A/N. Carrying on with the story… we continue at the Bat Cave, more on Gaunt in this part. Then quite a bit of Harry and Hermione in the end.
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Chapter 22 - Breakfast with Coffin Boy
Harry helped Hermione out of the casket. Just seconds ago, security left in a hurry, hot on the trail of the intruder caught on camera prowling near the main floor exit. It was actually a decoy Dean had dispatched to throw the wizards off.
Darn it! she groaned internally.
Why didn't she think of that earlier, before they hastily jumped into the coffin...before they snogged...before she made a total ass of herself? While moments before she was convinced that what she and Harry were doing made perfect sense, well, that moment had past.
"Are you okay?" he asked her, concern evident deep within his green eyes, the sight of them setting off more internal groaning.
This is so embarrassing...hopefully he's not too freaked out.
"Uh-huh," she lied, "Are you?"
"Yeah," came his answer.
Harry was lying too. He was just as freaked out. At least they saw it the same way. To talk about it would make it a bigger deal than it was.
Dean butted in, "You're okay, Harry's okay. Excellent."
"We should look for Corpuscula. Security could come back," Harry pointed out.
"True," she replied.
"Sounds good," Dean echoed, "But before that, Harry, you might want to put some clothes on."
They both looked down at his state of undress and began the frantic search for the missing apparel. She found the navy blue sweater inside the coffin, picked it up and handed it to him.
"Thanks," he acknowledged, donning it.
"And…" Dean added while she conjured a wet nap, "…you might want to rub off Hermione's lipstick from your mouth."
Harry took the moist towelette from her and obediently did. Both of them were blushing somewhat and neither had the guts to look at the other.
"There, that's better," Dean said stoically and concluded, "Now it'll be much easier for the two of you to pretend that never happened."
Harry was apologetic, "I'm really sorry."
"It's done with," she answered dismissively then warned, "And if either of you breathe one word about this to someone else..."
"I won't," Harry didn't let her finish.
"Me neither," Dean echoed, "But let me ask one thing. How was it?"
"Don't you even think about answering that question!" she threatened Harry who was about to open his mouth.
"Come on," Dean whined, "I promise I won't tell."
"Dean! We're in the middle of a bloody case!" she exclaimed in utter disbelief.
Blag!Blag!Blag!Blag!Blag!
The urgent pounding on the door made them jump, immediately drawing their wands out. Dean was on it straight away.
"One being, definitely magical, wizard from the looks of it," he identified for them.
Harry tried to send the person away, "We're busy. Come back in half an hour."
She rolled her eyes up in exasperation. Could he not think of an excuse that was of a different theme?
"Bullshit. No woman is worth more than ten minutes in the sack," answered an all too familiar voice adding to her irritation.
"You told him?!"
Harry didn't respond, unlocked the door and let Gates in, asking, "What took you so long?"
"Quite a show out there," Gates replied casually, motioning behind him, "Had to stop and watch. Who do I speak with to get invited to this party? Whoa!!! Granger? Is that you?!"
Gates stopped dead in his tracks. He had just noticed her and was now openly staring at her bare parts.
"What?!" she glared at Gates.
"Nothing. Just admiring the unexpected view," Gates replied smugly. "Who would have known?"
"And this is truce?" she spoke to Harry, arms crossed, eyebrows arched, now doubting his claim that he spoke with Gates.
Harry refocused them, "Gaunt's girlfriend is up here somewhere. We have nine rooms to search and..."
"And unless we find her or Gaunt we're not supposed to be here. Got it," Gates finished for him, morphing himself into the passed out Strix so accurately and quickly it impressed even her. He addressed Harry, "Here's the plan. You check out the rooms across. The whore and I will pretend to be looking for privacy on this side. If we see her or Gaunt, Thomas will announce. We'll meet you at the end of the hallway."
Gates swung his arm over her shoulders and gave her a not so gentle squeeze.
For the love of …! Note to self…never use this cover ever again.
"This 'whore' is out of service," she said, moving away and stepping out of his embrace.
"Get in character. Whores do what they're told to do."
