The Boy-Who-Killed by Kwan

Rating: R
Genres: Drama, Mystery
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 17/04/2012
Last Updated: 27/04/2012
Status: Completed

Blood. There was so much blood. Why was there so much blood? Short Story. Completed




1. It Will Have Blood, They Say; Blood Will Have Blood
------------------------------------------------------

Blood.

There was so much blood.

Why was there so much blood?

Harry sat up and he realized the bed was soaked in red, the crimson flowing off the threads of
fabric and dripping onto the ground. The air stank of dehydrated cheese and expired milk, mixing in
with another foul order that Harry couldn’t quite place.

He was naked, but he couldn’t remember why or how he got there. As he placed his hand down to
push off the bed, he was meet not with the soft push of the bed but something else entirely. Dread
crawled straight through his fingertips and to his head when he registered what he was holding.

Turning his head and confirming what his nerve endings already told him, Harry saw that his hand
was placed on a woman’s body.

A dead woman’s body.

One look at the slack jaw and the surprised expression in her eyes confirmed the woman was Cho.
Yet, as Harry searched his memory for any recollection of what happened, he retrieved nothing. The
last thing he could remember was leaving the Ministry of Magic.

Looking at Cho again, Harry realized a long gash drawing straight across her throat as the
source of liters of blood. She, too, was naked, her pale skin contrasting horribly against the red
splatters of blood that had evidently flown from her jugular.

Harry felt sick, the bile rising in his throat as his vision swayed and he scrambled to get off
the bed. He had to get away from here. He had to tell someone what happened.

POP.

POP.

POP.

No less than three wizards Apparated straight into the room. Harry twirled around, confusion
wracking his body as he spotted the tell tale dark robes of Aurors. The trio of Aurors already had
their wands out, but all three of them were just as surprised to see Harry standing there, naked
and coated in blood.

“Wait!” Harry cried.

“*STUPEFY!”*

*-----------------*

Hermione was enjoying a nice dream where she was on a beach drinking a Pina Colada and reading
this admittedly escapist book about children hunting each other as game. The sand stuck in between
her toes and she smiled contently as the sun beat down on her skin. It was perfect except for this
absurdly loud alarm ringing in her ear. She looked around the beach, trying to find the source of
the sound. It was only when she looked up and realized the sun was flashing red intermittently.

*RING.*

*RING.*

*RING.*

She cracked open her eyes, wary of the magically enhanced phone sitting at her bedside table.
Trying to hold onto some semblance of her Muggle upbringing, Hermione had Arthur alter the phone so
her secretary could reach her without having to use the Floo or send an owl. But right now, she
hated herself for coming up with the idea.

“Is there cake?” Ron mumbled beside her.

“Go back to sleep, Ron,” Hermione plucked Ron’s heavy arm from around her waist as she swung her
legs and tiredly rubbed her eyes.

*RING.*

“I get it, I get it,” Hermione moaned at the phone and she picked up the receiver.

“Granger,” she complained into the phone.

“Hermione,” said a deep voice that definitely wasn’t her secretary, “You’re going to want to
come down to the Ministry.”

“Kingsley?” Hermione asked as she sat a little straighter. The Minister knew this number only
for dire emergencies. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t discuss this over the phone, but it’s incredibly urgent,” Kingsley sounded grave.

“Okay,” Hermione confusedly agreed, “What’s this about though? It’s four in the morning on a
Saturday.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line and Hermione imagined that Kingsley was
calculating whether or not it was secure enough to transmit the information over the phone.
Sighing, Hermione said, “Kingsley, it’s okay. I’ll be there in -”

“It’s about Harry.”

Hermione’s stomach immediately dropped and the phone slipped a little bit from her grasp.
Emotions that had not overcome her since the war were back in a flash. The worrying knot that
resided in her stomach for all her Hogwarts years was slowly building, the source of it residing
with one person.

Harry.

Immediately assuring Kingsley she would be there in an instant, Hermione dialed a different
number on the phone and waited for a response. There was nothing on the end but a disconnected
line. Making a frustrated noise, Hermione ran a hand through her hair as she deduced why Harry’s
personal phone wouldn’t be working. There were a myriad of reasons ranging from him having the
phone off to the magical properties malfunctioning. Not for the first time, she wished Ginny had
given in to getting a phone so she could at least contact her. Ginny reasoned that since she and
Harry were living together, she didn’t need her own phone.

Stupid girl.

Hermione ran to the living room, immediately throwing Floo Powder into the fireplace and calling
for Ginny.

“Ginny!” Hermione called, looking around Harry and Ginny’s flat to see if there were any signs
of activity. A kitchen light was on and the living area was fastidiously clean, a hallmark of being
a Weasley matron, but there were no other signs that anyone was home. Why would Ginny be out at
this hour?

She thought about Apparating to their flat but decided if Kingsley needed her for something
concerning Harry, the stupid boy would probably be at the Ministry already. Hermione hoped to
Merlin that one of the few remaining Death Eaters had not caught up to the Boy-Who-Won, but
couldn’t spare another speculation as to what happened. Rushing back into her room, she waved her
wand and out jumped her Ministry clothing and robes.

Ron, ever the heavy sleeper, awoke from the commotion and rubbed his eyes like a newborn baby as
he looked at Hermione.

“Hermione? What are you doing?” Ron asked as he sat up. “It’s four in the morning!”

“Something’s happened,” Hermione impatiently snapped as she stripped off her clothing and
hurriedly put on her pants and blouse.

Ron’s eyes lingered for a moment on Hermione’s naked form, but he shook his head and asked her,
“What’s happening at the Ministry?”

Hermione bit her lip, closing her eyes as she was suddenly sent back to her Hogwarts days.

“It’s Harry.”

Ron immediately hopped out of bed, waving his wand and summoning his clothes as well. His face
was grim as he quickly dressed with Hermione. They made eye contact, knowing Ron’s involvement was
inevitable even if Kingsley only called on Hermione. They were the trio and if something happened
to Harry, Ron would be right at his side.

“Are you ready?” Hermione asked as she fastened the clasp of her robe. Ron nodded and they
simultaneously Apparated to just outside a modern building in London.

Stepping inside, Hermione crossed the sharp tile in the bare hallway. At the end of the hallway
was a desk with two people manning their stations. Behind them was what looked to be a normal
elevator.

“Ms. Granger? Mr. Weasley?” asked the desk guard in confusion, “What are you doing here at this
hour?”

“The Minister has summoned us,” Hermione impatiently informed them.

Looking down at the computer monitor in front of him, the desk guard nodded his head as he saw
the magically updated monitor confirm Hermione’s summoning. He looked at Ron and the redhead simply
glowered, perfected with years of training, at the guard. Gulping, the guard nodded them through
and opened the elevator.

The elevator was enhanced to magically accommodated the number of people entering. It was far
more updated than the juvenile method of being flushed down a toilet. The elevator thundered down
many floors until it came to a gentle stop, the trip lasting less than ten seconds. The door opened
with a chime and Hermione stepped into the atrium of the Ministry.

