Chapter V: Of Sure Things
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"Where is he, Ron?" Hermione moaned, roughly pulling her boyfriend into a secluded corner so that she could speak with him properly. "He promised that he'd be here… you don't think he's hurt or in trouble, do you? I mean-oh Merlin, what if he needs us but can't get a hold of us and-"
Ron couldn't help but roll his eyes despite himself as he listened to her rant in a typical Hermione fashion. "Hermione," he tiredly stopped her, rubbing his temples in aggravation over the extent of his mate's lack of regard for anyone else-especially Hermione. "Let's face it, he's not coming. He's not hurt or in trouble, no matter how much I'd prefer it that that was the case," he added with a grumble, before quickly catching himself as he realized just what it was that he had said. "Well, I mean… you know, given the circumstances," he offered in explanation, albeit a weak one. "But really, Hermione, you and I both know that it has nothing to do with that. He's a drunk, Hermione, probably pissed off his arse right now and forgot about your birthday," he told her, pulling her into his arms, holding her in a tight clasp.
She looked up at him, softly gasping for air and eyes brimming with tears, as she forced herself to swallow the truth "But I-I really wanted him to be here though…" she admitted in a choked whisper. "I need him…"
He nodded, tightening his hold on her. "I know."
"I miss him, Ron, I miss him so much."
"I miss him too," he admitted with a tired sigh, kissing the crown of her head before releasing her from his crushing hold to look her in the eye. "You can do this, we can do this. It's your birthday; let's not waste it, yeah?"
She smiled sadly, mustering up as much happiness as she could bring herself to fake at the moment. "Let's party-harty…" she sarcastically quipped.
He chuckled. "'Atta girl, that's the spirit."
She sent him a withering look. "Oh don't be a condescending prick now, I'm already angry at one mate, don't make me have to add another to that list."
--
"So… do you have any ideas as to who could have done it-I mean, based on what you know of the bloke?" Hermione asked him curiously as they made their way down to the pathology centre.
Harry sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in anticipation of the surely migraine-inducing reaction he'd receive from Hermione when he gave her the official answer. "Can't say anything at the moment… given the circumstances," he told her with a practiced numbness that had been utilized far more often than he'd ever like to admit to her judging self. "The family has very high political ties apparently, so it's all being kept very quiet, why they've been able to even keep it out of the papers," he added, purely out of guilt and in a desperate attempt to maybe pacify her.
"Oh don't you dare give me that," she snapped with a light glare his way, no where near as potent as her usual but still enough to pack quite the wallop. "Tell me!"
"Can't… against protocol and you know it… just forget it," he told her, stuffing his hands into his pant's pockets.
"No, I won't forget it," she told him, affronted by the fact that he even might have considered that she might actually just "drop it". "I want to know-no, I demand to know, I'm your partner and you should be more than willing to divulge that information in me, Harry, so tell me!"
"You don't have clearance," he told her, silently begging her to just let up so he could finally have some semblance of peace.
"Then get me the clearance, I should already have it as it is!-Merlin, and here I thought I was your blasted partner… come to think of it, do you even know the meaning of that word, because in case you're drawing a blank here it insinuates that there be no secrets between us, in regards to this at least."
He stared at her dumbly; shocked that she would even say something so ridiculous. "And how the bloody hell do you expect me to do that, Hermione?"
"With the fact that I'll pester you about it for the rest of our lives as incentive," she told him as she put on a wide smile, one that did nothing to hide the threatening gleam in her eyes.
He groaned, tiredly dragging his feet as they walked towards the labs. "Be reasonable, I have superiors."
"Then get them to `be reasonable'… jerk," she mumbled haughtily, admittedly bitter over his answer, she really wasn't too fond of the idea of him keeping something from her-willingly or not. Still though, she told herself, it was a justifiable bitter.
"Now that was off base," he complained.
"Get me clearance and it will be, for now, however, it's the truth" was her clipped response.
"Hermione-"
"Get me the clearance, Harry, I refuse to be some sidekick, I'm better than that. I'm the premier forensic anthropologist in England and I expect to be treated as such so grow some darn balls and get me the clearance, it's not as if you don't already annoy Buckley on a daily basis as it is, you've told me the stories and I distinctly remember chastising you over it!"
"Hermione-" he started with a definite whine to his voice, one that she quickly put a halt to with a glower. "Fine…"
--
"Harry, what are you doing here?" Ron asked him as he watched his mate haphazardly stumbled in through the front door and into the flat that he and Hermione shared.
"It's Mione's birthday, I wouldn't miss something as important as that…" Harry said as he wavered slightly, even while just standing in one spot, before leaning in to whisper to Ron "Oi, why are there so many people here, mate?"