"Who the fuck put you in charge?"
"You're with me," Harry made an executive decision and motioned them over to the door, "Come on."
They split up, Dean assisting her and Harry using the MIR. The first two rooms on their side were unoccupied. Inside the third was a threesome who generously invited them to join in. They politely declined. Gates as Strix was at the end of the corridor waiting for them as they got to their last room.
"She's not on my side," Gates reported.
That left them with one room, the larger one.
"There's a big crowd," Dean laid out the scenario for them, "I'm seeing thirty magicals, maybe more, huddled in the centre."
"We can't just walk in there," Hermione thought it prudent to be cautious.
"Why not?" Gates challenged, re-transforming into his normal appearance.
Before Harry could stop him, Gates turned the doorknob and boldly stepped into the room. Several pairs of eyes were upon them; a mix of vampires and humans, magicals and Muggles.
"Hi there," the idiot waved to the visibly hostile congregation, "Sorry to interrupt. I'm looking for a friend of mine. He's a wizard, Caucasian, about this tall, somewhat ugly, goes by the name of Morpheus Gaunt. Has anyone seen the fucker?"
A figure from the front row stepped forward, raised his hand, "That would be me."
There was total silence. Hermione strained against the dim lighting. It was indeed Morpheus Gaunt.
"It's so nice to see you again," Gates greeted.
Dean sounded off, "The MIR says he's Thomas Park. Who the fuck is Thomas Park?"
Hermione had heard of the name before but where?
Harry instructed Dean with a sense of urgency, "Get John right now. Give him that name. He'll know what to do. Warren, did you get that?"
Gates gave an imperceptible nod.
"The feeling isn't mutual. Everybody, meet Warren and his soon to be dead colleagues," Gaunt introduced, "Warren and corpses, this is everybody."
Out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw movement. Things unfolded rapidly. One moment she was looking in from the outside, the next moment Harry had pushed her away from the entrance and behind the wall for cover. Shots of light narrowly missed them as shrieking screams of panic emanated from within. Warren, who was just inside the entrance had dropped to the ground, avoiding the curses which shattered the wooden panel lining the corridor. He rolled away and she lost visual.
The ruckus spread quickly and there was chaos in front of her, behind and on the level below.
Stupefy!
Incarcerous!
Expelliarmus!
Hermione fired at targets inside the room disabling some of their foes but there were a lot more. Harry was covering her blind side as unfriendlies approached from all possible angles.
"Harry, John's on the other line. He says the arrest team is on their way and he wants us to hold our position," Dean's tense voice crackled in her ear.
Considering their target could leave any moment (if he hadn't already) it was apparent John wouldn't get what he wanted. She saw Harry's face harden with anger and frustration as she fried a couple of bats that were on attack.
"Tell him to wear his balls and screw what the Canucks want! We're not waiting like we did at the Wasabi so he better send back up!"
They continued to fight off the incoming hexes as Dean paraphrased Harry's message, "John, holding position is not an option. They're in a tight spot and they need help right now…John says he'll see what he can do. What the fuck is going on?!"
She had the very same question.
"Park is an escaped convict from a mental health facility for the criminally insane. You just confirmed tonight that he and Gaunt are one and the same," Harry summarized, "But the Canadians insist on not involving our Aurors with the arrest."
"Why?" Dean had to know.
She answered, remembering who Tom Park was, "Because Park mind controls and he uses something different from your garden variety Imperius curse. He once turned the entire Moscow Auror team against each other. The Canadians don't want to be responsible."
Dean swore again, "I'm coming in."
Hermione reconsidered their options. They really had to move. They were sitting ducks where they were and Gates probably needed help.
"We have to get inside!" Harry read her mind.
He fired a succession of curses to give her cover. She slipped in, found a nearby support column to use as a shield and drew fire. Just as Harry got in and disappeared from her sight, a crashing sound behind her caught her attention. It was Gates wrestling with three pissed off vamps and not doing well. He had lost his wand.
"I could use some help here!" he said to her.
