Gravity of Love

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Any characters or situations that are unknown in the HP series are the author's intellectual property and should not be used without permission.

Author’s Note: This story is not canon-compliant, and certainly not Epilogue compliant. While some elements of existing canon may be maintained, this is AU from Book 5 onward.

Chapter One

April 27^th, 2002 – Assateague National Seashore, Assateague Island, VA

The sun was especially warm; it lured a few avid admirers out of their winter hibernation to amble on the beach and dream of an early summer. A few couples walked along the surf line, playing tag with the cold surf that foamed at their feet. One hearty soul in hip waders attempted to fish from time to time, though he seemed more interested in sitting in his folding chair and pulling on his beer than in catching anything.

Further up the beach, a young woman sat on a blanket with an open book on her knee. Dressed for the cool sea breeze, she looked up frequently at the little boy in front of her. He was engrossed by his attempt at a sand castle. So far, it looked more like a large burial mound than any castle she knew.

The young woman tucked away her book and joined her son. The strolling couples moved out of sight around the edge of the coastline and the fisherman packed up his things while the boy and his mother continued to shape the sand. She looked up briefly as the fisherman’s vehicle pulled away and headed down the road before returning to her son’s endeavors.

Only a few minutes of solitude had passed when the woman heard a soft popping sound above the rushing of the surf and faced the sound with a wand raised and ready. Three cloaked figures stood quietly about twenty feet away, looking about themselves in curiosity. The young woman moved swiftly in between these newcomers and her son.

One of the three, a young man, pushed back his hood. “Hermione… it’s great to see you,” he said. His British accent sang through the vowels clearly.

She relaxed slightly – his bright red hair and long features were unmistakable. “Ron,” Hermione answered flatly, her own accent as British as Ron’s was. “To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

The only woman amongst the three visitors also pushed back her hood, to reveal bright pink hair and a gamine face. Hermione nodded in acknowledgement of her presence, and Tonks gave her a soft smile. The last member of the group stumped over to a large piece of driftwood to slump down on and pushed his hood back only a small distance. His whirling blue eye was obviously magical, and this location was not a magically secured area.

Ron stepped forward. “The thing of it is this, Hermione, I need your help for something I’m working on. Right now actually.”

“Well that’s a fine greeting, isn’t it? Hello, Ron, how have you been? I’ve been spectacular, thank you for inquiring,” Hermione said caustically.

Ron flushed to the tips of his ears. “Sorry to be abrupt, Hermione,” he mumbled. “It’s very important, what I’m doing.”

“So important that you couldn’t be bothered with sending an owl post? There was no time to warn me that you were coming?” Hermione kept her voice soft but couldn’t hold back a hint of cold anger.

“I didn’t think you would mind,” Ron said, nonplussed. “It’s about – ,”

“Well, you thought wrong. What a surprise, hmm? And by the by, my work is very important as well, Ron, so sorry, but I really don’t think I have the time available to take off on whatever goose chase you’re on,” Hermione interrupted with a wry grimace.

Ron’s entire posture changed; she recognized it as the one he adopted whenever he was putting on his bluster. “I need your help, Hermione,” he growled.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I have obligations and responsibilities here, Ron,” Hermione said with a pointed look. “I can’t simply drop them in a heartbeat for whatever it is that you couldn’t be bothered to let me know by owl, in advance.”

The young boy grew restive and peeked around his mother to look at the people to whom she was talking. Tonks gasped in shock before covering her mouth. Ron’s eyes widened and he mouthed something that Hermione couldn’t make out. Moody showed no reaction at all.

“Mummy, who are they?” the little boy asked.

Moody reached into his pocket and pulled out a sack of candy. He motioned to Hermione to ask permission, and she nodded. “Sherbet lemon, boy?” he asked gruffly.

The child hesitated, but Hermione encouraged him softly. “It’s alright, Jamie,” she said. “Mr. Moody is a friend.”

The boy crept across the sand and finally took a candy while staring in absolute fascination at Moody’s eyes and scars. Hermione watched her son for a moment before turning back to Ron and Tonks.

Ron had gone from shock to anger. “So, this is the reason you broke off with me before you left?” he hissed.

“Anything we may have ‘had’ was long gone before I left England, Ron. Long gone before Voldemort was defeated, quite frankly, on both our parts as you will recall, so your display of outrage is not only out of line but late to the scene as well,” Hermione replied coolly.

“Oh, it was too late, all right – too late because obviously my best friends betrayed me!” Ron shouted. Jamie tore away from Moody, his green eyes bright with fear. He ran to his mother and locked his arms around her leg.

“Lower your voice!” Hermione snapped. “I won’t have you upset Jamie any more than you already have. Your intrusion into our lives is unforgivable. I want you to leave…now.”

Moody regained his feet stiffly. “Stick to the mission, Weasley,” he said to Ron. “Don’t have the time for this shilly-shallying.”

“I need you, Hermione, so whether you like it or not, you’re coming along with us,” the red-haired wizard spat.

Hermione raised a single eyebrow and stated quietly, “It would be a monumentally foolish act to try and take me against my will, Ron.”

Ron took a step forward, and all hell broke loose.

“Stop where you are! Hands up!” an unseen male voice ordered. Ron and his compatriots turned about in an effort to locate the voice. Even Moody’s famous eye couldn’t find the source. Six dark cloaked figures appeared from nowhere and pounced on the three Brits; pinioning them to the ground and seizing their wands.

Each of the six newcomers displayed an American Department of Magic emblem on the left breast of their cloaks. One of them began a brisk interrogation of Ron. Two kept Tonks and Moody splayed on the sand. The others escorted Hermione and Jamie away.

“Hermione! It’s about Harry, what we’re working on!” Tonks called out.

Hermione stopped short, and her escort paused. She signaled to the guards and Tonks was allowed to stand.

Hermione turned back and spoke to the head of the security detail who was trying to interrogate the Aurors. He shook his head twice during the exchange, but then reluctantly signaled his people to let Ron and Moody stand. The interrogator accompanied Hermione back to the three Aurors.

“You will be apparated to my home, but don’t take this to mean that I’ve agreed to go with you, Ron,” she said sharply. “My security chief is not a person to be taken lightly, and he doesn’t agree with my decision at present. Don’t give me a reason to regret trusting you again.”

Hermione turned about and returned to her young son and lifted him into her arms, before looking back at her old friends with a burning look. “Once we’re secure, then we’ll discuss your work…in detail,” she finished, the biting edge to her voice sharp enough to draw blood.

After a moment, Ron nodded glumly and did not resist when two agents took hold of his arms and disappeared. Moody was still looking about curiously at the other agents and barking questions that went unanswered, so he was a little more difficult for the pair of agents assigned to him to secure.

Tonks straightened her cloak self-consciously and stepped forward toward the remaining guards to promptly trip over a partly buried piece of driftwood.

The two remaining agents tensed, but relaxed slightly when they heard Hermione’s soft chuckle. “Oh, Tonks, not again.”

The pink haired Auror bounced back to her feet and sheepishly grinned. “Some things never change, it seems,” she countered. “Still as klutzy as ever, I’m afraid. Remus doesn’t even ask what’s happened anymore, just if I’m alright.”

The security chief muttered something under his breath and grabbed Tonks by the shoulder before disapparating silently.

The remaining agent pushed back her hood, revealing short brown hair and hazel eyes filled with mirth. “Well, I suppose you couldn’t remain the most boring duty in the Department forever,” she laughed.

Jamie crowed with delight and held out his arms to be taken by the other woman. Hermione handed her squirming son off to the other woman and gathered her book and blanket, sighing. “Oh, Carolyn… I had hoped to avoid anything like this until Jamie was older.”

“When were you hoping something like this would happen then?” Carolyn asked.

“Oh, when Jamie was in school…all right, I was thinking university at the soonest,” Hermione grumbled. Carolyn smirked at that and placed Jamie between them before nodding once and the trio disappeared silently, slowly fading away to leave the beach deserted.

Ron, Moody and Tonks were seated in her kitchen, guarded by the same agents who had brought them here. Hermione sent Jamie down to his playroom with Carolyn and steeled herself to deal with the situation.

Elias MacLaren, the security chief, was adamant about not allowing any more chances for the three to try and take Hermione. He personally knew that she could handle three opponents after all, he had trained her personally in self-defense; but his sense of duty still wanted to ensure that there were no further attempts on his watch. He was leaning silently against the doorway when Hermione arrived and gave her a single nod as she entered.

She beckoned the older man to the living room and began to negotiate for her three friends to stay without a guard. In the end, she was surprised at his willingness to agree with only the modest requests that all three would have to have their wand signatures registered, which entailed being wandless for at least a day while the wands were scanned, and that they would have to submit to anti-apparation wards attuned to the three personally.

Even more surprising was the quiet way her three visitors accepted MacLaren’s terms without comment. It indicated a level of commitment that sent a shiver of foreboding down Hermione’s spine. It was starting to look like whatever Ron and his team may have found, it might be very important, and combined with MacLaren’s unusually mild response; it was becoming clearer to her that the upper levels of the Department were more than likely informed enough regarding the information to subtly facilitate the Ministry’s representatives in their attempt to reach her.

