Apologies for the delay - it was a holiday weekend here and as a result I never had the time to complete this chapter until today. To make up for the delay, I will try and get the next one out by the weekend.
Thanks once again to everyone who has taken the time to review.
BF
Pressing for Answers
Hermione hung her coat on the peg in her office and watched Harry slump into the chair next to her desk. They had lingered at the Weasleys for nearly another hour before Harry had insisted that they had to leave. The departure had been moving, with Arthur and Molly reminding them both that they were welcome back whenever they wanted. Ginny had remained in her room and there had been a slight awkwardness as the break up of the engagement hung over them all like a cloud, but they had been left in no doubt that the Burrow could still be considered as a home to them both.
She sat down across from Harry and regarded him with a quizzical expression. What now?
Harry recognised the unspoken question and sighed. 'I don't know,' he admitted. 'The only real lead we have at the moment is the entry in Cho's diary. If we can find out why she was meeting Ron then we might uncover the truth. I take it he never said anything to you?'
She shook her head. 'I was going to ask you the same question. He never said a word to me.' She paused, considering her next words carefully. 'You don't think Ron was into anything…suspect, do you?'
Harry recognised the tone; recognised the need for reassurance in the question. 'I don't think for one second that Ron was up to anything dodgy. If you want my opinion, I reckon that Cho uncovered something and approached him in confidence. Ron probably did a bit of poking around and the wrong people got wind of it. Just my opinion, mind.'
She tried to hide her relief, but then a horrible realisation came to her. 'Harry? If that's true then that means Ron…Ron was the target all along.'
'I know,' replied Harry, levelly.
She could tell that he was trying to sound casual about it, but his eyes gave the lie to his distress. It had always been assumed that Harry had been the target and that Ron had died in his place. The idea that someone had deliberately targeted Ron was a difficult one to accept, but she realised that this may actually help Harry overcome his guilt - he had been living for months with the certainty that Ron had died instead of him. 'It's to do with Cho's work at Gringotts, isn't it?' she finally asked. '"Transfers" she wrote. That will be account transfers, wont it?'
'Probably,' replied Harry. 'I can't think of anything else that it could be. But for the life of me, I can't see where Draco would fit into all of this. Remember; there was an eleven month gap between the two murders.'
Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment. 'We might be able to work that out if we can establish why Cho was the victim. She probably discovered something dodgy in the bank accounts and went to Ron. Why him though? Why not you?' Her tone was almost an accusation.
Harry shrugged. 'Who knows? Maybe she thought our past history would get in the way? Maybe she thought Ron would be in a better position to help?'
Hermione looked thoughtful. 'Or maybe she thought that meeting him would be less noticeable,' she added. 'That makes sense when you think about it. You are still high profile, Harry; if she was spotted meeting with you then questions would be asked - maybe even in the papers. She probably wanted to keep a low profile so got in touch with Ron instead. Maybe she wanted him to pass the information along?'
'But he never said a word,' replied Harry. 'We didn't work together, remember?' he sighed. 'I might have to ask a few questions back in the Auror office but I don't think I can trust everyone in there. If we ask the wrong people then word might get back to those responsible for killing Ron. We might need to try a different approach.'
'You mean Gringotts?' she asked. She noticed the surprised look on his face. 'Come on, Harry; it's obvious. If we can't chase this down from the Auror side we are going to have to speak to the Goblins. It could prove tricky though.'
'In what way?'
'They have their own rules and they generally do not break them. I deal with them regularly and I have a pretty good relationship with them but I'm not sure if they will let us see personal bank accounts. That's what you want, isn't it? You want a look at the accounts Cho was working on at the time of Ron's death.'
Harry nodded. 'That's exactly what I want. You don't think they will let me have a look?'
'They definitely won't let you have a look. They might let me have a peek though. I get on quite well with them.'
'Then what are we waiting for,' said Harry. 'We should go there right now.' He stood to leave, but Hermione shook her head.
