Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

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
- 18
- 19
- 20
A/N: Another week, another chapter. I'm really excited to be getting back into this fic again. My brain is already tumbling around in the chapters to come. They are going to be some good ones, I promise!
But for now, enjoy this one. And please review!
Warnings: some references to blood and violence (implicit, but not explicit)
Chapter 19: Cloud
(Hermione)

Hermione swore as she bumped her head yet again trying to exit the floo into her empty house. She stood upright and rubbed at the spot, feeling coarse, short hair under her fingers that was nothing like her own.
How did Ron manage living every day is such a large body, she wondered as she worked on getting her balance again. She had taken polyjuice potion to turn into him almost an hour ago, and she still couldn’t get used to how tall he was. Everything, ceilings, doorways, chandeliers, were so much closer now. It made her want to duck her head constantly.
She did rather like how strong she was at the moment, though. Ron’s muscles were really quite fun. She had a powerful temptation to go through the house and rearrange all the furniture singlehandedly, just to prove she could. But then she remembered that she could just do it all by magic, as would Ron if he were here, and she realized she was being silly.
She adjusted the extra bits she had between her legs for about the millionth time and made her way into the kitchen. It wasn’t the first time she’d felt what it was like to have male genitalia. When she’d polyjuiced into Harry that one time during the war she had noted the change then, too. But she’d tried to take a more clinical approach to the difference then, so as not to embarrass Harry or think too much about the most intimate parts of him.
With Ron, on the other hand, she’d spent plenty of time already thinking about the most intimate parts of him, and that made it all the more strange to feel what it was like to carry them around with her.
Would it be weird if I had myself a quick wank, to see what it feels like? she wondered idly. Just for the sake of scientific inquiry, of course.
She shook herself with a small chuckle. She was getting distracted from the mission at hand.
Phase 1 of said mission had gone off without a hitch. This was thanks to careful planning on her part, not to mention a bit of luck. She’d waited for the day the Aurors took their retreat, an all-day event filled with sessions and activities that were supposed to build camaraderie and help integrate the newest members into the ranks. She knew, from what Ron had told her, that all of the Aurors would be out of the Ministry for the entirety of the morning, and then it was only the Junior Aurors, led by Ron and his assistant, Weekes, who would be returning in the afternoon with their own session on acclimating to life in the Corps.
Hermione had taken full advantage of the emptiness of the Auror halls and made her move then, polyjuiced as Ron in order to get into the InfiniVault. She was lucky enough not to run into anyone while she was there, and she was in and out quickly, having full knowledge of the minor wards Ron put on the office when he was away and the password for the InfiniVault.
And now she had a name: Soren Guensler. He was 38 years old, Swiss born, educated at Durmstrang, and currently working as a potions researcher and running a small potions business out of his home in London. There had been very little on him, other than that. He had no criminal record and had not participated on either side during the second wizarding war. He was, by all accounts, unremarkable.
Still, she felt an unwavering need to get her eyes on him, to talk to him. She couldn’t help but feel that if she did, she would learn something important. She didn’t know why; she just felt it.
Hermione ate lunch while she waited for the polyjuice to wear off. She had a roast beef sandwich and crisps, and was shocked to find that when she was finished she was still quite hungry.
No wonder Ron eats so much, she thought ruefully. Apparently it required a lot of energy to keep his muscular body running. She contemplated making another sandwich, but soon felt the odd bubbling sensation on her skin that meant she was returning to her normal self. When her waist began to shrink, so did her stomach, and by the time it was done she found herself quite full and satisfied. Hermione logged that tidbit away in her brain for future reference.
She removed the now-baggy Auror robes she had been wearing and trudged up the stairs to change. It was time for Phase 2, and that meant some glamour charms.
She would not go see Soren Guensler as herself. She had decided that early on. He may not have been involved in the war or have lived in the UK very long, but Hermione was a rather recognizable witch, even now, and it was best not to risk it. For the purposes of her cover, she needed to have a name he would not have heard of.
Half an hour later Hermione looked in the mirror, satisfied with the result. She had straightened and darkened her hair, sharpened her nose, and lightened her eyes to a greenish hazel. Someone who knew her very well might be able to spot her among the changes, but most people wouldn’t give her a second glance.
All right, she told herself, taking a deep breath. No use dawdling. She’d taken the day off work for this. There was no point wasting it.
