dorner say?”

“I came to him when I got the first note six days ago. He said that since there was no mysterious death reported it was a prank by someone who overheard me working in my lab. He said he would investigate.”

“When did the second note arrive?”

“Early this morning, and I immediately showed it to him. He’s still unconvinced. I told him I was going to re-open Lumos and he forbade me to do it. He said he was shutting down several special projects. I disagreed and I asked him to at least let the Minister know. I don’t think he will and he is trying to sweep everything under the rug to cover his tracks so when this thing blows, he’s not anywhere near it.”

Ron pondered for a moment, “I hate to tell you this, but Dorner is right. We really don’t have any proof that murders have been committed.”

Hermione went over the desk where the dailies were, “Ron, I think the Cardinal has been practicing on Muggles.”

“Well, there’s an interesting thought. And you think he or she is covering it up to look like Muggle murders?”

“I certainly hope I’m wrong but we need to speak with someone from the Yard, unofficially for now.”

“Explaining this to a wizard is bad enough, but to a Muggle? Now that will be a cheerful conversation, not to mention a violation of about one hundred and ten Ministry of Magic laws,” Ron said sarcastically as he browsed a headline, “Or maybe it will be easier than we think. What was the name of that bloke you know at the Yard?”

Hermione frowned at Ron. Harry noted it too, how Ron had a most unsavoury expression and tone as he said ‘bloke’.

“You mean Ritchie. You’re right, he works at the Yard.”

Ron turned the paper to let Hermione see the serial murder headline story.

“I guess it’s our lucky day. Richard Tilly is lead Inspector for the case.”

Then Harry found himself thrown back into his study.

Several miles away, at Spinner’s End, a hooded figure knocked on the door of an old house. A sallow face of a middle-aged man appeared from behind the door and appraised his visitor before fully opening the door to allow her to enter.

“Good Evening, Professor Snape.” The visitor lowered the hood to reveal herself.

“I am flattered you had the time to drop by for a visit. I heard you were very busy, ‘running around’. To what do I owe the pleasure, Miss Granger?”

A/N. This is the stripped down version of what Project Lumos is about and what the Cardinal Curses are (the original was horribly longer!) Hope you’re all keeping up.

Return to Top

Disclaimer : I'm not JK Rowling. She created Harry and his world.

Chapter 12. An Unwanted Suggestion

Hermione went into Professor Snape’s house and took the seat he offered. He quickly conjured some drinks out of thin air. She was exhausted and welcomed the respite in the safety of his house and his company. Snape finally proved during the war with Voldemort that Dumbledore had been right to trust him. Getting rid of Voldemort would have been close to impossible had it not been for him.

“Professor, I need your help.”

“I gathered as much, Miss Granger,” he was staring at her intensely.

‘I’d really rather you didn’t use Legilimency on me. I will willingly answer as much of your questions as I can,’ Hermione voice sprang up in Snape’s mind.

He smiled at her.

“I’m so sorry, old habit you see. I find it quite mundane not having such challenges anymore, and you have developed into a wonderful challenge it was just difficult to pass up. I am impressed by how you are able to use my mind as a point in space to converse. What is it called, if it even has a name?”

“Legiventroliqy, it’s something I’ve recently worked on.”

“Impressive, which makes me even more curious how I can assist you.”

“Cardinal curses.”

His eyebrows raised and he paced his living room.

“Mr. Weasley is at St. Mungo’s, was he a victim of one?”

She nodded.

“Well, there are schools of thought that because cardinal curses are not reproducible and seem to prop up in history sporadically, they are opportunistic in nature,” he paused and looked at her, “but then, you knew that already. Have you figured out how the individual’s ability could be enabled? ”

“A sacrifice, life for life.”

“It’s good to know that you have done your research. Morgania was the hard one to figure out. It turns out even old hags like her had lovers. Her memoirs left out the most important aspect of how she acquired the ability but I see you found out anyways.”

“Professor, I have difficulty believing how an act so pure could evolve into something evil.”

“Historically, the ancient magic of self sacrifice has always favoured positive magic. In fact, if you look at opportunistic magic itself, you will be hard-pressed to find applications to the dark arts, with the exception of the cardinal curses. Even then, Merlin used the cardinal curses to suppress the dark forces of his time. After all, if you really think about it, if your life has been spared willingly by someone who sacrifices their own life so yours could continue, you should have that tendency to be a do-gooder, so why would you want to perform magic using strong negative human traits.”

“Except for the few who exploit their gift and apply it to the dark arts.”

“Miss Granger, humans are a huge reserve of the seven cardinal sins, there is way much less people out there with an overabundance of the seven contrary virtues, which are thought to be the natural balance. It is tempting particularly because it is a rare magical talent,” Professor Snape asked, “What is the problem, Miss Granger?”

“The problem is there is an enabled wizard out there who is using cardinal curses to murder. Including Dorner, seventeen have died in the past four months.”

His eyebrows furrowed, “But, we have not had…” then he realized, “The Muggle deaths?”

She nodded and showed him a note. He read it and gave it back.

“Looks like this ‘Cardinal’ is a fun sort and wants to play with the brightest witch of her generation. You do have your hands full, Miss Granger, considering you and I know you cannot perform these curses, no matter how bright you are.”

“You, Sir, on the other hand probably could,” Hermione said plainly and awaited a response.

A smirk formed at the corner of his mouth, “Is that the real reason for this visit? Am I a suspect?”

“You are near the top of the list,” Hermione confirmed.

“You are thinking that since Professor Dumbledore saved my life by allowing me to kill him, I enabled myself.”

“It does seem like a violation of the spirit of self sacrifice,” Hermione said, “But entirely plausible.”

“Miss Granger, as much as I cherish being a villain, I am not the Cardinal. As always, just being on your list of suspects flatters me,” Snape replied sarcastically.

“I know you are not the Cardinal,” Hermione answered, “As you said, the Cardinal is a ‘fun’ sort. That’s hardly a depiction you would want to be associated with.”

“True. Dark witches and wizards nowadays are so lacking of the concept of absolute terror,” he rolled his eyes up, “Sending stupid notes to challenge Unspeakables instead of just killing them. What a disgrace to the Dark Arts!”

Hermione almost laughed at how serious he was. It was, thankfully, true.

“Professor, I need a collaborator for my research. I need someone who can do the curses so I can test the counter curses. Will you help me?”

Snape stared at Hermione, contemplating an answer, “Let us pretend for a while that I am enabled and that I am interested, which I really am not. You must have something in mind to make sure I don’t become another Cardinal.”

She shrugged, “It’s not much, really. Just an Unbreakable Vow not to use them outside of the test sessions with me.”

Hermione heard Snape laugh out loud for the first time.

Teary eyed from laughing too much, Snape responded, “Forgive me, Miss Granger. It’s not that I do not appreciate the gravity of the situation; I just find it amusing to be at the receiving end of such a proposal.”

Hermione was disappointed, “You decline.”

“As I said, I am not interested. Enabled or not, I recognize my predispositions and would rather not have that kind of knowledge. I have also lost taste for such vows, you know, a previous bad experience. In fact, if I could make an Unbreakable vow not to make another Unbreakable vow for the rest of my life, I would.”

Hermione tried to hide the frustration in her eyes. She was running out of options.

“Professor, in your opinion, is there was a way for me to get rid the Cardinal?”

“You know your history, Miss Granger. The ability to perform the curses makes one almost invincible. Your odds are slim to none. You probably could wish for lightning or a most unfortunate accident on the Cardinal and the likelihood would be better. However, I do have a suggestion.” He paused, looked at Hermione with his piercing eyes. “I presume you have figured out how to perform the curses and the counters. Forget me. Train someone else. Someone who is definitely enabled and who you could definitely trust not to become another Cardinal.”

With that, he picked up a copy of the Daily Prophet for the day and threw it on the coffee table right in front of Hermione. A picture of Harry was on the front page of the news with a Rita Skeeter by line. The headline read, “Harry is back!”

Professor Snape added, “Mr. Potter always gets the headlines. I’m sure he won’t refuse having a war with another Voldemort wannabe. And if I were the Cardinal, I’d be thinking why kill you if I will be more famous when I kill him.”

Hermione thanked the Professor for his time but left very furious. This was exactly the reason why she had Ginny tell Harry to leave and get him to leave at all cost. Did she have to do everything herself?

She thought about the events of two years ago for the first time in a long while. It seemed so distant, that one night of intimacy they shared, or idiocy as she now referred to it.

Hermione told Ron about her feelings for Harry after dinner at a fancy Muggle restaurant the night after he got back from his first major assignment following Auror graduation. She interrupted his attempt to propose, kissed him intimately for the last time and ‘officially’ broke up with him. Ron knew she was serious this time but took it really badly, particularly because his best friend, who was always the center of the universe, had unwittingly taken his girl’s affection from him. He threw Muggle money on the table, and stormed out of the restaurant red faced.

As Hermione got back to her apartment she almost tripped over a night service owl that was trying to deliver a letter. She immediately recognized Harry’s handwriting on the note and found it curious that he did not send Hedwig.

She started reading it as she got off the elevator; not really noticing how she got into her apartment. She finished reading the letter just as she closed the door behind her. She felt dizzy and light-headed; she read it over and over again. For the longest time she couldn’t comprehend what it meant.

And then she did. Harry was gone. He had left. Her heart ripped apart at its seams, and left a constant gnawing pain inside her chest. She collapsed to the floor and cried a river. In a distant background she heard Ron pounding on her door. Then she felt him beside her and lifting her up to her couch. Ron said to her, “I’ll find him; he’ll be back.”

Ron held her that night. She cried until no more tears would come; she cried until sleep mercifully came to her.

The initial months after Harry left were rough on everyone, particularly Hermione. After all, she firmly believed it was her fault that he left, though at that time nobody, except Ginny, knew why. His leaving affected so many lives. For quite some time, Ron came to see her everyday to check up on her. He began to look for Harry as he said he would, but Hermione told him, and finally coerced him, not to waste his time. Ron was there when she set his note on fire. Ron was there when she rid her apartment and office of everything that would remind her of him. They comforted each other with the loss of their friend, as she imagined they would have done had Harry died. And to her, Harry was as good as dead. The one good thing that came out of it was that Ron was her best friend again.

Hermione was never angry with Harry. It was a choice he made and she respected that. It just hurt so much that she lost not only the man she loved but her best friend too. She was more disappointed that he chose not to keep in touch.

She did not believe the lies Harry tried to sell to everyone else about why he left. His last letter told her the real story.

You were probably right; some memories are better off forgotten.

Harry remembered what she said on that secrecy note which could only mean he did not take the potion. The memory of their night drove him away and he did not care enough about her to stay and deal with his guilt and regret.

Ginny thought Harry left because he cared too much; too much about her and too much about Ron. No, Hermione couldn’t allow herself to assume that. It was easier to move on with her life thinking he didn’t care.

Through Ron’s help she dragged herself to and from work, and finally redirected her energies to her projects. Soon after, Dorner took her aside and asked her if she wanted to work on some special assignments that would remain ‘unofficial’. Before she could even think what he was asking, she said yes, yes to the opportunity to spend every waking hour not being able to think about anything else; or anyone else.

Her first special project was called Remote. It was to look into the possibility of establishing a connection with any wand not in possession. In four months she had come up with using the innate properties of the wand, the wood from which it was made and its core, to do this.

What came next was Projection. She created Legiventroliqy by combining the principles of Legilimency and ventriloquism; impressing Dorner with the speed she had accomplished her first two projects.

The other thing that was extraordinary about this was that Dorner could not find any other witch or wizard in the Ministry’s employ able to perform her inventions. They were very advanced magic that could only be performed by the very gifted.

Then there was Lumos. She told Dorner it was to be her final special project when she submitted it four months ago.

Hermione had to admit; Harry’s arrival came as a shock. She did not expect to see him again and his timely arrival made her escape possible. If he had not come, she would be dead, or worse, in Azkaban, and the Cardinal situation would have gotten from bad to worse; with Ron in the hospital, her in Azkaban reliving the horrors of creating the murdering monster and a Muggle who knew everything but would not be able to talk to any witch or wizard about it.

Her heart stopped beating for a moment when their eyes first met in the St Mungo holding cell. A wide gamut of emotions quickly overwhelmed her and she immediately suppressed an initial instinct to embrace and kiss him passionately. Thinking how much more attractive he was and how good he looked, she was almost sure he must have someone taking care of him. His absolute absence for two years with nary a note or an owl screamed, “I don’t care enough about you to even bother doing that.”

She saw her reflection on the glass window and thought how awful she looked. She could certainly make more of a fool of herself than she already was. And he did say he came back because he heard about Ron, not because he heard about her. As much as she hoped otherwise, after two years she still loved him. Harry’s return confirmed it, just as Ron suspected it would. And when she thought she was done feeling that way about him, the gnawing ache in her chest started. She was miffed that he made her feel that way all over again just by showing up.

When Harry asked if she wanted to talk about why she was there, she was tempted. If there was one person in the world she trusted aside from Ron, it was Harry. But she could not. For one thing, the Cardinal was someone who either was employed by the Ministry or had very close ties to someone in a position of great import. Someone was listening on the other side of the glass window and the last thing she wanted was for the Cardinal to know what she knew and what she was trying to do.

And it was personal. The Cardinal took something she created and used it to kill. Hermione felt responsible for giving the Cardinal his tools for murder but seeing Ron that night, lying on her apartment floor, almost lifeless and unresponsive, she felt a piece of her die. Ron almost passed on because of her and Hermione was not going to make the same mistake with Harry by getting him involved in her war with the Cardinal.

Professor Snape was right; Harry was enabled because of his mother’s gift and would take on the challenge. That would be so unfair because it would be like Voldemort all over again. Yes, he would have a choice to walk away, but he would never do that, even if it meant he was going to die. It would be so unfair to put him in that situation again.

Hermione was surprised at how easy she was able to use Harry’s wand to communicate with him and how invigorating it was. She knew he would not fail her if she asked him for her wand. But if he stayed in town the Cardinal would find out, then Harry would never leave. Hermione wanted him to leave.

That night she escaped she was positive Harry would be with Ron waiting for her and she was prepared to petrify him. Harry would want to talk and that would be a distraction. She had no time to spare that night. The Aurors would surely check Ron’s room first. She had to perform that healing spell she read about during her research on opportunistic magic and she wasn’t sure if she could pull it off. She was disappointed when she left that night though buoyed by news from Ginny that it made Ron better.

One thing was for certain; Hermione had to get to Harry and drive him away, before the Cardinal got to him. Making him feel that he wasn’t welcome was part of that plan. The last thing she wanted on her conscience was to be responsible for the death of Harry Potter.

xxxxxxxxxx

The sun woke Harry up the following morning. Breakfast was ready when he came down. He was wondering whether he would have some time to look at Ron’s third memory before reporting for work when an ugly head suddenly protruded from the embers in his fireplace. It was Hector Aimes, the ultra-fit Auror he met the night of Hermione’s escape.

“Potter, come to the Ministry. There’s been a murder and its got your name written all over it. Looks like your friend did not waste time to commit another one.”

Harry was fuming as he flooed quickly into the Ministry and found Aimes waiting for him. Harry followed him and they Apparated to the crime scene.

They were in a dark deserted alley in one of the roughest parts of town. Harry followed Aimes deeper into the darkness and felt his body going through a veil. Beyond it the alley was bustling with activity from Ministry officials. He saw Tonks among a few other Aurors looking over a still figure up against the far wall beside a restaurant service entrance. As they approached, the crowd cleared a path and he could see what Aimes meant.

Written on the victim’s body in red, which Harry guessed was the victim’s own blood, were the words,

Harry, a present for you. Catch me if you can. Three down, three to go until you.

Aimes could not pass up an opportunity, “Seems like whoever did this knows you personally. Do you recognize the handwriting or should I just tell you whose it is?”

He did not answer. The handwriting was very familiar. It was Hermione’s.

Disclaimer : JK Rowling created Harry.

Author's Warning : HHr shippers may not like this particular chapter.

Chapter 13 – Dinner for Three

While a majority of the Magical Law Enforcement Department was at the site of her alleged latest murder, Hermione was at St. Mungo’s. She was just about finished. The flame surrounding Ron was already a faint tinge of orange and she couldn’t conjure another one without first getting some rest. Healer Frances said that this was expected of a healing spell of such magnitude.

Healer Frances was not one who usually broke rules but her patients always came first. Ronald Weasley was easily her most famous patient to date. His role in supporting Harry Potter to defeat Voldemort was well known. And of course there was Hermione Granger, the young woman at his bedside. She was a role model for young witches throughout the country until recently and Healer Frances witnessed first hand just how skilled a witch she was for her age.

It was rubbish how the Ministry continued to insist on her guilt. Healer Frances spoke with Ginny Weasley and asked her to pass on a proposal for Miss Granger to come twice a day to perform healing sessions on Mr. Weasley. Miss Granger immediately accepted and even asked Healer Frances how to improve her technique that morning. A few minor adjustments later, both witches felt that was the best they could do.

“That should be enough for now, Miss Granger,” Healer Frances interrupted, “We’ll see you again, tonight?”

“See you tonight,” Hermione smiled weakly, “Thank you for allowing me to do this.”

“You take care, dear,” Healer Frances replied, “I hope the Ministry comes to its senses.”

Hermione merely nodded as Healer Frances disappeared from the doorway.

Ginny was as brutally honest as usual, “You look like shit.”

“Thanks,” Hermione replied with a grin, “I saw the Prophet interview.”

“Oh yeah, doesn’t he look handsome on that picture?” Ginny said naughtily.

“You were supposed to tell him to go away.”

“So I did,” Ginny shrugged her shoulders, “He’s as stubborn as always. I told you it was a waste of time. He tells me Inspector Dick is back.”

“We’re working on the case together,” Hermione was almost ready to go, “I’ll see you later.”

Ginny had one parting thought, “I was right you know.”

“About what?” Hermione was putting her cloak on.

“About why he left. He says he still loves you, and you and I know he can’t lie even if his life depended on it.”

Hermione was not interested, “I can’t deal with that right now, Gin. I have to go.”

They gave each other a hug.

Ginny said, “It’s just so you know, in case he doesn’t get around to telling you himself.”

Hermione gave Ron a kiss on the cheek and whispered in his ear, just before Disapparating.

xxxxxxxxxx

It was obvious to Harry that the Cardinal was going through great lengths to have authorities believe Hermione was the murderer. In fact, had he not known Hermione as well as he did, all the evidence did lead to her. But why did the Cardinal not want credit for them? Lunatics usually did.

The Ministry assumed that the first two murders the message pertained to were those of Dorner and Lowes. The third victim was Lyle Franks, a 36 year old half-blood who taught at a local Muggle primary school. He was unmarried and from what they gathered was well liked by people he knew.

The Aurors on the scene immediately identified Franks' connection with Hermione. The victim’s appointment schedule from three weeks ago was peppered with meetings at Hermione’s apartment and the school secretary identified Hermione as having asked personal questions about Franks, saying that the latter was being nominated for a teaching award.

Seven planned murders, if Harry was to count himself. Could it be one wizard murder each for each cardinal curse?

With the Aurors busy milling around looking for evidence to incriminate Hermione even further, he had an opportunity to slip out of the office unnoticed later that morning. He wanted to look at the rest of the memories contained in the phials Ron left for him. Surely, Ron had a compelling reason not to let the Ministry know as late as last week. Maybe the reason no longer existed and he could clear Hermione by letting them see Ron’s memory of two months ago. Then they could actually focus on trying to find the Cardinal.

He dropped by the Ministry library on his way out to look up the confidentiality spell. The librarian looked at him blankly. As he suspected, if it existed, it was not for public consumption. He sent a note to Kingsley asking him if he knew of such a spell and did not expect an immediate answer. He would check on that tomorrow and maybe then he could tell Kingsley, Remus and Tonks what this was about. Harry wondered why Hermione and Ron didn't tell them about the Cardinal at all.

Harry flooed into Number 12 Grimmauld Place and went up to his study. He poured and followed the contents of the third phial into the Pensieve. He found himself in a Muggle restaurant in Downtown London, the same restaurant he last saw Hermione and Ron in.

Hermione was dressed appropriately for the place, which was famous for having affluent clientele. Ron, on the other hand, was a bit underdressed and was slouched over, munching a piece of bread. Then Harry realized that he was under Harry's old invisibility cloak.

“You couldn’t have chosen a less memorable restaurant, could you?” Ron said pointedly.

Hermione turned to him and apologized under her breath, “I’m sorry, he suggested it and I didn’t realize where it was until I looked up the address.”

“Why do you have to do this over dinner anyways?”

“I don’t know how he will react. I think a public Muggle place would considerably limit his choices and the potential of having an Obliviator Squad come down on us. And can you not eat all the bread? The waiter is already looking at me funny.”

She smiled at the waiter who was passing by and eyeing the second empty tray on her table.

“I can’t help it I’m hungry!”

“Ron, you’re always hungry. Oh, he’s here, move over.”

Ron vacated the seat in front of Hermione and sat on the ledge to her right. Harry sat beside Ron as he hissed, “That’s Richard Tilly? How could I have possibly competed with that?”

Hermione whispered, “You’re taller.”

Harry saw a blonde well-dressed man of medium height with a million dollar smile was on his way to Hermione’s table. He was causing a lot of heads to turn and there were mutterings of whether or not he was an actor on Broadway. Harry could understand the commotion. Begrudgingly, he had to admit that this bloke was good looking, in fact too good looking to be having dinner with Hermione by himself.

“Jane, it’s so wonderful to see you.”

“Hello Ritchie. Thanks for coming.”

They leaned over and as Hermione offered a cheek, Ritchie moved back and to Hermione’s left such that they ended up kissing each others’ lips over the table, right in front of Ron’s gaping expression and Harry’s furious one. Hermione didn’t seem to mind. The waiter poured them some wine and left them to go over the menu.

Hermione spoke, “It’s so good of you to see me on short notice, considering how busy you are.”

“You sounded quite serious on the phone,” Ritchie replied, “I got the impression that this was not an entirely social call. I find it hard to believe that you’re finally returning my hundreds of phone calls and letters from four years ago.”

Ron forgot he was supposed to be invisible and exclaimed, “What?” Harry didn’t remember Hermione ever mentioning Richard Tilly from four years ago. Was he an admirer? That’s probably why Ginny thought the name was familiar.

Hermione ignored Ron’s outburst hoping Ritchie did not notice.

“It was a long time ago, Ritchie, and I was foolish enough to think we had a chance.”

“No, I was foolish enough to immediately assume we wouldn’t,” Ritchie corrected her, “And you brought company to listen in, somebody who is either really hungry or really likes bread, probably under a special cloak of some kind or a concealment charm. You should introduce us.”

Harry could not follow that conversation though it implied that they at least dated and that Ritchie broke it off. That explained the more personal greeting they had. But that couldn’t be true because she was seeing Ron that time, and he could not believe she would cheat on Ron. Or maybe she did. After all, didn’t she sleep with him while she was still with Ron?

“Hi, I’m Ron, Ron Weasley. I’m sitting on the ledge under an invisibility cloak just to your left. I’ll shake your hand some other time.”

Don’t shake his hand. Was Ron so dense he didn’t get that? Why wasn’t he angry?

“Ritchie Tilly, a pleasure to finally meet you Ron. Jane has told me so much about you.”

And Hermione told Ritchie about Ron. It was annoying how he kept calling Hermione, ‘Jane’. What was that about?

“You’re right of course, we’re here to talk to you about the murders you are investigating,” Hermione finally said.

“No, not tonight, especially not over dinner. I find murder a topic that kills appetite and I’m famished. But please do stay and have dinner with me. We can regroup about the case tomorrow morning at 8, Ron will bring breakfast, at your place?” he asked Hermione.

“Okay, tomorrow morning at eight then,” was Hermione’s response, “And I guess I at least owe you to stay for dinner.”

“What are you having, my friend,” he said referring to Ron, and when he answered it was settled.

Harry watched as they dined. The waiter did not show surprise that Ritchie had ordered for three and Hermione slipped Ron’s steak under the cloak when no one was watching.

They talked about growing up and about having dentists as parents, reminiscing as much for Ron’s sake as theirs.

“Jane, did you tell Ron the story of how we first met, do you remember?” Ritchie was already laughing even before starting the story.

“Please, don’t, it’s too embarrassing…” Harry saw her smile genuinely for the first time in two years.

“No, she skipped that part,” Ron teased, “Please do tell.”

“Ron, you have to watch her when I tell this because it’s precious.”

Harry could notice cheerfulness permeate through her brown eyes. Even for a moment, Ritchie had managed to take her to a better place compared to where she was just earlier. And he could see that Ron was seeing all this through the cloak and he was happy for her too.

“It was my ninth birthday, and being their lone spoiled brat, my parents threw a huge bash, inviting all the kids in a three block radius. The theme was magic, and my parents brought in the best magicians money could buy.”

“I really didn’t know half of the kids but there was this bushy haired six year old girl going on twenty, only child of prominent dentists and precocious for her age, who stood out in the crowd that day. During the penultimate magic show, the magician, what was his name, Jane?”

“Merlin,” Hermione was already trying to suppress laughing.

“Of course, why wouldn’t it be! Merlin asked for a volunteer and of all the dozens of kids with their hands high up in the air, picked Jane. The magic to be performed was simple enough, tap the hat with the magic wand, say the magic word, and a bunny would come out.”

“So Jane comes on stage, rolls up her sleeves and does as she is told. She tapped the hat, said the magic word and a bunny came out of the hat. There was wild applause. Merlin was about to move on to his next trick, when to his surprise, another bunny hopped out of the hat, then another, then another…”

They were all laughing at this point, including Harry. Hermione never told them this story.

“Anyways, Merlin fainted after the 10th one came out. My parents had to call the medics in. Fire, Animal Control came. Chaos! Each kid got a bunny in the loot bag, and it took weeks for the house to be rid of all the rabbits! I don’t think any kid that was invited to that party ever had magic as a birthday theme ever again!”

“I scarred a few kids, and Merlin, for life.”

And Ritchie was right. Hermione’s reaction at what she had done as a six-year old was indeed a priceless sight.

“So that was my first memory of Jane; Jane the Magician surrounded by hundreds of rabbits. Our parents became close friends, so growing up we saw a lot of each other during family parties,” and Harry could not help but notice how Ritchie’s eyes held Hermione’s ever so tenderly.

“You should add too, that you and your friends, really didn’t talk to me.”

“In our defense, we were older, and our interests were so different from yours.”

“Admit it, you found me too weird.”

“And too bossy, actually. Isn’t that right, Ron?”

“I prefer not to answer that question for fear of an untimely death,” Ron said truthfully.

“Sage response, my friend.”

Ron was too stuffed to have desert but Ritchie ordered two coffees, looking over to Hermione for confirmation. Harry felt warm in the face and a stabbing pain in the chest each time they looked at each other.

Harry could see it in his eyes. He could see it in her eyes; that same look she had for Viktor Krum and then for Ron. And she seemed to be thinking about what to do with it. Harry could see why Hermione would find Ritchie attractive. He was not only good looking. He was funny and an intellectual. He obviously cared for her just from how he talked about her and how he talked to her.

“So, Ron, if you don’t mind my selfishness,” Ritchie said after the table was cleared and the bill was paid, “I would like to spend more time alone with my childhood friend before she disappears again for another four years without returning any of my calls,” Ritchie’s gentle eyes captured Hermione’s while he said this and escorted her out of the restaurant without awaiting Ron’s answer.

Then the memory ended. Harry wondered why Ron thought that memory was important to share with him save from the fact that it reminded Harry what a stupid git he was for leaving. It had nothing to do with the Cardinal.

Bad tempered from the events in the third phial, he removed the previous memory from the Pensieve, poured the contents of the fourth one and dove in after it.

Ron was looking at his watch; it was 8:12 am and he was knocking impatiently at Hermione’s door with breakfast in his hand. Harry was guessing it was the day after the dinner with Ritchie.

There was the sound of locks unlocking and both he and Harry were surprised to see Ritchie open the door to let them in. He was still in the clothes he wore the night before, except for an unbuttoned collar and a missing tie. It was hard not to come to the conclusion Harry and he suspected, Ron, had arrived at. Ritchie spent the night at Hermione's.

A/N. Ouch.

Disclaimer: Not mine but JK Rowling's.

A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed. If you’ve enjoyed the story, let me know.

Chapter 14. The Muggle Experiments

“Nice to finally shake your hand, Ron. Jane’s in the shower,” Ritchie told Ron as they shook hands. Then, flipping his phone open, said, “I’ll be back shortly; I just have to return a few phone calls.”

Ritchie went into the study just as Hermione walked into the kitchen. Ron set breakfast on her counter.

“Good morning,” she said to Ron as she took one of the two prepared cups of coffee beside the percolator.

She sat next to Ron and grabbed one of Mrs. Weasley’s famous pastries. Harry sat in front of her across the counter. She looked beautiful.

“How did the rest of your evening go?” Ron asked, looking at her.

Hermione’s expression was unreadable as she sipped her coffee, “It was good, and yours?”

“Fantastic,” Ron was exaggerating of course, “So, he spent the night?”

Hermione turned slightly towards Ron and watched him for a while.

“He did,” and she continued to look at him, as if trying to gauge how Ron was going to react.

Harry felt like he was dying; like somebody punched him hard in the chest. His heart was now aching constantly and while he wanted to move away and not hear the rest of this particular conversation, he owed it to Ron to listen in. Ron wanted him to know this for a reason. It surprised Harry that Ron was not livid; he was more concerned.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded. Harry wasn’t.

“Did you...” Ron seemed to have difficulty asking the hard question. Hermione spared him the trouble but Harry knew the answer before it escaped from her lips.

“Yes.”

“And?”

“It was a relief to be able to feel that way again. I never thought I could, anymore,” she answered quietly, a bittersweet expression on her face, then she hesitated. “It’s just… never mind.”

Ron pressed her, “No, tell me, what is it?”

“It’s stupid really,” she started, looking over to Ritchie to make sure he was still on the phone. “I know I shouldn’t, but I feel as if I betrayed Harry.”

Ron was unusually sombre, trying to put things in perspective.

“We haven’t seen or heard from him in two years. We don’t even know if he’s still alive. You shouldn’t feel that way. You deserve to be happy.”

She sighed, “That’s why I said it was stupid.”

Harry brushed off a few tears on his face. Ron was right. She had no idea how he felt. She had nothing to hang on to. And if he had not had that dream she could have waited, possibly forever, for nobody. Harry never imagined she would go through this hardship thinking Ron would always be there for her to fill that need. He never thought they would break-up. He never thought Hermione would end up with someone else.

“Is it going to be serious?” Ron asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t think he knows either. We have no expectations, no demands and we’ll just see how it goes.”

“Just don’t fall too hard this time, okay?” he suggested as he put an arm around her shoulder and kissed her forehead.

“Don’t worry, I have learned my lesson,” she planted a peck on his cheek. “Thanks, for looking out for me.”

Then Ron just realized something; “You mean to say that last night you slept with someone with no demands and no expectations whatsoever? Well, you should have said you wanted that, I could have done that with you, no problem!”

Hermione laughed at Ron’s suggestion, “But you’re my best friend, I swore I would never do that again.”

“It’s a cursed title for sure. You should warn him that if he breaks your heart I’ll hex him until he dies a miserable death,” Ron said and he was serious.

Hermione was still laughing when Ritchie walked in.

“Okay, I’m ready for your questions,” Ritchie said as he took the other coffee cup and sat across the counter from Ron, briefly meeting Hermione’s gaze and acknowledging with a knowing smile.

Harry wished he would not notice such little nuances because they were all painful reminders of his mistake. He only had himself to blame. And though Ritchie seemed to be a decent guy, for now, Harry had an utmost dislike for him and it was all personal.

“Is there anything that’s unusual about this case?” Hermione asked.

“Well, it baffles me that no one has come forward to claim responsibility,” Ritchie replied. “And one other thing which I would like you to keep to yourselves for now,” he paused allowing for Ron to affirm and Hermione to nod, “Two of the victims were already dead when they were stabbed in the heart and they had the most curious expressions on their faces.”

Ron answered, “One of intense rage and the other of unnatural bliss.”

They had Ritchie’s undivided attention.

Hermione took out the list of Muggle victims she had copied on a piece of parchment. On it two of the ten names were checked. She handed it to Ritchie.

“Yes, these are the two. What can you tell me?”

“Not much I’m afraid,” Hermione answered. “I received two notes, each shortly after the murders of these two victims, from someone going by the name of the ‘Cardinal’. Ron works with our Ministry’s Law Enforcement and they are not aware of this. As far as the Ministry of Magic is concerned, these are not murders by magic and they will not intervene.”

“Do you need proof from me to get them to investigate?”

Ron replied, “Yes, and no. If we can prove that at least those two murders you have were by magic, we can investigate. But, a full-blown investigation at this point would create more problems for us in our world.”

“What do you mean?” Ritchie asked Hermione.

“If we are to believe the Cardinal, he or she is using a set of very rare curses. We don’t really know how to stop these curses, and if word gets out that the Cardinal is using them, we may have more Cardinals coming out of the woodworks, not to mention a very terrified public.”

“Why are the notes being sent to you?”

“I do research for the Ministry and I designed the curses in the process of designing counter-curses. The Cardinal got a hold of my report and applied the theory that I submitted into practical use. The murders you have in your hands are trials; experiments. So far, a 20 percent success rate and it will only get worse as the Cardinal figures out how to make them work. This character is crazy; either thinks that I would be happy to know that the curses I designed work, or wants to be challenged.”

At this point she took out a list of witches and wizards.

“Suspects?” Ritchie looked it over.

“Hermione and I cannot do the curses, that’s why her report was just a theory on submission. The reason why the curses are so rare is because only certain witches and wizards can perform the curses. An act of self sacrifice enables their ability,” Ron said, “There may be others who should be on that list but are not. But the list is a start.”

Harry quickly looked over the list with Ritchie; it contained names of wizards and witches and how Hermione thought they were enabled. Harry browsed quickly. There were a lot of familiar names on it, from the war with Voldemort. The fifty or so names were divided into Probable, Highly Probable, and Definitely Enabled. At the very bottom of the list there was only one name under the last category.

Definitely Enabled - Harry Potter

Ritchie read it too, “The Boy Who Lived?”

“The Chosen One, the Saviour,” Ron added. “How do you know about him?”

He looked over to Hermione with an embarrassed expression, “I have a confession. I went over to your parents’ house four years ago and borrowed a few reference books to learn about magic. I think I read about him in Modern Magical History.”

That certainly came in handy. An obvious attempt to impress her and Ron, Harry thought, and he succeeded, at Harry’s expense.

“Blimey, you read Modern Magical History?!” Ron exclaimed.

“All 197 chapters,” and he had a laugh with Hermione seeing Ron’s shocked expression, “But you read that too at Hogwarts, right?”

“Yeah, but only because it was required reading!”

“I apologize if you think that’s obscene. So do we start with Harry Potter?” Ritchie asked Hermione, who momentarily froze.

Ron covered for her, “That would be difficult. He disappeared two years ago; nobody has seen him since. And, he’s definitely not the Cardinal. A few years back there was a wizard war. Harry almost died saving our world from this evil wizard Vo…Voldemort, hence his other title, the Saviour. He would be the last person on earth to do something like this.”

“You guys knew him well,” Ritchie guessed right and he was observing Hermione with keen interest.

Ron answered, “We were best friends in Hogwarts. Hermione and I helped him get rid of Vo…Voldemort. I guess you read an older version of Modern Magical History.”

“I guess I did,” Ritchie said quietly with a perplexed look on his face. “So if it’s definitely not him then who should we start with?”

“There’s Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape,” Ron said. “They are at the top of my personal list.”

“We can start with them but my gut says neither is the Cardinal. The notes just don’t sound like them. You don’t mind if we look at your evidence, do you? We might see something that makes more sense to us,” Hermione asked.

“Drop by this afternoon around three,” Ritchie offered.

“There’s one other thing, Ritchie,” Hermione said, then looking at Ron so he would not disagree, added, “And you can refuse if you want.”

“What is it?”

“As you may or may not know wizards and witches have a way of getting information from others that they may not necessarily be willing to part with.”

“I read about a truth serum.”

“There’s also mind reading,” Ron added. “We think it’s best if you are not able to discuss this with any other wizard or witch in our absence. There is a law that makes it illegal to expose our world to your world so we’d like to prevent you from sharing what you know about Lumos and us to non-magical folk. And we also want to protect you from being Obliviated.”

“Having your memory erased,” Hermione clarified as Ron lost Ritchie.

Harry thought erasing Ritchie’s memory right about then was such a good idea. Too bad Hermione didn’t think Ritchie was lilac potion-worthy.

“Sounds unpleasant. And you both feel strongly about this?”

Hermione and Ron nodded.

Ritchie looked from Ron to Hermione.

Then he smiled at her, “No offence, but all this talk about some Cardinal using dark magic is freaking me out much less compared to the time you told me you were a witch.”

Hermione smiled back, “None taken. It’s quite understandable. Men are typically more willing to go to war than commit to a relationship.”

He chuckled, “That’s probably because death in war comes swift. But the older we get, the more we realize commitments are much more rewarding.”

Ritchie paused, maintaining eye contact with Hermione as he contemplated to accept or not. Harry could tell that despite what Hermione said, Ritchie was quite clear about where he wanted their relationship to go.

“Okay, let’s do it then.”

Ron performed a spell to protect him from Obliviation. The image of Ritchie signing a magical contract blurred and Harry was back in his study.

Harry was emotionally black and blue. He looked at the last paragraph of Ron’s letter. If you still love her, fight for her. He now understood why Ron wanted him to see those memories of Hermione’s and Ritchie’s relationship. Harry was almost sure that at the time Ron wrote the letter, Hermione’s involvement with Ritchie had become more serious. Ron didn’t want Harry messing it up unless he felt strongly enough that he could do a better job loving her.

At this point, Harry had to do a better job of finding her. He had to find out if she and Ron had solved the problem of the counter curses. And the list, he needed that list. Maybe Hermione would have one in her apartment.

He looked at the time-teller. It was only 5pm. He organized his thoughts on what he needed to do.

Harry was pressed to see the two remaining memories so he could talk to Remus, Tonks and Kingsley about the case. He would drop by Hermione’s apartment later tonight to look for the list and then, tomorrow, he would go to the Yard to see the boyfriend. Any decent boyfriend would know where his fugitive girlfriend was.

Disclaimer : As we all know, Harry Potter is JK Rowling's. Not mine.

Chapter 15 – A Cardinal In Need of Assistance

There were two remaining phials that Harry still had not seen.

The 5th memory was dated about a month ago. Harry found himself in an office very much like Hermione’s on the 9th Level of the Ministry. Ron was seated just next to the door under his invisibility cloak and Hermione was pacing with a most furious expression on her face.

Ron whispered, “Will you calm down, you’re making me dizzy!”

Hermione tried to keep her voice low, “If I could I would curse him! What was he thinking?!”

Harry looked around and realized who she was referring to. On the wall were pictures of a thin balding wizard shaking the hands of the current and three former Ministers for Magic. He recognized Hermione’s former supervisor; they were in Alfred Lowes’ office.

“If you don’t calm down you’re going to pop a vessel. Listen. Remember that he knows who the Cardinal is. We need his help,” Ron tried to reason with her.

“I think he has helped enough!”

“Keep your voice down.”

“He better turn this person in or I swear, I’ll strangle him with my bare hands!”

“I’m concerned about Kingsley. It’s been a week since we talked with him about this and he still has not done anything. Tonks won’t discuss it any further either, saying it’s a Muggle issue,” Ron was visibly worried, “Should we tell the rest of the Order?”

“I’ve been thinking about that too. It’s only a matter of time before this asshole becomes confident using them against Muggles, the prey will be much more enticing on this side of the world. But since Professor Dumbledore died, there has been no one who has been able to make everybody in the Order work together. Case in point, the fallout from last year’s Death Eater Sweep up north resulted in so many factions within the Order, it has become more political than what Professor Dumbledore intended it to be.”

“Hermione, we need to let somebody else know.”

“I know, we’ll talk about it after I deal with this lowlife. What was he thinking?” she repeated.

Harry was now very worried; he could not believe that Kingsley and Tonks knew about the Cardinal. They helped him help Hermione escape. This just did not make sense.

Then the door to the office opened and in came Lowes. Harry noticed that he quickly went behind his desk maybe to put some distance and furniture between him and Hermione.

“Miss Granger, how are you on this lovely…” Lowes asked nervously.

“Can it Lowes! Explain this!”

Hermione took a familiar parchment and slammed it on Lowes desk. Lowes did not take it but quickly scanned it from afar. Harry leaned over and read what the note said.

Miss Granger,

I need your help. The last three curses have been particularly difficult and I was hoping you could teach me how to do them. I understand from Mr. Lowes that the Projects have been terminated and that he can no longer assist in my education. It would be an honour to learn them directly from the creator herself. I will find us a suitable test subject and I will be in touch.

The Cardinal

“Demented!” Lowes exclaimed.

“You think?” Hermione was so furious her face was almost unrecognizable, “And you, you’re just stupid! What were you thinking?”

Lowes tried to explain, “I wanted to know if the curses worked!”

“Your curiosity has definitely killed much more than the cat! How did you get a hold of Lumos? Only Dorner was supposed to have access to it!”

“Dorner told me,” Harry thought Hermione was going to make Lowes cry, “I was having trouble with Project C7, you know, the actual curses and he said Lumos might give me ideas.”

Harry was as furious at Lowes as Hermione. Lowes obviously took Hermione’s ideas again and made them his own. Not only that, he was careless with it.

“Well, guess what Lowes. Dorner is hanging us out to dry.”

“Do you think I don’t know that? I didn’t know about the Muggles until Dorner shut us down last month. I suggested informing the Minister but he hasn’t and the Muggle killings continued. The Minister has refused to even see me and I know for a fact he destroyed both our reports.”

“You should do the decent thing!”

“I can’t turn this Cardinal in,” Lowes said quietly, “I made an unbreakable vow.”

“Break it, then! And your death will be such a small price to pay for being such a moron!”

“I was thinking, why don’t you find someone you can train to use the curses against the Cardinal?” Lowes proposed.

Hermione growled at him even more, “You just don’t get it, do you? You’re willing to risk creating another monster? Just stop thinking and start talking! If you don’t want to die then figure out how to rat on the Cardinal without breaking your stupid vow!”

Then Harry was pulled off from the scene. That explained why Gomez couldn’t find anything about Lumos; Dorner made sure the reports were destroyed. Harry was also convinced that the Cardinal had a lot of loose head screws thinking Hermione would actually help in training a murderer. There was the Lowes connection; surely it would be easy enough to find out who he was working with the most during the few months before he vanished. Harry was almost sure that this was the argument witnesses said happened a few days before Lowes' diasppearance. And now, he had to sort out why Tonks, Kingsley and Scrimgeour were acting as if they never knew the Cardinal existed.

Harry took the final phial and looked at it, hoping that it would answer more questions. It was dated two weeks ago; Ron’s last preserved memory. Before going into it, he recalled all the memories that Ron wanted him to witness. From hearing about Lumos for first time, to Hermione showing him the notes, to their dinner with Ritchie and the morning after, and then Lowes’ involvement. It was odd to see just Ron and Hermione without him in Ron’s memories when so many of his had both of them by his side.

When he fell into the pensieve, Harry found himself in the back seat of a Muggle car; a fast moving, swerving with sirens blazing, unmarked police car. Ritchie was driving and Ron was on the passenger seat holding on for dear life. It was late in the night and worse, the streets were still packed with vehicles.

“What happened?” Ron asked, keeping a wary eye on the path they were taking.

“She was closing the bookstore when she got an envelope. An amulet fell out and when she touched it, it transported her to a warehouse.”

“Great!” Ron exclaimed, “The Cardinal can make portkeys. How did you find out where?”

“Jane’s description, and she found an old sign board with a partial address. I know the place, abandoned warehouses down by the river; the question is which one,” Ritchie suddenly stepped on his breaks and swerved right to avoid some pedestrians.

A rhythmic Muggle dance tune was playing over and over again, barely audible.

“Ron, your phone!” Ritchie pointed out.

Ron fumbled through his pockets and awkwardly tried to find the button to answer the call, swearing loudly as he did.

“Give it to me,” Ron handed it over to Ritchie who put Hermione on speakerphone, “Jane?”

Harry heard Hermione whispering on the line, “Is Ron with you?”

“I’m here,’ Ron replied.

“I’m going in,” she said quietly.

“No, we’re only two minutes away. Stay put!” Ritchie replied with urgency.

“I can hear them in there, I have to. Come as soon as you can.”

“Jane! Wait…”

And the line went dead.

“Ugh!” Ritchie was irritated, “Does she ever listen?”

Ron answered, “Oh, she listens; she just prefers doing it her way.”

Harry was as frustrated as the two other men seated in front of him. She could be stubborn without even trying. She had just gone off to face the Cardinal by herself.

They were now away from the city and were approaching the complex of abandoned warehouses. Ritchie turned his lights and sirens off.

“I asked her to move in with me,” Ritchie said to Ron.

Harry groaned. Not another one of those gut-wrenching, reminding-you-how-stupid-you are memories.

‘I get it already, they’re together and they’re happy,’ he said to Ron. He was starting to feel Ron wanted him to suffer. Ron knew how he felt about her.

“I’m good; you don’t need to ask my…”

Ritchie interrupted, “She said ‘no’.”

Finally, a break! Harry was suddenly grinning up to his ears!

Ron was trying to make Ritchie feel better, “She might be feeling a bit rushed.”

“We argued.”

“That’s normal.”

“Our first big fight.”

“After almost two months of going out with her? You must be a saint.”

“About Harry. I asked her if it was ‘no’ because of Harry. And she just went ballistic!”

Harry was feeling kind of pleased with himself at the moment.

Ron rolled his eyes up and said dryly, “You brought him up.”

Ritchie said defiantly, “Yes, I did. I brought up He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named-Ever in a conversation.”

Harry thought that was a cool title.

“I guess somebody woke up with a death wish today. Should I say ‘I told you so’?”

Ritchie thought out loud, “I wish she could be more open.”

“She’s an Unspeakable. That’s about as open as she can get. Count your blessings!”

“You know how she doesn’t ever talk about him?”

“She makes that obvious for a reason,” Ron said plainly.

“I don’t really want to talk about him; I just want to know why she doesn’t ever talk about him, for now anyways. Why is that?” Ritchie was venting.

Harry looked at Ron, ‘Yeah, why is that?’ He was hoping it would explain her interesting treatment of him lately.

Ron put forth a logical theory, sarcastically, “Because she doesn’t want to talk about him,” emphasizing ‘want’.

Ritchie insisted, “But why wouldn’t she want to talk about her best friend who she helped defeat Voldemort and who saved her life maybe a dozen times? Was he more than a friend to her and he left because of it?”

Ron did not answer.

“I asked her if they were ever intimate, you know, like you and her once were.”

Ron said knowingly, “She said ‘no’, didn’t she.”

“She’s telling the truth then,” Ritchie wanted confirmation.

No, she isn’t. Harry frowned. He didn’t think it was possible for them to get any more intimate than they were that one night.

“That depends on the exact question you asked her and how she understood it,” Ron was squinting amongst the rows of abandoned warehouses, looking for signs of activity, “Intimate, she would say no, because intimate for her is not the same as intimate for you and me. And her and Harry were definitely not like me and her once were.”

“You mean I asked the wrong question?”

“You just need to ask a different question. I think I see green flashing light over there,” Ron pointed to the dilapidated warehouse that barely stood farthest to his right. Ritchie slowly approached it and talked softly.

“Are you saying that they did sleep together?”

‘Feeling a bit jealous, are we? Yes, we did, and it’s just a shame I can’t tell you right now.’ Then Harry chastised himself for talking to a memory. He was glad this was the last one. He was starting to feel like he met this Ritchie already. And Harry was cross that Ron was actively helping Ritchie sort Hermione out.

“I’m not saying anything,” Ron answered as quietly, “I’m just saying ask her what you really want to know and make it so clear she can’t fib her way around it, if she even considers to answer.”

“You mean ask her if they ever had sex?”

That didn’t sound right to Harry. It wasn’t just sex. It was demeaning to sum up what they had with just sex. Was that what Hermione told Ron they had? The glee in his heart went away very quickly.

“Close enough,” Ron countered, “But first, we have to save your girlfriend from getting herself killed so you can at least get a chance to ask that question. I can’t believe she can’t wait two minutes. What does she think she’ll do when the Cardinal starts cursing her?”

The car came to a halt in the dirt road just in front of what looked like an abandoned lumber warehouse. They alighted the car and both gentlemen drew their weapons out. Ritchie motioned Ron to go around the back. Harry had to follow Ron and as they turned the corner saw Ritchie disappear into the building.

The back of the building was all boarded up and save for a few gaps in the board, there was no way they could get in without breaking in.

A diabolic laugh filtered through the gaps in the board. The Cardinal. It was a man’s voice and Harry thought the voice was familiar.

Ron heard it too and magically loosened a few boards using his wand. He was careful not to make a noise so he would maintain an element of surprise. They still could not see but they could hear what was going on inside.

“Help me perfect this and we can be famous together,” it was that voice again.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” Hermione’s voice was calm, “It’s nothing personal, but I don’t work with murderers.”

“Please, oblige me and collaborate. I have admired you and your work for so long. I am your number one fan you know.”

“Well, you won’t need my autograph considering how you write just like me,” Hermione replied.

Ron was trying to loosen up more boards as fast as he could. Hurry up.

“I am so disappointed in you,” the voice was full of displeasure, “I’m giving you one last chance. Join me or die!”

“That’s not even a real choice; I’d rather die, of course. And I am more disappointed in you. If you were a true fan you would know I would never use the curses to kill innocent and defenceless Muggles. And such lack of originality! My curses, my handwriting. You are a nobody! Nobody even knows you did all of this!”

The laughter progressed to maniacal. Harry had heard that laugh before.

“You arrogant, conceited bitch! You don’t know it all! You can’t even do the curses. I was offering you what I thought was a generous gift. My services to show the world that you are indeed the brightest witch of our generation, finally solving the mystery of the cardinal curses! But your ego is too big to allow collaboration! And to think I wasted all this time admiring you and your work! You will regret this!”

A gunshot rang out from within and Harry knew curses were thrown around.

Hermione screamed, “Ritchie!”

Ron finally used his wand to blast through. Harry could see the Cardinal, standing at a clearing about fifty feet from where Ron was. The Cardinal turned towards them and a red jet of light emanated from his wand. Ron took cover behind a large block of wood as fragments flew in the air. The Cardinal had a black cloak on and a hood over his head. He had no face; in its stead was just darkness.

“Ritchie!” Hermione called out again with urgency, looking at Ritchie’s immobile figure a few feet from where she was. She was physically bound with ropes to one of the load bearing supports. A lifeless woman lay on the ground beside the Cardinal, and beside her was a wand.

Ron sent several stunners his way and they just bounced off him like a flock of birds crashing into an unbreakable window. “Blimey,” Ron muttered under his breath. The Cardinal was laughing even harder.

“It’s nice of you to join us Mr. Weasley.”

“My pleasure!” Ron called out as he magically untied Hermione. Harry saw her go to Ritchie’s aid.

There was a light grey sphere of mist surrounding the Cardinal as he said, “Don’t worry Miss Granger, it was only a stunner. Mr. Weasley, why don’t you join us out here? I promise I won’t cast another curse.”

“Don’t do it, Ron!” Hermione yelled out.

“I could come and get you, you know,” then he had a sudden wave of inspiration, “But I have a better idea. I’ll curse Miss Granger if you don’t come out.”

Ron had to. He walked over to where Hermione was, and let go of his wand as their adversary motioned him to do. Harry followed him to the clearing where they were now up close and personal with the Cardinal. The grey field around him dissipated.

“Well, this is certainly a sight,” the Cardinal said mockingly, “Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger and a Harry Potter substitute. Poor thing, we should just leave him stunned for now.”

Hermione stood up, shook off Ron’s attempt to stop her and walked as close to the Cardinal as she could, “Let them go. It’s me that you want.”

He just laughed at her, “You challenge me, Miss Granger. I am a nobody with no originality? I do want to let you know that I remain anonymous because I chose to be, at least for now.”

Hermione was unfazed, “Let’s be honest. You want to remain anonymous because you don’t want the Ministry to come after you. What’s the matter? Don’t think you’re good enough to evade capture?”

The Cardinal ignored her last comment, “You, on the other hand, have been trying to tell the Ministry about me. But no one seems to want to listen. I guess your assistance in saving the world from Voldemort was not quite good enough for everyone to just believe you.”

Ron muttered, “That’s why no one wants to talk.”

“So you have the Ministry covered. Dorner, Kingsley, Tonks, other aurors, maybe even Scrimgeour. It seems like we are in a stalemate. What do you want? Obviously, not to kill us.”

“No, today you all get to live.”

“That’s very generous of you.”

“I had hoped to be able to work with you, but because you said you’d rather die than join me, I will grant you your wish. You will die, but not before you see me perfect your curses and unleash them into the wizarding world. The best part is you will get credit for all of this and you will be written about for centuries as one of the few to have conjured it.”

“Gee, thanks. Being thought of as a murderous lunatic will certainly temper some of the nicer stuff that has been written about me,” she said poker-faced, “But what’s in it for you?”

“We get to play a game called guess who I’m going to kill next, and then I get to destroy your life. And as you rot in Azkaban dying a slow death, thinking about your life’s contribution to magic, I will be out here knowing for a fact that you were not so bright after all,” the Cardinal laughed again and disapparated.

“That hurt,” Ritchie said after Ron enervated him, “What was that?”

“A stunner. Are you okay?” Hermione had a most worried look for Ritchie on her face it hurt Harry to watch. He turned to Ron who had picked up Hermione’s wand and was looking over the woman on the ground.

“I’ll be fine. And the victim?”

Ron shook his head.

“She died just before you came,” Hermione said quietly.

“What did I miss?”

Ron replied, “We got to know the Cardinal a bit better; former number one fan who now just hates her. Good job pissing him off.”

And a Ron-Hermione argument, something about her not willing to wait, faded as Harry was sent back to his study.

On that last Cardinal laugh, Harry finally recognized the voice, but it couldn’t be. It just was not possible, but quite understandable why Ron or Hermione wouldn’t have noticed. They did not have the unfortunate experience of having to meet him many times. The Cardinal’s laugh sounded very much like Voldemort’s.

xxxxxxxxxx

Draco Malfoy felt he was being watched. He was at home and having just met Hermione Granger, his nerves were a bit frazzled. Maybe that was it. The visit was just making him anxious. She had a most bizarre request.

He would be the last person in the world to admit it, but he did believe Granger was innocent. Had there not been too much negative history between him and her friends during Hogwarts, he would have been more inclined to help her when the Ministry had her in St. Mungo’s. She sent him a secrecy note to meet with her that afternoon, saying that she trusted him to not let the Ministry know. Not many people trusted him nowadays and he appreciated it that she did. He did not let her down.

Malfoy guessed right that she wanted to meet because of the murders. When he heard the story he immediately accepted her proposal to learn the curses and help her fine-tune the counters. He was willing to make the vow she required. He needed something like this, not only because he wanted to help put an end to this Cardinal, but also to restore some credibility to his name. They would start tomorrow. He did wonder why Granger did not ask Potter; but Potter’s loss was his gain.