The wands were sent off and the wards cast. MacLaren was the last to depart and a long silence fell over the four people huddled in the kitchen. Hermione filled a kettle with water and set out the makings for tea as the others observed her. With a suppressed sigh, she sat down across from Ron.

Ron was fascinated with the wood grain of the table and refused to meet Hermione’s gaze, while Moody and Tonks both split their attention between the two.

Finally, Hermione broke the silence. “You’re investigating what happened to Harry and Voldemort on that last encounter, then? I would have thought that the Ministry would have let that can of worms be buried deep in the Department of Mysteries, and burned all the maps to the location.”

The wizard refused to look up at her, and she shook her head ruefully. Still the same stubborn Gryffindor. “Tell me what you’ve found that is so important then; what have you found out that I haven’t already heard about?” She asked.

“What you haven’t heard about? How would you have heard anything at all? You haven’t been in England for more than a few days since you picked up stakes and moved here,” Ron sniped. His anger was still high as evidenced by the heat in his cheeks.

Hermione leaned back in her seat and folded her arms in front of her. “I have my sources, Ron. That’s all you need to know.”

Moody’s laugh was harsh. “I wouldn’t ask anything more if I were you. Just tell her about Malfoy’s spell already.”

Tonks backed up the older man with a sharp nod when Ron glanced at her before turning back to Hermione.

“We got a few pieces of a created spell that has never been seen before. Most of the Ministry’s Unspeakables are flummoxed by it. I need to know what some of the bits do or say, and you’re the best I know at Ancient Runes,” Ron said.

Tonks pulled a scrap of parchment from her bag and pushed it toward Hermione.

Hermione took the parchment and examined it intently. The formula fragment was amazingly complex and deeply layered. She could almost see the different strands of overlapping magic woven into the equation.

“Malfoy couldn’t have come up with this,” Hermione said dismissively. “So who did?”

Ron quirked his eyebrow, surprised for an instant before shaking his head ruefully. “I keep forgetting who you are and what you can do…the fragment was delivered from an address in Croatia. It took the better part of three months to track the sender; Kresimir Miroslav.”

Hermione’s eyebrows arched. “Miroslav? Are you certain?”

“The slimy git is a hard one to get a hold of, that’s for certain,” Tonks snorted. “We managed to “detain” him and verify that he sent the fragment. It seems that he didn’t receive his final payment from Malfoy, and to stir up trouble, he tried to set the Ministry wolves on his client’s heels anonymously.”

Hermione looked thoughtful as Ron took over the narrative. “He’s hinted at some disturbing things when we questioned him. Namely that Voldemort isn’t likely to be dead at all; that he was planning something big that required the draining of several witches and wizards of their innate magic. Remember the twelve bodies they recovered from Little Hangleton just before we destroyed the Orrery?”

Hermione’s lips flattened as she nodded. Ron hesitated then for a long moment, his face reflecting both regret and anger before continuing.

“The Voldemort-isn’t-dead comment alone has the current Minister of Magic almost jumping at his own shadow,” Ron said flatly. “It’s bumped up the priority of my ‘personal investigation’ into what really happened to Harry during the final encounter with Voldemort several notches. The Minister doesn’t want to be caught looking like another Fudge, so he’s taking this information seriously and wants to know if there is any truth in it.”

Tonks sighed and shook her head. Moody just grabbed his belt flask and took a long swig of its contents. Hermione got the impression neither of the pair bought into the paranoia of the Minister.

“The level of the runic magics is deemed to be especially high, and the resources of the Department of Mysteries are still depleted from Voldemort’s last assault on the Ministry. I have the only researcher capable of translating and interpreting the other parts of the spell, and she recommended bringing this to you for your analysis and to request your assistance,” Ron shot her a hopeful glance.

Hermione was rather impressed by Ron’s recitation. It was unlike him to be so concise as well as knowledgeable about things outside of chess or Quidditch to her recall. She supposed that she wasn’t the only one who had changed in the four years since they had lost Harry and went their separate ways.

Hermione turned back to the parchment and after a long moment, she pushed it back to Tonks. “I can’t say much about it at present, other than to tell you that it’s a complex bit of work. Without the elements that belong on either side of this fragment… well, this could mean several different things. I don’t see how I can help you. There are more than enough capable freelance Rune Interpreters in Europe that the Ministry can tap, so have them take this apart for you.” Tonks looked distressed at Hermione’s refusal, while Moody remained inscrutable.

“We have quite a bit of the work salvaged from Malfoy’s estate, but Miroslav told us that this section was the ‛most critical part of the abstraction’. But if it’s too much for you to figure out…,” he trailed off meaningfully.

Hermione smiled thinly as she shook her head. “Nice try. It’s not a question of the importance of the section that’s the issue; it’s the context, Ron. I would need everything that you have regarding the spell, front and back. This fragment is useless without the rest.”

Ron looked mutinous for a moment. “Can’t you at least take a crack at it?”

“I have work of my own to accomplish here, Ron. I can’t simply put it aside for something as ephemeral as this quest of yours. Frankly, why should I?” Hermione answered.

“Because it’s for Harry!” Ron spat. “Because we owe it to him to find out what happened to him. I shouldn’t need to remind you of that! He was our best friend, or have you forgotten that?”

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment. “Not a day goes by that I don’t think of him, Ron. You, of all people, should understand that implicitly now.”

Ron’s cheeks flushed a bit as he snapped his mouth shut and glowered. Hermione was a bit surprised that he left the subject so readily. It wasn’t like him to be so temperate any more than it was for him to be so confident in his recitation of facts.

Moody leaned back in his chair with a foot propped against the table leg. His appearance was more than relaxed than Tonks or Ron, which brought a question to Hermione’s mind.

“Professor – er, Mr. Moody, I thought you were retired from the Aurors corps? Why are you here, if I may ask?”

Moody’s magical eye ceased spinning for a moment and focused with his normal eye. “Hmph, was recalled for this operation. Question of contacts and experience,” he muttered before raising his flask to take another swig.

The whistle of the teapot on the stove cut through the quiet that fell after Moody’s reply and Hermione left the table to fetch the tea service.

That evening dragged for Hermione. The uncomfortable atmosphere lingered from the earlier conversation and even Jamie’s sunny nature caused no lightening of the tension. Her guests had set loose some of the ghosts from her past and she felt their chilly presence in back of her mind.

Hermione knew that Jamie enjoyed company and new things to interact with and felt more than a touch guilty; there had been little time for such in their lives of late. That would have to change for Jamie’s sake, she promised herself.

Tonks was the most at ease with the little boy, and happily changed her features and hair colors at Jamie’s whim, while Moody was distant for the most part, and shrugged off Jamie’s fascination with his appearance. The older man’s changeless demeanor and appearance provoked Hermione to wonder if he ever changed or would simply expire someday in the same trench coat and dragon leather pants. Ron had been short, and said little to either Hermione or her son, and Jamie kept his distance from the red-headed Auror in response.

Sending her guests off to bed was a relief for Hermione, even though that meant it was time to get Jamie bathed and into bed. On the best of days, that was a challenge; at the end of an over-stimulated day, it was positively Herculean. After two rounds of chasing around the townhouse, a very wet escape from the tub, three bedtime stories, a glass of milk, and indecision about which stuffed animal was now his favorite, Jamie at last fell asleep.

Hermione felt like she’d been trampled by a herd of hippogriffs and wanted nothing more than to sleep as soundly as her son. Instead she found herself sitting at the dining room table, trying to pull secrets from a tattered bit of parchment.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Any characters or situations that are unknown in the HP series are the author's intellectual property and should not be used without permission.

Author’s Note: This story is not canon-compliant, and certainly not Epilogue compliant. While some elements of existing canon may be maintained, this is AU from Book 5 onward.

Chapter Two

Hermione’s Townhome, Bethesda, MD

It was heading past midmorning when the first of Hermione’s unexpected house guests filtered down the stairs. Jamie had already watched his chosen children's programme, eaten breakfast, put on several outfits of different color combinations not found in nature before Hermione put her foot down, and piled into Carolyn's minivan for a playdate with the children of some of her Department of Magic colleagues.

Hermione would have enjoyed the quiet with a book or her secret passion, classic old movies, but today found her back at the dining room table with her quills and notes, puzzling over this obscure piece of runic magic.

Tonks peeked around the doorjamb and caught Hermione’s eye before entering. “Wotcher, Hermione,” she said wonderingly. “Please tell me you didn’t stay up all night with this.”

Hermione turned back to the section she had been reading previously and merely shrugged. “Your wands were returned and are on the kitchen table, Tonks, and there’s some oatmeal on the stove. You understand how a microwave works?”

Tonks looked amazed. “A Microwave? How do you ever manage to stop from blowing it up?” Her hair flashed through several color changes as she headed into the kitchen. “My dad blew up his and set fire to the kitchen at home. Always wanted to try one of these out for myself.”

Hermione’s attention, while compromised, was forcefully pulled back to the fact that Tonks was loose in her kitchen when the keypad sounds drew out for a longer than normal time. She dropped the book and hurried after the Auror.

Managing to heat the cereal without incident after instructing Tonks in the basics of microwave operation, Hermione heard the two men descending the stairs. With a sigh, she placed the two other bowls into the unit to heat and plucked the milk and orange juice containers from the countertop to place them in the center of the table.

