Blood.
There was so much blood.
Why was there so much blood?
Hermione closed her eyes as she watched the Aurors cover the body with a thick, black wrap. Spells were already being used to clean up the pool of blood that collected around the dead corpse and the tears that were welling up within Hermione threatened to burst forward. Willing herself to calm down, Hermione looked up to see Seamus' concerned face.
The Irishman had always been kind to her and did his best during this case with neither Harry nor Ron in charge. Still, he wished he could have done more at the end and didn't expect this result at all. Maintaining as much professionalism as he could, Seamus procured a floating quill and parchment and leaned down to Hermione.
Sitting on her haunches against a wall, Hermione tore her eyes from the body and looked up at Seamus' blue orbs. She took a deep breath, trying to still the furiously beating heart in her chest. Her mind was still racing from the revelation, unable to cope with the reality of the situation.
"Can you tell me what happened?" Seamus asked, hoping to finish the interview as quickly as he could for her sake.
Sniffling, Hermione wiped away a little of the snot and moisture that had developed on her upper lip and said, "Yes…"
----------------------------
Appearing in front of the nondescript building, Hermione had a sense of déjà vu as she walked through the doors and down the long corridor to the security desk. Two different security guards were now in place though you would never know it if you were a Muggle. To Muggles, they seemed like receptionists for an unknown corporation, but the wands hidden beneath their desks betrayed their true positions.
Striding by without a word to the pair, Hermione jammed the elevator button, needing to reach Harry as quickly as possible. If what Nott said was true, he was still in potential danger and if Hermione couldn't figure out the perpetrator behind Ron's potential attacks, then two thirds of the Golden Trio would be imprisoned for life.
It was a testament to her strength that she didn't crumble on the spot or panic as she boarded the elevator. She couldn't remove the stench of vanilla from around her. It filled up her nose and wafted down her nasal passage until she could almost taste it. The stench made her want to vomit, reminding her of the diabolical place she just left. Using an air-cleaning spell, Hermione removed the smell from her clothes, but she could still feel the debauchery sticking to her skin, tainting and haunting her.
A soft chime indicated she arrived and the elevator doors opened to the cool blast of the Atrium. It was a little more busy than when she arrived earlier in the morning. Had it only been one day? Hermione pondered the question for just a second but pushed forward, trying to reach Harry and hopefully, Ron, before any more harm could come to them.
The teeming workers of the Ministry flitted about, constantly on the move with various tasks assigned to them by a conglomerate of superiors. She could only imagine that a few of them were on assignments designated towards Harry's impending trial, but it was all just a farce. Despite winning the war for them, Harry was still seen as a threat to the Pureblood establishment and while none of them approved of Voldemort's reign, there was still a strong sentiment of Wizarding importance.
But what people like even more is a villain.
Nott's devious words rung in Hermione's ears as she turned left and right, navigating through the maze of confusion with expert ease as she neared the Auror offices. It was easy for them to cast Harry as the villain. It was easy to unite against one person and if Harry was the villain, then someone else had to be the hero.
But Hermione could stop the entire train wreck before the engines even started. All she needed to do was figure who cast the memory charms on Ron. That is, if someone even cast the spells in the first place. There was no credence to Nott's stories, but it was the only lead Hermione had and the one that made most sense to her.
Bursting through the swinging double doors to the Auror office, Hermione peeked over the several cubicles as she first sought Ron and Ginny. Hopefully, even after her long disappearance, they would still be there. She spotted the fiery red hair of the two siblings conversing in Ron's cubicle and quickly walked to them, settling her mind and pretending to act as casual as she could.
"Hermione! Where've you been?" Ron jumped to his feet as soon as he spotted her. There was an amber drink in his hand, no doubt the store of Firewhiskey they kept here, and a pair of glasses told Hermione he wasn't the only one partaking.
"I…" Hermione faltered, quickly summoning a lie, "…thought I had a lead but nothing panned out."
She looked up at Ron, trying to see if there was something different that she missed. When you lived with someone, you tend to forget their specifics after a while. The normalcy and routine beat out the innate details of a person and they became more of a shape within your mind. Hermione accepted the shape, not particularly looking at his details even with her great mind.