'They definitely won't let us see anything if we just show up unannounced.' She noticed the confused look on his face and sighed. 'One thing I have learned in this job is that the Goblins perceive humans as arrogant, Harry. They think we do not show them enough respect and if you think about it, they are quite right to think this. Most people view them as little better than servants and the quickest way to annoy a goblin is to show a lack of respect.'
'So what do we do then?'
'We write to them. We write a letter to Ragnok - he's the head Goblin - and we politely request an interview. With a bit of luck, he might agree to see us tomorrow.'
Harry nodded. 'OK, so what do I write?'
Hermione smiled. 'You don't write anything; you leave this to me. I am head of the DMC, or had that little titbit escaped your notice?'
She noticed that he at least had the good grace to look sheepish as it became clear that he had forgotten this salient fact. She shook her head, smiling as she remembered all those other times when he - and Ron - had forgotten to engage their brains.
Boys, she thought in amusement. Some things don't change.
'Anything else?' she asked.
'I want to speak to Rita at some point - I was thinking it might be worth paying a little visit to her right now. What do you think?'
'I think that I would rather eat some butobuter pus than speak to that woman, but I suppose it is necessary. Do you really think Rita actually knows anything we don't though?' The distaste in her voice as she considered the reporter was evident.
Harry shrugged. 'She might, but that's not what I want to speak to her about.'
'What then?' She asked, curious.
Harry smiled cryptically. 'Just a little idea that came to me. I think it's about time Rita learned the value of public service.' He noticed her look of confusion and decided to elaborate. 'I need to speak to anyone who might have seen anything suspicious the day Cho died but we don't have the time to run down all of the possible witnesses. It would take us all day just to interview his neighbours. I've had a little idea that might bring the evidence to us but it means asking Rita for help - the Prophet is still the biggest seller these days, isn't it?'
'It is; the Quibbler overtook it for a while but the Prophet is definitely back on top.'
Harry nodded before glancing at his watch - four thirty. 'You write your letter; I'm going to pay a quick visit to the Aurors - I won't be too long and then we can go and see Rita.'
'Fair enough, Harry. Meet me back here in about half an hour?'
Harry nodded his agreement as he rose to leave. 'Half an hour,' he replied. 'It's a date,' he added as he turned to leave. As his back was to her, he did not see the sudden flush of colour on Hermione's cheeks at the words.
***********
Harry entered the Auror office expecting it to be virtually empty at this time of the day but was surprised to see that there were still a few people working away. Tom Proudfoot, John Dawlish and Blaise Zabini remained and all looked up as he entered. He was disappointed to see Dawlish and Zabini; it meant that he would have to be a little more subtle in his approach and subtlety had never been his strongest suit. He watched as Tom Proudfoot looked up from the parchment he had been scribbling on and smiled at him.
'Harry! Good to see you again. What brings you here today?' he asked, getting to his feet. Harry noticed Dawlish and Zabini regard him with scowls.
'Working late, Tom?' he replied with a smile. 'Not like you at all - normally you're in the pub by now.'
'Very funny, Potter,' replied Tom. 'Bloody paperwork; that's why I'm still here. Sometimes I think this place runs on parchment.' He glanced about as if looking for someone. 'The delectable Miss Granger not with you today? No need for another escort?' he asked with a wink.
Harry smiled. 'She's working on something for me at the moment.'
'Not what you want her to be "working on" I bet. I reckon there's something else you'd rather she "work on",' Tom added, nudging Harry in the ribs.
Harry flushed, but could not stop himself from seeing the funny side. Tom always did have a crude sense of humour. 'Oh, piss off, Tom,' he replied, laughing. 'A one track mind; that's what you've got.'
Tom smiled in return before turning serious again. 'So what can I do for you, Harry?' he asked.
'I just want to pick up the remaining files that Ron was working on before he died. I know that I am entitled to see them if I want, but I thought it would be polite to ask anyway.'
'And why would you want Weasley's files, Potter?' asked Dawlish, finally unable to contain himself. 'Is it not Malfoy you are supposed to be helping?'