He was excited; he listened to Granger’s cardinal curse theory and the principles of the counters. Granger felt his occlumency skills would help protect him; they would have to wait and see if that was true.

Knocks at the door interrupted Malfoy’s revelry. He wondered who it could be. Surveying his porch he decided he would entertain this guest.

“What do you want?” he spat at his visitor as he opened the door, “Is there a Hogwarts reunion today that I’m not aware of?”

Then everything around him turned black.

Disclaimer : Harry Potter and his world belong to JK Rowling.

Author's warning: The Chapter contains sexually explicit language. It may not be appropriate for all readers.

Chapter 16. A Few Curses Between Old Friends

The information from the last two phials made it necessary for Harry to find Hermione first before sharing Ron’s memories with anyone. It was obvious that the Cardinal was either a Ministry official or someone with very close ties to the Ministry so he had to be extra careful whom to trust.

Harry decided to check out Hermione’s apartment first for a copy of the list of suspects. He was guessing she was trying to find the Cardinal and chances were she was going through her list.

There used to be two sentries from the Magical Law Enforcement Squad assigned to guard her apartment. There was protest amongst the guards as Hermione’s alleged skill at sending law enforcement officials into St. Mungo’s became widespread. If it took seven Aurors to subdue her the last time and if she made mincemeat of ten Aurors during her escape, not enough galleons in the world could make two lowly sentries agree to keep her away from her apartment.

He talked to the building ambassador and he let him in. The apartment was a mess, likely a result of the battle with the Aurors. He went into her office knowing that was where she spent most of her time and on one of the few intact bookshelves he noticed a framed picture flopped on its face. As he picked it up, he recognized the same picture he had in New York. The only difference was he wasn’t in it and Hermione had her back turned, Ron was trying to comfort her.

The room was now dark except for a computer monitor flickering in the far corner of the room and the light coming in from the balcony. Hermione’s oak writing desk just beside it seemed like the most logical place to start looking. But before he could open any drawer, a sudden flash of red light caught the corner of his eye and reflex made him dive behind the desk. A curse flew just barely over his head and smashed the shelves behind him, books cascading onto him as he crawled away to safety. He had his wand drawn out in an instant.

“I thought I was clear when I asked you to leave!” A female voice sprang off from a distance.

It was Hermione.

“Oh, hi. I’m so glad you’re here. I was actually just about to look for you,” he said as cheerfully as he could, still crouched under the table and tried to inch his way to the edge to get a glimpse of where she was.

“Crash!”

A vase near his head broke as another curse from Hermione narrowly missed him. The tiny pieces looked familiar. Great! That was his housewarming gift.

“We need to talk about this! Can you stop hexing me long enough for us to have a civilized conversation?” He wondered when her newfound sport for throwing jinxes at him would end.

“There is nothing to talk about,” she replied.

Books from the opposite shelves started flying across the room and dropping on Harry. ‘She loves books; she must really hate me’, he thought. He contemplated allowing her to hit him with a curse. He was starting to feel like a coward hiding behind the desk. This was Hermione; what could she possibly do to him?

“Look, I can understand why you would be angry at me.”

“Who said I was angry?”

With a spell she made all four legs of the table disappear, almost crushing Harry’s fingers in the process. If she wasn't angry, then she was going mad. This was getting to be irritating.

“If the plan is to curse me until I leave, I’m telling you now it won’t work,” Harry threw his wand out towards the direction of her voice, “There’s my wand. I’m coming out, then I’m going to walk over to where you are and we’re going to have a conversation.”

“Don’t come near me!”

Harry ignored what she said and stood up. A red beam of light sprayed from Hermione's wand heading in his general direction. Harry closed his eyes expecting to feel the worst any second. It hit the desk and smashed a portion of it, sending splinters everywhere. Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

There she was, just inside the door to her office, her wand pointed directly at him like the last time they were face to face. Despite the current animosity she was expressing towards him, Harry felt the familiar ache in his chest. He had to make this right, he thought as he began to approach her.

“Don’t make me hurt you!” She started taking a few steps back to put more distance between her and Harry.

“If it will make you feel better, go ahead,” he said quietly, and he meant it. He continued walking towards her.

After a few steps, the wall behind Hermione prevented her from moving back any further. Harry closed the gap and finally found himself right in front of her. He took her shaking wand wielding hand and coaxed it with some difficulty to point to the ground.

“Let go!” she said, defiant.

“No,” he said firmly, “Talk to me.”

“There's nothing to talk about!" Hermione struggled to extricate her hand and wand from Harry's firm grip without much success.

"Ask me why I left!"

"I know why you left! But that doesn't change the fact that you did!"

"Tell me I'm a jerk!"

"Why waste time stating the obvious!”

"Tell me you're angry!"

"I'm not angry!"

"THEN TELL ME ANYTHING! I CAN’T STAND THIS! JUST TALK TO ME!" he was shouting without realizing it.

They stood there, glaring at each other. They fell into an eerie silence and Harry noticed that Hermione’s eyes were brimming with tears. He could tell she was trying to choose what she was going to say and how she was going to say it.

Then finally, as a few tears could no longer be contained, Hermione said in a calculated and deliberate voice, "You think you can pick up where you left off. Time didn’t stand still when you left, Harry! I have just managed to move on and I can’t go through that all over again! It’s a most cruel fate I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy! Why did you have to come back?!"

Harry was taken aback; he did not expect to hear that.

"I…I had a dream, about Ron and about you, I had to..." Harry replied with hesitation, in a calmer tone, trying to explain, though he knew it was a question that needed no answer.

"And you come back, not six months ago when everything was fine, not even two months ago when things were manageable! But you had to come back this week, when all hell is breaking lose! I can't deal with this with you around! I need you to leave!”

Really, how could she think he could?

“I can't leave, not right now!” Harry pleaded for her understanding.

“Why not? You left so easily the last time!”

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I left, I’m sorry I didn’t owl, and I’m sorry I hurt you!”

“You don’t have to apologize! It was just one stupid night a long time ago and I am so over it!”

His green frustrated eyes met her equally upset brown ones. His mind and emotions were going in a rapid downward spiral! She had moved on, he heard her say! She was over their one stupid night! She could be infuriating when she wanted to be! But he had not moved on and he wasn’t over that one night! It can’t be too late to make things right! He felt despair knocking at his door, as he was about to lose the woman he loved all over again! Didn’t desperate times call for desperate measures?

Hermione’s flowery scent quickly flooded Harry’s senses. With nary a thought, he moved forward and pinned her up against the wall; Hermione’s slight body could barely budge against Harry’s muscular frame.

Before Hermione could protest, Harry devoured her mouth, kissing her savagely. He heard her wand drop to the floor beside them. Almost immediately after, he felt her lips and her body give in and she was returning his kisses even more ferociously. His mouth was as insatiable as hers; neither cared that their lips quickly became raw from the rough physical force.

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” she said, breathlessly in between their kisses.

“You shouldn’t kiss me back,” he replied as he felt her feeling him up under his shirt.

“I’m seeing someone,” Hermione confessed, not heeding Harry’s suggestion.

“I don’t care,” Harry answered back, his caresses sent shivers up and down her spine.

“We should stop,” she pleaded, in a desperate small voice that seemed to take a considerable amount of energy for her to say out loud, though the rest of her body betrayed her and was saying otherwise.

Harry heard her and paused. They were feverish, breathless and he could feel her heart beating as fast as his.

He gazed deep into her intoxicated and confused brown eyes and said, “Look at me. Tell me you don’t want this and say it like you mean it. Then we can stop. But if we do this, know that I will never chose to forget it, like I chose not to forget the last time.”

It did not take long for her to decide as he saw her confusion change to annoyed resignation. Leaning in towards him, her lips barely touching his, she asked, “Does that mean that if we do this, you’re not drinking any potion?”

“Not a chance,” he replied, lightly touching her lips with his as he did.

“That’s good to know.”

And she kissed him with a longing and passion that matched how he felt for her. He returned her kiss with equal fervor as his desire for her erupted and could no longer be suppressed. He felt her tongue seek its counterpart, and as they found and caressed each other, it kindled an already unquenchable thirst to do more. In no time at all, their pace became frenzied again. They could not wait and they started making out on the office floor.

Harry just missed her so much. He could sense Hermione’s urgency, too. He felt this crushing need to feel as much of her as he could all at once. He ripped the front of her blouse; buttons flew off in every direction. He freed her breasts from their harness and didn’t even notice his shirt was no longer on him. Harry just lost himself completely to the moment as he felt his bare torso come in contact with her soft hot skin. Hermione’s hands were exploring his body and caressing his manliness that was already aching for the warmth that was inside her.

His lips slid away from hers and ravaged her jaw, her neck, finally settling on her left breast, sucking and teasing her nipple with his tongue. She was arching her back, offering it up to him to do as he pleased. His hands were elsewhere, touching, stroking, fondling, a soft moan confirming when he found a good spot. He would go crazy if he didn’t take her then and there. His fingers expertly loosened the buttons of her jeans and started slipping it down with her underwear. Hermione seemed to have the same idea, and he was sure she had magically unbuttoned his trousers. Her fingers raked through his raven-colored hair as Harry shifted to pull Hermione’s pants down further.

Beep beep…Beep beep…Beep beep…

A soft but fast beeping sound immediately made them both freeze. It was from a small contraption that was flashing red at the very corner of her office. Still flushed and winded, Hermione pushed Harry off to one side and silently summoned her wand. Fixing the damage to her clothes, she went over to her computer desk and tapped the monitor. The beeping sound stopped. Harry dressed and followed her to see what she was up to. The monitor showed the lobby of her apartment. The building ambassador was talking with Hector Aimes and about six other Aurors.

“Aimes,” Hermione knew him, “Your shadow found you.”

With a wave of her wand, a backpack let itself out of the closet and a few personal items started going into it. Harry thought it would have been nice had they come just ten minutes later; he actually would have been happy with five.

“We really need to talk, Hermione,” he said as she packed and he retrieved his wand.

She took the laptop that was in a hidden compartment in her desk, shoved it into her pack and swung this over her shoulder.

“I’m kind of busy at the moment, you know, trying to avoid Azkaban. I’ll take a rain check.”

“I know about the Cardinal, about Lowes, about the curses! Let me help you!”

“No, but thanks for offering.”

“There’s been another murder. The Cardinal is framing you as he said he would!” Harry said as she pried a loose board underneath her couch and pulled out what looked like parchments. Harry guessed they were the notes from the Cardinal.

“It doesn’t concern you!”

“My name was written in blood on the victim; it definitely concerns me.”

Hermione paused, a worried look on her face, “The victim, was it a Muggle?”

“No, a wizard. He said there’s three down and that there’s three to go before me.”

“Lyle?” she had this look that she knew the answer already.

“So you did know him,” he noted how she referred to the victim by his first name.

“Unfortunately for him, he knew me.”

“We have to find the Cardinal,” Harry pointed out.

“There is no ‘we’ because you’re not staying,” she said as she walked past him, closing the blinds to the balcony. Now the apartment was pitch black.

Almost simultaneously they lit their wands, and it illuminated their faces.

“Well, I’m not leaving either, so one of us is going to be wrong about that.”

“It’s me he wants. Ron almost got killed and now the Cardinal wants to kill you, Harry,” her eyes and her voice were trying to reason with him, “You don’t have to be here.”

“We’ve been through this before, Hermione. I’m not going away.”

“We don’t know how to stop the curses!”

“Then like before, we’ll figure it out. You said I could do the curses. So teach me how and I’ll help you with the counters,” he paused, briefly seeing the familiar look of worry in her expression, “I’m staying whether you like it or not, so you can let me help you or risk my being in the way. Your choice.”

After a few seconds, she finally relented, “Fine. But I need you to promise me one thing.”

"Anything."

"Don't get killed."

Harry could not do that, "I'll definitely try my best not to."

“You know what I mean! Let someone else be a hero this time.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever volunteered.”

Hermione pointed her wand at him and on instinct he grabbed her hand and pushed it away.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“They’ll know I was here. They will be less suspicious if I hex you.”

“No thanks, I think you’ve jinxed me more than enough for today. I’m coming with you. I’m not letting you out of my sight until you answer all my questions and we come up with a game plan.” And maybe finish what we were doing earlier.

They could hear voices just outside the apartment door. Hermione hesitated briefly, then marched off into her bedroom with her backpack slung on her left shoulder. When she noticed that Harry had not budged from his position, she turned and impatiently hissed, “Well, are you coming?”

He joined her at the front of her closet and followed her lead shutting off the light on her wand. She opened the door wide and shoved Harry into the closet packed with clothes. Why were they going into the closet? Probably hiding to spring a surprise?

Harry decided that while it was a good thing she was allowing him to tag along, he had to ask what the plan was, “There’s only six or seven of them. You take the three right most and I‘ll take the rest.”

“Keep you wand in your holster, cowboy. The last thing we need is to get you in trouble with the Ministry, too,” then she muttered under her breath, “I just know I’m going to regret this. I should have just petrified you.”

“Where are we going, I mean besides in your closet?”

Hermione squeezed in beside him and closed the closet doors just as they heard the Aurors file into the apartment. In the dark, she whispered, “I haven’t seen Ritchie since they arrested me.”

Ritchie. Her boyfriend. Something hot and unpleasant came over him.

“What’s the matter? Feeling a bit guilty snogging behind his back?” Harry was being sarcastic and said it before he could stop himself.

Harry could feel her scowl at him in the dark. He thought, ‘Good move Potter; you can start guessing how long before she allows you to kiss her again.’

An Auror was in the bedroom and he was approaching the closet. Hermione grabbed his arm, tighter than he thought was necessary, her fingernails digging into skin, and they Disapparated.

xxxxxxxxx

Ginny Thomas was worried. Today, she got an owl from the twins’ daycare that Dean forgot to pick up the kids again. That was the fourth time in two weeks. It was not like Dean to forget like that.

She talked to Dean about it the last time it happened and he could not tell Ginny where he was or what he was doing at the time the kids were supposed to be picked up.

Dean also seemed more distant over the last few weeks, and more so since Harry’s return. She thought she was imagining things, being too busy at St. Mungo’s and her schoolwork. But her witch’s 6th sense was telling her something was not right. She wondered if her husband was having an affair.

When they were married after she graduated from Hogwarts, everything was perfect. Dean earned a good living doing portraits for Muggles and magical folk alike and was developing a good reputation. They decided to and got pregnant soon after. The twins came and she went back to school.

The thing was Ginny thought Dean never got over the fact that she used to be with Harry, and she felt he was constantly trying to be better than Harry at everything. It was foolish really, to prove that she ended up with the better man, because she really ended up with the man she loved. Somehow, Dean thought that wasn’t enough for her.

When Harry disappeared, Ginny was as devastated as any other Weasley. Dean took her period of bereavement as a sign that she cared more about Harry (who was now gone) than him (who was still there).

Ginny resolved to put a traceability charm on Dean and follow him the next time he left the house unscheduled. It would be difficult and painful, but she wanted to see for herself if what she suspected was true.

Disclaimer : Not mine, definitely not mine. Thanks to JK Rowling for such wonderful characters.

Chapter 17. The Rules of Ritchie’s House

They popped up in the backyard of a 3-storey mansion that Harry figured was right smack in the centre of affluent London. He also deduced correctly that Hermione had found a way to break the anti-apparition charms the Ministry imposed on her apartment so that she could use her closet to go wherever she wanted. It was 7pm and only the sound of crickets broke the silence.

“He lives here?” Harry wondered how Ritchie was able to afford the place on an Inspector’s salary.

Hermione gave him a caustic look, seemingly reading his mind. “He got it from his parents!”

“You don’t have to defend him.”

“Look, Harry. He’s really a nice and decent guy,” she said to him as they walked side by side on a path to the back of the house.

“I’m a nice and decent guy,” he replied, “Is he nicer and more decent than I am?”

“It’s not a competition.”

“What is it, then?”

Hermione didn’t answer.

Harry backed off. As much as he wanted her to make a decision sooner, he could understand why she couldn’t. As she said, time did not stand still when he left. She had a life that did not include him for two years. It would be unreasonable to expect her to drop her current life just because he came back. Sadly enough, he could imagine himself being in Ritchie’s shoes.

And as Ginny said, they had to do the ‘talk’. Harry had to know where he stood. Was Hermione trying to be fair to Ritchie, or did she really care that much about Ritchie she would want to be with Ritchie rather than him?

She led him to the backdoor service entrance, paused, stowed her wand away and used a key from her jeans pocket to unlock the door.

‘Strange,’ Harry thought.

Harry was about to follow her in when she stopped abruptly, turned and almost caused Harry to crash into her.

“Wait! Before we go inside I want to set some house rules.”

“I promise I won’t pee on the carpet,” Harry said sarcastically.

“First of all, never mention magic, particularly anything about me doing magic, especially not my escaping using magic. Don’t interrupt,” she said, as Harry was about to say something.

“Second, keep your hands off your wand,” she eyed the wand sticking out of his pocket. “Better yet, give me that,” she snatched the wand from Harry, “I’ll give it back to you on your way out.”

“And third, whatever he says or does, don’t lose your temper. Do we understand each other?”

“Fine!” Harry was a bit perturbed about all the fuss. It wasn’t that he was not prepared to meet Ritchie. Ron’s memories gave him a preview of what to expect.

He followed Hermione in and up the winding staircase that led to a service kitchen the size of Hermione’s entire apartment. They went through a set of swinging doors that took them to a clean kitchen, then through to a dining room that could easily seat thirty people. The rooms were dimly lit with lamps at strategic locations, but Harry could see that this Ritchie must either spend a lot of time keeping it clean and in order, or could afford to hire a small village to maintain the place.

At the far end of the living room, light streamed from the gap between a set of wooden sliding doors that was slightly ajar. Harry judged correctly that this was a study, and there was a man pacing and passing the gap every so often.

“Wait here,” Hermione said to Harry as she opened the sliding door just enough to pass through and shut them behind her. As she did, the doors came apart about a quarter of an inch, not enough for him to see but plenty for him to hear.

A thud fell on the floor beside the door, likely Hermione’s backpack.

“Jane! Thank goodness you’re safe.” Harry could tell their figures merged and blocked off the light from the gap. He felt something hot develop from within him rising up to his head. Compared to how he felt in Ron’s memories, reality seemed to magnify his jealousy a hundred fold.

"Are you okay? Were you hurt?”

“I’m okay now,” Hermione replied, “Really, Ritchie, there’s no need to worry.”

“I tried to see you but they wouldn’t let me. And I couldn’t tell them anything because of that contract you and Ron made me sign. They wouldn’t even allow me to see Ron. Wait, I’ve been babbling since you arrived when I should be doing this first.”

Harry’s imagination went into overdrive. Without him wanting to, he guessed what they were doing and he was right. He moved as far away from the gap as quickly as he could.

“I missed you…and I missed this…”

Harry was irritated by the sound of his voice that now seemed to follow him. He tried not to listen, by singing to himself in his head, Hogwarts, Hogwarts...how did that song go again?

“And this…and definitely this…”

La, la, la, la-la!!! His face was really hot, head about to explode.

“Ritchie…no wait…not now, we have a…”

Two almost simultaneous explosions coming from the opposite lamps on the far end of the living room drowned Hermione’s sentence. The room briefly became pitch black before the sliding doors opened and flooded Harry with the light from the study.

Hermione was glaring at him for already breaking house rule number three.

She finished her sentence, “…guest.”

Harry said quickly, “Must have been a power surge,” he smiled and extended a hand to the blonde man beside Hermione, “Hi. I’m Harry.”

“Harry Potter. I finally meet the legend himself. Richard Tilly but please call me Ritchie.”

His tone was acerbic, with some underlying hostility. Harry sensed that they were not going to be good friends. They shook hands, firmly, as if each was trying to measure up to some standard, like who would flinch first or look away. He seemed nicer in Ron’s memory. Maybe he found out the answer to his question two weeks ago.

“I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Not all bad, I hope,” Harry looked over to Hermione, who was trying her best to keep her eyes from rolling up.

“Oh, Jane never talks about you. She tells me to read you up in a book whenever I ask. Ron has only good things to say. How you defeated Voldemort, stuff of legends.”

Can he not stop calling her Jane!?

“I could not have done it without Hermione and Ron. Hermione figured everything out,” Harry replied, putting a bit more emphasis on ‘Hermione’ than necessary.

He met her stare and immediately heard her in his head.

Don’t be juvenile!

Your boyfriend started it!

“I know, she’s very special,” he took Hermione’s hand and kissed the back of it, looking at her as he did. Harry squirmed, recognizing the man was marking his territory. “And modest. If Ron had not told me the details, the books do her an injustice.”

Hermione said sheepishly, “He actually wrote the publishers.”

“As Harry said, you had a big part in making him the legend that he is. You need to set the record straight, for our grand kids, even if you’re no longer a witch. How long has it been since you picked up your wand?”

Then Harry realized the reason for the rules and the use of a key to get in the house. Ritchie obviously did not want her doing magic and so she had to do it behind his back! What a prick! Hermione would always be a witch! And they’re talking about grandchildren?! A strong draft blew into the room and the lights began to flicker.

Hermione said to Ritchie hurriedly, with what Harry thought was a reprimanding tone, “Maybe you should check out this power problem we’ve been having.”

“Yeah, strange. I’ll be right back.”

When Ritchie was out of sight, Hermione shut the doors to the study, performed the Muffliato spell and turned to Harry to meet his glaring stare.

She walked closer to him and said under her breath, “I thought we had an understanding that you would keep your temper in check?”

Harry just let his infuriation run amuck, “You didn’t tell me he was such a jerk!”

“Okay, spit it out before you make something else explode and have the entire accidental magic reversal team come.”

“I can’t believe Ron was okay with this!” Harry was convinced that the memories showed but a part of what Ritchie was like.

“Leave Ron out of this,” Hermione tried to say as calmly as possible.

“What are you doing with this prick?”

“Quick to judge, are we? You haven’t even known him two minutes.”

“I don’t need two minutes to recognize a prick when I see one! He is so lucky I don’t have my wand!”

“Admit it, Harry. He’s only a prick because we’re involved and his name is not Ron!”

“I thought we were going to leave Ron out of this?” Harry couldn’t believe she was implying his judgment of Ritchie’s character was clouded by his jealousy.

“Maybe I should read that note again, you know, the one you left me two years ago. I should check if there was a postscript telling me that if Ron and I broke up, I should wait for you and not see anyone else.”

“That’s not the point,” Harry tried to say but got drowned by Hermione’s continuing tirade.

“But I guess I can’t do that because I burned that letter the same time I tossed all my Harry Potter memorabilia!”

Now, that was just mean and uncalled for. Did she really?

Harry pointed something out, “Well, you missed throwing out the vase I gave you when you moved into your apartment!”

“I took care of that tonight, didn’t I?” she said with a smug look on her face, making Harry even more furious.

“Did you bring me here to meet him so I’ll leave?”

Hermione gave out an amused laugh, “No, of course not! You asked to come, remember? But frankly, right about now, I’m not fussed if it does make you.”

“Don’t hold your breath, I never thought I’d see the day when you would let anyone stop you from doing magic!”

“I never thought you’d ever come back. That’s not the first time we both thought wrong. He’s not to blame!”

“Stop defending him!”

“I’m not defending him. I’m trying my best to keep you from making a fool out of yourself!”

Harry was off to rant and was really not listening anymore, “Just like you’re trying not to make a fool out of him by doing magic behind his back? I guess that was the reason for house rule number two, the one you’ve been repeatedly violating without his knowledge!”

“The rules were for you, but I should have known not to make rules because we both know that would only ensure you would break them!”

“So was that the deal? You don’t practice witchcraft and he won’t tie you up and burn you at the stake? I can’t think of any reason why you would give up magic for someone who talks about it like it’s a bad habit! You love magic! If he can’t see that then you shouldn’t be with him!”

You should be with me!

Harry hit a raw nerve, Hermione made an effort to control herself.

“Stop. Don’t even go there because you’ll just embarrass yourself!”

Drained from arguing, they glowered at each other.

xxxxxxxxxx

The Cardinal was upset. Draco Malfoy had been trouble. For one thing, Malfoy’s skill in Occlumency made it impossible for the Cardinal to use his thoughts against him. It necessitated the use of the Cardinal’s own emotion to perform the anger curse and as always, it was not a very pleasant experience. Worse, Malfoy had tried to break the curse and succeeded. A set back for sure. A humiliation. Granger would be laughing so hard at this show of utter incompetence. Not only was there now a need to find another specimen for that particular curse, there was also a loose end; a damaged but a still very much alive Malfoy. The Cardinal would be disgraced and potentially exposed.

The Cardinal looked at the magically bound blonde man who was now a problem. His right hand was limp and was barely hanging on to his wand. True, the Cardinal could take his wand away and kill him like a Muggle, but that would be cheating. The Muggle murders were already a complete set. Like Dorner, Lowes and Franks, Malfoy was allowed to defend himself with a wand, as any wizard should. A decision had to be made. Be a barbarian and use the killing curse or do something else. The Cardinal refused to think of the possibility of being identified with the common murderer that Voldemort was. It was decided. Malfoy had earned the right to live.

Disclaimer : We all know - thanks to JK Rowling!

Chapter 18. The Secrets and Lies of Hermione Jane

The doors to the study mercifully opened. Harry and Hermione turned away from each other as Ritchie brought in a tray of sandwiches and drinks.

“The power company says it must have been just a power fluctuation. Catching up on old times, were you?” Ritchie said as he set the tray on one the desks near Hermione.

Harry answered, considerably calmer than he was just a few seconds ago, “Yeah, we were. It’s amazing how so much can change in two years.”

Hermione whispered something in Ritchie’s ear and left the room.

Ritchie said to Harry, “Get started with the sandwiches, we’ll be right back,” he then shut the door behind him.

Harry could hear their muffled voices from just outside the door. They were arguing. "This is interesting," he thought as he walked closer. He could not help wanting to eavesdrop.

Hermione said, “I’m serious, Ritchie. Stop pushing his buttons.”

“How do you know for sure I’m doing that?” Ritchie tried to deny Hermione’s accusation.

“Because I know Ron told you what most books wouldn’t know about Harry, including his inability to control his temper and his insatiable curiosity. Richard, I’m serious!”

A smirk formed on Harry’s mouth. He was hoping Ritchie would even try so it would get more interesting.

“Okay, maybe I am doing that just a little bit. It’s so much fun watching him lose his temper but that last one was totally rich, I had nothing to do with that.”

Prick.

“Look, I expect you to be nice and be civil. I need both of you to work together to catch the Cardinal so set aside whatever differences and prejudices you have against him. He’s really a nice guy once you get to know him,” Harry heard Hermione say.

Ritchie answered, “Considering how this is the first time you’ve ever talked to me about him, I find it disturbing how you’re defending him.”

“I’m not defending him.”

That sounded familiar. Harry finally realized she was not really defending either of them. She was just trying to give them a better chance of having a conversation in the same room without having to bite each other’s head off.

An unidentifiable buzzing sound replaced the conversation and Harry knew that Hermione had something to do with that. Hermione was right; Harry had to be nice and civil too, regardless of how he thought about Ritchie. They did have to work together.

He walked around the study to keep busy and maybe pick-up on what kind of person this boyfriend of hers was. Several school awards and trophies for football. There were a few pictures of his parents who Harry thought he seemed not to take after. There were some of him and Hermione as well. Ouch.

Harry gravitated to the tray of sandwiches and suddenly felt hungry. As he picked up one he noticed Muggle post on the same table. They were sorted into three neat compartments; outgoing and one each for Richard and ‘Jane’. It appeared, much to Harry’s dismay, that Hermione’s life was now so entwined with Ritchie’s to the point of even having her post delivered to his house. Despite what just happened at her apartment, Harry wondered if he was too late.

Muggle Post. Why would Hermione get Muggle Post?

Looking back at the still closed sliding doors, he quickly sifted through the mail in Hermione’s tray.

His heart raced as he browsed the contents of some of the open letters. There was a phone bill, a credit card statement, a bank statement, pay notices from the nearby University, and an acceptance letter to the University Research Associate Program indicating that classes were to start next fall. It was not hard to come to the conclusion that Hermione had been living a Muggle life. She must really care about Ritchie to sacrifice her magic to be with him, but not enough to prevent her from almost sleeping with Harry?

He quickly shoved the mail back to where he took them from just as the doors to the study opened. It was Ritchie.

“Jane just had to make a quick call to the bookstore,” Ritchie explained as he approached Harry.

“Bookstore?”

“Yes,” Ritchie countered, “At the University. She’s working some hours there and just wanted to confirm she was coming in tomorrow.”

That explained the pay notices. So Hermione had a job, at a Muggle bookstore. Harry frowned, “She’s a fugitive.”

Ritchie laughed, “So I told her. I just spent the last five minutes trying to tell her what that meant, so be my guest trying to talk some sense into her.”

Harry just shook his head, “And then some things don’t really change.”

Ritchie walked closer to him and said, “Listen. She asked me, actually expects me, to be nice and civil to you so we can work together to catch this lunatic. I know you’re a hero and she says you’re really nice, but if you were either you would not have left her and Ron in the dark about where you were for two years. That was just selfish and cruel. I don’t like you so don’t expect me to be chummy. But for her I can do nice and civil.”

Harry did not expect him to understand; he could not tell him he thought it would have been more cruel to everyone had he stayed or kept in touch. What he thought was right then certainly wasn’t right anymore, knowing what he knew now. Ritchie was annoyingly right. Though he didn’t mean for it to be, from Ron and Hermione’s perspective, it was selfish and cruel for him not to have kept in touch.

Harry offered him a handshake, “Nice and civil it is then.”

They shook hands again. Harry felt it was a good opportunity to ask Ritchie something about Hermione while she wasn’t around.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why do you call her Jane? I mean, it is her middle name but you’re the only one I know who calls her that.”

“Unfortunately, if I tell you it might be misconstrued as an attempt to make you lose your temper,” Ritchie said, but Harry could sense he really wanted to tell the story. Nice and civil was relative after all.

“No, that’s okay. Please, indulge me,” Harry really wanted to hear it too. It was driving him crazy.

“You know that Jane and I grew up together, right?”

Harry nodded and mentioned hearing about their first meeting during his 9th birthday party. He did not want Ritchie to know all about Ron’s memories, yet.

Ritchie continued, “About four years ago, I was coming out of a really bad relationship and she was just starting her training at your Ministry. Our parents took us both on some winter vacation, partly to get us to get to know one another, telling us jokingly we were meant to be because we were ‘Dick and Jane’. They made sure we spent a lot of time together. She hated it and I was just too depressed to really care what our folks were trying to do.”

“Well, it didn’t take three days for me to be smitten,” he smiled as he reminisced, “It was just awkward, growing up with her and just suddenly realizing what a wonderful woman she is.”

Harry knew exactly what he meant.

“So I started calling her Jane to tease and annoy her,” Ritchie chuckled, “She’s so amazingly attractive when she’s annoyed. To make a long story short, towards the end of the two weeks, we had grown very fond of each other we had to come up with excuses to ditch our parents and be alone. She didn’t mind being called Jane anymore so the name stuck.”

“Winter four years ago,” Harry repeated, recalling now that this was something they talked about when they had dinner with Ron, “So what happened? Why did you break up?”

Ritchie answered, “We wanted to continue seeing each other in London. But when she said she was a witch, waved her wand and made it rain hearts, I freaked out. We broke up. I didn’t see her again until she and Ron came to talk with me about the murders two months ago,” then giving Harry an accusing look, “You should have seen her then, she was a mess.”

Harry didn’t appreciate his last comment but didn’t say anything. Harry had just confirmed what he suspected since seeing them at the Muggle restaurant in Ron’s memory. Hermione had an affair with Ritchie while she was still seeing Ron. That was the reason for Ron’s unsavoury remark when he first referred to Ritchie in that second memory that happened two months ago. Ron knew about the affair.

Hermione also had an affair with Harry while she was still seeing Ron. Then tonight, she was willing to do it again him even though she admitted she was seeing Ritchie. Harry wondered how many other times she had affairs; he never really thought she was the type who would have difficulty being faithful. Maybe she just didn’t want to be faithful or couldn’t be faithful.

And Ritchie ended their relationship four years ago when he found out she was a witch. Was she trying not to scare Ritchie off a second time by giving up magic?

Hermione walked in and muttered, “You’re both still standing, that’s a good sign.”

Harry replied coldly, “Ritchie was just telling me about winter vacation with your parents four years ago.”

“You shouldn’t be boring Harry with details,” she told Ritchie, taking notice that there was something bothering Harry again.

“Actually, it was a good story. Definitely one for the grandkids,” their eyes met as Harry looked over to Hermione.

Just then, the phone rang and Ritchie excused himself to answer it. Ritchie’s voice droned on in the background as they talked silently.

You and Ron were still going out four years ago.

He was disappointed not to see remorse in her eyes but was more disheartened than irate.

It was long time ago. Don’t judge me or look at me like I’ve done something unforgivable. It’s not what you think.

Was your unfaithfulness the reason why you and Ron were having trouble all those years? How could you do that to Ron?

I never cheated, not while I was with Ron. I’m tired, Harry. I don’t want to argue with you anymore, at least not tonight.

Despite Hermione’s request, Harry couldn’t let it go. He needed her to know he was dismayed, not only by what she had done but also with her continuing lies.

I participated in one such instance. Remember? I couldn’t look at you and not want you to be unfaithful to him so I left, because that would not only destroy me but, I thought, also ruin you. I was so thick it never crossed my mind that infidelity was nothing new to you. Ron knew about Ritchie. Does Ron know about us?

Ron knew everything about us, which, let me think, was basically that one night.

Harry could tell he got to her. Her reply had a slight tinge of sarcasm.

Ron was a saint to keep on giving you chances. And what about this boyfriend?

What about Ritchie? It won’t kill you to say his name.

Why bother knowing his name? This boyfriend might not last once he finds out about all the lies. You have not even told him the truth about us.

Finally, Hermione’s frustration exploded.

Get a grip, Harry! Does everybody have to know? Would you want me to take out a full-paged ad in the Prophet announcing that I was foolish enough to sleep with you? I never told Ritchie because I never believed you’d ever come back for it to matter!

Like it doesn’t matter that he’s oblivious to the fact that you still do magic? Why? Are you afraid he’s going to break-up with you again when he finds out that you still practice witchcraft? Affairs, potions, lies. I can only imagine how many other blokes took that potion before me. Tell me something; would you have obliviated me if you knew I didn’t take it? Was Viktor the only one lucky enough to have an honest relationship with you?

Satisfied with the pained expression in her face, he broke off eye contact. He loved her with all his heart, and it just hurt him to know that what they had was actually not as special to her as it was to him. It was, for her, their one night of idiocy; one of possibly numerous one-night stands. For the first time they both fell silent and had nothing to say.

Ritchie noticed the eerie strained silence between them when he got back, “Run out of things to say to each other?”

Harry answered plainly, “We were just wondering how Ron must have felt knowing you and Hermione had an affair while he was still seeing her.”

“Is this what this is about?” Ritchie sounded irritated, “I guess, Ron, your supposed best friend, never told you the truth and you think Jane cheated on him.”

“What truth is he talking about?” Harry asked Hermione, who ignored him.

“It’s not important, Ritchie,” Hermione tried to dismiss it but without success.

What’s not important? Harry’s heart was pounding, recalling all the horrible things he believed true about her and just said to her.

“What do you mean it’s not important?” Ritchie said to Hermione, “Ron’s in a coma and may never get to tell Harry the facts. I think Ron will understand if you break your promise so your friend here will stop thinking you’ve been unfaithful all this time. If you don’t tell him, I will.”

What promise? What was it that Ron never told him about?

“It’s between Ron and him.”

Finally, Harry turned to Ritchie and insisted, “No, tell me why I shouldn’t think she was unfaithful.”

Ritchie gladly replied, “Jane had been trying to break up with Ron even before you graduated from Hogwarts. She stayed with him to keep appearances until Ron was ready to let everyone know. Of course, Ron never got to the point of being ready. The only other reason Ron said he would let go was if she wanted to be with someone else.”

Harry shook his head almost immediately, “No,” then he turned to look at Hermione who was ready for him, “Tell me that’s not true.”

But he knew it was true. It made more sense now, looking back at how things were between Ron and Hermione after Hogwarts. Why didn’t he see it when it mattered?

Hermione met his inquiring stare and apologized, “I’m sorry, Harry, I promised Ron I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

Ritchie was about almost through with being nice and civil, “Why are you apologizing to him? He just accused you of being unfaithful!”

“So how come he knows?” Harry asked pointing at Ritchie.

“’He’ has a name and it’s not polite to point.”

“Ritchie doesn’t count,” it was as if Ritchie wasn’t even talking.

“That’s so nice to hear,” Ritchie mumbled.

“Ron didn’t care if Ritchie knew, but he wasn’t ready to let his family know. He wasn’t ready to let you know,” then talked to him in his head, Ron cared about what you thought of him.

“Ron was in denial that it was over, for a long time, hoping it was just some bad dream. At least that was how he explained it to me,” Ritchie offered.

Harry said, “I was his best friend. How could he not tell me?” You should have told me that night. Why didn’t you?

Hermione replied, “You’d have to ask him that.” I couldn’t break a promise. He was your best friend but you didn’t tell him how you felt about me, either.

“Ron was too proud to let you know he failed,” Ritchie seemed to know a lot about how Ron felt.

“Why did you stay with him?” Harry still could not understand.

“If I didn’t, I would have lost the only family I had left.”

Ritchie’s phone rang again, and he answered it with annoyance, “What? Oh, hi Chief…”, he walked away.

I would not have left had I known.

“Now? It’s really a bad time, I have guests,” Ritchie said over the phone as he watched Harry and Hermione look intently at each other, seeing their anguish and feeling his own pain, “Maybe in a couple of hours.”

Do you think I don’t know that? At least you didn’t have to go on with life knowing what could have been for the past two years.

I’m really sorry for being a jerk. I said all those rotten untrue things about you and you let me do it. If it hadn’t been for your…for Ritchie, I would have continued to think you did all those mean things to Ron.

I guess that’s one thing you have to thank Ritchie for.

I don’t understand. You actually chose to keep a promise and preferred me to continue to think you were unfaithful.

I need all the help I can get to stay faithful.

I’m sorry. I can’t help you with that.

I know not to ask.

XXXXXXXXXX

It was late and Dean still wasn’t home. He usually said something if he was going to be this late. Ginny wondered if he slipped into his workroom without telling her.

With the kids fast asleep, she slipped on her cloak and walked across their backyard to a modest hovel where Dean had set up his painting studio. She knocked first; there was no answer.

Ginny unlocked the door with a spell and entered. The smell of paint immediately brought her back to the time when she used come by everyday, watching him paint, more like distracting him from painting. She looked over to the futon where the twins were conceived and broke into a nostalgic smile. Then she found herself wondering when she stopped coming to watch him work and why.

She looked at his current work in progress. A young girl with a woman, dressed as a Healer, who she assumed was her mother in a familiar patient waiting area at St. Mungo’s. That was his talent. Putting family moments like that on canvass as he had done so many times for his own. Similar paintings of her, and the twins were hung all around the studio. His favourites were inside their house, some he gave to her mom to display at the Burrow.

As she was about to leave, something different caught the corner of her eye. It was another room that wasn’t there before. Dean said years ago he wanted a room where clients could come in and pose for him so he wouldn’t have to be away from home. Maybe he finally got around to making that happen.

As she walked towards it, she did not know why but her pulse quickened. Something about what she was about to do terrified her. It was locked, of course, thinking, as she unlocked it, that maybe it was to keep the twins out. Stepping into it, she wished she could have been more prepared to see what she saw.

Every imaginable space was covered with pictures of Hermione.

XXXXXXXXXX

It was cold and dark in the closet save for the small amount of light passing through the keyhole. A familiar voice from the living room was pleading, “I beg you, my Lord. The child is my life. Let the child live.”

A sinister laugh echoed in their small abode and that would be forever etched in the child’s memory. It came from a most odd individual; a man with two faces with a terrifying voice.

“I will let the child live on one condition.”

“Anything, my Lord.”

In the coldest and most heartless tone one could ever hear, the two-faced man said, “You must die!”

And as the man laughed, he turned the back of his head towards the closet; his snake-like eyes penetrated the tiny slit through which the child was observing from, and an overwhelming wave of horror caused the child to fall back.

Soon after, a flash of green light briefly infiltrated the confines of the closet space. Then there was total silence.

The Cardinal’s eyes opened. The vision of that horrible moment used to happen only in dreams. Now, it scorched through the Cardinal’s entire being and replaying it was a ritual. It was the best way to focus before each murder, which would be any time now. The Cardinal was about to meet and kill the next victim.

Disclaimer : Harry Potter - Not mine but JK Rowling's.

Chapter 19. The Impractical Third Counter Curse

Hermione had to turn away from Harry for a moment to wipe off a tear just before it could stream down her face.

She asked him, “How much do you know about Lumos?”

Harry told her about Ron’s memories, finishing just as Ritchie got off the telephone and joined them.

“He has killed again, a wizard this time, and he did not cover this one up for the Muggles to find. How do you know Lyle Franks?”

Ritchie answered, “He got to Lyle?”

“He was found this morning, definitely for the wizards to see,” Harry took a photo of the dead man’s body and showed it to them.

“In my handwriting, and very informal as I would have done if I were writing to you,” Hermione noted, “Lyle was helping us with the counters. He could do the curses.”

That explained all the meetings in Franks’ appointment book.

“You trained him? I thought…”

Ritchie interrupted, “It was my idea. We really had no choice. Ron and Hermione were not getting any help from your Ministry or your previous allies. The Cardinal was getting stronger and more skilled, we had to do something.”

Hermione continued, “It took a couple of weeks to get the first curse out of him and after a few days, Lyle had had it. He was a teacher and he said he couldn’t continue throwing curses at us. These are similar to the Unforgivable curses in that it takes a lot of dreadful emotion to conjure them, and someone as sweet as Lyle just didn’t have enough meanness in him to continuously do it and be unaffected. He said it was eating him up inside and changing him. So he begged off and asked us to obliviate him.”

“From the crime scene it didn’t seem like he fought for his life at all,” Harry thought that he would have at least thrown a curse or two.

Hermione answered, “For one thing, the Cardinal at this point is not really challenging anyone; he’s creating perfect examples of murders using the curses. He’s probably stunning his victims first then taking his time to kill them when they are somewhat defenceless. And even if we did not wipe his memory, Lyle would have died had he used any of it. He vowed not to use the curses outside the trials.”

Harry knew what she meant.

“But I still can’t believe Kingsley and Tonks would not help.”

“Ron and I tried several times, even handing in an official request to the Auror’s Office to investigate,” said Hermione.

Harry chose his words carefully to avoid breaking another house rule, “When I talked to them earlier this week, they seemed okay. They did help me help you escape.”

Ritchie looked at Hermione, “You always suspected Dorner had a hand in that. Maybe something has changed since his death. It might be worthwhile going back to them. You are going to need allies in the Ministry not only to catch the Cardinal but to clear your name.”

“Ritchie’s right. It will unlikely be the Minister and definitely not your new Department Head.”

“I guess we can try them again,” Hermione agreed.

Finally, Ritchie asked Hermione a question Harry had wanted to ask.

“Jane, what happened that night? With Ron?”

Hermione spoke to them both, “Ron and I were checking out the background reports on the murdered Muggles when we received a note from the Cardinal. He said Dorner was dead and when we got to my lab, he was long gone. There was another note there, instructing me to meet the Cardinal at my apartment, alone.”

“So Ron came up with a plan. He was going to send out an Auror alert that someone had been murdered and that the killer was at my place. We argued about whether or not I should go. Then he petrified me and left.”

She paused as a few teardrops fell quietly. Harry wanted to comfort her but Ritchie was closer. Ritchie put one arm around her shoulders and held her hand in his.

“You understand why, right? He didn’t want you anywhere near the creep,” Ritchie said so softly to her Harry could barely hear it.

She nodded and continued, “When his curse lifted, I went to my apartment. There were several unconscious Aurors, including Ron. The Cardinal was waiting for me. He said his personal invite was to celebrate his wizard murders of Dorner and Lowes with me alone, before he started destroying my life. He said Ron was foolish to call in the Aurors…and even more foolish to offer his life in exchange for the Cardinal to leave me alone when…he was clearly already going to die that night…”

She barely finished saying the last few words as tears started flowing freely from her eyes and she broke down weeping. Ritchie pulled her closer to him to soothe her. Harry’s heart cried with her.

After a while, she finally calmed down enough to be able to speak, “He must not have realized Ron was still alive. As the other Aurors arrived he disapparated, and they took me in.”

“Well, that night he framed you for Dorner’s and he was hoping, Ron’s, deaths but he must not have anticipated you would get arrested. Your escape was necessary for him to continue blaming more murders on you,” Ritchie pointed out.

“You’re saying that if I was sent to Azkaban, the murders would have stopped.”

Ritchie replied, “Probably not. He would still do them anyways. I think it makes it more convenient for him that you’re not in Azkaban. Nobody is looking for him because everyone thinks it’s you.”

Harry had a thought, “Things may change when he’s done with the seven. I’m guessing, that’s the time he’ll link you to the Muggle murders and help in any way to get you arrested. How do you think he got your wand?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Hermione said.

That did not surprise Harry at all. If she had not used her wand for an entire month as the Ministry said, the Cardinal could have had it for days and she would not have noticed it was missing. He stopped himself, as he was about to say something to Ritchie about his stupid rules, thinking about being nice and civil, for her.

“How do the Cardinal curses affect you?” Harry asked.

Hermione replied, “Think Dementors. Dementors suck all the happiness out of you and make you relive your most horrible memories. The Cardinals keep the mind pre-occupied with negative emotions and feelings, in a most severe case, to the point of actually dying. Imagine rage within you increase a thousand fold such that it occupies every nook and cranny in your mind. You can’t think of anything else but that self-feeding angry thought.”

“Do the counters work on the same principle as the Patronus Charm?”

Hermione answered, “In a way, the first set does.”

Hermione took a small computer from her backpack, keyed in a password as any Muggle would and opened her Lumos report. She gave it to Harry after she found him the page that summarized what he just asked. He quickly browsed Hermione’s Lumos report.

Possible counter-curses:

1. Use of the seven Cardinal traits – patience for anger, humility for pride, generosity for greed, chastity for lust, diligence for sloth, moderation for gluttony, charity for envy

Advantages – uses positive energy

Disadvantages – must know the Cardinal curse in use to invoke counter-curse and have strong previous use of specific Cardinal trait

2. Use the same Cardinal curses against the invoker as Merlin reportedly had.

Advantages – opponent’s negative energy is used

Disadvantages – will be difficult to harness, results unpredictable.

3. Disable the enabled.

Hermione went on, “Of course, the best defence against any curse is not to get hit by it. But if you do get hit, you’ll know which curse right away so you have to think of a corresponding contrary memory quickly before you lose your mind; like for anger, think of a memory when you showed patience and hope that it’s strong enough to break the curse.”

“The seven counter curses using the Cardinal traits, being positive by nature, do not have to be conjured by an enabled person. They are purely defensive spells and will allow one to disengage from a curse. But since neither Ron nor I are enabled and we couldn’t do the actual curses to test them until Lyle helped us. They’re almost ready.”

Ritchie added, “But even if you break the curse, there is still the task of trying to bring the Cardinal into custody and that will be the real challenge. The second set of counters is basically fighting fire with fire. Jane can’t trust anyone with it hence the vow.”

Harry looked at number three; there was no description, “Tell me more about the last one.”

Hermione hesitated, “Stick with the first two. The third one is a wash, it’s not even on the report I sent Dorner.”

“That’s even better. The Cardinal is not going to expect it. If we disable the Cardinal, it will be easier to catch him,” Harry insisted, common sense and insatiable curiosity working against Hermione.

Hermione tried to downplay its significance; “It’s just an out-of-the-blue theory with no factual basis whatsoever.”

“We’re testing the other two. So what’s the third theory? Let’s test it,” Harry pressed on.

Ritchie muttered under his breath, probably not meaning to think out loud, “We can test it on you.”

Hermione heard Ritchie and gave him a most severe look.

He hurriedly gave her his excuse, “Sorry, I didn’t really mean that.”

Hermione was still thinking about whether or not to tell Harry.

Harry was getting a bit impatient, “Okay, so don’t tell me. I just hope that when I face the Cardinal, the first two sets of counters will be enough because I’d really hate it if the last thought that comes to my mind before I die was ‘Geez, knowing that third one sure would have been handy’.”

“Harry does have a point. If he’s about to die anyway, why waste his life,” Ritchie said. Harry could sense Hermione was more annoyed by Ritchie’s suggestion of Harry’s death than Harry was. She stared at Harry.

You’re not going to try this.

How can we test it if I don’t try it?

You’re never going to use this.

What good is it if we don’t?

You’ll let someone else be a hero.

I told you, I’m done being a hero. Totally overrated.

Remember, you promised not to get yourself killed.

I remember. Now. will you tell me already? I think Ritchie is beginning to wonder why you’re staring at me. He might think there’s something going on between us.

He tried his best not to smile.

Resigned to the fact the she had to, Hermione explained the third hypothesis, “With the exception of the Cardinal curses, opportunistic magic made possible by sacrificing one’s existence harnesses positive energy to create positive outcomes. I found it ironic that such a precious gift of sacrifice, of complete positivism, can be used to murder. So I came up with the third theory, which is not really a theory. It’s more like a wish, a hope, that it is possible to take away that gift because it is not being used as it is supposed to. The premise is that for any opportunistic magic applied to the Dark Arts, if there is an enabling condition, there has to be a disabling condition. And if this disabling condition does exist, logic dictates that it will be of an equal or greater magnitude compared to the enabling circumstance.”

Harry understood, but Ritchie paraphrased Hermione’s textbook-like description of the hypothesis for clarification, “In other words, in theory, the Cardinal can be disabled by sacrificing one’s life, or doing something of greater magnitude, if there is such a thing.”

“Interesting theory. That is kind of hard to test in the lab,” Harry deadpanned. How could he think disabling the Cardinal would be easy? Hermione had this most worried look on her face he wished he could do something about.

Harry shifted the conversation, which he just realized wasn't any more cheerful than the previous topic, “And the three murders to go before me?”

Ritchie answered, “He’s going to do the same thing he did with the Muggles; one curse for each murder. Look at it this way, Harry. If he gets to you, you’ll know what curse to defend against.”

“That’s reassuring,” Harry countered, “So we have three; Lowes was sloth, Dorner pride, and Franks, I couldn’t figure out from his expression.”

Hermione answered, “Gluttony. He was a recovering alcoholic. I was just wondering if there was another reason why he picked Lyle. I still think each person he picks as a victim is someone significant. It can’t be random. He had to get rid of Dorner and Lowes, but why Lyle?”

Ritchie thought, “Do you think he’s trying to eliminate enabled wizards from your list?”

“He might know I’m asking for help. Lyle was number four on my list. Or it may just be coincidence. Professor Snape declined, by the way. But Malfoy is in.”

“You’re teaching this to Malfoy?” Harry could almost not believe what he heard.

“I trust him, and besides, having two of you will give you both the opportunity to learn the counters.”

Harry didn't argue but thought Hermione was crazy to even consider having him and Malfoy curse each other; especially with something that could be lethal.

“Do you know if there was a third Unspeakable working on Dorner’s special projects?” he asked Hermione.

She shrugged, “Dorner never mentioned a third. If there was you’re not going to be able to know which one unless they come forward and admit it, which hasn’t happened so probably never will.”

“We need to check out your list, Hermione,” Harry said. “If Lowes took your ideas, I’m guessing he picked his enabled from your list too. We need solid suspects and potential victims.”

“Ron and I went through the entire list a few times but we can go through it again. There are a couple on the list that we couldn’t track down so Ritchie is giving us a hand. Ritchie also is helping us with Muggle background checks on the list as well as top Ministry officials. The Cardinal definitely has Muggle ties and connections with someone higher up in the Ministry.”

Ritchie spoke, “We have a few new leads on the victims. We’ve had fifteen murders; all victims were, to say the least, not well liked and were of ill repute. There was also occupational clustering. Fourteen victims worked, at one time or another, in orphanages, schools, or social services. One was a foster care parent. It seems our murders were of a very personal nature.”

“Makes me feel kind of sad for our Cardinal,” Harry said, “So we’re looking for an orphan or an unwanted child?”

Hermione frowned, “Possibly. How many foster kids did this parent have?”

“Twelve, not all at once but over her lifetime, all adults now” Ritchie replied, knowing Hermione thought that would be the place to start too, “We cross-referenced these twelve names to known students and clients of the other fourteen victims. Not one matched to all fourteen. The best match was to nine deaths and there was one who knew eight. But between them, all the victims were known.”

“Which could mean the choice of Muggle victims was their combined wish list,” Harry noted.

“There’s more,” Ritchie continued, “I took the names on your enabled list and tried to see if they ever had contact with any of our victims. One of them matched up to eight victims too. Curiously, it’s one of the two that you and Ron were not able to track down. Between your missing enabled and each of those two foster children, all fifteen victims were also known.”

"So we're saying that these three are suspects, and that at least two of them chose which Muggles to kill," Hermione summarized, "Good, at least we have some names to work on."

Harry asked, “Have you talked to any of them? Do we know if any of our suspects knew each other?”

“We're working on that. The problem is we’re having difficulty tracking them down. One of the foster children just dropped out of the face of our world shortly after he turned eleven, the same age your missing enabled did. That would be around the time they would have started attending Hogwarts and I’m wondering if they just never came back to their old lives. We’re still chasing leads on the other foster kid.”

“Which name on my list was it?” Hermione asked.

“Number five, T.M.Didler.”

Then something struck Harry about the name, “Can you spell out that last name?”

Hermione did and just realized what Harry was thinking, “That’s interesting. Why did I not see that before? It’s an anagram for Riddle.”

Ritchie caught on, “Hmmm, T.M. Riddle. Tom Marvolo Riddle. Voldemort.”

Harry mentioned how the Cardinal sounded like Voldemort.

“But isn’t Voldemort dead?” Ritchie asked.

“Very much so, unless he has found a way to become un-dead, which is not really beyond him.”

Hermione shook her head, “No, I don’t think it’s Voldemort. Maybe someone related, though we know he doesn’t have any known living relatives. Or, it could be a coincidence and we’re reading too much into it. I think the Cardinal is someone we might know, maybe from the Ministry or from Hogwarts. Probably someone familiar so he needs the disguise.”

Harry said, “You and Ron couldn’t find Didler in our records either. We can try Hogwarts. If Didler attended or got an invite to Hogwarts there should be records. And I can look and see if your foster kids did show up in our side of the world.”

Ritchie wrote two names on a piece of paper and handed it to Harry.

Harry continued as he folded the paper and put it in his pocket, “Let me work on this and on Tonks and Kingsley for a possible meeting with the two of you tomorrow. If we can convince them, we can try resurrecting the Order. We need to arm as many wizards and witches with at least the ability to disengage from the curse. Then we can go to Scrimgeour."

He said to Ritchie, "It might also be worthwhile cross-referencing Dorner, Lowes and Franks with your three names. The Cardinal may have known them, particularly Franks, from the past, " then he turned to Hermione, "And if you trust me not to become another Cardinal, I’d really rather not make an Unbreakable vow. The ability to perform the curses against him might be helpful.”