But now, she summoned forth that intellectual speed to try and read Ron. Still, she was never the best at reading people, preferring to research and study with her mountain of books and resources. Reading people was a different art that required subtlety and nuance and unfortunately, Hermione was no artist in this regard. The best she could hope was that she knew Ron well enough to spot any irregular ticks.
Ginny, on the other hand, was another matter. Though she could probably consider themselves close friends, Hermione always felt the bond between them was born more out of necessity than acute friendship. She knew of her, but everything she knew of Ginny was from being around her rather than knowing her. Now, especially, she couldn't get a read on the youngest Weasley and so she focused on Ron instead.
Would he really be compelled to frame Harry?
"Ron, can I talk to you?" Hermione suddenly asked, surprising the pair.
"But don't you want to talk to Harry?" Ginny insisted, "Did you find anything at all from what you were investigating?"
Ginny might have been right, but Hermione had other matters she had to attend to. The look on Ron's face told Hermione that he agreed with his sister and Hermione realized she was fighting an uphill battle."
"Sure," she did her best not to sigh, "I'll talk to Harry."
As she turned towards the cell where they were keeping Harry for the time being, she heard Ron and Ginny stand up behind her. Flinching, she about faced and addressed them, hoping her voice came across as concerned for Harry's well being instead of dismissive.
"I need to talk to him alone though," Hermione said, hoping neither of them read into it too much.
If Hermione was poor at reading people, she also lacked a bit of disclosure sometimes. The dark face that spread across both of the Weasleys did not fly by Hermione and, try as hard as she could, she was unable to catalog their emotions.
Hurt. Jealousy. Confusion.
The range of emotions across each of their faces could have been there for a number of reasons and Hermione was no closer to finding out who Memory Charmed Harry, Ron, or both. She briefly though of simply asking the pair, but if one of them did do it, they would simply deny it. Framing Harry was not something you could just easily turn around and ask forgiveness for.
"Why do you need to talk to him alone? I think we'd all like to know what you did or didn't find," Ron frowned as he spoke.
Hermione bit her lip. Lying was not her strong suit, especially right to her friends, and she decided to play a card she usually dreaded.
"You'll just have to trust me, Ron."
Jealousy.
Hermione definitely didn't miss the flash across Ron's eyes when she spoke. If there was any doubt as to what Ron thought, that single moment gave clarity to the situation. Ron did well to hide it stoically, a feat Hermione once thought impossible of him, but she still caught the momentary lapse nonetheless. She suddenly felt cold and isolated, and wished to see Harry even in his barred state.
"I don't get it," Ginny looked back and forth between Ron and Hermione, "Why do you need to talk to him alone? I thought we did everything together."
The tone in Ginny's voice seemed genuine and confused. If she was a part of this act, she was a better actress than Hermione gave her credit for, but Ginny usually had her emotions worn on her sleeve. It was a Weasley trait and it disconcerted Hermione that it was Ron who was trying to mask emotions and not Ginny. She had hoped, entering the Ministry, that there was someone else responsible besides Ron, but her hope was quickly fading into darkness.
"Right," Hermione acquiesced, "Let's go then."
The pair entered the corner room before Hermione but not before Ginny spied the other girl with a suspicious look. Lingering in the office for just a moment, Hermione scribbled something down on a paper airplane and sent the enchanted messenger to a specific recipient. Who she was trying to contact was a risk, but the only one she surprisingly trusted at the moment.
Following the Weasleys into the cells, Hermione found that Ginny was already up against the glass barrier talking to Harry. Her hands were splayed across the glass, desperately trying to touch him and Hermione felt a pang in her chest for even suspecting the poor girl, but she had no choice. Though Ginny's motivations for wanting to frame Harry were near zero, she couldn't rule out any possible options.
"Did you find anything, Hermione?" Harry spotted her and asked her with a hopeful look on his face.
She could have easily said yes but explaining what she found would be difficult considering their current party. Then again, at what better point would she be able to deliver such controversial information? That was the question Hermione silently asked herself as she deliberated over her response. She would have to tell him eventually, and Harry would have to ask Ron and Ginny, and she would have to tell them where she heard this lore, and finally, they would have to ask Ron if he did it.
But she needed to know now; before Ron could muster a defense if he indeed framed Harry.
