A/N : Fair warning …D-Hr scene coming up
Chapter 6. The Gryffindor Ghost
Hermione was still immersed in paperwork in her office at five thirty that afternoon when two grey owls swooped into her window and landed on her now tidier desk. Attached between them was an envelop from a colleague in Michigan, information she had requested yesterday, rush.
Her possession of the information was not exactly kosher. As in Hogwarts, there were certain rules she would break, certain lines she would cross, if she had enough reason to do so. She now owed her Michigan counterpart a huge favour for violation of patient-Healer confidentiality, hospital privacy regulations and a few other international statutes against transport of patient information. They could lose their jobs over this and even their licenses to heal. Hermione took a long time to decide that the information was worth the risk.
As the owls were refreshing themselves in the mini owl post station in the far nook of her office, she emptied its contents onto her desk. It was a single piece of parchment.
CLAY ROOFDAM
They both agreed it would be best to not make it so obvious in case somebody happened upon the file. Hermione would have to praise the Detroit area Healer for her use of the anagram.
The one parchment purging and mailing method was quite useful in the clinical and research world because of the sheer amount of documents that needed to be stored or moved from one place to another. With the appropriate pass code, a simple spell would make the parchment reflect the original from which it was copied from, and according to the parchment details, it would expand to a two-inch stack. That explained the need for two owls.
Hermione just sat there for a few minutes, staring, waffling about whether she should go ahead and read Draco's Detroit Hospital file. It was definitely personal and she could not justify it being otherwise. The hesitation was not so much because what she was about to do was illegal; she was past that the moment she called Michigan. It was more because she was taking a shortcut.
She was taking a shortcut because she did not have a clue what she was getting into and she was going into it a bit too fast. Ginny's caution about dating Draco was both well meaning and sensible. Hermione agreed she was crazy to date him, and to date him this soon after just meeting the new version of him. Her request of the illicit information was borne out of panic and the last time she was in such a state of alarm was when they were searching for the Horcruxes.
Draco's file contained the answers to the many questions swirling around in her head about him. The Draco Malfoy that was at Hogwarts was a far departure from the Draco Malfoy that came back from Michigan, and to her, the change appeared sincere. She needed the 'why' and the 'how' and she wanted all possible versions of it. As a researcher, she had no fear of the unfamiliar and she approached this unknown just like she would any mystery.
She remembered the first time she sat down with him and Ginny to discuss the Magorian trial a week ago. The tension in the air was palpable. Every time Ginny spoke, and Ginny spoke a lot that afternoon, she could literally see barbs and sparks in the air.
Hermione was not surprised at all by her animosity towards him either. Understandably so, this was the result of the six years of hostility at Hogwarts capped off by his significant role in the death of Albus Dumbledore. It was an interesting process, recognizing how a plain thought would form in her mind and come out of her mouth laced with hate and anger, all without having to think about it.
Draco was composed all throughout that one-hour meeting, taking it like a man from two vicious acerbic witches who didn't want anything to do with him but had no choice. If there was one thing that Hermione could compliment Draco about that day it would have been his self-control; he did not lose his temper and he did not lose his focus on the case. On hindsight, they were quite abusive. Any other person, and remembering that Draco had volunteered, would have walked out two minutes into it.
At its conclusion, Draco did the unexpected. He apologized. He apologized to Ginny for his family's actions towards the Weasleys all those years and for getting her mixed up with Riddle's diary. He apologized to her for calling her Mudblood and to them both for everything malicious and despicable that he did while they were at Hogwarts, adding that if he had to name them all it would take all week (to which Ginny's sidebar was 'A week if he didn't sleep'). And he apologized to them for killing Professor Dumbledore, though all three of them knew that he didn't do it.
He was serious and honest (at least Hermione thought so). There was nothing melodramatic or excessive about the apology. In fact, he said he didn't expect forgiveness. What he did expect from them from future meetings was at least some professionalism, to not let their personal dislike for him affect Magorian's chances at the trial.
Hermione had to admit he was right. This wasn't about them; it was about helping Magorian. Professional she could definitely do and she did. For the next couple of meetings, 'civil' was the key word.
The turning point, she remembered was that night Ginny left them at her flat to go over the finer details of the trial.
"What if they ask about Firenze's banishment from the herd," Draco asked.
"Tell them the truth. It was a long time ago. It's totally unrelated," she answered.
"Umbridge knows, she'll point it out and it will be like we're trying to hide the fact that Magorian and Firenze had differences."
"You're right," Hermione replied, biting her lower lip as she thought, "What do you suggest?"
"I think it should come from us. So at least they know we're not hiding it," he was surprised that she asked for his opinion.
"I thought we were hiding it."
"I thought we weren't."
"No, we were, but you're right. We shouldn't."
"Seriously?"
He looked like he couldn't believe that he just talked her into it.
"Yeah, seriously," she replied, seriously.
And they hit an awkward spot when neither really had anything else to say. Draco balked first.
"Listen, Granger. It's midnight."