The many statues of the different magical creatures had been replaced with just a fountain.
There was no way Hermione was going to let that unequivocal monstrosity stand there and made it one
of her first items on her agenda to destroy those statues when she became the liaison to Muggle
Affairs. Though it wasn’t a particularly high position in the Ministry, she was still one of the
golden trio and used that fact for a rare favor.

Hermione and Ron strode purposefully to the Minister’s office where they presumed he would be
waiting for them. The hallways were empty, the steady clapping of their feet filling the Ministry
halls. It was eerie in it’s emptiness as neither of them were rarely here at this time. Ron’s mind
flashed back to their time here in their Fifth year at Hogwarts and goosebumps broke out along his
skin. He could only hope something similar was not about to happen.

Opening the Minister’s door without warning, Hermione was surprised to find Kingsley and Seamus,
Harry’s third-in-charge, waiting for them. Kingsley only had a flash of mild surprise at Ron’s
appearance but doused the appearance immediately. Standing up, he motioned for them to take a
seat.

Hermione remained standing, her face stony as she asked, “What’s going on, Minister?”

Kingsley sighed, the age and creases crinkling along his dark face. He was skinnier after the
War, the tolls of the Ministry and politics trimming his weight. His eyes were more sunken in and
his cheeks hollow from lack of sleep, but he looked even worse at this early hour.

“Harry’s in trouble.”

Ron and Hermione both gulped, knowing if they were being summoned at four in the morning, it was
something deadly. Hermione nodded at Kingsley to continue. Kingsley, in turn, motioned for Seamus
to step up. Their former housemate looked at them in the eye, knowing them long enough to be
straight forward.

“A couple of hours ago, Harry was found in a Muggle hotel with…Cho Chang,” Seamus let the
statement linger for a moment, allowing them a chance to interject.

Thoughts raced through Hermione’s head, the very first one shaming her. The connotations of
being in a Muggle hotel with another woman were traitorous in nature, but she gave Harry the
benefit of the doubt. He was the purest person she knew and until she received every fact, she
would withhold judgment.

“We were tipped off by an anonymous source -” Seamus started again but was interrupted by
Hermione.

“Anonymous? How?” Hermione questioned in a clipped tone.

“A letter left at the station’s desk upstairs.”

“I’ll need to see that.”

“Of course,” Seamus nodded, “The source gave us the address of the hotel in question and marked
it as concerning Death Eaters. I tried to contact Harry but he was unavailable. As I was the only
one in the station at the moment, I took Billingsley and Axford with me. We Apparated straight into
the room and found Harry and Cho. Except…Cho was dead.”

Hermione blinked, definitely not expecting that. She could deal with something more
*emotional*, but Cho’s death immediately complicated things. A small bit of her felt remorse
for the death of one of her former classmates, but Hermione had seen many deaths in her times and
stuck to the task at hand.

“And then?” Hermione tapped her foot, tired of getting small pieces of the story.

“Axford panicked and Stunned him. Harry was…unarmed,” Seamus shifted uncomfortably, a movement
that did not pass Hermione, “We took him in but the crime scene was gruesome.”

“*Crime* scene?” Hermione’s eyebrows immediately shot to her head and her hand
unconsciously moved to her wand. Beside her, Ron bristled at the implication and glared at Seamus.
Bowing his head in a defeated manner, Seamus pressed on.

“Yes, Hermione. It looked like a crime scene. Cho was spread on the bed, naked and her throat
severed. There was blood everywhere, including *on* Harry. You know as well as I do that I
would never think that it was Harry, but what were we supposed to do?”

Seamus tried to placate them. He was a good person and Seamus regularly fought for them during
the Second Wizarding War, so at this point, Hermione had no reason to distrust him.

At this point.

“We did everything we could,” Seamus somberly informed them, “We gave him Veritaserum. We hooked
him up to the Muggle polygraph. We got an Unspeakable to perform a *Legillemens* on him…but it
looks like he killed Cho.”

“This is ridiculous,” Ron gestured wildly, throwing his hands in the air. “Harry? *Kill*
Cho? Did Fred come back from the dead to pull a prank on us?”

Seamus flinched at the sound of the dead twin’s name but held steady and shook his head, “We
tested him several times already and even he can’t remember how he got there. Everything else says
he killed Cho.”

“LISTEN TO YOURSELF!” Ron bellowed at Seamus, breaking the hush silence that had enveloped the
room. “This is Harry. Harry fucking Potter, Boy-Who-Won and all that nonsense. Why, in Merlin’s
name, would he kill Cho? He’s obviously been set up.”

“We agree,” Kingsley suddenly said, interjecting for the first time in a while. “The Harry I
know would never do something like this. That’s why we’ve called you here. We need help cleaning
this up and getting to the bottom of this.”

Hermione chewed the inside of her cheek, thousands of scenarios and theories firing away in her
brain. Harry didn’t kill Cho; that much was clearly obvious to anyone that ever knew Harry. He had
years of character background and multiple character witnesses that would vouch him.

But he also had many enemies.

“Who else knows?” Hermione quickly asked.

“Axford, Billingsley, and us. The Unspeakable knows, of course, but considering their
position…”

“And where are Axford and Billingsley now?”

“In the Auror office, keeping watch over Harry. I put him in a solitary cell away from anyone
else in case someone decided to show up to work early,” Seamus puffed his chest, proud of his quick
thinking.

“Lock them down. Immediately,” Hermione ordered. Swiveling, she addressed Kingsley directly,
“Absolutely no leaks to the press. If anyone asks, Harry’s taking a small vacation. Where’s
Ginny?”

Kingsley frowned, not expecting that question, “I assumed Ginny was at their flat. Have they
been having…problems?”

Ron turned to Hermione, knowing that she, more likely than him, would know of any relationship
issues between Harry and Ginny. It wasn’t that Ron didn’t care, but he preferred not knowing the
details of the relationship between his best friend and his sister. Hermione shook her head but it
wasn’t without a small bit of hesitation.

“Not that I know of. You’ll need to get her and fill her in right away,” Hermione commanded.

“I can do that,” Ron immediately offered.

Sending a thankful expression his way, Hermione agreed, “Go right now. Time is of the essence.
Make sure she talks to *no one*. It’s imperative, Ron.”

Ron nodded and left the room to retrieve the youngest Weasley. Exhaling, Hermione rubbed her
temples, trying to think of any other possible leaks. It’s not that she didn’t trust Seamus’
fastidiousness. After all, Harry did make him is third in command, but Hermione trusted herself
more in these types of situations.

“Think, Seamus. Is there anyone else that you came in contact with from the time you Apparated
to the hotel to right now?” Hermione interrogated the Irishman.

“We arrived there. We took him in to the Ministry. I called Kingsley. We fetched an Unspeakable.
And then you,” Seamus counted off the list of events leading to that very moment.

“Hold on,” Hermione paused, “You took him into the Ministry. How?”

“Through the front, but he was bagged and unconscious. It’s standard protocol for captures,”
Seamus answered.