Ignoring the rush of adrenaline that clenched her insides and caused her heart to pound in her chest, she turned on the spot, Disapparating directly out of her bathroom and reappearing in the designated Apparition spot that was closest to her parents’ neighborhood. Guensler lived just around the corner from them, and the house was not difficult to find.
Guensler was quite good at keeping up appearances, Hermione noted as she approached the house. The wrought iron gate was in good repair, the garden was neat and fully Muggle, with not a hint of a magical plant to be seen anywhere. The house itself was painted periwinkle blue, fitting in with every other house on the street. Hermione would have no reason to believe a wizard lived here, had she not already known that one did.
She rang the buzzer next to the door, a white button embedded in a clean brass plate, and then waited patiently on the stoop, her heart still going strong in her ears. A few deep breaths later and some of her excitement subsided. And just in time, too, because the door was answered but a moment after by a lean man in jeans a green button-down shirt. He had sandy blond hair, a pinched, pink mouth, and light blue eyes, which he used to take in the sight of the woman before him.
“Good afternoon,” Hermione said. “My name is Olive Hopkins. I’m looking for Mr. Soren Guensler.”
After a beat he replied. “I’m Soren Guensler. How can I help you?” His voice was a little reedy and carried a noticeable, but not unpleasant, German lilt.
Hermione looked up and down the street, then took a step closer. “I’m a researcher with the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad,” she said, keeping her voice low. “I’m following up on an incident that occurred in your home on the morning of September 2^nd. Would it be all right if I asked you a few questions? Strictly for research purposes, you understand.”
Guensler too glanced up and down the street before replying. “You’re from the Ministry?”
“Yes, sir.” She gave the man a bland, professional smile.
“Very well,” he said, after only the slightest hesitation. “Come in.”
“Thank you.” Hermione took another deep breath and she followed him into the house, which was laid out much like her parents’ own. Guensler led her to a sitting room to the right off the foyer and invited her to sit.
“Would you like tea?” he asked her.
“Yes, thank you,” she said, taking that as a good sign. If he was going to serve tea, he was prepared for a full conversation, and might not try to rush her out the door.
While Guensler was in the kitchen Hermione looked around the room, noting, again, how very Muggle it all looked, with the matching sofa and chair set, the vase of peonies on the coffee table, and the sleek electric lamps in every corner.
He must entertain Muggles as well, Hermione thought. Most interiors of wizarding homes were part Muggle, part magical, as inside their homes they didn’t have to worry much about secrecy. Guensler’s situation was obviously different.
Some movement caught her eye, and she realized that there was something magical in the room after all: wizard photographs.
She stood, leaving her notebook and purse on the sofa and coming to a table against the far wall that was laid out with a number of framed photographs.
Some were only of people Hermione didn’t know, but Guensler himself was in quite a few of them, his arm around someone else in the photograph as he smiled and waved. It was clear that the man liked to travel. Hermione recognized the Arc de Triomphe in Paris, the Forbidden City in Beijing, and a beach that she thought might be in the Caribbean. The turquoise water lapped at the white sand while Guensler, clad in sunglasses, walked alongside a man that looked quite a bit like him.
“Like my photographs?”
Startled, Hermione stood upright, turning to Guensler, who she hadn’t heard come back into the room.
“They’re lovely,” she said, recovering. “You’ve been a lot of places.”
“Yes, my family likes to travel together.”
“That’s nice. So does mine, when we have the time, though we mostly stay within Europe.”
Guensler nodded. “For us, too, at first. But my brother Lars moved to Beijing a number of years ago, and we started exploring outside the continent.”
“Is that your brother there?” Hermione asked, pointing to the beach picture. Guensler nodded. “What does he do in Beijing?”
“He was a Healer, but now he does mostly research.”
“Oh, how interesting. So you both went into research fields.”
“We have a lot in common,” Guensler replied with a soft smile. “We were very close when we were younger.”
“But not anymore?”
His smile stiffened, just slightly. “It is difficult to stay in touch when we live so far away.”
“Right, naturally.” Hermione didn’t press. That, apparently, was a bit of a sore spot.
“The tea will be ready in a moment.” He gestured toward the sofa. “Shall we?”
“Yes, of course.” She took her place by her things on the sofa while Guensler took one of the chairs.
“You said you’re a researcher as well? For the Ministry?”
“That’s right. The Squad is interested not just in dealing with the aftermath of accidental magic, but also in understanding what causes it, and understanding the nature of it.”
“Is your goal prevention?” he asked. “Because I imagine that would be rather difficult, given that the magic is, by nature, accidental.”