Ritchie replied on Hermione's behalf, “She trusts you with her life so it’s settled. We may have a lead on the other foster kid, something about him now being a famous painter who lives in the area. I’m meeting one of the Chief’s personal informants later tonight, and no you’re not coming with me,” he said to Hermione and the hopeful expression on her face became a frown.

“But it could be dangerous,” Hermione persisted.

“All the more reason why you shouldn't come,” Ritchie said dryly, “Even Harry will agree with me on this.”

“Most definitely,” Harry concurred. ”You’ve been on the run for a couple of days. You need to rest, Hermione. And I have to get going.”

Harry was beat.

Ritchie pulled out something from his desk drawer and threw it towards Harry who caught it. It was a Muggle mobile telephone.

“My number and Jane’s number are on the speed dial. You think you can figure out how to use it?”

“I’ll let you know if I can’t, thanks,” he replied, though truthfully, he would rather grow hair out of his ears. Harry didn’t mind Ritchie's sarcasm as much anymore after overhearing his and Hermione’s conversation.

“I’ll show him out,” she said to Ritchie as she grabbed Harry’s wand from her backpack, handed it to him and they walked in silence back to where they apparated.

She looked exhausted and Harry felt an overwhelming regret knowing he said so many things that night that hurt her. He spoke to her just as he was about to step outside the service entrance. “Hermione, the things I said earlier tonight, I’m really sorry. I…”

Hermione cut him off, “It’s not your fault, Harry. You couldn’t have known. I haven’t been totally honest with you.”

Harry felt a bit of rawness about her that he noticed when he first saw her a few days ago at St. Mungo’s, and then he recognized it. It was like that of a wounded animal just trying to survive, trying to protect herself from further harm.

He held her eyes with his and asked, “Are you okay?”

She did not answer but had a pained expression on her face.

“It’s me, Hermione, it’s still me. After all these years, I’m still Harry; the boy you met on the train; your best friend at Hogwarts; the guy whose life you’ve saved so many times you’re literally the reason I live. I know I haven’t been around in a long while but I’m here now. I’m here if you need me.”

Hermione walked towards him and they embraced, like they used to while they were still at Hogwarts. And as much as Harry didn’t want her to, with her face buried in his chest, Hermione started crying again. She broke down uncontrollably, sobbing hard, Harry thought, likely for everything she felt in her for the past week, for the past month, possibly for the past two years. He was her friend first and foremost, that was what she needed at the moment.

He stroked her hair and whispered softly in her ear, “Sssh…it will be all right.”

When the tears finally ran out, she stepped back and said, smiling weakly, “Despite all the hexes I’ve thrown at you lately, I am kind of thankful you’re back”

“Kind of?” he smiled with her, though perturbed that she still had mixed feelings about his return, “I shouldn’t have left in the first place.”

“Goodnight, I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said. They leaned into each other and as if it was what they always did, kissed each other sweetly on the lips.

Harry asked, trying to ignore the bittersweet ache he was feeling in his gut as she ended their kiss sooner than he wanted to, “Does he kiss better than I do?”

Hermione answered, “It’s not a contest.”

Before she pulled away completely, he begged, hopeful, “Stay with me, tonight…”

She replied almost in a whisper, “I’m sorry, Harry.”

And Harry saw her quickly disappear behind the door.

There were so many things he still wanted to say. He wanted to say, he loved her now as he loved her then and wished he could hold her in his arms tonight like he knew Ritchie would. How he longed for them to kiss and make love as they did during that one night of idiocy. He felt a tug in his heart. When he thought his heart was broken enough, it broke again. Maybe, she just needs more time.

He disapparated to Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Alone in his room that evening he thought about what sent him away and what brought him back. He thought about what he really wanted to do, knowing what he knew now about Hermione, about Ron, about Ritchie, about this Cardinal.

For sure he wanted to stop this Cardinal. Ron, he could not really do anything about. He definitely was going to do his best to get her back but decided that even if Hermione wanted to be with Ritchie, he would stay this time to face his fate and maybe make it a bit more interesting. That night, he wrote his good friend Oliver Wood, thanked him for the past two years. He would use an owl service in the morning to send it. He wrote him that Philip Horton, Quidditch Seeker and World Series Champion, was retired and would never come back.

Weary, Harry emptied his pockets out onto the table. What a day he just had. First there was Lyle Franks’ dead body, then Ron’s memories, and then Hermione. He sighed as a piece of paper caught his attention from the pile of stuff he just dumped on the table.

He opened the fold and looked at the names on Ritchie’s note. Maybe the names of the foster kids would ring a bell. The first name briefly caught his interest. Dean Gray. The only Dean he knew would never hurt a fly, though he did recall Ritchie saying one of the foster kids was now a painter. It must be coincidence. There could be a few painters in the area named ‘Dean’. And was Ginny’s Dean an orphan? Harry realized he didn’t really know anything about Dean’s childhood and made a note to ask Ginny. He just thought it was kind of embarrassing not knowing that about your friends.

Harry froze as he read the second name on the list. He recognized it instantly. Hermione would have too had Ritchie said his name. This can’t be a fluke. It was such an uncommon name in this part of the world for too many people to have. He must have read the name three times just to be sure. The second name on Ritchie's note was Miguel Gomez, current Head of the Department of Mysteries.

XXXXXXXXXX

The Cardinal was looking over the deceased body of the latest victim, somewhat amused that death did not make the man’s face paler than it normally was. There was a feeling of satisfaction as blood oozed from the dead man’s mangled left arm. The mark that had been etched there for years was no more, forcible sculpted out of the undeserving individual. The message for Harry Potter read.

Thank me for killing this traitor on your death day. The next one will be family.

Disclaimer : You know the drill ... Harry Potter is JK Rowling's.

Chapter 20 – Ginny’s Fury

Ginny was aghast by what she saw. Nothing could have prepared her for that and she could not begin to think what to think.

It was a shrine. Not only were there paintings of Hermione, there were Muggle and wizard pictures and newspaper articles dating all the way back from Hogwarts to the present. She could not believe that the man she was married to for five years was obsessed with her best friend.

Were they having an affair?

Was that why Hermione had been so distant?

Was that why Dean was becoming more distant?

She noticed this more when Harry arrived but that was also the day Hermione escaped. Maybe they broke up and were now back together.

All the images of Hermione started spinning around her as her mind raced thinking about her life and her children’s lives, and how that had just changed. Her heart was pounding. Her chest was tightening. Her insides were churning. She couldn’t breathe. She was going to pass out…

Finally she willed her feet to run, stumbling out of the room and out into their backyard. She threw up in their rose garden, fittingly, as it was something she and Dean planted together. She noticed she was crying and when she did, she began wailing uncontrollably.

Ginny did not know how long she was there. She lost track of time. Finally, her tears were spent and what was left was this aching void inside her. She knew what she had to do. Of course she would confront him. She would confront him first and then take the kids and leave him. She was a firm believer of trying to do everything to make a marriage work but even if he wanted to do that, what she just saw was lunacy. What wife could get past the image of her husband’s obsession with another woman?

Calmer and more composed, she was almost thinking normally now. Hermione was her best friend and in her heart she knew Hermione would never cross that line. Ginny was just with her at St. Mungo’s this afternoon, as she spent some time with Ron. Ginny did not sense anything amiss between them. Maybe Hermione knew about it and that was why she was avoiding them for the past five months.

The sound of a twig breaking behind her caught her attention and she turned around. It was her husband. Her ex-husband.

“What are you doing here?” Dean asked, and sensing that she had been crying, “Are you okay? Are the kids okay?”

He tried to touch her and she withdrew.

“When were going to tell me? Were you even going to tell me?” Ginny’s voice was as calm as possible.

“Tell you what?” Dean seemed confused, “What’s going on?”

“Your room, the room with her pictures!” How could he stand there and deny knowing what she was talking about!

“What room?! Whose pictures?!” Dean sounded equally angry, “Are you talking about the unfinished room in the back?!”

“Yes, the room in the back, but from what I can tell, it’s definitely finished!”

“What are you so upset about? I told you ages ago I was going to do that so I could spend more time with the kids at home. You agreed to it, remember?”

“Well, if I agreed to something, I’m sure it wasn’t for you to create a place to worship Hermione Granger!”

Ginny’s face was scarlet with rage. She was breathing hard and glaring at Dean, who looked dumbfounded. His look infuriated her even more. She had never been this enraged since Hogwarts.

“Show me,” Dean said calmly.

“No, I’ve seen enough!” Ginny thought he was definitely crazy if he believed she was going to go in there again.

“No, show me,” he repeated.

“I didn’t think you could be this cruel,” she said as she walked past him and went into his studio. Dean followed her in.

As Ginny approached the room, she felt her chest tighten again. Why did he have to do this? What sick satisfaction was he going to get from humiliating her even further?

The door was slightly ajar and she stopped right in front of it. No matter how much she tried, she was never going to be prepared to see the room again. Sensing her hesitation, Dean pushed to door open and Ginny could not believe what she saw.

It was just as Dean said it was, an unfinished room with planks of partitions, unopened pails of house paint and bags of unmixed plaster. She was flabbergasted.

“But I know what I saw…” Ginny said more to herself than to Dean. The room was real.

She looked at Dean and saw tears in his eyes. He looked heartbroken.

“Ginny, you know I love you, and I didn’t want to say anything all these years. If this is about wanting to be with him you could have just told me.”

Ginny couldn’t believe what she just heard, “Who? Harry? No, I don’t want to be with him! I’m married to you!”

“That doesn’t seem to matter,” he said quietly, “I’ll spend a few days at Seamus’. If you can take the kids to day care, I’ll pick them up and drop them off at Molly’s.”

Then Dean was gone, leaving Ginny thinking, how could her seeing a roomful of Hermione’s pictures make Dean think she wanted to be with Harry? That did not make any sense! Did he think she made it all up? She had just about had it with his insecurity!

And, what happened to all the portraits and pictures? She knew that was not a figment of her imagination because never in her wildest thoughts did she ever consider that possibility. Ginny felt her face grow fiery hot again. There was just no other logical explanation. Dean must have seen her go into the room and he got rid of everything as she was bawling her eyes out and throwing up in disgust. What angered her more was that he had the gall to shed crocodile tears and accuse her of wanting to be with Harry! He painted himself the victim so he could leave and tell everyone it was her fault! It was nice of him to tell her where he was going to be! Well, as far as Ginny was concerned, he could stay with Seamus forever!

Just outside one of the windows to the studio, Inspector Richard Tilly was crouched in the bushes. Dean Gray a.k.a. Dean Thomas had just disappeared. How was Ritchie supposed to trail him now! He cursed in his head, chastising himself for being so inept. He hated not being able to do anything about the fact that he was not one of them. And he hated that he had earlier stepped on what smelled like puke.

Ritchie was waiting for the wife to leave. He did not want to risk being seen or heard. He could only imagine what dire consequences would arise when an angry witch finds a Muggle eavesdropping on her private property, particularly after a row with who was now their number one suspect in the Muggle stabbing case.

A few minutes earlier, he had just turned off the car ignition when he heard husband and wife arguing. He quickly moved in closer to listen in but couldn’t really see their faces from where he was. Something about a place of worship and he heard Jane’s name. As they went into the shack, he found the perfect spot to eavesdrop further. Then he heard the wife say she did not want to be with ‘Harry’. He felt it safe to assume they were talking about the same Harry who was currently the bane of his existence. What was going on?

He finally saw the red head stomp back to her house. Ritchie thought she looked familiar as he slowly and quietly walked back to his car. He got in, taking care to wipe off the vomit from his shoe, and drove back home.

As he got to a stopped traffic light, he pulled the folder that the Chief’s personal informer hastily handed him about half an hour ago. It surprised Ritchie that the Chief had an informer who straddled both worlds.

Dean Thomas was born Dean Gray in one of the local orphanages. His mother was underprivileged and his father was a suspected Death Eater who left his pregnant wife months before. There were complications at childbirth, and his mother was hospitalized for a long time. Recovery took even longer and it was felt best to leave Thomas to spend a lot of his childhood in foster homes. Details were sketchy at best about what happened to him after he turned eight years old but at some point his father came back and took him from foster care. Soon after, Mr. Gray died suddenly of unknown reasons. At that time, Thomas’ mother had remarried and his stepfather, one Stephen Thomas, formally adopted him.

He looked at the rest of the information on Thomas. Thomas was a Gryffindor around the time Harry and Jane were at Hogwarts. They definitely knew each other. Seamus, he read, was Seamus Finnegan, his best friend. Thomas had married just after graduation and had twin sons. His wife was Ginevra Weasley. Weasley. Thomas called her Ginny. Of course, she looked familiar because she was Ron’s sister. This was getting to be too complicated. Though she would not be thrilled at the reason why, at least he could tell Jane he finally saw her best friend. Her best friend who she did not want him to meet and who she had not seen for quite some time.

A loud honk behind him made him realize the traffic light before him had been green for quite sometime. A large muscled man in the car that just passed him was giving him the finger. He returned the greeting in kind as his mind drifted back to the events of the night.

After Harry left, Ritchie got ready to leave too to meet the Chief’s informant. Jane came back to the study following what Ritchie thought was an inordinate amount of time just to see someone out. He really didn’t want to leave Jane, having not seen her for quite some time. Not only did he miss her, they needed a good talk, alone. He was aching to talk to her about what Harry Potter’s return meant.

Jane’s phone call two months ago was a jolt. He never expected to hear from her again, not after what happened four years ago. He had to thank the Cardinal for that. Admittedly, at first he felt that their parent induced romantic interlude had a lot to do with the physical attraction they had for each other, and the fact that he was insecure after just being dumped. She helped him move on and they really did have a good time.

Of course, that changed when she showed him she was a witch. He freaked out, not so much because he saw her perform magic for the first time (though admittedly that was part of it), but more so because she was taking their relationship to the next level. He just ended one very badly and was not ready for another soul sharing commitment. Surely, though he had no past experience to draw from, a witch revealing herself to a non-magical person meant she was very serious about him. That was the real reason he broke it off with her.

Ritchie was more depressed than ever a week after getting back from that vacation. He realized that he was actually smitten by her and he had just given up a chance to get to know Jane better because he was afraid he would get hurt again, preferring to wallow in self-pity. He tried to woo her back but she ignored him. He sure blew that one and he wasn’t about to mess up this second chance to be with her.

But it’s funny sometimes how fate works. After four years of dead end relationships, here he was, eager to give it his all to have a meaningful relationship with someone he knew was worth the commitment, and it was now Jane’s turn to feel as he felt before; only the situation was worse. Four years ago, it was more of his ego that was bruised. In Jane’s case, her heart was broken, very badly. It wasn’t that she shunned commitment; she wanted to commit but just couldn’t.

That first night after leaving Ron at the restaurant, they talked about almost everything, except the reason for the frequent fleeting moments of sadness in her eyes. She seemed to avoid any conversation that would lead Ritchie to ask her about that. When he dropped her off, she invited him to come up to her place for coffee.

The second they stepped out of the elevator they were making out. It felt to him that she had a lot of pent up sexual energy just about to explode. He had no illusions about what he was to her that night. She made it perfectly clear that she had nothing to give him and that all she wanted was for him to make her feel alive.

As they lay naked kissing and touching each other on her bed, Ritchie felt the difference immediately. She would not allow him to look into her eyes and noticed that she kept them closed for the most part. Her kisses were full of melancholy and deep longing he knew for sure they were not for him. Ritchie understood that that night, he was not Ritchie, not to her. She was making love to someone else with such sorrow it felt as if she was loving him one last time, saying goodbye and letting go.

And Ritchie was a willing participant. He wanted to help her heal and move on as she had helped him four years ago. If that meant she needed him to be somebody else for her, he would allow it. He was not a complete moron but he would allow it that one night.

She asked him to make her feel alive and he certainly was up for the challenge. He blocked off the fact that she was not as invested as he was and made love to her like he did four years ago. He was familiar with her body and knew how to please her. And please her, he did. She came; he did too. And right after their release, still out of breath, she met his concerned gaze. With tears in her eyes, she apologized.

“I’m sorry,” she said to him in all earnestly. She knew he knew what she just did and was big enough to come clean.

“I understand,” he replied as he tried to brush her tears away.

“I won’t do that again,” she declared to him.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

He held her as she slept, thinking to himself as her scent filled his entire being, he would probably stay even if she did that again. He would be unhappy and miserable, but he was in, neck deep, and flapping his arms, swimming for dear life. Jane had just awoken the Saviour complex in him. Thankfully, true to her word, she never did.

Over the next few weeks, in the midst and because of all the Cardinal murders, he got to know her more intimately and he fell in love with her more deeply than ever before. She was quite easy to love.

Ritchie remembered the first time he told her exactly how he felt about her. It was about a month ago, they were in bed, spent, her brown eyes looking into his with softness and affection. It took some time but she could do that now with so much ease. She could look into his eyes and allow him to look into hers.

“I wish to confess,” he started, rolling her body onto his.

“I don’t think a priest would appreciate confession in your birthday suite,” she quipped mischievously.

“To you,” he smiled.

“In that case, you don’t have to get dressed.”

“You’re a most amazing woman, Jane.”

“That’s not a confession, that’s a fact.”

“I love you.”

And there was silence. The smile left her face and her eyes betrayed regret and concern. She got up, put on his shirt and sat beside him. He leaned against the headboard on a propped up pillow.

“You can’t do that. You shouldn’t do that,” Jane spoke.

“I can’t help it. I can’t choose who I love,” he answered.

“I don’t want to hurt you. You know I can’t love you the same way back.”

“Maybe not right now,” Ritchie was hopeful.

“Maybe not ever,” Jane was pessimistic, “What if it’s not ever? You deserve better.”

“You deserve better. What do you think we’re doing here? Are we passing the time away so we can be with someone better?”

Jane knew he had a point.

“Listen,” Ritchie took her hand in his and lifted her chin up so he could look into her eyes, “Stop worrying that you can’t ever love me back the way I love you. Life’s too short. I could as soon as tomorrow pack up and leave you for a girl named Olga,” he saw her smile, “Or whatever his name is may come back and sweep you off your feet again. That may or may not happen. Let’s just enjoy what we have and be as happy as we can be right now, no what-ifs, no maybes and no regrets.”

She knew he was right. The one maybe Ritchie was hoping for was that she would eventually fall in love with him.

“I don’t want to hear it,” she said.

“Hear what?”

“You know, those words about how you feel.”

He smiled, “You mean you don’t want to hear that I love you? Why not?”

“Well, isn’t it obvious?”

Ritchie frowned. It obviously was not.

“Say it,” she asked him, and repeated when he hesitated, “Say it a few times so you’ll understand what I mean.”

“I love you.”

“Thanks, I care about you too.”

“I love you.”

“Nice weather we’re having.”

“I love you.”

Jane froze and was silent. He got the point.

“Fine, so it feels terrible not hearing you say it back.”

She had this I-told-you-so expression that had grown on him.

“You will let me know when you start feeling that way about me, right?”

“Of course,” Jane replied, “You’ll be the first to know.”

Ritchie had not heard her say that to him yet. And now, Jane’s ‘someone better’, the person she had said goodbye to that first night, was back. Ritchie had never been in such a predicament all his life; definitely unchartered waters. So this was how it felt to be jealous, insanely jealous.

Ritchie knew he behaved like an ass the entire night and made a mental note to apologize to Jane about that. He really could not help reacting to him that way. Ever since Ron showed him that memory a couple of days before the Cardinal put Ron in a coma, Harry Potter’s ghost haunted him.

“That should answer your questions about her and Harry,” Ron said after the memory ended.

Ritchie asked, feeling hurt and angry at the same time, “Why did you show it to me?”

“So you know not to ask her about it anymore,” Ron replied, “And because I have a favour to ask of you.”

Ron took the silvery substance from the Pensieve, bottled it in a phial, and gave the phial of his memory to Ritchie.

“Why are you giving me this? I don’t want it.”

“If something bad happens to me and he comes back, I trust you to know what to do with it.”

Ritchie was annoyed that he was being asked to do this, “If you think I’m going to do Potter any favours, you misjudge me.”

Ron reiterated, “I know you love her and you’re a decent guy. I haven’t seen Harry in years and I don’t know how he feels about her. He could be a complete git by now for all I know. I trust that you will do the right thing when the time comes.”

And now that Harry was back, Ritchie had to make a decision as to what to do with the bloody phial! He would pay a million pounds not to be decent or trustworthy at the moment. He wished he did not see the memory. He wished he could smash the phial. He wished he did not have to choose between what he wanted and the right thing to do.

It was obvious, seeing them together earlier tonight, that she still loved him and it was evident Harry felt the same way about her. That was why he wanted to talk with Jane, or at least allow her to talk to him about Harry. He did not want to regret his decision.

It was one in the morning when he drove into the carport and went into the study, knowing that was where he would find her. Leaving the Thomas file on his desk, he walked over to the couch where Jane had fallen asleep. She was in pyjamas. He took a thick half read file from her lap and scooped her up in his arms, taking her to the bedroom they virtually shared the past month. As he set her down their bed, she stirred.

“You’re back,” she said half asleep, “How did it go?”

“I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

“I smell vomit,” her eyes were still closed, “Is that yours or mine?”

It was a private joke involving five bottles of firewhiskey at the Screeching Moon on a Friday night. He smiled, “Definitely mine. I stepped on some woman’s puke.”

“Can’t wait to hear all about it,” she heard him smile through his voice and she smiled as well. She was a good listener and made all those little things interesting enough to talk about. She made him feel connected.

“Tomorrow. Go back to sleep,” and he kissed her on the forehead and she did as she was told.

XXXXXXXXXX

The 11-year-old was sitting quite uncomfortably outside the Office of the Minister for Magic. There were three important men inside, talking very noisily about He-Who-Must-Not Be-Named and Harry Potter.

“Harry is fine, he is at the Hogwarts Hospital Wing and Madam Pomfrey will take good care of him,” Professor Dumbledore spoke, “There is, however, the matter of the child that is currently sitting outside your office.”

“Miguel Gomez will take care of everything,” Cornelius Fudge, then Minister For Magic said and the doors to his office opened. Professor Dumbledore, Minister Fudge and a thin well-dressed wizard came out, “He will make sure everything will remain confidential.”

“I will not disappoint you, Minister, Professor,” the thin man replied and approached.

“Hi, my name is Miguel. I used to live in foster homes too.”

“I don’t like foster homes,” came a soft timid reply.

“Well, you don’t have to go back if you don’t want to,” Miguel said.

“Really?”

“Really,” and Miguel smiled.

Miguel Gomez was a mentor and a friend but his support for the Cardinal was wavering. He talked about ending it all. He talked about linking the Muggle murders to Granger and the Cardinal disappearing as she rotted in Azkaban. Miguel Gomez did not understand. He needed the Cardinal to get what he wanted and now that he did, he was abandoning the cause.

Why could he not understand? There had to be seven. Seven curses, seven deaths. And it would be sweeter and more rewarding if closure involved getting even with those responsible for Voldemort’s death.

Disclaimer : Harry Potter - JK Rowling's

A/N: I hope HHr shippers can forgive me for making this more difficult for Hermione and Harry.

Chapter 21. The Third Unspeakable

A short, thin man was in his kitchen having very early breakfast and was very concerned. This had gone way beyond what the current Head of the Department of Mysteries wanted to happen.

Miguel Gomez was a very ambitious wizard. He was street smart and manipulative. Both traits helped him climb to the top of the Ministry ranks quickly. Before long, he was the Department of Mysteries second in command, though really that was in name only. He pretty much ran the show; Dorner was merely a figurehead during the last few years.

Then Gomez became impatient. Dorner seemed to want to stay forever and ultimately was in the way of his becoming Minister for Magic. There was also his growing insecurity of this up and coming very bright Muggle witch, Granger, a media favourite, the youngest ever witch to report to the Department Head directly. There was talk that even at her young age there was a political push among the elders in the Wizengamot that she was to be groomed as Dorner’s successor and eventually, in a few years down the road, maybe even Minister for Magic. He needed to act before she became ready.

Gomez was the one who put the seed of special projects in Dorner’s mind. He even suggested what projects and which two other Unspeakables would be perfect to do it. But he had to wait a year into the special projects before putting his plan in motion. It would make it less obvious.

The plan involved a field of study that was precious to his heart, the mythological Cardinal sins. As an orphan he grew up with a lot of Muggle clerics who constantly pounded on him and the other unfortunate unwanted children the dire consequences of sin. His interest in the Cardinal sins grew as his knowledge of magic grew. He read about Merlin and Morgania, how they were supposed to have used their opponents sins against them.

While ruthless and motivated, Gomez knew his limitations. He was a skilled wizard and a knowledgeable Unspeakable, but he was not as smart or as capable as Granger was. Admittedly, he suspected the curses were opportunistic, but was impressed that Granger found out how, when he couldn’t. He had an inkling of how the curses would work but he would not be able to create the spells. Nor did he want to. He could not be remotely involved to C7 to continue his path to the Minister’s position.

From what he knew about Granger, it could be a hard sell to get her working on something like C7. And even if Granger agreed, she had too much sense in her to know that unless absolutely necessary, the curses were to remain in the vaults of the Department. He needed someone like Lowes to even attempt to test and not realize what he was doing. He would get Dorner to assign Lowes C7 knowing he would never be able to do it without help from Granger. And he had to frustrate Granger by giving her Lumos, to get her to create the curses to come up with the counters.

Somehow, he knew Granger would not disappoint him, though it took longer than he expected. It took eight months for her to get the report to Dorner. Unfortunately, to disgrace Dorner, a mere theoretical report was a weak weapon. The murders were necessary. Gomez was not a murderer but he knew someone who had the potential to be one. He introduced the Cardinal to Lowes and was there when Lowes made the Unbreakable vow. He convinced Dorner to share Granger’s report with Lowes and Lowes did the rest.

The plan was to only murder Muggles; filthy sinning Muggles who did not deserve to live anyway. There would be seven cardinal curse murders for maximum impact and newsworthiness, and Gomez actually was excited that he had a part in bringing the myth to life. After the seventh, the Ministry would be informed. Dorner would be disgraced and Granger implicated in the process.

But there was a glitch he did not anticipate. Gomez underestimated how much admiration the Cardinal had for Granger, having had this high regard for her since they attended Hogwarts. With Granger tipped off by the notes, it was a matter of time before the rest of the Ministry found out about the Muggle murders before the seven were completed.

Lowes would not dare say a word but he misjudged Dorner. Dorner shut down C7 and Lumos, and continued his best efforts to sweep it under the rug. He was fighting for political survival and likely buying time. Dorner had turned on Gomez so Dorner had to die before he could find a way to pin the murders on him. The Cardinal, now unhappy at Granger’s rejection, obliged.

The night Dorner died, Lowes had been dead for about a month, and Granger was about to be sent to Azkaban with no reputation left. There would be no need for more murders. Though it was quite unfortunate Dorner told Scrimgeour he chose three Unspeakables, he was able to make a convincing theory so there was really no push from the Minister to find the third one. Everything was perfect, just as he wanted. That was until Granger escaped.

He was livid at the humiliation he endured for that, particularly because he did not know how she did it. It obviously had something to do with Potter’s return. Her escape should not have mattered that much except that now, the Cardinal wanted to follow through with a different plan. Gomez tried to be supportive, but this was going too far. He was getting really impatient with this concept of completing another set of Cardinal murders. There was only so much one could get away with.

“What do you mean Malfoy’s not dead?”

The Cardinal seemed to expect this reaction, “He fought it.”

“But he would have been perfect! Everybody knows Granger hates him! You should have just killed him anyway. What does it matter if they have a wand or not! They are still wizards without them.”

“It just didn’t feel right,” the Cardinal replied.

And now, the Cardinal wanted perfection! Wasting an absolutely good opportunity because Malfoy fought the curse! It didn’t feel right? Either way, it was going to be murder, it would never feel right! His ward had become a monster.

Gomez spoke, “End this now. Forget about the rest. Link Granger to the Muggle murders and let’s get this over with.”

Then he left the Cardinal at their meeting place. That was late last night, and this morning, he picked up an advance copy of the Daily Prophet. Malfoy’s attack was mentioned. But there was another murder.

It was decided. Gomez was going to end this today, without the Cardinal’s blessing, before things got more out of hand. He took out an envelope and emptied it. In it were copies of Granger’s Muggle employment records. There was confirmation that she was working tonight and tonight, Gomez was going to make sure Granger went straight to Azkaban. Or if Gomez was lucky, to her funeral.

XXXXXXXXXX

In the same affluent neighbourhood, a few blocks away at Ritchie’s, Hermione woke up at 5am as usual.

She crashed that night after a shower. She went back to the study hoping to talk to Ritchie when he got back but fell asleep on the couch as she was trying to catch up on what she missed. She was so exhausted she did not even realize he had taken her to his bedroom until he set her down on the bed.

She was fading in and out of consciousness; hearing him get into the shower and feeling him get into bed with her. He cuddled her from behind as he had countless of times before and she slept in his arms as Harry thought she would.

“I love you,” she heard him say, actually whisper, thinking she was already asleep, just before she dozed off.

Hermione did tell him that she did not want to hear him say it. So, for the past month, she endured hearing it while he thought she was asleep. Truth be told, before Harry’s return, she liked to hear him say that he loved her. Before Harry’s return, she needed to hear him say he loved her. She did not want to hear him say it because she still, no matter how much she wanted to, could not say the words back and felt bad about it.

She looked at the man sleeping soundly beside her. In the last two months, they cared for each other, they enjoyed each others’ company, they filled each others’ physical needs and Ritchie said he loved her enough for the both of them. Ritchie knew someone had hurt her so bad she could not make the same emotional investment, but hoped that someday she could feel safe to love again and that it would be for him.

Admittedly, Hermione used Ritchie that night two months ago. She was not proud of what she did. Her life was spiralling into a bottomless pit for the longest time and she felt like she was dying. She was very lonely; in the last few months she had alienated her friends, with the exception of Ron, and her one sanctuary, her work, inspired her no more. In fact, at that time, she was in the process of finishing her minor projects and was going to leave the Ministry. Had it not been for the Cardinal using her final major contribution to magic for murder, she would have faded away just as Harry had. And the final straw to the imminent gloom she was facing was that she felt powerless to stop what the Cardinal was going to do. It was a moment in her life when she needed to feel good about herself and unfortunately self-indulgent Hermione, a side to her that was fairly new, was in charge.

She was glad it was Ritchie and not some stranger, or many strangers, considering that once she sat at the bar at the Screeching Moon, Tom the bartender giving her the pros and cons of what she was going to do, very tempted to accept propositions for meaningless sex. She thought about the really horrible experience of dating Hector Aimes, one of Ron’s co-workers, for which she told Ron he was banned from ever setting her up on a blind date again. By the end of the very short night she had received a most extensive education on musculoskeletal anatomy and would never look at well-muscled men the same way again. That night of her escape, she had no qualms whatsoever cursing Aimes for being her worst date ever. And not that she would ever admit it to Ron, she actually, very fleetingly, considered asking him. That would have been really bad.

So, yes, that night with Ritchie was to fill a desperate physical need to feel wanted, to feel important to someone, and to finally exorcise what she thought was the final remaining Harry Potter demon needing closure; to make love to Harry one last time. It helped a lot that Ritchie was attractive, that she knew and liked him in the past, and that Ritchie already knew her intimately.

It could have been just what she told Ritchie it could be; she made it clear to him that she had nothing to give and was not looking for a long-term relationship. But despite her pushing him away, he persisted. He asked her out again, and again, and again. Ritchie actually saved her from herself. He stopped the self-destructive mode she was in. She was a mess when he found her and she would be eternally grateful to him for helping her turn it all around.

Ritchie was supportive, in fact more supportive than Ron, about her wanting to live a Muggle life. She couldn’t stay in the Magical World. It reminded her too much of everything she was sad about; it reminded her too much of Harry. He was helping her with the transition, which was taking so long because she still needed to work at the Ministry until they could catch the Cardinal.

Hermione liked being with him because he made her feel wanted and he made her feel important. But she was torn. She felt guilty not feeling for him the same way he felt about her. She could not allow herself to fall in love again.

Two weeks ago, Ron gave her some advice about him; unsolicited but well-meaning advice. It was late night after their encounter with the Cardinal two weeks ago. She and Ron were at the Screeching Moon, having a few drinks and waiting for Ritchie to finish paperwork over at the Yard.

Tom, the bartender, had just brought a second bottle of firewhiskey at their table and Ron was starting to feel less inhibited, not that he ever was before with her but he sometimes came up with the most odd things to say after a few drinks.

“So, Ritchie got stunned. Good for him.”

“What?” she exclaimed, “What exactly was good about that?”

“Now, he’s one of us,” Hermione just shook her head, not even wanting to ask what he meant, thinking, it must be some guy fraternity thing.

“We should have taken him to St. Mungo’s,” she thought out loud.

“He should be fine. It was just a stunner,” Ron tried to reassure her.

“He’s a Muggle; he’s not used to them,” Hermione reasoned.

Ron’s eyes rolled up briefly, “I’m a Wizard; I’m never going to get used to them. Do you think he would have preferred a more Muggle traditional gunshot?”

“And he’s gone back to the Yard! He really should get some rest, right?”

“Will you stop? He’s fine; sore but fine. You’re starting to sound like his mother.”

“Ron, you’ve never met his mother,” she pointed out.

“Oh, right. And you have,” Ron realized, then said, after a brief pause, “So, are you starting to sound like his mother?”

And Ron started laughing causing Hermione to do the same. It wasn’t even that funny but between the firewhiskey and all the events of the day, it was just one of those moments.

Ron continued, more seriously, “I hear he asked you to move in with him and you turned him down.”

She replied, “He’s going too fast for me.”

“Perhaps, you should tell him to slow down. The question is, slow or fast, have you decided where you’re going with him?”

“What do you mean?” she was just hoping he was not asking her the question she had been asking herself since Ritchie confessed he loved her.

Ron made an observation in a very un-Ronish kind of way, “You’ve been going out with him for over a month, you practically live at his place, and yet I get the sense that he doesn’t really know what he is to you. I just want to know if it’s not going anywhere so I won’t bother hanging out with him. Kind of like you not wanting to make idle talk with my girlfriends, which I prefer by the way. I don’t know what he is to you. So I’m asking, what is he to you?”

She looked at him, and said with all honesty “I don’t know what he is to me.”

“Maybe it’s about time you gave it more thought. He’s a decent guy, Hermione. Pardon the pun but you should stop dicking around with him.”

“Whatever happened to ‘just don’t fall too hard this time’?” she asked, remembering their conversation when this first all started.

“Notice I didn’t just say ‘don’t fall’. I know this was about moving on and you’ve had it bad for so long so I’m not going to criticize how you chose to heal. Frankly, I would have been less concerned if you had a brief run of nameless, faceless men. But what you’re doing with Ritchie right now is going to end up hurting you again.”

“How do you figure that?” she asked.

Ron’s said, “You and Ritchie kind of remind of a couple Melissa and I saw last weekend at this Muggle Park for Amusement.”

Hermione, on instinct, found something not good about Ron’s latest relationship, “Do I really want to hear this? I hope you and the rookie Kingsley trusted you with were at the Amusement Park on official Ministry business.”

He ignored her, “There was this couple in line at the roller coaster ride just in front of us, arguing, guy raring to go on, chick really not so looking forward to it, previous bad experience she says. Standing in line, he was in a battle of keeping her on it. She had so many chances to bail but she was starting to believe this could be better than the first time. Finally, they were at the front of the line for the next train and now there was a decision to be made. Guy wants to be in the first car and chick wants to be in the last car. Which car do they take?”

“The last car, of course.”

“You’d think, but the guy is bold, feels miffed it’s been all about the chick all day and tells the chick, listen, I’m sitting at the front because I really like it there and so you know it’s not so bad. You can decide if you want to join me or not.”

“She didn’t.”

Ron nodded, “You remind me of the chick, on that last car that’s still chugging and climbing towards that first anticipated big drop. You had all the chances in the world to not go on the ride but you just realized that you’re actually on it and there is no bailing out now. You just saw Ritchie’s car go over, and you know yours will eventually follow. You’re scared, trying to hang on, hoping it will be better and it’s just a pity you’re not in the same car to share the experience.”

“Tom must have something else in this firewhiskey,” Hermione commented, “So what happened?”

“To what?”

“To the couple.”

“Don’t know. I think they had a row and broke up.”

“A fitting end to a ghastly story,” she said and they chinked their glasses against each other, “Just to let you know, I am so not that chick on the last car.”

Ron agreed, “Not yet, but eventually you will be if you don’t make a decision. Right now you’re that chick near the start of the line and you’re letting people pass through because you haven’t decided whether you should go on the coaster or not. You have to make a choice soon. Are you getting off the line, are you going to stay in that last car or will it be into the same car with him?”

“It’s such a difficult decision to make,” she confessed.

“How do you feel about him?”

“I enjoy his company. I admire and respect him as a person and he makes me feel good about myself.”

Ron added, “You don’t argue about little things, he’s supportive and allows you to be yourself. What else do you want from him? What’s wrong with him? Is he bad in bed?”

She blushed, “Ritchie and I never had a problem with that. There’s nothing wrong with him.”

“I certainly hope you’re not still moping around for Harry to come back.”

“I’m over Harry. He’s not coming back. I am not moping around.”

“So you keep saying. If you’re so over him why can’t you tell Ritchie about him? Should I say it again?” Ron answered before she could protest, “Harry could be dead. He could have fallen in love with someone else. He might have a wife and kids. He might not love you anymore.”

“It’s not about that. I just don’t feel that way about Ritchie.”

“Which way? Are you talking about how you felt with Harry? The I-can’t-live-can’t breathe-can’t-sleep-without-you stupid kind of way?”

She nodded.

“That’s okay, you shouldn’t. He’s not Harry so be fair to him and stop comparing how you feel about them. How many times do you think people fall seriously in love like that in a lifetime?”

She shrugged.

“Do you think you can go through falling in love the way you fell for Harry ten more times?”

“Definitely not.”

“Sure, because after the first earth shattering one that obviously left a sour taste in your mouth because you’re not with them anymore or never was at all, everything else will pale in comparison. And it will be different each time. We’re not meant to fall in love that way over and over again.”

Hermione said under her breath, “I certainly hope you’re right about that.”

“I think you care about him more that you realize. How come you haven’t gotten rid of him like you did me?”

“You were quite annoying. He’s kind of nice to have around.”

“Thanks, I appreciate the candour,” Hermione had this frown and Ron knew was she was thinking, “I’m going to be honest with you because you’re my best friend and I love you dearly. You might believe you’re waiting to feel that overwhelming desire to be with Ritchie for you to invest more of yourself into your relationship; actually, it all boils down to one of two things. Either you’re still moping around for Harry to come back, which you tell me you’re not, or you’re a coward.”

“A coward?”

“It’s scary putting yourself out there again, exposed and giving another human being power to break you, kind of like what Harry unintentionally did. Ritchie is out there for you and if you don’t decide soon you’re definitely going to break him and he’ll disappear from your life. That would be such a pity because you’ve been more fun and happier with him around. He’s kind of grown on me.”

“I can’t fall in love with him.”

“You can, you just don’t want to because you’re a coward, or you still want Harry back.”

“I’m a coward,” she said, firm this wasn’t about pining after Harry at all.

“If you do take that ride, I think you should decide if you just want to screw Ritchie with no strings attached whatsoever and sit at the back, which, frankly I don’t think you can do because you’re not the type, or make him really a part of your life. Personally, I think you should pick number two. He didn’t say anything to me but I can tell he’s madly in love with you.”

“But I don’t want him madly in love with me. I’m not madly in love with him.”

“It’s not your choice. That’s kind of a stupid reason to not allow the man peace of mind. Believe me. He’d rather be with a woman he’s crazy about and you’d rather be the woman he’s crazy about. So either end his suffering by cutting him loose or give it a go.”

Ron had been right, of course. And that night she decided with some trepidation it was going to be a front car roller coaster ride with Ritchie. He was ecstatic when she told him and said he’d offer to get stunned more if that meant more moments like that.

Then of course, Harry came.

She got up slowly so as not to disturb Ritchie, pausing briefly when he stirred. He would wake up in a few minutes. It was their morning routine. She would go down to the kitchen and make them a pot of coffee, and then wait for him out in the backyard porch, to talk until they had to get ready for work.

She was sure that she still loved Harry, and it was as strong as it was when they made love that night two years ago. When Harry kissed her last night in her apartment, she was surprised not only by how he did it but also by her equally raw response. The moment his lips touched and devoured hers she totally forgot who they were and lost all control of her faculties. How could one person affect her so? Thankfully and regrettably, Aimes showed up and they couldn’t continue what they were doing.

Clearly, she could not just leave Ritchie for Harry. Surely, Harry did not expect her to do that just because he was back. But her reckless side, the same self-indulgent voice that drove her to Ritchie in the first place, kept telling her ‘why not’. She really did not have the time or energy to sort this out, but she knew she had to.

On cue, Ritchie came through the back door, in his pajamas still half asleep.

“Are you okay?” he had a worried look on his face.

“I’ve been better,” she smiled at the handsome man who sat beside her. He took a sip of coffee from her cup as she offered.

He smiled back, put his arm around her and kissed her on the forehead.

“It’s a bit chilly this morning.”

She conjured a blanket to appear beside her, careful so he would not notice and wrapped it around them.

“Something’s troubling you.”

“You mean besides being a fugitive, having Ron in the hospital and trying to catch a serial killer?”

They both smiled.

“I’m sorry about the asinine behaviour last night,” he remembered to apologize.

“It’s okay. I’ve never seen you that way before,” she replied.

“I’ve never been that way before,” he admittedly sheepishly.

“I’m sorry you had to feel that way,” she felt somewhat responsible.

“It’s not your fault, not really.”

“I can’t stay here, Ritchie,” she finally said. “It’s only a matter of time before your Minister caves in to our Minister and my picture is going to be on your most wanted list. I don’t want to cause you trouble. It will be bad if you get pulled from this case.”

“I had a feeling you’d say that. You don’t think you can hide out somewhere in this bloody mansion?” He was joking. She smiled and shook her head. “Where will you go?”

“I’ll be around. You can always call me.”

“Maybe Harry will let you stay at his place. Isn’t it supposed to be unplottable or something like that?”

“I’d rather not stay there.”

“Why not? At least I know you’ll be safe.”

“I’ll be fine Ritchie,” Hermione wondered if he was trying to make up for his behaviour the night before. Did he realize what he was asking her to do? “We just have to catch this creep faster.”

Ritchie was staring at her. She finally asked.

“What?”

“Something is different about you.”

She brushed it off.

“Is it the I’m-on-the-run-from-the-law difference?”

He shook his head, “Tell me when you’re ready, okay?”

If only he was less nice this would not be so hard. She had to tell him. And after telling him everything he was smart enough to know what that meant.

She took a big breath in and out, “I am ready. I’m finally ready to talk about Harry.”

“That’s great,” Ritchie countered though Hermione felt he was less eager to hear about it than she thought he would be. He said, “We probably need more coffee.”

She took the empty cup from him and watched his face as coffee appeared in it. She used a refilling spell. Ritchie was not surprised, not at all.

“Thanks,” he said as he took the cup from her and took a sip, “And after we talk about Harry, maybe you can tell me all about your escape. I’ve been dying to ask you about it all night.”

Disclaimer : Harry Potter - JK Rowling's. Thanks for making such inspiring characters. And thanks to all those who were kind enough to submit reviews. They keep me writing.

Chapter 22 – A Pleasant Distraction From A Busy Schedule

It was seven in the morning and Harry did not get much sleep. Last night, he debated and then decided against calling Hermione to tell her about Miguel Gomez. There was no point making her lose sleep over it too. They would talk about him the morning.

Though Harry’s gut feeling said Gomez was involved, he was innocent until proven otherwise. The most logical next step was to talk to Gomez and ask him about the Muggle murder victims. They would also have to ask him about the other two foster care kids and whether he knew them. The problem was that if Gomez was half as good an Unspeakable as Hermione was, it would be unlikely for him to have any trouble hiding information.

Obtaining Ministry information about such a high-ranking official was also going to be challenging. Such records required a certain level of access, probably only the Minister himself would have clearance. And if Gomez was indeed involved, one could only guess who else in the Ministry was.

He showered and dressed. Picking up the mobile phone Ritchie gave him where he left it last night, he hesitated, wondering if this was too early to be calling her. When did that ever matter? You can call on her anytime you need to. Also, he knew she was typically up at five in the morning.

His thoughts last night as he tossed and turned in bed naturally progressed from Gomez to Hermione. He tried to remember all the things they had said to each other since his return and recognized that there was still a lot to be said. He resolved that he was not going to let the day end without telling her in no uncertain words how he felt about her. It would take no more than a minute, maybe two. Surely, he could steal her away for two minutes of privacy and have an uninterrupted and meaningful conversation. And though it was beyond his control, he wished she would at least let him know where he stood.

Harry assumed she cared about him the same way he cared about her, but at the moment his confidence in that belief was wavering. He thought, Hermione never gave up anything for him; she gave up magic for Ritchie. Hermione spent one night with him; she and Ritchie spent so many nights with each other it sickened him just thinking about it. Maybe he was just too optimistic about the whole thing. She did choose not to stay with him last night.

Phone in hand and staring intently at all the various buttons, he thought it shouldn’t be that complicated to call her. Without doing anything, Hermione’s name came up on the display, indicating where she was, and the phone started dialing her number. Ritchie’s voice answered before he could think about why it did that on its own. The familiar hot sensation overcame him in addition to the sharp stabbing pain in his chest.

Before he could squash it, the ugly green monster spoke for him, “Maybe you should tap her phone, too.”

Harry should have been more prepared that Ritchie would answer. After all, the phone display did say she was at his house.

“Oh, it’s you,” his response was dry, “Hang on, I’ll get her.”

Harry listened as he heard him walk some distance and open a door. He could hear splattering water in the background, the sound resonating within the restrained space. The shower shut off just as the door opened.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were done,” he heard Ritchie say, the words echoing in the confines of the bathroom.

“I am. Could you pass me the towel, please?” There was a pause. “Are you heading off?”

“Early team meeting. I’ll put a few men to tag Gray but I can’t promise we won’t pick him up. I’ll see you later,” Harry heard a kiss, “By the way, Harry’s on the phone for you.”

“Thanks,” then her voice came over the phone, Harry thought somewhat perky, “Harry.”

He was still smarting from hearing her conversation with Ritchie and though not consciously meaning to, Harry heard his voice say with a hint of disparagement, “You must have had a good night.”

It still annoyed Harry how there were some things he was inept at, foremost being his inability to control his temper. He was insanely envious of Ritchie and spiteful that Hermione just couldn’t leave him. Why did it seem so difficult for her to do that? His hope that Hermione did not recognize his sarcasm was quickly quashed.

“A good morning to you, too,” she replied, the cheer in her voice gone and then she was all business, “Listen, something’s come up. We have to meet this morning. St Mungo’s, in half an hour?”

He agreed, “One of the foster kids on the list Ritchie gave me last night is Miguel Gomez.”

She already knew, “I found out this morning, too,” then she said with concern, “The other one is Dean, Ginny’s Dean.”

Harry could not believe it, “Dean Gray is Dean Thomas? It can’t be.”

“I read the file but I can’t believe he’s involved in all this. We’ll talk more when we meet. Ginny should be at St. Mungo’s. See you in half an hour.”

And she said goodbye.

As he put the phone in his pocket, there was a knock on his door. He almost forgot that after he saw Miguel Gomez’ name, he sent Hedwig out last night with notes to Tonks and Remus, and Kingsley. He figured, having this conversation at the Ministry could be challenging and might not go unnoticed.

Only Remus and Kingsley could come. Tonks, Harry heard, was at the site of the Cardinal’s latest murder. It happened late last night and the victim was someone familiar. Severus Snape was dead. It seemed surreal. Somehow he thought Snape would live forever.

Kingsley said solemnly, “Hermione was seen leaving his house the other day. Have you seen her? She should turn herself in.”

“It’s not her, Kingsley.”

“At this point, all the evidence points to her,” Kingsley explained, “Unless you have proof someone else is doing this, you can tell everyone she’s innocent but the courts will still send her to Azkaban.”

“I don’t blame her for not wanting to go to Azkaban. We need her so we catch the real murderer,” he said to Kingsley, “A few weeks ago, Ron and Hermione asked for help to investigate the Muggle serial murders. They approached you and Tonks about it.”

Kingsley denied it, “I don’t remember that at all.”

Remus replied, “Dora did not mention anything about that. It’s odd but a few weeks ago, I swear something was not quite right with her.”

“How do you mean?” Harry asked.

“She was so forgetful, and I remember because we had quite a few arguments about it.”

“Now that you mention that, I felt the same way. Like I was missing minutes of my day,” Kingsley paused and frowned in thought, finally suggesting, “If they did tell us, our memories were likely altered. Dorner was an expert in memory alteration charms. Was he involved in this? Was this why he was murdered?”

Remus added, “Dora was quite upset about the frequent meetings he was calling. Called them a colossal waste of time.”

“What is this about, Harry?” Kingsley finally asked; more open to what Harry had to say and to the possibility of Hermione’s innocence.

Harry proceeded to talk to them about Project Lumos, the Muggle murders, Lowes and Dorner. He showed them the last part of Ron’s memory from their encounter with the Cardinal two weeks ago. The sight of Ron’s spells bouncing off the Cardinal was their main concern. Harry told them about how Gomez and Dean were linked to the Muggle murders.

Harry suggested resurrecting the Order, “We need to at least arm as many wizards and witches with the counter curses.”

Remus spoke, “You might want to proceed with caution. Hermione is a fugitive and it will be prudent to limit the number of individuals who know what this is all about and that it involves her.”

Kingsley agreed, “We can meet with her tonight and discuss how to proceed. McGonagall will want to come, Moody, Tonks, maybe a few of the newer Aurors. What about the Weasleys? With Dean possibly involved that might be a risk.”

“They’re family,” Harry said firmly, “I can’t imagine not involving them. And they have a lot at stake to get to the bottom of this.”

“Have a talk with Ginny and Dean. I suggest, separately at first. She may not know,” Kingsley suggested, “Then you can decide.”

“What about Gomez?” Remus asked.

"I want to talk with him," Harry said.

“I’ll see what I can dig up, first,” Kingsley answered, “He knows the right people. He may not be involved, but if he is, he’s well connected, resourceful and smart. I suspect it will be difficult to implicate him in anything. But, you're right. We should talk to him. I'll set up a meeting for sometime this afternoon.”

They agreed to meet at Harry’s house ten o’clock that night. Just before they left, Kingsley mentioned he had not heard of the existence of the confidentiality spell Harry was asking him about. It was supposed to guard the Lumos report; it obviously failed because Dorner decided to share what he read with Lowes. Though it did not matter that much, he still wanted to find out why Hermione needed Ron’s help to perform this seemingly fictitious spell. Or maybe it wasn’t fictitious at all. Harry would have to ask Hermione about that.

Harry looked at his watch and realized he was late. He was supposed to meet Hermione five minutes ago.

At St. Mungo’s, Hermione was in Ron’s room and had just finished his therapy. She kept her eyes closed for a bit longer, trying to process the events of the evening. Healer Frances was just outside, keeping watch to ensure her freedom as St. Mungo’s was crawling with Ministry law enforcement that morning. There had been two high profile incidents the night before; an assault-robbery and a murder. It was eerie that she knew both victims.

One of the two victims was the occupant of the private room across the hallway. The fact that it was Draco Malfoy troubled her. He was brought into St. Mungo’s late last night. From what Healer Frances overheard from the Aurors, it was suspected that robbers attacked Malfoy. They found his house ransacked and a few valuable items were found missing.

Hermione had a feeling this was not a robbery. It was just too much of a coincidence. She wanted to ask Malfoy herself what happened, particularly after she found out that Professor Snape was dead.

From Healer Frances’ description of the Professor’s state, the Cardinal killed him with the envy curse. Most curious was the fact that the skull and snake figure on the Professor’s left arm had been carved out, somehow telling Hermione that the Cardinal thought him undeserving of the Voldemort mark. But was the Professor murdered because of his status on her enabled list or was it because of his past? Again, they had to find out if the Professor and Lyle had connections with their three suspects, which Hermione now realized included one of their friends.

There was also the note in Hermione’s handwriting saying that the next victim was going to be family. It was common knowledge to anyone who was close to Hermione, or anyone who read the Unauthorized Biography of Hermione Granger, that she no longer had any living relatives. The Cardinal must mean one of the Weasleys. She shuddered at the thought, hoping she was mistaken. Or did the Cardinal mean one of his?

Healer Frances said that Ginny had called in sick today. Whatever it was that she and Dean argued about last night must have been serious and the fact that Hermione had been out of touch with Ginny and the Weasleys now haunted her. As far as she knew, Dean and Ginny were happy, and it was unthinkable that Dean could be the Cardinal or an accomplice. The loyal Gryffindor in her insisted that there had to be a logical explanation to explain his innocence.

The only other circumstantial evidence that was troubling her aside from Dean having some connection with the Muggle victims was the Cardinal’s notes, which were written in her own handwriting. Someone who was proficient at forgery wrote them. She remembered that years ago in Hogwarts, Ron, Harry and herself spent an afternoon in the Gryffindor common room watching in awe at how easily Dean could imitate anyone’s handwriting to perfection, including hers. Right about now was when she needed that logical explanation.

She had to tell Ginny everything about the Cardinal and she had to talk to Dean before Ritchie’s men could pick him up. She did not tell Ritchie but Hermione suspected the only reason Dean’s file wound up with Ritchie was to implicate him in the Muggle murders. Dean’s capture was imminent; it would appease the Muggle public that someone had been arrested. What she wasn’t clear about was what Dean’s connection was to the murders and how the Cardinal planned to link her to Dean.

Then there was Miguel Gomez. Gomez was known throughout the Ministry as someone who wanted Dorner’s job on his way to Scrimgeour’s job. He ran the social circles and, in a way, just like her, got what he wanted all the time. She knew he was raised a Muggle and got the impression from how he dressed and lived that he was wealthy. He certainly had a taste for the finer things in life.

But aside from that, Hermione realized that she did not really know him that well. They were never involved in the same projects and the few times she attended their departmental meetings, they never spoke. The first time he talked to her was after her arrest while she was at St.Mungo’s when it was clear to her that Gomez had already decided her guilt.

Today, was going to be a busy day. She had to talk to Ginny and Dean. She was to meet with Neville at Hogwarts to see if they could track down T.M.Didler. There were Ron’s sessions, the meeting with Remus, Tonks and Kingsley, what to do about Gomez, and Harry’s first lesson on how to perform the curses. She also had to be at the University Bookstore between three and nine tonight. And sometime between all of that and eluding Ministry officials, she probably should plan to have a few uninterrupted minutes to talk with Harry.

Her eyes were still shut when she felt Harry come into the room and stand a couple of feet beside her. Healer Frances knew she was expecting him. She smiled to herself as she suddenly felt the air supply in her vicinity dwindle. It was weird how that once annoying and undesirable feeling was now a welcome one.

She opened her eyes and turned to greet him.

“Hi.”

“Healer Frances just left to attend to another patient. How’s Ron?” he asked her, barely making eye contact as he spoke.

‘Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed,’ she thought, disappointed that not only was he grumpy, he made no attempt to come closer to her. A hug would have been nice.

