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Unstoppable	By : Thunderbird Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 14474 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any affiliated characters. I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 14
- 15
- 16
A/N: Thank you for the reviews! Let's just get right to it.
Oh, and for my American readers, a very happy Thanksgiving to you and yours :)
Warnings: Implied M/F lemons.
Chapter 15: Don’t Bring Me Down
(Hermione)

“I don’t understand,” Hermione said, looking from one Mind Healer to the other. She saw Healer Bulstrode shift slightly in her chair. “Why has the Legilimency stopped working, exactly?”
Healer Goddard sighed. “The reasons are quite complicated Ms. Granger. Suffice it to say that we have to put that particular treatment on hold for the time being.”
“I’m a smart witch,” Hermione said drily. “I’m confident I can keep up with any explanation you provide, no matter how technical.”
She saw Goddard and Bulstrode exchange a look. Perhaps, Hermione realized, she had sounded a bit arrogant in saying that. But it didn’t matter, because it was also true. Not to mention that “suffice it to say” was hardly a sufficient answer at all. She needed to understand.
“I was not for a moment questioning your intelligence Ms. Granger,” Goddard said. “It’s simply a matter of… this case is unprecedented, you see.”
And suddenly Hermione understood. It wasn’t that Goddard doubted her ability to follow the explanation. It was that he had no idea how to explain it.
“I understand,” she said. “I don’t expect… I’m not looking to point fingers. I hope you know that.” How could she, when at least one finger would most surely end up being pointed back at herself? She had caused this in the first place. “I know that this is a complicated situation. But even if you don’t know everything that’s happening, I would still like to hear what you do know. Even a partial explanation is better than no explanation at all.”
Goddard nodded, seeming to relax a little. “Yes, of course,” he said. He thought a moment, looking at his clasped hands. “The truth is, I’ve had to stop the Legilimency on your mother simply because I’ve run out of… pieces. To put back in their proper place.” He watched Hermione’s reaction, which was, at that point, mere confusion, before continuing. “What I mean is, there are pieces missing. Or, better yet, there are pieces that appear to be missing.”
“I’m sorry, but what’s the difference?” Hermione asked while all the while a roiling panic was beginning to rise inside her.
“The difference is that I doubt the pieces are truly missing from her mind entirely. They just aren’t readily accessible on the surface. My theory is that they’ve gotten… buried somehow, hidden under other layers, making them very, very difficult to get to.”
Hermione absorbed that. “But it’s just a theory.”
“Based on what I know to be true of the mind and how it works, yes,” said Goddard. “You see, it is a misconception that Obliviation removes memories. It is actually impossible, at this point in our current magical practice, to remove something from the mind. We can make copies, for pensieve memories, and we can warp memories or bury them with Obliviation. There’s a reason it’s called ‘memory modification’ rather than ‘memory removal.’ Because the memories can be retrieved or put right again, with some skill.”
“So, you’re saying that because it is impossible for magic to remove a part of the mind, the missing pieces in my mother’s mind can’t have been removed, only hidden?” Hermione summarized.
“Precisely.”
“But you don’t know where the pieces are, or how to get to them.”
“Correct.”
Hermione sighed. “And this is obviously not a common issue.”
“I’ve never seen such a thing before in my life.”
“And therefore you don’t believe it can be resolved through Legilimency any longer.”
Goddard sighed. “The prospect of trying makes me extremely nervous. I have made progress, as you have readily seen. To seek out the missing pieces I would have to… dig, for lack of a better word, around in the healed and healthy parts of her mind, which might serve to only damage it further. My concern is that if I attempted it at this point, it would only make things worse.”
“But, then, what do we do?’
Goddard turned to look at Bulstrode, who nodded, then turned to Hermione. “There are other treatment options,” she said. “Ones that are less invasive than Legilimency. There are charms that are designed to stimulate the mind into healing itself-“
“Yes, but you said, when we went over the options in August, that those were most useful in less serious cases.”