“Dammit, Seamus!” Hermione groaned.

“What?! I did everything by the book!” Seamus defended himself.

“The elevator records a log of everyone that comes in. Harry’s magically registered to the
system!”

“He’s going to pop up in the registry,” Seamus paled as he realized his error.

Hermione was already rushing out of the room before Kingsley could stop her, sprinting to the
clerical office where the records of all magical entries were logged. The Ministry, ever since the
end of the War, kept accurate records of the comings and goings of everyone registered. It kept the
Ministry more secure from infiltrations or teenagers thinking they had to save someone. Even if
Seamus brought Harry under a bag to conceal his identity, the second he passed through the
elevator, his name was logged in a small book in a back corner office.

Rounding the corner at breakneck speed, Hermione was thankful no one else was there yet. It
would have been highly suspicious to see the head of Muggle Affairs sprinting down the corridors
and what Hermione didn’t need was anything remotely suspiciously attached to her. Slowing down and
collecting herself before entering the Ministry Records department, she slowly opened the door and
hoped that no one would be working at the time.

Unfortunately, one poor soul worked the graveyard shift.

Her name was Sarah something-or-the-other. She went to Hogwarts as Hermione was leaving and
there was a tiny bit of guilt at not knowing her name, but how was she supposed to keep track of
everyone? Despite the acumen of knowledge at her disposal, Hermione didn’t have an eidetic memory.
Willing herself to calm down, Hermione approached Sarah something.

“Hi there, Sarah!” Hermione cheerfully greeted, “How are you?”

Sarah snapped her head up and Hermione caught the rather explicit cover of some trashy romance
novel. The plain and slightly overweight brunette blushed as she stowed away the book and looked up
in surprise to see the head of Muggle Affairs in the records room.

“Ms. Granger! What are you doing here so early?” Sarah asked in confusion.

“Got to do some early work with goblins and Muggles in China. Different hours there so I had to
show up to work early for a Floo meeting,” Hermione smoothly lied, presenting an completely
believable story to anyone who didn’t work within her department.

Sarah blanched at having to wake up so relatively early just to make a meeting. “Well, what can
I do for you?”

“I was just wondering if I could see the records log for arrivals and departures for today,”
Hermione had no choice but to ask her directly.

“Sure!” Sarah responded in a cheery manner. “Who are you looking for?”

“Well - that’s the thing -” Hermione flashed her a winning smile, “I was wondering if I could
read it with some privacy. It’s a bit *sensitive* in nature.”

There was a moment’s hesitation in Sarah’s eyes as she knew this definitely wasn’t protocol.
Internally, Hermione was already growing frustrated and impatient with Sarah’s stalling. There were
far more important matters at hand than trying to convince the records clerk to see the books, but
she had limited options with limited help.

“It’s about Death Eaters,” Hermione hated to play this card, but she was left with no
choice.

“Oh! Ohhh!” Sarah exclaimed as she connected the dots. “Of course, Ms. Granger. Let me get
today’s books. *Accio Logs*!”

The book zipped out of a bottomless trunk and landed neatly on her desk. Thanking her, Hermione
immediately grabbed the book and flipped through the pages to find the right time.

She paused as she saw the record logs for Friday.

*9:37 pm - Harry Potter. Exit.*

*9:45 pm - Hermione Granger. Exit.*

Hermione had met with Harry after a grueling day trying to convince the American Ministry of
Magic to convene with their own Ministry in hopes of discussing their long term plans for
Afghanistan. Unfortunately, they were reluctant and slow to respond and forced her to stay late at
the office. Harry, fresh off an assignment, met her at her office for just a few minutes before
leaving. Hermione departed not long there after and at least she could nail down the timeframe.

Flipping through just two pages of arrivals and departures, Hermione scrolled down until she
found what she was looking for.

*1:42 am Chad Axford. Enter.*

*1:42 am John Billingsley. Enter.*

*1:42 am Seamus Finnigan. Enter.*

*1:42 am Harry Potter. Enter.*

She repressed a gasp, confirming that Seamus was indeed telling the truth. The four of them
probably entered the elevator as one and then escorted Harry to the Auror cells. She
surreptitiously looked up to see Sarah idly filing her nails. Hermione needed to find a way to just
have a minute of privacy to remove Harry’s name from the records. Faking a yawn, Hermione stretched
an arm over her head for further proof of her exhaustion.

“Sarah, I know this is too much of me to ask for you, but could you get me a cup of coffee? I’m
not used to waking up so early,” Hermione pleaded in what she hoped was a begging voice.

Sarah smiled and responded, “Of course! I need to stretch my legs anyways. Can you just make
sure to place the logs back in that trunk once you’re finished?”

Hermione responded positively, thankful the girl took the bait. As soon as Sarah left the room,
Hermione summoned her wand and immediately erased Harry’s name from the list. She performed the
spell again just in case to make sure the spell worked and waited for a moment to see if it would
regenerate on the page. She wasn’t familiar with the exact type of magic used for the logs.

Thankfully, Harry’s name vanished.

She scrolled down the page, trying to find anyone else that could have possibly seen Harry. They
didn’t list the official titles besides the people who entered and left the building, but if
Hermione didn’t immediately notice them, they weren’t important officials. Still, anyone that saw
Harry would inevitably leak the story to the press and then she wouldn’t be able to contain it.
Sighing, she saw the last two people to enter were Ron and herself.

But then a name started to magically appear, the ink writing itself without a quill. Entranced,
Hermione watched the name slowly appear into view, her stomach dropping as the last spot of ink
settled.

*4:37 am Draco Malfoy. Enter.*

*----------------------------------------*

Harry groaned as he placed his head in his hands for the millionth time. He had spent the last
hour trying to retrace his steps, but the last thing he could remember was leaving the Ministry of
Magic after talking to Hermione. Desperately, he sought for the smallest shred of the events
afterwards, but he couldn’t remember a single thing.

Not one thing.

Of course, the next thing he knew, he was in bed with a dead Cho Chang and the Aurors had
immediately showed up. It made absolutely no sense in his mind and he begged Seamus to give him
Veritaserum to prove his worth. Yet, right after he drank the truth serum, he confessed to killing
Cho Chang. It had shocked him just as much as the three Aurors in charge of the interrogation and
Harry immediately asked for another form of validation. They hooked him up to a special Muggle lie
detector and asked him the question again.

“Did you kill Cho Chang?”

“No.”

Even from his position, Harry could see the paper scratching wildly, indicating Harry was lying.
Seamus shook his head again, futilely trying to find a way to prove Harry’s innocence even when
every test failed.

Harry’s mind believed he killed Cho Chang.

But it didn’t make any *sense*. Harry pleaded his case to Seamus and a suddenly less than
helpful Axford and Billingsley. He knew them both as solid Aurors, yet they were interrogating the
Chief Auror and finding him guilty of murder so far. Seamus retrieved an Unspeakable to perform an
invasive investigation into his mind, but the Unspeakable concluded the same thing.

*Harry Potter killed Cho Chang*.