Ron would never do that! Jealous…yes…but never cruel…not like this…
Yet, Hermione was out of options and every moment brought them closer to Harry's false trial in front of the Wizengamot. They would surely convict him without a thought, happy to have a distraction from the revolution fermenting within the Ministry. Striking down Harry would give them a false hero and an opportunity to reverse all the hard work she and Harry had set out to accomplish. It would also certainly mean Azkaban for life for Harry Potter.
She could not risk it.
But what to do? What to do?
She delayed, hoping the letter would reach its destination in time and every second bought her another clue. Ron was looking back and forth between Harry and Hermione, waiting for an answer from his girlfriend while Ginny did the same. Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but for once, words failed her. The smell of vanilla, now mixed with the faint tint of Firewhiskey, rose to her nostrils once again and she fought the trembling of her weak stomach. When was the last time she had eaten?
"Hermione?" Harry questioned again, a little more concern in his voice.
"Well…" Hermione's voice cracked, betraying her confidence, "…its something that might help us."
There was a pause as Hermione bought more time, looking between Ron and Ginny and trying to decide their reactions. They both looked at her expectantly, nary a difference between their expressions. She was reminded how closely they resembled each other and their connection as siblings as they looked at her hopefully. Was it hope? Or was it treachery?
"Go on then," Harry urged, oblivious to the underlying tension.
Hermione was suddenly struck by an idea. It was dangerous, rash, and reckless. It was the sort of thing Harry used to do when he was an impulsive teenager and now it was Hermione who tried to find her resolve. She had no idea if it would work, but there were very little downsides if Ron and Ginny were both innocent.
"Harry," Hermione started cautiously, "We have to tell them."
Confusion passed across Harry's visage as he cocked his head, "Tell them what?"
Feigning a sigh and shuffling her feet, she looked down and, in her head, asked herself one more time if this was a good idea.
"Hermione!" Ginny said in an urgent voice, "Tell us what?!"
The moment would only last an instant and Hermione would have to look at them in the eyes to make sure she caught their reactions. Steeling her spine and defiantly raising her chin in a manner that suggested she was going to reveal the key piece of evidence that would crack this case, Hermione played her hand.
"We have to tell them we slept together."
It was just a snapshot, a frozen moment in time as their instant reaction appeared on their faces. It was said that if you looked straight into a person's eyes when you told them something they didn't expect, you would be able to read them for just a moment. Hermione didn't have a perfectly photographic memory, but it was close.
Harry was surprised. His eyes were as wide as saucers, his majestic green orbs dilated as he instantly denied the accusation. Hermione could already see the word, "No!" forming on his lips. The lines on his forehead and his raised eyebrows gave no doubt as to what he thought of the situation. Obviously, they had not slept together, and he was probably perplexed as to why Hermione would announce such a thing. The fading lightning bolt on his forehead distorted with his facial expression and Hermione could take at least a little solace that Harry didn't seem to know anything about this false act.
Ginny was hurt. There was a storm already brewing behind her chocolate eyes and the way her perfectly plucked eyebrows came together revealed her true emotions. Her face was squished together in that way people have right before they cry and Hermione swore she saw the glisten of tears already forming in her tear ducts. Her mouth was slightly agape in shock, the pink of her tongue barely visible under the light. Ginny's face had paled, the freckles burning even more brightly against her fair, smooth skin. It pained Hermione to put her friend through such doubt and confusion, but she had little choice.
She turned to Ron and her heart broke, shattering into irrecoverable pieces.
There was no surprise or hurt in his easily readable face. There were no almost-shed tears or pangs of confusion visible through his lovely eyes. His face was an even color even if there was the slightest hint of a flush around his ears and his neck; an indication he was unhappy or angry. His lips did not purse together in thought or drop open in shock. There was only one emotion that she could see written plainly across his fine features.
It was a knowing look.
"No," Hermione whispered, clasping her hands to his mouth as she realized Nott was telling the truth, "It can't be."
"What…are you talking about?" Ginny disengaged herself from the glass, the Weasley rage already manifesting itself in her shaking hands.
But Hermione ignored the younger Weasley, focusing all of her attention on Ron. There was a hard, cold fierceness in his eyes that scared her to the bone. His jaw was set in determination and she could feel the fiery passion he was radiating. She was suddenly reminded at how tall he was, how broad his shoulders were, how much stronger he was than her.
