Chapter 44 - The Night Ahead
Harry woke up to the buzz of an alarm clock and hit the snooze button. It was six p.m., some four hours after he finally lumbered into his own bed. Muller had sent him home to get some much needed rest and even his mind could not resist; assured Hermione would be safe at the Ministry, it blacked out the second his head hit the pillow and fell into a restful dreamless sleep.
Earlier, he objected vehemently to the plan to make Hermione bait knowing that once Jack and Kingsley asked her she would not say 'no'. Andy was even open to his suggestion of her being a Polyjuiced clone but that was quickly shot down by the Auror Heads. Admittedly, they were right. Floyd's need likely had something to do with Hermione's skill, either in healing or potion-making. Floyd would not kill Hermione but would not hesitate to eliminate a Polyjuiced substitute, a ruse he would be expecting and could quite easily and quickly determine.
In the end Harry realized it was mere common courtesy that Kingsley and Jack told him before they asked Hermione. He tried to talk some sense into her on the off chance that she would take his advice. Not only did she not heed it, she did not even solicit it. She asked Kingsley instead; Kingsley, who continuously pushed the limits of civilian safety in pursuit of justice. She trusted Kingsley more than she trusted him. It offended and irritated him that she did not even consider how he felt about this.
He could only watch as she accepted their proposal and negotiated to wipe the record of insubordination from his already tainted Ministry record. That riled him even more. She always did that. She always presumed that he would not mind her doing him favors and she never asked. And she always thought of what was best for him; at least what she thought was best.
It galled him that Hermione always took care of him and yet she would not allow him to take care of her. He was growing tired of this one way street, where she could choose to and be able to and he couldn't even though he wanted to. Why wouldn't she let him?
Harry had plenty of excuses to act crazy but fuelled by this particular frustration, he told her off. It hurt him to say it but he meant every word of it. The thought formed in his mind and out his mouth so quickly, he did not have time to smoothen out its gruffness. He remembered what he said.
"You don't want my opinion; fine. You want to go ahead and do this; fine. But keep me and my Ministry record out of it. I don't want your charity, especially not one I'm bound to end up feeling guilty about."
Or something like that. It was too late when he realized that although he wanted to say that to her it wasn't exactly what he wanted her to hear. It was true, though. If something bad happened to her, his expunged record would yet be another reminder of how he owed her so many things about the life he was living and how stupid he was for recognizing too late just how important she was in it. He stormed out of the room before anybody could say anything else. He had to because he would have only carried on and added to the pain he saw in her eyes after he said what he did. At least he was able to grit his teeth and keep his voice to a level that only she and Jack could hear; he tried to anyway.
Harry stayed clear of Hermione as she remained in the interrogation room which was going to be set up as their Command Centre. Last he saw her just before he left she was immersed reading a mound of files relating to the case. His staying away wasn't so much because of what she said and did but more because he wanted to give her space, for her to find out about the past without his interference. Anxious about how all this would affect them, he did manage to get some reading done in the hour or so he spent at his desk, although he had not made a dent into the thick pile that was on her list of required Bruin reading.
He started with Ginny's Prophet articles. She wrote of the legend of the magic enabling potion as an offshoot of her series on Helga Hufflepuff's unconfirmed prophesies. He read how there were so many versions of the myth, it was really difficult to know which one or ones to believe. Ginny's explanation of the limitless iterations was that they were part of the family's propaganda to prevent the truth from surfacing.
There was one other thing; Ginny, or anyone writing about the Bruins, could not name names. Apparently, Sophie Bruin's family was well connected that years ago, they had successfully argued in court that the centuries old rumours of the existence of the potion and the alleged prophecy attached to it was causing significant distress amongst her descendants. It was made illegal internationally to publish actual names of family members, true or suspected, including the mention of the name Sophie Bruin, in connection with the prophecy or any magic enabling potion without a valid magical or written consent. Harry thought it insanely annoying that the Ministry Legal Department had to be brought in to tell them how to investigate and document the involvement of the Bruins without calling them the Bruins because of the association of the case with a magic enabling potion.
It was by default that he would be part of her core of Auror bodyguards. Jack assigned Andy to lead that team, a decision both women were not really happy about. Andy was quite pissed, certain that the dubious designation of 'Head Nanny' was punishment for wrecking his car. She tried to get out of it, telling Jack how Hermione had boasted that she did not need a babysitter and could take care of herself. Jack didn't bite. Two other senior Aurors were assigned to Hermione's protection team, Leo Fairweather and Holly Kettlenip, and Kingsley pledged to send three Britons to help out over the next five days.