“He seems the same. How was your night?”

“You should know the answer to that,” he said with a smidgen of sarcasm.

Hermione suspected Harry probably was still sore about what he overheard on the phone. Last night, Ritchie had taken home a lot more of Ginny’s vomit that he thought he did, stinking up the shower as he used it. Ritchie wanted to leave it for the help but the words ‘house elf’ and ‘rights’ just kept popping up in her mind she had to do something about it. She was cleaning the shower to remove the stench when Ritchie handed her the phone. By the time she realized how that exchange might have sounded to Harry, it was too late to explain. Not that there was a need to explain if it did happen the way it sounded. No wonder Ritchie had this satisfied smile on his face on his way out.

She chose not to respond, not wanting to get into an argument and instead just looked him in the eye and waited, half expecting a rant but hoping he would choose a more peaceful resolution. Having another spat with him was not only undesirable, it was definitely not on her tight schedule.

Harry backed down and apologized.

“I’m sorry. The past couple of days, it’s just been difficult,” he explained. “I couldn’t sleep last night. I kept thinking about Gomez.”

“Oh?” Hermione didn’t quite expect him to have a sleepless night about Gomez, “Really?”

“Yes, really,” he replied, then recanted, “Well, actually, no. At first I was thinking about Gomez. That led me to thinking about you and then thinking about us. I tossed and turned thinking about you with Ritchie last night, feeling equally green with envy and red with rage.”

“The Cardinal will have no qualms about using any emotion against you. You really should stop feeling that way,” she said, showing concern.

“I can’t help what I feel,” he said calmly, moving closer to her until their bodies were almost touching, “Particularly not when it involves you. We need to talk, Hermione. We need to talk about us.”

Being that close to Harry made Hermione become so much more aware of their breathing and it was difficult to think of anything else but to consciously will her lungs to breath in and breath out. She was drowning in the sea of green that now held her eyes captive. She saw his lips moving, something about needing to talk. A fleeting thought came and went and she nodded slightly in agreement, not sure if Harry detected her answer at all and not sure what her answer was about. Her heart was pounding in her chest so hard she could hear it in her ears and the butterflies in her stomach were having a wild party.

‘You can’t help what you feel about him, either. Try stopping that,’ she thought to herself.Maybe Harry could, but she definitely would not be able to carry a coherent conversation with him being that close. She took a step back, hoping he did not notice.

“I kept thinking about what happened in your apartment, two years ago and then again last night. How it was so clear to me that you wanted to…”

As Harry struggled to find the right term, Hermione went through it herself, ‘Shag? Be intimate? Copulate? Have sex?’

“Make love?” she finally offered, quite content with her choice.

“Yes, thanks. When we got to Ritchie’s house, I was surprised that you followed all these rules to please him…” Hermione tried to interrupt but he wouldn’t let her, “No, let me finish. Then after thoroughly kissing me goodnight, you did not hesitate declining when I begged you to come with me. Instead, you chose to spend the night with him. I thought, why shouldn’t you choose him? All we had was that one night and with Ritchie you have a relationship. And then this morning, when I called, I hated it that Ritchie answered and I hated it that I could picture him walking in and seeing you naked in the shower, probably not for the first time. Hermione, I haven’t even seen you naked in the shower!”

Hermione didn’t know whether to laugh or be sorry, “Harry, I wasn’t naked and I certainly hope this is about something more than wanting to see me naked in the shower more times than Ritchie has.”

Harry sighed, “The thing is, I have absolutely no right to feel that way. You don’t have a commitment with me; you have one with Ritchie. You’ve spent months with him; we had one night. I know how I feel about you but I may have just assumed you felt the same way about me. And I understand why you would choose him over me. You said it yourself. It’s not a contest; I can’t compete with him.”

‘How could he not know it’s the other way around?’

Harry paused and looked at her with sadness in his green eyes, “I love you, Hermione. I’ve felt this way since our last year at Hogwarts and I will always feel this way. I tried so hard but I can’t not love you. It just hurts to realize over and over again that I can’t be with the woman I love. And it hurts even more every time she chooses to be with someone else.”

Hermione answered with tears in her eyes, “You really should stop jumping to conclusions.”

“What do you mean?”

“You should stick around long enough so I don’t chose to be with someone else.”

“Tell me how you feel about me. I want to hear you say it.”

“Harry, words are not going to be nearly enough to describe how I feel about you,” then she watched him look at her.

His fingers lightly touched her face as he tucked some stray brown curls behind her ear, sending a shockwave of electricity throughout her body. Was he aware that he was driving her crazy? Hermione moved closer, slowly taking her mouth closer to his, noticing gladly that Harry was having a bit of trouble breathing, too.

“Are we done talking about us?” Harry asked her, dreamily.

“I don’t know, are we?” then she thought, ‘Please say, yes.’

“I guess we could do this first and talk again later,” she heard him say just before her lips touched his.

Hermione closed her eyes, pictured Harry’s face and savoured each and every minute detail of their soft tender kiss, different from anything they had shared before. For the first time it felt totally right. There was no urgency and no other ultimate reason for it. It was just what it was; a kiss between two people who loved each other just wanting to show the other how they felt.

Hermione noticed she was less aware of her pounding heart and her breathing difficulties. The butterflies in her stomach were still there but seemingly appeased by what they were doing. Had she known kissing Harry this way would help, she would have stopped avoiding him and done it sooner. A wave of euphoria caused a smile to involuntarily form on Hermione’s mouth and Harry’s did the same, ending their kiss.

Harry spoke first, they were still in each other’s arms and beaming, “If you don’t mind, I’d really like to do this more often.”

“I don’t mind at all but I do have one rule about kissing,” she replied, quite seriously.

“Just one?” Harry feigned disappointment and chuckled.

“I don’t kiss in public.”

“Not even in front of family or friends?”

She followed his gaze towards Ron and answered, “With some exceptions.”

“I think I can live with that,” he pulled her close and they kissed again.

It took a few minutes before Hermione could convince herself, and then Harry, to end the unexpected but very pleasant diversion from her tight schedule. There was a lot to do, foremost was finding out what really happened to Malfoy.

“Malfoy is in the room across,” she said.

“What happened to him?” Harry asked.

She told him.

“You think it was the Cardinal and that Malfoy fought the curse,” Harry read her mind, “Is his condition like Ron’s?”

“On the contrary,” Hermione answered, “He’s awake and giving all his Healers hell. Apparently, save for some minor bruising and not remembering what happened yesterday, he’s fine.”

Harry told her about his conversation with Remus and Kingsley.

“Ten tonight should be fine,” she said thinking she should have time to come back and see Ron after the bookstore closed tonight, “We have to talk with Ginny and Dean this morning. I’m meeting Neville and Professor McGonagall at Hogwarts about our missing enabled in a couple of hours and I may not have time to see them before tonight.”

“So, what do you want to do with Malfoy?”

“Let’s talk to him.”

Hermione implanted some diversionary spells to get rid of the other occupants in Malfoy’s room. They watched as healers emptied and when the coast was clear, walked across the hallway. They sealed his room and closed all the blinds.

“Potter and Granger. For a moment there I thought I died and went straight to hell,” Malfoy said as he turned and saw who his visitors were. As Hermione said, save for a bruise under his right eye, he looked well.

Harry’s temper flared before Hermione could stop him, “Who did this to you Malfoy? I’ll make sure to thank them and maybe suggest that next time, they should just send you there.”

Malfoy came back, “Not even back a week and already aiding and abetting fugitives? Still above the law are you?”

Hermione had to put an end to it, “Boys, stop! Draco, we need your help. We need to find out who attacked you.”

Malfoy folded his arms across his chest, “I don’t remember. The Aurors said they were robbers.”

“We don’t think they were robbers,” she said to him, “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Opening the door and seeing you,” he said to Hermione, then added quickly, “Don’t worry, I did not tell anyone.”

“Why didn’t you?” she asked, surprised.

“Because I know it isn’t you,” Malfoy said impatiently, “I remember the note you sent me that we were to meet and I have brief bits and pieces of reading your theory on the Cardinal curses. We met yesterday, didn’t we?”

Hermione nodded, then Harry spoke, “It seems like whoever did this obliviated you and did not do a good job of it.”

“The healers have tried to bring yesterday back without success,” then he turned to Hermione, “Can you do it Granger? Can you bring the memory back?”

Hermione shook her head, “I can’t. Once a memory is erased you can’t have it back. But if you will let me, I can look for vestiges, ghosts of the memory and try to see what it was. We have to do it before you acquire new memories which may overwrite them.”

Malfoy laughed, “Nice try. I’m not letting you into my head.”

Hermione said, less nicely, “Do you think I’m really interested in anything else in that pathetic mind of yours?”

Malfoy was still having doubts, “If this is about getting back at me for your humiliation during interrogation…”

This time it was Harry’s turn, “From what I saw, she humiliated you.”

After some thought and a lot more attitude, Malfoy agreed. On her instruction, Malfoy concentrated on his last memory, the memory of her at his doorstep. She performed Legilimency on him.

Hermione looked into his mind and saw her come into his house. They talked and she left. Then she started seeing the snippets of memory Malfoy had reading about the curses and counter curses. There was knocking at his door but Malfoy wasn’t answering it.

“Get up, Draco! Open the door!” she said to Malfoy, looking into him more intently. Still there was no response. She spoke to him in his head, “Let him in!”

And Hermione saw it, the remnant of the memory that had been erased; Dean at Malfoy’s doorstep followed by total darkness; fleeting moments of the faceless Cardinal throwing curses at him. She would not have believed it had she not seen it herself. She broke eye contact.

“Well? Did you see it?” Malfoy asked.

“It was definitely the Cardinal,” she said softly and as she looked at Harry, he knew there was something else.

What is it?

Dean was at his door.

Are you sure?

We spent seven years at Hogwarts with Dean. I think I would know if it wasn’t him because I wish it wasn’t him.

Hermione told Malfoy to get in touch with Harry once he was well enough to test the curses and they went back into Ron’s room.

“We need to talk to Ginny sooner,” Hermione said, “She and the twins could be in danger.”

Harry still could not believe it, “It’s Dean. He wouldn’t harm Ginny or the twins.”

“I know. But it’s not Dean I’m concerned about,” Hermione took out her phone, stared at the numbers and it connected to Ritchie’s phone, “Hi, it’s me. We just spoke with Malfoy. Dean was at his house after I left yesterday. We need to talk to him, can you arrange it?” She paused, and Harry could hear Ritchie’s voice, then Hermione started shaking her head and said heatedly, “I thought you were going to wait! … Fine!”

She hung up on Ritchie.

“What?” Harry asked.

“It’s Dean. Ritchie’s men picked him up a few minutes ago on direct orders from his Chief. They have him in a local Muggle prison.”

Harry was worried, “The Ministry is always informed once a wizard gets booked at a Muggle prison. It doesn’t make sense. I’m guessing he needed Dean to be your connection to the Muggles who were murdered. But doing this now will force the Muggle Minister to have Muggle authorities look for you too. Why isn’t the Cardinal waiting until he finishes the seven?”

And Hermione admitted to Harry, “I don’t know.”

They had to find Ginny and decided to go to the Burrow first. Mrs. Weasley greeted them just outside her kitchen door and she gave Hermione a big hug that brought both women to tears.

“Mrs. Weasley,” Harry interrupted, “We’re looking for Ginny.”

Mrs. Weasley began sobbing hysterically. Hermione tried to comfort her and after she calmed down, she finally answered Harry’s question.

“She left the twins with me early this morning. She and Dean are breaking up and she needed time alone to sort things out,” she was visibly worried

“Did she say where she was going?” Hermione asked.

“She wouldn’t say. She said she would be back tomorrow.”

“How would you get in touch with her in case of an emergency?” Harry asked.

“She has her own version of my clock, with the twins and Dean. She will know to come back if the twins are in any danger,” Mrs. Weasley tried to explain, “Though, I’ve been telling her the clock may be broken.”

Hermione was curious.

“Why is that?”

Mrs. Weasley replied, “Because for the last three months, the hand for Dean has been stuck at mortal peril.”

Disclaimer : Harry Potter - not mine.

Chapter 23 – About Dean

Harry could not believe that Ginny and Dean were breaking up. Was it not just a few days ago when Ginny said she was happy with her life? Even Mrs. Weasley did not see it coming, wondering if Ginny was just overreacting, not thinking straight because of she was angry. Hermione speculated that whatever it was they fought about last night had to be so horrible, that Ginny had absolutely no choice but to break it off with Dean. An affair maybe? Hermione’s name did come up and so did his. And between the two of them they knew that wasn’t true for either. If only Ritchie heard a little bit more about it.

So, unless something seriously threatened the lives of the twins, it was unlikely they could talk to Ginny until her return tomorrow. Harry hoped that some news about Dean’s arrest would reach her but admittedly, knowledge of Dean’s arrest may actually make her want to stay away even more. Hermione told Mrs. Weasley most of what was going on and suggested that they stay with Harry for the time being.

With Mrs. Weasley and the twins now settled in Dobby’s care, they were finally set to continue the busy day that was ahead of them. Well, almost.

“Harry, we have to go,” Hermione was trying to get the words through Harry’s incessant kisses, trying to be the voice of reason. They were in one of the guest rooms; the closest Harry could get them into, on the bed.

Harry was on top of her and was also trying his best, trying his best to convince her otherwise, “Must we? Two years is a lot of catching up to do.”

He kissed her mouth, driven mad by her soft and slow response, not relenting until they absolutely had to come up for air.

“We have a murderer to catch,” she said breathless, magically re-dressing what he had been undressing but continuing to kiss him too.

“You’re sending mixed messages,” he teased, whispered as he nibbled her left ear, “Just a few minutes, to finish what we started last night.”

She moaned and replied, “After two years, I certainly hope it takes longer than just a few minutes.”

He saw a smile, “What’s so amusing?”

“You have to get off me,” she said.

“Why?” he asked just before Hermione gave him a deep lingering kiss.

“Because Mrs. Weasley is just about to walk in on us,” she directed Harry’s attention to the guest room door. The knob was indeed starting to turn, slowly. She said quietly, “I’ll see you later.”

Harry kissed Hermione one more time and they parted reluctantly. She was off to Hogwarts and he to the Auror office to join the murder investigations. She smiled when he reminded her to be careful, and Disapparated with a faint pop. All of a sudden, everything had a different meaning. For the first time in years Harry was happy; blissfully and heavenly happy. He could look past the fact that Hermione was a fugitive and imagine spending the rest of his life with her.

But maybe he was thinking too fast. There were still things he had to talk to her about. He had questions that needed answers. Now that he was by himself with his head out of the clouds, he realized that she wasn’t really clear about how she felt about him. She said ‘…words are not going to be nearly enough to describe how I feel about you.’ What exactly did she mean by that? There were hundreds of words she could have used to describe how she felt about him, but she chose to tell him that way.

But in the context of her initiating the kiss that followed, maybe he was safe to assume she meant it the way he wanted it to mean. Then again, she said she wouldn’t kiss in public. Did she mean that or did she really mean she did not want anybody knowing they were kissing. What about the Muggle life she was leading? Was that going to continue? And he assumed that all this meant she was no longer going to see Ritchie. He heard her say, ‘You really should stop jumping to conclusions.’

Potter, stop it. This is Hermione you’re talking about. You know her. You’re just ruining the moment!

“Harry, I thought you had left but Dobby said I’d find you here. There was a Mr. Aimes in your fireplace looking for you, said you’re needed at the Ministry,” Mrs. Weasley said, with a puzzled look on her face.

He made up some excuse to explain why he was in the guest room, too lame to even remember, and said goodbye to her himself. Making a mental note to get back at Aimes for his second rude interruption in less than twenty-four hours, he Apparated to the Ministry and before he could reach his desk he came face to face with Aimes’ ugly visage. Such a reality check for what he hoped was going to be a wonderful day.

“Where were you last night, Potter?” Aimes asked.

Harry answered, “I shouldn’t have to answer that if you were doing your job.”

“Harboring a fugitive, a murderer at that, is a serious offence. Don’t make me catch you with her!”

“You know I’ll do my best,” Harry replied.

Aimes sure had a chip on his shoulder.

“She’s going to kill you, you know. And you’re the only one stupid enough not to believe it,” Aimes said as he left the room.

Harry thought she was indeed going to be the death of him, but not the way Aimes thought she would.

He saw Tonks come into the Auror Office with Melissa and she ushered him to come with them. She looked worn out.

“I just talked with Remus and knowing we’re meeting tonight makes me feel a lot better. It was hard seeing Severus like that,” Tonks said as they walked to the lifts and pushed the level to get to the Atrium.

She proceeded to describe to Harry how Snape looked and the missing piece of flesh that bore the dark mark. As Hermione had, they speculated on who the Cardinal meant when he said family. Melissa suggested, rightfully so, that Ron should get some protection just in case the Cardinal thought of finishing off what he started. Tonks said she would arrange it with Kingsley.

“Where are we going,” Harry finally asked.

“To see Dean. The Muggles have been interrogating him so the Minister is sending us to make sure everything goes well, ” Tonks explained then gave Harry a cautionary look. “We’re there just observing, unless absolutely necessary.”

Melissa added, “If somebody asks we’re from Manchester investigating similar crimes.”

Harry thought the three of them did look Muggle enough to prevent questions. Today, seemed to be the kind of day he would be having had he taken liquid luck potion. A chance to see and possibly talk with Dean was a good sign.

Earlier that day, he had wondered why Dean would allow himself to be arrested by Muggles. If it were him, he would have fought his way out and let the Ministry Clean Up team deal with the mess. Hermione thought of a few possibilities. Dean was a painter; he was not as wand ready as anybody working at the Ministry would be. He probably wasn’t expecting it. There was also an interesting footnote on Ritchie’s file about the importance of securing a ‘piece of wood’ immediately upon arrest. And Dean and Ginny lived as Muggles too. He had to abide with their laws. He likely did not imagine the crime for which he was being falsely arrested for was something as horrifying as murder.

They Apparated close to the local Muggle police station where Ritchie’s men had taken Dean. They were led to an observation area beside the interrogation room where Dean was being questioned by Ritchie and another Muggle. The observation area was packed. Dean was the first suspect taken in for questioning for the serial stabbing case so Harry could understand why it would be a circus.

From the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of a stylish thin short man who had front row seats to the proceedings. It was very interesting that Gomez would choose to be here. He doubted Gomez came as a wizard, much less as a Ministry official. As he pondered what Gomez’ cover might be, he nudged Tonks and Melissa and pointed Gomez out. As if Gomez sensed their eyes on him, he turned and acknowledged them.

Through the glass window Harry saw that Dean was seated at a wooden rectangular table with his head down. His hands were on his lap and there was a glass of water in front of him.

“Mr. Thomas,” it was Ritchie, “The labs don’t lie. Your fingerprints, the ones we took off you this morning, were found in all the crime scenes. You have no alibi whatsoever. We know for sure you knew eight of the victims and witnesses have identified you as having brief contact with the other seven. It would be best to cooperate.”

Dean replied, with lost and panic-stricken eyes, “I really don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not a murderer. Please, can someone contact my wife? You,” Dean said referring to the other Muggle, “You’re supposed to be my solicitor. Please get my wife.”

The other man answered, “We tried earlier and there is no one at your house. Is there a phone number where we can reach her?”

In frustration and almost in tears, Dean slammed his handcuffed fists on the table, “She doesn’t have a phone! How many times do I have to say that?”

Then Harry and the rest could hear him mumbling something about how the Ministry should be there soon and they would take care of everything. Dean was cracking under the pressure, and his perception about the Ministry coming to ‘take care of everything’ was totally off the mark. He remembered what Tonks said, they were only observing unless absolutely necessary. Harry had to do something.

“Let me talk to him,” he blurted out. The roomful of people turned towards him, and stared. Gomez’s mouth was agape. Even Melissa was surprised. Only Tonks anticipated he would do something brainless like this.

Think fast, Potter. Why would they allow you to go in there and interrogate their prisoner? You could tell them you knew him from school, and risk getting a thorough background check as well. Or, you could tell them the other truth, that you are his wife’s ex-boyfriend. Decide.

“And who might you be?” asked a burly man dressed in a cop’s uniform with the biggest and shiniest badge in the room. He must be the guy in charge.

“Inspector Potter. Manchester,” Harry shook his hand, “I’ve had great success dealing with delusional types like Thomas. No offence to the Inspector running the interrogation but he has gotten nowhere with him.”

The man was still unconvinced.

“Five minutes, with Thomas. Then you can pull me out. Five minutes can’t hurt.”

“Fine, five minutes,” the burly cop replied and called out to one of his minions to get Ritchie out of the room. As he was doing that, Harry whispered in Tonks ear and she nodded. “Tilly doesn’t have to stay but the counsel does, unless Thomas specifically waves his right to have him present.”

Harry figured that for appearances, it might be better for Ritchie and the solicitor to stay. Then depending on how crazy their conversation was going to be for a Muggle, he would decide if he needed someone to Obliviate Dean's counsel.

Ritchie came into the room, immediately saw Harry, and it was too late to warn him not to be surprised.

“Well, this is unexpected,” Ritchie greeted him with the same acerbic tone he had last night.

“You two know each other?” the man in charge did not miss a beat.

Harry answered quickly, remembering the trophies in his study, “Football rivals in our younger days.”

“Bitter rivals,” Ritchie realized that he almost blew Harry’s cover, “Just so you know, I still haven’t forgiven you for taking that trophy that we both know you don’t deserve.”

“Nice and civil, remember?” Harry said back, thinking he must be talking about Hermione, implying heavily that she had broken up with him and maybe was told Harry was the reason why. Or was that all just wishful thinking on his part? He shifted his attention to the task at hand, “Seeing that you haven’t had much success with Thomas, I’d like to try.”

“Be my guest.”

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind having you in there with me. You might learn something.”

Harry smiled. He did have to get back at him for playing him like a yoyo last night.

Ritchie smiled back, “I doubt I will but I’ll come anyway, to make sure you don’t screw things up.”

In the hallway, just before Harry and Ritchie went into the other room, Harry saw that Tonks was back. She had slipped out unnoticed earlier and gave him a slight almost imperceptible nod that they were set.

Ritchie did not miss it, “Video and audio feed?”

“We should be okay, at least until they figure out what happened. Tonks will let me know,” Harry thought that was the only way he could talk to Dean in private. That would not have been an issue if Hermione were around to talk to him in his head.

“And the public counsel?”

“We’re going to talk crazy, anyway. I doubt that he’ll follow.”

“It might be prudent to Obliviate him. This is a very important case. They will want to know every word that comes out of Thomas’ mouth, the crazier the better. Don’t count on them following the rules of client-solicitor confidentiality,” Harry thought Ritchie had a good point. He would ask Tonks to make sure the counsel would have a more mundane story to tell.

“He is innocent,” Harry told him just outside the door.

“Jane said the same thing. The evidence is overwhelming,” Ritchie said objectively, “I’m assuming, and Jane agrees, that the Cardinal orchestrated my getting Thomas’s file and this arrest. But if his intention is to blame these murders all on Jane, why is there a need for this arrest? I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop; tying Jane into all this. And unless the Cardinal implicates Jane through Thomas, with Thomas having a lesser role in the murders, only divine intervention will save your friend from the gallows.”

Dean had this expectant expression as he saw Harry come in.

“Dean,” Harry extended his hand, “Shake my hand and pretend it’s the first time you’ve ever seen me. Inspector Tilly knows about our world and they can’t hear us from the other room right now so feel free to talk.”

Ritchie gave the confused solicitor a reassuring look that this was part of strategy.

“Did the Ministry send you?”

“Yes,” but Harry had to tell him the truth, “The Ministry is not here to make things right.”

“The horrible murders they are accusing me of, I’m innocent,” Dean pleading for someone to believe him.

“I know, but we need your help,” Harry said.

“I don’t know how to help you. I don’t know anything except that I did know eight of the victims from my childhood.”

Harry briefly summarized the events about the Cardinal, the curses and how the Muggle murders were connected to the murders Hermione was being accused of.

At the mention of Hermione’s name, Dean buried his face in his hands.

“What is it Dean?”

“Ginny. Ginny and I had a fight last night about Hermione.”

Ritchie asked, “What was it about?”

“I found her outside my studio last night, crying. She said it was because she had found that my backroom was filled with portraits of Hermione, describing it as a place of worship. I had to see it for myself if it was true,” Dean continued, “And there was nothing in it. She thinks I got rid of it to make her feel she was going crazy.”

“Do the portraits exist?” Ritchie asked.

“Ginny saw them for sure,” Dean said quietly, “I think they do exist because I suspect I painted a whole lot of them.”

“Suspect?” Harry required clarification.

“I’ve been losing patches of memory for the past three months. When I go back to my appointment book to try and recall what I did, I have sittings booked and I do get paid for them but I don’t remember doing them. I’ve been forgetting to pick the kids up, missing meetings. And I have been having dreams about painting her.”

“Did you tell anyone about it? Ginny? Seamus?” For Harry, it made sense to at least do that.

Dean shook his head and had a look on his face like he was guilty about something.

“And did you not wonder why you would have recurring dreams about painting Hermione?” Harry could sense there was more to this than Dean was willing to tell them, “Dean, we can’t help unless you tell us everything.”

Dean hesitated before deciding to tell the truth, “If I told Ginny about the dreams she would ask the same question you just asked. I’ll lose her for sure if she finds out.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I last saw Hermione five months ago. Ginny and I had this big fight, something about the kids and her work. I spent the night getting drunk with Seamus at the Screeching Moon. I didn’t notice Hermione come in but later that evening I saw her talking with the bartender. Seamus had left so I sat with her for a bit and we talked, mostly about Ginny, work, about being married and being single. Everything was fine until stupid me made a move on her.”

“You what?” Harry was caught off guard. His emotions were rioting inside him as he thought of Ginny. And Hermione?!

Ritchie recognized the infamous temper flaring up like a bad rash, “Harry, if you can’t control yourself, it might be best to step out now.”

The reminder did calm Harry down, “I’ll be fine. What happened exactly?”

“Nothing,” Dean said vehemently, “I almost kissed her but she saw it coming and shot it down quickly, gracefully at that if I may add.”

“Why would you do something like that?” Harry was just baffled, “Don’t you care about Ginny?”

“I love Ginny. I made a mistake, Harry. I’m glad nothing happened.”

Harry asked Ritchie, “Did she say anything to you about this?”

Ritchie shook his head, knowing Hermione should have, “At least we have an inkling what the other shoe that’s about to drop may be about. Maybe she didn’t bother telling us because she thought it to be too trivial to be her connection with Dean.”

Dean interrupted, “Hermione definitely wouldn’t have said anything about it.”

Harry, Ritchie and the counsel looked at him. Ritchie asked, “Why is that?”

Dean answered, “We had the embarrassing conversation, the one with me saying I’m sorry, her saying she understood and trying to make me feel better by saying it was the firewhiskey. Immediately after that, she asked the barkeep to make us two amnesiac specials. She thought it best, for Ginny. I even remember what she said before we drank the spiked potion.”

Harry regrettably knew and offered, “She said ‘some memories are better off forgotten’.”

Dean replied, puzzled that Harry would know, “Yeah. That’s exactly how she said, too.”

Harry did not know what to think except that he kept on seeing her hurt expression during one of his diatribes at Ritchie’s house last night, the one about Harry wondering how many other blokes took the potion. If Dean had, anyone else conceivably could have and if she drank it once, she conceivably could have taken it many other times. The worst part about this was she wouldn’t even remember. He wondered how many more skeletons he was going to find in her closet.

Ritchie continued, “If you both took the amnesiac, how come you remember?”

Dean said, “That’s just it. The memory started coming back to me about two months ago, around the same time I began to have recurrent dreams about painting her. That’s why I think those paintings that Ginny saw do exist. I just don’t know what happened to them each time I finished, why they were in that backroom just that night and what happened to the lot after Ginny saw them. And most of all, why would I do that and not remember?”

“If you were not doing it consciously, then someone is influencing you to do them. But why show the portraits to Ginny, hide them, and then, if we are guessing right, show them again to make people believe you and Hermione are more than just friends?” Harry paused for bit. It did not make sense. “Aside from the time lapses and the incident last night, has there been anything peculiar that you can think of about the last three months?” Harry asked, thinking about the time when Ginny’s clock started showing Dean as in constant mortal peril, “Any unusual or regular clients, people who might be in a position to continuously influence you one way or the other?”

Dean shook his head; “It’s not uncommon that I would have same client sittings span over a couple of months, until the paintings are finished.”

Ritchie had an idea, “We have your appointment book. Do you think you can tell which ones you remember doing and which ones you don’t?”

“I can try,” Dean answered.

“Do you know Miguel Gomez?”

“The name sounds familiar, but not really.”

“What about T.M.Didler?”

Dean shook his head, “Harry, I’m losing my family and my life!”

“Just hang in there, Dean. We’ll get to the bottom of this,” Harry assured him.

Dean added, “Please find Ginny. I understand why she wouldn’t want to be with me right now but can you tell her I’m sorry and tell her I love her.”

“I will,” Harry said, consciously choosing not to tell him that they could not find her either. Dean didn’t need to deal with that right now, not that he could do anything about it.

“So what’s our other story,” Harry said, looking over to the solicitor, who was also eyeing them with keen interest now. There was a definite need for obliviation and memory implantation.

Ritchie started, “There’s always insanity, which half the people in the other room think you really have. But that will still get you permanent lifetime lodging in some facility. Your second option is to break out and join Jane in hiding. Or you can deny it, fight it all the way, and hopefully the trial and sentencing will last long enough that we find the Cardinal before then.”

Harry suggested, “The last option might be better, unless…,” he paused and looked at Ritchie, “…the Cardinal lets the other shoe drop and our Minister tells your Minister Dean should be tried as a wizard. Wizard justice is much swifter than its Muggle counterpart.”

Dean's counsel spoke for the first time, “Why is that?”

“They’re smart. They know solicitors and barristers are useless,” Ritchie answered, poker-faced, then turned to Dean, “So, deny it and we’ll work on getting you out, soon. I have to talk to the Chief. I’m curious why he made sure I didn’t know about the impending arrest until you were already in custody.”

The glass of water on the table suddenly exploded against the one-way mirror, a surprise to everyone. It was Tonks’ warning. He’d have to compliment her on her subtlety.

“What do you mean you were not involved?” Harry suddenly spat at Dean.

Dean answered, understanding that this was about giving the Muggles the alternate story they just talked about; “I deny everything. The evidence you have is rubbish. Cops planted it. And I’m going to fight it all the way!”

In the other room across the glass window, Gomez sat calmly and watched as the Muggles finally solved their interrogation room audio problems. He had come down to make sure everything would go on as planned and Potter had the nerve to do what he did. He wondered what Potter told Thomas to make him this fiery and passionate about denying everything. But what he was most concerned about was what Thomas said to Potter. Granted that he knew Thomas’ current memory was porous, Potter might be able to put the bits and pieces together. Gomez knew someone in the public counsel’s office. He could arrange a meeting to find out what the conversation was about and be prepared to deal with any complications.

Gomez was confident. No matter what Potter did, there was no stopping the cascade of events that was about to happen following Thomas’ Muggle arrest. With it, the Ministry would become involved and they already were. A simple background check would reveal Thomas and Granger were classmates at Hogwarts, Granger portraits would suggest an illicit affair, the similarities of the murders would be established and Granger would be linked to the Muggle murders.

However, he was a bit concerned about the Cardinal, who he knew was now aware that he made this happen. This Thomas arrest was not part of their plan and the Cardinal had a soft spot for the painter. The original purpose for Thomas was only to forge the Granger confession that the Cardinal was to plant on the 7th Muggle murder.

The Cardinal knew Thomas from Hogwarts and his being an orphan too was symbolic. But having him paint portraits under the Imperius curse was another digression into a pathologic admiration for Granger. Gomez had an idea where some of the portraits were and a well-timed anonymous phone call later today would be sufficient. First, they had to be moved to a less compromising location. Its discovery would surely alienate Thomas from his friends and family and give the impression of a stronger link between him and Granger.

For Gomez, Thomas was a loose end, and he did not like loose ends. It was easy enough to add eyewitness accounts and his fingerprints to the evidence gathered from the crime scenes to make it appear he knew all the victims and that he was there, leaving the Muggles no choice but to book him thus triggering the surge of events now happening. From what he knew of Thomas, cutting him off from his family would break him completely such that he would not last long living with Dementors.

As he saw Potter and Tilly about to leave the interrogation room, Gomez got up, shook hands with the burly man-in-charge, and quickly left, not wanting either to see him.

Just outside the interrogation room, Ritchie and Harry were each silently thinking about what they just found out.

“I’ll make copies of his appointment book for him, you and Jane to look at,” Ritchie finally said.

“Thanks,” Harry replied, “Who invited Gomez?”

“He was here?” Ritchie explained there were no Muggle records for Gomez.

“In the observation room. Front row seat, thin, short man, impeccably dressed,” Harry described him.

Ritchie thought, “The room was quite crowded today. There were a lot of people I don’t know. Get me a picture and I’ll try to make a match. By the way, our suspects and their connections to Dorner, Lowes, Franks, and Snape.”

Harry took the piece of paper Ritchie handed him and quickly browsed over it.

Dorner – Gomez

Lowes – Gomez

Franks – T.M.Didler, Gray

Snape – Gray?T.M. Didler in Hogwarts

“Interesting, Didler knew Franks.”

Ritchie answered, “Didler was a student when Franks just started teaching at the Muggle primary school.”

Then Harry thought out loud, “I can’t believe Dean would be stupid enough to make a pass at his wife’s best friend.”

“He’s really not half as stupid as you were when you had sex with your best friend’s girlfriend,” Ritchie countered.

It wasn’t just sex and she was not his girlfriend anymore, not really. Ritchie was right, of course, though Harry wondered how he found out. It must have been Hermione, “I admit that was ill-advised. But then you don’t know Dean’s wife,” Harry answered.

His temper paled in comparison to Ginny’s. Dean was very stupid, very stupid indeed.

“Jane does make some days interesting. She’s full of surprises, isn’t she?” Ritchie said about Hermione.

Harry nodded. She didn’t use to. She used to be predictable. A bothered look formed on his face.

“Some good, and some not so good.”

Ritchie saw his expression and presented him with a challenge, “If you can’t stand the heat, you can always get out of the kitchen.”

Before Harry could respond, Tonks and Melissa were beside them. Harry introduced them to Ritchie.

“We need to wipe and plant a memory on the counsel,” Harry told them.

“Muggle mind…barrister…want to have some fun?” Tonks asked Melissa, turfing the task over to her junior.

“It will be a pleasure. I hate barristers. We’ll get him into an empty room,” Melissa replied and said to Tonks, “Just cover for me.”

With instructions on which memory to plant, the ladies followed the man as he walked out of the interrogation room and down the hallway. They would meet each other at the Ministry.

Ritchie took Harry to an empty meeting room. He shut the door and windows, and dialled Hermione’s number.

“Hi. I’m with Harry. Let me put you on speakerphone.”

“What did Dean say?”

Ritchie started, telling her about the memory lapses and what Ginny and Dean fought about the night before. He also told her about the Gomez sighting. Harry noted that Ritchie omitted the part about Dean almost kissing Hermione.

“So I’m the Cardinal,” Hermione pretended, “I ask Dean to create some Granger paintings, then I show them to Ginny, but hide them right after. I have Dean arrested for the Muggle murders but I really want Granger to be responsible. So, I’ll show the paintings again to link Dean and Granger.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Ritchie said, “It seems like the Cardinal can’t make up his mind.”

“Why even bother hiding them after Ginny sees them, if you know you have to show them again?” Harry asked, “Maybe Ginny wasn’t supposed to see them. It was unintentional.”

Hermione said slowly, trying to think it through carefully, “What if there’s two of me? One doesn’t want the portraits seen, so hides them again after they are accidentally discovered by Ginny. The other wants them revealed so Granger can be linked to the Muggle murders through Dean.”

“So one wants to end this by getting Dean arrested and the other wants to continue until all seven are done,” Ritchie added, “That would also explain why not one suspect has links to all the murders on our end.”

“Didler and Gomez,” Harry stated who the obvious suspects were, “Didler is the enabled, the Cardinal who murders, and Gomez, is the Ministry contact who gave him Lumos. And we have motives.”

“Gomez, Mr. No-nonsense Head Unspeakable obviously got his already, that’s why he wants it to end,” Hermione said, “And Didler wants to continue, to kill seven and send me to Azkaban.”

“Who do you think has the upper hand?” Harry asked.

“We’ll know if and when the portraits show up again,” Ritchie answered, “What I’m wondering about is whether or not they are still a team.”

“I have a really bad feeling about this,” Hermione said seriously, “Harry, when you meet with Gomez this afternoon, ask him pointedly if Didler considers him family.”

“You think he’s next,” Harry knew Hermione was referring to the note on Snape, “And if he denies knowing Didler?”

“Then tell him he doesn’t have to worry about being murdered. Because if he was family and he’s been annoying the Cardinal by messing with his project, he should be very concerned, maybe even concerned enough to turn the Cardinal in.”

“I’ll suggest it,” Harry said.

Hermione had one more question, “What I can’t understand about Dean’s behaviour is why didn’t he tell anyone at all about the lapses in memory and about the dreams?”

Ritchie and Harry looked at each, neither wanting to answer her question. Ritchie beat him to it.

“Good question, Jane. Harry?”

Yellow. Harry had to reply, “Dean says five months ago he almost kissed you at the bar in the Screeching Moon. He was afraid Ginny would find out about that if he told her he was having dreams about painting you.”

There was silence on the other line. Then Hermione said calmly, “If Dean says this happened, then in his mind it must have but I don’t recall anything like that ever happening.”

Ritchie clarified, “He tried but nothing actually happened because you refused.”

“It’s a relief that I did refuse but I still don’t remember it ever happening.”

Harry spoke, “Dean says you took one of Tom’s amnesiac potions.”

Ritchie added, hoping to keep the conversation in context, “He took one too but his memory resurfaced two months ago.”

Hermione sounded irritated, “If Dean says I did, I probably did because he remembers and I don’t, but that does explain why I wouldn’t remember, don’t you think?”

“Of course you wouldn’t remember,” was all Harry could say, sensing her distress and wanting to be supportive.

“Why don’t you just go ahead and say it again?” She was really upset now.

Harry knew what she was referring to. His rant, about how many others took the potion. He thought it prudent to diffuse the situation, not wanting to ruin what was supposed to be a special day, “I didn’t mean what I said last night.”

“Stop lying because you were never good at it,” she said, “Ritchie, do you want to know what he said?”

Ritchie replied, “Just keep me out of this. If you guys are going to have a row about this, do it on your own time and your own phones. I really don’t want to hear it.”

“We’re not going to have a row. I was angry and I really didn’t mean what I said,” Harry explained.

It was as if she didn’t hear him, “You said, you could only imagine how many others took the potion. Well, I guess you don’t have to imagine anymore! There are others and now, you can think I take the stupid potion all the time, too!”

“Too late, Harry. Sounds to me like you two are having a row,” Ritchie had to put a word in.

So Ritchie knew the details of that night, too?

“The possibility that you used it more than that one time with Dean did cross my mind. But I don’t know that, and yes, I want to know …” Harry was interrupted.

“You want to know what other memories I got rid of and how many other times I’ve taken it! Well, I can’t answer that because I wouldn’t remember if I did!” Hermione was very upset, “And if you expect me to explain and make excuses for what I did when you weren’t around, don’t hold your breath!”

Ritchie finally snatched the phone from the table and took the speakerphone off.

“Jane, stop yelling. It’s me.”

Harry could hear her voice but could not make out the words.

“He’s still here. You shouldn’t say anymore words you’ll probably want to take back later.”

Harry could still hear the last thing she said, wondering if he did expect an explanation or an excuse for seemingly bad behaviour. Maybe he did, not to judge her, but to understand and hopefully accept and move on. However, he was indeed at a loss about how he felt regarding possible events in her past that may or may not have happened. He was afraid he would come across something so horrible he could not live with.

“No, he’s not accusing you of anything. He’s just…curious,” Ritchie was looking at him, angry. “You two should talk.”

And she hung up.

Ritchie said under his breath before exiting the room, “If you’re just going to break her heart again, do it now and do it swiftly.”

Harry was left in the room thinking it was certainly getting to be incredibly hot in this kitchen.

Disclaimer : Harry Potter is JK Rowling's.

Chapter 24 – Finding T.M. Didler

The Cardinal was furious with Gomez. This was not part of their plan and there was no need to get Thomas arrested. Thomas was purposeless in jail except to get the Muggles a suspect and the Ministry onto the Muggle murders, which was obviously exactly what Gomez wanted to happen. Gomez had no right to end this when the Cardinal was not through. And not only was Gomez trying to end it, he, possibly by accident, led Potter and Granger closer to finding out.

Gomez kept on underestimating Granger. Though meticulous care was taken so Thomas would not see even a mere suggestion of who the Cardinal’s public alter ego was, there was no telling what a skilled Legilimiens like Granger could accomplish given Thomas’ spotty memory. As unfortunate as it was, the Cardinal had to tie up this loose end, quickly, or risk being exposed. At the moment, Thomas’ black appointment book no longer existed and later, once Thomas was settled in a nice comfortable Muggle cell, there would be an appearance of an escape and Thomas would never be seen on the face of the earth again.

With this thought, the Cardinal disapparated from the Evidence room of the Muggle Police station.

A few minutes later, Ritchie was quite irate as he left the same station and drove back to Scotland Yard to find the Chief. Ritchie was having a very bad day. Thomas had been arrested and now, transferred to the Yard without his knowledge. He was disgusted with Harry for the obvious reasons, annoyed at Jane for involving him in that conversation, but really pissed at himself for not resisting the urge to do them any favors. This was definitely Ron’s fault for showing him that memory.

Admittedly, he could not understand why Jane would have wanted to erase the memory of Thomas attempting to kiss her. It could have been to keep it from Ron’s sister and to protect a friend and save his marriage, but Jane could keep a secret better than anyone he knew. The only reason he could think of that would make her take it was if there were something else to the incident. Jane always had a good reason for doing things.

By omitting the Thomas-almost-kissing-her story the first time, Ritchie hoped she would miss it and not ask the question. He knew she would react the way she did finding out she took an amnesiac, recognizing that she hated not knowing everything that was important enough to know. Finding out she had a missing memory, particularly one she willingly parted with, was sure to drive her up the wall and Harry’s implication the night before, though probably not meant, made things worse. It was bad enough coming to the same conclusion that Harry arrived at and be proven wrong about yourself at the same time.

Harry deserved being screamed at, maybe not for anything he did today but definitely for suggesting it to her last night. Ritchie intervened, not for him but for Jane, because of the memory he was carrying in his jacket pocket. What was more irritating was that while he seemed certain this morning what to do with it, the incident had made him change his mind.

Ritchie brought the nasty mood with him as he confronted the Chief in his office.

“Am I not lead in this case? Why was I not informed about picking Thomas up or about the decision to move him here?!” Ritchie was screaming at the top of his lungs.

“Keep your voice down, Tilly,” the Chief was a patient man but he had limits, “This is an important case. The order came directly from the Minister himself, he wanted an arrest and he got an arrest. End of story!”

“Thomas doesn’t have a motive.”

“I am sure he has one. You said so yourself. The victims had dreadful reputations. Even a saint could have killed them.”

“It seems his guilt has been decided.”

“We move on, Tilly. There have been no more killings and there will be no more. People need closure.”

“But you’re wrong. There have been more murders!”

“Those do not concern us Muggles!”

Ritchie did not have time to be fully surprised by what he had just heard his Chief say as they turned their attention to an owl that was rapping very persistently on the Chief’s office window.

About half an hour ago, at Hogwarts, Hermione hung up on Ritchie and turned her phone off. She was livid; more at herself than Harry; actually mostly at herself. Last night, she was hurt Harry could even think she would use the amnesiac with someone else, and today she just found out she did. She could accept being proven wrong, which rarely happened, but to be proven wrong about something like that was devastating. It was so unlike her to do something so moronic as to wipe off a memory. But was it?

Five months certainly seemed a long time ago. She thought back trying to remember how she felt then and how she would have handled Dean trying to kiss her. Around that time, she had to admit, there was a slight chance she could have. She might not have wanted to have that memory to deal with. And Dean had no reason to lie about what happened and all the reason to deny it, so she likely did.

She tried to locate memories around the time when the incident with Dean supposedly happened. Vaguely, she remembered sitting beside him at the bar in the Screeching Moon. Tom the bartender was laughing with them, or was it at them? Dean excused himself, saying he had to go home and make up with Ginny. She did not remember any conversations about Ginny. In fact, she didn’t even remember Dean joining her at the bar.

The last memory she had before that was of Tom setting a glass of firewhiskey in front of her saying it was compliments of an anonymous admirer. She teased him, suspecting it was really him trying to make her feel less depressed. He denied it and denied it each of the many other times he brought her complimentary drinks from her ‘admirer’. She always left him a hefty tip. Tom really knew how to make his customers feel better.

Thinking about Tom she remembered an incident that now seemed pertinent to her lost memory. It was during her disastrous brief date with Aimes about a month later.

“Tom, make Ron pay his tab next time he’s in because he’s a dead man,” she said to him as she dropped by the bar on her third trip to the ladies room in twenty minutes.

“What’s wrong with this one?” Tom smiled, polishing some glasses.

“I can’t stand him. He’s been doing this to his face every three minutes,” she demonstrated, tried to scrounge up her facial muscles.

“Why?”

“Apparently, he never breaks his regimen and this hour is facial exercise. He says the next hour is for his upper body. You can tell how excited I am to watch him exercise all night. Just my luck!”

Tom laughed.

“It’s not funny,” she said at first then accepted, having a chuckle with him, “Okay, it is a bit funny.”

“I think he’s getting anxious that you’ve been standing here for a long time,” Tom observed over her shoulder.

She turned and signalled that she would be right with him while telling Tom, “Why can’t he take a hint? If my date left me three times to go to the ladies room, I would think it’s either she was having a really awful time or have a serious bladder or bowel problem, I would run away the first opportunity I have.”

Tom suggested, “Sounds like this calls for my amnesiac special. Do you want me to make up a batch?”

“You know I never touch that stuff. How many times have you offered me this special drink of yours and how many times have I said no?”

“I don’t know, how many?”

“Six, that’s six times it’s been no and tonight is lucky seven.”

“But you wouldn’t remember how many times you’ve said yes,” Tom was grinning mischievously.

“True. But see, I don’t get it. I think the more horrible a memory is the more I’d really like to hang on to it.”

“Why is that?”

“Take tonight. I definitely want to keep this one so I don’t ever make the same mistake again. There’s no sense hitting myself with a hammer constantly,” she replied.

“What about a memory that may not be horrible but had no other purpose but to make you feel guilty?” Tom asked.

“Tempting for sure. Listen, if Aimes doesn’t agree to end this date and leave now I will definitely kill Ron,” she said in jest, “So you can ask me again then, though I’m not sure I’ll be remorseful doing it.”

Tom merely smiled as she continued before rejoining Aimes, “Save me a seat, I’ll be back in two minutes.”

Tom would know when else she took it and if there was just that one or several, she wanted each and every memory back. Maybe she could pay him a visit when all this business about the Cardinal was behind her.

Hermione was so upset finding out that she took the amnesiac that she took it out on Harry. Harry may not have said anything but he was thinking it; and it mattered a lot to her what he thought. Since she did it at least once, she might have done it many other times. She may have done something horribly wrong that she wouldn’t remember and maybe there was more to Dean’s memory than he admitted. It wouldn’t have mattered much if she weren’t concerned about how Harry would feel about that.

She found herself wishing she did not love him anymore so she would not care so much about him being hurt by what he could find out about her. There were a couple of things she did in the past months that Harry might find hurtful, things she still had to tell Harry about, and now, that included events she may not even remember, much less explain.

Just last night, she was already frustrated and exhausted trying to explain her actions from the past when she wasn’t accountable to anyone but herself. What was she supposed to do? Think of how Harry would be affected by her every decision when she was certain he didn’t care and would never come back? She was trying her best to move on with her life and that would have been a definite violation of what she was trying to do. And she didn’t even do anything wrong, at least not that she remembered.

Fate was being cruel to her. Not only did the things she did to try and forget him not work, it appeared they would ultimately be the cause why they wouldn’t be together. Harry thought he would come back and just pick up where he left off, still thinking of her as the Hermione he remembered from two years ago, when so much had happened in his absence. Anytime soon, he would realize he was in love with someone who no longer existed; someone who probably died when he left two years ago.

Hermione did see this coming before jumping into the fire again. That was part of the reason she wanted him to leave and disappear again. She knew she would have no choice if he showed any interest in her. Last night in her apartment, he asked her if she really wanted him to stop what they were doing, and between Ginny telling her that he still loved her and how she still felt about him, she had to give them another chance. If they were meant for each other and if Harry truly loved her, he would be able to look past all that and still want to be with her. She really could not see that happening now. The truth was, she could see their frustration continuing if they stayed together. Maybe it was just not meant to be.

There was an aching lump in her throat as she thought about the eventuality of saying goodbye once more, hoping it wouldn’t be as bad the second time around. Hopefully, they would remain friends. A few drops of tears fell as she closed her eyes.

“Are you okay?” Neville Longbottom, Hogwarts Herbology teacher, asked, concerned. He had in his arms a stack of what looked like class graduation books.

“I’m fine, Neville. I’m just tired,” telling a half-truth as she wiped the tears off her face with a hanky she conjured out of thin air.

There were hushed voices among a group of Neville’s students at the far end of the room.

“I think they suspect it’s you,” Neville apologized, setting the books on the table, “You can’t believe how notoriety has actually increased your popularity.”

“Thanks for doing this and please thank Professor McGonagall for me, for being supportive.”

“I just wish you had given me an idea of what it was you wanted help with before coming over, though I understand the need for secrecy. I may have gotten you more useful information.”

“I know it’s a long shot. We think Didler attended Hogwarts around the time we were here but likely changed names before getting on the train. It seems far fetched the name Didler would appear on any Hogwarts document.”

“Okay, so here’s what we did. For a start, we already know that no student with the name Didler ever attended Hogwarts. But you think Didler attended under a different name. Unfortunately, the list of students eligible for admission into Hogwarts for any given year, which probably would have Didler’s name, is highly confidential, to protect the anonymity of students like Didler. Even Professor McGonagall will not be able to help us. But, admission letters and transfer letters are not that private.”

“And Hogwarts keeps copies?”

Neville nodded, “I had my class look at copies of letters for students who attended Hogwarts during the seven years we were here. That’s a total of thirteen years. The problem was they were dumped in boxes, just sorted by year, and definitely missing a lot of letters. Ours weren’t in the lot. Neither was Didler’s.”

Hermione was not hearing anything good so far. Maybe Didler changed names before the admission letters were sent out.

“But you said Didler was an orphan. Hogwarts has a fund for orphans who cannot afford to buy books, robes and supplies. It took a while to find the right book but…”

Neville was grinning from ear to ear as he opened a logbook and pointed to an almost faded entry.

July 1, 1994 T.M.Didler 100 galleons

“The summer before our fourth year,” Hermione did a quick calculation in her head.

Hermione jumped and gave Neville a big hug, planting a loud kiss on his cheek. Neville blushed as his students cheered him. Hermione apologized, “I’m sorry. But thanks. This is wonderful news!”

“You’re most welcome but don’t get too excited, yet. That entry is the only one. We don’t know if Didler was in the first year class or a transfer. As I said, we don’t have a complete list of the admission letters for that year but assuming, and this is a big assumption, that in 1994 Didler was a first year, I can get the kids to start cross referencing names on the Hogwarts 1994 first year roster with the names on the admission letters we have on file. I reckon by tomorrow we can narrow down the 1994 first year list to include only those without matching admission letters. If Didler entered Hogwarts as a first year, Didler’s other name should be on it.”

“Let’s work on that assumption and if we find nothing we’ll come back and dig some more,” Hermione thought the chances were quite good Didler was a first year student in 1994. Transfers were quite rare.

“I thought you might want to get started; Graduating Classes 1994 through 2001. Didler should have at least one photo in here somewhere,” Neville was still blushing when he pushed seven Hogwarts Graduation Annuals towards her. One year was missing for when the school was closed.

The top most looked familiar. It was for the year they graduated. Opening it to the centre page, she found a picture of her, Ron and Harry. It was when they were recognized with a special school award for ridding the world of Voldemort. She remembered the moment, as she saw herself on the moving picture looking very embarrassed that she was receiving such an honour. Ron was laughing at someone in the crowd. And Harry was looking at her and Ron, mostly her with such a bittersweet expression. Hermione never saw it that way before. She wondered, with everything that had happened, if that was going to be the last look she was going to give him.

Re-focussed by Neville’s discovery of T.M. Didler, she thanked him and sent the graduation books over to Harry’s house. Hermione found and walked through the secret passageway that led to the Shrieking Shack. When she got there, she looked at her watch and took her phone out. She called Ritchie.

“It’s me.”

“Are you okay?”

She thought that question sounded familiar, “I’m fine. How did the conversation with the Chief go?”

“Not well,” Ritchie replied, “First of all, the Chief knows Gomez as Michael Goodrich. He’s rich and donated a lot of cash to get the Chief into his position. My Chief also knows he’s a Muggle and Gomez is a wizard.”

“Interesting.”

“It was a set up. Thomas is the fall guy so they both get what they want. And one other thing, Thomas’ appointment book is missing.”

“That’s not good,” Hermione replied, worried. She looked at the time; it was just before two in the afternoon, “I have some time before work. I need you. Can we meet?”

Exactly an hour before that, at the Ministry for Magic, Harry had just apparated and was quite ill tempered. He tried Hermione’s phone a few times but his kept telling him hers was out of service. With the Gomez meeting scheduled in a little over half an hour, he couldn’t go to Hogwarts either. Even if they talked right now, he was bound to mess things up even more as he was still at a loss about what to say to her to make things right.

Why would she take the potion? Dean he could understand. On the other hand, she didn’t do anything wrong. Wouldn’t that be the only reason why one would want a memory erased? The months she stayed away from the Burrow and from Ginny kept nagging him. He stopped himself.

“No, it was merely a near kiss, nothing more, just as Dean confessed,” he told himself. It had to be.

And really, it was premature to think she took the potion more than that one time. Last night he only said those words to hurt her and now she would not allow him to take them back. At the moment, she would not even allow him to get in touch with her.

It was quite a concern for Harry that Ritchie knew too much about them. Not only did she choose to talk about what he said last night with Ritchie present, she invited Ritchie into their conversation and quickly turned to Ritchie for support during their argument. On hindsight, had he not been so pre-occupied trying to defend himself and trying to figure out how to diffuse the tension, he might have recognized the futility of his words sooner and made an attempt to talk to her more privately

Ritchie’s reaction was also a bit of puzzlement. It almost seemed as if he was actually trying to help Harry out. Harry must have been imagining things.

Upon arrival at the Atrium he immediately went to the Library. He asked for a complimentary copy of the Daily Prophet containing the Rita Skeeter article about Hermione’s escape that had a picture of Gomez on it and walked across to the Owlery.

Ritchie did not specify how so Harry thought it was a good opportunity to have some fun sending him the picture. First, he had to remove Hermione’s bound image from the background. The last thing he wanted was an overly concerned Ritchie bombarding Hermione with affection. He looked around, hoping he was still around and found him. The perfect owl to do this particular job; Mr. Pecker.