“Yes,” Bulstrode said mildly, gracefully brushing off the fact that she’d been interrupted. “But in conjunction with other treatments, they may be helpful. There are also spells that can reorient the structure of the mind, separate the layers, change their position, bring to the surface that which was buried before. They are spells we use in a lot of Obliviation cases, to help patients recover memories. I think they could be very effective here. In combination with the healing spells, your mother’s mind could begin to uncover and reposition the missing pieces herself. Or Goddard could use Legilimency, once the pieces have been uncovered, to put them in the right place again.”
Hermione thought that over. It sounded far-fetched to her, a guessing game rather than a real plan of action. But then, when the case was unprecedented, all action was a kind of guessing game, wasn’t it? “So, you’re saying my mother’s mind is like…” She searched around for a good metaphor, “…a cake, or something? A layer cake that has to be turned upside down, or sideways?”
Goddard considered that. “It might be more effective to think of her mind like a deck of cards that needs to be reshuffled,” he said.
Hermione scratched her temple lightly, thinking that over. “All right, I suppose we’ll try it,” she said.
“I’ll continue the Legilimency with your father,” Goddard reassured her. “That seems to still be working well. We may run into the same problem down the line, but as his case was more severe, there is still much to do in this current phase of treatment.”
“So you think my mother and father’s cases are the same, it’s just that my father’s is more extreme?”
“Yes, I think that’s fair to say. Their symptoms were caused by the same magical blast, so it stands to reason that the effects would be similar as well.”
“So you think the type of magic it was did have something to do with it.” Hermione had been wondering about this since her parents had been hospitalized, wondering how a single burst of magic could have done all this, even with her parents’ minds being as fragile as they were.
“I think it must have,” said Goddard.
“Do you think understanding the nature of the magic would help us know what kind of treatment would work best?”
She caught an almost inaudible sigh from Bulstrode and turned to look at her. “It would be best if we didn’t venture down that path again, Hermione,” she said, and the Gryffindor immediately registered the (likely deliberate) use of her first name.
“But if it would help… wouldn’t it be best to at least know what sort of magic it was? I’m not trying to track down or blame the person who did this. I just want to know that nature of the magic, so we know what kind of damage it inflicted.”
“We cannot learn the nature of the magic itself without consulting the person who performed that magic. And we don’t have access to that information.”
“If we could just talk to the Aurors who-“
“I know you feel strongly about this,” Bulstrode interrupted. “And I understand why. But there are rules in place for a reason. Aurors and Healers are bound in many of the same ways, and for us to have a strong cooperative relationship, which is often required between the two groups, we must both respect the others requirements and protocols. We have no justifiable reason to invade the privacy of the wizard who performed the magic, not when we have no way of knowing if understanding more about the magic or the person who performed it would help us more effectively heal your parents. Therefore it would be pointless to ask.”
Hermione remained silent in her chair. Personally, she felt even the possibility of helping her parents in a way the Healers hadn’t yet thought of was justification enough for asking the Aurors, but she knew what response she would get if she shared that opinion aloud. She would get nowhere on this particular issue, not with the people who sat before her at this moment, at least.
“All right,” she said finally. “We’ll do these spells, these charms, to… reshuffle my mother’s mind, then, if you think that would be best.”
“Yes,” said Goddard. “We are both in agreement that it would be.”
“I’ll get the consent paperwork drawn up for you to sign, and we can begin right away,” Bulstrode added, looking relieved that Hermione appeared to be letting this go.
Which only proved, of course, that Millicent Bulstrode did not yet know Hermione Granger very well at all.
***
Hermione returned to work with her mind very much on her parents’ case. She made herself focus for her meeting with a client and for the few brief conversations she had with colleagues throughout the afternoon, but otherwise she sat at her desk, thinking things through.
There was just so much guesswork involved in these treatment methods, and Hermione had a great distaste for guesswork. She had always believed that with enough information, a person should never have to guess at anything. With enough information, clear answers could be worked out. Gather all the information it was possible to gather on something, then use your brain to determine the solution, that was the best method for solving a problem. It had never failed her in the past.
So why would she give up the method now, in a time of such great need?
I need to find a way to talk to the wizard myself. It would not be difficult, once she knew the name. She could put some glamours on herself, so as not to be recognized, then make up some pretense about why she needed to interview the man about the incident. She could say she was just following up on the initial report. She could say it was for research purposes. If the man truly was innocent, he should have no qualms about talking to her.