"Hermione!" Harry yelled, trying to gain her attention. For a brief moment, Hermione wondered if that is what Ron heard Harry yell in his planted memory, but she banished the thought, unable to summon such a convolution.
"Ron," she said, reaching out to him, "It's not true!"
How could she have missed it? How could she have not realized what Ron was plotting even if his motivations were not his own? Were they that far apart now?
"Don't tell me it's not true," Ron finally spoke, his words cold and mincing.
Ginny now turned to Ron in confusion, still completely out of the loop. Hermione could see the other girl seeking answers, but she had no time to explain every little detail to her. Knowing Ginny was in the clear, Hermione continued to focus on Ron, hopeful she could turn him from doing any more.
"I know what you think happened, Ron, but its not true," Hermione spoke slowly, hoping to get across to him.
"Don't speak to me like I'm a dumb," Ron scorned her, "That's probably why you did it, didn't you? Thought he was smarter than I was?"
Harry was beating against the glass, hoping he could get someone to tell him what in Merlin was happening. Hermione and Ron were locked in an epic stare down, each of them ignoring everything else. What Hermione said was a plain lie, but Harry believed she must have had a good reason for saying it. Why else would she cause such pain?
"Ron! Whatever you think you saw…whatever you think happened…its not real!" she explained.
"DON'T TELL ME IT WASN'T REAL!" Ron roared, pulling out his wand from his wrist holder.
With reflexes trained by years of Auror training, Ron easily disarmed Hermione and Ginny for extra measure. Harry grew even more befuddled, wondering what Ron thought he saw to provoke such a reaction. He beat against the glass futilely, helpless to stop whatever was happening.
"Ron! What are you doing?!" Harry exclaimed.
Whirling around and pointing his wand at Harry, he said, "Don't talk to me. Don't pretend you're not in on this as well."
"In on what?"
"You!" he pointed at Harry, "and you!" he pointed at Hermione, "You two think I didn't see?" He pointed at his eyes for extra emphasis.
"Running around behind my back. Visiting each other late at night in your offices and constantly staying late for work. Having your lunch dates and missing dinner at home because you had special projects and assignments. You told me it was nothing," Ron pointed an accusing finger at Hermione, "You told me there was nothing to worry about and it was all in my head."
"It is all in your head, Ron!"
Perhaps those were not the right words to say at the moment even if they were true. The phrase seemed to ignite Ron even further and sparks suddenly flew off from the tip of his wand, a sign of spontaneous magic that was supposedly long gone at this age.
"Is it?" Ron whispered the two words, but it sounded like a scream in their ears. Ginny was looking back and forth between all of them helplessly, not understanding what was happening.
"It's all in my head then when I saw the two of you fucking? It's all in my head when I saw you on his desk with your legs spread open? That was ALL in my head?!" Ron raged, turning to each of them with betrayal lacing every word and sentence.
"It was a planted memory, Ron. It wasn't real. None of that ever happened!" Hermione desperately explained, hoping to calm him down and tell him what Nott told her.
For a moment, Ron stopped, flustered by what Hermione was trying to say. Hermione could see a little bit of the old Ron as he tried to figure out the clues. Hoping to press the slight moment of reprieve, Hermione continued.
"It's a Memory Charm only in reverse and…"
"Shut up!" Ron interrupted her, clutching his head as if he were in pain, "You think you're so bloody smart and can just explain your way out of this? I know what I saw!"
"What the fuck?"
Draco had finally arrived, his wand already in his hand as he surveyed the scene with bewilderment. Ginny was pressed up against the glass barrier, unconsciously moving away from Ron. Harry was clawing at blockade, feeling an urge to stop the madness that had somehow overtaken Ron. Ron and Hermione were in the middle of the room, the former pointing his wand at the latter.
"Malfoy," Ron uttered the word with vile contempt, "What are you doing here?"
"Got a letter saying there was trouble. Figures it'd be you. You've gotten yourself into this one, Granger. Wonder what deus ex machina is going to save you now?" Draco sneered.
"Big word for a ferret," Ron shot back.
"There's three words, Weasel. Do get it right," Draco lazily drawled, but his shaking hand did nothing to convince Ron that Draco was confident.
