Disclaimer: Everything you recognize belongs to JKR.
Author's Note: Written for granger_girl17, who requested a fic where Hermione is threatened and Harry's reaction changes their relationship.
What We Do
Chapter 1
"Hermione."
Hermione looked up from her paperwork at the sound of the Head of her Division's voice. "Yes?"
Damien Westfall made a motion with his head. "Can I see you in my office for a minute?"
"Of course." Hermione stood, automatically straightening her shirt as she did so, following Damien into his office.
He closed the door and then walked across to his desk, its entire surface strewn as always with stacks of files and papers. He handed a file to her. "Your next case."
Hermione glanced down at the name on it and paused, her gaze focusing on the two words. Jasper Traynor. Jasper Traynor! She could feel her heart rate picking up. She would be trying Jasper Traynor? Jasper Traynor, who was single-handedly responsible for the most terrorizing streak of serial murders of Muggle-born wizards since Voldemort and his Death Eaters at the height of their power. Jasper Traynor, whose capture and arrest had been the biggest news story in the wizarding world for a week and had already been deemed the single biggest success of the Aurors since Harry had started working there. Jasper Traynor, whose trial was guaranteed to be the biggest, most-watched one since the Wizengamot had finally finished all the trials for the prominent Death Eaters in the last War three years ago.
She looked back up at Damien, trying to sound perfectly calm, competent. "I'll do my best."
Damien cracked a slight smile. "That was never in doubt." He sobered quickly. "I don't think I need to tell you that we want to make sure Traynor goes away for a long time. After what he's done, for my money, if he ever sees the light of day again as a free man, it'll be too soon. I told the higher-ups you could handle this one on your own, that you'd get the job done." He paused. "So get it done."
Hermione nodded, her fingers tightening involuntarily on the folder. "Yes, sir." Informal as the atmosphere in the division generally was, this was not the time for informality.
Damien nodded, moving around his desk to sit down. "Ok, then. Get to work, Hermione."
"Yes, sir," Hermione said again as she left Damien's office.
She returned to her desk, putting Jasper Traynor's file away for the moment so she could finish up the paperwork from her last case that she'd been working on when she was called into Damien's office. Putting the file physically away but not from her mind. She worked by rote, thankful that the routine paperwork didn't require much attention as her thoughts raced, planning and preparing what she would need to do. She was thankful that she managed to finish her paperwork fairly quickly, glancing over it a final time just to make sure everything looked alright, since she was rarely so distracted while working.
She had her usual routine for the start of a case-any case-and so she began, pulling the Traynor file out once more and opening it up, just letting out a deep breath as her only outward indication that this was any different from her usual cases.
Of course, she was familiar with the list of Traynor's atrocities simply from reading the Daily Prophet, but there was still something shocking about seeing the length of the list of the people whom he'd killed, all of them either Muggles or Muggle-born. All his victims also had one other thing in common; they had all been found bearing Traynor's trademark, much like the Dark Mark. Traynor favored carving an 'M' into the flesh of his victims after their death, 'M' for Mudblood.
She glanced through the list of his crimes before she turned to the page summary that had been taken upon his arrest, when he had been put into a holding cell until after his trial. He had, she noted with some disquiet, refused counsel to assist him in his defense at trial. That was his right to do so, but it seemed a little odd, unnerving.
She put the matter aside though to look for the main contact for the Aurors who had been in charge of Traynor's capture and arrest: Harry Potter. She paused. She had known, of course, that Harry had worked on the task force to capture Traynor, but she had not known that he had also been designated the primary contact person for the Division on the Traynor case. That was a pleasant surprise and would make things easier.
She had worked with Harry before on a few prior cases and had found that working with him officially was nearly as easy as their friendship had always been. There was usually a tension of sorts between the Aurors and Enforcers in the Division, in spite of their close working partnership, because of the Enforcers' focus on ensuring justice, which could at times be at odds with that of the Aurors, who were more interested in capturing the alleged criminal than ensuring that justice be done. With Harry, though, there was no need to worry about being at odds; working together was familiar territory to them both and that added comfort always made things easier.
To say nothing of the fact that while they were careful to keep their personal friendship separate from the professional when they were dealing with each other in their official capacities, their friendship did slip in and they always managed to find some shared amusement in what they did, in spite of the grimness of the work.