But how to get the name?
Ron. He would have access to the report. Not that he would be allowed to let her see it, even if he knew why she needed to.
But he might be able to help her get to it without meaning to, without knowing what he was doing. If she could find a way to…
She rested her elbows on her desk and buried her face in her hands. Was she really talking about this, using Ron to get to a file she wasn’t supposed to see?
To help your parents, said another voice. And if you do it right, then he never even has to know.
***
Hermione toyed with the idea all afternoon, all evening after she returned home, and all the next morning. When it came to her lunch break at work that day, she had made a decision. She would go to the Ministry and pop in on Ron, just to have a little look around his office. Just to get the lay of the land, as it were.
She wasn’t going to steal anything. She just wanted to see.
Just a little peek. Just one name.
Ron was not in his office when she arrived. Other Aurors were around, just starting their lunch breaks, and Hermione waved hello to the ones she knew and smiled sweetly and pretended this was just an ordinary visit. Then she went inside the office as if it was perfectly normal for her to do so.
In truth, she had been expecting to find it locked and warded, but it wasn’t. Looking around, she could see why there wasn’t much point. There was hardly anything there, at least not anything out in the open, not anything that wasn’t already clearly under magical lock and key in one of the cabinets.
She closed the door behind her and looked closer at the cabinets. The filing system had changed in the last year, Ron had told her. It used to be that reports were kept only within their relative departments, and Aurors from other departments had to request copies if they wanted to see them. This had been shown to be a hindrance, however, especially since the more complex cases tended to overlap with multiple departments or required extensive research on past cases. So the Corps had streamlined things, installing magical cabinets called InfiniVaults in the offices of all the senior Aurors. With the right password, as Hermione understood it, an Auror could open an InfiniVault and immediately have access to any report or file from any department, simply by asking for it. It was brilliant, and quite convenient, and exactly what was going to help Hermione get access to the report she needed.
If I can figure out how to open it, that is, she thought, staring down at the nondescript black cabinet in front of her. She knew this was the one, because it looked different from all the others, and it had a small silver infinity symbol embedded in the front of it. She tugged on the handle, just for good measure, not that she expected it to open so easily. But she thought maybe she’d find some clue as to where to begin.
Did one just say the password to it? Most magical things, when they wanted a password, had some way to ask for it. But the cabinet just stood there innocently, entirely unaware of her.
She bent down, feeling a bit foolish, and whispered, “Chudley Cannons.”
Nothing happened. The cabinet didn’t so much as shiver. But then, she’d also chosen probably the most obvious Ron Weasley password she could think of, and it was likely that he’d choose something a bit more obscure and difficult to guess. She thought a moment.
“Pigwidgeon,” she said. Old pets were a common choice. “Crookshanks. Scabbers?” But no, he wouldn’t have picked the latter, not after the whole Peter Pettigrew thing. Not on his life.
She moved on to other categories, including Ron’s favorite foods, favorite Muggle authors, and eventually people. She tried Harry, Ron’s parents, every single one of his siblings, and every iteration of her own name that she could think of.
Nothing. Bloody nothing.
“I don’t fucking know,” she said under her breath. She knew her future husband inside and out, of that she had no doubt, but guessing something like a password was still damned difficult, and Ron had obviously put some thought into this one.
“Bloody hell,” she said. “Holy Hippogriffs. Merlin’s sweaty bollocks.” She stared at the cabinet hopefully.
Nope.
She was contemplating what else she should try when the door opened and her fiancé walked in. She turned to see that he had paused in the doorway and was staring at her.
“Hello, love,” he said after a moment. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I thought I’d come surprise you for lunch,” she said.
He smiled, walking up to her to give her a kiss. “That’s very nice.”
“I brought you a soup and a sandwich.”
His grin broadened. “Even better. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Hermione shrugged. “Well, you accuse me of taking too many working lunches, so I thought it might be good to get out of the office for once.”
“A wise decision,” he agreed. He looked down and noticed what she was standing right next to. “Trying to break into my cabinet, are we? Trying to drown yourself in badly done paperwork?”