"And I need to know this because you become the evil bastard that you really are soon after?"
She kind of forgot about the civil part after hearing Draco call her by her last name. Again, it was something spontaneous, reflex-like, like she had this evil twin screaming to be heard. There was yet another pause, and she recognized from his reaction acceptance of the fact that there were just some things that wouldn't change.
"No," he replied, calmly, "You mentioned that you have to be at work at six for a meeting. I thought you might want to get some rest. We can pick up where we left off tomorrow."
That was considerate of him and in return, she had been such a bitch.
"Listen," Hermione felt foolish, "I'm sorry. It's hard, you know, old habits."
He nodded, "As I said, I don't expect forgiveness."
"I don't get that. You don't expect it, not even a bit?" she thought it was sad apologizing and feeling that there was very little chance he would be forgiven. Wasn't forgiveness part of the reason, the ultimate pay-off, the quest for that full circle, why one apologized?
"Why set myself up for more disappointment? I kind of figure that most things I did are quite unforgivable."
It must have been the time or an indication of how tired she was but as she looked at him that night in her living room, Draco Malfoy reminded her of a broken man, a particular one who had the same defeated look in a different living room years ago; the defeated look of not being able to forgive himself. The only difference being one of them was at least making an effort.
"Not unforgivable," she said to him, trying to convince herself of her words. "Hard to forgive, maybe. But not unforgivable."
Draco looked back at her, shaking his head.
"Fine. Very, very, very, very, very, very," she took an exaggerated deep breath in and continued, "very, very, very hard to forgive."
For the first time in their lives they exchanged smiles.
"I have to go," he finally said to her, as he gathered the documents and started putting his coat and jacket on.
As Hermione walked him to the door, she suggested, hoping it would help with the civility part, "If we're going to be working on this case together, you should really start calling me by my given name."
Her wicked twin in the back of her head was commentating, 'That would be Mudblood to him.'
Draco turned towards her at the entrance and said, "I'd like that, Hermione."
This was definitely going to take some getting used to.
"Good night, Draco."
"And by the way," he said to her just before he left, "It's during a full moon."
"I'm sorry," she didn't understand.
"Not midnight. I become the evil bastard that I really am during full moons," it looked to her that he was grinning a bit.
She chuckled. He was trying to be funny.
"Thanks for the warning. I'll be sure to check before I meet with you, then."
What happened during the days that followed was quite shocking even to her. Two nights later they were having dinner, and the night after, and the night after. He asked and she didn't have it in her to say no. She kept on seeing the broken man in the living room, needing a chance. In fact, it never crossed her mind to refuse.
There were others who asked her out but Draco was the first man she dated since Ron's death. Ginny attributed this to an obvious decline in good taste. Maybe Ginny was right to ask if this was one of her lost causes. It wasn't that she really wanted to go out with him; she just didn't mind it and she found their time together quite pleasant. Like their kiss. There was no urgent compulsion to kiss him but when they did, she enjoyed it. Concerned, she immediately called a friend in Michigan.
They chose Muggle restaurants; decent, reasonably priced ones. They talked, mostly about their work, about politics, about London life. It seemed to her that both of them were avoiding talking about Hogwarts all together. She wanted him to initiate, signal that it was something he was ready to talk with her about. She was thinking that maybe, he was waiting for her, too. She'd make a point to ask him tonight.
Hermione looked at her watch. She would not have time to read it prior to seeing him even if she decided to go ahead and do so. As she left her office with the Malfoy file in her briefcase that night she just thought how it was so unlike her to procrastinate.
XXXXXXXXXX
It was one in the afternoon in Toronto. Both he and Andy had just come back into the Auror Office from the blustery cold, his partner swearing more than her usual the three hours they spent outside a Toronto pub on McCaul and Elm. The Ghoul Waterhole was a known hotspot for not so upstanding witches and wizards and they were watching for any uncommon activity. There was definitely an increase in non-local patronage. The craziness was starting.
They were on-call for the next three nights and Andy had agreed to cover for him so he could spend a few hours in London. He planned to Dissaparate from the International Magical Travel Centre at 4pm, 9pm London time. Dean suggested looking for Hermione at St.Mungo's or at her flat.
He lost Andy somewhere on the way to their desks as he picked up a copy of the wire flash from the London MLE. Among other things, on it was the official report of the incident at Gringott's. It was a robbery, ten vaults, thousands of Galleons, one missing Goblin and found in one of the emptied vaults, an unconscious man. Someone he knew from Hogwarts, someone who was supposedly retired. Argus Filch was in St. Mungo's, still unconscious.
Harry read that Magorian was free, thanks to Malfoy. There was no mention of Hermione or Ginny on the report. He was not fond of Magorian and really was not fussed about him going to Azkaban if it meant there would not be a need for his defence team to celebrate. Again, today was just a really bad day to hope for one break. There were no details about why Magorian was acquitted or if there was another suspect for the murder of Firenze.