The men greeted her quietly and sat down at the table with Tonks. The microwave dinged, causing Moody to snap to attention and snap up his wand. Hermione raised her hand and gestured and the wand went sailing across the table into her grasp.

“I’d prefer not to have to get my microwave repaired,” she said dryly. “It’s expensive.”

Moody eyed her askance. “How’d ya do that, huh? It’s charmed against summoning.”

Hermione’s expression remained inscrutable as she handed the warm bowls out. “You should eat before it gets cool.”

She returned to her research, hearing the soft whispering behind her but not caring enough to listen to it. The fragment’s mysteries were absorbing most of her focus at present.

The runes seemed to contradict in intention in the middle of the sequence, but Hermione saw that there was a clever balancing act that was actually being pulled off. The result would have been a stabilization of magical energy flow from a source to a target.

She was writing down her insights as Ron pulled out the opposite chair and sat down with his bowl of oatmeal. With an emphatic flourish, she punctuated the final line and looked up at her visitor.

“So, will you survive?” Hermione asked.

“Survive?” Ron was puzzled.

“On these starvation rations,” she motioned towards his bowl. “Not exactly what you’re used to for breakfast.”

He just shrugged, and glanced at her notes. She wondered why he was bothering to look at them upside down; after all, he likely wouldn’t understand them even if he read them right-side up.

“Did you find something?” He asked softly.

Hermione was taken aback. She’d expected a demand for information as had been Ron’s wont during school and the Horcrux hunt.

“Power regulation is a part of this sequence, that’s what I’ve determined so far,” she answered. With a tilt of her head, she fixed a direct look on him.

“Why don’t you have Miroslav interpret his own work for you?” she asked pointedly.

Ron looked disconcerted and then seemed to decide on honesty. “Miroslav had a contingency if anyone tried to force information from him regarding the work.”

“Contingency? What sort of contingency?”

“A limited obliviate,” Ron muttered.

“Limited? In what way?”

“He managed to wipe his memory about the specifics of the sequence, and the precise result of the research but left himself a timed note to remind him later of what to send us if Malfoy didn’t pay up.”

“So he wiped his memory about the spell several years ago?” Hermione’s eyes narrowed. Likely that was the only reason why Miroslav was still alive at this point. She could see the logic in allowing the wizard to live as a possible resource for the future after this particular safeguard was undertaken. Magical reintegration of the memory engrams after a year was spotty at best and after five years, there wouldn’t be anything that could likely be done at all to retrieve the lost information.

“Still, what I said yesterday is valid,” she continued. “Why not use the Department of Mysteries resources to pull this apart? They aren’t that under strength any more.”

Ron looked shifty for a moment. “Can’t I get the best in the world to help?”

“You don’t expect me to swallow that whopper, do you?” Hermione gave him a pointed look. “There are several witches and wizards in my department alone who are just as good as I am, if not even better in theoretical runes. In Europe alone I could name six others of equal skill and more distinguished portfolios.”

Discomfited, the lanky red-headed Auror shifted in his seat, his eyes fixed on the congealing oatmeal cooling his bowl.

“Ron,” Hermione put down her quill. “Our last meeting was bloody awful to say the least. What you’ve learned about my life here with Jamie certainly wouldn’t make you feel any better about it. Why are you here?”

Ron blew out a deep breath. “I wanted to mend frames with you.”

“Frames?” She looked puzzled for a moment. “I think you mean fences, Ron.”

He looked up at that with a scowl. “Frames, fences, same thing really; I thought that enough time’s passed and we should re-evaluate our relationship and friendship.”

Something in how he phrased his reason echoed eerily in Hermione’s mind for a moment. This wasn’t something Ron would have come up with all on his own.

As she picked up her quill and set back to work, Hermione remained silent as Ron picked at the cereal without much enthusiasm. He kept glancing up from the bowl, but she did not meet his gaze.

**********

The sound of the television changing channels in the living room was interspersed with the occasional interjection or complaint from one of the watchers. Hermione for the most part tuned them out, and was glad for the time alone to ponder over the intricacies of the spell fragment she was investigating.

The arithmantic equations indicated a large flow of input energy and a strange inversion of the rune Ingwaz into Dagaz in the fulcrum, but then the energy notations didn’t balance on the other side. Where was the energy going to? She wondered.

The front door slammed open and a small whirlwind with messy black hair swept into the dining room. Hermione grunted under the impact and lifted Jamie up into her lap. When the expected happy prattle about games and treats didn’t materialize, Hermione tried to lift Jamie’s face to see what was wrong with her son.

He fought her, burying his face against her breast. His silent sobs shook his shoulders and Hermione looked up as Carolyn entered the room with a disgusted look.

“What’s going on, Carolyn?” Hermione asked sharply.

“Lois’ son, Connor, was being especially nasty today,” The security witch answered. “When Jamie was showing his picture book, Connor called him a liar for saying that his father is Harry Potter.”

Hermione inhaled angrily. “My son is not a liar, unless Connor would like to call me one as well,” she spat.

Jamie raised his head at that and his tear-streaked misery tore at Hermione. “Connor said he’s dead, Mum! Harry Potter’s dead!”

Hermione blanched. They had not discussed Harry beyond saying that he was “gone”, and now Jamie was paying a harsh price for that. The little boy grabbed the dropped play bag and pulled out the picture book. Hermione exchanged a questioning look with Carolyn.

“That rotten little bully was making fun of Jamie, saying that his real dad mustn’t have liked him and run off before Jamie was born. It was pretty awful, and several of the other mothers are talking to his mother,” The security officer checked her wristwatch quickly. “I’d say she’s getting an earful right about now, actually.”

The picture book was Harry’s photo album, one of the few things Hermione had to remember him, and she had given it to Jamie when he began to ask about his father. The little boy stopped at the picture of Harry sitting next to the grimy library window in Grimmauld Place and held it up for his mother. She lifted the little boy to her lap for a cuddle, but Jamie’s body remained tense.

It was the picture she had taken and given to Colin to develop at the end of what should have been their seventh year. Hermione smoothed the little dog ear at the top of the photo, and watched as Harry looked away from the window to follow the movement of her hand.

“Who said you weren’t Harry’s son?” The question was hard and angry and Hermione turned to see Ron’s face matched his tone perfectly.

Jamie looked around his mother’s shoulder and mumbled, “Connor said so.”

Ron came around the table and knelt down beside Hermione’s chair. “Well, he’s wrong,” he answered slowly.

“Why?” Jamie’s plaintive question hurt Hermione. He shouldn’t have this level of doubt in what he was being told. What else had gone on today?

“Because I was with your dad when he was fighting against Voldemort, same as your mum,” Ron placed a hand on Jamie’s shoulder, very man-to-man. That her son accepted the touch was a surprise to Hermione, but she could feel the undercurrent of emotions and knew Ron was serious and concerned for Harry’s son.

Jamie laid his head down on Hermione’s shoulder. “You were with my dad?”

“Yeah, I was,” The red-haired wizard nodded solemnly. “He is my best mate, and a brother in all but blood.”

Hermione closed her eyes against the pain Ron’s answer provoked. The hole of Harry’s absence was still agonizing even after all the years that had passed. Now she recognized that her suffering wasn’t singular.

“You look just like your dad, you know,” Ron continued, his voice strained. “And he’s not dead, just lost.”

“Lost?” Jamie asked.

“Yup, a friend told me so,” Ron replied. “And I trust her like you trust your mum.”

That was the first time Hermione had heard of such a thing and she almost snapped back a sharp rebuttal of Ron for leading Jamie to hope for something that couldn’t be, but stopped when he raised his eyes. The determination and belief was clear in his glance; Ron did truly believe Harry was still alive.

What if Harry was alive? What would that mean for her and Jamie? Conflicting thoughts and emotions flooded through her, too many to process. In self-defense, Hermione focused on the runes before her to crowd out the confusion and unbidden, hope rose against her better judgment.

If the work Miroslav did was the key to find out if Harry was possibly alive, then she would follow the hunt to whatever conclusion. Her love for Harry, and for Harry’s son, demanded nothing less from her.

“Well, I need more than just this fragment,” She said quietly, changing the topic of discussion sharply. “I need all the pieces you have, Ron…and Miroslav as well.”

Carolyn’s head jerked sharply in her direction and she raised a questioning eyebrow.

Hermione shifted Jamie on her lap and kissed his forehead. “How would you like to go see Grandfather and Grandmum, love?”

**********

The following morning Hermione made a formal request for leave of absence to travel to England with Ron and his team to assist their investigation.

To say that she was a bit miffed when she received confirmation of her requested time off within fifteen minutes of submitting said request was putting it lightly. Everyone in the chain of command above her was obviously well informed and had already made arrangements to do without her managing her section.

To place the cherry on top of the sundae, Hermione was given off the rest of the afternoon to pack for the flight back to Great Britain.

By the Department’s private jet, no less.

This was really starting to feel like a cattle chute move with plausible deniability from her superiors, and she briefly considered confronting them about the situation. But just as she made the decision to go “discuss” this with her boss and how she felt pressured by their actions, her star researcher popped his head in the office door.

“Word at the water cooler grapevine has it that you’re going off to Britain for a spell? What’s up?” With a raised eyebrow and a humorous glint in his blue eyes, Daniel Silvas displayed his normal charm and good nature.