Harry did his best to remain calm. 'Just a little discrepancy I need to check out, Dawlish,' he replied, struggling to keep the contempt from his voice. 'I don't need the files for long; just long enough to have a quick glance at them.'
'And this will help Malfoy?' asked Dawlish.
Harry did his best to speak civilly. 'It might; I just want to be sure that I leave no stone unturned.' He could see the sceptical looks on the faces of both Dawlish and Zabini. I have to be careful here; I don't know if I can trust these two. 'Look,' he began carefully, 'Ron's name came up in relation to something and I need to confirm it. It's probably nothing but I do need to check. You know how this works; you've both had to run down dead ends just to eliminate something from the enquiry,' he added, hoping that his reasonable tone would be sufficient to allay any suspicions.
It seemed to do the trick for after a moment, Dawlish flicked his hand dismissively in the direction of the archive room and sat down again. Harry did his best to hide his anger at the man's presumption but he succeeded because he knew that he had to make it look as if it was a trifling matter. He could not let it be known that he was checking out what could potentially be the break in the Malfoy case. He nodded curtly to Dawlish and headed towards the files. Tom followed him.
'Just ignore him, Harry,' he whispered. 'His nose has been well out of joint ever since you returned. I guess he just doesn't like it when someone shows him what a real investigator is supposed to do.'
Harry smiled as he pulled open the drawer of the filing cabinet. 'Thanks, Tom,' he replied as he began to remove the remaining paperwork within. They had not removed everything of Ron's in their previous visit and this time he wanted to be sure that he left nothing behind. He noticed Tom watching, his eyes widening as he saw the pile of documents grow and grow. They shared a look and a smile.
'"It's probably nothing,"' quoted Tom, trying not to laugh. 'Merlin, Harry; I'd hate to see what you need when you are on to something.'
Harry couldn't help himself; he threw back his head and laughed.
***********
Forty five minutes later, Hermione gave Harry a grateful smile as he held open the door of the Daily Prophet building to allow her to enter. She had finally managed to compose a courteous, respectful letter to Ragnok and had sent it off immediately before the two of them had Apparated over to the Leaky Cauldron. Thankfully, the pub had been virtually empty and no one had paid them the least bit of notice save Tom, who had contented himself with a nod in their general direction.
Now that unobtrusiveness was about to change she realised as they finally made their way into the foyer. Heads turned at their arrival and pretty soon, just about everyone in the immediate vicinity was watching their slow progress towards the reception desk. She even saw some of them whispering to one another at their approach and more than a few people had rather hostile expressions on their faces. Then she remembered; Harry and I have had a few run-ins with this newspaper over the years. She did her best to ignore the stares.
How does Harry deal with this all the time? she thought to herself as her feeling of discomfort increased. She had never liked being in the spotlight and the attention she had received in the weeks and months after the defeat of Voldemort had been enough to last her a lifetime. Harry had to deal with it wherever he went and it occurred to her that his name had not been out of the papers since his return. No wonder we are getting all of this attention.
She eyed the receptionist, noticing the young woman's mouth gaping open in recognition of the "famous Harry Potter." Sighing, she turned to see how Harry was handling it and was surprised to see him break into a smile. She had never seen him like this before; the grin plastered across his face was as phoney as a nine pound note.
'Good evening,' said Harry, pleasantly. He leaned in towards the young witch, inviting her confidence. 'I was wondering if you could help me,' he said quietly, 'I want to speak to Rita Skeeter and I was hoping that you would be able to direct me to her office.' He flashed the girl a winning smile.
The receptionist flushed scarlet. 'Of…of course, Mr Potter,' stammered the witch. 'She works on the first floor, last door on the right,' she added, pointing to the stairs.
'Thank you,' Harry beamed and Hermione was astonished to see him wink at the young girl. Wink? What the hell was going on?
She followed Harry towards the stairs in confusion. 'Harry? What was all that about?' She actually found herself feeling irrationally jealous of the young receptionist.