Feeling somewhat heartened at the thought of working with Harry on this case, Hermione stood up, slipping into her official robes as an Enforcer who worked within the auspices of the Wizengamot and, at the same time, slipping into her professional persona, calm, cool, and competent. She had perfected her official demeanor in the years since she had begun working, but she suspected this case would prove to be the biggest challenge to her professionalism yet.
But as if on cue, she heard the voice in her head, the one that always sounded like Harry, the voice of encouragement and support. You've faced down Voldemort and his Death Eaters, and if you can face them, you can face anyone.
She focused on that thought as she finished gathering up her materials and left the office to travel to the Department's holding cells. The less dangerous people were usually kept in the holding cells within the Ministry itself, but Jasper Traynor, unsurprisingly, had been taken to the Maximum Security holding cells in Attica Gaol. The Gaol was separate from the Ministry building, although attached to it by a direct Floo connection, that was reserved solely for travel between the Ministry and the Gaol.
She nodded a greeting to the guard on duty, who waved her in after checking her badge.
Once inside, she spoke with another guard. "I'm here to see Prisoner # D-10642." Even his prisoner number spoke to the severity of his crimes, as each prisoner was assigned, along with his number, a letter which designated the level of dangerousness the prisoner was thought to represent, with A as being the least threatening, and D reserved only for those very few deemed to be the most threatening, the most dangerous criminals. Up until now, she had mostly prosecuted cases for prisoners assigned to the letter B, only handling two cases of prisoners designated in class C.
The guard's eyes widened slightly. "Ah, that would be Jasper Traynor."
"Yes," she affirmed briefly, feeling another niggling disquiet. The guard had spoken Jasper Traynor's name with something of the same horror mingled in with fear with which Voldemort had been spoken of for years, when he had still been called He Who Shall Not Be Named. In anyone else, she would have dismissed as the fear of the untrained, but the security guards here were not untrained. They were selected from the best and most promising of those candidates who applied to be members of the Magical Hit Squad and the Aurors, but who were not selected for whatever reason. They were nearly as well-trained as members of the Hit Squad and often became members of the Hit Squad after a few years as a guard. So for this guard to speak of Traynor in such a way was alarming. But Hermione pushed aside the alarm firmly. She had a job to do and she would do it.
Hermione steeled her spine as she followed the guard further into the building, walking past numbers of other cells before the guard paused before a door with one barred window in it, murmuring a complicated series of unlocking charms and finally being required to verify his badge information before the door finally unlocked and the guard opened it.
"I will wait right here, Enforcer Granger," the guard said.
"Thank you."
With that, Hermione stepped inside the cell, her eyes immediately finding Jasper Traynor, who straightened up from the bench on which he had been… reclining? Most prisoners were found slumped on the bench or on the floor, but Traynor looked as arrogant and as coldly superior as if to acknowledge his surroundings in any way was beneath him.
Traynor looked up and met her eyes and Hermione bit back a slight gasp with an effort. She had seen his picture in the Daily Prophet after his capture so his general appearance was familiar to her but she had not realized from the rather grainy newspaper picture that his eyes were so light, in stark contrast to his dark hair. His eyes were a pale, pale blue, so pale they were almost the color of ice, but what shocked her was the coldness of them. The eyes were pitiless, almost inhuman. They looked as if they had never shown any human emotion, as if he had never known an emotion.
She had faced evil before, had seen it in Voldemort, in Lucius Malfoy, in Antonin Dolohov, among others. But all that had been different, she suddenly thought. Before, she had always had Harry and Ron with her, supporting her. Now, she was suddenly, terrifyingly conscious that she was alone in a cell with a mass murderer.
She was being irrational, she scolded herself, suddenly annoyed. She was hardly alone and she was certainly not helpless. The guard was just outside, she still had her wand, and moreover, she knew that Traynor was, of course, unarmed.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Traynor," she began coolly, lifting her chin as she regarded him with as much composed hauteur she could muster. "I am the Enforcer who will be prosecuting your trial. My name is--"
"I know who you are," he interrupted her, and just the sound of his voice had the hairs on the back of her neck lifting, an instinctive reaction to the menace in his voice, all the more chilling for its utter dispassion. "You are the Mudblood friend of Harry Potter, that half-blooded traitor."
"Am I correct in stating that you have declined counsel to represent you in your trial?" she asked briskly, refusing to react to his provocation. "You are entitled to change your mind at any time before or during your trial."
Traynor met her eyes, rising to his feet in one slow, deliberate motion, before he smiled, very slowly. It was not a reassuring sight. "I believe," he stated coolly, even languidly, "you will find you are mistaken."