The Unspeakable wrote it down on a piece of parchment as soon as he was finished and left the
room. He offered no judgment either way and probably didn’t care too much for day to day
procedures. If there was ever a group of people that was almost unbiased, it would be the
Unspeakables.

So Harry sat on the small cot in his cell, desperately hoping for someone to arrive to at least
tell him what was happening. Not knowing, especially for someone of Harry’s impatient nature, was
eating him alive. As the door swung open, Harry leaped to his feet, hoping that Seamus would at
least come back with some news.

Yet, it was not Seamus but Hermione that walked through the light.

“Hermione!” Harry rushed up to the glass that kept him imprisoned.

“Harry!” Hermione rushed towards him and placed her hand on his from across the barrier. She
looked up at him with pain and remorse in her eyes but hidden beneath the sadness was a burning
fire. A thirst for knowledge and justice that Harry saw frequently when she discussed equality for
creatures and Muggles.

“Are you okay? How are they treating you? Ron’s coming back with Ginny if you were wondering. No
one knows so far,” Hermione rapidly fired off statements and questions, filling Harry’s desire to
know.

“I’m…okay,” said a clearly rattled Harry, “Axford and Billingsley are good guys. I
just…Hermione, you have to believe me.”

Harry pleaded with her, hoping that his worse nightmare wouldn’t come true and his friends would
turn his back on him when he needed them the most.

“I’ll always believe you, Harry,” Hermione whispered with watery eyes.

And it was true. Apart from an incident involving a Firebolt, Hermione never wavered when asked
to stand by Harry’s side and even when Harry demanded her to leave. If there was one proven
constant to Harry, it was that Hermione would always have his back. Exhaling deeply and nervously
laughing, Harry stepped back from the glass and ran both of his hands through his messy hair.

“I don’t know what happened, Hermione! I was talking to you, I left, then - nothing. Just
nothing! Next thing I know I’m in that hotel room with Cho and she was…she was dead,” Harry
explained.

“Seamus and Kingsley filled me in with as much as they know. Harry, you have to know that I
believe you. You would *never* do this. You would *never* kill anyone in cold blood, much
less someone that was your friend. Just tell me, Harry. Tell me everything,” Hermione said.

“I…I got off the Thorfinn Rowle case and headed to your office to see how you were,” Hermione
nodded as Harry spoke, confirming that indeed happened, “We joked about Ginny and you asked for
tickets to her game and I told you I’d get you them by tomorrow. I walked out of the Atrium and up
the elevator and then…nothing. That’s it.”

“Nothing else?” Hermione bit her lip, an obvious tell that she was worried.

“I can’t,” Harry aguishly explained.

“Think! Close your eyes and try to recapture every single detail,” Hermione urged as she stepped
forward and pressed her forehead against the glass.

Closing his eyes, Harry leaned forward too, pressing his forehead against the glass so if there
were no barriers, their heads would be touching.

“I…I…remember the elevator going up. I felt it shooting up from beneath me. There wasn’t anyone
else there with me. I…I…”

“You can do it.”

“There was a bright light. Something happened. A spell, maybe?” Harry offered, hoping that his
memory would come back. He squinted his eyes, hoping the extra effort would retrieve the lost
narrative, but nothing else came to mind.

“It’s okay,” Hermione eased his frustration, “That’s a good clue. Someone must have cursed you
at the top of the elevator. But the desk guard…”

“The Records Department keeps files as to who was on shift at the time,” Harry quickly answered,
familiar with the crevices and workings of the Ministry.

“I know,” Hermione rolled her eyes, “I’ve already been there to wipe your name off the arrival
and departure logs.”

“To make sure no one knows,” Harry murmured, “Good girl.”

Hermione gave a slight smile at the compliment and put her hand where Harry’s chest would be,
“We’ll get you out of here, Harry. Hopefully, Ron is getting Ginny soon so you can see her
too.”

His chest heaving, Harry sighed to relieve a small fraction of stress, “Good. She’s going to
worry.”

“This is all just a misunderstanding. Ron called it a set-up as soon as Seamus explained what
happened.”

“Did he yell?” Harry wryly grinned.

Hermione smiled, “Of course.”

The door banged open and Hermione jolted away from the glass barrier with a start. Expecting the
two Aurors guarding the door, Hermione was surprised to see Seamus striding through with a grim
look on his face and something in his hand.

“Hermione, you need to see this,” Seamus addressed her as if Harry wasn’t there.

Seamus thrust the paper in her hands and judging from Hermione’s expression, it wasn’t anything
good. Closing his eyes, Harry turned and leaned backwards against the glass barrier, knowing the
likely contents.

“Let me see it,” Harry turned around and placed his hands against the glass.

“Harry, I don’t know if…” Hermione started.

“Let me see it,” Harry quietly demanded. Years ago, when they were just children, Hermione would
have been more stubborn and protective of Harry. She probably would have shielded him from the
paper and tried to remove the burden of pressure from his small shoulders.

But they were older now and things were different.

Hermione unfolded the paper, slowly and deliberately as she stalled for as much time as
possible. She was delaying the revelation, trying to keep every shred of Harry’s innocence, but
Harry knew it was only a matter of time before they found out. He was a very public figure and
questions would immediately be asked. You couldn’t hold a conspiracy for that long. Hermione
plastered the Daily Prophet against the glass so Harry could read it clearly.

**HARRY POTTER MURDERS CHO CHANG!**

------------

**A/N: So what do you think? Interesting? Weird? All of this follows canon. Leave a review with
your thoughts.**



2. Men Talk of Killing Time, While Time Quietly Kills Them
----------------------------------------------------------

Vanilla.

That’s what the whorehouse smelled like.

Hermione cringed as she walked through the entrance of Nott Just Dancing. The aforementioned
smell mixed with pipes and alcohol, creating an insidious blend of sin and debauchery. Some sort of
low bass beat was thumping through the magical speakers, providing rhythm for the various naked
women to undulate and grind along the several poles situated throughout the large room.

Small love chairs and larger plush couches were spread haphazardly in the pit area of the room.
Men, and surprisingly women, sat in those chairs, feeding Galleons and Sickles to the various
strippers. Hermione watched as a woman rubbed her fairly ample bosom into a man’s face, trapping
his head in her cleavage. Another woman was gripping the pole with her arms and walking along the
ceiling, her breasts miraculously held in place by her barely-there lingerie.

Fake.

To be fair, most of the women in the club sported some sort of veiled appearance whether it be
their amplified chests or exorbitant make-up. Hermione maneuvered through the chairs to the center
stage where a pole was attached to a balcony on the back wall. She kept her wand out, wary of the
sort of customers that attended such a place in the middle of the afternoon. Reminding herself that
even Ron and Harry had been here after a night of copious drinking, Hermione kept walking, avoiding
the lewd gazes of perfidious men.

A hand snaked out to pinch her bum, causing Hermione to turn around and point her wand straight
at the man’s throat.

“Touch me again and I’ll stuff your dick into your mouth.”