Ron winced as he was accosted by the hot breath of his pissed mate. "It's her birthday…"
"Oh… any fun drinks here?" Harry asked, leaving a dumbfounded Ron, who was firmly rooted in his spot as he was hit with an increasing pain in the head caused by the daunting knowledge that his girlfriend's birthday definitely wouldn't go off without a hitch, as he wandered off on his own.
"Oi, Mione, where you are love-y," Harry called out none too quietly, quickly garnering the attention of the entire room who watched, with rapt attention, the pathetic scene that would surely enfold. "Where's the alcohol, love?…"
"I'm right behind you, Harry," she dryly told him, unable to stop herself from huffing right before he completely took her off guard when he turned and sloppily threw an arm around her, crushing her under his uncomfortably tight embrace, before soundly kissing her as he groped her arse of all things.
--
"Hi, Alex, it's been a while," Hermione beamed at the pathologist as she and Harry entered his lab, immediately allowing the man to enfold her tightly in his arms-an action that she readily reciprocated.
"It's definitely been a while, Granger," he told her as he released her from his crushing hold so he could get a better look at her, making sure to throw in a playful leer that was quickly met with a giggle and soft slap from her. He laughed, turning to look at Harry. "I take it that this is you `handler' then, the great Harry Potter, yes?"
"I prefer just Harry," he gruffly corrected the man as he took his proffered hand and shook it.
"Well then, `just Harry', it's a pleasure to meet you nonetheless."
"Alex, don't be such a tease… and a bad one at that… terribly unoriginal, if you ask me," Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation.
"Well then it's a good thing I didn't, isn't it?" he winked at her teasingly. "Anyway I'm afraid I had our dearly departed friend McMullen sent back to your labs because some bint-new intern, you know how much I abhor the dolts-sent it out without getting any permission from me, calls it `being helpful' apparently-" he rolled his eyes bitterly.
"Alex, back on topic," Hermione stopped him before, inconspicuously, whispering to Harry "great pathologist, but easily distracted and gets off track."
"Right, well I went through your notes and have to agree that this is definitely original work, spell wise that is… but as I was looking through them and taking down notes on the toxin levels and blood and scarring patterns I had a thought… based off of it I think we might actually be able to recreate the spells without that much trouble or even having to use your experimental techniques."
Hermione cocked a rather condescending eyebrow his way. "How come? I mean we've never seen them before and all the other processes have a twenty-five percent margin of error, Alex, that's the only way."
"Here," he said, handing them each a file. "Look at it, all of the pictures of the scarring that I took, all of it-the incision, the pattern of it, the amount of blood loss-it all coincides with preexisting spells. I don't think we're actually dealing with some ingenious spells master or anything like that but just someone that's good at arithmetic."
"Wait, where does math factor into all of this?" a baffled Harry asked, making a mental note to ask Hermione to give him the abridged version of that meeting, one filled with considerably less medical jargon and vagueness.
"Well, theoretically, spells are all math based," Hermione explained. "The idea is that while the commands for every incantation are basically just the Latin equivalent to what it'd be in English the hand movements themselves are believed to be dictated by what can be simplified to a mathematical formula that factors in the intention, the name, and the scope of it to create the pattern that you make out when you go through the movements-most of which actually, ultimately, create some geometric shape… it's all very hypothetical, really…"
"But it does make sense!" Alex retorted passionately. "I mean think about it, Hermione, a spell can't just be `abracadabra', swish with my mind, and aimlessly so, and then `poof', it just makes no sense. Everything in the world is math based in some form or another, and if we abide by that theory I think you'll find that for each of these spells used it will come down to already existing spells that were rationed and then combined into one, and using that ratio you should be able to derive that-"
"But it's all hypothetical!" Hermione argued disbelievingly.
"But your method takes two weeks, at least! Hermione, I wouldn't tell you this if I wasn't ninety-nine percent sure it was true. I really think that we're dealing with the combination of three spells-one for reducing blood loss, to prolong the entire ordeal, one for increasing the feeling of pain while not enacting more damage than sustainable on the body, and, lastly, one that acted as medium between the two to prevent any possible counteraction. You should be able to find out which three by looking at the markers on the bone and, theoretically of course, derive at a ratio based off of how often the insignia of each spell occurs."
Hermione groaned, leaning onto an empty lab table. "I don't like it… it's not a sure thing."
"Even your process is still in the experimental stages," he reminded her.
"But I've used it before-this is a murder, not a three-hundred year old corpse or something, there's a murderer out there that we need to catch," she huffed.
He shrugged. "I really think it'll work."
She sighed. "What do you think, Harry?"