"Next time, say 'please'," she replied, Stunning a couple off until incoming hexes forced her to go into defense mode, leaving him with one to contend with.
"Granger!" Gates strained as the vampire, who she now recognized as Corpuscula, gained upper hand and was about to sink her teeth into his neck.
With urgency, she conjured a wooden stake, aimed and shot it deep into the vampire's back, piercing through her heart and an inch past her breastbone. Gates pushed the slumped figure off him and went to retrieve his wand.
"A thank you would have been nice," she muttered to herself.
A group of humans darted in front of her, arms waving up high, terrified looks on their faces. Confused and frightened civilians were making their way out of the room.
"Don't shoot!"
"We're not armed!"
"Let us out!"
It became difficult to distinguish between them and the enemy, which made her wonder. There was an eerie absence of hostile fire. Where was the enemy?
Gates almost hexed Dean as the latter walked through the door. She whirred around filled with pressing compulsion to search for and find Harry. They heard the sound of a skirmish around the bend and rushed towards it where they found Harry at wandpoint, Gaunt holding what looked like his holly wand.
"Drop your weapons," Gaunt commanded.
"Don't listen to him. He's not going to hurt anyone," Harry said calmly without taking his eyes off his captor.
"Drop them or he gets it."
She and Dean did and she wanted to smack Gates at the back of the head for not doing as he was told.
"I want my wand back," Harry requested.
"Give him his wand back, Tom," Gates chimed in.
Gaunt appeared confused, shaking his head, "No."
"I said, I want my wand back," Harry repeated more firmly.
She thought they were mental to think they could convince Gaunt to do something so idiotic but to her and Dean's astonishment, he did hand it over handle first to Harry.
"Thanks," Harry took it.
"You're welcome," Gaunt replied politely.
"We're going home, okay?" Gates spoke softly.
"Okay," Gaunt's reply was almost childlike, simple minded, and she could only think Harry and Gates were responsible for that.
Gates cast a sleep charm over him and administered a phial of medication through his arm.
"Go to sleep," Harry suggested.
She and Dean looked at each other both puzzled about what that was all about.
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Harry went straight to the Head Auror's office the minute he got back from Toronto. It was about an hour after they got Park back in custody. John, Humptail and Trussel were waiting for him. The mood was gloomy and intense and on John's desk was a parchment he recognized. Was he serious?
"I'm giving Dean one week suspension without pay," John opened what was going to be an ugly conversation.
He didn't answer. John was saving the worse for last. He took a big breath in and out to keep his cool, this being an absolute must.
"I'm letting Hermione go," John continued as expected.
"Was this your idea?" Harry accused Trussel who hesitated.
"It was obvious insubordination," Humptail spoke for Trussel.
"It was a stupid order," he pointed out.
"But an order nonetheless," John rebutted.
Harry could feel his insides coming to a slow boil. No, he would not let them do this.
"She's an excellent Auror. If not for her and Dean Park would still be at large. You're going to fire an excellent Auror for this?"
"She's a liability. She's stubborn and she wants things done her way all the time," Trussel found his voice, his tone caustic. "This wasn't the first time she and Thomas did something like this."
"You don't like her because she thinks and she's smarter than all of us combined," he stated the obvious. "You don't like her because she makes you look and feel like a moron, not that you should unless you are."
Trussel turned purple. One down two to go.
"Even the Hag thinks she shouldn't be an Auror," Humptail brought up the training, "She'll be better off working somewhere else in the Ministry."
"That may be true but that should be her choice," Harry replied, "Is this final? Have you told her?"
John was shaking his head, "Not yet. She's off the rest of today and we're awaiting final reports. I'll talk to her tomorrow."
Hermione getting fired from a job she loved and dedicated herself to was injustice and unimaginable. It was wrong and it would destroy her. The next step seemed to be a logical one.
"If you're going to do that then you're going to have to fire me too."
"Harry, don't act like a petulant child," John tried to reason with him, insulting him at the same time.
Humptail chimed in, "She's your friend and that's the only reason we're keeping you in the loop. Are you sure you're okay throwing your promising career out the window for her?"