The man understood the message, holding his hands up in a universal sign of surrender. The few
people who were in earshot immediately averted their eyes. If they didn’t already know she was one
of the Golden Trio, at least they knew she was not to be quarreled with.

“Hey baby, you looking for a gentler touch?”

The stripper was lying on the stage, her back arched in what Hermione surmised to be an erotic
manner. Her green eyes twinkled in the dim lighting, holding Hermione’s gaze. Hermione just shook
her head, quickly regretting her decision to see Theodore Nott. She kept walking, hoping she would
reach his office sooner rather than later.

“Oh come on love! Just one dance!” the stripper called out as Hermione strode away.

Passing by a gratuitously large man with two dancers on each of his hammy thighs, Hermione
finally reached the stairs where two burly looking men in less drab robes stood guard. One looked
at her, unconcerned as to who she might be, and shook his head. Apparently, he didn’t recognize her
amidst the dim lighting and obscene women.

“Hermione Granger,” she stated, “Nott should be expecting me.”

One guard looked at the other and nodded his head. Guard number two walked up the stairs, his
feet in line with the undistinguishable bass that seemingly played on a loop. Hermione crossed her
arms and huffed, indigent that she didn’t have immediate access to Nott’s attentions. Wishing to
stay not a minute longer in the whorehouse, Hermione sighed in relief as she saw an older Theodore
Nott descend the stairs with open arms.

He was dressed in a fishnet shirt and tight, leather pants and Hermione had to suppress an eye
roll at the stereotype. She knew she was going to see some vile characters when she turned down
Knockturn Alley to Diagon Alley’s most famous whorehouse, but she expected Nott to be better than
that.

“Why if isn’t Miss Granger? What brings your *pure* thighs to my lavish business?” Nott
grinned, his teeth flashing against the multi-colored lights that floated around the room.

“It’s about Harry Potter,” she answered through gritted teeth.

“Ahh, yes! The Boy Who Killed. It seems he’s gotten himself into a bit of a kafuffle.”

“Seems he has,” Hermione reluctantly agreed, “Can we go to your office? I’m not
really…comfortable…here.”

Nott chortled, taking apparent amusement in her squeamishness, “Of course, your honor.”

Hermione placed her foot on the bottom step but Nott impeded her by sticking an open palm in her
face.

“No, no, no. Naughty girl,” Nott smiled, but a sinister malevolence in his eyes betrayed the
genuineness of his grin, “Your wand.”

“If you think I’m going anywhere here without my wand, you’ve sorely forgotten who I am,”
Hermione replied in a clipped tone.

“If you think I’m going to let you into my office armed, you’ve sorely forgotten I’m not an
idiot,” Nott’s smile vanished, all pretense and pleasantries set aside for business.

Hermione calculated the decision in her mind, waging her choices. She had very few options and
Nott was one of the few leads she was provided. To not investigate what he knew would only
undermine Harry’s case at this point. Besides, she still had another form of protection that would
go undetected.

“Fine,” Hermione procured her wand and placed into one of the guard’s hands, “You break it, you
buy it.”

“Does the same go for you?” Nott asked with the same devious twinkle in his eyes.

Hermione glared at him as she stepped back on the stairs, ascending to Nott’s office. His office
was surprisingly bare of any of the flagitious material downstairs. Opting for a dark mahogany desk
with just three chairs and various file cabinets, Nott took a surprisingly pragmatic approach with
his office. Nott whistled at his guards and they immediately left. Waving his wand, Nott closed the
shades that gave him view of the pit floor.

Hermione suddenly felt enclosed, wondering again if this was worth it. She thought of Harry in
his cell and steeled herself for Nott’s games. Surely he wouldn’t tell her what he was supposed to
know without a bit of give and take. It’s what Hermione would have to give that worried her.

“So,” Nott spoke first, crossing his legs as he leaned back in his chair, “You must be desperate
if you’re coming to me.”

Hermione hesitated, all of her preparation thrown out the window as she felt entirely way too
suffocated inside the room, “Draco said you would know something.”

“Indeed he did,” Nott’s Cheshire grinned returned, “And I suppose you want to know what I
know?”

“I *need* to know, Nott. You know Harry is innocent,” Hermione implored.

“Are any of us really innocent?” Nott pouted.

Hermione rolled her eyes this time, frustrated at the loops and barriers she had to pass just to
gain more information on Harry’s apparent set up. Why oh why did all the Slytherins have to know
everything about the dark underbelly of the Wizarding world? Couldn’t it just be as simple as going
to Dumbledore’s portrait and asking him what to do?

No.

That would be too easy.

“What do you want, Nott?” Hermione tiredly asked, done playing with his games.

Nott pretend to ponder carefully, dramatically tapping his chin and pointing out his lips like
he was in deep thought. Deciding what he wanted to do, he turned to her and squinted his eyes as if
he were judging her. Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her chair, suddenly aware that she was in a
whorehouse.

“No, no, Granger. I’m gay.”

It was Nott’s turn to roll his eyes as he read her mind.

“But I do want to tell you a story.”

--------------------------

“Why wasn’t Ginny home?”

Hermione asked Harry as she sat down across from his cell, the glass barrier still between them.
A notebook was levitating in the air, dictating every word for future reference and Hermione had
her own notebook in her lap, jotting specialized notes.

“We had another fight. You know - about the usual,” Harry sighed as he crossed his arms and
leaned against the wall.

Hermione grimaced, knowing Harry’s difficulties with conceiving a baby. Though they weren’t yet
married and Ginny was still using the Contraception Charm, Harry had been informed by a doctor at
St. Mungo’s at a routine check-up that there was a possibility he might not be able to provide a
baby. His magical signature had been ravaged by Voldemort and his body had not yet adjusted without
it. Ginny was the youngest of seven children and it was well known among her friends for her wish
for a large family.

“Do you…do you want to talk about it?” Hermione probed, unsure if this was the right time for
that sort of question.

“No,” Harry quickly replied, “Ginny said she was going to the Burrow. It was a bigger fight than
normal.”

Hermione jotted down a note, *GW at Burrow.*

“So she was at the Burrow all night. When did you have your fight?”

Harry ran a hand through his hair, racking his brain for the exact time.

“It was in the morning before I left for work. I don’t know when she left the flat, but she said
she was going to the Burrow eventually.”

“That explains why she wasn’t looking for you,” Hermione mused, scribbling more notes. “And what
about work yesterday? Was there anything out of line?”

Harry shook his head, throwing his hands in the air in disgust, “No! Ron was working on some St.
Mungo’s case where someone broke out and Seamus was off until the night shift. Everyone else was
where they were supposed to be.”

“And do you suspect anyone within your department?”

Harry looked upwards thoughtfully, extending his arms so his palms were flat against the glass
barrier. After a moment, he shook his head again, unable to think of any internal suspects.
Hermione wrote a question mark besides *Aurors* and moved onto the next page.

“What about external suspects? There’s a whole list of people who would want to take a crack at
you, Harry.”

“Take your pick,” Harry muttered bitterly, “I suppose you should move Malfoy to the top of the
list.”