Getting out of bed after the alarm went off the second time, he saw the small leather bound book on his side table beside the clock. He picked it up and flipped through the pages he had already gone through once, finding it interesting that a Muggle children's book, The Story of the Magic Pill, was on Hermione's list of possible Bruin related books. He was skimming through and picked it up because it was the thinnest and least intimidating book in the bunch. He recognized the obvious connection and how so unusually negative the story was it couldn't have possibly been intended for Muggle children. Andy was right; some of these Bruins were mental.
Harry tossed it amongst the stuff he usually took with him to work and it landed right beside a copy of the now almost day old Daily Prophet. He tried not to dwell on the article on its Socials section, which he seemed to have recently developed a compulsion to read. She did mention she preferred to be in Mexico, 'dancing and drinking tequila all night'. Had he remembered that maybe he would have been more prepared to read who she was going with. It was too late to stop it; the lump and ache came.
As he showered, got dressed and Apparated to the Ministry, he forced himself to think more about the Bruins, the potion and Floyd. He thought about last year, about Lestrange covering up what happened at the Ghoul and burying the potion. He thought about the potion being brewed in London and Lestrange on the brink of retirement about to hand off to a yet unknown Potion Master. This successor seemed to be the natural Floyd connection but short of asking Lestrange, how could they know without a doubt that Lestrange's Potion Master was the same potion maker who was reproducing the purple potion?
And now Lestrange was trying to keep the potion bottled up in London. If Floyd was working for her that did not make sense because the Squib seemed not fussed about parading the potion in public? Was she the bitch of a witch from across the Atlantic that Klys referred to who had bankrolled the Waxball-Floyd operation and was the no show that post Valentine's day massacre at the Ghoul? If she was, then who was that woman with Floyd in London who help abduct him as he was disguised as Hunt?
He got to the Auror office and went straight to his desk, finding Andy at hers and about to leave for the day.
"It's about time you got here," Andy said. "Feeling better?"
She heard about his outburst, likely from Jack.
"I'm fine."
"Liar," she replied, knowing him too well. She wavered a bit, then decided to say what was on her mind, "What she tried to do was a good thing. Even I can see that."
"Yeah," he replied, clenching his jaw.
When he didn't say anymore she shifted their conversation.
"Your buddies from London are not coming until the morning. It'll be you, Holly and Leo tonight. And Jack has someone else doing call for us."
"Anything new?"
"Floyd is still underground. We've checked known associates and hide-outs, nothing so far and, as you expected, he would be too smart to seek detectable medical attention. Hermione went to see Jane Doe earlier, talked with her Healers and suggested a few counter potions. We already went over security details with her. The international ban for testing the purple potion has just been lifted and she's scheduled to help the Unspeakables confirm ingredients tomorrow morning."
She handed him a copy of Hermione's Auror Office approved itinerary for the next few days. He browsed through it quickly.
"The first real test will be tomorrow afternoon when she attends some pre-conference sessions," Andy continued.
Then there was the Tilden Toots talk the following day and her talk the day after. In between and all through out the schedule was full, but not as jam packed as he knew Hermione would have preferred.
"She's seen this?"
"No, I knew exactly which boring sessions she wanted to waste her time on," Andy replied sarcastically. The day had been very long for them both and he had to save his energy for what he had planned for what was left of it, "Of course, she's seen it and has signed off on it, every friggin' detail it drove me nuts. She's a control freak."
"I'm taking her to see Ron tonight."
It wasn't a request. Harry had been thinking when he would be able to do that since she came that morning. He still didn't know how to break the news of Ron's ghostly existence to her, still hoping he could find a way for Ron to do it himself. After a contemplative pause, Andy responded.
"I guess tonight would be the best time to do something 'fun' like that," Andy scribbled on her copy of the schedule, "Extraordinary or not I don't think anyone can recover that quickly from the injuries he sustained earlier. I doubt Floyd will try anything in the next day or so."
"Keep it off her official sched. I don't want anyone else there."
Andy gave him a look of disapproval before begrudgingly magically erased what she had just written down.
Harry suggested, "I would send Leo and Holly home. I agree, Floyd won't try anything tonight. You'll need fresh Aurors over the next few days."
She knew he was right but was not totally convinced having Hermione without the two extra guards was a good idea. She had this querying look, wondering if his suggestion was clouded by emotions he shouldn't have had Hermione been some other protectee.
"I'll make the changes," she finally consented and backed off, sensing he was in no mood for personal questions. "By the way, my Detroit contact pulled through. I didn't have the time to read what's in it but I figure you might tonight. Your desk, bottom right drawer."