If it weren't for her he wouldn't be alive to have a 'career' but details like that counted for nothing as far as the three other men with him were concerned.
"But you should fire me. I knew what she and Dean were up to," that wasn't totally a lie. "I told them to go ahead."
"No, you didn't," Humptail challenged.
"Are you calling me a liar?" he challenged back.
Humptail retreated. Harry was done tiptoeing around him. Two down.
"Harry, don't do this," John pleaded, "Don't make me do something I don't want to do."
"It was my call and I'm not letting her and Dean hang out to dry for obeying my order. I deserve the same punishment you decide to give them, if not more. Do what you must."
John was upset, too upset he couldn't speak. As Harry stepped out of the office he overheard Trussel say that he was bluffing. A part of him dared them to call his bluff. He went off to find Hermione.
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Hermione and Dean were back at their desks at the Ministry, paperwork for the Bat Cave case just completed. Her partner was teasing her.
"It was an act," she tried to explain as she slipped her coat on.
"And a good one," Dean retorted back, "The moaning, the groaning…"
"We had to do it."
"Of course you did. It was part of the job and you would have done it even if it wasn't Harry."
Right…
"And just to be perfectly clear," he said plainly, "If we were ever it that same situation and it's a choice between that and fighting to our deaths, no offense but I would rather die."
"Duly noted. You're never going to let me forget this, are you?"
"Not a chance," Dean was grinning, "Poor Harry."
"What do you mean?"
"Did you not notice the deer in the headlights look?"
She had to chuckle. It was funny now, especially that Harry wasn't there.
Dean put his jacket on, "You should talk to him."
"You think so?" she wasn't sure.
"Well, I don't know," Dean backtracked, "It's probably too late. I'm sure the whole thing has scarred him for life."
Dean laughed, she smiled.
"Prat."
They made their way and got on a lift.
"Hey."
It was Harry. A somber, brooding, all serious Harry. She wondered how Toronto was.
"We were just talking about you," Dean answered, holding the door open for him.
"You were?"
While that livened up Harry's spirits a bit, Hermione could strangle Dean. Her partner was ignoring her dagger looks.
"Hermione just figured out another nickname for you."
"I did not!"
"The Boy Who Snogged Me in a Coffin. Coffin Boy for short."
The lift doors opened and their laughter spilled into the hollow and literally deserted Ministry Atrium. Dean was practically in tears, Harry was holding on to his side.
"That is so not true! I swear! He made it up, I didn't!"
"I can't believe you two actually went through with that," Dean was still in stitches.
"I can't either," Harry answered.
They were weaving through construction and got to the designated Disapparition area.
"I'll see you guys tomorrow," Dean waved, giving her a knowing smile.
Her partner disappeared, leaving them on their own with a good sedge way to talk and address the awkwardness that was bound to happen if they didn't.
"Dean can be horrible sometimes," she said to him, "Honestly, it wasn't me who made that up."
"I know," he reassured her, "Listen, about the thing, I mean the um…you know…"
"The kissing," she helped him out.
"Yes, the kissing. It was the first thing that came to mind and…"
"Harry…"
"…I may have started it earlier than I should have but…"
"Harry…"
"…I thought they were going to open the casket sooner and we ended up kissing longer and when I felt your um…tongue…things kind of got out of hand…
"Harry, stop!" she finally got his attention, but not in time to prevent him from re-telling the part that embarrassed her the most, "It was bad judgment on both sides and I'm sure we both learned from it. I just don't want things to change between us."
"I don't want things to change between us either. I'm really sorry."
"It wasn't your fault, you don't have to be," she reasoned, thinking how his being 'really' sorry twice now was putting a major dent on her ego. "Let's just put this behind us."
He seemed relieved, "Okay. But can I make a minor suggestion?"
"If you must. Am I really that bad a kisser?" she might as well make light of the matter.
Harry picked up on it, "No, actually, that was one of the best snogs I've had in a long while."
Define 'long'.
"It was definitely the best one I've had in a casket," she admitted, him being the only one she had kissed in one.
"Mine too."