“You heard right, of course, the track record of the office grapevine would make the local Quodpot bookies envious of the accuracy,” Hermione replied with a small smile.

Daniel cocked his head at that. “Still, you don’t usually travel, boss, so is something going on?”

Hermione shook her head once. She was not going to discuss the work with anyone at this point.

Silvas took the cue, and instead inquired about the current project he was working on and to whom he should report any findings. Hermione designated her second-in-command, Enid Skald as the admin go-to person, and put Daniel in charge of his research group to assist Enid, whose workload would be doubled during Hermione’s absence.

As he stood up to leave, he gave Hermione a serious look. “If there’s anything I can do, you know where to find me, boss. Maria will skin you alive if you don’t let us know if you need anything, mi hermana, so for your sake and mine, don’t hesitate, ok?”

Emotion blocked Hermione’s voice, so she just nodded. Daniel had become a close friend from the beginning when she’d first come to the United States and the Department of Magic. When Maria, Daniel’s wife, had learned that Hermione was pregnant and alone with no husband or family to help her during the pregnancy, she promptly showed up on Hermione’s doorstep and “adopted” the younger woman into her family; helping with chores and cooking, visiting regularly to check on her and right down to being Hermione’s LeMaz coach for Jamie’s birth.

The rest of the morning went by quickly as she readied her division for her absence. Hermione never really got a handle on how much the division was really doing until these times when she was going to be out of the loop for a while. It was one reason she hated to take vacations, because she would have to play catch up for almost the same amount of time that she had taken off after she returned.

Carolyn, alerted by her superiors, showed up just as Hermione returned to the townhouse to pick up Jamie for an impromptu excursion to the National Aquarium with her three children for the afternoon.

With a grateful hug, Hermione accepted the invitation, packed up Jamie’s small backpack with two of his favorite books, a couple toys and a sack lunch in a magically reinforced container that kept it cool as well, and sent her son off while she packed for the both of them.

Normally, she wouldn’t have resorted to subterfuge to get the job done, but the flight to Great Britain would leave at 6:15 pm and Hermione simply couldn’t afford the time spent wrangling over how much of Jamie’s toy collection would be making the trip to his grandparents.

Her three houseguests were already ready to leave, though Ron and Moody both were visibly nervous when Hermione informed them that they would be flying to London that evening. Jamie was too young for a portkey or side-along apparition at that distance, so the two men understood the reasoning, but still attempted to squirm out of accompanying her and Jamie via aircraft.

When Ron asked about how they had transported Jamie from the beach that day if it hadn’t been apparation, Hermione just gave a little smile. “Sorry, but that’s classified, Ron.”

Tonks restrained her laughter with a hand clapped across her mouth behind the two male Aurors as Hermione heard and disregarded their suggestions and reasons why they should to go ahead and prepare for her arrival. She had to give them credit for persistence and creativity, but finally cut the discussion short.

“I will not be traveling with a security squad as per agreement with the Ministry to keep your project discreet, and in light of that, my superiors and I feel that you and your team are adequate replacements for my normal detail, Ron, is there a problem with that?” Hermione arched her eyebrows and stared the redhead into silence.

The three made themselves scarce after that, likely to avoid the packing detail, and for her own part, Hermione was relieved to be alone for a bit to focus on the task and not her emotions as much.

Her even-keeled life was being upset once more, and again the cause was Harry Potter.

***********

Carolyn dropped Jamie off at 4:30 that afternoon, and Hermione hustled her tired son into the bathtub with ruthless advantage. Within a half-hour, Jamie was clean, dressed and in the living room watching his cartoons and picking at a sandwich and a glass of juice. Hermione knew the boy was exhausted, but knew that he could nap on the plane and sleep hard later at his grandparents.

At 5:15, the Department limo pulled up and the group moved their bags into the trunk, and they were off to the private tarmac at Dulles.

The driver pulled out all the magical stops to avoid traffic and made it to the airport in under a half-hour, and the Department’s flight crew greeting them at the foot of a sleek private jet, gleaming under the airport spotlights as dusk fell.

The British aurors goggled at the craft. Hermione smiled at their bemusement and then waved them to mount the stairs and enter as she picked up Jamie to carry him up.

Tonks led the way, and looked in danger of hurting her neck with the way she was craning it about. Moody followed her, his posture straight and head up. His head didn’t move, but Hermione was sure his magical eye was spinning in all directions.

Ron hesitantly stepped up to the stairs and gingerly began to climb. He got more confident as he ascended and nothing bad happened to him, she supposed. With a weary sigh, Hermione started up, muffling a laugh as she heard Ron’s voice exclaim.

“Blimey! What my dad wouldn’t do to see this!”

The interior of the jet was luxurious with paneled walls, leather seating and tables spaced comfortably around the cabin. The small companionway at the rear of the cabin lead off further to the back where there was a bedroom, galley and bathrooms. The three aurors stood around and watched as Hermione picked the leather loveseat and sank into it with a grateful sigh.

Jamie was fading fast, and Hermione made him comfortable on the seat with a pillow and light throw across his legs. The three aurors had chosen to perch on the three facing seats opposite her and marveled at the plane.

Of course, Hermione also knew that the plane wasn’t precisely “muggle-only” equipped either. Instead of the normal 7 to 7.5 hour flight, the actual time would be closer to 2.5 hours. Besides, it was a customized Gulfstream-550 jet with full amenities.

This newest model Gulfstream wasn’t even fully approved for general production by the FAA yet, but the Department had three completed and magically hardened for use already. The planes were magically enhanced and hardened so only a simple glamour was needed to hide the actual cutting edge design from casual observers.

Hermione’s team was responsible in large part for the magic-muggle interfacing process; she had no problems in accepting the offer of the jet to make the trip to Heathrow. She felt a sense of proprietorship regarding the planes; they were some of the first of their kind with little to no need to shield magical energy from the systems on board.

The jet engines were “boosted” magically and shielded like the avionics and electronics systems against possible magical emissions or directed hostile spells that could disable or disrupt them. All-in-all, the plane was a perfect hybridization of human and technological magic in a single package.

The pilot came back to speak with Hermione for a moment after take-off, confirming that the flight would be at top speed and that her parents had confirmed that they would be at Heathrow waiting on their arrival.

She thanked the man and leaned her head back against the leather seat. As the pilot returned to the cockpit, Hermione was slightly disturbed to realize he’d had told her his name, but now she couldn’t remember it. Her frown still creased her forehead as she dropped into an uneasy sleep.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Any characters or situations that are unknown in the HP series are the author's intellectual property and should not be used without permission.

Author's Note: This story is not canon-compliant, and certainly not Epilogue compliant. While some elements of existing canon may be maintained, this is AU from Book 5 onward.

*******

Chapter Three

London, GB

The scream of the landing gear wheels on tarmac woke Hermione, not because of its sound alone, but because of dissonant blend it made coupled with Ron's shriek of alarm. He sat with his hands clenched into claws into the arms of his seat. Moody cocked his head and shook it slowly while Tonks reached across and smacked Ron in the back of the head to shut him up.

“Bloody hell, riding in this metal thingie, no brooms… if there's something that goes wrong, can't see a blasted thing outside, going to be the death of me…” Ron began muttering, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Ron…”

“No, really, we're going to die when this thing falls out of the sky,” he grumbled, reinforcing his grip on the chair. Tonks snorted at his actions and rolled her eyes at Hermione.

“Ronald…”

“Oh, like you care now, eh? Well, just you wait, this contraption won't make over the ocean, I know it, we'll be cast adrift for sure,” Ron shook his head as the plane shuddered against the brakes and decelerated.

“Ronald!” Hermione said in a deadly tone.

Ron jerked to attention and looked at his friend. His complexion was pasty white which made his freckles stand out sharply. She felt a flash of pity for Ron was truly frightened by this experience, but enough was enough. He'd wake Jamie soon if he kept at it.

“We've just landed, you prat,” She said.

The next half-hour was a blur of motion and sounds. They debarked from the plane to find Hermione's parents waiting there with an attaché by the name of Kernes from the American Embassy, Department of Magic division. The group was bundled into the magically expanded Mercedes and into the center of the city.

“Dr. Granger,” The attaché turned in the front seat to hand Hermione an official looking envelope that she took without ceremony. The man was middle-aged, slightly receding hairline and plain appearance with his non-descript gray business suit, and he blended into the background eerily. She suspected that a magical charm enhanced that type of invisibility. “The Assistant Secretary sends her regards.”

“Thank the Secretary for me,” Hermione responded politely, while imagining all sorts of mayhem against her superior.

The diplomat flinched back for a moment, his strangely piercing light-colored eyes meeting hers fully for the first time.

Great, a passive legilimencer, Hermione thought to herself and slammed her mental shields down. The man acknowledged the rebuff with a small nod and smile. Probably sees a lot worse than my little dreams of revenge against my not-so-benign dictatorial bitch of a boss.

Hermione's parents had taken charge of Jamie, who was sleepily happy to held and cosseted by them. Hermione glanced over at the three of them and smiled. Jamie would soon have them fetching and carrying for his every whim, the little tyrant.

“The Ministry has requested a formal meeting to greet you, Dr. Granger,” the man continued. “We are taking you to meet the Minister of Magic now.”

Hermione's head jerked up at that. “Right now?” She queried incredulously.