"You have not declined counsel?"
"Oh, yes, I decline counsel because I shall not need it."
"Very well, then. The date for your trial has been set for three weeks from today, on April 25."
"You are mistaken, Mudblood. You see," Traynor smiled again, a smile that would have done justice to Tom Riddle, "there will be no trial."
Hermione stiffened, steeling herself as she met Traynor's gaze unflinchingly. He could try to intimidate, but she was Hermione Granger, Gryffindor, and she had more mettle than that. "You are mistaken, Mr. Traynor. There will be a trial and justice will be done."
He laughed, a brief, hard chuckle more menacing than even his smile had been. "Oh, yes, justice," he mocked. "Justice will be when every Mudblood is either dead or enslaved as the inferior animals that you are," he suddenly flared, his voice rising in volume and in force. "Do not even think that you have defeated me, Mudblood, or you will regret it."
He moved with a suddenness and a swiftness that startled her, until he was standing directly before her. "You will die, Mudblood, and I shall enjoy your screams before you do."
Hermione stepped back calmly, refusing to show any reaction to his deliberate threat. "This conversation is over, Mr. Traynor, until your trial. Good day."
She felt just a twinge of satisfaction at the flicker of expression she saw cross his face, realizing that her utter composure in the face of his menace had baffled and infuriated him.
She backed out of the cell, not caring to turn her back on him in spite of all her bravado, knocking on the door for the guard to open it again.
And it was not until she was outside the cell and the guard had finished re-locking the door that she let out a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding, feeling a slight trembling beginning deep inside.
Jasper Traynor was worse, much more sinister, than anyone she had prosecuted yet. She had, she realized, been expecting rage, and that, she could have withstood without much difficulty. Traynor, on the other hand, had been cold, dispassionate, his menace all the more powerful for being so controlled, so emotion-less. He had not committed his crimes out of fury, but out of contempt for all who were not pure-blooded.
She was angry at herself for reacting, for the slight shiver she could not quell, for even feeling a little intimidated, which was exactly what Traynor had wanted. Her only meager satisfaction came in knowing that no matter what she felt, she had not shown it, her training serving her in good stead.
She followed the guard back out to the entrance of the prison, nodding again at the guard, before returning to the Ministry building. She normally returned to her desk after her first meeting with an accused, in order to think and strategize, depending on her impression of the attitude of the accused, but today, she decided against it. Instead, she headed straight to the offices of the Aurors, half-guiltily aware that, while it would ostensibly be an official consultation meeting, she was going to the Aurors now because she wanted to see Harry. Harry, her best friend, and not Harry Potter, the Auror. Because she suddenly wanted the reassurance and the comfort of Harry's company, because she wanted the feeling of safety she always got from being with him.
She was familiar with all the Aurors, of course, and managed smiles and nods of greeting for those she knew best as she made her way through the cubicles toward Harry's office. It was a sign of Harry's status in the wizarding world that he had been given an office of his own so quickly, since many Aurors worked for decades without moving from their cubicles. Harry, in contrast, had been in a cubicle for just over two years before he had been assigned to his own office, along with being made the youngest team leader in Auror history.
Harry was talking to a member of his team, Gage Whittaford, but he broke off the moment he saw Hermione.
"Hermione, this is a nice surprise." He gestured her into his office before turning back to Gage. "As I was saying, keep an extra-careful eye on that area. It may be nothing but my thumbs are pricking, so to speak."
Gage nodded. "Of course, sir."
"Gage, how many times have I told you to call me Harry?"
The barest of smiles softened Gage's otherwise rather harsh features. "I believe I've lost count, Mr. Potter."
Harry rolled his eyes slightly. "Well, go on then, Mister Whittaford."
Hermione suppressed a smile. Harry hated that, as his team leader, Gage Whittaford refused to call him by his name, never mind the fact that Gage was in his early 30's and was, therefore, Harry's elder by at least five years. What Harry never quite considered was that Gage's refusal to call Harry by his name was not so much because of Harry's status as it was a simple sign of respect because Harry had proven that, regardless of his status or his youth, he actually did deserve to be a team leader.
Harry faced Hermione with a smile, the smile she tended to think of as hers because it was one she only ever saw him direct at her, not the rather perfunctory social smile he had given her earlier when Gage had been present, but the more personal one he only used when they were alone or with Ron. "To what do I owe the honor of this visit, Enforcer Granger?" he asked half-teasingly.