Harry laughed. 'It was nothing, Hermione. Much as I hate the fame, I learned a long time ago that it can open some doors. In this line of work, that can be an extremely useful attribute. We're not too popular in this building, remember; so I thought it would help smooth the passage for us. Just don't tell George, Bill or Charlie; they would have a field day if they found out.'
She smiled as they ascended the stairs together, making a mental note to tell George, Bill and Charlie at the first opportunity that arose. They continued in silence until they reached the last office on the right and she eyed the sign that hung on the door.
RITA SKEETER
CHIEF REPORTER
She watched as Harry stood still for a moment, taking a few deep breaths in order to compose himself. 'Just follow my lead,' he whispered before opening the door without knocking. She followed him in.
'What is the meaning of…' began Rita as she stood up at the interruption. Then she smiled; a smile phonier than the one Harry had bestowed on the receptionist and a smile that displayed her three prominent gold teeth. 'Why; Harry Potter! And Hermione Granger! So good to see you both after such a long time. What can I do for you?'
Hermione tried not to let her dislike for this woman surface as she knew that this interview could be very important. She regarded Rita for a moment; she was in her early fifties now, her curly blonde hair beginning to fade slightly and her heavy jaw showing signs of softening with age. Her eyes - only partly hidden behind her rhinestone glasses - remained as shrewd and as hard as ever as they followed Harry about the room. She followed Rita's gaze, turning to see what her friend was up to.
She realised that Harry hadn't said a word in response to Rita's greeting. Instead, he had examined the large, plush office until his eyes had been drawn to a large display cabinet in that was positioned by the far wall. She watched as he moved to examine it and it took her a moment to realise that it was an "I love me" cabinet that contained all the awards and commendations that Rita had accumulated over the years.
'Very impressive,' said Harry, dryly. 'You've had a long and distinguished career, Rita, judging by all of these awards. "Reporter of the Year" five years in a row, I see. I do notice, however, that you've had a bit of a lean spell over the past few years,' he went on, his voice full of innocence. 'It seems to have picked up again recently though,' he added.
Hermione noticed Rita flush at his remark and then it occurred to her; the lean spell would coincide with the years after the defeat of Voldemort. She, Harry and Ron had refused point blank to deal with the Prophet and the sales of the newspaper had fallen behind those of the Quibbler for the first time in living memory. She allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction.
'Well, you know how it is, Harry,' replied Rita, trying to keep the anger form her voice. 'The media is a fickle game and sometimes you just have to roll with the punches. I must admit that I was delighted to see you come back; you're good copy, Harry. You always have been. Now what can I do for you?'
Hermione noticed Harry smile as he considered her words and it occurred to her that being "good copy" was not something he was particularly pleased about.
'I'm looking for a small favour, Rita,' replied Harry.
Rita regarded him with a shrewd look. 'I hope you don't expect me to reveal my sources, Harry. I would be extremely disappointed if this is the case. You know how this works; we are both in the same line of work.'
'You are?' asked Hermione, unable to let this comment go unchallenged.
Rita regarded her for a long moment, the dislike obvious. 'You might not understand, Miss Granger, but I'm sure Harry does. We are both in the business of finding out things that other people do not want us to know. In order to do this we both must use sources - sometimes sources of a disreputable nature. However, we can never reveal any of these sources because if we did, word would get out and people would stop talking to us. Isn't this true, Harry?'
Harry looked amused. 'It is true,' he replied, 'but I was not expecting you to reveal your methods, Rita, much as I would like you to. No; that's not why I am here; I am here because I want you to publish a little appeal on my behalf.'
'An appeal?' asked Rita and to Hermione, the reporter took on the look of a hunted animal. 'What sort of appeal?' Rita enquired as she surreptitiously opened a drawer in her desk. Hermione noticed with concern that she reached for a Quick Quotes Quill.