"Thanks," he said plainly, feeling a lot less enthusiasm than he thought he would.
"There's definitely something wrong with you," Andy frowned.
"Where is she?"
"Command Centre, helping Leo and Holly organize what we and London have," she took her copies of the Bruin information, stuffed it in a duffel and made for the short corridor that lead to the room. "Are you coming?"
He told her to go ahead as he pulled the new Malfoy information that she had left in his bottom right drawer, opened the file and quickly skimmed through the inch thick binder. It was a list and summary of all the cases he had ever been involved with from the time he was a student at Ann Arbor up until he left for London a few months ago. He read the first few and found nothing interesting.
The more he read the more stupid he felt. He tried to remind himself what was he looking for and why was he looking for it? Shouldn't he be using the time to try and find Floyd or at least figure out who the Purple Potion Master and the Mystery Witch were?
The events of one day seemed to have quickly changed his priorities, at least he hoped that was it. Somewhere lurking in the back of his head was a thought that just as it was useless to sway her decision about participating in the Floyd case, he would be unable to dissuade her from continuing to go out with the ferret. The fact that she had planned to go to Mexico with Malfoy underscored the seriousness of their relationship. He had known Hermione for a long time; she always thought things through. She would have checked and looked into what Malfoy had been up to, finding nothing either. He probably should consider the possibility that the git was indeed a changed man. Harry couldn't agree more with the next thought that came to mind.
When hell freezes over.
Considering how little his opinion was valued, he was unlikely to share that with her again any time soon. But Hermione's words were just now sinking in. She said Malfoy apologized and she forgave him. Unimaginable as it was, she really did. Harry wondered what Malfoy's act of penance was that was so convincing of his remorse that made her a believer. There had to be at least one very good one but as hard as he tried to think about what that could have been, short of his answer to her about Malfoy selflessly dying for someone else which he obviously had not done, Harry could not come up with anything else.
"And what about you? What do you have to do for me to believe that 'Roy Hunt' was not just about you wanting casual sex? That I shouldn't think of it as a back stabbing traitorous act? What should I ask of you before I forgive you?"
Harry could not come up with a solid answer to that either. Maybe he should look into fixing what he did instead of trying to find proof to discredit what Malfoy had successfully done and take a tip or two from how he turned his life around.
Ron was right. You're a pathetic has-been who cares only about yourself. What could she possibly want with you?
He thought about the past year, how she had been avoiding him and what she said to him earlier today She never wanted to hurt him but he just wouldn't listen. She had been trying to tell him all along that she did not want that kind of relationship with him. Was it conceit or just denial that he could not imagine that possibility? How could she mistake her eventual physical response to his kissing for anything more than what it was; the only way for her to get him to stop. It was shameful that he had sunk that low.
Do the right thing. Think about her for a change. Give her what she wants and leave her alone.
He swallowed hard then closed the file, sealed and shrunk it to fit in between the pages of one of the other Bruin books he had to read. He magically sent the books to the hotel room adjacent to Hermione's where he would be spending the night, hoping to catch up on his reading after they talked with Ron and hopefully set him free.
Ron; he wondered how it would go. He was looking forward to it and not at the same time. Recalling Ron's crass behaviour the other night, Harry dreaded what further damage he could do to her, knowing how emotionally fragile she still was from his passing away.
An apprehension to take Hermione to Ron was growing within him. He should really ask her first if she wanted to see Ron. If she didn't want to, telling her about Ron's problem would force her to come. Which begs the question, what was the point of asking her if she would have to anyway?
Realizing the poor excuse he just tried to give himself for not being courageous enough to tell Hermione about Ron, he felt no embarrassment. But he did owe Ron a lot. If he were asked to choose between respecting Hermione's wishes on the matter and helping Ron move on, he would have to go with freeing the ghost from an eternity of unhappiness. He would probably tell her right before. There was no sense getting her wound up throughout dinner.
There was also the matter of asking Ron exactly how he died and hopefully drum up new leads or new evidence against Floyd. Ron's murder may or may not be directly related to the current case but he wanted justice for his best friend even if he would have to torture Floyd to confess. And the biggest incentive to nail the creep for it was to lessen the emotional burden Hermione had put upon herself about the accident.
Without realizing it, he had walked down the corridor and was standing just outside the now enlarged interrogation room/Command Centre. He peered inside through the small glass window on the door, watching Hermione without her knowledge, making most of the opportunity to see her without the guarded façade she had been putting up almost constantly since she came that morning. It was one of those things that he missed the most. His frustration was starting to boil over again.
His partner was giving final instructions to Holly and Leo and walked out.
"So, are you coming in?"