Andy suddenly appeared beside him, tapping her feet with this nervousness that she always had when she was excited about something. It drove him crazy when she did that. He looked at her.
"Grab your coat," she said to him as she walked away, indicating he should follow.
"Where are we going?" he asked her as he caught up.
"House hunting."
One thing that he learned about Andy was if she wanted to give you more information, she would give it to you without you having to ask.
And if you asked, "House hunting?"
"House hunting."
He followed her to their Ministry issue, magically enhanced, Ford Taurus and got on the passenger's seat. He never drove in North America; at least not on the streets. For someone who bent a lot of rules, he had significant difficulty driving on the wrong side of the road.
Harry was getting antsy.
"I didn't know you wanted to move," he said to her, not mentioning that maybe they should do this after work.
"This morning, Kettlenip and Snow were talking about good neighbourhoods to live in, it got me thinking while we were freezing our butts off outside the Ghoul," she said to him and he did remember overhearing their conversation.
"Kind of impulsive, even for you, don't you think?"
He looked out the window and noticed large brick houses. They were driving through an established, old money neighbourhood.
"Oh, we're not buying; just looking," she was smiling at him impishly.
"We are?"
At that point, Andy had parked on the street in front of a huge dilapidated boarded-up structure of what he imagined would have been an opulent mansion in its heyday. On the snow covered front lawn a faded sign was posted, 'FOR SALE or LEASE'. Stamped across the sign were the words 'Reduced Price'.
As he looked at it, all he could think about was who was going to buy this dump. For the right money, any contractor might, to tear it down and build anew. He was sure there were lots of people who would want to live in Forest Hill.
Jane Doe's weird message. Forest Hill. Four Five Five. 455 Forest Hill Road. An address.
"Brilliant, Andy!" Harry said to her, not noticing her blush.
"I called the agent. She said to feel free to look at the property without her." Andy told him.
"Did she say how long it's been in the market?"
"She was kind of cryptic so I did some checking on my own. No one had lived in it for over twenty years. The Muggle owner died five months ago and it's been on the market since. Many, many lookers, no offers."
"Designated?"
She answered as she drew out her wand before entering the massive front entrance, "I guess we'll find out."
Andy held the door ajar wide enough for Harry to pass through, his wand now in his hand and ready for anything. He felt her behind him and the door creaked and closed noisily. The inside of the house was already gutted, the walls that used to separate rooms barely existent, thick dust on the floor newly disturbed by their footsteps. The enclosure was dimly lit by the sunlight filtering through the two remaining unboarded windows on their left and right.
About three years ago, Ministries all over the world signed an international law assigning specific houses and places for 'designation'. A 'designated house' was just a fancy, legal term for…
"Watch out!" Andy exclaimed, a large block of wood came hurling towards them from the front.
Harry barely had time to duck safely out of the way, rolling to his right.
"Reducto!" Andy obliterated the careening object in the air a mere few feet above her.
There were fast moving swooping unformed figures about and taunting laughter filled the room.
"That answers our question," Andy said under her breath as Harry positioned himself right beside her, keeping their eyes peeled.
The house was indeed designated. Haunted. He had hoped it wouldn't be.
"How many do you think?" Harry asked.
"At least one…" two more objects came from their flanks.
"Repello!" Harry shielded them from what looked like parts of a large marble statue
"At least two poltergeists, and looks like a handful of entertainment hungry ghosts," Andy corrected herself.
More insulting sniggering could be heard. The poltergeists were cowardly invisible but several pearly white transparent individuals were now floating around them as if gathered for a spectacle.
Harry shouted out, "We're Aurors on official Ministry business!"
A voice echoed what he said in a high pitched mocking tone, "We're Aurors on official Ministry business!"
"Let go of me!"
Harry turned and saw that Andy was now floating a couple of feet from the floor. He aimed his wand on her left and fired of a releasing spell. One swore loudly as he hit his mark. Andy fell to the floor after he did the same to her right. She looked extremely pissed but seemed physically fine.
"I'm Harry Potter! Ron asked me to come!"
There was hushed murmuring among their audience and the two large poltergeists who were causing them mischief showed themselves.
"It's Harry Potter."
"The Harry Potter?"
"I want my money back!"
"The Choking Seeker?"
"The Big D of Quidditch."
"The Quitter."
Harry felt like he was eight, being subjected to horrible name calling on the playground. And to think his Quidditch days were over a long time ago. He looked at Andy and met her eyes, apologizing that she had to hear this. It was embarrassing.
Andy was actually amused and asked, "The Big D?"
"Disgrace, disappointment, dejection, whatever you fancy," he answered.
"I always preferred 'The Big Dud'," said a familiar voice in a frosty, somewhat hostile tone. "But on a more personal note, deceitful bastard is most appropriate."
Harry had hoped not but when he first realized Jane Doe had directed them to a haunted house he could only think of one reason why anyone would be there. He turned towards the direction of the transparent figure. The ghost's red hair and blue eyes were faint, but the tall freckle-faced imprint unmistakably belonged to Ronald Weasley.