'I want you to put out a request to you r readers,' replied Harry. 'I want you to make an appeal for anyone who might have seen anything suspicious near Draco Malfoy's apartment on the day that Cho Chang was killed.' Hermione watched as he noticed the Quick Quote Quill emerge from the drawer and begin to take notes. He walked over to it and began to read what it was writing down. She decided to join him, reading the green ink on the parchment over his shoulder and quickly beginning to feel the anger grow within her.
Harry Potter (23), troubled hero of the war, made an emotional appeal for assistance to this reporter in order to break the deadlock in the Malfoy case. Clearly harbouring the guilt from the error of judgement that led to the death of Ronald Weasley, Potter nevertheless…
'Is this a new version?' asked Harry casually as he took hold of the quill and began to examine it.
'It is,' replied Rita, surprised at the question. 'It's the latest model.'
'That's what I thought,' replied Harry and Hermione watched as he - without taking his eyes off Rita - casually snapped it in two. 'Never did like the damn things,' he said quietly as he disdainfully tossed the broken pieces into the corner of the room. 'Now, will you publish the appeal?' he asked, as if nothing had happened.
Rita looked furious. 'Why would I do that?' she hissed. 'Why would I help you?'
'Because it sells newspapers,' replied Hermione, surprising herself by speaking up. 'You know that an appeal would make a good front page, Rita, and it would shift a few more copies of your rag. Can't you see the headline? "Potter in Appeal for Help!" It has quite a ring to it, don't you think? It might even help you get another award,' she added, nodding her head at the trophy cabinet.
'I'm managing fine without your help, Miss Granger. I have picked up more than a few awards since the unfortunate death of Mr Weasley - or hadn't you noticed?'
'Oh, I'd noticed,' she replied. '"Weasley Murder - Potter Guilty of Negligence!" was a particularly successful article, was it not? I think I still have a copy of that one,' she added scathingly.
Rita laughed. 'This is why there is no chance of me helping you. Did you really think you could barge in here and expect me to co-operate?'
'No,' she replied. 'But I did come here expecting you to use your brain for once. How will it look when we go to the Quibbler and ask them for help? Of course, we will have to explain how the Prophet refused to act in the public interest; why its chief reporter decided not to get involved in the biggest story in years. I'm sure your editor will be delighted when he reads that.' She watched her words strike home; watched as the reality of the situation confronted Rita and observed that the reporter was cornered. She was a victim of her own profession. After a long moment, Rita finally replied.
'OK, Harry. What is it you want me to print?' she asked with a sigh.
Hermione tried her best not to look smug, but failed miserably.
Sometimes, life was good.
***********
Hermione sighed as she closed her front door behind her and kicked off her shoes. It had been a long day and she knew that she would have no trouble sleeping tonight after so much exertion. It occurred to her that there was something a bit macabre in the fact that investigating a brutal murder seemed to promise a better nights sleep than she had enjoyed in months, but she had dealt with stranger paradoxes in her life.
'Hi Crookshanks,' she whispered to her faithful pet as the cat trotted over to rub herself against her mistress' legs. Crookshanks was the only certainty in her life at the moment and had been for some considerable time. The flat was a lonely place sometimes and she often thought that the companionship of her pet was the only thing that had kept her sane recently. Whilst she still saw the Weasleys nearly every other day, each night she still returned to an empty apartment and the loneliness was beginning to get to her.
She had asked Harry if he wanted to go out for dinner but he had - politely - refused. He had explained that he had promised to visit Draco and that he needed to speak to Narcissa about a few things. She had tried to hide her disappointment but Harry had sensed her reaction to the refusal and had smiled softly.
'I want to, Hermione; it's just that I can't right now. Maybe tomorrow?'
She had accepted this apology of sorts and contented herself with the knowledge that he really was tied up in the case at the moment; she had to be happy with the fact that he was finally back. It seemed incredible to her that so much had happened in only a few short days; indeed, this time last week she was despairing of ever seeing her friend again.