His mind caught up to Draco's statements and Ron narrowed his eyes at Hermione again, "You sent for him? Him of all people? Don't tell me you're sleeping with him too!"
The distrust shouldn't have hurt her, but it still did, gnawing at her confidence. She was acutely aware of Draco protesting the mere suggestion she would sleep with him, but she tuned the blonde out, hoping there was still a solution to this quandary. Ron was on the precipice of doing something rash, his emotions controlling him at this point. She needed to calm him down.
"I sent for him because he could vouch for where I found all of this out," Hermione tried to placate him by placing her hands in front of her body in a sign of peace.
"Bullshit," Ron called, "I've had enough of all of your games. You think you can just play around in my head and convince me you're telling the truth? I'm not as dumb as you think I am."
"I don't think you're stupid at all, Ron," Hermione said in a sad voice.
"You must have if you thought you could get away with cheating on me. You think I'm oblivious to that?"
"Whoa," Draco was also surprised at the revelation, "I don't what you think happened Weasley but…"
"Shut up, Malfoy! Just shut your fucking mouth," Ron ordered.
Malfoy narrowed his silver eyes at him, "Weasley, put your wand down. I don't know - and frankly I don't care - what the hell is happening, but you're going to hurt someone at this rate."
"What's it to you, Malfoy? You got stock in Hermione as well?" Ron taunted.
"You're in over your fucking head, Weasel," Malfoy barked, ignoring the question, "Just put the wand down and you can fight it out without anyone dying on my watch."
Ron bit his lip and Hermione suddenly regretted sending for Draco. She had hoped that he would explain Cho's connections to Nott and back her story, but right now, he was only throwing oil into Ron's fire, igniting the fiery redhead into action.
"Leave, Malfoy," Ron coldly commanded.
Draco hesitated for a moment, looking around and wondering what he got himself into, but he stood his ground. He was a different person that he had been at Hogwarts and while he cared very little to the quartet in the room, he knew there was something amiss about the situation.
"I don't think I will, Weasley," Draco replied.
"Fine," Ron snorted.
The flash of spells occurred quickly and Hermione could only duck as they exchanged spell fire. They were both cursing each other, Ron slightly more experienced than Draco due to his superior training and Auror background. Draco was already in a panic, backpedaling with his eyes wide as he fended off various advanced curses. It was that panic that summoned a strange spell. As Draco uttered the incantation, Hermione's heart dropped, knowing there was only one person that knew the counter-curse.
And he was dead.
"Sectumsempra!" Draco wildly screamed, catching Ron off-guard.
Ron froze, surprised by the old and forgotten spell. He only stayed upright for a second before collapsing on the floor, his body shaking and convulsing as deep cuts appeared throughout his body.
"Ron!" Hermione and Ginny both cried, scrambling on their knees towards him.
The blood was pooling all over the ground, painting the floor in crimson red. It continued to spread, its radius ever growing as his body dumped liters and liters of blood out of his body.
Hermione was dimly aware of Harry furiously beating against the glass impediment, trying in vain to escape, but she couldn't hear what he was trying to say. There was a dull ringing in her ears that blocked out all other sounds as she cradled Ron's head. In the background, she heard Draco's stuttering and gawking as he watched the spell come into full effect. Ginny was weeping and wailing beside her, holding her bloody hands to her face in shock.
Hermione could only look at Ron's eyes, hoping she could tell him, it wasn't true. It never happened!
There were no spells or magic that could help him as the secret to his survival had long been buried under tomes in a lost cabinet in a room that had not been entered in ages. All they could do was watch as life slowly seeped out of Ron's body, ounce by ounce.
He turned to her one last time, suddenly confused and scared. Opening his bloody mouth, Ron softly uttered, in a whisper that was barely heard, "I'm sorry."
-------------------------------
Hermione was sitting across from Nott, in the same place she discovered the plot behind Harry's set up. She had entered the establishment, walking purposefully towards the two guards that blocked passage to his office. Knowing the routine, Hermione handed one of the guards her wand and here she was, staring at Nott.
He sat down, mixing a putrid looking drink of an unidentifiable substance. Gulping down the drink and making a face, Nott placed the cup down and offered it to Hermione.
"Drink?"
Narrowing her eyes, she said, "No, thank you."