That made them both smile.
"Your suggestion?" she redirected him.
"Ah, yes. I was just thinking that you may find yourself in such a situation again."
"No chance of that. It's been decided that fighting to my death is a preferable alternative."
"Right. Um…well just in case, the first part was okay, the light touching…
Squirm, squirm…
And he wasn't done, "…and even the undressing may have been justified…"
"God Harry. It's almost 4am. Get to the point."
"The French kiss has no place in pretend kissing," and now that he said it he was having a hard time trying to keep a straight face.
"I was going for authenticity."
Not intentionally…
"I understand where you're coming from but your attention to detail may be deemed inappropriate and unprofessional by some."
"I see," she nodded, and couldn't help but point out, "It's kind of difficult when we don't have guidelines and rules about pretend kissing while in the line of duty."
"I dare you to get something like that added onto the MOO."
That made them laugh and she said something about maybe taking him up on that dare.
"Heading home?" he asked her.
She nodded, "You?"
"Actually I was thinking of having breakfast," he said poker-faced.
"Seriously?"
"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day," Harry was only saying that; he missed breakfast all the time, "Do you want to join me?"
"I'm going straight to bed and so should you."
"This means we won't wake up 'til noon and all the more reason we should have breakfast now."
She chuckled, "I'm too tired to argue the lack of sense in that."
"Come on," he prodded. "Please, I could use the company."
"Fine," she relented, "Where?"
She was thinking which 24H diner they could go to.
"Finnigan's."
"Finnigan's is closed."
"Finnigan's is never closed, not to a part owner," he gave her a broad smile.
In no time they were standing in the spacious Finnigan kitchen, the rest of the bar/restaurant empty and quiet. Harry had offered to cook and he would have no arguments there. He put an apron on and rubbed his palms together.
She smiled as it dawned on her and mumbled to herself, "It's a ritual."
"What?"
"Before cooking, you always rub your hands together after you put your apron on," she was amused that after all this time there were still some things that she didn't know about him.
He shrugged, "I never really noticed. So, what would you like for breakfast?"
She wasn't really hungry but didn't want him to feel bad. Really, all this attention was a bit overwhelming. Aside from her parents, no one had ever asked her what she wanted for breakfast.
"I'll have whatever you're having."
"Are you sure? What I'm having is pretty unhealthy."
"I think I'll risk it."
While he cooked he told her about Toronto, about Gaunt/Park and about what he thought was the real reason why the Canadians didn't want help getting the convict back into custody. And now that the case was closed Hermione wanted to get the story straight in her head.
"The Canadians don't want it known that Park has an extra-ordinary skill in persuasion. They think the international community would insist on studying him," he shared.
"Can't say I'd blame them if they did. There are very few unique magical talents out there."
"But that's how he escaped the last time. A group of healers wanted to do some tests and he ordered them to help him get out. He's quite dangerous to the average human."
"Who guards him," she asked.
"Hired Dementors. And that's a big thing for a country that's reputed to be soft on crooks and criminals."
"So Park escaped three months ago, turned up briefly in Moscow before assuming the Gaunt identity," Hermione clarified, "But you didn't know Gaunt was Park at the Wasabi?"
"No we didn't," he replied, "We thought they were working together. That was why we didn't arrest Gaunt. We needed him to lead us to Park. Had we had someone more brilliant helping us with the case we might have figured out sooner that they were one and the same person. How do like your eggs?"
"Over easy. What was the Wasabi about?" she set up a small table for two.
"We needed to draw Park out into the open. He had mentioned the Resurrection Stone and the Peverells to one of his shrinks," Harry took off his apron, walked over to the table, set down the French toast, bacon and eggs, and sat opposite her. "He was orphaned at a young age and was obsessed about ways to bring back the dead.
"So Gates and his partner were posing as Peverells and you used Burkes to get that message out," she said and took a bite of the French toast.
"Uh-huh."
Harry wasn't kidding about being hungry. Breakfast which took him ten minutes to prepare was gone in about the same time. Sipping slowly from his pumpkin juice in hand, he didn't seem to be in a rush to leave.