"Jasper Traynor," she said succinctly.
Harry blinked, abruptly sobering and becoming the Auror rather than simply her friend. "What about Traynor?"
"Damien assigned me to work on his case when it goes to trial in three weeks."
"Really? That's great."
Hermione stared, a little confused. If anything, she would have expected him to express a little concern at her handling a case this big, against a criminal as notoriously dangerous as Jasper Traynor, his protective instincts kicking in. "Why do you say that?"
Harry gave her a look as if she'd just asked him what day it was or some other question equally silly. "Because you, of all people, will make sure Traynor gets what he deserves. It's a relief."
She smiled. "Really?"
"Of course. What did you think I would say, that Damien just made a huge mistake because you're incompetent?"
She had to laugh, as she knew he'd intended her to. "No, I didn't think you'd say that."
"Honestly, Hermione, imagine if Damien had given the case to someone else. Felicity Maines would have finished the case in the space of an hour, but then left out some vital thing that had Traynor going free on some technicality," Harry said, mentioning one of the senior Enforcers who had been working in the division for nearly 20 years but had a tendency to overlook details that had rather derailed her upward mobility in the division.
Hermione made a laughing protest. "Harry, that's not fair to Felicity. She's not that careless."
"No, she's not," Harry conceded, "But still, of course Damien gave the Traynor case to you. It's an important one and you're the best Enforcer he's got."
Hermione had to smile. "I think you're biased, but thanks."
Harry shrugged a little. "Maybe I am biased, but the point stands. You're good at what you do. Anyway, have you eaten lunch yet?"
"No, why?"
"Let's go have some lunch and we can talk more about this then."
She hesitated. "But, Harry, we usually leave work at work."
"I know, but it's lunchtime and I'm hungry." He gave her a cajoling smile. "Come on, there's this great little place I've been wanting to take you to that's just a 10 minute walk from here."
She gave in. "Okay, I'll go." It was that cajoling smile of his, one she'd never been able to resist. She had long ago stopped pretending she could resist it; it was simply the way things were.
"It's a Muggle place, so you'll have to leave your robes here."
Hermione did so, leaving her official robes neatly folded over the back of the chair, and then paused. "Oh, wait, let me run back to my desk; I didn't bring my bag with me so I don't have any money or anything."
"No, you don't have to. I'll just cover lunch," Harry said easily.
Hermione agreed with a smile, falling into step beside him as they left the office.
They kept the conversation casual on the walk to the restaurant, idly swapping stories from the past few days at work and not mentioning Jasper Traynor at all, by some unspoken agreement. So she told him about an amusing anecdote told to her by one of her co-workers that morning, and he talked of something funny Ron had said the night before and mentioned Ron's suggestion for what they should all do that weekend.
At the restaurant, Harry requested a private table so that they could speak freely. The restaurant might be a Muggle one so they wouldn't need to worry about the confidentiality and privacy concerns that they would have in a wizarding restaurant, but they did have to keep in mind the necessity not to say anything that would reveal too much about the magical world to Muggles. It wasn't something they had talked about, but then she'd known there was no need to mention it. She knew she could trust Harry to act as she would.
It was, she suddenly found herself thinking with the clarity born of the three years distance since her break-up with Ron, something she had never been able to do with Ron. When she'd been with Ron, she'd always felt as if she needed to "be the grown-up", thinking and planning ahead, because she'd known that Ron wouldn't, that it just never occurred to Ron to analyze or consider very deeply. Part of her had appreciated-and still did- that spontaneity in Ron; it was something she didn't have and it did make for fun times. And fun had been in short enough supply during the War and immediately afterwards to make it even more precious to her. But she'd found that when they had settled into their normal, workaday lives, in the common light of common day, Ron's fun and spontaneity had gradually ceased to be an unequivocal good but had become irritating, even tiring. Because it was tiring, very tiring, to always have to be the adult in the relationship, to always have to be the reality check. It had been a relief, in that sense, to go back to simply being friends with Ron. With Ron just her best friend, she could simply have fun around him, could disagree with him and provide the reality check without the guilt.
"Hermione."
Hermione blinked, returning to the present to see Harry giving her a slightly quizzical smile. "You look awfully serious. A Galleon for your thoughts?"
She managed a laugh. "They're not worth a Knut. I was just trying to remember when the last time we had lunch, just the two of us, was."
He gave her a look of exaggerated dismay. "You mean you don't keep a mental calendar of every time you see me? I'm hurt."