His eyes widened in surprise as he looked at her in shock, clearly baffled as to why she would even bother asking him. "I deal with the suspects, you two can have your bodies, and what nasty shite that is…" adding the latter comment with an incomprehensible mutter.
She rolled here eyes, mumbling "butt-head", before turning to Alex again. "How do I get the exact wand movements? With this I should get about twenty-four possible matches, how can I narrow that down?"
"Bring a spells master in-you have that ex of yours, Crichton, he was fantastic when I worked with him on a case a year ago," he offered.
She nodded slowly, and Harry could tell she was already writing out a new plan of action in her head as the two spoke, he could practically see the wheels turning in her head. She always was easy to read.
She sighed, clucking with her tongue as she considered her options. "Fine, I'll analyze the bones tomorrow, but I'll need you to come in Friday so I can bounce ideas off of you."
"Why not your team?"
"I hate this year's interns too," she admitted sheepishly with a light blush.
Alex smirked at her. "Told you it's a dense lot this time around…"
--
"Harry, stop!" she cried, tears streaming down her face as she pulled on his arm, begging for him to just so much as spare her even a glance.
"No, I won't stop! I came here for your blasted birthday and now you're kicking me out?!" he roared.
"That's not fair."
"Yeah, mate," Ron interjected, "you stumbled in here drunk off your arse before grabbing Hermione for Merlin's sake. Just cool off, sober up, and we'll have a small celebration, just the three of us, yeah?"
Harry sent him a withering look, sneering at him. "Just not on her birthday, right? God forbid people know that you're associated with Harry Potter, the drunk who once was the-blasted-boy-who-lived, yeah? God forbid you're my friends when I'm not great! God forbi-"
"That's not fair, Harry, please," Hermione sobbed, tugging on his arm again. "Please just listen to me, give me a chance to explain."
"No," he snapped at her, pulling his arm from her tight latch on it, sending her stumbling backwards a few paces as he did so. "You think it's easy, do you, to just move on like that? Well I'm sorry but I just can't, I can't and I won't… I can't be the perfect, dandy Harry Potter who sits on a chocolate frog card or cereal box and just smiles there, I'm not that and I'm sorry if it doesn't meet whatever fucking quota you have in your heads."
Hermione gasped. "Harry, you know that that's bullocks. You very well know how much I love-"
"Oh don't give me that line, the truth is that I'm just some used, washed up commodity that no one needs anymore, and you two are just the same as everyone else, you've used me for what you needed me for and now it's over yeah? Well fuck this, fuck it!" he spat at them, storming out the room despite all of Ron and Hermione's protests.
"Harry!" Ron bellowed one last time as he helplessly watched Harry slam the door on his way out while his girlfriend was left in his mate's wake, reduced to nothing but hysterical sobs, on her birthday no less.
"…was that the Harry Potter?" was the only sound that could be made out from the stunned audience in attendance
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"I-I really missed you, you know?" she suddenly asked him as the two sat at the counter of the island in his kitchen, eating curry take out as they "reviewed" the case notes and autopsy report, or had, at least, genuinely intended to during their lunch hour before going so off tangent.
He furrowed his eyebrows, sending her a puzzled look. "What are you on about now?"
"Well I know we've never really talked about it and that it's always been a bit of a moot topic, but… I don't know… I just figured it was time we did… and that you might want to know… you know, maybe…" she awkwardly stumbled, seemingly shrugging every other word as she continued to trip her way through that confession.
He sighed; putting down his fork as he slowly clenched and unclenched his jaw, something that did nothing for her rapidly increasing state of nerves. "Hermione, really, what brought this on anyway, we haven't talked about it in… well ever, so why now?"
She shrugged, again. "it's just been on my mind a lot as of late, that's all… as I said, I don't know why, but I wanted you to know that I did… and that if you ever want to talk about it I'm here…"
"I was always there."
"And in a drunken haze too," she quipped, smirking at him in a futile attempt to hide the bitterness in that last comment. "I just wanted you to know that I did miss you, Harry, that's all. I promise there's no hidden agenda or anything, too."
He smiled at her, the corners of his lips slowly lifting upwards before they finally spread into a wide smile. "I'm here now, and always will be from here on out… and sober too, if it's any consolation."
"I'll be holding you to that."
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author's note: so I've been dealing with a terrible bout of writer's bloke as of late, one that I'm still not totally cured of but here; my attempt at writing it out of me oxymoronic much? and I hope you enjoyed it.
Sorry for the wait and please review.
p.s. author of the chap: Crichton, can anyone guess who I'm referring to it's a pretty easy one?
special thanks to my betas Searcy and MyUsedRomance as well anyone who reviewed!
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