“True,” she said. “It would be hard to prevent altogether. But there are cases in which it might be contained, if we understood the nature of the raw magic.”
He looked at her with narrowed eyes, and Hermione couldn’t tell whether he was skeptical or merely thoughtful. She pressed on.
“In your case, for example, there was extensive property damage to surrounding homes. If we could find a way to minimize such things, that would make the Squad’s job considerably easier, wouldn’t you say?”
“I suppose you have a point,” Guensler replied, just as the kettle began to whistle from the kitchen. “That’s the water for the tea,” he said. “Do you like cream or sugar?”
“Um, cream, thank you,” said Hermione. She breathed a small sigh once he had left the room. Was Guensler suspicious of her? She didn’t think she’d given much reason for him to be. Perhaps he was simply nervous to be rehashing his case with a Ministry official. Did that mean he had something to hide, or was it just a natural reaction in a situation like this?
It would be a great help if Ron were here, she thought glumly. He was trained in this sort of thing. He might have been able to pick up on something about Guensler that she couldn’t. But he wasn’t here, and so she was on her own. She would just have to carry on.
Guensler returned with two mugs of tea, setting one in front of Hermione on the coffee table. She thanked him, then dipped the bag in and out a few times as she waited for it to steep.
“I won’t ask you to retell all of the events as they unfolded, Mr. Guensler,” she said, infusing her voice with calm authority. “The report from the Squad was very thorough. I’m more interested in the nature of the accidental magic than the events that caused it.”
“All right.”
“If you could describe for me what you saw, felt, and heard at the moment of your magical outburst?”
Guensler stared into his mug of tea. “It all happened so fast.”
“I understand. But you may remember more than you realize. Close your eyes, if that helps.”
Guensler eyed her skeptically for a moment before complying.
“Good,” Hermione said. “Now, think back to what you were doing the moments before the explosion. You were brewing your potion…”
“Yes. I was… crushing acromantula hair with my mortar and pestle.”
“Good. What happened next?”
“I… added it to the potion. It started to bubble, and then…” His closed eyes squeezed tighter. “The cauldron burst. I shielded by body with my arms, and my hands… they went white hot. I remember it was, sharp, like electricity, like lightning.” He opened his eyes. “It was like I had been shocked, but in reverse.” He shook his head. “That doesn’t make any sense, does it?”
“No, that’s very good,” Hermione said, writing furiously. “What did it sound like? Look like?”
“Like cracking open the sun… if the sun was white instead of yellow. There was a burst of white light. It went out in all directions.”
Hermione nodded vigorously. She could work with this.
“You’re not drinking your tea.”
“Hm?” Hermione looked up from her notebook to see he was staring at the mug in front of her.
“You asked for cream, didn’t you? I’ll fetch it.”
“Oh, I…” But he’d already stood and left the room.
She looked over the description so far as she waited, deciding what else she needed to know, but it was hard to focus. She felt giddy, lightheaded. Her plan was actually working! If she could get enough a detailed enough description of the kind of energy, the kind of magic, it was, she might be able to determine what specifically it had done to her parents’ minds. She needed some good texts on magical theory, she reminded herself. She’d go by Flourish and Blott’s after she was done here to pick up a few.
Guensler returned with a small carton and placed it in front of her.
“Thank you,” she said. She added a dash of cream to her tea and stirred it with a spoon before taking a sip. She paused a moment when she realized the tea tasted a bit sweet. Guensler must have prepared it with sugar, forgetting she’d only asked for cream. Her presence must have been making him more nervous than she realized. She shook herself. It didn’t matter. “Tell me more about what the burst sounded like.” She took another sip of tea before putting it down and returning her attention to her notes.
“Well…” Guensler began, tilting his head and thinking back. “There was… a crack sort of sound, and then…” He trailed off as a white light drifted into the room, turning to stare at it.
Hermione watched it too, as it formed itself into a corporeal Patronus. She felt the back of her neck prickle as she saw that it was a greyhound, one she recognized. She suddenly felt a bit sick. She’d gotten this message before.
“This is a Patronus from the Auror Corps Family Alert System,” said the greyhound in a calm, female voice. “This is to inform you that Auror Ronald Bilius Weasley has been taken to St. Mungo’s Hospital with a severe injury. As his emergency contact your presence is required in the Spell Damage ward. Good day.” The Patronus vanished with a puff.
Hermione stood abruptly, feeling dazed, barely registering the fact that Guensler was gaping at her, open-mouthed.
“Ms. Hopkins?” she heard him ask through the fog of panic that was descending upon her.