Mr. Pecker was a former Prophet delivery owl that couldn’t get past the fact that being a Ministry owl meant he was no longer required to collect payment for deliveries. He wondered how long Ritchie would figure this out, a test of just how well read and well informed he was about the magical world. Grinning as he was attaching the picture to Mr. Pecker’s leg, he wished he could be there to see the look on Ritchie’s face.

He still had time. Harry went to Wizard and Witch Resources, where employee files would be. He charmed his way into an unscheduled meeting with the Head of the Department and convinced her to show him the Gomez employee file. There was not much there that was of interest. There were no names listed as family; no family contact in case of Emergency; no personal leaves to address family matters; no suggestion of T.M.Didler. Curious, his pension plan listed a Muggle charity as a beneficiary. His wrote down the name for later reference.

Kingsley sent him a flyer saying Gomez had postponed their meeting to an hour later, at three in the afternoon when Hermione was due at work. He thought about going there after. That would not go over well with her should he show up there. They might just end up arguing about why she insisted on living a Muggle life. Maybe she was finished at Hogwarts and they could have a quick chat before. He tried Hermione again. Her phone just kept ringing. He called Ritchie.

“What is it?” he asked abruptly.

No, he could not ask him about whether or not she called. His resolve melted as quickly as it formed. Damn.

I’m worried about her. “Has she called at all?”

“She’s with me,” Harry was taken aback, trying not to jump to any more conclusions as she suggested this morning. He looked at the phone; they were at the Yard.

“I want to talk to her.”

“She’s busy at the moment,” Ritchie replied, “I’ll have her call you back.”

He was sounding extremely normal. Something was up.

“Did you get the picture?”

“Thanks,” Ritchie replied with no animosity whatsoever, sounding very normal but distracted, “What’s the owl’s name?”

“Mr. Pecker,” Harry thought, hopefully Ritchie didn’t hurt Mr. Pecker.

“Fitting,” Ritchie said, “He loves chocolates by the way. And your Miguel Gomez is our Michael Goodrich. He’s quite an influential man on our side of the world too, got the Chief his job.”

“Goodrich?”

“He was adopted by a rich childless couple who left him everything at age sixteen.”

“Anything unusual?”

“Nothing suspicious, but I’ll dig some more,” Harry heard him swear.

“What’s the matter?” Harry asked.

“I think were fine,” came his strange reply.

“Can you check out a Muggle Charity for me? Pension beneficiary on Gomez’ file,” Harry read out the name.

“Will do. I’ve got to go Harry. I’ll see you later tonight.”

And he hung up. Harry tried Hermione again. It rang and rang and the display did say she was at the Yard. Finally giving up on talking to her before her shift at the Bookstore, he concentrated on finding more about Gomez. As he suspected, he could not get to the personal file with the intensive background information that would have been gathered on Gomez when he first joined the Ministry. Only Scrimgeour had access. There was one other place in the Ministry he wanted to check.

The Social Functions Section of the Wizard and Witch Resources Department was comprised of a staff of two lively, chatty sisters who could not have found a job in the Ministry they would have loved more. Tammy and Pammy Hart arranged and organized all Ministry sanctioned functions. They liked Gomez because he donated galleons to charity, particularly for foster children. Gomez apparently let everyone know he was one. Neither remembered him bringing family to functions although in one occasion a long time ago, he did bring a few foster kids to celebrate a promotion. All they had was an old faded photo of the group of twenty, there were no names to match with the blurred faces. They made a reproduction for him to keep.

Harry went back to the Auror office and was surprised to see that tensions were higher than usual. He quickly found out why. There were reports from Scotland Yard that Dean Thomas had escaped.

Disclaimer : Harry Potter – JKR’s

Chapter 25 – A Bug With Information

“Harry, Melissa, Tonks! In my office!” Kingsley called out. He shut the door after Harry, who was the last to enter, “Tell me this isn’t us!”

The three of them talked simultaneously like eight year olds in the principal’s office, denying everything.

“Okay, stop! This is a high profile Muggle case! I was serious when I said this earlier! We were there to observe, unless absolutely necessary!”

Harry thought it wasn’t really essential to shut the office door. Pretty much everyone on Level 2 heard him, possibly with the exception of Lars, one of the oldtimers, who was deaf. He said, making an attempt to make the boss less upset, “We had to talk with Dean, Kingsley.”

Melissa added, “You should have seen him. He looked lost and he’s really innocent.”

“I take full responsibility,” Tonks acknowledged, being the most senior of the group.

“All I want to hear is that none of you helped him escape! It will be a political nightmare if one of you were involved,” he said, looking at Harry in particular.

Harry shook his head, “I had nothing to do with it.”

He did not have a chance to call Ritchie or Hermione and was wondering if they were aware of Dean’s break out. They were at the Yard half an hour ago. Did Kingsley say when exactly Dean escaped?

“The Obliviator Team is at the Yard as we speak. Witnesses are having their memories scanned but it appears they have already been modified,” Kingsley shared with them.

“You mean no one can tell us what happened?” Melissa asked.

Before Kingsley could answer, Gomez barged into his office.

“Talk to me, Kingsley!” he demanded, “Where’s Thomas?”

Kingsley shut his door again. He answered blandly but was looking for any unusual reaction, “We don’t know where he is.”

It was a very unexpected reaction indeed.

“You!” Gomez accosted Harry, grabbing him by his shirt collar, pushing him towards Kingsley’s desk. In the process, a glass bottle with a miniature Muggle boat model inside was knocked loose from its stand. It bounced a couple of times and rolled on the floor. Kingsley was passionate about sailing. Too bad the bottle was unbreakable. Gomez was looking at him with piercing eyes, “You had something to do with this!”

Surprised and baffled looks were around the room. Gomez was never flustered and he just lost it completely. He had this look of being on the brink of going over the edge.

Harry kept his composure and looked back at him coldly, telling him the truth, “I had nothing to do with it,” and then, in a threatening voice said, “But if you don’t let go of me right now, I can promise you, you’re going to get hurt!”

Gomez did not need to be told twice, letting go of Harry’s shirt collar and stepping back. The threat seemed to have jogged him back to his senses and he regained control, “What do you have so far, Kingsley?”

“About half an hour ago a magical entity entered the Scotland Yard high security area, disabled most of the security cameras, petrified all the guards, and left with Dean Thomas, but not before modifying memories.”

“Most of the cameras?” Gomez asked, not missing anything.

Kingsley magically turned on a Muggle computer at the corner of his office and brought up two brief repeating movie clips playing side by side.

“The Muggles sent me some clips. Two cameras caught a glimpse of the accomplice, one coming in and one going out,” Kingsley explained, “Their Minister wants us involved for the obvious reason. They want Dean Thomas back in custody.”

Gomez, Harry, Tonks and Melissa moved in to get a better look at the images. The first clip was quite clear. A close up, sufficient for identifying who they should be looking for. Harry was certain that the Muggles would not find this helpful because the image was that of a faceless hooded figure clad in a black robe. It was the Cardinal as Harry saw in Ron’s memory. Of course Kingsley saw Ron’s memory too so he knew who this was. So why was he asking him all those questions earlier?

The second clip was a more distant shot; the features of figures were not as clear. It was of Dean and the Cardinal Disapparating from view. Or was it?

His head almost collided with Melissa’s and Tonks’ as both also wanted a closer took at the small figures on the second clip. The Cardinal on the second clip was a couple of inches shy of Dean who was standing beside him. This Cardinal appeared to be shorter compared to Harry’s recollection of the Cardinal in Ron’s memory who would have been at least Dean’s height. And there was something off about the way the Cardinal wore the long black robe. On the front there were two almost imperceptible identical mounds. He squinted. Were those breasts? His eyes met Tonks briefly. She saw that too.

Gomez was staring blankly at the first clip, almost paralyzed.

“Miguel,” Kingsley tried to get his attention, “Do you have time now for that meeting?”

“What?” he seemed to have just come back from some other place.

“The meeting,” Kingsley repeated and instead of asking, suggested, “We should have it now.”

He nodded, "Let's get this over with."

Melissa left the room on Kingsley’s request. Despite the adequacy of chairs, nobody sat down. The room was intense.

“You were quite cryptic about agenda, Kingsley,” Gomez started, definitely on guard, “And you didn’t tell me there were going to be other attendees. So, what is this really about?”

“I didn’t realize you had a personal interest in the Muggle serial murders. My crew saw you there, apparently as the Muggle Michael Goodrich.”

“Perhaps your crew should be more concerned about finding Granger and Thomas,” came his biting reply, deftly avoiding any explanation about why he was there.

“What about finding the Cardinal?” Harry asked pointedly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Did your friend Granger convince you to chase after a phantom?”

The bastard was obviously lying, “It seems you recognized that phantom I’ve been chasing. Why were you so shocked with what you saw on the clip? Was it not part of the plan to help Dean Thomas escape?”

“Mr. Potter,” Gomez said deliberately, “I do not know any Cardinal, religious or otherwise. Give up the ghost. Granger is guilty and will be sent to Azkaban for the murders of Dorner, Lowes, Franks and Snape, and, if you stop interfering, perhaps the real Aurors will realize she is involved with the Muggle murders, too.”

Harry remembered what Hermione asked him to do, “If you don’t know the Cardinal then you should know T.M.Didler. Tell me something. Does Didler consider you family? That note on the Professor was quite a warning. If you value your life, you should turn the Cardinal in.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know any Didler either,” Gomez forced a smile, turning his attention back to the Head Auror, “Kingsley, is there anything else you think we should talk about aside from this garbage?”

Taking Harry’s lead, he replied, “We can help you, Miguel. Let us help you. Tell us who it is.”

“You’re all delusional! It is Granger and you can help by putting her and Thomas in Azkaban!”

Kingsley tried to appeal to him, “This murderer could be another Voldemort. Surely, you don’t want that.”

Gomez was resolute in his assertion, “Just work the evidence, Kingsley. Stop wasting my time!”

Then Gomez left Kingsley’s office.

Tonks was observing closely the entire time and noted, “Too bad he’s such a skilled Occlumens. It seems like he’ll take his secrets to the grave, if he has secrets,” she turned to Harry, “I just want to ask the question so we’re not chasing air here. What evidence do we have right now that Gomez is involved?”

Kingsley answered, “Evidence, none. But I think there is too much coincidence going on that he knows more than he is telling us.”

Harry added, “And he knows that we don’t have evidence against him. Can we not do something else to get the information we need?”

Kingsley shook his head, “He will be expecting that and he’s smart enough to know what we can do. Showing up at Dean’s interrogation when he knew we could ID him was a risk he took because he wanted to make sure. He might be taking more risks and soon he’s going to make a mistake.”

“What about his Ministry entry files?” Tonks inquired, “It could have information from his past that will help us.”

“Unfortunately, Scrimgeour is away until next week with his wife on vacation,” Kingsley said frustrated, “The chances of Gomez giving us access voluntarily are slim to none.”

Kingsley steered their conversation to Dean’s escape.

“I need to make a decision on what to do about Dean. Was this the real Cardinal or was this Hermione?”

Harry had been thinking the same question when he saw the clips. If it was Hermione then Dean would be safe and Kingsley could make it appear the Ministry was doing something about it. If this were the real Cardinal, Dean would be in danger, and they would have to search more aggressively.

Tonks answered first, referring to what she and Harry noticed on the second clip, “I thought the Cardinal was a bloke. Any chance Ron and Hermione were wrong about that? The robe and the mask do hide a lot.”

Harry dismissed the thought quickly. Maybe he was prejudiced to think no woman could ever commit the murders, “I suppose that’s possible but the voice I heard from the memory belongs to a bloke. Besides, the clip was too far a shot it could have been just an illusion.”

“Or it was Hermione.” Tonks added, “If it was her why would she dress up like him?”

Harry had an idea why, “Let’s ask her.”

He tried her again on the cell phone and now, hers was again unavailable. It was past 3pm. Maybe she didn’t take personal phone calls at work.

“If you know where she is, we should just go and talk to her,” Tonks suggested.

“I’d rather not, just in case,” Harry thought is would be quite unfortunate if his stupidity led to her capture, “Let me try someone else.”

Ritchie would know; she was with him at the Yard half an hour ago. It was getting to be really hard not to jump to any conclusions and really frustrating to have to go through Ritchie to know what was going on.

“Don’t tell me she hasn’t called you yet,” Ritchie sounded equally annoyed.

Harry did not want to talk to him more than he had to, “Listen, I’m with Kingsley and Tonks. Dean escaped, but you know that already. Should we be searching for him or was it her?”

“You should be searching for him,” Harry heard him reply without any concern on his voice, “But not too hard and not to find him. Do you get what I mean?”

“Got it.”

Harry hung up. He knew what Hermione wanted to accomplish. By rescuing Dean as the Cardinal she hoped that would flush Gomez out and maybe nudge him into turning the Cardinal in. And as a bonus, it would be giving the Cardinal a dose of his own medicine; framing him for something he did not do. Harry also understood why she decided not to tell him. He had an impending meeting with Gomez and it was better that he didn’t have to lie about the escape. But he still wished he were in on it from the beginning. Ritchie was.

“Dean’s with Hermione but we should appear to be searching for him convincingly,” he said to Kingsley who nodded.

Just then, an interoffice urgent mail zipped into Kingsley’s office and landed in his hands.

Tonks and Harry waited to see if this was related to the Dean business. Kingsley looked up with an unreadable expression.

“I don’t know what this means but Gomez has just given us access to his confidential Ministry file. He says it’s to prove he is not involved so we can move on and catch the real murderer.”

“The file must be useless or has been meticulously vetted,” Tonks concluded.

“Or his way of asking for help, giving us something to help us find the Cardinal,” Harry commented. Maybe Hermione’s ploy was working and Gomez now wanted to be rid of the murderer.

“Tonks, get Aimes, Melissa and Flint to work on Dean’s escape. Have them put together a team to monitor trains, the Knight Bus, apparition centres, post up wanted signs, and coordinate press releases. Tell Melissa to update me every half an hour. You go home and get some rest. We’ll see you tonight,” then he gave Harry Gomez’ note, “Here, find us the Cardinal.”

Harry and Tonks left Kingsley’s office and did as they were told.

A short time ago, Ritchie was at the Yard and just got off the phone after telling Harry what Jane should have; that Dean was safe.

Recalling their earlier phone conversation, Jane did say she wasn’t avoiding Harry, didn’t she?

“How is he?” Ritchie asked about Thomas.

“He’s settled down. I finally got him to promise not to go looking for Ginny and to wait until tonight to see the twins. Nice digs, by the way.”

Ritchie knew it was the exact opposite. It was a small, dingy, dirty apartment, with one window, in a part of London that most Londoners preferred not to know about. No one would think of looking for them there.

“That’s the best I could do on short notice. Besides, you’re fugitives. I thought it would be appropriate so you would at least feel like you’re fugitives and not go to work as if you’re not.”

She laughed at his logical explanation. He knew convincing Jane not to go to work that afternoon, when Miranda, the owner, had begged her to, was a lost cause.

“Dean’s already livening up the place from the inside. I have to leave soon and I hope he keeps his promise. Was it convincing? Are you sure the second clip was fine?”

“I thought it was good enough. The 2nd shot was taken from a distance, though, you probably should have done something about your, um, chest,” a not-so-innocent memory of the night they had last week involving her, um, chest, crossed his mind, which he immediately disposed of. He wondered how many more times that would happen.

“Well, somebody messed up. You should have stuck to the plan to have only one camera working,” she jibed back.

“I told you I was distracted. Which reminds me, it’s none of my business but have you called Harry yet?”

It was definitely none of his business. Actually, miffed at being dragged into their argument on the phone earlier today, he had asked Jane not to involve him in any relationship discussions with or about Harry. Sure, he may have known a little bit of what it was about, and sure, she may have been really upset and needed someone to take her side at a time when even she was against herself. But surely, she must have realized that they had just broken up this morning! Why would she think he would be inclined to assist?

And now here he was with his foot in his mouth, foolishly enquiring about Harry. The truth was, he was interested in how things were. He hoped she wouldn’t bring that particular conversation up.

“I’m going to be late. I’ll call him from the Bookstore. If he’s had that meeting with Gomez I’ll tell him where Dean is.”

“He’s going to start thinking you’re avoiding him, especially after your row this morning and probably will not be too happy you didn’t tell him about Dean.”

Ritchie scolded himself, ‘Stop meddling. Let them implode on their own.’

“I’m not avoiding him,” she clarified, “And about Dean, he would understand why.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

He waited as it took some time for her to answer, “Then he doesn’t.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“What?”

“Making it harder for you,” Ritchie was hoping she would save him from making the decision and just tell Harry about the memory. Ron believed she never would, “He needs to know what happened.”

She disagreed, “It’s in the past, Ritchie, and it’s done and over with. He doesn’t need to know.”

Ron was right.

“You need him to know, so you wouldn’t be frustrated having to explain so much.”

“I shouldn’t have to explain at all.”

“Why won’t you tell him?”

“I’m not exactly the same person I was two years ago.”

“Neither is he. So what’s your point?”

“He may think that he does but what if he doesn’t love me anymore? I don’t want him stuck with me if he doesn’t love me anymore.”

“Stop worrying about what ifs. You think too much.”

She hung up. He wondered why she had not called Harry from the Bookstore as she said she would and why she lost quite a bit of the enthusiasm about Harry that she had this morning. But there was definitely no escaping from the task Ron had given him.

With his bandaged right hand, Ritchie took out the piece of paper on which he had written the name of the Muggle charity Gomez named as his pension beneficiary. He cursed as his sore fingers struggled punching in the letters on the computer keyboard. The owl that Harry used to deliver the picture of Gomez had pecked at his hand quite maniacally before the Chief gave the bird a piece of chocolate to munch on. How was he supposed to know postage was due on delivery? He was sure there would be plenty of opportunity for paying Harry back for Mr. Pecker.

The search finally returned some results. Good, a London address. He had to make the same appearances of conducting a Dean Thomas search, grand scale and when that was in place, he would check this lead out.

Somewhere else in the Yard, the Cardinal was seething with rage. Granger had Thomas. Gomez had disapparated from the Ministry. Both were nowhere to be found. What were they up to?

Gomez was somewhere in London, in a Muggle restaurant, relaxing, having a very late lunch. Everything was in motion. Tonight, Granger would be in Azkaban.

Hermione was at the University Bookstore. She tried calling Harry a little bit after three but her mobile phone was dead. So was Miranda’s. The Bookstore telephone was also out of service. Before she could wonder why, they were suddenly inundated with customers, keeping both her and Miranda extremely busy for the next five hours.

Harry was swamped too. He did not expect Gomez’s file to be composed of five banker’s boxes of documents. He was about three quarters of the way, finding nothing, thinking Tonks was right about this being a wild goose chase, when the hunger pangs couldn’t be ignored anymore. He decided to take a trip to the cafeteria.

It was eight in the evening when he finished gobbling up the forgettable dinner. Strangely, the place was almost deserted. In the lift on his way back to Level 2, a bug buzzed annoyingly around the small enclosure. The wizard beside him started swatting indiscriminately to murder the flying pest but failed miserably. Harry got off on Level 2 and so did the insect, which was seemingly following him. On closer inspection, the bug looked familiar, too familiar. What did she want?

Harry led it into an empty meeting room and closed the door. Rita Skeeter appeared in a split second.

“I’m sure your readers are sick and tired of reading crap about me.”

“Harry, Harry, Harry. Is this what I get for risking my life to see you?”

“I don’t have time for this, Rita. Get to the point.”

“Actually, I’m here because I have information you want, though you don’t know you want it, yet.”

He regarded her briefly and decided she was serious.

“What do you want in exchange for it?”

She smiled, almost giddy with excitement, “An interview with her.”

“Her.”

Rita Skeeter nodded, “Yes. An interview with the fugitive, Hermione Granger.”

“You know I can’t speak for her and I don’t even know where she is.”

Harry needed to work on lying. He was missing out on a lot because of his handicap.

“Well, I know where she is,” she replied, “And it appears so does the entire Magical Law Enforcement with the exception of Aurors.”

“What are you talking about?”

“University Bookstore closes in less than an hour. Tick tock, tick tock…”

“I’ll talk to her, but…”

“I want your word, Harry. Believe it or not, I am rooting for the bitch.”

He thought, “That’s only because you can’t interview the dead.”

This better be good or Hermione will have his head.

“Fine. You have my word.”

“She is being arrested tonight at the Bookstore. I hear Dementors are involved and that is not surprising considering how Aurors have faired against her. And there’s something else; they are unveiling a new device to capture Dark Wizards. It’s called,” she paused and took out a notebook, “It’s called the Magical Travel Containment Tunnel. All I know about it is that the late Alfred Lowes, one of her allegedly victims, designed it and everybody is being told not to disapparate or portkey out of a five mile radius. Those who violate risk death.”

Harry was running to the lift even before Rita could finish. He had to find help. Maybe Tonks and Kingsley. He was trying Hermione on the phone again and all he was hearing back was ‘Not In Service’.

Disclaimer : Harry Potter - not mine but JK Rowling's.

Chapter 26 – Pink and Blue

The University Bookstore was extremely busy for a Saturday afternoon. All the students and teachers coming into class today must have decided to drop by to browse and buy books. And it even seemed that they told their families and friends to come, too. With Hermione the only one in helping Miranda, this afternoon was crazy busy.

Hermione loved working at the Bookstore. The job was usually quiet and was a far departure from the hustle and bustle that was her life at the Ministry. The owner, Miranda Giles, was a sprightly octogenarian who was a wonderful boss to work for. All her employees were University students and she allowed them to read as much on the job provided work was not left undone. That was easy because she usually had more staff working on any particular shift than required. For Hermione, this meant she had lots of time to start reading the required textbooks for the research associate program she had signed up to attend in the fall.

Miranda was like everyone’s grandmother. She could be stern but most of the time she was very understanding, and she was a treat to talk with, as Hermione and Ritchie found out when she insisted they join her for tea one time. She was quirky, but who wasn’t at eighty-one, and she could say anything to anyone without any second thoughts. Everybody loved working for her. Miranda never had a problem finding people to fill the schedule. She never had a problem until now.

Hermione called Miranda from Ritchie’s house last night and she heard how Miranda’s usually reliable rotating staff of twenty university students seemed to all have personal emergencies, illnesses and previous engagements that they could not work tonight. Miranda was given such short notice she had left messages on Ritchie’s machine for Hermione to call her back ASAP, saying if Hermione couldn’t come it would be the first day in the forty years she ran the bookstore that it would be closed on a non-holiday and that would be a ‘travesty’. Despite the scheduling challenges and the recent change in her social status, Hermione was more than happy to help. She couldn’t really say no to Miranda.

And she was so glad she came. The Bookstore had never seen so many customers in one day since Hermione started working there a couple of months ago. She could not imagine Miranda being able to cope by herself this afternoon had she not been able to come.

Ritchie tried to reason with her last night and Hermione knew that he had a point. She was a fugitive, and unless things got cleared up soon, it would only be a matter of time before the Ministry found her employment records and her university acceptance. Anyone with half a brain who did a quick Muggle database search would find her in an instant because all her university records bore her real name.

She had been contemplating what to tell Miranda since she came in at three, finally settling on a story about taking a long trip to visit Africa. After all, that wouldn’t be too weird; Hermione did want to visit Africa. She would tell her tonight, just before closing. And it was too bad about University; before the arrest Hermione was really looking forward to going back to school again.

It was 8:30pm, half an hour before closing, when the crowds finally started dwindling, strangely, almost abruptly. In five minutes, the Bookstore was empty save for her and Miranda. It must have been the drastic weather change she noticed when she looked out the window; from the forecasted calm and mellow to the now cold and windy. It looked like it was starting to rain, too.

Earlier, Hermione had tried and failed a few more times to get her phone to work. She tried again, hoping to finally talk with Harry since biting his head off this morning. She owed him an apology and she had to ask him how the conversation with Gomez went.

No such luck. The phone was still dead.

That was really strange. Miranda’s phone was the same and she just remembered how some customers were complaining how they were having phone issues within campus. Weird. The only time something similar ever happened before was when she and Lowes were testing…

She swore in her head. She should have known; staff calling in sick, phones not working, busier day than usual and judging by the sudden shift in weather, Dementors in the area. The Ministry had found her. It was a trap, a trap that on paper was set-up to send her straight to Azkaban with minimum confrontation.

As far as she knew the Magical Travel Containment Tunnel had not passed any of the safety trials. In fact, when she left the project more than a year ago, Dorner, despite protestations from Lowes, had shelved it. The purpose of the device was to send Dark Wizards straight to Azkaban without needing Aurors to subdue them, by creating a catchment area which siphoned all outgoing magical travelers into a set coordinate, like Azkaban for instance. What it was not designed for was to execute and last year, that was what it was doing to test animals.

That was the reason why she left the project. She was vehemently against testing on live subjects when they couldn’t even send jello through without it exploding into pieces. That and she just couldn’t stand working with Lowes anymore, even collaboratively. Gomez must have dug up the Tunnel and resurrected it. Hermione thought it would really be ironic if she were the first human to ever use it.

Summoning a University and Area map from one of the shelves, she wondered what the net radius was. She tried to recall the maximum catchment area they were able to achieve; was it five or ten miles? No, it would be a mathematical improbability to sustain a beam that massive for a period of six hours. And definitely not in London; Gomez was not that irresponsible.

Hermione looked at the map to see what would make sense. From customer conversations, it would be at least a quarter, maybe half a mile around the Bookstore. She had to leave earlier, before the Dementors were sent in to try to apprehend her. She had to talk to Miranda first and Miranda was not one to chat quickly. She hated that she had to use magic and implant a memory in the interest of saving time.

Her brain chugged frantically for an escape plan. Half a mile might be a stretch on foot trying to fight off wizards, witches and Dementors. Maybe she could use a Muggle mode of transportation, like a bicycle or car perhaps. No, she didn’t want to go through the University Park that flanked the Bookstore on the east. The Park was on the edge a city forest and park system and she did not want to risk getting lost in there with Dementors in the area. Her experience in the Forbidden Forest against Dementors and amongst the herd of centaurs and Grawp came to mind. No, if at all possible, she was not going through there.

She closed her eyes, thinking, ‘Happy thought, happy thought, happy thought.” Just in case. She decided that if needed, she would be using the few days old memory of seeing Harry at St. Mungo’s, of using his wand to talk to him.

Just as she stood up to go and see Miranda, a couple stopped outside the main double doors covered under matching yellow raincoats from head to toe, dripping wet. It was now raining cats and dogs. She watched them as they both got rid of their raincoats. Blue and pink hair immediately drew her attention. She saw the young man with the blue hair open the front door and slip into the Bookstore after the woman with pink hair. Something about him was familiar, she thought, as he closed the door, though she would have remembered if she had seen him before. Her gaze followed Blue as he walked towards the cash register and started talking with Miranda. She smiled to herself as she could almost hear Miranda telling the lad off that nobody was born with blue hair for a reason.

His partner, Pink, was just a few aisles away from where Hermione was. Alarm bells rang in her head as she noticed Pink was not browsing the shelves for books but looking for something else, likely someone else. Robbers? That would be too much of a coincidence if that were to happen tonight, too. She looked over to where Miranda was, still talking to Blue. Then she saw it, a wand, discretely aimed at Miranda. Ministry scouts.

She took her wand out and crept up behind Pink, surprising her adversary with a poke in the back as she summoned the other witch’s wand silently. Hermione wanted to talk to her and maybe convince her to part with the capture plan.

“Turn around slowly,” Hermione said, almost whispering, and a bit relieved as she glimpsed and saw that Blue was still talking with Miranda, quite animatedly.

As Pink turned towards Hermione, the former had a wide grin, “Nice place of work, Hermione. Though it’s kind of the first place anyone with brains would look if they were searching for you.”

Hermione did not let her guard down even as Pink morphed back to her usual self, “Thanks for dropping by, Tonks. By the way, pink hair isn’t really you. What curse would you prefer? Your choice, for old times’ sake.”

She never met Blue and didn’t know whether he was Ministry or Order.

“Put your wand away, she’s with me,” Hermione heard Harry’s familiar voice behind her. What was he doing here? As she turned she was surprised to see the man with blue hair, a frown quickly formed on her face. He looked nothing like Harry. Harry showed himself briefly but kept the disguise, just in time, before Hermione could hex him.

“But how…” Hermione had questions but was interrupted, her words muffled by a kiss. She kissed him back, feeling her worries slipping away.

They reluctantly stopped after they heard repeated throat clearing in the background.

“I missed you,” he said to her, softly.

“Obviously,” Tonks retorted, with a huge smile on her face, “Way to go, Harry. You finally got your girl! I’m so happy, for both of you!”

Tonks gave them a very generous hug as they smiled at her, both a bit embarrassed, not so much about their openness but about their inability to control. A fleeting thought of trepidation passed Hermione’s mind as it processed what Tonks just said, though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly what came over her. Everything about them was dreamlike up until now. It was as if the fact that someone magical knew about them made it real. Was it fear of failure and fear of disappointing someone else if this thing with Harry did not work out?

Harry must have seen it in her eyes, “Tonks, we’d appreciate it if you don’t tell anyone. There’s so much going on and…”

“Hush. I can keep a secret,” Tonks butted in, “We do have to start moving. Dementors are visiting in a few minutes, and it’s not to buy a book.”

“And Hermione, we shouldn’t disapparate,” Harry added.

She nodded, giving Tonks her wand back and taking out the map she was working on, “I know. The Tunnel interferes with phone signals and the phones haven’t been working since I got here. I should have realized it sooner but we were so busy, I didn’t put it together until a few minutes ago. Somebody must have been directing people to come in and to just buy anything.”

“A couple of witches at the end of University Main St.,” Tonks said, “So you know of this device that funnels disapparitionists and portkey users straight to Azkaban? They said Lowes designed it.”

Hermione could not help but guffaw at the suggestion, “I don’t know if Lowes ever designed a thing in his life and I don’t know if the Tunnel ever sent anyone to Azkaban. Did they say what the radius was?”

“Five miles.”

“That’s impossible. You must mean half a mile,” she said plainly. Where did that come from?

“That’s what Rita said.”

No wonder. Skeeter always had a flare for exaggeration.

She said to Harry, “The pest was obviously pulling your leg. She probably wanted to make this more newsworthy. I hope you did not promise her another Harry Potter interview.”

“Not exactly,” Harry had that look that he had done something regrettable. He quickly asked, “Why can’t it be five miles?”

She told them and added, “London is too dense a city to do that; how many witches and wizards do you think disapparated within a five mile radius since three this afternoon? So, unless there have been mysterious disappearances or deaths in the area within the last six hours, it can’t be a five miles. And I can’t believe Gomez would be so callous and irresponsible. Dorner shelved the Tunnel a year ago because of dire side effects.”

“Side effects?”

That was Tonks.

“Death by splinching.”

“So you know how it’s supposed to work. Is there a way around it so we can actually disapparate to where we want to go?” Harry asked.

She designed it to be wizard and witch proof. Unfortunately, that aspect of the Tunnel worked well.

“No, unless we can get someone to turn off the beam former or disable the satellite that’s directing it to this area. We just need to get out of the catchment area, by foot or by Muggle transportation,” she encircled what she thought the area was on the map.

“Half a mile. That’s not too bad,” Tonks pointed to the map, east of the Bookstore, “How about the Park?”

“I’d rather not go through there,” Hermione did not share her earlier thoughts but Harry would know why.

Tonks replied, “There’s going to be a bit of a problem if you choose not to go through there. Some of Dean’s portraits of you were found an hour ago hidden in his London studio.”

Hermione understood. Gomez must have planted the evidence, “So Muggles are looking for me, too.”

Tonks nodded, “With our guys, they are positioned a quarter of a mile on the North, South and West perimeter and have started checking every individual and vehicle passing through. There aren’t many to check this time of the night. You’ve been tagged as armed and very dangerous. Everybody has the green light to shoot and curse first and ask questions later. Ritchie suggested going through the forest to prevent a nasty encounter with Magical and Muggle Law Enforcement.”

She was not thrilled about causing a massive incident that would jeopardize the secrecy of the magical world, either, but Ritchie never met a Dementor in his life.

Harry read her mind, “I’ll be with you.”

He obviously felt that was the best way to go, too. Hermione nodded; it was a comfort that Harry was coming with her. She hoped her happy thought was happy enough. Unlike Harry, she had never used her Patronus on a real Dementor before.

“Let me send Miranda home, first,” there was no telling what mood the Dementors would be in if they didn’t find their prisoner.

“I took care of that,” Harry said, and muttered, “At least I tried to.”

As if on cue, Miranda appeared at the end of the aisle and walked towards them, “Hermione, a word before I go.”

Hermione and Miranda walked a couple of feet away from Harry and Tonks. With their backs turned but fully aware they could be overheard, Miranda spoke candidly, “I don’t know what happened between you and that fine gentleman with the blonde hair he was born with. He was so perfect for you, even took me aside to say he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you,” she was giving Harry a most disapproving look, “I have a bad feeling, If you have doubts about this one, please entertain them, for your sake. Tell me all about your trip when you get back. I hope the rest will replenish what seems to be a dearth of common sense.”

Miranda had a point about common sense not being part of all of this, “I appreciate your concern. We’ll have tea when I get back,” Hermione hugged her before she disappeared out the front door.

“She was talking about Ritchie, wasn’t she?” Harry had a most annoyed expression on his face when she rejoined them. Was he upset that somebody she knew preferred Ritchie over him?

“Don’t take it too personally,” she tried to reassure him, “Miranda would marry Ritchie in an instant if she were less than twice his age. What exactly did you tell her?”

“I wasn’t too confident with my memory implantation skills. So I decided to talk like a Muggle to her,” Harry tried to explain.

Tonks had transformed Hermione’s hair to the same pink she was wearing and changed Hermione’s clothes to what she had on.

“And? Where did you say I was going?” Hermione summoned her backpack.

“A long trip. She asked who with, and I said I was taking you. Then she asked who I was, and I said we were seeing each other. Then she asked if you fell and hit your head hard recently, to which I said no. Next time, I’m planting the stupid memory.”

Hermione was laughing at how badly Harry faired in his exchange with Miranda. Harry seemed pleased she thought that was funny.

Tonks morphed to an older woman with spectacles and greying hair, and changed into appropriate clothes. She was telling Hermione what the plan was, “Guys, I’d really rather leave before they come, too.”

“Wait,” Hermione conjured a piece of parchment and quill, started composing a brief note to Healer Frances that she could be delayed and not to wait. She performed a spell and the words on the note disappeared from plain sight, leaving just the healer’s name.

“So it does exist,” Harry commented.

“Please get this to Healer Frances,” she said to Tonks then turned to Harry, “What exists?”

Tonks pressed, “You really have to go.”

“The confidentiality spell,” Harry replied as they each went under the yellow raincoats he and Tonks arrived with.

“Of course it does,” Hermione answered.

The rain was now a light drizzle and they quickly slipped off to the East of the bookstore, getting on the edge of the park past the parking lot. It was dark out. They walked briskly. Hermione did not notice anyone following them.

Harry did mention finding out about the confidentiality spell in Ron’s memory of when she asked Ron’s help. Did his remark imply he thought she was lying to Ron about it? “Why would you think it didn’t exist?” There was a bit of edge in her voice.

Harry tried to downplay its significance, “It’s just that I couldn’t find anyone who knew it existed. I admit, I had my doubts but since I got back I’ve been finding out a lot of things that you do and did that nobody knows exists. I think that’s amazing.”

Hermione felt a bit warm in the face. She had a feeling he had a question, “Flattery will get you somewhere, but what?”

“I’m still curious why you asked for Ron’s help. You could have done this by yourself.”

She did not lie, “I wanted the report finished as quickly as possible.”

Harry nodded but Hermione knew he was not convinced. Harry had always been less gullible than Ron. She sensed disappointment as he let go of the discussion.

That’s one. Hermione made a mental note of Harry’s question and her pathetic answer, wondering how many more of it they could endure. They should have talked about this earlier. It was only a matter of time before Harry would ask a question she knew she would choose not to answer. She preferred that they were somewhere else when that moment came because right here, right now was just the wrong place and time.

xxxxxxxxxx

At the same instance, at St. Mungo’s, there was peace and quiet that was nowhere else to be found. Ronald Weasley lay serenely as a couple of sentries sat just outside his room. He had a visitor who was deep in meditation.

“Whatever happens, stay quiet and don’t come out of the closet.”

It was a familiar woman’s soft voice talking with a very serious and worried expression on her face. She never looked that scared before.

“Yes, Mummy,” a small voice replied as the child was hugged and kissed. Suddenly, there was total darkness save for the light coming through the closet keyhole.

There was a loud crash. Shaking, the young one peered through the small opening to see what was happening. The door to their apartment was on the floor and the woman was standing in the living room with a most horrified expression on her face. There was a man with her, a man who was taking off a turban, a man with two faces.

“My Lord, you’re alive…” the woman’s voice quivered.

“Of course I am!” the two-faced man’s voice was harsh and terrifying, “You were one of my loyal Death Eaters, my personal Healer for many years. But you disobeyed my wishes, Elise. I was clear when I said I have no use for a child of my own because I will live forever!”

“The child doesn’t have to know. No one will know.”

“I will know!”

“…your flesh and blood…”

“I do not want it!”

The Cardinal felt no emotion about being Voldemort’s unwanted child. Self-pity ran out a long time ago. That was just a total waste of time and there were more important matters to think about.

Granger played her cards well and Gomez had panicked, sending Potter and Shacklebolt his confidential Ministry files. Hopefully, Potter and the Aurors would not see it, but it was there, in plain sight. It would be interesting to know how Gomez planned to disentangle himself from his history with T.M. Didler.

Gomez was cunning not to involve the Aurors in the operation to capture Granger, and it remained to be seen if Gomez was going to succeed tonight. The University grounds were still being searched and she had not yet turned up at St. Mungo’s where she was expected. The Cardinal was counting on Granger to elude capture. Hopefully she wasn’t going to be hurt too badly.

As the Cardinal was enjoying the calm, seated beside Weasley’s immobile figure, preparing for the next cardinal murder, one of the Healers came in, startled.

“Oh! I thought you were someone else. I received an Owl from the Head Auror that security is being tightened. Are you with the Ministry?”

“I’m just visiting, Healer Frances.”

Healer Frances was not surprised the visitor knew her name, “Visiting hours ended fifteen minutes ago.”

“Yes. I was just about to leave.”

The Cardinal stood up and started walking towards the door when Healer Frances asked, “Do I know you?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Of course, how could I miss it!” Healer Frances was excited, “You have her eyes.”

“I’m sorry. You must have me mistaken for someone else.”

Healer Frances explained, “I knew your mother. Before she passed on, Elise worked here for quite a number of years. But you should remember. You used to tag along when you were about seven or eight. I must say, now that you’ve grown, you’re starting to look a lot like her.”

Chapter 27 – The Talk

About ten city blocks away from St. Mungo’s, Ritchie was in his midnight blue 2002 Saab on a stakeout. A cigarette butt flew out of his window, joining the earlier ones that met the same fate on the sidewalk. He needed a new car ashtray. Terrible habit, as Jane suggested when she got rid of his old one, but today was definitely a good day to have a relapse. He needed a relapse. As he lit another one, he said to himself, “I’ll quit tomorrow.”

He was parked across the street from the London address which housed the charity named as Gomez’ pension beneficiary and was keeping an eye on the entrance of the building. All was quiet. Nothing exciting. Beside him on the passenger’s seat was a two-inch thick file on the charity that one of the assistants at the Yard had dug up for him on short notice.

On paper, the Saint Lamb Homes Foundation was not unlike any other Muggle charity. It came into existence in June 1995 and according to the foundation brochure, was named after an outstanding foster parent, Theresa ‘Lamb’ Lane, whose picture was in the file along with a biography. Its main purpose was to assist foster children financially and it was not surprising that Gomez would support such a cause. There was a long list of beneficiaries over the past years and it would take time to go through all the records. He checked quickly. For sure, there was no Didler or Riddle on file.

He called the Yard, “It’s Tilly. Run a name for me. Theresa Lane. Call me back. Thanks.”

Ritchie went back to his reading. Not surprisingly, the foundation’s main contributor on record was Gomez’ Muggle alter ego, Goodrich, but as he went down the list of donors, one other name caught his attention. Albus Dumbledore. The former Hogwarts Headmaster had been a supporter and at the time of his death, a handsome amount of money was donated in his name to the charity. Jane should see this, he thought as he marked the spot where the donor list was in the file. She might find more familiar names.

Ritchie was worried about her, particularly after meeting briefly with Harry and Tonks about the Ministry for Magic knowing where she was. Like Harry, he had been trying to get in touch with her, to tell her that the portraits had surfaced and that armed law enforcers were on their way to join their magical counterparts.

As much as he hated to admit it, he trusted Harry. He had to trust Harry. Harry would be with her by now and he would make sure she was going to be fine.

He wanted to be more useful but he was told (ordered) not to come anywhere near the University campus. The Chief, rightfully so, had taken him off the Muggle stabbing case when the portraits of Jane surfaced. Someone pointed out the authorization logs for the case and the Chief found out that Jane had been looking at their evidence with Ritchie’s approval. That and the powerful water cooler conversations about his ‘closer’ relationship with her left the Chief no choice.

This was both good and bad; bad because he was no longer in the loop but good because he now had more time in his hands. Time. He looked at his watch and the piece of paper on which Harry had written his home address. He did not want to be late for the meeting, if it was going to happen at all. Harry’s place was way across town.

He turned the ignition on with his bandaged right hand, put his car in gear and drove away, but not before another butt found its rightful place on the sidewalk. Thinking how much more time he would have had staking the place out had he not needed to cut across town, he cursed. This Apparition thing, he opined, was a definite wizard perk he wished he had.

XXXXXXXXXX

Barely a minute later, a faint pop of a well-performed Apparition broke the silence in the neighbourhood. Gomez noticed in disgust that someone had thought it appropriate to throw cigarette butts on the sidewalk. He crossed the street and entered the premises of the Foundation. The lights on the 1st level offices came on.

He conjured himself a drink and sat on the big leather couch, very stressed. Granger kept on proving she was a formidable adversary. The Dementors stormed an empty Bookstore a few minutes ago and were now scouring the University Campus. There was a good possibility that she would, yet again, evade captivity. This impending set back was actually truly the least of his worries.

Gomez was well aware that the Cardinal was interested in talking with him. The feeling was not mutual. This was the reason why Gomez had not gone home to his house. Why was it taking so long for the Aurors to act on the evidence he gave Shacklebolt? Granted that for appearances sake, he did not want to seem too obvious so as to put the actual folder on Shacklebolt’s lap, open it to the page, and highlight the line to him, did his staff need more clues?

His excuse would be fear. He helped the Cardinal out of fear. That wouldn’t be a stretch, not at all; especially not right now. Everyone who knew the Cardinal’s roots, except for Gomez, was dead. Elise Kline, Voldemort, Quirinus Quirrel, Albus Dumbledore and Cornelius Fudge, the latter being the only one who passed on due to natural causes. There was compelling reason that unless someone could help, he was not going to remain an exception much longer.

Elise Kline conceived Didler through the Muggle method of artificial insemination a little over a year after Voldemort gave Harry Potter his famous scar. Kline was a young foolish fanatic ensnared by Voldemort’s charisma and blinded to his evil. Gomez suspected that the kind-hearted healer loved Voldemort, adored Voldemort and rumours were they were physically intimate. But deception played a role in procuring a biological specimen without his knowledge, freezing it for future use. That deception cost Kline her life and because of it, their offspring was subjected to a childhood of orphanages and foster care.

Gomez first became privy to this secret when as an undersecretary to Cornelius Fudge, his own childhood and his charity work made him the ideal person to entrust such an important assignment. The first time he laid eyes on Didler, the child was but 11 years old, attending Hogwarts under an alias. Whether or not Voldemort was back following the Triwizard Tournament was the heated topic of the week, and Albus Dumbledore met with Cornelius Fudge, set their differences aside, to ensure the child was going to be safe.

Didler was itself an alias; Kline’s idea to shield her child from harm. However, upon acceptance into Hogwarts, Professor Dumbledore felt this was not going to be good enough and since then, the Cardinal had used the same name as one of Kline’s ancestors, St. Mungo. That would give the child a sense of pride, honour and history, even if in secrecy.

He was tasked to help the child along, to protect and to hide from Voldemort. He succeeded in his task. And he had witnessed first hand how the shy and timid eleven year old he met years ago outside the Minister for Magic’s office grew up, confident and outgoing with a most promising future within the Ministry itself.

That was until the he needed Didler to be the Enabled that was required for the completion of his plan and his quest to be Minister for Magic. That was until out of filial duty, Didler obliged. And now, his immediate pursuit was no longer to become Minister of anything; it was to have a longer life.

His head spinning and his heart pounding, Gomez downed the drink as quickly as his anatomy would allow it. Refilling his glass, he closed his eyes and hoped the Aurors would find the Cardinal before the Cardinal found him.

XXXXXXXXXX

Back at St. Mungo’s, the Healer’s recognition of the Cardinal was unexpected and it brought about an unexpected response. A few moments ago, had somebody looked up from the street, they would have noticed green light flashing through Ron Weasley’s fourth floor room windows. And what was most unexpected was that the Cardinal did not use any of Granger’s curses. Unexpected for the Cardinal, who swore never to become the common murderer that Voldemort was.

Suspecting that the meeting would not likely start on time or may not happen at all, the Cardinal Disapparated from St. Mungo’s. In a split second, cigarette butts on the sidewalk came into view. There was time for a quick stopover to visit family.

And as the Cardinal entered the edifice across the way, a midnight blue 2002 Saab parked unnoticed half a block down the street.

XXXXXXXXXX

Meanwhile, at the University, Harry and Hermione followed a footpath going deeper into the more heavily forested area of the park. Everything went pitch black. Hermione felt his hand reach for hers. Her left hand obliged, resting itself within his strong warm fingers. She could not help but remember the countless times they held hands but how this one was their first as a couple.

This isn’t really the time to get all mushy. Remember. Trees, darkness, Dementors. Focus.

Harry lit his wand and they followed the path which was headed straight east. She had a moment to watch him as his eyes scoured the area for potential dangers. She understood why he and Tonks chose to come as Pink and Blue. The more memorable they were coming in, the less scrutiny there would be coming out. Judging from the lack of shadows, the ploy succeeded.

So, he had secrets, too.

“I guess that explains why no one could find you. Since when have you been able to morph?” she asked.

“Our final year at Hogwarts,” he answered.

They were walking side-by-side, purposeful and hurried. They went as fast as Harry’s lit wand could illuminate where they were going.

Hermione realized something, “That was why you were seeing Tonks.”

“You noticed?”

“Kind of.”

How could she not? Ron could attest that the most serious mood swings Hermione ever had was during that stretch of time. Hermione remembered how jealous she was of Tonks and how guilty she was feeling that way about Harry when she was still with Ron.

Harry was curious, “Why did you think I was seeing her?”

Embarrassed, she replied, “Well, you started seeing Tonks frequently at the Three Broomsticks. Ron knew you always got a room. He suggested you and Tonks were shagging behind Remus’ back.”

Hermione could sense Harry had an amused grin, “And you believed that?”

“Well, it was really hard not to,” she answered, not expounding. That would be Ron bombarding her with observations about how exhausted Harry looked after meeting with Tonks, his disinterest in other women and his desire to keep it clandestine, even from her and Ron. Come to think of it, Ron’s annotations then were typically followed by suggestions that they get a room at the Three Broomsticks as well. Good one, Ron.

“So, why wasn’t I lectured about it?”

Hesitating, she explained, “I thought you were going through your older woman phase. And besides, being the adult it would have been Tonks’ fault.”

That and I didn’t want to admit I was jealous.

Harry just laughed, “An older woman phase. Wait till Tonks hears about this.”

“And Ron,” she said, realizing too late that Ron may never hear about it.

Hermione quickly changed the topic, “How did the talk with Gomez go?”

“He denied everything. I think the show you put on for him as the Cardinal paid off. Soon after he left Kingsley’s office, he gave us access to his confidential Ministry files. I haven’t found anything yet, and though I still have a box of documents to go through, I’m beginning to think Tonks was right about it being a wild goose chase.”

“Are you through his 1994 records yet?”

“Not yet. Why?”

“Neville found Didler, and he may have a list of suspects for us to look at tomorrow. In July 1994 Didler received financial support from Hogwarts, probably as a first year. Since there are no other Hogwarts records bearing that name, the alias likely came soon after. I’m hoping Gomez knows Didler from doing Ministry business. Look for anything even vaguely connected to Hogwarts.”

“I’ll look more closely,” Harry replied. “How’s Dean?”

“Hanging in there. You’re fine with him coming over to your place to see the twins, right?”

“Of course, and he can stay. Why the rush to get him out?”

Hermione listened carefully but did not detect any hint of negativity, “The appointment book. I just had a bad feeling when Ritchie said he could not find it. Dean is a lose end for both, and he’s seen the Cardinal many times.”

“Have you tried to look into his mind?”

“I did, briefly, but we’re going to need more time. His head is a mess, particularly now because there is also the uncertainty with Ginny,”

Talking about Dean brought her back to their argument over the phone.

“Listen, I am sorry about this morning,” Hermione apologized. “The amnesiac incident with Dean, I wasn’t sore at you. I was irate at myself for taking the potion.”

“It was terrible of me to imply it last night. And maybe you didn’t take the potion,” Harry was hopeful, but there was no sense giving him false optimism.

“I did,” she was positive. She saw his memory herself, and filled the gap that was in hers perfectly. “You had a point last night.”

“I wasn’t making a point last night,” he reminded her.

“Harry?” Hermione paused, wanting to ask him how he felt about the possibility that she may have taken potions to forget some memories in her past.

“Yeah?”

They were still moving east, deeper into the city park.

“How do you really feel about it?”

“About Dean or about you possibly taking amnesiacs?

“About both.”

It took seemingly forever for Harry to say anything and that, in itself, said a lot.

“It’s not a trick question, Harry. There are no wrong answers.” Only ones that hurt.

He was still unsure, “I don’t know. I haven’t really had time to think about it.”

Like that one. If she wanted to know what he thought she would have asked what he thought. Of course he knew how he felt, but probably thought it was too undesirable to share with her. She felt a slight twinge in her chest. It was not quite the answer from him she was hoping for.

“Can I ask you a question?” his turn.

“About?”

“This job, the course you’ve signed up for in the fall, the Muggle life you’ve been living, what is this all about?”

Her heart skipped a beat. Hermione knew this conversation was going to happen.

The Tunnel, Dementors, wands and guns. Priorities. You can talk later. Whenever you play this in your head, it always ends in a bitter argument; now is the worse time to have one.

Hermione ignored her voice of reason.

“I was leaving the Ministry, a career change,”

“You could have worked anywhere else in the Magical community.”

“I chose not to.”

“Did Ritchie ask you?”

“It was my idea.”

“I see.”

That’s two.

“Can I ask you another question?”

“Uh-huh.”

Really, this is not the moment to talk about this! Tell him you’ll talk later. You may be buying time but you’re insulting his intelligence.

“About Ritchie.”

Horses were racing in her chest.

“What about him?”

“He does know you used magic to escape and to help Dean escape, right?”

“He’s not stupid, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“So, he’s not totally against you doing magic.”

“He never was.”

“I see.”

Three and on a roll. Perhaps you should stop the bleeding. Either talk to him later or stop dancing around his questions. He knows what you’re trying to do.

Fine. You win.

“Harry…”

“Can I…”

They said simultaneously and stopped abruptly.

“Go ahead,” Harry offered.

“No, you go,” she thought, why did she do that?

Hermione was sure they were getting close to walking the half- mile. Harry stopped and turned around to face her. Maybe she should suggest that they keep walking in the general direction they were on.

The singular beam of light coming from Harry’s wand illuminated their expressions. She saw him contort his face and transform back to himself right before her very eyes. He had this grave expression that she had never seen before. About the suggestion to keep on walking - maybe not quite yet.

“Why have you been avoiding Ginny?”

Finally, Harry asked a question that she couldn’t work with. Shit. Oh, sorry.

“It wasn’t because of Dean.”

“Of course it wasn’t. And from the sound of it you’re not going to tell me what that was about, either,” Harry was starting to show frustration.

That’s four. Three would have been truly better. You’ve done quite enough so please, shut up now.

“We used to be able to talk about almost anything.”

“We stopped doing that a long time ago,” she replied, thinking it happened when she first realized he was physically attractive and couldn’t/wouldn’t do anything about it. Talking sure was better until then, when breathing around him wasn’t a problem.

“I miss that. I wish we had that back,” Harry paused and moved closer, looked into her soul, “I can continue to pretend I don’t notice that you have been skirting around the answers to my questions all night, if that will make you feel better. Though I would rather you come clean and stop making me feel stupid.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to feel that way. But I haven’t lied to you.” I will not lie to you.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. But you have not been up-front either. Are our talks always going to feel like interrogations? Tell me. What happened that was so horrible that you can’t trust me with it?”

“You know I trust you with my life, Harry. This is not about trust. It happened and it’s over with and it has nothing to do with us now. I just can’t talk about it, not with you.”

“Will you tell me eventually?”

She shook her head, “That’s all I ask; that you and I don’t ever talk about it.”

“I don’t even know what it is that we’re not supposed to talk about,” Harry was frustrated that she chose to do this. “It doesn’t have to be this way.”

It has to be, for me.

Does it really? Can you not meet him halfway and consider telling him eventually?

Hermione was wavering. She understood his dissatisfaction. Maybe it was too much to expect him to take that leap forever. Maybe she could meet him halfway. Maybe.

Ask him the questions.

“Harry, I need to know, before we go any further. If we were to stay together, can you live with this? Can you live with not knowing that part of my life? And can you live with the possibility that I may have taken the amnesiac countless times before and not be able to remember anything?”

She paused, deliberating whether she would say the next thought that was hanging around in her mind. She realized that to be forthright, she had to.

“If you can’t, it would be best to end this now.”

With every passing second, she felt a blunt knife slice and dice her heart into tiny cubes and the cut pieces seared in a hot pan. It was simple, really. Either he was fine with it, or he was not. And if he could not decide between the two immediately, then he obviously was not. She had to look away from his heartbreaking confused stare, not wanting to cry, not now, not yet, not in front of him. She couldn’t hang on to wait for an answer that may never come.

“Let me know when you decide,” she said as she turned to the path, though she already had his answer. She had to get away from him. She lit her wand and was almost running eastward.

Harry caught up with her and blocked her path, forcing her to talk to him.

“Tell me again how you feel about me.”

“You know how I feel about you,” how could he not know? Don’t cry, not now.

“I need to hear you say it in no uncertain words. What you said this morning; tell me what that means. I don’t want to have to draw any conclusions, not like today.”

She understood what he meant about today; the fight, the phones and not having had the opportunity to talk about Ritchie. But this was not how she thought it would be the first time. She wanted the first time she told him the words he wanted to hear to be a special moment; a spontaneous, unrushed, not-worried-about-Dementors moment. Being coerced into saying it was definitely not on her list of qualified moments.

Harry felt her hesitation and he pulled back, “Or is this one of the questions you’d rather not answer because you don’t want to lie to me? Do you think me so fragile that I can’t take the truth?”