Hermione forced herself to laugh, hoping it sounded natural. “I was just contemplating the cabinet,” she said. “It’s that InfiniVault you were telling me about, isn’t it?”
“That’s the one,” said Ron.
“How does it work?”
“Well, I’m the only one who can open this one,” said Ron. He gripped the handle and pulled, and the latch released, the drawer opening. “It knows my hand, like a signature. I’m told it’s based somewhat on Muggle fingerprint technology. It was a Muggleborn who invented this you know. Dennis Creevey.”
“Really? I hadn’t realized that.”
“Yep. Bloody brilliant. He’s raking in the gold now, thanks to this. Most offices are buying them. The DTF will have them soon enough, I’m sure.”
“So you just have to be the one to open it?” Hermione pressed. “It knows your fingerprints and that’s enough?”
“No, not on its own. You have to enter a password with your wand here.” He pointed to the open drawer, where there was a shimmering, translucent shield on the surface, keeping them both from seeing what was inside. On one side of the shield sat a row of little blank spaces, and Ron lifted his wand and started tapping them until they formed a numerical code. Hermione watched closely, hoping to memorize it before it faded away.
19910901.
“All ones and nines and zeros,” she remarked. “How do you remember it?”
“It’s a date,” he said. “The year nineteen ninety-one. September the first.”
Hermione considered that day and its significance, and it didn’t take her long to figure it out. “The day you started at Hogwarts.”
“And the day I met you and Harry,” said Ron. “The day everything changed.” His smile was soft and warm.
“A very good day,” Hermione said quietly. It was a good password, easy to remember. And yet one most people would not think to guess. She shook herself. “Well, so that’s the security. But how does the cabinet itself work?”
Ron didn’t even bat an eye as he began to explain. Hermione supposed that she had so much natural curiosity about everything that a curiosity about this would hardly be suspicious. Ron showed her how you could request a file by case number, or search through a set of files by using specific parameters, like department codes, dates, the name of the Auror who filed it, and even key words. Hermione listened attentively, filing it all away for future reference.
“Apparently Dennis got the idea for it from another Muggle technology,” Ron was saying now. “Something called the interweave… interweb…?”
“Internet?”
“Yes, that’s it! The internet. It’s an amazing thing. He was explaining some of it to us when he came to give us a tutorial. Apparently Muggles have these boxes called computers, where they store important things, and do other stuff that I don’t really understand…” He trailed off as he looked at Hermione, accurately reading the patiently loving expression on her face. “Of course, you must know all of this already. No doubt your parents use the internet all the time, I suppose.”
“Some,” she said. “Although it’s younger Muggles who use it the most.”
“Sure,” said Ron. “Anyway.” He closed the cabinet. “That’s the InfiniVault. Convenient as all get out. I don’t know how we managed before.”
“Yes, it’s quite ingenious,” Hermione agreed, still staring at it. She couldn’t help but think of how wonderfully convenient it would have been for Ron to suddenly be called away with the cabinet still open, even for just a minute or two. But of course, that hadn’t happened.
At least now she knew how to get in.
“But enough about that,” Ron said, leaning down to give her a kiss. “How about some lunch then?”
Their lips met, and Hermione hummed into the kiss, suddenly feeling quite grateful to Ron. And guilty as well, but she tamped that down deep inside her by pulling him closer and exploring him with her tongue. He followed suit, making a sound somewhere between a moan and a laugh.
“You are a frisky one, aren’t you?” he said.
“Why, whatever do you mean?’ Hermione asked in mock innocence even as she ground her pelvis against Ron’s, feeling him hardening under his trousers.
“You know exactly what I mean,” he half growled, his lips descending to her neck.
She grinned, backing up against the edge of his desk. He picked her up effortlessly and placed her bum on the flat surface, and her legs automatically went around his waist. She clutched him hard as he continued to work on her neck, ascending to nibble her earlobe and then kiss and nip along her jaw. She was gasping for breath by the time he reached her mouth, and their tongues danced with abandon for a few seconds. Wanting him closer, she grabbed his arse and pulled him to her, rubbing herself on his erection.
“Gods, Hermione,” Ron said reverently in her ear, and she reveled in the sound.