Nott shrugged, faking sympathy, "I'm sorry for your loss, Granger. Trust me, I didn't want to see it play out the way it did. I only have orders."
"Of course you do," Hermione casually answered.
"It was a shame Draco was sent to Azkaban for killing him. He was only trying to defend you, after all. At least Potter made it out okay, right? Isn't that what you wanted all along?"
His condolences seemed authentic, but Hermione could detect the slightly smug undertone. It was in his eyes, dancing about and mocking her even if his words said something completely different.
"I suppose I could have done something, but I thought I did my part by telling you," Nott said as he finished the rest of his drink, "What's little ol' magical me going to do about all this crime?"
Nott continued to prattle on, mimicking apologies and sympathies. She watched him, her arms and legs crossed in a comfortable manner as he continued to brag about his involvement and simultaneously absolve himself of any wrong doing.
"I suppose you're here to ask me who I got my orders from? I'm sorry to say that he was just a dark, mysterious fellow that offered me a sum of money to spin you a little story and distract you for a while. If I would have known what was going to happen…"
You would have done nothing. You don't care at all.
Hermione was fuming but kept her emotions in check, knowing she would have to extract every bit of information out of him to make sure. She had to be sure.
"I was thinking," Hermione interrupted his jabbering, "how the person did it? It would have taken someone with great ability to plant such a real memory in Ron's head and simultaneously wipe out Harry's own. He would have had to teach Ron the spell himself so Ron could do it to Harry."
"Yes," Nott concurred, nodding his head and looking off in the distance, "Great talent."
"Indeed," she icily agreed, "you don't just happen onto that sort of skill. It takes years of refinement."
"He must have been well trained."
"He probably was. Self-trained, at that," Hermione said.
"And do you have a clue?" Nott sipped the last vestiges of his drink, wincing slightly at the bitter aftertaste.
'I didn't initially. I was busying burying him, you see? While there are plenty of people that could have performed that spell, you would still need great motivation. We were great threats to the Wizengamot, but none of them bore that type of grudge. Whoever did this to them wanted revenge. Don't you agree?"
"I think so," Nott assented, "Of course, I don't have to tell you they have a lot of enemies."
"Yes, they do, but this was…personal…"
Hermione trailed off, never removing her eyes from Nott. The other man wasn't looking at her, preferring to busy himself with something on the adjacent wall, but she could still see the tiniest hint of a smirk at the corner of his lips. The anger boiled inside her, but she was motivated and kept it in check.
"It actually didn't take me too long to figure out who did it," Hermione admitted.
"Oh really?" Nott looked surprised, but Hermione expected this was just a façade as well. Everything seemed to be a façade concerning Nott. "Who then?"
"It actually should have been quite obvious. Personal grudge, devious personality, expert in Memory Charms. Its just that it was so long ago that everyone had forgotten about him. He was nothing."
"Nothing, you say?" Nott rhetorically asked with raised eyebrows, "I guess he's not nothing anymore."
"No," Hermione thoughtfully agreed, "He's definitely on everyone's radar. The Unspeakables agreed that Ron had a memory implanted to his brain. The magical signature was rather compelling."
"Brilliant piece of magic. I apologize if that's insensitive," Nott offered.
"No apology needed. It was rather brilliant."
Hermione could see Nott's chest puff out just a fraction. He was well schooled, Nott, but she was aware of every tiny movement and action on his part.
He caught her eye and smiled, the wide grin reaching his eyes, "How long are we going to go on about this, Hermione?"
"I actually wouldn't have pieced it together if I didn't clean up Ron's cubicle myself. It was there I found the case he was working on. It was about a man that escaped St. Mungo's after years of instability."
"Dreadful place," Nott commented.
"It really is…isn't it, Lockhart?"
If possible, Nott's smile grew even wider, the smugness etched in every line and crevice on his face.
"I should have known. Only someone with years of experience in Memory Charms would have thought of a spell that could create memories as well. Tell me, what's the incantation for it?" Hermione asked.
"Incepto," the person who looked like Nott responded.
"Of course," she murmured, "And Ron was the one that made you lose your memory in the first place though I suppose your memory eventually came back to you."