“Yes, Dr. Granger, the Minister wanted to greet you in a proper fashion as soon as possible. He understands that your time is limited and is best applied to the project at hand.”

“Fine, I will meet with the Minister,” She glanced around at her Auror crew and found that they were equally surprised by this fact. “Just let us off at the Ministry and let my parents and son continue on into Oxfordshire and …”

As the car turned into a side alley, a sudden light struck the vehicle and the red robes of Aurors were interspersed amongst the dark robes of Ministry officials. The crowd was substantial, and as the car halted, the door was flung open and two bulky Aurors stood at the attention.

Jamie, curious about the doings outside the car, popped his head up and looked out at the men before Hermione could stop him. A choked off gasp sounded from someone in the crowd beyond and Hermione jumped into full, protective mode.

Reaching into the front seat of vehicle, she grasped Kernes by his lapels and pulled him back to whisper harshly into his ear. “You will see my son and my parents to their home and make sure you're not followed, by any means necessary. This is a code Electrum order, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, ma'am!” He gasped out. The whites of his eyes were clearly visible and he pulled at his collar desperately. Hermione released him and signaled for the Aurors to precede her out of the car.

She'd barely stepped out when the door slammed and the car sped off into the darkness. Hermione smiled inwardly, she really did appreciate efficient bureaucrats at times.

*******

Around 5:00 am GMT, Hermione finally opened her parent's front door and bid her friends good night. They were staying in the spare room for the moment which would be expanded as needed. They were being spelled for a short time by another team commanded by, of all people, Seamus Finnegan.

They had secured the property in the best of several ways, both Muggle and Magical, and with a full Auror team watching outside as well. Such precautions would have reassured most, but Hermione felt the absence of her security detail keenly, especially Carolyn.

The house was quiet, Jamie would be down and sleeping off the worst of his exhaustion, and she knew her parents kept country hours now that they had retired from active practice, so she took off her shoes in the foyer and crept into the lounge room. Jamie would likely wake early, so that would mean a short night for Hermione.

The moon was waxing and shone through the large bay window with its sheer drapes; a bright beam of light fell upon the open photo album and across the photo of Harry in the Grimmauld Place library. Hermione pulled the curtain aside to stare out into the darkness and let old memories surface …

It was into late May of what would have, should have, been their seventh year at Hogwarts. Despite all obstacles, three of the missing four horcruxes had been destroyed and they had stayed just one step ahead of their enemy.

If only they knew how to escape from themselves for a while.

The day was dreary; overcast skies combined with the grimy windows of Grimmauld shed little light inside the place. Hermione climbed the stairs balancing a sandwich plate and a cup of tea in one hand and a book in the other. Ron followed behind, levitating his and Harry's plates with his wand.

“I don't see why you're carrying those,” Ron smirked and made his plate revolve around Harry's for a turn or two. “You're of age you know, so why wouldn't you use magic?”

Hermione sighed. “Not all of life is about magic, Ron.”

They reached the library door and Hermione waited on Ron to open the door for her. He made a production of throwing open the creaky wooden door and bowing her into the room. She just snorted and stepped inside without comment.

Harry sat near one of the long, thin windows in a decrepit leather reading chair that looked near ready to collapse into splinters and dust. He sat with his legs drawn up and didn't move as the other pair entered.

“Oy, Harry,” Ron called, and with a wiggle and flick, sent Harry's sandwich and drink across the room to settle on the central reading table. The flick was a little too strong, and the drink wobbled, dangerously close to tipping before Ron caught the spell back. A few droplets of pumpkin juice dotted the dull wood as the glass settled.

The black-haired wizard looked up with a bit of a start. `Hey, you two,” he replied.

“Come and eat something, Harry,” Hermione motioned him to the table.

They settled to the meal with small talk of the weather, and Ron's eating habits, but all three were pretending that things were halfway normal. Hermione could feel the boys' tension as much as her own.

They had only one more Horcrux to discover, just one, but the clues to the object's location had dried up. The sense of failure was galling, though she knew that she was doing all she could, but Hermione still fretted almost hourly.

Harry had become more and more withdrawn as the hunt progressed. Ron thought it was because he was missing Ginny, but Hermione knew from her letters with the Weasley girl, Harry wasn't writing. It was becoming almost scary to be around the young wizard.

It wasn't the training that he forced himself to do or the amount of spellwork and other magical training that Harry was gaining at a staggering pace that frightened her. It was the fatalistic look that hovered in his eyes continuously now.

Harry was working toward the fight against Voldemort, true, but he didn't expect to survive it.

It brought home how much of a price might need to be paid for victory, and she felt small and powerless when she was alone with her thoughts. Death wasn't a reality to her before, just an abstract thing that other people went through, but something that didn't affect her. Until now.

After a few hours of research, Hermione took the dishes down to the kitchen while Ron went up his room on the third floor for a kip. It was on the way back up that she spied the camera that Fred had lent them, and so she crept up and got Harry with the candid shot.

She never let on that she'd taken a photograph of him that day. By the time she could get Colin to develop it, Harry was already gone. And the price of triumph was just starting to come due.

Hermione shook herself out of reverie. Looking back now from where she stood, she knew precisely why it had bothered and consumed her mind during that last year. Ron and she had mutually decided to put their own burgeoning relationship on hold to help Harry, but while Ron was able to return back to that beginning, Hermione found the nascent emotions she'd had were gone.

Part of that diminishment was from the irrational disappointment with the ease that Ron shelved their relationship in the first place. They had both agreed that Harry's needs were more important at the outset, and Voldemort had to be defeated first before they could all be safe enough to worry about regular things.

The other factor was the change that had happened within her. And the choices that change had influenced. Enough ancient history, Hermione, she thought.

She dropped the curtain and turned to go up the stairs.

******

Hermione was surprised to be able to wake up on her own around 11 am, which would put her near her normal sleeping schedule of 5 am EST in the States.

She showered quickly, dressed in casual slacks and jumper set with soft leather flats and headed to the quiet downstairs. For a moment, Hermione entertained the idea that Jamie had possibly driven his grandparents to death, but muffled laughter and jubilant cries sounded from the backyard.

She grabbed half a bagel that lay on a plate on the kitchen bar and headed outside to find Jamie flying around the backyard on a broom.

Sudden adrenaline shot through her system and she barely restrained a scream of protest. Hermione's mother, who had caught sight of her first, seemed to recognize her daughter's distress and moved quickly to her side.

“Easy, love, Jamie found the old school broom in the attic with your Hogwarts trunk and insisted on bringing out. Your friend caught him just as he made it fly, and magicked it to fly slow and low to the ground.” Katherine Granger kept her voice pitched low so only Hermione could hear her clearly.

Anger chilled in surprise. “Jamie made it go? By himself?”

“Yes, dear,” Katherine turned to look back with Hermione as Jamie maneuvered the broom about with confidence. “Your friend Ron was as surprised as you, I daresay.”

Ron was standing in the circle of Jamie's flight and was watching the young boy intently. Tonks was patrolling beyond near the edge of the property and was glancing back once and awhile, but she was too far away for Hermione to discern her expression. There was no sign of Moody and knowing the older auror's usual penchant for security, she didn't expect to see him.

Ron caught sight of her standing on the steps and motioned for her to come and join him. She frowned for a moment, still wanting to communicate her discomfort at this activity, and his expression changed to indicate more than a touch of desperation.

Hermione took pity on him and headed across the lawn to join the red-haired wizard as Jamie took another circle around, crowing with delight.

“Merlin's beard, Hermione,” Ron said excitedly in a low voice. “He's flying a broom and he's only three!”

“And what about this activity is a good idea?” She hissed back.

Ron looked taken aback for a moment. “I understand that you're not happy about the flying, Hermione, but do you realize what this means?”

“That he can be followed and pursued by people who consider him special or a freak of nature, to be poked and prodded by the idly curious and the downright malicious?” Hermione's voice rose sharply. “There's already a chance that they'll find out who his father is, Ron!”

Jamie heard his mother's last statement and guided the broom over to her. “Look, Mummy, I'm flying!”

His happy expression began to fade as he saw his mother's set face. Hermione closed her eyes for a moment and summoned as much calm as she could. Jamie's achievement was incredible, and as for the flying, she knew that he came by the skill honestly from Harry.

“Yes, I see, you're flying on a broom,” she said sweetly. “And it's nearly luncheon time, so just a few more turns for you before we go in, young man.”

The little boy hesitated and then headed off again. He cast glances back at his mother, anxious for a bit before he relaxed back into his flying.

“Stars, he looks so much like…”

“Stop right there,” Hermione said sotto voce. “Don't even think that!”

Ron turned to her with his hands on his hips. “He's Harry's son, Hermione, how can I not think he's like his father?”

“He's James, James Granger-Potter,” she said sharply. “He is not his father reincarnated.”

Ron let out a rude noise at that. “I know that, Hermione.”

“Do you?” she replied, her eyes on her tiny son, perched on a broom that dwarfed him. She had only tolerated flying on brooms throughout her school years. “I wonder, because you didn't tell me you were looking to find Harry alive.”

“What's that supposed to mean, eh?” He snapped back.

“What if Harry isn't alive? Have you considered that?” Hermione looked up into his blue eyes and held the stare. “Does Jamie suddenly become a surrogate Harry Potter for you and others?”