What? Before she could reply, Hermione’s phone rang. That meant they were outside they catchment area. Ritchie. It was not the best time to be taking a call from him.

She was about to answer the phone to tell Ritchie she was busy, when Harry summoned it. He had this fierce, angry expression that she dared not mess with.

He said to Ritchie briskly, “We’re in the middle of something. I’ll have her call you back.” He put her phone in his pocket.

She guessed this would be a bad time to suggest Disapparating to a more safe location. She shivered. Was it getting colder?

Harry continued, noticeably very upset, “It has been terribly frustrating that the only times I’ve been able to get a hold of you or find out about you this afternoon was through Ritchie. You dragged him into our conversation about the amnesiac, and you went to him to plan and execute Dean’s escape. It seems obvious that he’s still in your life!”

“Because he is! In case you didn’t notice, we are working on this case together! And if he chooses to, he is welcome to stay in my life as long as he wants!”

“I can't believe you expect me to be okay with that!”

She was disappointed he could think she would string them both along.

“There is no reason for you to be jealous! Ritchie and I are done, Harry! We broke up!”

Harry seemed to have calmed down after hearing what she just said. Hermione briefly noticed that their wand lights were becoming dimmer. Or was it becoming darker?

“Tell me about him. Tell me about Ritchie.”

“I don’t know where to start. What do you want to know?”

“What is he to you?”

“He’s a friend. He’s a close friend and he was there during the toughest time of my life.”

“Yeah, I know. The worst time of your life that you won’t tell me about.”

“I was in a bad way and he helped me overcome it. I owe him my life, Harry.”

She was sure it did not escape Harry that she owed him her life, too, many times over.

“You were leaving your work, your friends and not using magic to have a normal Muggle life with him, even if he never asked for that.”

“You’re right, He never asked me for anything.”

Not even my love, which I wanted to but could never give.

“You obviously care a lot about him.”

She nodded, “I do.”

“He’s fine with your past.”

“Yes, he is.”

He can look past all that.

“He’s perfect.”

“Not perfect but close enough.”

“You’re better off staying with him.”

“And I would have stayed with him if you stayed away,” she felt warm because of their discussion but noticed white mist form as the words escaped Harry’s quivering mouth. What was he trying to say? Was he telling her to stay with Ritchie?

Hermione remembered what he wrote her two years ago. I wish you and Ron all the best. At least now, he was telling her personally. You’re better off staying with him. He had decided. He didn’t want her with her baggage like he didn’t want to stay two years ago to deal with Ron and his guilt. He loved her, but not enough to fight for her and not enough to look past impediments in the way of their being together.

She was getting used to that gnawing ache and it really didn’t hurt that bad, at least not anymore.

“You’re not making sense!” Harry was upset. “Why are you throwing away your relationship with the perfect guy for someone you can’t even share your past with? Why leave him to be with me?”

Hermione thought the answer was so obvious, “Because I …”

“Watch out!!!”

Harry pulled her towards him and shielded her from an oncoming attack. Only then did she appreciate just how cold and dark it was around them. Dementors. She could smell putrid foul smelling breath very close by. They had to get away. But she didn’t want to Disapparate without making sure they were out of the catchment area. Harry had her phone and he just went off to challenge a group of Dementors.

She whirred around to get a sense of what they had to deal with. There were numerous, too many to count. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him fight off a couple of Dementors with his Patronus. Several black hooded gliding figures were approaching and blocked him off from her view. It wasn’t meant to be.

Hermione concentrated on the memory she had decided on; Harry at St. Mungo’s, using his wand to talk with him. The memory that a few short minutes ago was sure to lift her spirits up, now reduced to nothing out of the ordinary. Why did she pick a memory that could go either way?

“Expecto Patronum!”

A small wisp of light emanated from the tip of her wand and quickly dissipated.

The memory of her parents’ funeral filled her with sadness almost instantaneously, weakening her considerably. Unedited thoughts fleeted into her consciousness. It was better then, believing that you didn’t care about me at all; it’s worse now knowing that you do love me but not enough.

“Expecto Patron..nu…,” she tried again, her voice less confident. An even feebler spark came from her wand.

Harry’s farewell letter from two years ago and the horrible emotions as she read it resurfaced. It was followed by snippets of what she endured the past six months. She half expected it would happen once more, if she ever survived tonight. It could be a blessing if she didn’t. She did not want to go through that again.

Her legs gave way and she fell on her back, feeling the cool moist earth where her skin touched ground. She was so cold and the dark figures around her were all a blur. Numb all over, her wand must have slipped off her fingers.

Was this it? After years of fighting against the most evil wizard and escaping death so many times, was she going to die in a cold dark forest after all? She was fine with that. There was really nothing left for her to stay in this life anymore. She was on to the next big adventure…hopefully one with a more cheerful ending.

Hermione wanted to see Harry one last time. She had to tell him what she was about to say before they were interrupted. She tried to turn her head to where she last saw him. There was just darkness, of varying degrees, fading in and out. She wished fervently that he was okay. She opened her mouth to call out but no voice escaped her lips.

With all the strength she could muster and knowing fully well that he was not going to hear it, she imagined a perfect moment. No, she was not going to be rushed by the fact that she was about to lose consciousness. If she was going to do this only once she was going to do this right.

She closed her eyes and played out her memory, the one of their night two years ago. In her living room, warmly lit by the fireplace, with Harry. They had just said it would be one night. And it would be.

He said, his green eyes ablaze with passion and longing for her, “I love you.”

Holding that thought, she used Legiventroliqy to send to his image what she wanted to let him know, “I love you, Harry. And I always will.”

She was done.

There was a shiny silvery light at the end of a cave of darkness she was in and Hermione felt herself float towards it. She never looked back, not having any reason to.

Then there was absolute darkness.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter - not mine but JK Rowling's.

Chapter 28 – The Last Phial

After driving away two blocks and circling around to come back, Ritchie now knew what Ron meant. It was good that Ron mentioned not to be spooked when it happened because both he and Harry had experienced it.

“Littering is disrespectful, inconsiderate and against the law.”

It was Jane. He looked around his car, thinking she might have just apparated, but there was no one in the car with him. Then he realized it was his conscience with Jane’s voice. Weird. He didn’t really even care that much about littering. It kept on repeating itself and after two blocks he could no longer ignore it. The thought of it plaguing him all the way across town was unbearable.

“Littering is disrespectful, inconsiderate and against the law.”

“Yes, yes, but you should have thought about that before tossing my ashtray out.”

“Littering is disrespectful, inconsiderate and against the law.”

Apparently, it was not interactive.

As he was about half a block away and training his sight at the spot where his cigarette butts lay peacefully, he saw a hooded figure suddenly appear in the alley close to it. No matter how much he strained at the outline, it was a misfortune that poor lighting prevented him from seeing anything distinguishable.

He watched as the entity crossed the street. At the dimly lit entrance of the edifice that housed the Saint Lamb Homes Foundation, a sudden gust of wind momentarily exposed a tuft of blonde hair before the individual entered, without knocking or ringing the bell. Ritchie also noticed that the lights on the first level office were on and a silhouette of a seated figure, likely a wizard, was visible through the window.

Ritchie parked and assessed the situation. He, a lowly Muggle, was by himself. Possibly two wizards were inside and one of them could be the Cardinal. It was a no-brainer. He took out his phone and called the obvious. A curse flew out of his mouth. Still not in service.

He tried Harry and got the same result; he was exceeding his average number of expletives per day easily. Drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, he contemplated calling the Chief, but that would tip off Gomez. He took out a piece of paper and wrote out what he was about to do, knowing it was a bad idea. Of course, it would have made more sense to wait for either Jane or Harry to come.

Just before alighting the car, he tried Jane one more time.

Finally!

“Jane, it’s me.”

But it wasn’t Jane who answered.

“Harry, wait…” and the phone was dead.

They were in the middle of something. Great! He shook an unwanted image from his mind but it was too late to stop the pain from coming. Take it like a man, Tilly. Suck it up.

Phone on vibrate and gun in hand, he quietly walked towards the front of the building under the windowsill. He couldn’t hear a thing. Maybe there was an entrance in the back.

He walked around and started checking for open windows and other possible entrances. There was a backdoor but there was neither a lock to pick nor a knob to dismantle.

Ritchie didn’t have a warrant, not even probable cause, to barge in and arrest anyone. What if he knocked and flashed his badge, maybe say he was investigating some made up call across the street?

The advantage was he would be able to meet the two individuals in there, maybe even get them to tell him who they were. They were dodgy characters for sure; it was way too late at night for them to be employees of the foundation. The danger was he could be stunned, or worse, be killed. Hmmm…meet some suspects, get killed or both? On any other day, he would not be so idiotic. But today, having just lost his girlfriend, taken up smoking again, and now, hearing she was getting along extremely well with the love of her life, he was feeling kind of crazy, not to mention stupid. Crazy and stupid were a terrible twosome to feel at the same time while on a stakeout.

Ritchie paced confidently and deliberately towards the front entrance but a few feet before he got to the door, he felt his phone vibrate. Jane. He retraced his steps to a more soundproof location, pressed the button to answer.

And again, it wasn’t Jane. Harry told Ritchie to come to his house quickly and told him the reason. Totally forgetting why he was where he was and what he was doing, Ritchie got into his car quickly and sped off to Number 12 Grimmauld Place. He turned his lights and siren on, wishing he could apparate to get there faster. So much for trusting Harry Potter to make sure she would be fine.

XXXXXXXXXX

Inside the Foundation, the sudden sound of a siren interrupted the Cardinal’s train of thought. It was almost time for the meeting at Harry Potter’s house and anticipation was high about whether or not Hermione Granger would make it.

Fear permeated the air and that was the one emotion the Cardinal was very familiar with. The Cardinal knew real dread, having learned and felt it first hand years ago when Voldemort took Elise Kline’s life. And absolute terror was an easily recognizable emotion having seen it so many times in the past four months while in the act of completing the murders.

The Cardinal was more than halfway through with the second set of slayings. Lowes was killed, kind of accidentally; he was quite an annoying man; Dorner, because Miguel asked it to be done. Lyle Franks’ was out of necessity; he knew T.M.Didler and while it was unknown whether or not Franks saw that name on the Lumos enabled list, there was a risk Franks could connect the old and new aliases for Granger. Malfoy was Miguel’s idea, because it made sense for Granger to want Malfoy dead. It was a good thing that it failed; it allowed the Cardinal to select a more appropriate subject. And Snape’s murder was to retaliate for his betrayal of the father the Cardinal never knew.

The next three murders were already decided, all Cardinal picks. The last two would be individuals Granger would least want dead. The next one was personal, to avenge for lost innocence and decency.

XXXXXXXXXX

Sometime after, Hermione regained awareness. She remembered darkness, Dementors and lying on the cool moist earth. No, whatever she was on it was way more comfortable and warmer. Oh yes, the silvery light at the mouth of the cave. Was she dead?

Hermione caught a whiff of something burnt and felt a familiar hand take hers. No such luck. She realized she was still alive. Hermione was disappointed, on all counts.

“If I’m dead and then you must have joined me by smoking yourself to the grave,” she tried to say but it took great effort and her voice kept breaking off. As she opened her ton-heavy lids, she was not surprised to see Ritchie seated beside her on the bed, thinking it was too bad he was smoking again. She heard someone disapparate as he smiled at her.

“Don’t waste your strength on trying to be funny. You’re supposed to take these the moment you wake up,” he pointed to chocolate bars and a reviving potion on the side table, one of Madam Pomfrey’s.

“He’s okay, right?” her voice still weak but it sounded better. She knew Harry would be but needed to hear it from someone.

Ritchie glanced behind him at the seat in the shadows, “Don’t worry, he’s fine. I checked him out myself for you, not one scratch.”

So he was here, but yet again, he had passed on the opportunity to be with her, giving it to someone else. She hoped Ritchie didn’t notice the momentary anguish that would have flitted in her eyes just as a throbbing discomfort erupted in her chest.

Hermione looked around and recognized where she was. She had to leave. She got up but couldn’t will any of her muscles to cooperate, almost falling off the bed had it not been for Ritchie.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Ritchie coaxed her back in.

“The meeting, then Ron. We should go…” she found good reasons to get up and tried to do it again but without success.

“The meeting finished about half an hour ago. You need to rest,” Ritchie gave her a bar of milk chocolate and she started eating it, fast.

“Who came?”

“I’ve never met so many wizards and witches in my life. It was kind of overwhelming. I met most of Ron’s family, some of the other Ministry Aurors, some of your friends from Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall was here and Madam Pomfrey came to attend to you. There was Moody and Remus.”

“How did it go?”

“Harry and I talked to them about everything we knew for sure happened and who we think are involved. We really didn’t get into too much detail about Lumos and the counters. There was quite a discussion about how to proceed but we had to cut the meeting short when the Aurors had to leave for an emergency. By the way, about teaching Harry tonight, he says it’s best to postpone.”

She nodded. That was a good idea. If she was having these undesirable aches in her chest and throat each time she heard his name, spending time alone with him right now would just be masochistic. They did need to continue their conversation, but for her, it was more to formally end it as she had said they should. She had to think about something else. Why was the meeting abbreviated?

“What was the emergency?”

Ritchie hesitated before telling her.

“There were perplexing deaths tonight at St. Mungo’s.”

She felt blood drain from her face and must have looked ghastly because Ritchie was quick to assure her, “No, no, Ron’s fine. Though it happened in Ron’s room. His guards and…and Healer Frances.”

Healer Frances. From their few brief interactions she only had utmost admiration for the healer. But, why her? The Cardinal said family was next. Was she related to the Cardinal? If only they had T.M. Didler’s birth records to know possible relatives. Wait.

“Perplexing?”

“The Killing Curse, all of them. No note either and no indication if it was or wasn’t the Cardinal. Healer Frances was killed first.”

She had a set baffled look. They had to make some assumptions. Because it happened in Ron’s room it had to be related to the Cardinal case, and if that were true then it almost certainly would have been the Cardinal. Was the Cardinal cracking under the pressure, getting less fixated on killing using just Cardinal curses? Giving up after having meticulously done it for Muggles and being on track for the wizard murders?

Hermione hoped not. There were a couple of clear distinctions between the Killing Curse and the Cardinal Curses. The Killing Curse was intended to kill whereas the effects of the Cardinal Curses varied and depended on the intention of the envoker. And while in the hands of the Cardinal the end result for both was death, at least the Cardinal curses had counters. It was a relief that Ron, evidently, wasn’t on the Cardinal list. Hermione shared her thoughts with Ritchie.

“Harry also thinks it’s the Cardinal.”

“Maybe Healer Frances caught him by surprise.”

“Harry thinks the Cardinal panicked and just reacted.”

“The murders are not random; at least we don’t think they are. Why would he kill Healer Frances?”

“Harry wonders if she recognized him.”

“So, what is it? I must be doing something noticeable every time you say his name,” she was not angry, she didn’t have the energy to be. She knew he was fishing.

“It’s the left eye,” he motioned, “An almost imperceptible twitch.”

She’d have to watch that. She could only force a smile, because if she didn’t, she would cry, “Don’t be such a meanie, then. Stop saying his name.”

“What happened at the University? Why does it feel like he’s pushing you back to me?”

Good. Consistency, at least, and no room for doubt.

“That should be obvious.”

“You gave him heat and he had to get out of the kitchen. You didn’t tell him,”

She didn’t have to answer. Ritchie would know that if she did, Harry would be sitting in his stead, holding her hand, even if she gave him hell-intense heat. That was precisely why she couldn’t tell him.

“It’s too bad it didn’t go your way,” Ritchie continued.

Yeah, it’s too bad.

Hermione suddenly stood up without help, surprising even herself. She felt so much better after eating a block of chocolate and chugging a few mouthfuls of Madam Pomfrey’s potion. Quite determined to leave Harry’s house though uncertain of where to go to recuperate, she wrote a note of thanks to the homeowner. St. Mungo’s was a definite scratch; Ron’s room would be crawling with law enforcement and in her state, she didn’t think the healing spell would be of any benefit. Maybe tomorrow. That meant tonight, she could visit an old friend. She was sure he wouldn’t mind giving her some peace of mind.

She got her stuff together, including the yearbooks she sent over from Hogwarts, and exited the room despite Ritchie’s objections, telling him she was leaving with or without his help. It turned out that she did need assistance. She lost her footing on the stairs and had it not been for the availability of Ritchie’s hand, she would have done more damage to herself.

“Ouch!” Ritchie yelped as Hermione had grabbed and on instinct, squeezed his hand as she was about to fall; his bandaged right hand.

“What happened to this?” she asked as she started to unwrap the bandages at the foot of the stairs.

“It’s fine, it’s just a paper cut, from mail today.”

Hermione had yet to see a paper cut cause injury that would need the whole hand wrapped up and cause the amount of pain she caused by squeezing it. She dragged him to the Potter kitchen where she knew Dobby kept quick remedies for minor cuts and wounds. She found an owl feather within the wound and gave him a most annoyed look for trying to lie to her, suspecting Harry had something to do with it. It was quite infected.

“You should have asked someone to look at this earlier,” she gave him a reproachful look.

“I’ve been busy.”

“Ow!” Ritchie withdrew his hand as she cleaned the wound a bit more vigorously than she had to.

“Oh, don’t be such a baby!” she snapped at him.

Typical, them both! It wasn’t even about her!

Owl bites could be nasty and Hermione had never seen one so bad. Sitting opposite him and working in silence, she did her best and it took some time before she was satisfied. After applying a clean dressing, she looked up and met a most disarming gaze that she had seen so many times in the past two months. He must have been staring at her for quite some time. After a brief moment, he touched her face with his well hand.

“You know I would take you in any way, shape or form.”

She wished he would stop doing that. Irrational as it was, it was a statement, a declaration. Only she wished it came from someone else.

Hermione took his hand from her face and held it as she expressed regret in her eyes, shaking her head lightly. It wouldn’t be fair. She imagined there would be no more roller coasters for the next little while.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Neither heard Harry as he left the adjacent room after witnessing their exchange, having come as she was putting on a fresh bandage on Ritchie’s hand. Sending Mr. Pecker had definitely backfired. He went back to his study, forgetting his hunger that was the reason for his coming down to the kitchen. He couldn’t face her, not yet.

Harry tried to get some work done at the Ministry after knowing for sure Hermione was going to be fine. Unable to concentrate from worry, he brought the Gomez files home thinking that he would be close enough in case something happened. Of course, he didn’t count on her leaving tonight. She probably needed space.

He needed space. There had been no opportunity to reflect on how he truly felt about this more secretive and closed off version of Hermione that he found today. He needed heartfelt answers to her questions before he could talk to her again, particularly about her insistence on not talking about her recent past. And most of all, he needed to be sure about what her intentions were and for this, he needed help. While it troubled him that he couldn’t be at her side tonight, he trusted Ritchie to make sure she would be fine.

He looked at the note she left on the guest room side table.

Harry,

Thanks for the hospitality. You saved my life, yet again. You really shouldn’t have.

Hermione

So, the next time Dementors tried to kiss her, she wanted him to watch her die. He crushed it in his hand. Right now, he had to think about something else.

Flipping through the Gomez files from the 1990s, everything looked like the same unrelated stuff he was reading earlier in the day. Then he got to 1994. There was nothing at first pass and nothing the other three times he went over it with a fine-tooth comb. That was dejecting; so much for that theory.

Going through the motions for the remainder of the documents, he stopped and stared at a journal entry in Gomez’ handwriting.

28 June 1995

Meeting with the Minister and Professor Dumbledore

RE: T.M.Didler, Saint Lamb Homes Foundation

Through notes that followed, he found out that Didler’s mother was a Healer, Elise Kline. Kline was a descendant of St. Mungo himself, and had been working at St. Mungo’s about a year before Didler was born up until her mysterious death in 1991. Healer Frances probably knew Kline and must have recognized Didler in Ron’s room. All of this pointed to Didler being the Cardinal.

But why didn’t Didler kill Ron? Everybody else was dead and every opportunity was there to do him in. The only logical explanation he could think of was that Didler didn’t want Ron to die. He sent Hedwig with a quick note to Kingsley, suggesting that Gomez might indeed be in danger. Kingsley would know what to do.

It was close to one in the morning when Harry finished. He did not find anything else in Gomez’ file. Tomorrow, they would confront Gomez about his meeting regarding Didler and maybe they could find Didler through the Saint Lamb Homes Foundation. Neville also had that list he was putting together. They were so close to finding out who Didler was; he just hoped that once they did, they could stop the murders.

Work now out of the way, Harry’s idle mind kept replaying his conversation with Hermione at the University. He had to get some air to think. Flying would have been perfect except his broom was way across the Atlantic. A walk would have to do.

Hermione had asked him questions he didn’t expect. He froze both times. That was bad, he realized, but he still thought it was better than babbling, or worse, saying something he did not really mean.

Of course, he knew how he felt about her taking the amnesiac with Dean. There was disappointment that she found it necessary to take it and apprehension of what could be, that she may have taken it more than that one time and that he might come across something about her he would find unbearable. He should have blurted that out, but at that time, he wasn’t clear what that meant to them. That and he didn’t want to say anything to hurt her.

There was nothing he could do with the disappointment he felt; it already happened. The fact that it was Dean made it complicated, but really, it could have been anyone. However, he kept asking himself what ‘unbearable’ was? And did that really matter?

The only serious relationship he ever had before was with Ginny and there were nothing to gleam from that experience to help him with this one. Could he live with this? Could he live with the prospect of having this ‘unbearable’ thing hang over them? What if the event in her past that she did not want him to know was unbearable, too? He agreed with Hermione; if he could not accept that she would not discuss that with him it would be the scab that they would continually pick at throughout their relationship, a wound that would never heal.

He took a step back, realizing he was so focused on the ‘may’ and the ‘might’. In all fairness, the amnesiac with Dean may have been the one and only time she did take it, so there would be nothing unbearable there to expect. And Hermione did say whatever happened had nothing to do with them now. Based on these, he should have had no problem answering her questions.

Then it hit him. He felt unwell recognizing what his apprehension was about.

It was about trust.

Over the years, he had come to trust her as a friend. He trusted her with his life and knew that she would not intentionally do anything to hurt him. As his friend, he did not have any qualms about that; but as intimate partners?

That was not an issue two years ago, definitely not when he was thinking about her at Hogwarts. He figured that the circumstances around his leaving compounded by the time they spent away from each other and their unshared experiences may have eroded into that. It did not help that she wasn’t as open to him as she was in the past. Was this instance of deliberate concealment enough to not trust her judgment that this incident was something he didn’t have to know about? Did he trust her with his heart somewhat or did he not trust her at all, because if it was the latter, Harry wasn’t keen on building a relationship without trust.

Was trust black and white, and absolute trust merely a redundant exaggeration? Or were there varying degrees of trust, earned and lost all the time; had he lost some of hers in him when he left and had she lost some of his in her by not telling him everything from the very beginning? He believed it to be the latter.

Obviously, she did not think he was trustworthy enough to do the right thing with whatever it was she was not sharing with him. In fact, an ultimate show of faith would be telling him everything about it.

She was adamant not to talk about it. Knowing Hermione, she wouldn’t back down on this and she was serious about ending it now if he didn’t do as she asked. Whatever it was, she was willing to let go of what they had and could have, to keep it hidden from him. It was that important to her.

The question was, how important was it to him? Was it important enough to let her go, too?

The answer was clear. He had wanted a life with her for so long, it was not really a hard decision to make. The opportunity to be with her was more important. If she couldn’t tell him, he would take a leap, trust her assertion that it did not have anything to do with them now. A show of faith that could hopefully be the block of trust they could both build on that would last forever.

If it didn’t work out for whatever reason, then at least they tried. Hopefully, they would not have regrets and if there were, at least it wouldn’t be remorse for not trying. The worst thing that could happen was they could ruin their friendship more than they already had, but at this point, he doubted that they could ever go back to how they were at Hogwarts, anyway.

Harry asked himself what it was that he was most afraid of about her past that would make him not want to be with her. That ‘unbearable’ he was so wary of. Other men? Murder? Addiction? Prostitution?

Maybe. All would fit what she said about what she couldn’t tell him. All quite abstract and unreal; what ifs magnified by the mystery she created around it by refusing to tell him. This was Hermione; deep in his heart he knew it would not be about the last three. Yes, it would definitely hurt him had she dated and slept with other men, but she wouldn’t have done anything wrong if she did.

However, there was one thing that he wanted to know for sure.

Harry took out his phone.

“Can we talk?” Harry said, listened briefly. “No, just us…I’ll meet you there.”

He disapparated into an alley adjacent to the Screeching Moon and went in. It was almost empty as he sat at the bar. He figured he had a few minutes.

“Hi Tom. What does a wizard have to do to get a drink around here?”

“Harry! This is a pleasant surprise, what can I get you?”

The first name basis was from hanging out with Hermione in the Screeching Moon days before he left.

“I hear you make a mean amnesiac special. Do you have one that can wipe, say, two years worth of memories?” he asked, kind of serious.

Tom bellowed a laugh, “Took that troublesome drink off my list two months ago; too many witches and wizards coming back to ask me what they did. I can’t even remember this morning and they expect an old man to keep track of everybody’s stupidity!”

Harry laughed with him and got a firewhiskey instead. Tom was drying shot glasses and preparing for the following day.

“Odd. For something that I haven’t sold in a while I’ve talked about it twice tonight,” Tom continued.

“She was here,” Harry wasn’t surprised at all that she would want to talk with Tom. Tom, she knew would never betray her.

“With her Muggle friend, nice chap.”

Was he the only person who didn’t like this guy?

“I hope you were able to give her what she needed.”

Harry remembered Tom took the drink off his list because of the pesky witches and wizards who wanted their memories back.

“Hers was easy. I remember it as vividly as if it happened just now. She took it once and it was the first one I sold. I stopped offering it to her after the 7th time she turned it down thinking if she refused to forget that, she would refuse it for everything else. And that one time she took it, it was for a memory that, in my opinion, wasn’t really potion worthy.”

That was great news. She would be relieved. He was relieved.

“The memory of Dean trying to kiss her?”

“Yes, Ron’s brother-in-law, I couldn’t believe the gall! I had to swear to her I wouldn’t tell Ron. And she didn’t really have to drink it. I figured she just wanted to be supportive.”

“Of Dean?”

“I guess, but more so of me,” Harry must have looked curious because Tom provided details, “The amnesiac special was a concoction that I created. It was the best tasting drink I had ever created, too. I was just having trouble selling the first one. Word got around that Hermione Granger took it, which she denied, of course because she did not remember, and I had no problem selling it after that. Considering how she had been, it was really nice of her to do that for me.”

Harry saw melancholy in the old man’s eyes as he spoke of it and had to ask, “What do you mean?”

“After she and Ron broke it off she busied herself with work, rarely came in, and when she did she would only sit there,” Tom pointed to their favoured booth two years ago. "Usually she had a drink, by herself, turning down company from everyone except Ron. It was sad to watch her, really.”

Tom carried on, “Then that one night about five months ago, she got up and joined me at the bar. We joked that maybe if she was the first to drink it, others would follow. She told me how the drink probably tasted good, but adding the amnesiac was a terrible idea. I kind of feigned that I was hurt and told her that perhaps to be able to judge it so harshly, she should at least try it. Finally, she said she would, but only if she could find an appropriate memory.”

“And she did,” Harry said. That explained a lot. Dean’s memory wasn’t that significant to her. But it was important to Dean and the amnesiac was special to Tom.

The chime at the entrance announced the door opening. It was Ritchie. He turned down Tom’s drink offer and sat next to Harry at the bar. Tom knew when he wasn’t needed.

“Thanks for meeting with me,” Harry said.

“Is this going to take long?” Ritchie answered impatiently.

He got to the point, “I love her. I want to be with her.”

Ritchie replied, “You sure have an unconventional way of showing it. I don’t think she’s convinced. I’m not convinced. If this is about her past that she won’t talk to you about, I can’t tell you. I gave her my word.”

“No, I’m not going to ask you about that, but I hope that if it happens to be about that, you answer it anyway,” Harry paused, trying to think of how to ask him the question without being insulting. “She told me you broke up. I want to be with her but only if she really wants to be with me. I figured you’d be straight with me. I need to know if she wants to be with you, because if she does, then she should be with you.”

Ritchie looked at him as if he was from another planet.

“What would make you think that?”

“I’ve seen her with you more times than you think, through Ron. She cares a lot about you. She was willing to live a Muggle life to fit in your world and she said you never asked for that. I can see that you care about her too. You make her happy, you make her laugh and she trusts you implicitly. You were there for her during the worst time of her life. It doesn’t make sense that she wouldn’t want to stay with you.”

“She broke up with me to be with you,” Ritchie still didn’t understand why he would have doubts. “How dense can you be?”

“It’s complicated,” Harry didn’t think it was necessary to expound.

“I’m sure it is,” Ritchie did not press him. “But to answer your question, no, she doesn’t want to be with me or anyone else. Her wanting to be with someone else was my story.”

That was a relief. He wasn’t sure if Ritchie would tell him but he had to try to see her tonight.

“Where do I find her?”

Ritchie wrote down an address on a napkin with instructions. Harry thanked him as he got up to leave and just as he was about to exit the front entrance, he doubled back. From his jacket pocket, he took a small glass container filled with silvery material and set it on the bar right in front of Harry.

It looked just like one of Ron’s phials.

Harry’s perplexed look got the clarification he required.

“Ron knew she wouldn’t tell you. He asked me to give this to you if you came back and still wanted to be with her. For what it’s worth, I agree with Ron. You should know what happened.”

Ritchie was about to walk away when he turned back, “By the way, all my life I’ve always been a sore loser and Jane knows it’s something I need to work on. This is for coming back.”

Before Harry could ask what it was, it was too late to block or avoid Ritchie’s freshly bandaged right fist and it connected with the centre of his face!

XXXXXXXXX

Just a few blocks away at a safe house, a Muggle radio was playing a song from the popular young American witch cross-over singer, Anne Roberts. It was her latest hit single, ‘Not Meant To Be’. Hermione often wondered why women gravitated to sad music when they felt sad, and now she finally figured it out. Misery loves company.

You left without a trace,

Wherever I look I see your face

Your brown eyes, your red hair

They haunt me everywhere.

But we were not meant to be…

Hermione was in bed trying to get some rest. Tom gave her the peace of mind that she needed. It made perfect sense to her why she did that, particularly that one night five months ago.

On their way to where she was, Ritchie told her about what he saw and didn’t see while staking out the Gomez charity. Kingsley had apparently sent an Auror over to continue surveillance. The rest of the donor list was indeed quite interesting. It was filled with names of prominent wizarding families and figures but she doubted if that bore any significance.

Hermione felt they were closing in on the Cardinal but there was still the task of capturing him and getting a confession so her name would be cleared. Finding and identifying the Cardinal was going to be a cakewalk compared to what they had to do after.

Still just not ready to fall asleep, she summoned the Hogwarts 1994 Yearbook and opened the cover. The Triwizard Tournament figured prominently within its pages. She smiled as she saw a picture of the Durmstrang delegation and a full page dedicated to their Champion. Her first kiss, actually kisses. She knew Viktor was still playing professional Quidditch. Fleur was now married to Bill. Cedric. And Harry. Ugh, Rita Skeeter and that vicious article! She couldn’t believe the Prophet still allowed her to write.

Each house had sections dedicated to its members. She quickly browsed the Gryffindor students knowing T.M. Didler would not be there; having been Prefect in the subsequent years and eventually Head Girl, she knew all of them.

Hermione checked the Slytherin first years. There was that rookie Auror, she forgot his name. She would ask Tonks to see if he could help. She recognized a few Ravenclaw freshmen who now worked for the Ministry, too. From Hufflepuff, there were a few as well, and yes, her. If Didler was a first year in 1994 she would be the best person to ask who it might be.

She was interrupted by a knock on the door. That would be Ritchie.

“I thought you were heading…”, Hermione froze as she opened the door and did not see Ritchie. “…home…Harry, what are you doing here? And what happened?”

His eyes were red and there was blood on the front of his shirt, and on close inspection some on his face. There was also something about his nose.

“Can I come in?”

Yes, it hurts to be in the same space with him but you can’t really say no. He has blood on him. And you need to at least fix his nose.

Hermione stepped aside and opened the door wider for him to get through.

“What happened to your face?” she asked again.

“It’s nothing. It was stupid, really. I wasn’t paying attention, ran into something and broke my nose. I fixed it myself.”

A likely story; she wished they could be adults about this. She took him to the bedroom, the only room in the place where there was sufficient lighting, and sat him down on one of the chairs. As she stood over him she suddenly felt underdressed in her nightgown.

Stop thinking about it. Don’t make this harder than it already is.

Summoning her wand to reset his nose more accurately, she did not have the heart to tell him how it looked like when she saw him at the door.

“I trust that this something that you ran into does not need medical attention at St. Mungo's?” she said as she continued to clean up his face and take the stains out his shirt.

“Oh, no. Definitely not,” Harry vehemently denied, then muttered, “At least not immediately.”

Harry sat for quite some time after she finished, just looking at her. And she couldn’t move either, just content to look back. She wasn’t sure why he came but if they were going to end it today, she wanted to look at him like this when it was still appropriate. She had serious doubts that they could do what she and Ron had done; she didn’t think they could be friends after this.

Harry spoke first.

“I know it’s kind of late,” he stood and moved closer, not letting go of her eyes, “I wanted to answer your questions, the ones from earlier tonight.”

“You already answered them,” she hoped he was not trying to attempt to make her feel better.

“No, not really. Please,” he took both her hands in his.

She nodded for him to go ahead.

“I was disappointed that you took the amnesiac with Dean and quite worried that you had done something that would make it unbearable for me to stay with you. This part of your life that you won’t talk about, it scares me the same way. I wasn’t sure if I could live with that without it coming up every time you chose not to tell me something.”

“The thing is, I can’t ignore this feeling I’ve had for you since that last year at Hogwarts. We blew our chance to be together two years ago and I’m not about to turn my back on this rare second opportunity. So the answer is yes, I can live with not knowing that part of your life, if only for this second chance. And, while I want to know what it is so I can be a part of it, it’s clearly very important to you to keep it a secret.”

He took something from his pocket and put it in her hand. It was a phial of memory.

Chapter 29 – The Memory

At the East London General Hospital Emergency Room, a badly beaten participant of an early morning bar fight occupied Trauma Room 6. The patient screamed like a girl when the doctor reduced his nasal bone fracture, swore like a sailor every time his broken rib cage moved and cried like a baby as the intern anaesthetized the part of his face just below his right eyebrow where he needed stitches.

As Ritchie momentarily removed an ice pack off his bruised left eye, he pondered whether or not he should have anticipated that while Harry, a being of outstanding moral fibre, would unlikely use magic to reciprocate childish behaviour, he was not beyond participating in a brawl. How was he supposed to know that in Harry’s two years of absence, he had taken up kickboxing in his spare time? And, judging from his skill, he must have had a lot of time to spare.

It was a nice, clean fight and while he had landed as much as he received and caused a fair amount of damage on Harry, Harry did win the fight fair and square. Ritchie looked worse only after Harry performed first aid magic on himself. He begrudgingly accepted Harry’s offer of a truce, declined Harry’s suggestion to fix him up after seeing the job he did on himself, but wisely accepted Harry’s offer to drop him off the nearest ER. They agreed that, for both their sakes, Jane should not know the truth about how they sustained their injuries.

Maybe having a packed nose and breathing through his mouth for four weeks will finally teach him not to be such a sore loser.

While awaiting final clearance from the medical staff, he closed his eyes and his thoughts wandered back to that morning Jane finally told him about Harry Potter.

“Please don’t cry, Jane,” he pleaded with her, not desiring to join her tearful display. “It’s obvious what that means and I understand. You have to do this, for yourself.”

They were in agreement that she had to find out if Harry felt the same way about her.

“I’m so sorry,” she repeated earnestly. “I didn’t think he was ever going to come back. And I was hoping he would just leave again.”

Ritchie did not share with her that he was wishing Harry would leave too and maybe, tell her he wasn’t interested, so she could finally be with him, body, mind and soul.

“I’ll be around if you need me, you know that,” he struggled to keep his composure, “I meant what I said. I have no regrets.”

They hugged and as he stroke her hair to reassure her that he was fine, he fought off a desperate desire to kiss her and make love to her, not wanting to have this moment’s memory tarnished with a rejection or have her do it out of pity.

“When are you telling him?” he asked her.

“I was thinking never. Or, at least, not in this lifetime,” she replied.

“He has to know.”

“He doesn’t. It’s in the past. It has nothing to do with us now.”

Ritchie wanted her to tell Harry, so he could be less involved and not be part of the reason he could not be with her. But it seemed that Ron was right; she had thought about it and had already decided. He had to talk her into it. He was sensible enough to realize that if it didn’t work out as she hoped, it was preferable that there would be no possibility of it haunting her in the future.

“Remember how you refused to talk about Harry thinking he was in the past? The past will come around; it always does. The conversation will be easier now when you don’t need to talk about it and harder when you have to.”

Jane told him why she couldn’t tell him, trying to get him to see it her way, “If it were about something else I would tell him in a heartbeat; just not this one. Am I asking for too much? Do you think it’s unreasonable to want what I want?”

He shook his head and replied, “I don’t think what you want is unreasonable, but then I know what it’s about and I know why you’re doing this. He doesn’t. You’re taking a big risk. He will think this is about something else. In fact, he already does. As much as I would love for it to be true, you really should stop letting him think you gave up magic for me.”

“But I need to know.”

“Who doesn’t?”

“If I tell him now, I won’t ever know, not for the rest of my life. I don’t want that.”

“Just find another way. Think about what you could lose if you don’t tell him. He’ll feel you don’t trust him or don’t love him enough, or both. This uncertainty will eat him up and he’ll ask himself if it’s all worth it to be with someone who doesn’t trust or love him enough.”

“If it gets to that then he doesn’t really want to be with me.”

“Or, if he really loves you and believes that, he might just let you go, like the last time.”

Jane shook her head.

“If you don’t tell him, just be prepared for him to think the same about you, that you don’t really want to be with him. He’ll ask, how can you love him and choose not to tell him about this, or any part of your life. Do you think he can believe that your keeping something from him is not a measure of how much you love him?”

She remained unconvinced, “Just promise me you won’t tell him.”

He did promise her knowing that if Harry deserved to know, he didn’t have to be the one to tell him.

Jane would not give details about what transpired after she and Harry left the bookstore, but whatever did happen broke her again and she would not talk about it, at least not to him. He thought that what he thought would happen did happen. Unfortunately, he still had to sort Harry out himself, see if he was truly unworthy of Ron’s memory as the night with Jane implied. He was about to call him when Harry did the same thing.

They met, they talked and he had to give Harry the phial.

He gave Harry the phial. He gave Harry the phial?! He was such an idiot! How could he give Harry the one thing that would make him want to stay with her forever! He looked at the broken man crying and staring back at him from the reflection on one of the glass storage cabinets.

At two o’clock in the morning, the peace and quiet surrounding the East London General Hospital was disrupted by loud screams and wailing from inside Trauma Room 6, where an about-to-be-discharged patient was apparently having a very bad anaesthetic reaction.

XXXXXXXXXX

At the safe house, Hermione was on the verge of tears as she lifted the phial closer to read what was written on it. It was a date, five months ago. She had a good idea what the swirling silvery material was a memory of.

“Ron’s,” she couldn’t really blame him for doing this without her knowledge but it was her memory to share, not his.

Harry nodded, “I’m guessing it’s about what we can’t talk about.”

“You haven’t seen it,” it wasn’t a question. Hermione had no doubt in her mind that he had not, not only from what he just said, but also from how he was acting. She was overwhelmed by his gesture she couldn’t hold back anymore. Tears started to trickle down both her cheeks.

“I stared at it for quite some time before coming over. I admit, it was very tempting, is very tempting. Why do you think I’m giving it to you?” he gave her a weak grin.

Hermione could only think of what it meant to him, what he was giving up in exchange for their second chance. She was laughing and crying openly at the same time. Harry was trying to wipe her tears away and failing at the task. Recognizing that they were ones of joy, he didn’t tell her to stop.

“I love you. I want to be with you. I hope you’re finally convinced of that,” Harry said as the tears started to subside.

“Completely,” she replied, and recognizing a definite qualified moment, did not let another one pass, “I love you, too, Harry.”

Harry was beaming, his eyes sparkling from what she could only describe as pure bliss. She felt the same way.

“I heard you the first time.”

Time stopped at the exact moment their lips found each other. She returned his kiss, full of love, hope and promise, his soft mouth wiping away any uncertainly of how much he loved her. Their bodies embraced and moulded, his encasing hers with a warmth and protection she had never known from anyone else. A million butterflies fluttered within her! She loved this man she was kissing, and she knew he loved her back. Finally, she had no doubts whatsoever about how Harry felt about her.

After what seemed like an eternity, their kiss ended. Her face and his now damp from her tears, he continued to hold her close to him as they basked in the rays of euphoria that exuded from within them. She could not think of a better place to be at that moment.

“You heard me?”

She didn’t think it was possible considering how eye contact was an essential in Legiventroliqy.

“You really shouldn’t say something like that and not expect me to save your life,” he was teasing.

“I’ll keep that in mind. But that was the least you could do after screwing up my Patronus,” she teased back.

She caught a glimpse of the phial she still clasped tightly in her right hand. It obviously just came into his possession, likely from the same person his face ran into. She realized it was Harry who had rang Ritchie as he was leaving, the person he was meeting at the Screeching Moon. She was curious what that was about.

Harry must have seen her looking at it.

“Ritchie was keeping it for Ron. For the most part, you’re right about him being a decent guy,” he said, confirming her suspicions.

“Plotting with Ron to give you this hardly qualifies as decent behaviour,” she didn’t really know how else to answer, not wanting to add to Harry’s insecurity about Ritchie.

Her ex-boyfriends’ conspiracy was totally unexpected though both had expressed their disagreement with her desire to keep Harry uninformed. Ron asked her once, hypothetically, whether or not she would let Harry know if he ever came back. Ron backed off after she answered him with an immediate and definite ‘no’.

The conversation with Ritchie wasn’t so easy because it no longer was hypothetical. Ritchie probably had the phial for a few days at least. No wonder he was not surprised when she told him; he was expecting it to happen and likely knew it was going to happen even before she decided.

It had to be difficult for him to do what he did. She never meant for him to get hurt and her expression betrayed her regret.

“Are you sure about giving him up for me?” Harry asked, seriously.

All night that was what she was hearing from him; an underlying doubt of her intent to be with him. As much as Harry loved her, he was uncertain about how much she loved him.

Hermione was well aware of the possible repercussions of his acceptance of her request. In essence she had asked him to take a leap of faith, or more graphically, to jump off an airplane without a parachute or a wand, and know in his heart she would not let him down. He could have conceivably thought that her request was unreasonable, and that the act itself showed how little she cared about him. After all, if she truly loved him, shouldn’t she tell him everything?

And yet despite that uncertainty, Harry wanted to be with her.

“Isn’t the fact that Ritchie and I broke up enough to tell you I want to be with you and not him?”

Harry told her what he told Ritchie.

“I’ve seen you with him through Ron’s memories. I just don’t get it why you would give up all that you have with him for me when as you said, we’ve only had that one night.”

“Why do you think I’m doing this?” she asked him.

“I’m not sure, but I do hope you’re doing it for us or at least yourself. You’ve taken up more lost causes than anyone I know; Buckbeak, the House-elves, me after Ginny, staying with Ron longer than you should have. Ever since I’ve known you, you’ve always been there for me, looking after my best interests. I can’t help but wonder if you’re doing this just to make me happy and to save what remains of the close friendship we once had.”

Hermione listened and observed Harry as he talked. Experience taught her that actions spoke louder than words, and also had the potential to speak louder untruths. Two years ago, she heard him say that he loved her and hoped that it was true, but she finally discarded the notion after months of waiting for an owl and for him to come back. She could tell him again and again that she loved him, even tell him that she never loved Ritchie, but the words would always be overpowered by his perception of her actions. And they were old enough to realize that their physical attraction for one another could exist even without love, so, just because they found each other desirable didn’t prove anything. How else could he know, indisputably, that she loved him more than she loved Ritchie?

What Harry did not know was that he just gave her the one thing that could erase his worries about how she felt about him.

It would be cruel and unfair not to assuage his doubts about why she chose to be with him. After all, though she did not demand for proof that he truly loved her, he had given her that by not only agreeing to her request to not talk about what happened, but more so by giving her Ron’s memory without looking at it.

She now recognized the folly of believing that he didn’t have to know. If she didn’t tell him they would not have a chance.

He’s done his part. It’s your turn. He has to know, to make it work.

What about after, if it still doesn’t work out?

Then you have to be prepared to be the one to let go.

They needed a pensieve, but pensieves were made from materials with magical properties it was a theoretical improbability to conjure one. Harry’s was likely in his study; she would rather not show him there considering she still could not disapparate on her own. She could not assume everything would go well after he found out and there was a small chance Harry would be very upset that she had even considered not telling him.

Hermione pulled up another chair, sat and asked Harry to sit across from her.

“What are we doing?”

“I’m showing you Ron’s memory.”

Astonished at first, he asked, “Why?”

She clearly explained why, “I love you; I don’t love Ritchie. That’s why I want to be with you, not him. I don’t want you to ever doubt that,” then seeing his puzzled expression, added, “It will make more sense once you’ve seen it.”

"Are you sure about this?”

She nodded as she uncorked the phial.

“We don’t have a pensieve.”

“Sure we do,” she pulled the silvery material from within the phial using her wand and deposited it into her mind. “You can use me.”

Putting someone else’s memory into another person was not advisable. She thought better her than Harry, because she shared the memory with Ron and because she would be able to segregate it from hers as she had before, during training. And besides, she wanted to see exactly what Harry was going to.

As the memory played out in her consciousness, the images she saw confirmed her suspicion of what it was about.

“You remember the incantation and the wand motion, right?”

“You want me to read your mind,” he wanted to clarify what he was going to do.

“I guess you have to. I don't think I have the energy to push the entire memory to yours.”

“You know I’ve tried but have never been able to do this,” he reminded her.

“You’ve never had a good reason to,” she sensed his lack of confidence but always believed he could do anything he set his mind to, “Just try.”

“Or, you can just tell me yourself what this is about.”

“Honestly, I wouldn’t know how to begin. And besides, it’s better if you see it from Ron’s point of view. His would be more objective,” and hopefully less pathetic. Then she said to him again, concentrating on the memory, “Just try. I’m ready when you are.”

With that, Harry stared into her eyes, lifted his wand and, with confidence and clarity uttered, “Legilimiens!”

Hermione felt a rush of alertness and knew he was in. She was anxious, to say the least. In her heart she knew it was the right thing to do but still, there was overwhelming apprehension that if this act of sharing the memory with Harry were a mistake, there would be no undoing it. There would be no turning back. What consoled her was the knowledge that his intention to be with her, at least right now, wasn’t because of it. She was content with that.

Seated across from her, Harry experienced the same sensation, not quite as he expected it would feel. Her mind was such a warmer and personal space; it was more comfortable that being in a pensieve. The images were more vivid though he was not part of the memory but a mere observant, like watching the scene unfold but through Ron’s eyes.

Hermione’s gesture was a definite surprise. He had indeed hoped that she would eventually change her mind but was stunned it would happen this soon. He was glad, because he was eager, very eager to find out what it was about.

Harry saw an image of her apartment office, and he, actually Ron, was perusing a Daily Prophet article. The blinds were somewhat drawn in to block off the intense light from the sun and the clock on the wall showed one o’clock. Reading the Headline, it said:

VOLDEMORT’S WAND MISSING!

“Unspeakables are idiots!” Ron exclaimed just as Hermione came in, popped a pill in her mouth and chased it with a sip of coffee from the cup in her hand.

“What did we do wrong this time?” she asked as she sat beside Ron.

Harry looked at her more closely and noticed deep indentations under her tired and lacklustre eyes. He searched for a word to best describe her and all he could come up with was ‘defeated’. She sounded exhausted, too.

“You lost Voldemort’s wand,” Ron said dryly, pointing out the Prophet headline.

She squinted, read the article with Ron and Harry, who noticed Lowes’ name mentioned a few times.

Hermione said blandly, “You’re right, we’re idiots.”

“You realize you’re pulling me away from this investigation,” Harry imagined he was faking a pout, trying to make her feel guilty.

“Be thankful. I’m really saving you from taking part in a colossal waste of Ministry resources,” she replied in the same monotone voice. “Who cares if some lowlife wants a souvenir? A wand is a wand. It’s only as good, or in the case, as bad as it’s owner. There’s nothing more evil about that wand compared to yours.”

Ron put away the paper and confronted her, “Okay, if you can call your colleagues idiots and say something like that with a straight face then something’s definitely wrong. Do you want to talk about it?”

“I’m fine. I’m just in a persistent down and caustic mood. I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”

“Any moron can see that,” Ron answered.

“And today, a splitting headache. Why don’t we skip today so you can join the merry hunt for the wand? I won’t be good company.”

“Now you have my full attention. Haven’t you learned by now that telling me to go away makes me want to stay even more?” Ron’s joke didn’t even break a grin on her face. “If you don’t tell me, you know I’ll stick around and annoy you all day.”

“Ron, please, I am not going to waste time arguing with you.”

“Then don’t,” Ron moved closer to Hermione, “Ginny is quite worried, and frankly, so am I. Are you avoiding her? She’s starting to think she did something wrong.”

“Tell her she hasn’t.”

He saw her shut her eyes momentarily as if willing Ron to disappear, or at least stop talking. As when he asked her last night, she didn’t deny the fact that she was avoiding Ginny.

“Why can’t you sleep?”

“There’s a pea under my mattress,” she said in jest, rubbing her temples with her fingers.

Ron was apparently used to this evasive conversational style that she had taken a liking to after he left.

“Is this about him, again? Because I thought we were done with that months ago.”

Should he assume by ‘him’, Ron meant him?

“No, it isn’t,” she answered rather quickly then added, “Actually, yes it is…well, not really, but related…”

Ron heaved a sigh of impatience and interrupted, “Blimey, no wonder you’re losing sleep. You can’t even decide if it’s about Harry or not.”

Harry was grateful to Ron for clearing that up.

Ron paused and when she didn’t say anything, continued, “We can play this Muggle game where you tell me how many words there are, draw clues and let me guess what this is about. Or we can do it our usual way; let me take wild guesses and you can tell me yea or nay.”

She looked at him seriously and finally relented, telling him, “I’m leaving the Ministry.”

That obviously surprised Ron it left him dumbfounded for a few seconds. So, she had decided to do this months ago, even before Ritchie was in the picture.

“No, you’re not. You’ve always wanted to work for the Ministry. The Ministry is your life.”

In Harry’s opinion, Ron’s assessment was accurate. That was her dream job and she never even talked to them about the possibility of doing anything else.

“It’s not my life, at least not anymore,” she replied with melancholy in her eyes.

Ron’s eyes widened, “You’ve been convinced to go into Industry for more galleons!”

Harry at least knew it was highly improbable that Hermione would work for Industry because it stood for a lot of things she disliked, especially not for more gold.

She shook her head, “No, Ron. Really, I’m not going into Industry,”

“If not the Industry, then where?”

“I really don’t know yet. I was thinking of taking a trip, maybe to Africa, where no one knows me. Stay there, never come back.”

There’s a shocker. She said it in a flippant manner Harry couldn’t tell whether she was serious or not. While their defeat of Voldemort did make her and Ron famous, too, she never gave him the impression that it bothered her. Was that what she wanted? Anonymity?

“You’re off your rocker!”

Hermione was somewhat enjoying the torment Ron was going through, “And why is that news to you?”

“Sleep deprivation is driving you more insane! Tell me you’ve at least seen a Healer.”

“I saw three in the last two weeks. They couldn’t find anything that they could cure. I even saw my Muggle doctor and she said aside from a mild case of depression, which apparently is more common than we think, I’m as fit as a fiddle.”

“But why are you leaving?”

“My job, I can’t do it anymore.”

Harry wondered what about her work she couldn’t do anymore. Thinking back two years ago, she had a few legitimate concerns; foremost was how senior Unspeakables generally were left on their own with minimal accountability. There was also the politics. She never could stand the politics.

“You’re burnt out. Eighty-hour workweeks have finally caught up with you. I told you this past year you’ve been working too hard. You just need some time off.”

“I have been off for a couple of weeks, remember, I just got back this week, and with Lumos being mostly research and theory, I haven’t been doing much for the past six months.”

“Give it time,” Ron suggested. “It might get better.”

“No it won’t,” then she emphasized a point, “I’m not asking for advice Ron. I’m telling you, I’m doing this.”

Harry realized, as Ron just had, she had decided and there was no changing her mind.

“First Harry, then you. I can’t believe this is happening, “ Ron grew silent, “So, this is what’s keeping you awake at night? What does it have to do with Harry, aside from the fact that you’re about to do the same dreadful thing he did?”

Hermione hesitated, seemingly trying to choose how to tell Ron, “I was hoping I would never have to have this particular conversation with you, at least not until we’re grey, forgetful and hopefully more forgiving, but seeing that you’re my best friend and I need you to understand why I have to leave, I have no choice. I know this will hurt you and you have every right to get upset. I just want you to know I’m really sorry…it’s about Harry and me.”

Harry felt Ron’s jaw tighten, his demeanor unusually serious.

“Do you remember that night we officially broke up?”

“Of course I remember. You told me you’ve had the hots for Harry since Hogwarts and you wanted me to let go to see if he felt the same. It was one of the worst nights of my life.”

Harry remembered too, the night he spied on them and thought she was going to marry Ron. He guessed Hermione was about to tell Ron about their night together. His pulse quickened and the rest of him reacted as if he was there that day telling Ron himself.

“I kind of left out a few details.”

“Go on…”

Hermione took a deep breath and spoke deliberately, “On the night you graduated from Auror Academy, we had a fight and I had a bit more firewhiskey than I was accustomed to. On Ginny’s insistence Harry took me home and I invited him up to my apartment.”

She took Ron’s hand and held it. “He spent the night…in my bedroom…on my bed… with me…both of us…naked…”

Hermione choked on the last few words. She couldn’t hold back her tears, as she was likely witnessing Ron cry. Harry could imagine how much it hurt Ron to hear that and how much it hurt Hermione knowing that she broke Ron’s heart all over again. Ron attempted to pull away but Hermione held on to his hands tight until he stopped.

Ron didn’t look at her and his gaze settled on the two pairs of hands in front of him, “Bloody traitor! He was my best friend, he was like a brother to me, how could he cross the line!”

He was right. Harry may have loved Hermione but that was not an excuse.

“It wasn’t his fault, Ron. He wouldn’t have had I not made the first move. He tried to stop us but I convinced him. You should blame me...” she was interrupted, her attempts to point out mitigating circumstances falling on deaf ears.

“Stop defending him! You, I can understand, but he didn’t know about us. I know, because he wouldn’t have left had he known!”

Harry knew what Ron meant. He was less of a traitor had he known, though to Harry, a traitor nonetheless.

“I don’t know about that, but he left because of what we did,” she tried to reason with him, “It happened a long time ago; he’s gone; you and I, we’re not together. It doesn’t matter anymore. There is no point to stay angry. It will just eat you up inside for no good reason.”