“He’s actually here now,” Hermione commented.

“Malfoy? Here?” Harry stood up a little straighter, “It’s reasonable. He has the finances and
the motivation. Merlin knows the ass never liked me.”

“But has he not liked you enough to frame you for murder?”

Harry nodded, seeing her point, “It’s a bit extreme, even for him.”

“Still, we can’t rule him out,” she said as she rubbed her eyes.

Noticing her fatigue, Harry waved for the door, “Hermione, get some rest. You’ve been at this
since the crack of dawn.”

“It’s only six thirty, Harry,” Hermione droned as she kept writing, “I’m probably not going to
sleep for the next seventy-two hours.”

Harry sighed, knowing it was futile to try to deter Hermione from her course of action. He was
grateful she remained with him, a tether to normalcy from the whirlwind of craziness that had
enveloped him. As he looked at her, he frowned as he indeed noticed the time.

“Where’s Ron? You said he left hours ago for Ginny.”

“I don’t know,” Hermione made a face as she, too, realized Ron had been gone for an excessive
amount of time.

The door suddenly whirled open and Seamus stepped in with a wary look on his face.

“What is it now, Seamus?” Hermione asked.

Sparing a sideways glance at Harry, Seamus decided he could speak in front of him, “It’s about
Ginny.”

Harry immediately pressed against the glass, his glasses digging into his skin as he focused all
of his attention on the Irishman. Seamus looked at Harry with an expression that said*, I
know*.

“Ron went to find her, but she’s missing. She never made it to the Burrow.”

Hermione shot up from her chair at the news, concern etched across her face as yet another twist
to this case was beset upon them. Harry swore and kicked the glass, the pain in his foot
momentarily distracting him from yet another potential catastrophe.

“The clock! The Weasley’s clock. What did it say?” Hermione urged an answer from Seamus.

“Ron said her arrow was set to Traveling. That’s good, right? At least it wasn’t on Mortal
Peril,” Seamus reasoned.

“Tell Ron to look with her teammates. She sometimes goes there when we’ve had fights. I don’t
know where else she would go…” Harry trailed off worriedly.

“Don’t worry,” Seamus assured him, “Ron’s still out and looking for her and I’m sure she’ll show
up, but there is something else we need to talk about. Since news broke, they’re cracking down on
me to present your case, Harry. We have to turn something up by this afternoon.”

“*This* afternoon?!” Hermione cried, “That’s not procedure at all!”

“Everyone wants a piece of him, Hermione,” Seamus talked as if Harry wasn’t in the room, “People
in the Wizengamot want him just as much as the press. They want to see something done.”

“Is there anything you can do to delay them?” Hermione pressed, knowing time was precious.

Seamus shrugged, “I’m pushing it right now letting you in here, but I believe you, Harry.” He
looked right at his old classmate and nodded at him, “I’ll do what I can to hold them off, but
Kingsley and I can only keep them on their leashes for so long, the bastards. What are you going to
do?”

Hermione and Harry made eye contact and he nodded subtly, giving her permission to carry out her
own investigation outside the Auror rules.

Turning to Seamus, Hermione said, “I’m going to have to talk to a couple people and get some
answers. Do you think there’s anything worth seeing at the hotel where you found Cho and
Harry?”

“No murder weapon,” Seamus muttered, “We checked Harry’s wand and the last spell we found was
just a maintenance spell he probably used here. He must’ve done it with a knife.”

“*If* he did it, Seamus,” Hermione immediately corrected him with a strict look.

“Yes, if he did it,” Seamus visibly winced.

Harry beamed a bit at Hermione’s correction, internally applauding her defense. Right now, there
was no one else he would rather have investigating this matter. While he didn’t know what happened,
he was confident in Hermione’s abilities and only wished he could help her instead of rotting
uselessly in the cell.

“I’ll need to take a look at Cho’s body, but right now, I have to talk to someone else,”
Hermione commented.

“Who?” Seamus asked.

Making a disgusted face, Hermione said, “Malfoy.”

------------------

“What story?” Hermione wondered, playing along with Nott’s game.

“A *love* story, Hermione,” Nott grinned as he leaned forward with a conspiratorial
whisper, “They’re always the most interesting stories, aren’t they?”

Hermione crossed her arms. “I’m tired of these games, Nott. What do you want to tell me?”

Nott frowned in apparent unhappiness, “I thought you wanted to hear my story, Hermione? Or do
you not want to know what I know…”

Knowing she was at an inherent disadvantage without her wand, Hermione quickly assumed that she
would have to play or listen to Nott’s games. If what Draco told her was true, Nott was the key to
proving Harry’s innocence or at least pointing a finger to whoever was responsible for setting him
up.

“Fine, go on.”

The grin crossing Nott’s face sent a shiver down Hermione’s spine and she had to remind herself
that Nott wouldn’t hurt her unless he had an endgame and there was no reason for him to be this
involved. Though he was always known as a crafty Slytherin, Nott was never known as the type to do
the dirty work.

“Let’s start at the beginning, shall we? There were two boys and a girl. There always has to be
a triangle. It wouldn’t be interesting if there were just two people involved,” Nott explained.

Hermione rolled her eyes, playing to his charade but not letting herself delve into Nott’s
storytelling too much.

“Of course, both boys were in love with the girl and it was a question as to who she would pick.
Would she pick Lancelot, the brave and noble knight who would do anything for her? Or would she
pick Arthur, the king who lorded over all the lands?”

“I already know the story of Guinevere,” Hermione tiredly interrupted with a petulant sigh.

“This is not *their* story, Hermione,” Nott gently reprimanded her.

“Anyways, the decision was not easy for her as they both had great merits. Meeting each other as
children, they went through tireless trials and tribulations. They fought monsters, overcame
heartbreak, vanquished evil. Their popularity was never ending as was the speculation of their love
lives. It was generally thought that she would pick Arthur or Lancelot, but everyone had differing
opinions on who she *should* choose.”

Hermione shifted in her seat, knowing that this definitely was not the story of Guinevere. But
if Nott was trying to relay something, who were Arthur and Lancelot supposed to be?

“Eventually she chose Lancelot, feeling he made her the happiest. Lancelot was pleased as were
the rest of the knights and all the land. Even Arthur looked to be happy for them, publicly
supporting their relationship and taking a woman for his own.”

Was Guinevere supposed to be Ginny? It would make sense since Ginny is sometimes short for
Guinevere, but Arthur and Lancelot were *both* supposed to love her. Ron was her brother.


“You’re telling the story backwards. Guinevere married King Arthur, not -”

“This. Is. Not. Their. Story,” Nott enunciated each word through clenched teeth, an icy glare
dressing Hermione down on the spot, “Do not interrupt me again.”

Hermione meekly muttered an okay, shameful that she felt bad for interrupting him.

“The story goes on that she and Lancelot were very happy together and their lives progressed
without incident. Yet, Lancelot had a very unique character flaw. He was a *very* jealous man.
He always had been and being with her did not change that about him. It was always his greatest
fear that Arthur would swoop in and take her away from him as he was the king and everyone
worshipped him. But Arthur and Lancelot were best friends and there is no worse betrayal than
laying with what is not yours. Still, she chided him for thinking such things.”