"Dean told me about Australia."
"What did he say?"
"After talking to you he's now wondering if they're making the right decision."
She groaned, "I told him not to listen to me."
"Why shouldn't he?"
"Because I'm the last person he should listen to when it comes to relationships."
"I thought you gave him sound advice," he seemed earnest. "Brutal but sound. And just because your one relationship with a guy didn't work out, that doesn't make your opinions less valuable."
"Correction. I've had many failed relationships only each and every one of them happened to be with the same guy."
He chuckled at her attempt at humour, "Still. Don't think your opinions don't count. The experience should make you more confident."
"Confidence only comes when you've actually done something right."
"Was that why you and Ron kept on coming back to each other? To get it right?"
"I guess that was part of it. I was stupid to think practice makes perfect applies all the time."
"And the other part? "
"He was the only guy who was really interested."
"Hogwash."
"You think I'm lying?"
"I know you're lying. You've gone out with other men."
"Pigs who were most interested in running the bases first before figuring out if the actually liked the pitch and not the other way around," somebody stop her now, "There are no real gentlemen out there anymore."
"Ouch."
"There are no knights in shining armour sweeping us off our feet, showering us with affection, attention, love. Case in point, flowers."
"Flowers?" he was finding all this amusing.
"Where have all the flowers gone?" she rambled, serious and not so serious, "And don't get me started about those who pretend they're knights and can't stay on the bloody horse. The armour is tarnished, chivalry is dead."
"A bit bitter about that are we?"
"Generations of women before us had it and we won't ever experience it. Our daughters and their daughters won't know what it's like. Damn straight I'm bitter!"
They laughed at her somewhat true rant.
"Are we really that bad?" he asked and she made the mistake of looking into his eyes.
"Well, not all of you."
"Your ex-knight will be at the Burrow tonight," his tone sobered up and he was probing her reaction, "Jill's coming too."
She had forgotten about that detail. Molly was throwing Ginny a party, family and close friends only. Both she and Harry were invited and Ron and his girlfriend were going to be there. That was tonight. Great.
"Are you going?" Harry asked.
"I promised Ginny I would," she couldn't hide how unenthusiastic she was to go, "Are you?"
"I don't know," he was unsure, "It's for Ginny and I don't want to ruin it for her."
"As long as you don't bring Bimbo Three with you, I'm sure it'll be fine," at least she hoped it would be.
"Are you bringing someone?"
"No," was the plan; the less baggage the quicker and easier the escape, just in case.
They got up almost at the same time and began clearing their mess. Once that was done they left Finnigan's and walked to her rented flat in silence. She told him he didn't have to walk with her but he insisted. It had been a long night and this was a great way to end it.
"So, will I see you tonight?" she asked as she unlocked the wards to her flat. When it seemed that he was going to say 'no' she added, "You should at least wish her luck before she goes."
He realized she was right and requested, "Let her know I'm coming? So it won't be a surprise."
"I will. And I'll let you know if she prefers you weren't there," she somehow knew that was the other thing he wanted.
Harry nodded.
"I'll see you later."
He turned away to leave when she suddenly remembered.
"Harry," she caught him in time, "When you called me earlier, what was that about?"
He squirmed uncomfortably, "It's kind of embarrassing. I really shouldn't have."
"So what was it?"
"I had a bad dream."
This was so unexpected, kind of left her almost speechless.
"You had a bad dream and you called me?"
Harry hesitated again. For some reason he was suddenly exhibiting a lack of confidence.
"It was childish, I know, as I said I shouldn't have bothered you."
Was he really this dense?
"Don't be silly," she put him at ease, "Sure, I was in the middle of a case I wasn't supposed to be working on but it was no bother. However, at this point I'm gonna hurt you if you don't tell me what the bad dream was about."
That drew a chuckle from him and relaxed him somewhat. When the smile faded away, he looked at her with a frown and told her about his nightmare.
"I had a dream that you died," he paused, the frown turning into more of a grimace, "It was so vivid I had to know that you didn't. That's why I called."
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