But to her surprise he pulled away only a moment later, looking down at her with a smirk.
“I can’t fuck you on this desk,” he said, his voice tight. “Not in the middle of the day like this. As much as I might want to.”
“Why not?” she asked breathlessly, staring up at him.
He chuckled at that. “Because Robards could break through any of the wards I’m allowed to put on this office, and if we’re caught, I’m sacked.”
Hermione huffed, but her reasonable side (the one that wasn’t ragingly turned on and begging to be taken) knew that he was right. Still, she was enjoying herself, and it might be fun to play with him a little.
“I’m sorry,” she said, pretending to look contrite. “It’s just… when I’m around you I just can’t help myself.” She bit her lip. “Auror Weasley,” she said, her voice sultry. She gripped one of his biceps, feeling the solid muscle flexing under her palm. “You’re just so strong and powerful. I can’t resist you. You could do whatever you wanted to me, and I would beg you for more.”
He stared down at her, his eyes pure heat but his mouth still lopsided in an amused smirk. “You’re wandering into dangerous territory, Ms. Granger.”
She wrapped her legs more tightly around him. “Good thing I’ve got a big, strong Auror to protect me.”
He burst out laughing and kissed her. “You’re ridiculous, you know that? The idea of you needing my protection? You’re the most powerful witch I know. Hardly a damsel in distress.”
She tilted her head, smiling up at him. “Maybe,” she said. “But doesn’t it turn you on to hear me say it anyway?”
“You know it does,” he said wryly. “Which is exactly why we can’t play this game now.” He kissed her on the forehead and created some distance, not removing himself from her embrace completely, but enough that they weren’t grinding against each other anymore.
“So much self control,” Hermione teased, fanning herself. “Makes me hot.” She licked her lips and closed her eyes with a soft moan.
“You really are trying to kill me, aren’t you?” said Ron.
“No, love, just seduce you,” she said with a grin.
“I see. Well, if you can manage to save it until tonight, then we can really take our time, can’t we?”
“You have a point,” she conceded, hopping off the desk. She only had about twenty minutes before she had to be back at work anyway. “How about that lunch, then? I’m sure you’re already very hungry.” She rubbed his muscled stomach through his jumper.
“Always,” he said, which made Hermione laugh, as she knew that to be true.
They settled in with their food and chatted, mainly about work, but also about their friends, family, and a bit about the wedding as well.
They were interrupted a few times by other Aurors coming by, not for long, but to ask quick questions or to see if Ron would take a look at a case they were working on and give his thoughts. Ron would nod and agree without much fanfare, taking any case file he was given and adding it to a stack on his desk. The Auror was always grateful and had a few friendly words with Hermione before they left, and it made Hermione realize how important Ron was here, in the Corps. She knew he was a great Auror; everyone said so. But she didn’t realize how much they apparently depended on him.
“Does that happen a lot?” she finally asked him, after the third impromptu visit from a colleague.
Ron shrugged. “This time of year? Yeah. It’s turnover season. The trainees are about to graduate and then the spots will be filled, but this is the time we’re a bit shorthanded.”
“So they come to you.”
Ron shrugged again. “Sometimes.” He took a bite of his sandwich, chewed and swallowed. “I have desk duty. I’ve actually got time to help out.”
“Yes, during your lunch break. Otherwise you’re busy with the trainees.”
“Sure…” Ron said. “What are you getting at, exactly?”
“That you obviously have a lot of working lunches too, that’s all.”
Ron laughed. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. It just doesn’t really feel much like work, so I don’t think about it that way. The cases are usually pretty interesting.”
Hermione watched him for a moment, a soft smile on her face. People were always going on about how different she and Ron were and wondering how they made it work. But for some reason they couldn’t manage to see all the ways they were alike as well.
That’s all right, Hermione thought. I see plenty of it myself.
She finished her lunch and returned to work, glad that she had taken some time to spend with Ron. However, as she returned to her office and sat down behind her desk, she was starting to remember why she had been there in the first place and contemplating what she was going to do about getting that file.