“I can't believe you!” Ron shouted, startling Jamie into falling off the broom. The little boy picked himself up without a cry however and dashed back to his mother.

“Don't yell at Mummy!” he cried as he threw his arms around Hermione's leg.

She knelt down and broke her son's grip, pulling him up and against her hip. Jamie clung tightly, his frown fretful as he looked back and forth between the adults.

“It's alright, Jamie,” she murmured. “Ron and I were just having a disagreement.”

“No yelling,” Jamie said, waving a finger in admonishment. “It's not nice.”

Hermione smiled at hearing her words echoed back to her. “That's right, it's not nice. I'm sorry, Ron,” She turned to the man beside her and widened her eyes tellingly.

Ron looked annoyed for a moment, then grudgingly responded. “Yeah, I'm sorry as well.”

The little boy smiled happily at him and then struggled to be let down. “Down, Mummy, please?” Hermione put him down and he raced back to where the broom had landed.

“Up!” Jamie said loudly.

The broom jumped into the air and hovered at the little boy's hand, just like for his father eleven years ago at Hogwarts. God, if I can't keep them straight, how can I expect anyone else to do so? Hermione thought.

Mrs. Granger called from the kitchen doorway. “Come along, you lot, let's eat.”

Jamie scrambled reluctantly from the broom when Hermione reinforced her mother's request and carried the broom as the boy tripped up the steps and into the kitchen. Once out of sight, she handed the broom to Ron brusquely.

“Take this with you, and don't bring it back until I tell you to do so.”

Ron angrily took the broom from her. “What are you playing at, Hermione? He's a wizard after all.”

“Wizard, yes, but in his own time and choosing, Ron,” she answered firmly. “He will have the choices that his father was never given for as long as I draw breath. He won't be used as a pawn in someone else's grand plan for the greater good.”

Ron stopped dead at that, and Hermione felt his eyes on her as she mounted the stairs and disappeared into the house.

******

After luncheon, Hermione dressed in one of her normal business suits topped with her loose midnight blue Department of Magic robes. On the left hand shoulder was the white and gold patch with the rampant eagle with a crossed laurel branch and wand. Hermione brushed over the patch, brushing at non-existent lint and straightened the shoulder drape.

She set her wand in its holster on her left arm, checked her gold watch, and closed her attaché case with a snap to place it beside the door. The rumble of voices and footsteps drew her back into the kitchen.

Jamie was running excitedly around the kitchen table, chasing a toy magic dragon that belched fire and roared in a tinny voice. Tonks carefully directed the toy in a clear path and the Grangers looked on with fond amusement. Hermione moved to her mother's side and leaned down.

“I'm sorry to leave you with Jamie like this, Mum,” she sighed.

Katherine looked up. “Never you mind that, love, we're happy to have any chance to have Jamie with us. We miss you both terribly between visits.”

The little boy caught the dragon and rushed around the table to show his catch off to his mother, who dutifully admired it before lifting him to her hip.

“Grandfather and Grandmum are going to take you to the Zoo today while I do some work, you'll be good for them, won't you?” Hermione brushed her nose against her son's and Jamie gave a giggle.

Ron stepped into the kitchen then and nodded to Hermione.

“I have to go now, so I'll see you later at dinner,” She kissed Jamie's forehead and hugged him before setting him on his feet. Tonks waved her wand and sent the dragon flying once more and Jamie was quick to pursue.

Hermione followed Ron out of the kitchen, retrieved her bag and left the house. They walked for a bit down the sidewalk until they reached a small side alley. Hermione felt the slight tingle of a Notice-me-not charm as she stepped sideways into the alley and with a nod to her escort, she apparated to the Ministry's main entrance.

Once more, there were people awaiting her arrival, but a much smaller group. The current Minister for Magic, Roscoe Faineant, was accompanied by his closest aides and the current head of the MLE, Kenneth Wry.

Unlike Fudge or Scrimgeour's ministries, Fainenant seemed to have a fairly competent staff so far as Hermione could judge, and they were quite interested in assisting Ron's research. Of course, Hermione could read between lines of the bureaucratic double-speak and knew that they hadn't always held that view. Even if Ron hadn't told her about the Ministry's reaction to Miroslav's information, she felt confident she would have divined it from the general discussion alone.

Once the official meeting was over, Ron lead Hermione deep into the bowels of the Ministry to a place that she remembered all too well, the Department of Mysteries.

The circular room, the time room and the others…she passed through them to reach a new section of the department, which had a normal appearing wooden door with an ornately carved brass knocker.

Ron stopped in front of the door and used his wand to tap the knocker three times. The brass device let out a sleepy snort and then a gargoyle's face rotated into view.

“Wot ya want?” the knocker said with a yawn.

“Open up, you useless piece of metal,” Ron said.

“'Ere now, that's no way to be,” the gargoyle stuck out his tongue and blew a raspberry. “ `urt me feelings ya `ave, need me to go have a fit o' vapors now.”

The knocker began to rotate closed again, but Ron quickly caught the gargoyle by the nose and leaned in to whisper something Hermione couldn't catch. The gargoyle's eyes bugged out for a moment, then the distinct sound of the lock catch sounded and the door swung open.

Ron resituated his robes with a quick tug at the lapels and waved Hermione to enter. She could hear the door knocker muttering under its breath as she passed through into an amazing library with floor-to-ceiling windows letting an illusion of brilliant sunlight through. There were the three large central tables and a large fireplace crouching across from the door with a small fire burning in the grate which made the room seem more welcoming.

A large slate board stood against a side wall inscribed with arithmantic symbols and equations. The nearest table to the board was piled high with old leather-bound books and rolled up parchments. The notations drew Hermione's attention and she went to the board and examined the formulae.

“The inversion section goes between the energy extraction and the final portion that we've tried to recreate from the fragments found in Malfoy Manor,” a dreamy voice floated down from above their heads. Hermione turned and looked up at the upper level at the young woman in dark robes with the insignia patch of the Department of Mysteries Unspeakables.

“Hello, Luna,” Hermione said pleasantly. “Been a long time since we last spoke.”

“Yes, it has,” Luna replied. “Now that you're here, we stand a good chance of solving this puzzle.” The blond witch descended the stairs and came up beside Hermione.

“You're the primary researcher then?” Hermione asked.

“Yes, the other Unspeakables didn't want the project,” Luna cocked her head at the end sequence and then picked up the chalk and added a bridging character. Hermione glanced over and raised her eyebrows in interest.

“It looks like you're making progress,” Hermione glanced over to Ron who remained near the door. He looked uncomfortable as he stood and watched the two women at the board.

“This is only an educated guess,” the other witch said, pointing at the character she'd just written. “We're missing several key reference works that would help with the reconstruction. Voldemort's people have been very troublesome that way.”

“References missing?”

“Yes, the Department Archivist is very despondent over the loss,” Luna answered.

Hermione went to the table and opened her attaché case to remove her notes. She paged through the scrolls, selected one and then handed it to Luna.

“Do we have access to these tomes?” Hermione queried.

Luna went down the list, soundlessly repeated the book titles before she said. “We have most of these, but we're missing three.”

Hermione moved to Luna's side and watched as the other witch underlined the missing books. Oh no, not the Definitive History of Runic Magicks by Quondam Episteme, she thought, dismayed. The History was one of the most crucial volumes they were going to need to reconstruct this thing.

“Hmm, any chance of getting the missing volumes from private sources?” Hermione fought against a growing sense of frustration.

Luna shook her head sadly. “I've already inquired, but most private sources don't have these volumes either. I suspect that Voldemort had them stolen or removed deliberately back when he was gaining power before the last battle.”

Shite, Hermione thought, that means I have to call in some favors…

Ron shuffled his feet a bit, drawing Hermione's attention back from her thoughts. Luna had drifted over to him and they appeared to be having a quiet conversation. Their body language indicated it was personal in nature, and Hermione thought she now knew who had encouraged Ron to “mend frames”. She turned from the pair and pulled out a notepad and pen to start determining the best method to get the missing tomes into her hands.

She heard the sound of a kiss then the outer door opening and closing before she looked up at Luna.

“You and Ron, then?”

“If you mean “are we dating” then yes,” the blonde witch pulled out a chair and sat down at the table and began to arrange the work papers. “He still does love you, you know.”

“I've not really given him a reason to continue,” Hermione replied stiffly. “It would be best for him to let go of any fantasies he may be entertaining right now.”

“Fantasies? I don't think it's a fantasy to love another person,” Luna opened an old tome and blew away the layer of dust before starting to read the page. “Love is its own power, it's a force of nature, if you think about it.”

Hermione stayed silent, pulling her work in front of her and began to focus on the matter at hand.

********

By mid-afternoon, Hermione had gained a new appreciation of Luna's acumen and native intelligence.

The blonde witch was a relentless researcher though there were the odd incidences of strange concepts and verbal non-sequiturs that cropped up now and again. At first, Hermione had had to curb her tongue when Luna spoke of Habajeebs and their lifecycles, but as the research had continued, she had focused on the formulae and let Luna's blather wash over her when it didn't relate to the spell. Hermione found it strangely relaxing and didn't spend any energy or thought on why it was soothing.

“Hmm, the inversion of the runes in the central part…” Luna's voice trailed off onto a strange note that caused Hermione to glance up at her.