"I know; it's terrible. I think I'm just too overcome with the honor of your company to remember the dates," she teased.
"Yes, well," Harry nodded solemnly. "I have that effect on a lot of people. I should come with a warning label, that people may be so over-awed by my sheer presence that they might suffer a temporary loss of memory and an inability to think straight."
She dissolved into laughter that he joined. "The only thing awe-inspiring about you, Harry, is the size of your ego," she teased.
He grinned. "I'll have you know I'm also known for my humility."
They exchanged grins that gradually faded into small smiles, their humor dissolving into a silence of simple friendship, a silence that lasted until after they had ordered and the server had left them.
"Harry, what was your impression of Jasper Traynor when you captured him?" she finally asked.
He hesitated, considering his answer for a moment. "A nasty piece of work," he summarized succinctly. "Cunning, arrogant, and all the more dangerous because he's also very dispassionate."
Hermione nodded, soberly. "That's what I thought too," she agreed, trying-and failing-to suppress a slight shiver at the thought. She hoped Harry wouldn't notice her automatic reaction, but, of course, he did.
His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied her. "What did he say when you went to see him?"
Being Harry, he knew her routine, knew that she generally only wore her official Enforcer robes to visit prisoners or when she had to argue her case before the Wizengamot, and that she visited the accused first whenever she had received a new case. He also knew the outline of what she said in those initial visits to prisoners, having accompanied her on a few of them soon after she'd begun work as part of his own Auror training, wanting to know every step of the process that occurred after the capture and before the trial.
She managed the faintest glimmer of a smile. "Well, I don't think he likes me very much," she said with forced lightness. And realized her mistake when Harry's expression didn't change except to become slightly sterner. She should have known better than to think she could avoid mention of her reaction to Traynor's menace by trying to make light of it. With Ron, she could have, but certainly not with Harry.
"What did he say?" Harry asked again.
"It was odd," she began honestly. "Unsettling, really. He declined counsel and seemed very confident that his trial was never going to take place."
"Defiance?"
"No," Hermione answered, drawing the word out thoughtfully. "It wasn't that so much as it was contempt. Defiance usually implies frustration, acknowledging that the other person has some power, but he didn't do that. He acted as if he were a lion being threatened by a gnat, as if it was beneath him to even acknowledge us."
"Hmm." Harry frowned. "I can see why that would be unsettling, but it could just be his way. I doubt it's in his character to acknowledge anyone else's authority and certainly not that of the law."
"True," Hermione agreed, feeling better. She always trusted Harry's opinion when it came to criminals. She knew he disliked it, understandably enough given all he'd had to go through to acquire this particular skill, but Harry's insight into Dark magic was trustworthy, his instincts about these things becoming honed over the years.
She paused and then found herself admitting, "He scared me a little. He was just so… evil." It was something she would not have admitted to anyone else, but she knew Harry, knew he would understand.
Harry smiled slightly, reassuringly. "He rather scared me too. He's not just a run-of-the-mill Dark wizard. He had the potential to be the next Voldemort."
"I know." Hermione paused and then added, "It's all the more intimidating because this is going to be the biggest, most high-profile case I've ever handled on my own. Damien said he'd had to persuade the higher-ups that I could handle it, and I'm not the most experienced Enforcer available by any means. I mean, normally it wouldn't have mattered so much, but this is Traynor and he's… well, he's the worst criminal I've had to prosecute and he was so dangerous…" She sighed. "With all that, do you still think I'm the best Enforcer to take on his case?"
He met her eyes. "Yes. You might be intimidated, but that's never stopped you from doing what you need to do before and it won't stop you now." He have her a half-smile. "It's what you do, Hermione. I know you, remember, so I know you'll do your job and do it well."
She smiled. "Thanks, Harry," was all she said, simply, but then with him, she didn't need to say more.
He returned her smile. "Anyway, for what it's worth," he said, his tone changing, becoming brisk, "you know you'll have the full support of the Aurors for anything you need."
"First, I'll just need to look through all your files on him from before his capture."
He inclined his head slightly. "They're in my office and are all yours. Anything else?"
"Not at the moment, but I'll let you know."
"Good."
They exchanged shared smiles before Harry smoothly switched to an entirely unrelated subject, relating a story he had heard.
Hermione made a teasing response, relaxing fully, as she pushed work out of her mind. There would be time for that later, but for now, she would just enjoy having lunch with her best friend.
~To be continued…~