Ron calmed down, resigned and accepting of what Hermione just said. After some time, he spoke, “I can’t promise I won’t hurt him when I see him. I should have seen this coming. Was he, at least, any good?”

He had a smirk, or at least it felt that way and he said the last sentence with a hint of annoyance. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Of course, Ron didn’t really want an answer, “Well I hope it sucked. I hate the guy. I love him, but I hate him. Considering I spent years trying to get you to sleep with me, he does it just like that!”

That was Ron, making jokes when he found himself in uncomfortable situations. No, Ron, it didn’t suck. It was amazing.

At least Harry could see Hermione smiling now. They fell silent for a moment, then Ron said to her, wanting confirmation, “I guess that explains why it took you so long to get over the fact that he left. You loved him. I mean more than as a friend. You were really in love with him.”

She frowned and couldn’t look at Ron, almost embarrassed.

“You still are?”

“Pathetic, isn’t it? I realized that night that I wanted to be with him that way for the rest of my life. But I didn’t know how he felt about me. That morning, I couldn’t wake him to ask. It was a no-win situation. If he said that night was a mistake that would have been death to our friendship. And if he said he wanted to be with me, I would have wondered whether he was just saying that to not hurt my feelings. And there was also how he would feel about betraying you. So I concocted an amnesiac, pretended to drink it and left a glassful for him to take, so he wouldn’t have to live with the guilt, hoping to buy time, and give us another chance after I sorted things out with you.”

Harry heard this for the first time. They never really talked about that night. At the time he left, Hermione’s potion offer to him signified a mistake she wanted to correct and proved that she cared more about Ron than him. Then, after realizing that she never took the potion, he thought it was all about wiping out guilt, to save friendships.

But for Hermione it wasn’t entirely about that. She wanted to know how he really felt about her. The potion was all for him, so he wouldn’t feel what he felt and do what he did before she could talk to Ron. Hearing this, he understood where Hermione was coming from. He understood but still would have handled it differently, he would have hoped on the slight chance Ron would accept and be happy for them. They would have probably lost Ron, be awkward with the Weasleys, but he would have never willingly parted with that memory.

“So, like you he only pretended to take the potion,” Ron concluded, “And he left before you could talk to me.”

“I thought, he’d owl or at least get in touch with someone for sure. Then he’d know that you and I had broken up and that it would not be too much of a stretch for him to think we could be together. And I didn't want you seeking him out, so that if he came back it would be because he wanted to. Until recently, I was still waiting for him to come back. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and now it’s been more than a year; we still haven’t heard from him.”

That was just me being a stupid git.

“He’s never coming back. And I can only think it’s because he chooses not to, that he doesn’t want anything to do with his old life anymore. That he had left not only because of guilt that he had betrayed you, but also because he couldn’t face me, to tell me that our night was a mistake.”

Hearing this, Ron took out from his wallet a piece of old parchment and gave it to her. As she started reading, Harry recognized that it was the note he left Ron two years ago.

“I know it doesn’t explain why he’s not here, but at least it tells you why he left. It doesn’t sound like he thought that night was a mistake.”

Not before long, Hermione was crying again, not with sadness but with frustration.

“Why does he do that? Why does he have to do the honourable thing all the time?”

“He does it because that’s who he is. Some actually find that quite endearing about him.”

“If only he took the potion.”

“He never would have taken it. He loved you.”

She gave him back the note, “That night, he told me he loved me, too. Maybe it did then but the words mean nothing now. Even if it were true, it doesn’t change the fact that he’s still not here nineteen months later. A lot can happen in nineteen months. He could be dead, he could be married, he could have kids, he could be with someone else.”

“True.”

Thanks for the confidence, Ron.

“So, I decided a month ago that I’m done waiting. I’m done. I’m done. I am so done.”

Hermione repeated it so many times not for Ron who got the message, but seemingly more for herself. Harry never envisioned she would be in such a conundrum and she really could have waited forever for no one.

“Well, it’s about time. Good for you,” Ron was being supportive, “And what about this is giving you sleepless nights?”

She replied, “When it finally dawned on me that he wasn’t coming back, I just wanted to be able to move on. But at that point he was still everywhere in my life. I’ve been seeing him in my work, at the apartment, at the Screeching Moon, at Diagon Alley, places where we’ve been, things that we had done, even in my sleep.”

“I didn’t mind them before because they helped me wait for him but now that I was done waiting, I wanted the memories to leave me alone. It was proving to be quite a challenge. Then, I started having difficulties. And it’s why I can’t work for the Ministry. I can’t do it anymore.”

“What difficulties?” she didn’t answer and just looked at him with a pained expression.

“What exactly can’t you do anymore?”

Ron still was not clear though Harry had a strong suspicion of what she meant. He could hear his heart pounding in anticipation. How could she think of not letting him know?

Hermione stood up and shocked both Ron and Harry as she smashed her half filled cup hard on the edge of her desk, breaking it into tiny pieces, coffee leaking out onto the floor next to shards of ceramic.

She took out her wand and pointed it at the broken cup in her hand.

“Reparo!”

Harry had seen her do this countless times, it took a second or so to realize that something was amiss. The broken cup pieces remained where they fell! Nothing happened!

She let the cup go and then aimed for the spillage, her eyes filled with frustration and brimming with tears…

“Evanesco!”

Same result. She directed her wand at Ron who, on instinct, jumped back.

“Petrificus Totalus!”

Ron was immobile and seeing him through Hermione’s eyes Harry saw he had a plastered surprised and horrified look on his face, despite the fact that the jinx didn’t work.

Hermione was weeping without inhibition at this point. She rattled off several other non-complex spells throughout her office until finally Ron had come to his senses, took her wand and held her in his arms as she sobbed.

She had lost her ability to do magic!

Harry felt faint as the entire room spun around him like a merry-go-round out of control!

At that point, the image of Hermione with Ron faded. Harry’s mind rejoined his present self, seated across from her and staring in disbelief at a composed but somewhat concerned current Hermione. He barely noticed that he had tears in his eyes. Why couldn’t she tell him about this?

“I never gave up magic, Harry,” Hermione said to him. “Magic gave up on me.”

Disclaimer : Harry Potter is not mine, never will be! Thanks to JK Rowling for such wonderful and interesting characters.

A/N. This Chapter includes a Harry-Hermione moment that isn’t in the versions found on other sites. This is Portkey after all, the haven for Harmony shippers.

XXXXXXXXX

Chapter 30 – Unmasking the Cardinal

As the spinning motion of his surroundings finally came to a halt, Harry understood what Hermione meant. Ron’s memory, certainly, made a lot of things make more sense.

The Ministry was right about her wand; she had not used it for months. Unable to perform any spells, Hermione had to leave the career she had worked so hard for and sought Ron’s help because she could not finish Lumos without it.

Thinking back, he never saw Hermione use magic in any of Ron’s memories. It was Ron who put the spell on Ritchie to protect him from Obliviation and it was Ron who revived Ritchie when he got Stunned. Ron always assumed that he would be doing everything magic-related, which now seemed odd considering she was always better at it than he was.

He no longer wondered why Ron acted the way he did. Ron was neither supportive nor enthusiastic when Hermione decided to resurrect Lumos after the Cardinal sent her those notes, knowing it would just add to her frustration of not being able to do any magic. It brought new meaning to Ron’s and Ritchie’s disapproval on their way to the warehouse after Hermione went off to challenge the Cardinal on her own, unwilling to wait; the gravity of the matter multiplied many times over because she would not have been able to defend herself at all. The night Dorner was murdered Ron even went to the extent of Petrifying her, believing she would insist on going to her apartment no matter what he said.

And for Harry, it finally killed the ugly green monster within him, recognizing that Hermione did not actually give up magic for Ritchie or for anyone else. At that time, she was no longer a witch. She had no choice but to live a Muggle life.

However, the memory contained a strong implication, a suggestion, which was causing significant distress and turmoil within him. It did not escape Harry how Hermione chose to tell Ron about her loss. Had it not been absolutely necessary, she would not have told Ron about their night together, or even mentioned him.

Hermione loved him, he left, and she had to let go. In the process, she lost her ability to do magic. She lost it because she chose not to wait for him any more, believing he did not care about her.

She lost the one thing that she loved doing the most and went through hell because of his lapse in common sense.

The conclusion he had arrived at about what she implied was not that hard to make and it made him even more irate at himself and more remorseful about leaving two years ago than he thought possible. Her implication was absolutely not accusatory and even though the memory ran out before he could confirm it, he believed her allusion to be true, more so because he was certain of the exact moment she got her magical ability back. He felt a bit foolish now, asking her to tell him in no uncertain words how she felt about him. Words, indeed, wouldn’t be nearly enough to describe this.

Harry looked over to her and saw her concerned expression. This happened to her and she was worried about him? How could she not tell him about this? And why couldn’t she?

Fighting off intense raw feelings trying to break through, he said to her, calmly, “That day, in that secure room at St. Mungo’s, when you used my wand so we could talk in private, that was first time you had used magic in a long while.”

He paused, holding her worried brown eyes hostage, needing her to confirm. They were seated close, faces not even two feet apart. It was impossible for them to hide any emotion from one another.

“Yes,” her voice was barely audible.

She was visibly making an effort not to cry.

“How long? Five? Six months?”

“A hundred and eighty-six days,” she admitted with reluctance. She likely noticed him wince as he tried to play out in his mind what each of her days would have been like. Seemingly knowing what he was thinking, she quickly added, “It may just be coincidence. If you really think about it, my losing and regaining it may have nothing to do with you at all.”

“Both times?” he was skeptical.

“They could be,” she said, not very convincingly.

It was obvious to Harry what she was doing. It was an effort to make him rethink the conclusion he had already arrived at.

“Do you think they were?” he asked her pointedly, knowing that she wouldn’t lie to him.

“Even if they weren’t, you shouldn’t feel bad. It’s not your fault. And I have it back, it doesn’t mat…” she was interrupted.

“Hermione, you’re doing it again. I just want to know what you think.”

He heard her answer, “No, I don’t think they were coincidences, but, I could be wrong.”

While Hermione admitted she was not a hundred per cent sure, knowing her, she would have read and researched this thoroughly to back up what she thought, and would have done everything to be as close to being certain as she could get. At one point in the past she would have even listed down salient points for him. By saying less, Hermione was trying to prevent him from feeling worse. But how could he not?

It was bad enough that it happened but he was in more agony as her belief of what caused the loss of her magical ability fortified his own. In his mind, theirs were the only two opinions that really mattered.

Harry remembered what she said to him at her apartment the other night; she said she had just moved on and she couldn’t go through it again, describing this as a most cruel fate she wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy. This was what she went through the past six months; letting him go, accepting and living with the fact that she couldn’t do magic anymore, and trying to figure out what to do with the rest of her life.

He could only imagine what that was like for her and he wanted to hear it in her own words, if she could tell him.

“What happened?” his voice was still, quiet, controlled, “Tell me everything.”

She didn’t want to answer, “It really doesn’t matter, Harry. It’s enough that you know I didn’t give up magic for Ritchie. It’s enough that you know how much I love you.”

“Stop saying it doesn’t matter because it matters to me. You matter to me.”

He loved her and he wanted to know everything about her living nightmare.

“Harry…”, she begged.

“Please,” he pleaded back.

Finally, Hermione relented, having some difficulty keeping her composure, “After I decided to let you go, everyday was a constant battle keeping thoughts of you away. It seemed that they just wouldn’t leave me alone. Memories of you were entwined in everything I did and do. I realized I couldn’t imagine a past without you. And because you had left, I couldn’t imagine a future with you. I just remember being so sad it had come to that. The memories stayed and the magic left instead.”

“It first happened at the Ministry around the time I was wrapping up Lumos, sealing the report. The confidentiality spell worked on the first five pages and on the sixth one, it just didn’t. I thought I was just tired and imagining things but within the same hour, I couldn’t charm or transfigure anything, couldn’t Apparate to my apartment, couldn’t unlock my front door. It didn’t take long. My wand was completely useless the day after.”

She let out an amused laugh, “And just to add insult to injury, after I lost it all, I had so much time on my hands, I thought about you even more.”

“At first I had myself convinced that this was a mere fluke, but I couldn’t lie forever. I read articles and researches about loss of magic and talked to Tom, because he knew first hand what it was like. I saw specialists in Toronto, Sydney and Tokyo, who poked, prodded and tested, seemingly forever. It was not fun having to bare my soul to a bunch of strangers. All the ones known to have experienced this had a significant emotional upheaval of some sort. Aside from what I was trying to do about you, I couldn’t come up with any other noteworthy personal disturbance in my life to explain it.”

“There was no known spell or potion to cure it and the experts weren’t optimistic about a recovery. At any rate, I wasn’t waiting for anything anymore.”

“You had to leave the Ministry and you needed Ron’s help,” Harry said.

For the most part he was content to just listen and let her tell her story, letting her fill in whatever blanks he had in the version he pieced together since his arrival.

She nodded, “To finish Lumos and my other minor projects. But with each passing day everyone and everything reminded me of what I couldn’t do anymore, and not being able to do magic reminded me of you and of what we lost because of what I did.”

“I was furious and had only myself to blame for the predicament I was in. With blame came the guilt. Then all I could be was sorry. Sorry that I offered you the potion, sorry that you left, sorry that I had let go, sorry that I lost what I lost and finally sorry for myself. I couldn’t look past that to even think about what to do with the rest of my life. All I knew was that I had to get away from here as quickly and far away as I could.”

Ginny had been right; she felt it was her fault.

“At that point, it was suffocating being around magic and I had a depression that was spiraling out of control. It felt like I was dying inside. Ron tried to help but he too reminded me of you and what I was sad about. He wanted me to stay at the Ministry, certain that Scrimgeour could use a Muggle on his staff. He just didn’t understand why I couldn’t stay.”

“Two months ago, Ron and I finally finished my projects. I was about to leave and go where there would be no reminders of us, hoping that would help me move on. Then I got those notes from the Cardinal.”

“You had to stay.”

Hermione buried her face in her hands and through muffled crying Harry heard her say, “All those people, dead because of me. I couldn’t leave because of the murders. But I couldn’t do anything either. I was just so incompetent, so powerless to stop the homicidal monster I helped create…”

Harry sat beside her and she leaned against him as he put his arm around her shoulders, stroking her hair. He could imagine how her frustration of not being able to perform magic grew worse. Hermione’s appearance in Ron’s memory two months ago on that day she showed him the Cardinal’s notes was telling of when she was likely at her lowest low. She was gaunt, having lost a lot of weight and looked even more sleep deprived than she was in the memory he just saw. Her last contribution to magic was being used to murder. That would certainly give her sleepless nights and if she did not get involved to resolve it, it would do that eternally.

She moved back and turned towards him slightly as she stopped sobbing so she could look at him as she continued.

“It was Ritchie who persuaded me to stop feeling sorry for myself long enough to realize that I could conceivably live the rest of my life without magic. It helped that he’s a Muggle and he got through me by loving me unconditionally, despite knowing I didn’t feel the same way about him. He found me the job at the bookstore, helped me pick out the course at the University and more importantly, convinced Ron not to fight the process. I would have stayed with him had you not come back because if I was ever capable of falling in love with anyone else it was going to be with him.”

Harry began to understand what Ritchie did for her. Ron, the one person she trusted with this secret at that time, would have been ill equipped to help her considering he lived with magic all his life. Worse, Ron, reminded her of him and of what she could not do. Ritchie came into her life in her darkest hour and did what Ron couldn’t; help her survive and fight the awful events that Harry’s leaving and staying away caused to happen.

“That day at St. Mungo’s when you came back, there was no denying I still loved you. But I wanted you to leave, not only because I couldn’t risk the possibility of you being hurt like Ron did, but more so because I didn’t think I could live through that again.”

Hermione fell silent after that but her last words hung in the air and stung him. It was too late. She had experienced it and he could not change the past. He was livid at himself for playing a part in all this. Granting that there was no point in finding fault and gauging who bore the graver of errors, he could not help but think how something simple, like a note from him, could have avoided everything. Just one of those crumpled unsent letters in the bottom drawer of his desk in New York could have made a huge difference. Just one.

Harry took her hands in his and looked at her with more tears in his eyes, so many thoughts swimming in his mind and he did not know where to begin. A voice from within him was asking, how could she look at him and not be revolted? Surely, he reminded her of what she went through.

Hermione had been watching Harry since he came out of Ron’s memory and he was responding to the memory just as she expected he would. Guilt, remorse, anger, pity. And that last one, what was that? That one she did not anticipate.

And now, he was looking at her with that expression. No, she would not allow him to wallow as she did.

“Harry, don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m the most unfortunate person to ever walk on earth. You have the same woeful look Ron had each time he spoke to me until I threatened to stop seeing him altogether if he couldn’t wipe it off his face,” Hermione replied, as firm and as clear as she could possibly be. “If I wanted people to feel sad for me I would have told everyone I knew about it.”

“I can’t help feeling the way I feel. Was that why you were avoiding Ginny?” Harry asked her.

“At that time, I couldn’t afford to let anyone else make me feel more sorry for myself than I already was,” she explained.

It would have pushed her over the edge.

“Ginny could have helped.”

She expected Ginny would share that opinion. Hermione had thought it through when she made the decision and she disagreed.

“I couldn’t imagine how, seeing that Ron tried and couldn’t,” she answered, thinking Ginny would have rallied others to get involved and she really couldn’t handle the circus. “The fussing from Ginny would have just made it more unbearable.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Somehow, she had to make him stop.

“It wasn’t you fault, Harry.”

“That’s debatable. I should have stayed. I should have come back sooner.”

“But you didn’t. I should have told you about Ron and about how I felt. But I didn’t,” she stressed her regrets about what happened two years ago. Then she told him what she finally concluded to be able to move on. “It’s done. There’s nothing we can do about that. There’s no point dwelling on something we can’t change.”

“You lost everything because of it!”

“Not everything; just my ability to do magic and the job I needed it for. It’s in the past. I have it back,” Hermione tried to put things in perspective, “I know what you’re going through. I went through the exact same emotions myself when I finally accepted why I lost it. But you shouldn’t feel that way.”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because you have nothing to gain. Tell me how the guilt or pity you’re feeling right now is a good thing? I needed to go through them to move on. They are absolutely of no use to you except make you feel miserable.”

“I am responsible so I should at least feel miserable.”

Hermione tried to reason with him, “You couldn’t possibly have envisioned this. You left because you thought it was the right thing to do. It was never your intention so stop blaming yourself for what happened to me.”

Harry didn’t answer, maybe the idea of him not being at fault was starting to take root.

He asked her instead, “Was this why you didn’t want to tell me? So I wouldn’t feel guilt or be sorry for what horrors you went through?”

“Ron never did understand and by giving you the phial, Ritchie proved he didn’t really get it either,” she said and wondered what she would have done had Harry come tonight having already seen the memory.

He insisted, “Try me. I may not agree but I just want to hear why keeping this a secret was more important to you than us being together.”

Hermione explained, “I’ve known you for most of my life. When bad things happen to people around you and people you care about, you almost always feel responsible and immediately conclude that it’s your fault.”

“What do you mean?”

“I witnessed what you went through with Cedric, Sirius, and Professor Dumbledore. If I, your best friend, told you I utterly and hopelessly loved you, lost my magical ability when I lost you, you, being you, would blame yourself like right now, and feel what you’re feeling right now.”

“So, yes. I didn’t want to tell you because you were the last person on earth I would want to feel guilty about it, be miserable for no good reason and pity me. It made even more sense not to tell you when I got it back. There was just no point, especially when it seemed you would rather not be saddled with a baggaged version of me. But I would be lying if I said it was all about you,” she admitted. “I wanted to keep the truth away from you, mostly for me.”

Hermione could see Harry was struggling to follow what she was getting at.

“I did it for the same reason I didn’t wake you that morning two years ago.”

“You wanted to know how I really felt about you?” his tone laced with frustration. “You could have just asked me. What’s wrong with asking me?”

“I couldn’t. Had you known about this all along and I asked you how you felt about me, either way I would have found your answer difficult to live with,” Hermione was trying her best to explain.

“You were concerned that I would say I didn’t want to be with you?” he asked her.

Hermione replied, “A rejection would have been devastating, but no, I couldn’t imagine ever hearing that from you. I was more concerned that you would say you did want to be with me and that I would never know why.”

She continued, “If I told you I would have speculated forever if you really loved me, or merely felt sorry for me, like it was your duty, that you had to repay me for some sort of debt for my going through all that. I didn’t want to see this look of sadness and sympathy in your eyes and wonder if this is the reason why you hug me, kiss me, bring me flowers, make love to me, marry me and have children with me. I’d rather we weren’t together if it was going to be a lifetime of that.”

“Until I realized you were so unsure about how I felt about you, it was my every intention not to let you know, so I wouldn’t ever have to face the possibility of that imperfection between us. I love you, Harry, and I want to be with you. But what I desperately needed was for you to be certain that you want to be with me and come to that conclusion on your own, without having to deal with all these emotions you have about what happened to me. And I’m relieved you did.”

She waited, as she searched for some hint of understanding from him, finally seeing the tension from his face subside and the perplexity in his eyes disappear. He pulled her towards him and they embraced for quite some time.

“I guess, in a way, you wanted to make sure you were not going to be my lost cause, either,” Harry replied without moving away, alluding to the fact that he had thought he was hers. “Had I known this insecurity of yours about how I feel could cause us so much trouble I would have just told you how I felt that day at Madame Puddifoot’s.”

They had a laugh about that. She made a mental note for them to talk about that some other time.

He looked into her eyes and said, wistfully “You do realize that I may not be able to stop feeling guilty about your one hundred and eighty-six days without magic and you may still have a lifetime of me looking at you this way.”

She appreciated that he actually remembered the number. Truly, she still wished she didn’t have to tell him, but it was a compromise that she could live with.

“It helps knowing that your choice to be with me right now isn’t about what happened. I figured, if I could stop feeling sorry for myself you could do the same eventually. And if you can’t, then you can’t.”

It was one of those unknowns she couldn’t really think about right now.

Then he asked, “How can you look at me and not hate me?

“I can’t hate you, it wasn’t your fault,” she guessed it would take some time for that to sink in.

“Don’t I remind you of what you went through?”

So, that was what he was thinking about, what she didn’t expect. The truth of the matter was he did remind her of it, but now knowing without a doubt that he loved her made a big difference in how she viewed her horrific experience.

“I do remember, Harry, and remembering what I went through makes me cherish every moment that we’re together even more.”

On those words, Harry leaned over and kissed her, sweet and deep, signaling his acceptance of what had transpired and their new beginning. She replied in kind, tasting and imbibing all the wonderful emotions he had for her and wanted her to know, feeling his love search and quash any residual pockets of pain and misgivings about what had occurred between them, fervently hoping that he was feeling the same.

It did not take long for their kiss to become one of yearning and utmost need. His every touch seared through her nightgown, and as their bodies strained against each other, trying to eliminate what little space there was between them, she knew for a fact that his longing was as potent as hers.

At the first opportunity to break their passionate kiss, she stood in front of him, their breaths laboured, eyes drunken and ablaze with desire only for each other. Slowly, she slipped off the little she had on and watched him as his eyes wandered all over her, allowing him to see her fully uncovered. There was nothing about her that she wanted hidden from him ever again.

Soon after, Harry joined her, a mere shaving of air separating them; the intense heat from his body radiating as he took off his shirt and his trousers. As she suspected from their unbridled physical tryst at her apartment the night before, he had changed in the two years he was away, becoming even more physically attractive, at least to her. Their bodies brushed lightly as he walked around and paused right behind her, not yet touching but so near she could feel his fully aroused state through his black boxers, which he chose to leave on for now. She closed her eyes, trying to picture what he was doing, feeling his piercing gaze bathe her, anticipating what he was going to do, thinking if it was not going to be soon she would burst.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered into her left ear, his warm breath glancing over her skin where the words fell, sending a trail of enjoyable shivers down her spine. As his lips started nibbling her ear, on instinct she leaned back and craned her neck to allow him better access. A strong warm hand pulled her in tighter to his frame, her back feeling his muscles tense up as his mouth gently grazed the length of the side of her neck while a hand cradled one of her pert breasts, its fingers rubbing her highly sensitive nipple. She could only moan in pleasure as his other hand began to explore, stroke and caress every other part of her, seemingly intentionally avoiding the one place she wanted him to touch.

Unable to contain her own desire, she turned and pressed up against him, the feel of his taunt muscles and bare skin on hers evoking senses she never thought she had. She took his roving hand and led it to touch her in the one place he had not yet done so. Sounds of delight escaped from within her, savouring the titillating sensations as he finally fondled her there with tenderness.

He grinned, “A little impatient, are we?”

“Tease,” she accused him as she found his mouth with hers, his tongue immediately meeting hers halfway.

Recognizing his unreasonable advantage, her fingers worked on getting rid of the last piece of garment between them.

“Not yet,” he murmured against her lips, one of his hands on hers, preventing her from completing the task, at least trying to. “Not until you’re ready. It’s been so long, I can’t be responsible...”

His voice trailed off as she persisted and finally succeeded, unfairly magically causing the offending piece to disappear. She couldn’t help a smile. How could she think he was just shy?

Typical Harry, so considerate.

“Stop worrying about me,” she tried to reassure him, then added impishly, her lips brushing against his as she spoke, “And whatever you do, I promise not to hold it against you. You have total absolution, at least for the next 24 hours.”

“You might just regret you said that,” he said, meeting her gaze.

“Stop talking and make me,” she challenged.

As if that was what Harry was waiting for, he smooched her mindless and laid her on the bed a few feet away. To Hermione’s surprise, he was not done. He continued to kiss and caress every inch of her nakedness, her body writhing under him with his every touch, involuntary incomprehensive sounds escaping her throat every now and then, certain she was being set on fire. Barely managing to perform a discrete nonverbal contraceptive spell, she had totally lost all control; her every action and every deed now purely instinctive.

“Harry…please…” she moaned softly into his ear, stroking him, imploring him to fulfill the immense longing that he had stirred up from within her.

Hearing this, Harry seemed persuaded at last that Hermione was ready for him. Hermione obligingly made room, opening herself up as he slid in between her legs. She welcomed him in her moist inner space, his every thrust harder and deeper than the preceding one, touching her where no one but him had ever before. His intense expression matched his quickening pace and she allowed herself to bask in the emerald sea of his affectionate and loving eyes, until infinite gratifying vibrations exploded throughout her entire being, perpetuating, as she heard him adoringly say her name the same time he peaked and filled her inside with his warmth, completely!

There were tears of happiness in both as they held each other and kissed, both preferring to stay in the intimate connection they were in as long as they could. All she could think of at that instant was that it was definitely a moment she would treasure forever.

XXXXXXXXXX

Ritchie’s blue Saab pulled into a parking space a few meters from the Saint Lamb Homes Foundation building. He looked at his watch. 8:28.

He was finally discharged from the hospital around five in the morning following a sedative induced rest. After retrieving his car from near the Screeching Moon, he went home, took a shower, and received a message from the Yard. There was nothing suspicious about how the Goodriches passed away and there was no record of any Theresa Lane.

Maybe Lane was fictitious. Or maybe someone magical. He would need Harry or one of the Aurors to check that out.

He took the fisherman’s hat he had on the passenger’s seat, wore it, and looked at himself on the rear view mirror. Ritchie never fished a day in his life. An expletive escaped his mouth in the same breath as ‘Harry Potter’.

Taking a sip from the cup of inferior java he bought at a local café, it reminded him of her and how they were never going to have early morning talks over coffee. He resisted the urge to call her. He had already taken a couple of painkillers that morning and while that had done wonders for his bodily aches, the one inside his chest was as raw as it was last night as it finally sunk in that she would never be his.

As he walked from his car to a better vantage point, he saw a few cloaked figures exit the Foundation, two broke off and walked towards him. The rest went into an alley and likely Disapparated. He immediately recognized Tonks and Melissa; both had grave expressions.

“Whoa!” Tonks couldn’t hide her surprise at what she saw, “What happened? Did a truck run you over?”

“Sounds like a good excuse to me,” he replied, deciding that was what he was going to tell Jane when she asked, though that might not explain everything. He diverted the conversation to the case at hand, thankful that Jane had nullified that magical contract he signed two months ago. “What’s going on?”

Melissa answered, “Cleaning witch found Gomez dead this morning.”

“Greed?”

Both nodded. Jane was right. If Ron survived last night, Gomez was likely the family the Cardinal was referring to. This was not good in many levels. It meant that Cardinal was now solo, had likely lost a few more screws, gone way over the edge, and was just two deaths shy of completing the set. It meant that there was one less finger that could help point them in the right direction.

“Surveillance?” he inquired, knowing Kingsley sent someone after the meeting.

“Flint took the shift last night. All was quiet when he arrived at eleven and was first on the scene when the witch started wailing at seven,” Tonks shared the information with him.

Melissa postulated, “It must have happened after you left and before Flint arrived.”

Great. One of the individuals he saw last night was probably Gomez and the other was the Cardinal. Did that mean he actually owed Harry his life for calling him at the exact moment he was about to barge in on them? The thought was leaving a very bad taste in his mouth.

“I’m guessing the place is clean,” Ritchie knew that the Cardinal was trying to get rid of evidence that would reveal identity.

“Totally empty, as if nobody had used the property for decades,” Tonks answered, “Except...”

Tonks took from within her cloak an evidence bag containing a small, circular, patch-like device with a concavity at its centre and held it up.

“What’s that?” Ritchie asked, thinking it looked like an eye patch, with a Velcro strap.

She tossed the bag over to Melissa to examine.

“It was concealed. I found it clasped tightly around Gomez’s left hand. So, what is it?” she challenged her trainee.

Melissa seemed stumped and baffled, finally saying “I don’t know.”

Tonks replied, “I guess they don’t teach this at the Academy anymore. It was way before your time; actually, way before mine. Hold the hollow part up against your throat and talk.”

Melissa did as Tonks instructed and asked, “What do you want me to say?”

Ritchie’s eyes widened as he heard a chilling voice that, since two weeks ago, sometimes haunted him in his sleep.

He coached her, “Say, ‘You will regret this’.”

She did and it confirmed his suspicion.

“Voldemort.”

Tonks explained as she took the bag back from Melissa, “It’s a voice altering device. When Voldemort first disappeared years ago after trying to kill Harry when he was a child, the Aurors needed a lot of help to flush out Death Eaters who were pretending to have been Imperiused. It had lost its anonymity and became a liability after an Auror using it was killed.”

“So really, that person, who we presume is Didler, that you encountered at the warehouse, could have been a man, a woman, old, young, or anyone; could have been us,” Tonks opined. “But whoever it was, it was definitely someone familiar to Ron and Hermione to go through all lengths to put up a disguise.”

“Interesting,” was all Ritchie could say.

He wondered if they missed any potential evidence in the two weeks that they narrowed their search to a bloke. If the Cardinal was a woman, voice alteration was actually quite ingenious.

“One a day. At this rate, Harry, within forty-eight hours,” Melissa calculated. “If he’s with Hermione, I hope he’s been practicing.”

Ritchie doubted that very much.

Tonks had a knowing smile on her face, “I’m sure he’s doing what he’s supposed to be doing.”

He pondered which one Harry would get of the two remaining curses, anger or lust. From what he knew about him and from personal experience, his money was on the former.

“Any clues as to who the next victim will be?”

Melissa showed him a piece of parchment. On it was one word.

FRIEND

Tonks said, “You’d think a lunatic like that wouldn’t have friends.”

“This friend does not have much time. Any more leads on Didler?” Melissa asked.

Ritchie shook his head. After Dean’s appointment book disappeared yesterday, Jane had suggested that it was better for Neville’s impending list to remain known only to five people: Jane, Harry, himself, Neville and Professor McGonagall. That was to protect Neville and his students, all of whom would be in grave danger at least until the list actually existed. And Jane had not yet had the opportunity to sort out Dean’s memory since the incident last night.

His eyes watered in pain as he suddenly let out an involuntary sneeze. Both witches felt terrible for him, prompting Tonks to ask.

“Are you waiting for Hermione to fix you up, because Melissa can do it, too? She’s our resident mediwizard,” then noticing his skepticism, added, “She is, really.”

Actually, it was an offer he could not refuse. Going through what he endured last night made him regret his decision to not let Harry do his thing and he would rather not have Jane see him like this.

Before proceeding Melissa asked, “What about the…um…hair?”

Tonks jested, “It’s a lovely shade of magenta. You may want to keep it. This was Harry’s handiwork, wasn’t it?”

Ritchie had this fixed fake smile on his face. He prided himself to be an excellent judge of character but this time he was so wrong. He found out quite unexpectedly at 2am at the East London General Hospital Emergency Room through a reflection of his image that when sufficiently provoked, it wasn’t beneath Harry Potter to jinx a mere Muggle like him.

XXXXXXXXXX

Around the same time, Hermione woke up in the arms of the man she loved. She turned to face Harry and watched him sleep for a couple of minutes before finally getting up. By the time she had showered and dressed half an hour later he was still sound asleep.

A slightly embarrassed smile formed on her lips as she remembered the last time he woke her up. It must have been close to six o’clock and wherever it came from it was amazing that they, well mostly he, had the energy to make love a third time.

“Harry?” she knew he was still awake.

“Yes, luv?” he acknowledged opening his eyes to meet her questioning stare.

“It’s not in any way a complaint but how…do you…,” she didn’t quite know how to ask the question. “When you said it’s been a while, how long exactly has it been since you last slept with another woman?”

“You don’t really want to know,” he replied.

“No,” she said incredulously when she realized what he was getting at.

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Really, though it wasn’t for lack of trying.”

She said to him jokingly, throwing a pillow at his face, “I can’t believe you’re making me feel guilty!”

He was laughing, and caught the pillow just before it hit him “Hey, you asked the question! I’ll make you a deal. You can stop feeling guilty about it after I stop feeling guilty about what happened to you.”

She was fine with that, him joking about it, tastefully; anything to help make him get over it.

“But that’s not much of a deal!”

They kissed each other back to sleep.

She was expecting Neville’s list today and because she was still a fugitive she had asked him to have it delivered to Harry. At some point during the early morning they did get a chance to talk about the case, sharing what they found out and what they thought. To her it was almost a certainty that the Cardinal was Didler. She looked at the faded Ministry picture of Gomez with the foster children he took to a Ministry function a while back. She found it difficult to imagine that one of the innocent faces on it could be a murderer.

Hermione put the picture back in Harry’s cloak pocket and as she was about to leave, she kissed him. He stirred but must have been so tired he did not wake up. She was on her way to St. Mungo’s to see Ron and see if Ginny was back. She couldn’t stop smiling.

XXXXXXXXXX

The Cardinal was on time for the meeting at Number 12 Grimmauld Place last night and was quite relieved that Granger had survived the Dementors and the Tunnel. However, there was a bit of startling news.

Granger and company had figured out the Gomez connection to the Saint Lamb Homes Foundation. That in itself was not a surprise because it was plainly visible on Gomez’ Ministry charts and explicitly connected to T.M.Didler. However, there had been no surveillance assignments coming from Shacklebolt last night and there was no concern meeting a reluctant Gomez there. What was unexpected was that the Tilly had been doing some extracurricular snooping of his own and had almost walked in on them. Sometimes it was good to be lucky. That would have been most unfortunate for him.

Seeing Gomez’s lifeless body that morning with the other Aurors was a bit unnerving and brought back what happened last night.

“Miguel, I’m afraid I don’t have much time to discuss this. This is not a negotiation,” the Cardinal said, looking at a timepiece on the office wall.

“But I raised you as if you were my own,” Gomez was pleading, trying to reason out.

“I doubt that if I were your own you would have allowed Lowes to teach me how to murder and asked me to kill all those Muggles and Dorner,” bitterness filled the air.

“That was my mistake. I failed you as a parent.”

“A mistake?” the Cardinal laughed sardonically. “And everyone makes mistakes, right?”

“I’m sorry, Terry. Your Mum was a sweet and gentle soul who cared about life and about people. She would be more forgiving,” Gomez was begging for understanding.

“Stop calling me that! I know what you’re trying to do. It’s not going to work.”

“You’re a good person,” Gomez seemed to want to believe it, too.

“You have no idea what doing those curses over and over again did to me!”

“You can go back to who you were before. No one has to know you did this.”

“I will! And very soon everyone else will! You panicked and sold me out! I know you released your Ministry files to Kingsley.”

“It was an error…we can still fix this…there is time,” Gomez sputtered, obviously making up something out of nothing, “We…we can find another T.M. Didler for them to chase after…”

Gomez was foolishly reaching for his wand but he was not quick enough. Didler blocked a stunning spell, then briefly allowed Gomez to do what he could to save his pathetic existence.

In a rush, Didler with finality pointed a wand to Gomez, his death quite intended and his life of greed in mind, said as the horror in Gomez’s eyes changed to acceptance, “Utile Avaritia!”

As the green flash of light hit him, the Cardinal, as with previous victims, could see and hear Gomez’s thoughts as he was going to go through them. His mind filled with racing, garbled views about becoming Minister for Magic, Minister for all of Europe, Magical Leader of the rest of the World…having unimaginable power and wealth…hunger filled his entire being…desiring it…wanting it so much it ached…his chest was tightening…excruciating, tormenting, consuming pain…it was necessary to live…imperative to possess it…to make this violent pain go away…a thought of his heart being on fire and exploding…then non-existence…

Last night, a few tears fell onto Gomez’s body as Didler shoved a piece of parchment into his cloak pocket. He was the one constant that bridged the Cardinal’s life from childhood to present and now, he was dead.

On the way out, all records contained within the edifice were expunged. It was unfortunate that Aurors found the voice alteration device. But it was only a matter of time before Granger found out who T.M.Didler was and there would be no need for disguises anymore. Didler was in a race to murder numbers six and seven and put away Granger before she could unmask the Cardinal. And the next person on the Cardinal list had just made contact to meet.

But before that, Granger needed a lookout while performing the healing spell and the Cardinal had volunteered.

XXXXXXXXXX

Harry woke up close to eleven a.m. It was a good thing he did not have to report to the Ministry today, so he and Hermione could start working on the curses. With his eyes still closed, her smell, her feel and her voice buzzed him senseless. He couldn’t stop smiling. He reached over to where he last felt her and came up with air.

The bedroom was empty and the place felt the same. He thought about the events of yesterday and last night, lingering on Ron’s memory and how it could have actually ruined everything for her had he looked at it before coming over. He could relate to that; being with someone, have them look at you and wonder if they were with you only because you suffered so much as a child, because you had an evil wizard out to kill you or because you were famous.

Grabbing a sheet to cover him up, he walked out onto the living area. No sign of Hermione. His heart skipped a beat as he noticed a cup on the counter with a note pinned under it.

Not again.

Harry,

I guess you’re absolutely beat. I couldn’t wake you. I’m on my way to see Ron and hopefully Ginny. Call me when you wake up. By the way, relax. It’s only coffee.

Love,

H

He laughed at his initial reaction, imagining she was too as she wrote the last part of her note. He was actually contemplating if he should convince Hermione to always wake him if she needed to leave, and never, ever leave him notes on the kitchen counter. Or maybe, he’ll get over the bad taste of that first one. Now, where did he leave his phone?

As Harry searched his clothes on the bedroom floor, someone started knocking on the door. He quickly dressed, suspecting that it was Ritchie, not wanting him to think he was gloating.

Ritchie walked in, looking a lot more normal than when Harry left him at the hospital.

He asked, “Where is she?”

“With Ron or Ginny. I was about to call her. Do you want some coffee? She made a pot,” Harry offered and felt an abruptness in Ritchie’s refusal.

“Let’s get her on the phone. Gomez is dead.”

Ritchie told him what Tonks and Melissa told him, including the voice altering device found on Gomez, as Harry tried to get her on the phone. It was ringing.

“Who fixed you up?” Harry couldn’t contain his curiosity, quite impressed.

Ritchie told him, “She’s pretty good, apparently comes from a family of healers. I guess Jane had to re-do yours.”

Hermione was not answering. The phone indicated that she was still at St. Mungo’s. He was about to try again when a barn owl swooped into the room through the small kitchen window and headed for Harry. It was the list from Neville.

Neither spoke a word as Harry sat at the kitchen table with Ritchie after the owl left. Harry opened Neville’s list containing the names of the first years from 1994 without matching admission letters. There were eighteen names, most of them quite familiar to Harry.

He summoned the yearbooks from the bedroom, too late to realize that Ritchie saw the evidence of their frenzied lovemaking through the open doors.

“Sorry,” was all he could he say.

“Look, I’m not fine, but I’ll be,” Ritchie replied of their awkward situation, then opened the yearbook from when Didler would have been a 1st year.

Neville’s list was arranged by houses. First on it were Gryffindors, followed by Ravenclaws, Slytherins and Hufflepuffs. They went through it one by one, matching each name on the list with the ones on each of the yearbooks, both of them trying to look for something, anything, suggestive or suspicious.

Harry was about to give up when the second to the last name on Neville’s list jumped out at him. His pulse quickened as he took from his pocket the faded picture of Gomez posing with foster children that he got from the Ministry Social Functions Office, flipped the yearbook hastily to the page with that person’s first year picture.

“It can’t be,” Ritchie said in disbelief as he saw the similarity that Harry had seen as well. Harry, too, was in disbelief.

Visibly upset at himself after realizing what he missed, he said to Ritchie, “And we had Didler’s current alias all along!”

He wrote something out in the air with his wand.

SAINT LAMB HOMES

With a flick of his wrist, the letters rearranged themselves and revealed almost the exact same name of the first year on the yearbook and on Neville’s list. St. Mungo would be rolling in his grave had he known that his name, though rightfully belonging to the Cardinal by blood, would be connected to such gruesome atrocities against society.

Chapter 31 - Anger and Lust

Standing just outside Ron Weasley’s room, Didler was very excited about how the day was unfolding. There was still so much work to be done but if all went as planned, the second set of murders using Cardinal curses was going to be completed in less than twelve hours.

The sense of urgency was due to the serious implication of being discovered before the seventh murder. Didler had realized a long time ago that being an outcast and an outlaw was not an acceptable fate. Death would be preferable. It was imperative that the seventh murder occur before the Cardinal’s identity was unmasked.

Currently, Granger was inside the room performing the healing spell. Weasley would have probably awoken already if not for the reverse spells Didler did to prevent a highly compromising situation. While it was Didler’s every desire to let Weasley live, somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, he knew who the Cardinal was. There was a big risk that Granger would be able to pick at his altered memory to see what happened at her apartment that night Dorner was murdered. It was better for Weasley to remain in a coma until Granger was either in Azkaban or dead.

Plotting nefarious activities sure required full time commitment! Crucial to the success of the plan was for Granger and Potter to not be able to confer with one another. Granger and Tilly had definitely profited from Potter’s return. They were going nowhere in their investigation until he returned. It was only common sense that they not be allowed to discuss the case further. Granger had not realized it yet but her phone was no longer in her possession and was now confunded to puzzle anyone trying to take advantage of its tracking charm. She would not see Potter until it was his turn to be cursed.

It was difficult to arrange and stage on such a short notice but all was good. Number six was primed and would be ready when they met in an hour. Granger was about to receive an invitation to watch.

Yes. The friend was going to be a better specimen than Malfoy. After all, it would be more devastating for Granger to lose a friend than an enemy, even if that meant Didler would lose a friend too.

xxxxxxxxxx

Just inside Ron’s room, Hermione was finished with the morning healing session. Before she started, she talked to him for a bit. She wasn’t sure if he could hear her but just in case, she thought it might please him to know that she had sorted things out with Harry. She felt him squeeze her hand as she held it and hoped that was not just her imagination.

A couple of Healers were talking about the Gomez murder on her way in. Hermione was quite disturbed about the fact that the Cardinal was indeed capable of killing family, which could only mean anyone was fair game. Also, there seemed to be a rush to complete the second set of murders and her concern was that Harry had yet to learn one single counter-curse.

The one good thing about the latest murder was that Scrimgeour had cut his vacation short and was being briefed by Kingsley about recent events. Harry was back in her life, they were close to finding the Cardinal’s identity and the Ministry was, in all likelihood, going to be on their side. Things were beginning to look up.

She heard someone come into the room and glanced over towards the door. Putting her wand away, she said, “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

“I’m glad to help. How is he?” the individual Hermione didn’t know was Didler responded in an earnest caring voice.

“I felt him squeeze my hand,” Hermione shared the experience.

“That’s great news,” Didler replied. “You said you wanted to ask me something.”

“Yes, about Hogwarts. We found Didler’s name in a logbook listing students requiring financial assistance.”

“You did?” a surprised but seemingly less positive response than Hermione thought it would be.

“Yes, and there’s a huge possibility that Didler attended Hogwarts under a pseudonym and is from your first year class. Do you know of anyone who might be capable of all this?”

“In my class? I can’t imagine who it could be.”

Hermione was looking at reactions that were subtly incongruent to what she thought they would be as she half listened to Didler talk about possible suspects from the first year class.

“There was Jeffers, he always seemed to get into trouble…”

Bonham was a common last name but since Hogwarts, she had always meant to ask the Hufflepuff whether or not there was a relation to St. Mungo Bonham, founder of St. Mungo’s. Harry did mention reading from Gomez’ notes that Didler’s mother, Elise Kline, was a descendant of the famous Healer.

“It could be Slayer, she was such an outcast I wouldn’t be surprised…”

During the course of her Lumos research as she was putting together her list of enabled, she found Didler’s name in the Ministry archive; a one-liner, stating that the eight year old’s mother died to protect her child. They knew Didler was in the Muggle foster care system until that name disappeared from Muggle records at age 11 in 1994, presumably because of a change in name to the Hogwarts alias. The meeting between Gomez, Professor Dumbledore, and Fudge happened a few days after Voldemort got his body back following the Triwizard Tournament.

“We can always ask Flint about his fellow Slytherins…”

Was it all a coincidence or was it because Didler was indeed Voldemort’s child? The fact that Didler was an anagram for Riddle and the timing of Professor Dumbledore’s meeting with the Ministry about the child seemed to suggest strongly that there was a Voldemort connection. If so, Gomez probably helped set that up using a Muggle charity, most likely to protect Didler, so there would be no direct link to a specific witch or wizard in the magical world for Voldemort or any of the Death Eaters to find.

“It might be helpful if I looked at our class list to refresh my memory…”

From the Gomez files and the Muggle records it was evident that the Saint Lamb Homes Foundation was created around the same time Dumbledore met with Gomez. The charity was definitely vital to finding Didler. She first heard of the name of the charity late last night and how it was named after some Muggle do-gooder, a non-Church sanctioned saint, Theresa Lane. Lamb Lane. St. Lamb. St. Lamb Homes. Or was it Saint Lamb? Saint Lamb Homes. Her heart started beating faster as an insight suddenly hit her about the person she was talking to.

Saint Lamb Homes! Once she missed the ‘Didler’ anagram she wouldn’t have missed this had she looked closer at the charity’s name!

“…though it is clear that you don’t need my help after all.”

Hermione’s hand moved quickly over to her concealed wand but she was too late! A curse hit her squarely on the chest and the last person she saw before blacking out was the Cardinal, Melissa Bonham, Ron’s Melissa, formerly T.M.Didler!

xxxxxxxxxx

Over at the safe house, both Harry and Ritchie stared at the name that was displayed in the air; Didler’s Hogwarts name and current pseudonym, with a first initial.

T MELISSA BONHAM

Harry found it still difficult to believe that Melissa was Didler and was the Cardinal. She can’t be.

“That small face on the Gomez picture looks like her at eleven but it’s so faded, we could just be grasping at straws here. I wouldn’t even think that was her until you put it right next to her old Hogwarts picture. You don’t think this could be coincidence, do you?” Ritchie asked him.

Harry couldn’t think it was, “There’s way too much coincidence. It is her. What do we know about the Cardinal that fits?”

Ritchie started. “Hogwarts. She knows Jane, but more so Ron. The Cardinal seemed to almost always be a step ahead of us. That would also mean easier access to her wand. And her Ministry connection; she would have been able to influence the Aurors not investigate the Muggle murders.”

It was Harry’s turn. “She’s close to Ginny, the twins, and, I’m sure, Dean, too,” thinking of that day after Hermione escaped, when Ginny and Melissa talked about how much Melissa spoiled the twins, “No problems at all to imperiuse him.”

“Blonde hair, about the right height and you might not notice breasts under a cloak,” Ritchie chimed in, assuming the person he saw enter the Foundation last night was Melissa.

“That night, at Hermione’s apartment,” Harry remembered his dream about a woman screaming, Ron’s surprised expression, that scream actually sounded more angry than concerned, “Ron must have recognized her.”

“If Lyle knew her as Didler, she definitely had to get rid of him.”

“When Dean was arrested, Tonks made her alter the lawyer’s memory, and she would have had the chance to look at what Dean said about the Cardinal. She had the means and opportunity to destroy Dean’s appointment book,” Harry theorized.

“And she comes from a family of Healers,” Ritchie wondered if there was anything else she did to him aside from fixing him, “Healer Frances would have definitely worked with Elise Kline. She might look like her mother.”

“What do we know that doesn’t quite fit?”

“There’s the oft quoted statistic that most serial killers are male. And she’s Ron’s girlfriend,” Ritchie answered. “She seems like a caring person to me. There’s just nothing about her that makes me think ‘murderous lunatic’.”

“I know what you mean,” thinking about how devastated Ron would be, “But if what we suspect is true, we are dealing with Voldemort’s daughter.”

Voldemort did fool a lot of people about his intentions. There was nothing else they could think of. The conclusion was so obvious it was hard to ignore.

“Bonham,” Ritchie repeated, “A good choice for a name considering it’s so common. When you introduced us yesterday, you never said her last name.”

Harry knew that somehow his and Ron’s unkind act would come back to haunt them.

“Until seeing her Hogwarts picture with her name on it, I’ve always only remembered her as Melissa, the Fainting One,” Harry didn’t think that would be a good way to introduce her to him and was as miffed at himself for having thought about her as just that.

He should have paid more attention to Hermione when she was rattling off Melissa’s bio just before that catastrophic date at Hogwarts but he and Ron were not taking all that too seriously. They were more interested in coming up with colourful titles for his dates. There was Kyla the Manly One, Penelope the Emotional One, Jessie the One with the Big Ones. And unfortunately, Melissa was the Fainting One.

Harry was trying Hermione on the phone again. Still there was to answer. She was now at the Burrow. He had a bad feeling that something was about to come down. Ritchie was as visibly worried as he was.

“Her next victim will be a friend,” Ritchie pointed out, “Do you think it’s Jane?”

Harry shook his head, “She wants Hermione to be around for the seventh murder.”

Then he just realized something that made his stomach churn.

“We should start searching for any known close acquaintances,” Ritchie suggested what he had just quickly done.

“We don’t need to,” Harry replied, quite unhappy about the conclusion he arrived at. They had to hurry. “I’ll take you to the Ministry. Tell only Kingsley and Tonks. They will know what to do.”

“Wait, who’s the friend?”

“The last two curses are anger and lust.”

“Yes.”

“The other night, Malfoy fought off the anger curse.”

Ritchie swore as he came to the same conclusion. “Didler found a replacement that same night!”

“It’s going to be Ginny. Her seeing those portraits of Hermione was not accidental after all. Didler staged it to make her angry. I just hope Hermione finds Ginny before Didler does,” Harry thought Hermione might be waiting for her at the Burrow and knowing Ginny, Hermione would likely need his help trying to convince her that the Dean affair was not true.

“You’ll call me when you find Jane, right?” Ritchie asked him.

Harry didn’t blink when he answered, “Of course I will.”

They quickly gathered all the evidence they had and Harry took Ritchie to the Ministry Atrium by side-along Apparition, giving him directions on how to find the Auror Office. He wasted no time Disapparating to the Burrow to find Hermione and hopefully, Ginny.

He contemplated Ritchie’s request about calling him. Technically, he wasn’t lying. Not yet. Depending on where she was and who she was with, Harry wasn’t sure if he would want Ritchie to come, and Harry would not be able to prevent that once Ritchie knew where to go. There was no point involving a Muggle in the magical confrontation that was bound to happen and Harry needed the peace of mind that if things didn’t go well for him, being that he was already tagged as victim for murder number seven, Hermione would have someone left alive and able to help her go through it.

If it came to that Harry trusted Ritchie knowing he was able to do it successfully once before.

xxxxxxxxxx

Somewhere in St. Mungo’s, Hermione was awoken from a not so restful slumber. She felt like she just got hit on the chest with a hundred mile per hour tennis serve. Didler. Recalling what transpired just before she blacked out, Hermione looked around to assess the situation.

She was inside the same secure room she was a prisoner of just a few days ago, on the floor. Around her was a purplish cube of mist, and as she got up and tried to move she couldn’t get any part of her past the bubble, as if she was in an immovable, solid glass encasement. It was a conjured cell measuring roughly six feet high and about six feet wide all around. In purple, of all colors.

“Welcome back,” Didler’s cold grey eyes met hers. “It’s a confinement jinx, non-Ministry issue and there’s an Anti-Disapparition spell covering the area, so don’t get any ideas.”

Hermione just looked at her and did not answer. She was scanning the perimeter for her wand. The clank of wood on wood interrupted her and she looked down on the table just outside her cell. So, that was why she couldn’t find it.

In front of her, broken in half, was her wand. Now she was really pissed off. She loved that piece of vine wood.

“I guess you can try and break the spell, but I’m afraid I may have damaged your wand,” Didler deadpanned. “You won’t need one after today, not where you’re going.”

She chose not to say anything. Sadly enough, since getting her magic back, she had been looking forward to this second meeting with the Cardinal but never did she envision she would be without use of her wand just like the first time. Without magic, her current fall back plan was to prevent the other murders and not to get killed unless she could take Didler with her. How exactly she would accomplish that she didn’t know yet.

Why did Didler bring her here? Hermione knew she wasn’t on the Cardinal list. What is she up to?

“I understand if you’re at a loss for words. This must all be a shock for you. And you’re probably wondering why you’re here and what’s next.”

There were many unpleasant things Hermione was willing to do rather than admit to Didler that she was right.

“If you’re about to tell me how what you’ve done is not your fault and that you are a victim yourself, just spare me. Save the sob story for someone who’ll sob,” Hermione said acerbically.

Didler pursed her lips and clenched her jaw. As Hermione suspected, Didler craved for understanding and validation. Hermione would not give her that satisfaction, not unless it served some other purpose.

“No. I just thought I’d invite you to watch the last two murders,” Didler waved her wand and the mirror in front of her turned transparent. She could now see the adjacent observation room. A chair had also appeared inside her confined space. “Front row seat and the show is about to start any second now. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but the next one is a friend. My friend and your friend.”

A friend. Not Ron, not Harry.

Ginny.

As Hermione realized this, an absolute frustration jarred her. This evil woman, whose eyes were now shining with delight at her reaction, knew exactly what to do to hurt her the most. She racked her mind for a plan but barely had time to come up with something as she saw the red head walk into the adjacent room looking very distraught.

xxxxxxxxxx

Ginny had not slept much since that night she last spoke with Dean. That night, after she stomped back to the house, she searched every inch of their abode for evidence of treachery and found it in the basement. She did not believe it but there it was, so seemingly out of place it was actually obvious.

Tucked away behind a stack of empty paint pails, seemingly left there in a haphazard way, was a shoebox; a ladies shoebox. It did not belong to her. She recognized that it was from a popular Muggle store that Herm…, no she couldn’t even think ‘her’ name anymore, much less say it, that ‘she’ frequently bought ‘hers’ from.