"Eventually."
"Don't take too long. For someone who has avoided you like the plague all year, she sure seems fussed about how she hurt your feelings."
She gave him a knowing look. Andy must have sensed his resolve waning and that was her way of telling him all was not lost. It was reassurance and coming from her, after her obvious disapproval of Hermione's treatment of him, it helped a lot. He nodded slightly.
"Okay. Stop moping already and keep your head in the job. Have you eaten?"
Naturally, hunger was not to be tolerated and essential to keeping his 'head in the job'. Now, why didn't he think of that?
She continued, "I'm going home and, barring any culinary disasters, dinner will be ready in an hour. Come by. Bring her with you."
He hesitated, unsure how Hermione would feel about it. Andy sensed his apprehension.
"You'll need to eat before you see the Ghost. I can't imagine anyone having an appetite after talking with him," Andy had a point and was already assuming what his answer was. "She's not allergic to shellfish is she?"
Trying to convince Hermione to come would be an interesting exercise but he thought it was a good idea for Hermione to see Andy outside work. They had gotten off on the wrong foot and Andy's peace offering of dinner at her place, he hoped, would help them work with each other better over the next few days.
"Promise you'll behave yourself."
"I always do," Andy dismissed.
"We'll see you in a bit," he replied.
Andy left and he heeded her advice. He used his wand to gain access to the now restricted area and went in, wondering if Hermione would even want to talk about his eruption earlier that day considering that she had been trying to avoid talking about personal matters with him altogether. That was part of it, the wait for her to be open to what he had to say. He had decided that he was done initiating. It would be pointless to talk to her until she wanted to, and he hoped she eventually would.
Hermione looked up and smiled, somewhat. He smiled back weakly and sighed inwardly as he walked towards her. He tried not to think too much about why Hermione felt bad about hurting his feelings. For as long as he'd known her she had always been that kind of a friend. They had a rich friendship; it was a good one. Maybe she had softened her stance and was now willing to have him back as that. All was not lost.
Across the room Hermione immediately felt relief at the sight of him coming through the door. She had been wondering when or if he would come again tonight, not really looking forward to spending the rest of the day with two strangers watching over her while she tried to sort out on her own what it was about what she did and said that made Harry so upset.
It used to come so naturally, but her intentional detachment from him this past year seemingly made tuning into his feelings rusty. Unable to straighten her face out to show less concern, the grimace/smile would have to suffice. Neither of them seemed capable of coming up with a proper verbal greeting as he found a spot beside her and focused on the documents spread out on the table. She also momentarily lost the nerve to ask what she wanted to ask him just before he stormed out of the same room earlier that day. Focusing on the case was a welcome distraction.
She should have been more prepared for his outburst considering that getting him to be livid at her or maybe even hate her was on one of her back-up plans. She did not imagine that would sting so much; she did not foresee that for Harry to be mad at her he'd have to be really hurt. Some plan. Harry had not spoken to her that way in a very long time, not since he was in recovery, and how he looked as he walked in just now reminded her of him during those trying times. He was pulling away, that much she could sense. Seeing him like this was agony.
They really had to talk and what happened earlier was not the only thing they had to talk about. They had to talk about them and that meant they had to talk about Ron. It had to be done and she preferred this thing between them taken cared of before the case took over; like right now.
Hermione felt stupid after reading the official London and Toronto Ministry records of everything about the case and it took a lot for her to feel that way. Personal excuses aside, she could only think about how alone Harry must have felt all this time and was angry at herself for being partly responsible for that. At least she had Ginny to talk to. She imagined what his life was like the past year, filling it in with snippets of what she read from his Toronto case file entries, wanting to know more of what he did the rest of the time.
She wanted to ask him but that would not be a good idea. These thoughts were feeding her love and encouraging it. It was better not to know because knowing made her care and caring made it so much more difficult to stay away. She could feel her feelings for him trying to break free and it was almost beyond her influence and control. She yearned to reach out, to touch, to connect even for a second, to appease her need to comfort him and know that he felt comfort.
Why does it have to be you?
He has no one else.
If you weren't around all the time he would get someone else.
Thanks for the reminder, Ron.
Anytime, honey. And thanks for not taking the potion last night. It's been a while since we talked.
Hermione sighed inwardly shutting off the voices in her head and searched for ways to break the ice. She barely responded when the other Aurors said their goodbyes and left the room. They were alone. Well, not counting the deadweight of what was left of their friendship. She couldn't tell if the short gasps she was hearing was it struggling for a second life or it on its way to its death.