"They told me it always would. Imagine my surprise when I emerge from a cloud of haziness to a world that didn't even know who Gilderoy Lockhart was? Oh no, I couldn't stand for that."
"Nope. Did it turn you crazy in there? Not knowing who you were?"
Lockhart shrugged, the body that was not his copying the movement, "I was in a different mind set when I recovered my lost memories, I agree, but I'm different now. More…purposeful."
"Indeed," Hermione was tired of all the games, "And here we are with me about to kill you."
"Kill me?!" Lockhart laughed and yelled at the same time, "And how are you going to manage that without your wand?"
BANG.
BANG.
BANG.
Hermione stood up to Lockhart's surprise. She had begun carrying a gun around her in case she ever lost her wand. Considering all the threats and enemies that she had made over the years, it only made sense to have some sort of protection that most wizards wouldn't imagine. She had to be sure that Nott was Lockhart. She needed to confirm it was him. After infiltrating Nott's apartment and finding it generally unused, Hermione and Harry surmised that Lockhart must have been keeping Nott's body alive somewhere inside the whorehouse.
She watched as the body slowly transformed, the skin paling and aging and the hair morphing from black to blonde. Gilderoy Lockhart was much older and years of insanity within St. Mungo had aged his face exponentially. Even after his transformation, Hermione could still see the faint lines of a smirk at the corner of his lips, forever laughing at Hermione for not piecing the puzzle together soon.
She stowed the gun away, knowing it was too loud for his guards to hear anything. Leaving without another word, she returned to her flat here Harry was waiting. He was unable to accompany her as he would have immediately aroused suspicion. She nodded once to him and then crumbled his arms, weeping and crying. She felt his tears splash upon hers, mixing together as they mourned the loss of their best friend. Hermione didn't trust the Wizengamot to enact the right sort of justice on Lockhart so she had taken matters into her wand. There were consequences, however, but the pair had already thought the plan through.
The next morning, the Daily Prophet ran a shocking headline that would be the most talked about case for the next century.
GILDEROY LOCKHART, THE MAN BEHIND THE CURTAIN
---------------------
Hermione was on a beach, basking in the sunlight and reading an admittedly escapist novel about children hunting each other. The wind fluttered about her, cooling her warm skin from the blazing sun overhead. She had moved away from England long ago, avoiding trial for her crimes. Though they knew she was guilty, the Ministry did not make any serious attempts to find her. Perhaps this was due to the Head Auror, Seamus Finnigan, being her friend, but she cared not.
Hermione Granger feared very little these days.
All she wanted was some peace and quiet.
A man emerged from the water, his dark hair matted against his head. He was much tanner now due to years of living with her in this sunny paradise. He shook his head, gleefully ridding of the water in his ears as he padded his way across the white sand. Grabbing a towel, Harry Potter rubbed his hair, flicking some stray droplets onto Hermione.
"Book," Hermione uttered one word, hoping he would avoid the novel in her hands.
Harry laughed and sat down next to her, curling his arm behind her neck and tucking her head into his chest. Kissing the top of her head, Harry leaned back and sighed.
"How's the book?" Harry asked.
"Good. They'll probably make a movie out of it," Hermione idly responded as she took comfort in his wet skin cooling her hot face.
Snorting, Harry responded, "Don't they always?"
They fell silent for a moment, simply enjoying the crashing waves and the bright sun painted against the clear, blue skies. Parents and children were standing in the low surf, playing with each other without a care in the world. Three teenagers, two boys and a girl, walked along the beach, laughing gaily at something one of them said. There was a pang in her chest as she looked at them.
Harry noticed she had fallen quiet and followed her gaze to see the source of her sadness. It didn't take him to long to figure out what was troubling her. Rubbing her arm and squeezing her shoulder, Harry pulled her closer. Hermione accepted the comfort, wrapping her arms around Harry's waist as she continued watching the trio.
"Do you miss him sometimes?" Harry asked.
Hermione continued to watch as the trio continued down the beach until they disappeared around a bend, the tops of their heads slowly vanishing from sight.
"I do."
Harry nodded and sighed, kissing the top of her head.
"Me too."
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A/N: What'd you think? Sad? Not sad? Did you guess the twist? Not enough H/Hr? I'm sorry this wasn't longer. It was only ever just a short story. Leave your reviews and thoughts!