“I’m sorry. I have to go,” she managed in a choked whisper, before pulling out her wand. She gathered her things to her and turned on the spot.
The suffocating sensation of Apparition hardly helped the dizzying panic swirling around in her head, and when she landed in the entrance of St. Mungo’s she staggered forward, unable to stay upright any longer. She was vaguely aware of someone running towards her, shouting, and a pair of hands gripping her at the elbows, catching her mid-fall.
Thank you, she wanted to say to her helper, but couldn’t form the words. The fog was blanketing over her, making everything fuzzy, and there was a roaring in her ears that drowned out everything else. She fought half-heartedly for a second or two, but it was no use. She had no choice but to close her eyes and give into it, falling into blackness.
***
When Hermione came to, the roaring was gone, leaving a strange sense of quiet around her. It took her a moment to register the faint sounds of people talking and moving around. It sounded like it was all happening behind a thick door.
There were closer sounds, too. The ticking of a clock, and the deep, even rhythm of someone breathing.
She opened her eyes and saw Ron. He was in a bed, not but a few meters from her. She was in a bed, too, she realized. One just like Ron’s, only on the other side of their small hospital room. After she’d fainted someone must have recognized her, realized why she was there, and put her in the room with Ron.
She touched her face and ran fingers through her hair. It was all familiar; her glamour spells had broken. She wondered when that had happened, and decided it must have been when she blacked out.
I can’t believe I fainted. She was a little embarrassed about that. The first time Ron was injured, she had been near hysterical, but she had remained conscious. For some reason, this time around was even more of a shock.
Sitting up, she found to her relief that the dizziness was gone as well. She hopped off the bed and came to Ron’s, looking him over with a careful eye.
He was unconscious, probably dosed with a sleeping draught. His left arm was in a sling, but the rest of him looked fine. Other than the arm, and that he was a little pale, he looked healthy and intact.
He reinjured his arm somehow, she speculated. It was the only explanation she could think of. But how?
“Oh, good, you’re up,” came a familiar voice, and Hermione turned to see Draco standing in the doorway in his pale blue Healer robes.
“Draco,” Hermione said in surprise as he came into the room. “Are you on Ron’s case?”
The blond shook his head. “No, but I heard he was brought in, and I knew it was only a matter of time before you showed up. A friend of mine working a shift on this ward told me you’d lost consciousness on your way in. I made sure they put you in here so you’d be close to him when you woke up.”
“That was very thoughtful of you,” Hermione said, blushing with more embarrassment at the prospect of having fainted like a damsel in front of all those people. “Thank you.”
“Not a problem.”
“You’re still on shift?”
He nodded. “Until eight. But when I get off I can stick around. I’ll tell Harry to come by too, if you want. He can leave Teddy with Molly for the night. I thought you might like the company.”
“I would,” Hermione said gratefully. She turned to look at Ron. “But mostly right now I just want to know what happened. I guess you wouldn’t have the details, would you?”
“I don’t know how he got injured again,” he replied. “You’ll probably have to talk to the Aurors to get that story. But I do know it’s his shoulder, and they had to do the same procedure they did last time, where they…” He paused.
“I remember.” Last time, they’d had to reattach his shoulder to its socket, knit the skin back together, and extract the residual magic that lingered from the curse. Hermione hadn’t been there, but she’d heard all about it. She hadn’t been able to get those images out of her head for weeks. “It was successful?”
“That’s what they tell me,” said Draco. “I can grab one of the residents on the case and they can tell you more, but it sounds like he’ll fully recover.”
Hermione heaved a sigh. “Thank Merlin,” she whispered.
“It would be best if he didn’t do this again, though,” Draco said dryly. “I think he’s used up all his luck on this one.”
“No kidding,” said Hermione, feeling her face tighten. “I want to know how the hell this even happened.”
“Uh-oh,” said Draco, sounding amused. “I know that look. Heads will roll.”
“You’re damn right,” she replied.
He smirked. “Can I stay and watch?”
“Don’t you have a job you’re supposed to be doing?” she asked him, arching a brow. “Saving lives and all that?”
Draco’s smile turned sheepish. “Yes, as a matter of fact I do. If I had all day to spend here, I would, you know.”
“I do know, Draco. Thanks. But I’ll be all right.” She felt her brave face crumbling even as she said it, a lump forming in her throat. Draco stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her.
“I’m sorry this happened again,” he said softly. “You must have been terrified.”