“But her caution did not stay his thoughts.”

There was a growing dead within Hermione as hints of the story began to seem familiar to her.
The identities were already known in the back of her mind, but she was refusing to acknowledge it,
hoping Nott’s story would veer somewhere else.

“The…trio…were the best of friends and she and Arthur had always been particularly close. Arthur
claimed it was just a familial relationship and Lancelot really had nothing to disprove that. Given
that Arthur was currently courting Lancelot’s sister, Lancelot would be foolish to think anything
else.”

Now this story definitely seemed *too* familiar.

The look of realization must have crossed Hermione’s face because Nott suddenly grinned as she
caught on. He leaned back, reveling in the revelation as he continued to speak words that caused
Hermione great uneasiness.

“Yet, he continued to think there was something wrong, suspecting their little communiqué’s and
lunch dates were more than what they said it was. Of course, this was supposed to be nothing more
than friends catching up with each other, but the monster within Lancelot kept growling, begging to
be fed. She denied his accusations, reminding him that he was the one that left them in their time
of need.”

Hermione could barely breathe, her mind zipping along at impossible speeds as she tried to
accumulate all the data and process the information to deduce what Nott was trying to tell her. Why
was he telling her this story? How did he know so much?

“It started off with small things at first. He would notice their hugs linger for a moment too
long. He would notice she spent long nights at work while he was there. By itself, these situations
were harmless, but they started to build. That’s the problem with an idea. Once it exists, it can’t
go away. The mountain of what he seemed to think was evidence kept rolling in little by
little.”

“One day, Lancelot stayed just a bit late after work. Missing her, he strode to her office,
hoping to surprise with her a late night visit. No doubt she would also be working the midnight
oil, trying to right the world’s wrongs. As he approached her door, he noticed a dim light and
smiled as he realized she was still in. He lifted his hand to push open the door but heard a
strange noise. He thought he heard *moaning*, but that wasn’t right!”

Nott feigned shock, clapping his hands against his cheeks as Hermione gritted her teeth. None of
this was true! Nott was making up this part of the story.

“He pushed slightly against the door and his heart broke at the sight. There stood his beloved
and Arthur, caught in the throes of passionate love,” Nott mocked Hermione with a fake pout, “So
enraptured by each other they were, neither of them noticed Lancelot standing in the doorway in
shock. To her and Arthur, the world only existed for them and they could care less about
Lancelot.”

“Stop it,” Hermione stood up from her chair, discarding Nott’s warning not to interrupt, “This
isn’t true.”

“And so Lancelot turned,” Nott continued, unperturbed by her, “He plotted a devious plan to
frame Arthur for the murder of another. He would go by undetected, of course. No one would dare
suspect Arthur’s best friend!”

“I said stop it!” Hermione cried.

“So Lancelot murdered a woman and framed it on Arthur, successfully wiping out Arthur’s memory
to convince him of his own guilt. Arthur had made many enemies during the creation of his kingdom
and all of them wanted to see him fall.”

“*STOP IT! THIS ISN’T REAL!*” Hermione belted at the top of her lungs, thinking of at least
twenty-three hexes she could use on Nott if she had her wand.

“What is *real*?” Nott smugly asked.

------------------------------

Leaving Harry with Seamus and promising the green-eyed man she would be back as soon as she had
just a modicum of information, Hermione left the Auror office in search for Malfoy. She knew he
worked within the Wizengamot and while he wasn’t part of the governing body, he definitely held
some sway. Stopping by the room where they held Cho’s body, Hermione could find no other magical
signatures. It look like Cho had been killed without magic. Stumped, she continued her journey to
Malfoy.

Before she could travel to his office, she was stopped by two masses of fiery, red hair.

“Hermione!” Ginny’s eyes were red as she flew into Hermione’s arms for a comforting embrace.
Hermione caught the younger girl in her arms, shushing her and stroking her back. Looking over the
youngest Weasley’s shoulder, Hermione spotted a haggard looking Ron.

“Where is he? Have you seen him yet?” Ginny asked as soon as she pulled away.

“I don’t think so. It‘s not proce -” Ron started.

“No,” Hermione interrupted, “Seamus let me see him. He’s holding off the rest of the Grims for
now, but we don’t have long until they try to bury Harry for this crime. Go to the Auror office
now, Ginny.”

Ginny nodded and thanked Hermione for her help. The brunette indicated she wanted to speak to
Ron for a moment and that she would join them later. As soon as the young redhead was out of
earshot, Hermione started speaking.

“Not a lot of leads so far. I scanned the letter and Cho’s body. Found nothing conspicuous on
either of them. Didn’t think I’d find anything so far.”

“You saw Harry already?” Ron asked again, an indiscernible look in his eyes.

“Yes,” Hermione snapped impatiently, wishing he would pay attention, “Did you hear anything I
just said?”

“Yes, I heard it,” Ron said in a distracted voice.

Shaking her head and blaming his inattentiveness on fatigue, Hermione said, “I’m going to find
Malfoy.”

“Malfoy?” Ron perked up, “Do you think he has something to do with this?”

“I don’t know,” Hermione admitted, “But Cho did work with him in the Wizengamot pit. Seeing as
how he’s one of the few people that’s here right now and considering he might be a suspect, I
figured I should talk to him.”

Ron nodded, agreeing with her, “I’ll go with you.”

“Don’t,” Hermione sighed and placed a hand on his chest, “You two still don’t like each other
and I’ll get more information if you two aren’t there trying to glare each other to death.”

“I would win that.”

Hermione cracked a rare smile and looked up at Ron’s face. There were bags under his eyes and
the crease between his brows was held in place from concern, but he still had a sly smile that
lifted her spirits by just a fraction.

“Go to Harry,” Hermione ordered, “I’ll be back soon.”

“Got it.”

Hermione found Malfoy’s office after questioning the Wizengamot pit secretary. Knowing there was
a good chance he was in there, she opened the door without knocking, hoping to catch him off-guard.
Malfoy was sitting behind his desk, looking over some papers and looked up in alarm when she
entered the room. As he noticed her, however, he relaxed.

“Figured you’d come calling soon enough, Granger,” Malfoy predictably drawled.

Willing herself to stay patient, Hermione decided to skip pleasantries and ask him directly,
“Why is Cho dead?”

Leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms over his head, he answered, “Why don’t you ask
Potter? Saw in the Prophet he was the one that killed her.”

“You know he wouldn’t do that.”

“Wouldn’t he? Maybe Scarhead finally lost it. Voldemort had a way of doing that to people,”
Malfoy idly remarked.

Hermione dismissed the idea completely. Voldemort was long gone out of Harry’s mind and while
there were some lasting effects, Harry’s impotency for one, Hermione was convinced that Harry
wasn’t deranged enough to kill someone so violently.

“You worked with Cho. You must have some idea of her schedule and what she was working on.”