But now he was back and she believed that she was finally getting through to him. The visit to the Weasleys today had done wonders and the hard, cold, cynical Harry was slowly beginning to disappear. She doubted that she would ever see the carefree youth she had once known and loved but today she had seen glimpses of the real Harry Potter begin to emerge. When he had taken her hand in the orchard, she had felt for a few brief moments that everything was fine again; that death had not visited them and that a future filled with promise was open to them both.
Now, as she settled herself down on her couch, she realised that Harry was her future. With the exception of Ginny, she had no real friends to speak of and since Ron had died she had made absolutely no attempt to cultivate new friendships or romantic relationships. Harry's disappearance had hung over her like a cloud and she knew that she had put her entire life on hold waiting for his return. She had spent so much time and effort looking for him that now he had returned she was left with the problem of what to do with her life. The Malfoy case - whilst proving a welcome distraction - would not last forever and she feared what would happen once it was over. Will I be able to pick up the pieces of a fractured life?
Harry would be the key to this, she knew. They had always been close; always depended on one another despite being romantically involved with others. Ron and Ginny had seemed to accept their deep friendship but she knew that not everyone would understand such a relationship. Indeed, there had been times when she thought that her closeness with Harry caused some resentment with the Weasley siblings.
And that was her problem, she knew. Every potential friend; every potential lover would have to first measure up to Harry and then accept that he was such an important part of her life. Ron had - just - been able to accept this but he had been able to do this from a position of having known the two of them for years. Would anyone else be able to understand her need to have Harry in her life?
Probably not, she realised.
And what of Harry? She had no idea what he planned to do once the case was over and she still harboured fears that he would carry out his threat to disappear again. Whilst she didn't think this likely in view of the progress they had made together, she still considered it a possibility. She did know one thing though; she wanted to be with him whatever he decided to do.
She was aware that the two of them had shared some very intense moments since his return and she also had a deep, lingering suspicion about what he was talking about when he spoke of trying to work out what Ron wanted him to do. She was no longer a swotty, innocent schoolchild; she wasn't a fool; she had seen the look in Harry's eyes when they had caught one another's eyes and she was almost afraid of what she beheld in those moments when they had stared at one another to the exclusion of all else.
Desire.
It was almost understandable. As far as she knew, Harry had not been with a woman since he had left nearly a year ago and she was certain that he was not the type to betray Ginny in such a manner. He was a young man and would have the drives and urges of a man in much the same way that she too had her needs. She had not been with anyone since Ron and it was an aspect of her life that she missed deeply. But with Harry?
It seemed almost unthinkable. Whilst they had always been close there had not been a hint that there might be something more to their relationship. It was true that she had been attracted to him back in their fifth year, but she had taken it for granted that Harry did not see her that way and had dealt with this fact without any feeling of disappointment or regret. She valued their friendship too much to risk it for anything and she had always put her attraction to him down to a natural reaction between two teenagers who were close. She had thought no more about it since. Until now.
Now that Harry had finally severed his relationship with Ginny, that is. If what she thought she saw in his eyes was a simple case of lust then she knew he could have slaked that particular thirst with Ginny - or indeed just about anyone else - any time he wanted. But he hadn't; he had broken off the relationship with Ginny and this now begged the question; when Harry looks at me like that, is it love? Could it be love?
One problem was that in order to fathom Harry in matters of the heart, one needed a long plumb line. The other problem was that if the answer to this question of love was yes, then what am I going to do about it? Do I want it to be true? Harry has just split up with my best female friend; I was engaged to his best friend and the brother of his fiancée! What the hell do I do about this if I am right? And if I am right, how long has he looked at me this way?
This was the crux; she had no idea what to do if she was right and the thought that Harry had secretly harboured feelings for her for any length of time was deeply disturbing. Did this mean that everything else had been a lie? Is this the reason that I have been having trouble breaking through?
Sighing, she sat back on the couch and closed her eyes. She realised that these were questions she was not sure she ever wanted answered.
Oh, Harry, why do things always have to be so difficult?