Her blue eyes were glazed; the pupils fully dilated so only the thinnest line of blue outlined the darkness. Her serene countenance contorted into such an expression of fear that Hermione rose and rushed to the woman's side.

“Darkness moves to swallow all…what was once lost will become found…what is inside will be freed…defeat for the Dark Lord comes from the hand of the child…” Luna's voice was a harsh whisper that trailed off into a strangled gasp before she passed out.

Hermione barely had a chance to stop the blonde's slide to the floor and screamed for help. “Ron! Ron, come quickly!”

There came the sound of rushing footsteps from the outside hallway followed by a ripe curse as the door failed to open. A muffled thump and tinny squeal of pain came and Ron shoved the door aside to rush in with his wand drawn.

“Something's wrong with Luna,” Hermione juggled her grip to cradle the woman's head as Ron put his wand on the table and began to gather the unconscious Luna up.

“Did she say anything before she passed out?” Ron queried as he headed to the door.

Hermione snatched up his wand and followed. “Several things, rather ominous sounding…was she prophesizing?”

Ron shot her a look and shook his head warningly. The sounds of other footsteps came from the circular room and the hallway. He strode up to a side door and shouldered through it with his burden. Hermione nipped in quickly behind him and passed him his wand after he set Luna down on a rather non-descript chintz couch in the small area.

The small lounge area also boasted a couple of slouchy armchairs around a wooden table that listed toward one side. A rickety bookcase piled high with books took up the wall next to the door. Ron crouched down and chafed one of Luna's hands and spoke softly, encouraging her to wake up.

Hermione sprang to the side as a sharp knock on the partially open door was followed by the two robed wizards with Unspeakable insignias.

“What's the problem this time, Weasley?” The oldest of the pair snapped coldly.

“Nothing,” Ron glanced up at his questioner and then deliberately turned his back to him as he continued. “Luna just had a dizzy spell and needed to rest for a moment. She's done in, that's all.”

Hermione met the gaze of the older man as it swept to her with a blank expression and tight mental shields. He gave up the attempt to intimidate her when his companion whispered in his ear after a moment.

“It had better not be another prophecy,” The man spat as he turned to leave. “There's already four of them in the Hall already and if there's anymore, she'll have to resign from the Department and register as a proven Seer.”

Hermione kept her expression bland and non-committal as the pair exited, closing the door once their footsteps had faded around the corner.

“Ron…”

“I know, I know,” He muttered. “C'mon sweet, wake up.”

Hermione stepped to the arm of the couch and placed her fingertips against Luna's temples. She began to massage, careful to hit all the relevant acupressure points.

“What are you about?” Ron asked, perplexed.

“Stimulation of certain points helps reduce the shock of a vision if done properly,” Hermione answered, not pausing in her ministrations. She could feel the tension in the tremble of the facial muscles and used a bit more pressure to smooth the knots away.

Luna's eyes flew open and she stared straight up at Hermione. “Where is your son?”

Hermione shot a glare at Ron to find him staring at Luna slack-jawed. “Ron…”

“I didn't tell her, I swear!” He exclaimed. “I haven't told anyone about him!”

Hermione sighed. “But what about Tonks and Moody, hmm?”

“Listen to me,” Luna struggled to sit up, but Ron kept her prone with his hands on her shoulders. “They're going to find out about him, you need to get him to safety now!”

“Luna, calm down,” Hermione said. “We have Aurors watching over us while we're here.”

“They won't be enough,” Luna began to sob aloud. “You don't understand. Everyone will be after him…everyone!”

Hermione felt her stomach drop with dread when the sound of pounding footsteps sounded outside the office. Ron stood to face the door as it flew open, with Tonks framed in the doorway. Behind her was Hermione's parents, looking ashen and with Katherine holding Jamie with a panicked expression.

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Author's Note: Been a while since I've been able to do much with this story. I apologize to those following this, but personal life issues have not been very cooperative for the last year or so. Here's Chapter 4, and I expect to have Chapter five posted in the next two weeks.

Chapter Four

Hogwarts Castle, Perth & Kinross, Scotland

The sun was beginning to set over the brow of the mountains when Hermione and her son exited the Floo into the Headmistresses' circular office.

The absent Professor McGonagall's tastes and interests were reflected in the seating chairs, the bookcases and other paraphernalia. Tartan was the fabric of choice in most of the upholstery. Hermione remembered most of the office's contents from her visits during what would have been her seventh year here at Hogwarts. Jamie was a little frightened by the sudden changes in his surroundings and clung tightly to her neck.

The Floo belched out a burst of green flame and Ron exited, brushing stray ashes from his robes. He was followed in quick succession by Luna and Tonks. Hermione kept her breathing as even as possible, but her adrenaline made the task difficult. She kept jiggling one leg even as she told herself to keep calm.

She and Jamie were now on the run from the general wizarding public of Great Britain at the moment, so she didn't expect her nerves to settle anytime soon.

Hogwarts was the best location to remain undercover by hiding within the ancient castle's wards and protections. But it also meant that she and Jamie would effectively become prisoners for the duration of their stay here as well. Any further trips to visit her parents in Oxfordshire would be impossible until this furor died down.

Her parents were being relocated to the Burrow with the Weasleys and Moody to lie low for a time. The explosion that had rocked the Wizarding World had made itself felt just after noon, when the first wave of owls began to pester the Grangers and Jamie at the London Zoo.

It got much worse very quickly after the owls starting arriving.

Tonks had been forced to disillusion the Grangers and Jamie to hide them before calling in other members of Ron's team to help them escape from the growing crowd of witches and wizards that were apparating into the vicinity to catch a glimpse of Harry Potter's son.

Ron and Hermione had both glanced over the morning edition of the Daily Prophet to check and see if there was a mention of Jamie, but they had only seen the general mention of Hermione arriving to assist the Ministry in some esoteric research.

What the pair had missed was the special edition of the Prophet that was sent out later that morning with the exclusive interview of an unnamed Ministry source that could confirm that Hermione's son was Harry Potter's son as well.

Of course, to make the gall even worse for Hermione, the by-line was Rita Skeeter's.

That the article was sensationalized was an understatement of nearly-Biblical proportions. Hermione had read the piece the first time through jaw agape, and the second read was punctuated by Hermione incinerating the newspaper with a burst of wandless magic and stamping on the ashes.

Ron was impressed by her wandless magic burst to say the least.

Now, she stood in the Headmistress' Office and wondered what else could go wrong.

Heavy footfalls sounded on the stair just outside the door, and the newcomers turned to see Professor McGonagall and Hagrid enter the office.

“'Ermione!” Hagrid exclaimed happily.

“Hello Hagrid,” She replied with a smile.

Jamie peeked around his mother to see the groundskeeper for the first time. “Mummy, he's in m'book!”

Hagrid's jaw dropped and Professor McGonagall tried to stifle her gasp of surprise. Hermione let Jamie stand on a chair to give her back a rest and to give the others a pause to get over the shock of seeing Jamie's resemblance to his father.

“Miss Granger,” The Headmistress came forward and grasped Hermione's hand. “Welcome back to Hogwarts.”

“Thank you, Headmistress,” Hermione turned to catch Jamie as he started to bounce up and down on the chair. “I appreciate your offer of sanctuary here in the Castle, and I'm sorry for the imposition.”

“Rubbish, Miss Granger,” McGonagall's sharp gray eyes swept over her visitor and she gave a tiny nod as if approving Hermione's general condition. “You are one of our most prestigious graduates, and Hogwarts has always taken care of its own in times of need.”

Jamie slid down to sit in the chair and kicked his legs to and fro. He was becoming overtired and that would lead to acting out very soon. “Would it be possible to see our rooms now, Professor?” Hermione shot her former Head of House a desperate look first before cutting her gaze back to her son.

Bless her, McGonagall caught the hint. “Certainly, you'll want to freshen up before supper, I'm sure,” The Headmistress turned to Hagrid. “Please show Miss Granger to the guest suite, Hagrid.”

Hagrid beamed happily. “O'course, come along then, `ermione.”

Ron, Luna and Tonks brought up the rear as they headed down the circular stairs and towards the Grand Staircase. Jamie stayed quiet in her arms, but his head swiveled from side to side to take in as much as he could, but he was beginning to droop noticeably. He laid his head down on her shoulder with a sigh.

It was strange how much he took after Harry at odd moments. Sometimes, Hermione had trouble recognizing any of herself in her son; it was almost like she didn't even have much to do with Jamie's creation.

They wound up to the seventh floor and headed past the Pink Lady, who greeted them warmly and craned her neck to get a good look at the little boy, to a odd cul-de-sac that Hermione remembered from her prefect days as one that always had to be checked for snogging couples.

The back wall of the niche held a single portrait of a medieval witch in rich attire scrying with a map and crystal. She did not look up until Hagrid cleared his throat loudly.

“Sir Hagrid, you bring guests?” The woman appeared to be young, fair-skinned with dark eyes and hair.

“I do, m'lady, this here's Hermione Granger and her son, Jamie,” Hagrid said.

“Ah,” The lady stood up from her seat and smoothed her rumpled blue kirtle. “Please you to select your password, milady?”

“Hmm…let's try something simple for Jamie's sake,” Hermione paused and then said firmly. “Pooh.”