She would have to polyjuice into Ron. That much was obvious. If the cabinet recognized his fingerprints only, there was no other option except to become him, at least temporarily. The password was also not an issue, as Ron had so willingly showed it to her. Her stomach churned in guilt at that, at his unquestioned trust of her, his assumption that she would never take advantage of it.
It’s for your parents, that little voice inside reminded her. And he’ll never have to know.
That, really, was the rub, when it came down to it: to pull it off without Ron or anyone else knowing, the timing had to be right. It was clear, based on what she had seen today, that it would be difficult to find enough time to get into his office disguised as him, open the cabinet, find what she was looking for, and get out without anyone coming by. And that was important, because even if she looked like Ron she didn’t want to have any interactions with any other Aurors that Ron might have to remember later. What if they handed her a case file and asked her to read it? What if they discussed pertinent details of a case? The real Ron having no memory of the conversation later would certainly raise suspicions from both parties.
No, she had to consider the timing carefully. It had to be planned out. The last thing she wanted was to get Ron in trouble for something she was doing.
A knock on her open office door came then, and she looked up to see Harry there, leaning against the door frame.
“Harry,” she said, smiling. “What are you doing in this part of the building?”
He didn’t return the smile. “It’s Friday,” he said flatly.
She blinked at him, not understanding.
“Lunch on Fridays,” Harry reminded her coolly. “The thing we’ve been doing every week for the past nine months?”
Hermione’s stomach dropped. She had forgotten. “Oh, Harry, I’m-“
“It was your week,” he said, interrupting her. “When you didn’t show I came here to look for you. They said you’d gone out. I thought maybe you were grabbing food for us. But then you never showed up.”
“I’m sorry, Harry,” she said. “I just… something came up. Something important. I had to step out and take care of it.”
“I get it,” said Harry. “But you could have at least told me.”
“No, I know. I just… I forgot. I’ve been distracted lately.”
“Yeah,” he said. His eyes were accusatory, and it made Hermione’s insides burn.
“Look, it’s not a big deal,” she said. “I’ll just make up for it next week, and we’ll resume as usual.”
Harry nodded slowly. “Yeah, right. Not a big deal. Well, that’s good to know.”
“What?”
“It’s just good to know it’s not that important to you. I’ll keep that in mind for the future.” He shrugged nonchalantly, but of course Hermione wasn’t fooled.
“Harry…”
“Look, I’ve got to run. I’ve got a meeting.”
“Don’t be like this.”
He looked at her, and there was real hurt in his eyes. “Like what, Hermione? Someone who doesn’t enjoy being stood up? I know it’s different for you, being free and clear to do whatever you want, but I have a kid now, and I don’t get a lot of time to…” He shook his head. “Forget it. I just wanted to…” He rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Never mind.”
“Harry…”
“I’ll see you around, yeah?”
“Harry!”
But he was gone. Hermione sat behind her desk, considering going after him. But she had work of her own to do, and really, wasn’t he overreacting just a bit? It was just lunch. One week of missing it wouldn’t kill them. He didn’t have to be a baby about it.
Wait until he hears that the ‘important’ thing you had to do was go have lunch with Ron, said a voice inside her. Then he’ll really feel cared about. She buried her head in her hands, her insides churning with guilt once more.
I’m just trying to do the best I can, she thought, wanting to be able to tell Harry that, to tell the world that. I’m doing all that I can do.
Up Next: Harry and Teddy have a long, hard day.
SickPuppy: Thanks for the sympathies and the feedback about “bugger all.” At this point I don’t even know where it came from. Here in the States our slang is very regional and also borrowed from many different cultures and languages so it’s hard to keep track. The most likely thing I think in this case is that I heard it and some point and have just been using it wrong. I’d love to know a good substitute if you have one, since I do try to make the language in this story feel as authentic as possible (I miss the mark sometimes, I know). Any suggestions are always appreciated!
LadyShire: Interesting theory about Mila… I guess we’ll just have to see :) As for Madam Lorenz, I know what you mean. She means well, and has no ill intention towards Mila, but she doesn’t quite know how to handle this situation, so she doesn’t say the smartest things. But she’s not a villain by any stretch.
I’m so glad you feel like you are getting to know all of the characters. That was fully my intention with this story and it means so much that you’re enjoying it!
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