Harry distanced himself from her, studying the stacks of case information she had spread and grouped on the table to help organize her thoughts about it. Without a word, he took the centre pile and piece by piece posted them up against the wall opposite the door. He surrounded Floyd's picture, first with facts known about him, then with possibilities about him.
Recognizing what he was trying to do, she took the Waxball information and put it up next to Floyd's. They carried on with the rest of the cast of characters, Hunt, Lestrange, the Potion Master, the mystery witch from his abduction as Roy, and the Waxball operation bankroller who was either Lestrange, the mystery witch, or someone else, occasionally conferring and adjusting the other's placements, intermittently reaching across, sporadically touching the same items as if they had thought the same thing at the same time, each offering to let go, as they did. For that span of time it felt like the way it was before with them, all good and uncomplicated.
They linked the players with solid or dashed lines depending on how they were connected and she noticed how he hesitated when it was time to draw one between them, at which point, Harry had become acutely aware of her watching. Finally, he took himself out of the picture, saying that he shouldn't be on the wall; symbolic; a message perhaps. She looked and walked away just in time before the injury his act caused within her surfaced and replaced the stoic front she projected for him to see.
Hermione laid out the events in London on one side while Harry posted the ones that happened in Toronto on the other. It was fitting as she noticed the vast ocean that what was so obviously between them, currently temporarily bridged by Floyd and this case of the Purple Potion. When that was gone they'd be back to what it was like yesterday but each with a clearer picture of where the other stood.
What's your problem? This is what you want, isn't it? You're finally getting what you want.
The impending finality of it all was causing this tremendous ache in her chest. When she decided this had to be she knew it would be painful but she just did not realize it would this much. Her question, of what it was that she said that upset him was really just academic now. She could ask, but would not be able to do anything about it. And it would be more painful to know and not do. But maybe if she did ask that would help him.
In ten minutes they had cleared the table and were staring at the montage of information on the wall together.
"Not bad," he said to her.
She almost disagreed, not really thinking about the same thing.
"Still needs a lot of work," she replied.
"Yeah, loads," he agreed, tensely. "You must be tired. It's close to midnight London time."
He was right but she didn't really notice. Was he suggesting that they should go back to her hotel and call it a day? A mini panic rushed through her, the prospect of her spending an entire night with him in the adjacent room, watching her, was disconcerting. It was way too early to turn in and she was way too awake to deal with that.
"I'm fine."
What are you planning to do? Stay here and stay awake all night?
She should have thought about how awkward this would be when Andy sent Leo and Holly home. She'd have to reassess Andy's planned Auror coverage. Alone in private with him should be a no-no, particularly at night.
"I need to go over some stuff for the talk I'm giving and I have to use your library," she fibbed.
Harry had this brief puzzled look on his face until he realized something, smiled somewhat and shook his head.
"What?"
Of course he could tell she was lying.
"She didn't tell you, did she," he said to her and the blank expression on her face confirmed what he already knew, "She wants us over for dinner."
Relief. Wait…what? She?
"Who?"
"Andy."
"Seriously?"
"Uh-huh. We have about forty minutes."
"I don't think this is a good idea."
Really, really not a good idea.
"We can't back out now. She's cooking. Shellfish."
"Should I be worried about poisoning?"
She asked seriously but he laughed, thinking she was joking. She and the witch did not get along. The woman hated her.
"It'll be a good opportunity for you to get to know her."
Or a good one for us to kill each other. And why would I want to get to know her?
Hermione almost blurted out but decided to bite her tongue or risk him asking 'why' she didn't want to get to know his partner.
"We don't get along. You should have seen us go at it about my schedule. I had to keep on reminding her it was my schedule. That woman is a control freak."
He just shook his head and laughed again, "We'll drop by your hotel. We have time."
To write my last will and testament.
Harry ignored her plea for a rain check and in no time at all, they had gone back to her hotel, she had a quick shower and was standing in front of the closet in the hotel bathrobe, thinking she should have packed something more appropriate.
"We're meeting an informant after. Best to dress casually."
His voice made her jump. She forgot that the wall between their rooms was currently an illusion and that the only private place she had was in the shower. She turned her back to him, donned on underwear, a pair of jeans and a red sweater. The thought of him watching her as she did all this warmed her entirely.
It was going to be a long night.
He's a gentleman; he would look away. He definitely looked away.
Harry's sudden reappearance through the adjacent wall right next to the writing desk and the brief moment their eyes met dispelled that notion. The caged fiery intensity she felt from him matched hers, burning her up even more. They both let it go.
"We should go," he said to her.
"We should," she couldn't agree more.
It was going to be a very long night.
A/N. Andy insisted on dinner.