The lady nodded her head and a slight glow flashed from the painting's frame. “So it shall be.”

The painted figure then froze and the large canvas swung slowly to the side, revealing a plain wooden door with a simple latch. Hagrid shifted the luggage he was carrying to his left side and opened the door with his right hand.

The room was rather like the Gryffindor Common Room with cozy chairs and a large couch before a large fireplace. Four doors led from the central room, and a quick glance into them indicated two bedrooms, a connecting bath and private study of an amazing size and a working Floo connection, as Aurors and some assistants from the Department of Mysteries were bringing through the contents of Luna's library and research from the Ministry. Hermione quietly closed the door and let them get on with their work.

Jamie was beginning to drowse against her shoulder, so she took a chance on getting him down and settled for at least a nap in the smaller of the bedrooms. A quick cast of wards to be sure he didn't roll out of the bed inadvertently and she slipped from the room with only a token protest from the tired child.

Luna was directing the transfer of her work by then. “Over there, and don't disturb the order, if you please.”

Hermione gestured to call Ron's attention. He came over after a quick word with Sheamus. “Jamie sleeping?”

“For the moment,” she replied, glancing over her shoulder to check on the cracked door to the smaller bedroom. “I need to send a post, please.”

“I'll get an owl,” Ron said.

“Thank you,” Hermione dropped into one of the central rooms cushioned seats and removed her shoes. “There's some things from home I need to request.”

He looked curious, but held off on asking any further questions as he headed into the Library to ask Luna if she needed anything from the Ministry.

Waiting on Ron again, she thought. Memory washed over her as she stared into the fire.

Two days had passed since Ron had headed off to see his brothers and enlist their aid to sneak into Hogwarts to retrieve the Ravenclaw Orrery from the Astronomy Tower…

Harry hadn't been comfortable letting Ron go alone, but both Ron and Hermione had persuaded him that it was the best chance of securing the item with the least amount attention. As a result, the past 48 hours had been rather tense as they awaited word from Ron.

Hermione pushed open the door from the kitchen at Grimmauld Place with a tray of sandwiches and tea and headed upstairs to the library. Crookshanks bounded up the stairs in front of his mistress, taking his escort duties in earnest; hoping to get rewarded no doubt with whatever scraps would be left over after lunch. She hadn't caught Harry passing Crooks food yet, but she suspected it.

The door was open, and she paused at the entrance. Harry was bent over a large, dark-leather bound tome and was practicing a complex wand movement. The wand tip glowed a brilliant blue-white that seemed to radiate down into the core.

Hermione cleared her throat loudly and Harry's head shot up, eyes intent before he smiled slightly. The glow faded slowly as he sat back and pushed the tome aside. “Luncheon time, then?”

“Yes,” she answered, entering the room and laying her burden on a empty section of the central table. “Nothing special, though.”

“It'll be fine, Hermione,” he grabbed a half of a sandwich and a cup of tea. “Really, don't take Ron seriously. You're a good cook.”

Hermione shrugged. “I know that, but still…”

Harry glanced over sharply as she took the seat opposite him. “But?”

“I guess I could stand to improve my kitchen skills. Perhaps, Molly could train me some.”

He snorted humorlessly. “Ron needs to stop trying to make you into his mother.”

Hermione started in surprise. Where had that criticism of Ron come from? She'd expected Harry to agree that Molly could help her.

The rest of the meal passed in relative quiet. Harry returned to his studies and Hermione returned to her research into the nature of Horcruxes and her other side project.

The sudden tapping sound at the window provoked an immediate reaction when it shattered the silence. Wands raised, both friends kept their focus trained on the fluttering shape on the other side of the hazy glass. Crooks broke their strain by jumping to the windowsill and meowing in welcome.

Harry strode to the window and threw open the lower sash to admit Pig into the room, then closed the window once more. Hermione was trying to contain the hyperactive owl, but without much success; after the fourth miss, Harry reached out and snagged the tiny avian messenger with nonchalant skill.

Hermione spared him an aggravated glance before moving forward and detaching the letter.

“Dear J-,

Have arrived safely. Hope you are enjoying your time at the beach. Will return home in a fortnight.

Love, B-”

The coded message was good news indeed. “He's at Hogwarts and has the Orrery. He'll bring it back after a week to avoid being tracked. Fred will be with him and will assist.”

Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes wearily. “Now, we only need the last one.”

She nodded. “We've found all the other Founder's artifacts. Are we certain he never obtained one of Gryffindor's?”

“The only two artifacts we know of tied to Gryffindor are the Sorting Hat and the sword, both of which were guarded by Dumbledore. Neither one has the taint of a Horcrux on them.”

“Hmm, still, it seems like we're overlooking something though,” Hermione tossed the message into the fire as Harry plopped Pig onto a corner stand and gave him a substantial owl treat.

“Harry, I've noticed something here,” Hermione said hesitantly as she returned to her seat on the other side of the table.

“What is it?”

“I'm not sure if it's important or not…” She trailed off, then stood up and unrolled a large scroll out in front of the dark haired boy.

“Looks like Sirius' family tree almost, hang on, is this…?”

“This is the Potter family tree…notice anything about the marriages in your direct descent?”

“No, what am I looking for?”

“I've researched most of the names along the main branch…there are not many marriages back into the established magical families, Harry. In fact, I'd say, that the Potters were deliberately marrying outside the families…starting with Godric Gryffindor himself. Most of these names I've managed to find information about were Muggle-borns or of squib descendence.”

“So, my Mum and Dad…”

She cocked her head and moved around the table to stand beside him. “Pretty much the norm in your family it seems…which appears to buck the trend of just about any other established magical line in Great Britain.”

“Great, another reason to paint red and white concentric circles on my back for Voldemort, right?”

Hermione smacked the back of his head in exasperation. “Git, there's something more here…your family line has been growing in power for generations as well. Conspicuously growing.”

“I thought magical ability got diluted with outside marriages?” Harry rubbed the back of his head as he leaned back to gaze quizzically at his friend.

“Well that's the conventional wisdom of the majority, but seems there's an argument for genetic diversity and you are living proof of it.”

He sighed. “OK, but does this help with the Horcruxes?”

Hermione went back to her seat and flopped down despondently. “Not that I can find, but it might have some value…I'm trying any angle to turn up a lead.”

Harry smiled and rerolled the parchment. “It's nice to have this at least. Thanks, Hermione.”

They continued studying late into the night, pausing only for another quick meal for dinner. After midnight, Hermione, desperate for a break, decided to take a bath and grab some sleep. Harry wished her a good night and she climbed the stairs to the next floor.

She'd enjoyed a good long soak and was just changed into her pajamas when she heard the sound of breaking glass from below. Grabbing her wand, she quietly crept down the stair after a quick disillusionment charm.

Harry was alone in the study still, staring into the fire and Hermione shook her head ruefully before cancelling the charm. Paranoia from being chased and hiding was beginning to really do a number on her nerves.

“What happened? I heard a crash,” She inquired softly.

Harry snorted humorlessly, raising the bottle of fire-whiskey with a flourish. “Got rid of the glass, that's all.”

Hermione frowned and padded across to his side. “I don't think that's going to help, Harry.”

“I'm not looking for help, I'm looking for oblivion,” He answered.

She snatched the bottle, causing him to twist around in the chair with a glare. “Give it back, Hermione.”

She summoned a chair to sit beside him before she took a healthy gulp of the liquor. And promptly began to cough and gasp around the flames that issued from her mouth.

Harry snickered before rescuing the bottle from her loosened grip. “I'd suggest sipping, not gulping.”

After she regained her breath, they passed the liquor back and forth a few more times before she waved it off. Perhaps it wasn't the smartest thing to do, but the relaxation the alcohol provided felt too good to pass up. Tension melted away in the warm haze of the whiskey.

“If you could do anything you wanted right now, what would you do?” He asked softly.

She blinked, and tried to concentrate. “Anything?”

“Anything…” He smirked and waggled his brows suggestively.

She giggled at his expression before slapping her hand over her mouth. “I think I'm foxed…”

Harry reached over to chuck her under her chin. “Focus, Hermione.”

“If I could do anything…hmm,” She cocked her head, considering. “I'd want to be helping you study for your NEWTS.”

Harry's eyes widened with amazement. “You'd want to be studying with me? But, that's all we've been doing lately…”

Hermione laid her head back against the back of the chair and closed her eyes against the slow spinning of the room. “Helping with your NEWTS, you git, because we'd only have to worry about passing some tests, rather than worrying whether or not we might live or die tomorrow.”

The crackling of the low fire was the only sound in the room for a short time. She almost drowsed off before Harry broke the silence.

“I'm so sorry, Hermione,” His voice shook with pain. “It's my fault.”

Hermione shook off some of the haze. “It's not your fault, Harry!” She wobbled upright and grabbed his head to force his gaze to hers. “It was my choice. And I don't regret it for one moment.”

Harry's eyes were dark with anguish and, for once, Hermione decided to follow her instincts instead of her intellect.

She kissed him.

The sudden flare of flames in the grate broke Hermione's reverie. Ron stepped through the spinning flames with a cage in hand with a gorgeous Snowy Owl clinging to the perch inside. Hedwig hooted happily as she glimpsed Hermione.

Time to call in those favors she'd been saving.

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