“Why would I want to help Potter?”

“He saved your ass if you remember,” Hermione forcefully reminded him.

“That was a long time ago.”

“Debt’s a debt, Malfoy.”

Malfoy paused, considering his options. He still looked similar to the bully at Hogwarts but age
and a little bit of wisdom matured him. His hair was cropped shorter but still a white-blonde. He
worked hard in the Wizengamot, often running around errands that he would have previously deemed
below him. It was tough when he found out his family was not as respected and his money couldn’t
easily buy everyone.

But some wounds were still slow to heal.

“What do you want to know about Chang?” Malfoy finally asked.

“Enemies. Who would want to do this to her?”

“For such a smart girl, you’re overlooking the obvious thing,” Malfoy said with a raised
eyebrow, “Chang’s obviously just a fall girl. They’re targeting Potter.”

“I know that,” Hermione snapped, “There’s still a reason they picked Cho. Her history with
Harry. Her connections. Her availability. Can you help me out with that?”

Malfoy looked at the single item in the room that distinguished it from all the other offices in
the Ministry. It was a lone silver picture frame of his parents. Heaving his chest as if he had a
weight on his shoulders, Malfoy continued to provide information.

“Chang mostly kept to herself. She was our liaison to the Magical Games and Sports department
given her specializations in Hogwarts. She worked a regular schedule and I only bumped into her
when I needed to get some paperwork. Word around the pit is that she got involved with one of the
older members of the Wizengamot.”

“Involved?” Hermione hoped Malfoy wasn’t implying what she thought he was.

“Don’t be naïve, Granger. You know what I’m talking about. Rumor is that she was seeing Roger
MacFarlan.”

“MacFarlan?” Hermione searched her brain, recalling the well-built, former Quidditch player
representing Games and Sports in the Wizengamot, “But he’s not known as a Dark Wizard.”

“No, he’s not technically known, but if you’re in the pit long enough, you know he frequents
Nott Just Dancing. People say he’s brought Cho there a couple of times. If you want to find some
Dark Wizards, they’re still out there.”

“Nott?” Hermione wrinkled her nose. He owned a sleazy establishment in Knockturn Alle, “How many
times did she go there with Macfarlan?”

“A lot,” Malfoy finished as he brought out a quill to write on the first of several parchments
on his desk, “Now if you don’t mind, Granger. That’s all I know. I’m not getting dragged into this
nonsense again.”

Hermione nodded, knowing he didn’t have to tell her where Cho frequented. She supposed it was
his way of repaying the debt he still owed to Harry, but to Hermione, that wasn’t nearly enough. As
she turned to leave his office, Malfoy called out for her one more time. Turning around, she looked
into his steely eyes and saw a strange emotion for Malfoy.

Apprehension.

“Nott’s a lot different than he was at Hogwarts. You might want to bring someone.”

Was that…concern in Malfoy’s voice? Hermione blinked, but the blonde had already burrowed his
head into his paperwork, ignoring her presence. Shutting the door behind her, Hermione was confused
with a rare piece of charity from Malfoy. If Cho frequented Nott’s whorehouse, then Hermione would
have to follow the trail.

-----------------------------

“Why are you telling me all of this?! Why are you lying?!” Hermione barked her questions, trying
in vain not to lose her temper.

“One would think it means something to you with the way you’re reacting,” Nott toyed with her,
still seated and leaning back comfortably in his chair.

“It doesn’t mean anything because you made that last part up. I know what you’re trying to do
and I hope to Merlin you don’t have anything to do with what happened to Harry.”

“Me?” Nott’s voice raised an octave as he coquettishly pointed at himself, “I wouldn’t do
anything so magical and suicidal. Not my style. Too dirty,” Nott pretend to wash his hands of
filth.

“Then what? What’s the point of this?”

“The point is,” Nott sighed as if he were talking to a toddler, “that if you can wipe someone’s
memory clean, isn’t it conceivable you can *plant* a memory as well?”

Hermione froze, realizing what Nott was trying to imply. Nott nodded, for once soberly serious
as her brain finally figured it out.

“It’s so brilliant. They should make one of those Muggle movies about the idea! What you think
didn’t ever happen might be someone else’s reality. In this case, Lancelot’s reality.”

“But Ron wouldn’t…” Hermione trailed off.

“Are you sure about that?” Nott said more gently, “People are pushed to great lengths when their
greatest fears are confirmed.”

The room was spinning around her and she was finding it difficult to breathe. Even her adept
brainpower couldn’t handle the swarm of emotional and factual overload. Would Ron do something so
sinister as set Harry up? Her heart screamed, *No! Never!* Yet, the rational part of her brain
told her that if Ron believed she was cheating on him with Harry, his temper had a way of clouding
his judgment.

But killing Cho and framing Harry was something so pre-meditated that he would have to
*truly* believe she had forsaken him for Harry. It just wasn’t like Ron to pull off something
so incredibly malicious no matter how angry he was.

“In order to make something clear, I don’t actually know *who* is framing Potter,” Nott
pointed out, “I was just given orders.”

“Orders?” Hermione snapped to attention, “Who? Who gave you orders?”

Nott shrugged indifferently, “I don’t know. We all get orders and this one paid handsomely. I
was just meant to keep you distracted with this little story.”

“Distracted? Why would you need to distract me?” Hermione frowned, her feet suddenly turning
towards the door.

“It’s a game, Granger,” the same playful but sinister glint was back in Nott’s eyes, “Which one
set up Potter? Was it Weasley? Was it Weaslette? Was it someone else that stands to gain from
Potter’s fall? *That’s* the game.”

“But who…” Hermione said to herself, now pacing in front of Nott.

“Well you need to find out soon.”

“Why?” Hermione questioned for the umpteenth time, tired of asking questions and receiving only
riddles for answers.

“The hounds are thirsty, Granger. Once Potter’s case hits the Wizengamot floor, no one will be
able to stop the swift turn of events. People like a hero, but what people like even more is a
villain. And here you have your first villain since the Dark Lord. They will not be kind to the Boy
Who Killed.”

Hermione stopped and in her mind, it was as if a movie she had never seen before played it out
in her head. Once they brought Harry’s case to the Wizengamot, he would be tried and the decision
would be handed out by the governing body. He had many enemies who would vote for his incarceration
even if he was the savior of the Wizarding world.

People only cared about what you were doing for them now.

He would be sent to Azkaban and Kingsley would immediately be supplanted since he was a close
friend of Harry’s. Whoever replaced him would probably be propped up by the same person that
planted a memory in Ron’s mind that made him believe she cheated on him with Harry.

But who? Who would do this?

Hermione couldn’t wait another minute, bursting out of Nott’s office and grabbing her wand from
one of his guards. As she raced out of the building in order to Apparate to the Ministry, she heard
Nott mocking her one last time.

“Choose wisely, Granger!”

----------------------

**A/N: Thoughts? Concerns? Guesses? Reviews…**



3. The Man Behind The Curtain
-----------------------------

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.”

-----------------------------

**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!**