She walked towards it, picked it up and set it on one of the tables. Somewhat afraid of what she would find, she tugged at the piece of parchment jutting out of from under its lid. The lid opened slightly and allowed the rest of the parchment to reveal itself.

It was a letter undated, unaddressed and unsigned, unmistakably written by ‘her’. Ginny sat down, her hands shaking as she read it.

I sense that Ginny knows. I’m afraid that I won’t be able to lie about us. I hope she doesn’t ask.

There were other letters, dozens of them, in her handwriting, on parchment with her scent.

I keep telling myself I’m over you but who am I kidding? I see you everywhere I go. I see you in everything I do. I can’t sleep because I know you will be in my dreams. I’m even writing you when I am not supposed to. I can’t help wondering how you are. I hope you’re over the guilt of what we did so you can come back to me.

And Ginny read every one of them. Notes with no dates and no names, most of them tear stained, some unfinished as if it was too painful to continue to write.

I thought I’d celebrate. It’s our anniversary. My living room, lit fire, the difference is that in your place is this incessant pulsating pain in my chest. The firewhiskey makes the throbbing worse and I find comfort that it does. I love you and the second I don’t feel anguish, I know I have stopped.

It seemed they ended it on Dean’s request but ‘she’ could not let go and ‘she’ kept sending him letters. It did not seem that he replied. Instead, he painted. She could not help but be livid at ‘her’. How could ‘she’?

Thankfully Melissa had come the following day to calm her down. Her friend suggested going away, even for just a day, to be by herself and think about what to do. Ginny took that advice. And now back with a clearer understanding of how she felt, she knew what she had to do.

Ginny received word from Melissa that she found something of interest about Dean and ‘her’. Melissa insisted they meet the moment she got back. She just got there, deciding to go straight to work rather than drop by the Burrow first to see the twins. It just seemed odd that Melissa chose to meet at St. Mungo’s and in the now empty interrogation room beside the cell where ‘she’ was held a few days ago. Melissa wasn’t there yet, and as she sat down at the end of the table, she noticed a blue screen come up next to a Pensieve and a scene play out before her.

She recognized the Screeching Moon, Tom the barkeep serving drinks to Dean and ‘her’ as they were seated beside each other at the bar. They were talking and laughing. Then Ginny saw him touch ‘her’ face, ‘she’ took his hand, held it, then put it on ‘her’ chest. Soon after, ‘she’ pulled a confused Dean towards ‘her’ and kissed him openly on the mouth. He kissed ‘her’ back.

Ginny couldn’t help the tears as her entire being shook, seething with rage.

xxxxxxxxxx

Observing everything through the glass partition, Hermione was feeling the same way.

“That never happened!” Hermione screamed at Didler, instantly regretting that she did as a gratified smirk appeared on Didler’s face.

“It’s amazing what damage an altered memory can do,” Didler explained, “Of course, the harder part was putting that seed in her mind and allowing it time to grow. Thank goodness Ron didn’t destroy the mushy letters you wrote Harry like you asked him to because no amount of imagination could have had the same effect. A few of them were quite handy to make the whole thing more believable to her.”

“Ginny is your friend,” Hermione had to try something, “She never did anything to you but be your friend. She doesn’t deserve this!”

“I was never enough of a friend for her!” Didler revealed, “She was constantly worried about you. About how you never went to the Burrow anymore or how you were avoiding her, thinking she had done something wrong. It was tiring listening to her go on and on about how things had changed with you and how she had to fix it!”

“Think of the twins! Think of Ron!” Hermione appealed, hoping that Didler had one drop of civility left in her.

But Didler ignored her and just said, “Enjoy the show.”

As Didler left the room, Hermione could only wish as hard as she could that Neville’s list had come and that Harry or Ritchie had figured this all out. Then hopefully, though she could not think how, they would know to go to St. Mungo’s with the Aurors.

Harry. Find me. I’m down here.

xxxxxxxxxx

Back at the Ministry, Ritchie had no difficulty finding Kingsley’s office but neither Kingsley nor Tonks were there. In fact, the only Aurors he could find were a deaf oldtimer named Lars and a muscular wizard who was very interested in what he had to say.

It was true what Ron said about Harry. He was a terrible liar, even when he was just contemplating about lying. Ritchie could tell that he did not want him involved in what was going to happen. Leaving all the evidence in Kingsley’s office and trusting Lars to find the Head Auror, he left with the other Auror to help look for Jane.

xxxxxxxxxx

Meanwhile, Harry had been on a wild goose chase trying to find Hermione through the tracking charm on their phones. For sure there was something amiss. She should have called him or Ritchie by now. He finally abandoned his search method and went to St. Mungo’s to see if Ginny had reported back so he could at least warn her about Didler. Then he had to continue looking for Hermione. He was worried that Didler had her already to get to him.

Just as he arrived, the image of Hermione in the holding cell in the bowels of St. Mungo’s suddenly interrupted his thoughts. He would check there next.

A few short minutes later, his fears had multiplied a hundred fold. Ginny had been spotted in the hospital but was now late for her shift. Didler must have Ginny. He was about to Disapparate to the basement when a familiar unpleasant voice rang out from a distance.

“Potter, stop right there!”

Aimes. He had his wand drawn out and Ritchie was with him, with a look of surprise. Did he not say Kingsley or Tonks only? He didn’t have time for this.

The Stunner he sent Aimes’ way found its mark sending the other wizard up and back about ten feet down the very public hallway. Screaming witches and shouts of caution filled the air. He had been itching to do that since the first time they met. At least he had a more valid reason for jinxing him. The commotion that would ensue was sure to bring in reinforcements, which would be a good thing if Didler was indeed in the building.

“What the hell did you that for? He was the only Auror available to help!” Ritchie was quite irate at Harry.

Harry had no time to explain, “He’s a complete git. We are better off without him.”

They Disapparated side-along to the bottom of the stairs five levels down and Harry could sense Hermione close by. They heard a loud noise from down the dark corridor leading to the secure area. Glass shattering. He turned to Ritchie.

“Listen, she told me everything, and I can’t thank you enough for what you did for her,” Harry said to him gravely.

“You can thank me later and for the rest of your life,” Ritchie replied, drawing out his gun to be ready for what they were about to face. “But just to be clear, the next time you jinx me, I’ll have to shoot you.”

“We all have to do what we have to do,” and Harry believed he had to. “I’m so sorry.”

Without further warning, Harry Petrified Ritchie and moved him to a dark corner. Over Ritchie’s piercing rage, he explained, “Guns are useless in there and I can’t risk you getting killed. She’ll need you again if things don’t work out. I hope you understand.”

Then he cautiously headed to the interrogation room. He had every intention to make things work out, even if that meant he was going to be shot.

xxxxxxxxxx

A short while ago in the interrogation after Didler left her, Hermione was trying to gain control of Ginny’s willow with dragonheart string core wand. It seemed that the confinement jinx was interfering with her ability to have complete mental access to it.

“I know, Hermione shouldn’t have,” Didler said in a sombre voice as Ginny continued to weep.

It’s not true!

“I have to go to work, Melissa,” Ginny finally said, trying to stop the crying and wiping off the tears from her face. “I’ll deal with her when I see her.”

You should know me better than think this!

“Take your wand out, Ginny. You’re not going to work today,” Didler said to Ginny as she drew hers out.

Hermione wished Didler would take her time. She tried Ginny’s wand again, this time with more desperation.

“What’s going on?” Ginny was perplexed, “I’m late for my shift already; I need the job.”

Willow and dragonheart string! I’ve done this before!

“You won’t need the job.”

“You’re acting really strange, you’re scaring me.”

“Imperio!”

Hermione cried out Ginny’s name just as she saw Ginny take her wand out on Didler’s command. Willow and dragonheart string!

Crash!!!

Finally, Hermione succeeded! The glass partition between the two rooms broke into a million pieces, and the two women in the other room turned to Hermione almost simultaneously!

“You!” Ginny addressed her with so much rage in her eyes, the elation she felt about getting Ginny’s attention quickly dissipated.

The disturbance must have broken up the Imperius curse Didler had on her! There was so much to say and likely not enough time to say it. It was going to be difficult to convince Ginny but she had to try.

“Don’t believe a word she says! I could never do that! You know this! She only wants you to be angry because she’s the…”

Hermione’s mouth kept moving but she lost her voice. Didler had obviously performed a silencing charm on her. Ginny was still looking at her.

She’s the Cardinal and she wants to kill you! Just remember the twins and how patient you have been with them, how patient you have to be with them! Concentrate on patience, Gin! I’ll try to help you!

Ginny now had a very confused expression Hermione wasn’t sure if she got the message.

“Utile Ira!”

As the dreadful green light from Didler’s wand hit Ginny, Hermione concentrated with all her might.

Contra Ira!

She spoke as clearly as she could with her lips and in her mind, using Ginny’s wand to try and disengage Ginny from the curse. Hermione did not know if it would work considering, not only had she never actually performed the counter curse, she could not do the proper wand motion. She and Ginny had lost eye contact.

“Utile Ira!”

Contra Ira!

Hermione did the counter curse again hoping Ginny’s patience was intense enough to hold off Didler’s anger curse. She could sense some annoyance on Didler’s part that she had to curse Ginny twice. However, Hermione’s optimism was waning fast as she saw Ginny’s face now contort with expressions of rage! It seemed hopeless! Ginny was going to die and it was her fault!

Finite Incantatem!

The moment she regained her voice, she said the counter curse out loud, praying it would be more effective.

“Contra Ira!”

Just then, something exploded from within the interrogation room. A few curses flew towards Didler, missing her but knocking her down to the ground. Hermione strained for a closer look and saw Harry make his way towards Ginny’s now limp figure slumped on the floor. Unfriendly spells were coming off from Didler’s wand and Harry was doing his best to dodge and repel them.

Using Ginny’s wand that was now on the floor beside them, Hermione sent the Pensieve careening towards Didler to distract her.

“How is she?” she asked Harry anxiously as he got to Ginny’s side and pulled her behind a post, propped her up against the corner for cover.

“She’s still breathing. Are you okay?” Harry replied as Didler parried the object with the Reductor spell.

He aimed a few more curses at Didler which were easily disposed of.

“I’m fine,” she was, except for the fact that she couldn’t move beyond her purple bubble.

Hermione levitated and charmed the chairs in the room, sending them to Didler. The charmed chairs were doing their annoying best to keep Didler busy, helping shield Harry and Ginny. If not for the confinement jinx, she would have summoned Ginny’s wand by now and would have been able to help Harry hex Didler; and perhaps, even take advantage of this brief window that they had to capture her. Without the wand in her hand, she could not achieve precise wand control and there were just some spells she could not use or risk using.

As Harry had not learned the curses and counter-curses yet, they were at a great disadvantage if they continued with this confrontation with Didler. The wiser decision was to get everybody out, to live and fight another day. Once Harry and Ginny were out safely, she could start working on breaking the confinement jinx. They didn’t have much time.

“Harry, you can’t Disapparate but you need to take Ginny out of here!”

“I’m not leaving without you!”

Of course not. How could she even think he would? But it was not a good time to argue.

“I can’t right now. I’m sort of stuck,” she looked him in the eye and pleaded for him to just do as she asked. Confinement jinx. I need Ginny’s wand, the bitch broke mine. I’ll cover you so you can make your way out through the door you came in.

We’ll wait!

Hermione couldn’t tell him there was a good chance she might not be able to break it.

No. There is no time. I promise you, I’ll go as soon as I figure this out. Leave now before…”

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw that Didler was now rid of the pesky charmed chairs and turned on the grey field around her, the one that Hermione saw two weeks ago. It was the shield charm from Dark Wizard heaven as Ron had christened it. Harry was still undecided.

“Harry, now!” Hermione said as she put a spell on the table, transforming it into a protected path from where Harry and Ginny were, to the exit.

But they were too late.

“Colloportus!”

Didler had sealed the door that Harry blasted into. There was no way out.

With a flick of her wand, Didler demolished the remaining furniture in the interrogation room. There was now nothing that stood between them and the villain save for the post Ginny was leaning on.

Harry’s subsequent curse merely bounced off Didler and ricocheted across the space, crossed the now broken window into the adjacent room, and barely missed Hermione, as it got through the conjured walls she was in, pulverizing a piece of the ceiling. It made sense that while she couldn’t move outside of her cell physically, there should be no problem at all hitting her with a hex while she was in it.

The dust settled. There was complete silence save for the humming sound of Didler’s grey shield and the pounding in her chest.

Harry looked over and asked her a question.

Now what?

XXXXXXXXXX

A/N. The final chapter is up next…

A/N. Here’s the last chapter, with very few minor additions to a previously posted version. Thank you all for reading and thank you to those who have expressed how much they enjoyed the story.

XXXXXXXXX

Chapter 32 – A Change of Plan

The thumping in her chest made its way up her throat and stayed there. There was nothing like being trapped in a room without an exit with a homicidal mad witch to get one’s brain working at warp speed. Hermione was literally making things up as she spoke to Harry.

Stall. Talk to her while I try to break this jinx. She’s dying for someone to listen. And we need a new plan to escape.

As Harry averted his gaze, she tried Legiventroliqy again without success. Too bad what happened at the University was a one time thing. It would have been better if they could talk without having to stare at each other.

“My dear Harry,” Didler approached him, “You have to wait your turn!”

Hermione’s heart lurched as Didler picked Harry up with a beam from her wand and flung him over her across the room against the opposite wall, making her squirm at the sound of bone on concrete. Didler attempted to revive Ginny as Harry gingerly picked himself up from the floor, his wand by his side. He winced, limping back to face Didler, putting himself between her and Ginny.

Didler waved her wand and sent Harry back off to the side, again slamming him into hard surface, batted away like an irritating fly. Harry got back on his feet, more slowly this time and with more effort.

When Hermione suggested for him to stall, this was not exactly what she had in mind. She caught his attention and he must have seen her concern.

I’m fine. It’s not as bad as it looks.

Right. Well aware that the last time Harry had been in combat was eons ago, she thought it prudent to refresh his memory, just in case he forgot.

Shield charms?

Tried that. The ones I know don’t seem to work.

Hermione could only conclude one thing. She’s weaving her minor spells with the cardinals; lacing them with her negative emotions to be more powerful.

That’s helpful to know. Any other advice?

He must mean aside from ducking out of the way. It was necessary to fight fire with fire.

We could start your lesson now.

Of course, they were both cognizant of the fact that it took Lyle a good few days to produce one and Didler a couple of months to perfect it. Harry was more realistic.

It may be too little too late. Let me try something else.

As Harry made his way back into Didler’s field of vision, Hermione concentrated, feverishly working her way through her systematic method of breaking a jinx. If she could get Ginny’s wand in her hand, she could do things a lot quicker and more effectively. For one, she might be able to help Harry defend himself. Also, she could conceivably clear space for them to Dissaparate just as she had done in the bedroom closet in her apartment.

Seeing Harry so unprotected against Didler, there was a definite need to hurry to get this done. All Hermione had to do was to take care that Didler would be oblivious to what she was about to do. That would depend a lot on how much and how intensely Harry could keep Didler engaged.

In the other room, smarting from his intimate experiences with the hardy confines of the barricaded quarters, Harry was also in a heightened mental state, thinking about how to get them out. Being on the receiving end of the dominant magic Didler was using, he figured that if they could not match that at this time, the only way out would be to give Didler what she wanted.

The only problem was that at the moment, what Didler wanted was to kill Ginny and to kill him. He would definitely not willingly give her that. But what did she really want out of all of this? He hoped she wanted something else beyond their deaths because if that was all she was after, then they needed a lot of luck to get out of the room alive.

“Hold on,” he interrupted Didler in her continued attempt to wake the unconscious red head, quite prepared to use another inferior protective spell if need be. “Before you kill us, I want to understand why you’re doing this.”

Didler regarded Harry and curiously asked him, “Aside from delaying the inevitable, why do you want to know?”

Harry answered as truthfully as he could, “If I’m going to die today I’d like to at least know what this is really about.” That and I want to know what I can give you in exchange for our lives.

“Fair enough,” Didler replied, turning away from Ginny. She threw the question right back at him, “What do you think this is about?”

Harry didn’t really expect that; he was hoping to get her to talk more.

“It seems to be about a lot of things right now, but it didn’t start out this way for you, did it?”

Didler’s emotion was unreadable; her demeanour distrusting. Harry had to start somewhere and Ron’s memory of their encounter at the warehouse seemed like a good place to begin. He just hoped Hermione would not react as negatively as she did during her first meeting with Didler.

“It’s understandable and it’s nothing to feel ashamed about. We all have our heroes and heroines growing up. You’re not alone, I mean, Hermione has done some very amazing things for magic, I admire her too,” Harry said truthfully but left out the part about Didler going overboard with it as he heard a muffled cry of frustration from Hermione and hoped that reaction escaped Didler’s attention.

He could imagine how it must have been like for Didler at Hogwarts; an impressionable young orphan, no family to call her own, finding someone to look up to and aspire to be. And at the time immediately after Voldemort’s defeat, Hermione was every young witch’s heroine. Her role in Voldemort’s fall was more legend than written, and most of it was true. He was almost sure that at one point Didler wanted to be exactly like her.

“After Hogwarts, you asked for an appointment into the Department of Mysteries,” he hoped Didler would join the conversation soon. He could only assume so much before he stumbled and fell flat on his face. “You were declined.”

“Dorner said I wasn’t good enough,” Didler finally said, “So I became an Auror instead. The books about her said at some point she wanted to be one.”

Despite the fact that Didler’s fanaticism and admiration for Hermione had gone awry, Harry did not judge her harshly for that decision. It wasn’t that uncommon, being inspired to go into a field of work by someone else.

Didler continued, “When I heard about Lumos and how I could help, I jumped at the opportunity to be involved.”

“Gomez told you about Lumos.”

“Miguel said Hermione needed my help to prove her theories,” she chuckled, “Of course, I eventually found out that wasn’t really true. Have you done the curses?”

Harry decided it best to tell her the truth. He shook his head.

“Believe me, that’s actually a good thing.”

“You mean, aside from the fact that I can’t use it on you?”

Didler laughed, almost naturally. Had their lives not been hanging on a delicate balance, he would have thought that funnier, too.

A serious Didler elucidated, “They’re horrible to conjure when you have to use your own emotion to fuel them,” then she took it back, “No, that’s not entirely true. Of notable exception, is lust, which is quite pleasant compared to the rest of them. Anger is the worst, and of the seven Cardinal sins, anger is what I have a lot of.”

Hermione did say Lyle Franks had begged off because of this. Curiously, Didler never seemed angry to him. Then he thought about himself and how enraged he was after he found out what really happened to his parents. If he had to conjure an anger curse, that was exactly the experience he would draw from.

“Your mother was murdered. You’re angry about that.”

“Voldemort killed my mother, too. I was in the closet; my Mum hid me there just before he came. He knew and he wanted me to see it all happen,” Didler said in a detached voice, as if the experience was not hers. Or maybe that was how she could live with it, her way of coping.

“He was your father.”

The absence of a denial was ripe with meaning.

“Your mother loved him,” Harry was just going on instinct, knowing that Didler’s meeker side had to come from someone. “She died to protect you from him, didn’t she?”

Didler finally answered, her tone full of guilt and remorse, “She begged him for my life and he said he would spare me only if she died in my place.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“She died because of me!”

“No, Melissa. She died because of him. He was an evil man.”

Harry could see the torment Didler was going through. Didler was crying inwardly, silently. Hermione was right. Didler did want to talk and the parallelisms between his life and hers made it easier for him to get her to converse.

Didler asked him, “Do you sometimes wish that your mother didn’t get in the way? That dying was better than living a life without her?”

“A long time ago, I did,” Harry answered honestly. “There were also times when I wished I died with her.”

“You don’t anymore?”

Drawing from his own experience, he said to her, “She wanted me to live. She loved me that much and who was I to deny her that? For a long time, hers was the only love I had known and thinking about her kept me going. Your Mum must have loved you very much to do that, too.”

Didler spoke softly, slowly, “Nowadays, when I close my eyes and try to imagine her, all I see and all I feel is her disappointment in what I’ve become.”

“You should know that she loves you anyway.”

Didler seemed to be reminiscing about something and whatever it was it made her laugh suddenly. For a moment, everything seemed almost normal.

“What’s so funny?”

“If not for the incessant fainting around you, we might have been able to talk about this back at Hogwarts. Madame Pomfrey couldn’t figure it out but I suspect it was Voldemort’s blood being revolted by the fact that I wanted to be friends with the person who killed him.”

And to think the purpose of that particular Hogwarts exercise was to find him a girlfriend. He left the thought at that.

Didler shifted their conversation, perhaps now finding it uncomfortable, “My secret is out, isn’t it? The Ministry knows.”

Harry nodded.

“It’s not too late, Melissa,” Harry recognized an opportunity. “It’s never too late to make things right. Put an end to this. Turn yourself in.”

Didler found Harry’s suggestion quite amusing.

“Do you really think I should?” she asked him, reverting back to her frosty, detached persona. “And what do you think will happen after? Do you reckon the Minister will hand out a full pardon for the poor orphan who was used by the bad powerful wizard?”

“I’ll talk to him. I’m sure they will look at the circumstances…” Harry was cut off by Didler.

The opportunity went away as quickly as it presented itself.

“Let’s ask Hermione what she thinks about that,” and they turned to Hermione, who was clearly disrupted from intense concentration.

He noticed for quite some time that Hermione had been in a cocoon of deep thought and prayed she had another plan.

“Wasn’t I clear about not wanting to hear any of this?” Hermione replied sarcastically.

That did not seem to hurt Didler.

“I’m sorry for interrupting. You’ve had sufficient time to come up with a good plan to escape. So have you?”

Harry hoped Hermione’s Occlumency prowess could withstand Didler’s Legilimency skill.

“As a matter of fact, I have, but Harry…,” she looked at him, “…unfortunately, it’s still a work in progress.” Great job stalling. You need to get as close to Ginny as possible. The less the witch notices the better.

Ginny was about five feet to his right.

“Good luck with that,” Didler replied, not concerned. “So? What do you think?”

“Oh, you actually want me to answer,” Hermione feigned surprise. “Forgive me. I wasn’t listening much to the drivel.”

This was all very personal to Hermione; she would not hold back on her reply. He spoke so Hermione would look at him, hoping to persuade her, “We were talking about putting an end to all this and asking the Ministry for leniency.” Work with me here and lie to her.

“I won’t give her false hopes, Harry,” she answered him. “We all know she’ll rot in Azkaban for the rest of her life and that won’t be justice enough for what she did.”

“You don’t know that,” Harry replied, trying to prevent the situation from getting worse. Are you trying to make her kill us sooner?

She will kill us anyway! I refuse to let her think what she did was forgivable! “I’ll make sure of it if that’s the only thing I’ll ever do for the rest of my life,” Hermione said coldly as she stared into Didler’s grey eyes and watched her expression turn from amusement to indifference.

A smirk formed on Didler’s face even as Harry said, “That may or may not happen. And even if you do spend some time in Azkaban, the important thing is that you’re sorry about what happened.”

“Look at her, Harry. She’s not sorry for the lives she ended nor the family and friends they left behind,” Hermione pointed out to him. “Don’t feel bad for her. She doesn’t deserve it.”

He just wished she would not make Didler more agitated, or at least say nothing if she couldn’t keep herself from doing that.

Didler confirmed this, “She’s right you know. Remorse was the first to go. The only thing I’m sorry about is that I am going to be exposed and that’s something I never bargained for. I was supposed to remain anonymous, that I would go back to normalcy after killing you, knowing I had outsmarted the brightest witch of our generation, that I am better than her.”

Harry picked up on that. Was this what this was about for Didler? Proving to herself that she was smarter than the brightest witch of their generation? That she was the brightest witch of their generation?

“You actually convinced yourself that you could stop?! That’s naïve,” Hermione said sardonically. “If you could, you would have done so like Lyle Franks! You would have done so when you felt horrible guilt after you killed the first Muggle! Don’t kid yourself. The ones you do today will not be your last!”

“Miguel asked for my help!”

“Did it not occur to you that you had every right to say no?! Let me think. Harry’s parents were murdered, he had as bad a childhood growing up with the Dursleys as you, but has he killed any innocent Muggles or wizards as you have? It’s a choice. You had a choice. And you chose poorly!”

Did she really have to point that out at this exact moment?

“He asked for my help!” Didler reiterated. “I couldn’t disappoint him! You don’t understand. You never have had to prove anything. All my life I have never been good enough; not for my father, not for the foster parents who took me in, not for Dorner, not for Ginny, not for you and evidently, not for Ron!”

Hermione was about to blow her top off.

“Ron? You’re the first woman he’s made a commitment to in years! How can you say you weren’t good enough for him?”

“That night he went to your apartment instead of you, he offered to die for you just so I would stop and leave you alone!” Didler told them.

“She was his best friend. Of course he would do that,” Harry defended Ron’s actions.

“I was his girlfriend! He said he loved me! How could he offer to die for someone else?”

“You revealed yourself to him,” Harry realized.

“I made him choose and his answer was very clear. All this time he loved her more than he loved me!”

Hermione said to her, “You’re delusional! Did you really expect him to support what you’re doing?”

Harry agreed. Between murderous girlfriend and the friend she was trying to frame, Ron did not have much of a choice. Love would have had nothing to do with it. As he thought this he realized he was right beside Ginny.

Hermione noticed.

“It doesn’t matter,” Didler’s tone was dangerously frigid and heartless. “Ron is sweet but I never loved him. It was all so I could get closer to you and spy on you.”

Poor Ron; used and cursed when he finally found someone to really care about.

You have three feet of clearance around Ginny. On my signal, take her out of here. And don’t splinch yourself.

“And despite your doubts, there will only be two, no more.”

What about you?

I’m working on it.

“We’ve wasted so much time already.”

She had uncertainty in her eyes. He hesitated.

It might be the only chance we get!

He did not want to leave her but he did not want to miss another opportunity to at least save Ginny’s life.

Ron’s room. If you’re not there in one minute I’m coming back for you.

Just go!

“Let’s finish this.”

Didler took a step towards Harry and Ginny when an annoying high pitched vibrating sound emanated from Hermione’s cell, drawing Didler’s attention, disbelief etched on her face!

Hermione had Ginny’s wand in her hand and the encasement she was confined in was rapidly expanding and shrinking, changing hues every second! He saw her nod. With determination to get Ginny out safely, he Disapparated with her just as the purplish bubble broke up into blobs of different colors!

In a split second, Harry staggered into Ron’s room with Ginny, startling its occupants. The rookie Auror, Flint, and a few sentries were there. Good. And Ginny was regaining consciousness. A sudden swarm of humanity and voices asking questions closed in on them.

“Stop, please!” he exclaimed as the Healers took a still very weak Ginny away. “Melissa’s the Cardinal and Hermione is still down there with her!”

“Down where?” Flint asked.

Harry told him. “Where’s Kingsley? We have to hurry!”

Flint was jumpy, “He’s putting the team together. They’re having a briefing on what we’re up against.”

Harry was frustrated. This was taking way too much time.

“Where?”

Flint was red in the face, embarrassed, “I don’t know where the briefing is. I was looking for it…”

She’ll be dead and Melissa will be gone by the time Flint could finish his babbling! He was not waiting any longer.

“Just find him and tell him!” he snapped at them and before anyone else could say anything, he Disapparated back to the interrogation room just in time to break Hermione’s fall from a considerable height by conjuring a mattress for her to land on. He helped her up.

“Thanks,” she said, seemingly disappointed to see him. She transfigured the feathers inside the cushion into a huge flock of wild geese, which bursted from its seams and blocked Didler’s path and sight. “Has it been a minute already?”

“Just about,” he answered. From his quick look at her he saw a couple of new bruises and some bleeding from a deep gash on her leg. “Are you okay?”

Hermione nodded, “It’s taking a lot longer than I thought it would. I just can’t do any direct hexes at her because of the grey force field,” then she thought of something, muttered silently and cast a prison like structure onto Didler just as the latter got rid of the geese. Didler walked through it, bending the bars out of shape. Harry arrived at the same conclusion Hermione had; it was not only impermeable, it was indestructible.

“Let’s get out of here,” he suggested.

“She re-conjured the anti-Disapparition jinx the second you left,” Hermione informed him in a hushed voice. “Quite clearly, she isn’t as fussed about someone Apparating into here compared to us Disapparating out.”

And Didler would certainly keep them occupied so as not to be able escape that way again. Their one way out was through Didler, who just noticed Harry and was taking a breather from throwing curses.

“Harry, you’ve come back to save her,” Didler said to him, mockingly, “How predictable and futile. We were actually waiting for you.”

“I did tell her we could have started without you but it seems she can only kill someone if she has an audience,” Hermione said to him, trying her best to insult Didler.

What are you talking about?

Just wait. She’ll tell you herself.

He didn’t like the bittersweet look she was giving him.

“Is it too much to want history written right? It’s my last two murders. I can’t leave it to the Aurors to piece together what happens here on their own. Harry will be a reliable witness,” Didler expounded, then she addressed Harry matter-of-factly, “A slight change in plan. As I said, I never wanted for anyone to know that I did all this. I can’t go to Azkaban and I have no desire to hide for the rest of my life. The second murder tonight will be my last one and it will be my own.”

“At least that’s what she keeps telling me,” came a skeptical Hermione side-comment.

He knew what it meant. If he was the witness who was tasked to report on what was about to happen and there were only three of them in the room, it was not hard to guess who the other murder victim was going to be. Hermione was seemingly avoiding his gaze.

In contrast, Didler was chatty, “I had to improvise when you and Ginny left, and it’s actually a better plan. Hermione even agrees that it is. Don’t you think it fitting if the creator and the executor each died from one of the two remaining Cardinal curses to wrap it all up? A grand finale of sorts; to end it with a bang. ”

“No!” Harry said to Didler as he stepped in front of Hermione, providing a physical shield which was more symbolic than functional.

Hermione put a hand on his shoulder as she tried to calm him down, “It’s okay, Harry. It is better this way.”

“Don’t think for a moment that I’m going to sit back, watch you do this and not do anything!”

Didler was enjoying it all and not hiding her pleasure one bit, taking every opportunity to mock Hermione, “Aw, that is so touching. He loves you. I can see why you would prefer him over Ron. And I understand why you could not fall in love with Ritchie. Tell me something. I’m curious. Were you just using Ritchie to fill your sexual needs? Was it Harry’s face on him each time he fucked you? And last night, between him and Harry, could you tell the difference who was inside you? Who’s better? Or do you need more time with Harry to make a fair assessment?”

Harry could sense Hermione struggling not to dignify that with a caustic retort.

“Fine. I guess you don’t feel like having a little girl talk right now. Well, Harry, if you get in the way, I’ll just have to restrain you.”

There was the familiar familial glint of excitement in Didler’s eyes that Harry had seen way too many times.

“You should just stop this!” Harry was infuriated at his helplessness in what was about to transpire.

Hermione said to him, “She can’t stop. She has to do the seven and she needs two more. The question is will she follow through and do the last one or will she change her mind again.”

This can’t be happening! He had to talk to Hermione, to come up with a plan, but she had not broken eye contact with Didler!

“You’re just going to have to trust me on that,” Didler answered Hermione’s challenge.

“Maybe it’s just me, but I’m having a really difficult time trusting a murderer.”

Harry concentrated hard. Stop talking crazy and look at me!

“Let him leave,” Hermione said to Didler as she finally looked at him. I’m not going down without a fight but the odds are kind of stacked up against me. I want to say goodbye, just in case.

I’m not saying goodbye! Just tell me what the plan is!

“You don’t need him. Leave a memory of whatever it is that you want remembered. Your version,” she said to Didler as she conjured a phial, levitating it gently onto the floor right beside Didler. This is the plan.

“I’m staying!” he said defiantly. They were openly looking at each other, not caring about what Didler would think. What do you mean this is the plan? This can’t be the plan!

“Hermione is right, Harry, there is no point, unless you want to watch her die,” she taunted.

I would prefer you weren’t here to see that happen if it did.

“No one has to die!” he answered back, knowing it was just a pipe-dream trying to convince Didler not to complete the seven. Let’s talk about this rationally!

Didler spoke with finality on the matter, “There are seven curses, I need two more.”

I started this. I can end this. Let me end this.

Not like this! “You’ll get your two, just not today. Give us more time to make it a fair fight! Give me time to learn the curses!” Help me convince her!

She has no time.

Didler laughed, “I’m sorry Harry, it has to be today. As I said, I have no wish to be a fugitive. At least this way I can prove to everyone that I am a better witch than she is.”

She was really hung up on others thinking she was not good enough and she had it in her mind that by completing the curses, the people who thought she was lame could eat their words. This was about proving she was better than everybody thought she was.

We can come up with something! You always come up with something!!

“So Harry, are you leaving or staying?” Didler asked him as Hermione seemed bent on doing this on her own.

I’ll always love you. If…when I go, I expect you to know better than mope around.

You’re not going anywhere!

Last night, this morning was amazing. I’ve never been happier.

Don’t do this by yourself!

I don’t have a choice.

Yes, you do! We can do this together!

She’ll kill you, too. I’d rather not have that on my conscience.

We’ve been through this countless times. I am not going to watch you die!

Then leave. If you don’t, she will make you.

“I’m staying!”

“Don’t you think that is just so sweet?” Didler said to Hermione sarcastically. “You should see what I’m seeing right now. You two, looking at each other like this, I can never imagine anyone looking at me like that. It makes me more envious; good men wanting to be with you, friends who believe in you, a wizarding world awed by your amazing gift. You take it for granted that you have everything.”

“It’s sad though, actually tragic, that you won’t get the chance to grow old with Harry as you hoped. And Harry will have to live with the guilt of not being able to save you. He could have learned the curses by now if not for last night.”

Hermione merely shook her head, motioning him not bite the bait and ask the question

But Didler did not need to be asked as she continued, “Surely, had you spent more time learning the curses last night rather than shagging each other senseless to the point of exhaustion, things would be quite different right now.”

Don’t let her ruin such a beautiful memory, Harry.

It was too late. Didler had a point. If only he had learned the curses.

Hermione continued, I’m sure it would have been wonderful growing old with you.

We’re going to grow old together or not grow old at all.

He didn’t know how else to tell her this was not debatable.

“Harry, can you make sure that’s in your memoirs? Say something about how fate has been cruel to you, finally finding love only to have that quashed by Voldemort’s daughter. Historians love that stuff. You can’t make that up,” Didler suggested and then finally sighed. “Well, folks, all this has been fun but we should really get this over with. Ministry procedure warrants a team briefing and a definite plan of action. So, I’m guessing the Aurors will be coming soon.”

Not soon enough. Harry wondered how long Didler could sustain that shield of hers because with it on, they did not stand a chance. He would do anything to get a curse past the grey mist.

Right beside Harry, Hermione was thinking the very same thing. Despite her telling Harry what she needed to just in case things didn’t go her way, she was determined to find a way to defeat Didler. She had been scanning through her knowledge of shield charms, the theory of their creation and how to break them down. She had already tried every trick in the book but she suspected that there was a component in Didler’s shield that wasn’t in any reference. It would not surprise Hermione if Didler conjured it with a Cardinal curse.

Unfortunately, she was not able to leave when Harry and Ginny did, as she did not have enough time to create a second area to Disapparate. She wasn’t even certain she could completely break the containment jinx, as it had taken her forever to create a hole into it large enough to get Ginny’s wand through. And when she did break it, Didler had realized what had happened and closed off her exit.

What occurred next was really forgettable. Didler basically toyed with her, punishing her physically, so she wouldn’t be able to hatch another plan to escape, killing time, while waiting for Harry’s return. She had hoped he wouldn’t or wouldn’t be able to, but she knew that would just be wishful thinking.

In the brief moment that they were on their own, Didler had come up with the idea to kill her instead. Really, Hermione thought better her than someone else. She had every intention to take matters into her own hands, to control destiny, to end this and not leave it up to Didler to keep a likely empty promise to kill herself.

The one positive thing about the cursing she and Ginny had received from Didler that afternoon was that it now gave her an idea of how to get through the grey shield. She would have at least one chance, possibly just one if she could not block the curse intended for her, and maybe a second or two to do something that she was certain had never been done before. Well, given the circumstances, she was sure the Ministry would be lenient if she were to experiment with something new without following usual protocol. She hoped Ginny’s wand was up to the challenge.

Didler was now doing a monologue of what she was about to do. Hermione reckoned it would be a good idea to listen. It was odd that all she could think about at this time was why did villains do that? Why did they share their devious plan and spoil the surprise? She guessed she should just be thankful.

“There are two curses left. I get to choose because I have the power around here,” Didler was giddy with excitement about this.

“I’ll be lust. I do have a few choice dreams about me and Harry that would be perfect for the occasion,” Hermione shuddered involuntarily at the thought of Didler with Harry. “Don’t be surprised. We do have that in common. I’ve fancied him since Hogwarts and imagined myself in your place; all those adventures together, falling in love with him, writing those notes to him, wallowing in pain after he left. Had we had more time I probably would have done something to make some of those lustful dreams became reality. But who am I kidding? He probably will suck because he’s so in love with you. Love potions are so pedestrian and Imperusing men in bed is just no fun. I’ll stick to my dreams.”

Her best idea today, so far. Keep your evil hands off him.

“And you’ll have to be anger, I’m sure you hate me enough to have a lot of that. It’s rather unpleasant. The Muggles I did it on soiled themselves, just to forewarn you.”

Hermione pondered the Cardinal curse she was going to be up against. Anger...great! Aside from the perseverance she had with her work, she was the least patient person she had ever known in her life. The only thing she could remember being patient about was waiting for Harry to come back and she knew only too well she didn’t even have enough patience for that.

“Well, I’m ready. Are you?”

Didler looked at her expectantly. Did she really want her to answer? She had Ginny’s wand in hand and was as ready as she could ever be. She could not get herself to look at Harry.

“No answer? I guess you are. So, Harry,” Didler was not quite ready after all, “Do I need to disarm you or can I trust you not to interfere?”

From Harry’s last words it was quite clear he would not stand by and just watch.

“I’m fighting with her,” Harry declared, raising his wand up beside her.

Of course Hermione could jinx him again to get him out of harm’s way but that would not be necessary. She was sure Didler would do the same thing anyway.

“Harry,” Didler said in a condescending manner, “I don’t want to hurt you, not anymore. I’m asking nicely. Please step out of the way. Let somebody else be hero.”

That word. Why did Didler have to say that word?!

Hermione sensed the idea come to Harry the moment Didler mentioned ‘hero’ even before he put his wand down and turned to talk to her in private.

“Melissa, I have a proposition for you.”

I think she’ll go for it.

“Don’t even think it!” Hermione said out loud.

Why not?

It’s not a good plan!

Any plan is better than yours.

You promised! You promised not to get yourself killed!

And I’ll do my best not to. I can’t feel this way about you and not try to save your life.

“I can’t imagine what you could say that would interest me,” Didler answered. “I have made up my mind. There will be two more.”

“Or maybe more,” Harry said to Didler, and had her attention, “I hate to tell you this but your assumption is flawed. People are not going to think you’re better than her. If you do it your way, she will still be thought of as the greatest witch of our generation, probably even become more famous dead. And you, you’ll just be thought of as Voldemort’s daughter who could kill because of an unfair advantage. You’ll be a mere footnote in history. Don’t you want to prove that you’re better than what others think you are? Don’t you really want to prove that you’re better than her?”

“Stop it, Harry. When she kills me, she is better than me,” Hermione knew she was going to regret telling him about this.

“Will you be really?” Harry asked Didler, “How challenging is it to kill someone who can’t do the dark magic that you do? Historians will see that; any idiot will. You may kill her but you’ll be no better than the bully that Voldemort was.”

Didler was listening attentively, looking from Harry to Hermione as she asked, “What are you saying, Harry?”

“You can prove you are better only if she can do the same curses you do.”

“You want to die for her so she can be enabled,” Didler was not dumb.

“I do,” Harry looked at Hermione as she sulked. Those two words certainly would now carry a whole different meaning for her. Hey, brighten up. We get a chance to test your third counter-curse.

Brighten up? Had she not been clear enough? It was not a real theory! There was absolutely no proof it could work! Was this the best he could do to not get himself killed?

“It doesn’t work that way,” Hermione interrupted. “You don’t know for sure that you can enable me!” And you don’t know for sure that you can disable her!

At least one of those happening would be enough. Both would be good. “It’s worth a try. What does she have to lose?”

“There’s nothing to gain by having her take another life!” Do you realize that you have to be dead for either to happen?!

“Guys, stop bickering. At least one of you is about to die…” Didler was laughing in the background and they took the opportunity that she was distracted.

Face it Hermione. Do you trust her to kill herself when she’s done with you? What makes you think she’s not going to kill me anyway, continue her rampage and become bigger than Voldemort was? It’s either disable her or fight her on the same playing field. I can’t do the latter, not today. But you created them, and you learn spells quicker than anyone else. You have the best chance to end this, but only if you can fight her fire with fire.

“You really shouldn’t be fighting, not when you are on the brink of a tragedy of enormous magnitude…”

She’s my problem. It is not fair for you…

Are you saying that it wasn’t fair for you to risk your life when her father wanted to kill me? You didn’t leave my side to fight him on my own. Don’t expect me to abandon you now. We’re in this together.

“…you should be crying and kissing, saying goodbye, you know the romantic stuff…”

Harry, this is different!

No, it’s not!

She’s going to kill you!!

“It’s just odd, the both of you, arguing over who gets to die first…”

Not if I can help it. Unless you have a better plan or break her shield, I’m going with this. You know I’m right. And she’s right. Let’s not argue. If she goes for this, I’m not going away easily. Just tell me how you would do it!

There was no dissuading Harry from going through with this if Didler would allow it. Fine. They were in this together. While the decision was really up to the witch, she had to tell him as briefly as she could how she was planning to defeat Didler, because either way the knowledge would help. Didler’s amusement was fading away, fast.

You need to get a spell through her shield.

“So, Harry, do tell me more about how you think this should go down.”

Um, we can’t. We’ve tried that. “We all know she doesn’t have a chance against you unless you play fair. I’m sure my dying for her will enable her. You need two to complete your seven. I’ll be number six and either you or her will be the seventh. And if she becomes the seventh, what you do after is your business. Neither of us would be around to care anymore.”

Didler was silently considering his proposal and they had a window of opportunity to talk about what to do.

We haven’t tried it at the exact moment we should. Her shield has a theoretical weak point every time she throws a spell.

Harry knew what she meant.

At the point where it exits. But how can I tell when that exact moment is and where exactly that point is on the shield? She’s been hexing me and so far I have not seen it come through.

A Cardinal curse packs a lot more energy than other spells. If it’s a cardinal, you will see it come through. The green flash of light in your dream is the spell beam and for the cardinals, it’s at least ten times as big and lasts at least twice as long compared to ones documented. The size and duration depends on witch skill and wand properties.

Didler was almost done thinking, “I admit, it’s a very interesting proposition.”

“It’s the only way to prove that you are better than her.” Hermione, skip the details. Tell me what I need to know.

I’ve noticed that her Cardinal curse beam is at least a two second stream and roughly an inch in diameter. It will exit the shield close to where her wand tip is. Best to go into the shield at an angle from the side of the beam because splicing through it directly will be difficult, if not impossible.

So tell me if I got it right. We need to get a spell in through the point where her curse exits the shield, an opening roughly the size of a Muggle quarter, within a two second time frame, at the same time displacing her curse and before she hits us with one.

Yes. I guess I should mention that it’s close to impossible to do and a mere theory so the assumption about the shield weakness may not be true at all.

Thanks.

Meanwhile, Didler was assessing, yet again, another alternative. Why can’t she just make up her mind!

“You can be lust and we can be anger…but the risk…she could survive…”

Then Harry said something that sealed the deal, “Have a little decency and be fair. Even if you can’t prove that you are better than her, at least prove to yourself, prove to your Mum, that you are better than the ordinary murderer that your father was.”

At the mention of the comparison, Hermione could see Didler’s expression cloud with anger and hate. It was a foregone conclusion what Didler was going to do. Right about now, she was feeling the same thing that Harry felt a moment ago. She would not be able to watch and not do anything.

The shield. She had one other idea to break the shield or at least render it neutral. If they couldn’t shoot a spell into it without Didler sending a Cardinal curse out, they certainly could conjure one from within it. If she knew what Didler’s wand was and could wield it, this could work.

The wand had to be Ollivanders’. She was scanning for all possible combinations of wood and core that Ollivander could have used and for each tried conjuring a spell off the wand in Didler’s hand. Tedious but…

Without warning, a sudden burst of energy blew her across the room to a corner and was trapped in the same purplish cell she was earlier! If she ever survived today she would hate that color for the rest of her life!

Ginny’s wand had been knocked off her hand by the sheer force of the hex. Just as she got up she saw Harry dodge a Cardinal curse and try what she had told him. However, his timing was off and his curse bounced off the shield, finding the room lights, sending them into total darkness.

Didler must have missed totally as she heard a piece of the ceiling above her crumble. Pressing her face against the walls for a better look, all she could see was an outline of Didler’s humming grey field.

Frantic to help, she scanned for Ginny’s wand and found it in the area where she and Harry had stood. A summoning charm got it as far as the purplish walls of her cell would allow it and she tried bursting the bubble again. She couldn’t, not without the wand in her hand and it would take some time to do that.

Another green flash of light filled the room and briefly illuminated the confined space, revealing the combatants almost within arms reach. Harry’s quick reflex made Didler miss again, and his counter missed his minute target too, as she heard both curses impact somewhere else. She didn’t expect it to be easy.

“You can’t hide forever, Harry,” Didler taunted as she lit her wand.

Harry was a few feet in front of Didler, to Hermione’s right, wand ready, waiting, concentrating. There was definitely no time to get Ginny’s wand in her hand. As she looked over to Didler on her opposite side, she saw on the left arm an unmistakable stain, a skull and a snake, as intense and as alive as she had ever seen one before. It was Voldemort’s dark mark, explaining the fate of the piece of flesh carved out from Professor Snape. She could only think that despite the hate, Didler mostly needed her father to accept her as a daughter. Didler desperately wanted her father’s love.

The wand! Voldemort’s?

Yew and phoenix feather core! Yew and phoenix feather core!

“What!” Didler gasped, surprised.

Hermione felt a rush of triumph as the room fell into darkness again! It was Voldemort’s missing wand and she had successfully turned off its light from where she was!

As she was about to stop the grey shield from working, she heard Didler’s chilling voice utter a spell she regretted ever creating.

“Utile Luste!”

“Contra Luste!”

Harry countered and from where she was she saw two beams collide and connect at a point exactly midway between them, the green from Didler’s and the blue from Harry’s, neither moving in either direction, a stalemate, the sheer brightness illuminated every crevice in the room. From the moment the jets connected her subsequent attempts to manipulate Voldemort’s wand were unsuccessful.

A thin cloud of haze now surrounded both Didler and Harry. Priori Incantatem. The feather core used in both wands came from the same phoenix. Harry was on his own. All she could do was sit tight in the confines of her purple cell.

And as she waited she felt Harry’s emerald eyes on her. He was smiling, comforting as he gave her a reassuring wink. Her thoughts were suddenly filled with memories of their past together; their first meeting on the train, her rescue from the troll, protecting the Philosopher’s stone, the first time she hugged him, her petrified image in the Hogwarts hospital wing, saving her and Sirius from the Dementors, her unquestioning support and loyalty during the Triwizard tournament, protecting her from the centaurs in the Forbidden Forest and from the Death Eaters in the battle in the Department of Mysteries, her warnings about the Half Blood Prince, their search for the Horcruxes, Voldemort’s defeat, their unexpected tryst at Madame Puddifoot’s, their first kiss on graduation day, the first night they spent as a couple, the days that followed as they rekindled their friendship and finding out about her true feelings for him not a few hours ago.

All were memories from Harry’s point of view and with each came overwhelming emotions of bliss and contentment, an unbreakable bond they would share forever, his undying love, needing nothing else but her acceptance that he would do anything for her because of it.

It was then that Harry’s blue wand beam pierced through and split Didler’s green at its center! It crept closer to Didler, penetrating her grey shield exactly where the green jet exited, and at the same time, Didler’s now hollow beam enveloped Harry’s and moved in the opposite direction towards him! As both beams reached their intended targets at the same time, an explosion coming from their fusion rocked the entire building, knocking all three of them away from the blast!

A few seconds elapsed before the light from Ginny’s wand showed that the haze in the room cleared. The confinement jinx had snapped and it appeared that the grey shield had dissolved. The deafening silence that filled the space was broken as Hermione picked herself up, a dread washing over her as she noticed that everything around her was still.

Quickly, she went over to Harry’s unmoving crumpled figure and turned him over to face her. His eyes were closed and on his mouth was the reassuring smile he had as he showed her his memories. She could not tell if he was breathing.

“Don’t you dare die on me, Harry! Not now! Don’t you dare die on me!” she sobbed as she tried to wake him up.

He was not dead! He couldn’t be! She had to do something!

Summoning Ginny’s wand into her hand and thinking only about her love for him, she conjured the healing spell that she had done for Ron a few times before. An orange beam encased Harry and lifted him up in the air, only this time, it was one of blinding intensity, with a vividness and richness she had not conjured before. The brilliance forced her to shut her eyes and she tried hard to remember him as he remembered her.

The spell waned and set Harry back down on the floor. Hermione could feel he was just as lifeless as he was before. Disappointed and distressed, she tried again but as she did, her subsequent ones fizzled out into a thin spray of orange mist. After numerous failed attempts of which she lost count, she knew it wasn’t working. She knew it wasn’t going to work. It was a healing spell and no magic could bring one back to life.

“Harry…” she embraced his limp body as she cried, “I’m so sorry…I’m so sorry…”

“Is he really dead?”

Hermione did not notice that Didler got up and was now standing behind her.

“Did I really kill the great Harry Potter?” A derisive laughter came from within Didler and it was not much different from Voldemort’s.

Exhausted, she still had to end what she started. She put Harry down gently and decided it appropriate to use his wand to do what she had to do. Didler was still laughing as Hermione stared her down with uncontrollable rage, on the verge of a major outburst.

“Can you believe that? Me, killing Harry Potter! People will talk about that for…”

“Shut up!”

Didler just smirked at her, “You might want to hide a bit of your emotion. That really could kill you.”

She didn’t care. “Just shut up and fight. By the way, unless you kill me, you won’t have seven because I will not be using the anger curse on you.”

Almost at the same time, both witches cursed each other. Didler using Hermione’s anger; Hermione using Didler’s envy.

“Utile Ira!”

“Utile Invidia!”

An eerie stillness followed, neither wands did what they were supposed to do. Not one flicker of green light escaped either.

“Utile Ira!”

Didler said again, and still, nothing happened. A sadness filled Hermione’s heart. It could only mean that Harry had proven her impractical third counter curse theory true. Harry’s act did not enable her, but it disabled Didler.

Didler had panic, incredulity in her eyes.

“Avada Kedavra!”

“Protego!”

Surprisingly, no killing curse came to shield herself from either. Didler tried other offensive hexes against her but to no avail. Didler could not do magic, at least at that moment.

At any other time Hermione might have felt a sense of victory over this, but without Harry she couldn’t care less. It was a hollow conquest; the battle was won but the war was lost.

Feeling numb all over, she summoned Voldemort’s wand from a still confused Didler. As her fingers wrapped around the piece of yew, she felt a pulsating heat shoot up her arm, and without thinking, pointed Voldemort’s wand at his unwanted daughter’s heart.

Seeing this, Didler expressed amusement. She wasn’t disturbed.

“It feels different, doesn’t it?”

Hermione knew what she meant. The anger that she felt for the witch that was before her was eating her up inside, egging her, begging her for some release.

“It has known evil, it craves evil, it wants you to do something evil…” Didler smirked at her. “It won’t stop until you do.”

Kill her! Kill her!

Hermione wanted to, but it was wrong to murder.

“Is it telling you to kill me?”

She killed Harry! She deserves death!

Hermione could not agree more. Her hand that was holding Voldemort’s wand was shaking.

“Don’t fight it. Just do both of us a favour and do as it says.”

Avenge his death and make the pain go away.

Hermione could not envision how this feeling would ever go away. She had lived through losing him once before and the finality of never seeing him again this time was unimaginably unbearable.

“I beg you, Hermione. I cannot go to Azkaban. Kill me, please.”

Avenge his death and make it better. You won’t regret it.

“Avada Ke…”

Her voice trailed off. She wanted to but she couldn’t. She just couldn’t.

Amid Didler’s protesting screams, Hermione made sure Didler was not armed and put her in a body bind jinx just as the now unsealed door to the interrogation room opened. Kingsley, Tonks and other familiar faces went into the room. Everything around her was in slow motion. It was surreal.

One of the first to come in was Ritchie and as she met his gaze he must have seen it in her eyes. He was beside her in an instant and she wept, burying her face in his chest. She couldn’t get herself to look at anyone else, or talk to anyone else. She could just stay where she was and slowly die.

Fate could not be more cruel. It was fickle-minded, letting her know affection she had never known before then talking it away twice in her lifetime. With the finality of his death it served her a sentence to live the rest of her life knowing it was her curse that took the life of the man she would always love.

Then she felt Ritchie tense up and they were interrupted by an unexpected voice.

“I know I asked you to do this but I’m not quite dead yet. May I?”

Harry!? Hope that she heard right and dread that she had gone absolutely mad surged through her as she stepped away from Ritchie’s embrace and turned towards where his voice came from.

It was Harry! Harry with the raven black untamed hair, the bright green eyes that now bathed her with open warmth and fondness, the same smile on his face that she would always remember him with, looking back at her, and taking her from Ritchie as the latter muttered an affirmation of his request.

Overwhelmed with a joyous emotion, she ran to him, almost toppled him over and gave him one of the tightest embraces she had ever given anyone. Harry returned it in kind.

Satisfied, she pulled away and scolded him, “Don’t you ever do that again!”

“What?” he asked poker-faced, as if he didn’t know what she was talking about.

She couldn’t believe he was teasing her at a time like this.

“Save my life like that!”

He chuckled, “Only if you promise not to get yourself in such trouble ever again.”

They were definitely not finished with that conversation.

“But how? Why?”

The questions just came streaming from her brain directly out her mouth. Harry shushed her.

“No. Not now. Just kiss me and make me believe all this is real.”

With nary a thought, she obliged, ignoring the whistles and teasing from the now packed interrogation room.

As they paused for some needed air, he said to her with a grin, “I’m surprised. You’re breaking your one rule about kissing and it doesn’t seem to bother you.”

She smiled back, “And why would that be a surprise? I’m with Harry Potter and he never follows rules. I figure I have to live with such reckless abandon forever.”

And to prove that she didn’t mind, Hermione kissed Harry more provocatively just before they Disapparated to a more private place, to begin doing what he said they would do; spend the rest of their lives together.

XXXXXXXXX

A/N. The previous posted version of the story has an Epilogue solely about Ron and I had feedback about how that seemed unnecessary. At the conclusion of writing this earlier this year I wanted to leave it quite open just in case I had a burning desire to write a sequel. As that seems to have fizzled, I am toying with the idea of writing another Epilogue, one about Harry and Hermione. Let me know if you would like something like that or prefer to just leave this as is.