“Shocked,” Hermione admitted. “I was reliving the whole thing over again.”
“I can only imagine.”
“You prepare yourself for this, you know. Or you try to. But when it actually happens…” She trailed off, realizing she had no way to properly describe the fear, the absolute world-shattering panic.
“I know. I think a lot about how glad I am that Harry decided not to become an Auror. I’m not sure I could handle it as well as you do with Ron.”
“You would have found a way, I’m sure,” she said, pulling back from him. “But I’m glad too. I’ve enough to worry about without adding Harry's safety to the mix.”
“Yes, and Merlin knows you’ve had plenty to worry about lately, especially, haven’t you?”
Hermione looked up at him, and thought he might be giving her a significant look, as if… as if he knew about her parents.
“Yes, I have,” she replied. “What with Ron getting injured twice now, and… and Andromeda’s illness, and everything.”
He looked down at her, as if contemplating his answer. Finally, he nodded. “Yes. It’s been one hell of an autumn, hasn’t it?”
Hermione nodded in reply, suppressing a relieved sigh.
“I have to get back to my patients.”
“Of course,” Hermione said, patting him on the arm. “Do what you need to do. I’ll see you later?”
“Sure. I’ll come by around eight or a little after. And I’ll floo call Harry once he’s home with Teddy, which should be soon. He’ll come when he can I’m sure.”
“Great.”
“For now, why don’t I tell Ron’s Healers that you’re ready to speak with them?”
“Yes, thank you.”
After another brief hug Draco left, and only a few minutes later Healer Tomlinson, a willowy wizard with a bald spot forming in his sandy hair, appeared, along with one of his residents.
Hermione was glad to see Healer Tomlinson on the case. He was Ron’s Healer last time, and so was familiar with the previous injury. He talked Hermione through what had happened when Ron arrived at St. Mungo’s and what they did to treat him.
“I don’t know the circumstances of the injury,” he said to Hermione when she asked. “But I can tell you it was a different curse than last time.”
Hermione’s brow furrowed. “But with the same effect?”
“The first injury was nearly healed, but not quite, so any powerful dark magic acting upon it probably would have had the same effect. It reopened the wound.”
“So the treatment protocol will be the same.”
Tomlinson nodded.
“How long, this time?” The recovery period the first time had been long enough. She dreaded to think of how long it would take this time around.
“We’re looking at another six to eight months. So, about the same. But I want to increase the intensity of the treatment. We’ll return to the potions regimen we used last time, but keep it going for longer. And you’re familiar with the healing salve?”
Hermione nodded. “Yes. That seemed to work well for him.”
“Good. And I’ll want him to come to the hospital for treatment every two weeks, to siphon off more of the residual magic from the curse. It’s going to be intense for these first few months.”
“We’re supposed to get married in May. Should we push it back, give him more time to heal?”
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” the Healer replied. “There will be a lot of healing up front, but he will be mostly recovered by April, I think. Then it’s just a matter of taking it easy, as we instructed before.” His expression looked suddenly admonishing, though not necessarily directed at Hermione herself. “Again, I don’t know the circumstances of his injury, but it was a very powerful curse that did this, not an accident.”
“You’re implying he must have gotten it while battling a dark witch or wizard.”
Tomlinson shrugged. “It’s not for me to say, but that is the most likely scenario. You’ll have to discuss the specifics with the Aurors. However, I cannot stress enough how important it is that this never, ever happen again. If Auror Weasley injures that shoulder a third time, he will not be so lucky. He could very well lose full function, or lose the arm itself and need a prosthesis. This is very serious.”
“I understand completely,” said Hermione. “I will be sure to stress the seriousness of the situation to Ron and to the Corps. This will not happen again, not if I have any say in it.”
Tomlinson nodded, looking satisfied. “Good.” They discussed more of the specifics of Ron’s treatment, what he would need in terms of at-home care for the next few weeks, and what to expect during the process.
“Auror Weasley will likely be asleep for another couple of hours. When he wakes, it will likely be time for his first round of potions. We’ll be back to take care of that around half five. If he wakes before then, let his Mediwitch know and she’ll fetch us.”
“I will, thank you.”
Tomlinson gave her a reassuring smile. “Your fiancé is a strong wizard and a fast healer,” he said. “And he was, again, very lucky. It’s going to be all right, Ms. Granger, I can assure you. We’ll take very good care of him.”
“I know you will,” said Hermione. “I’m very glad to see you on the case.”
“My pleasure. I’ll see you soon.”
The Healers left, and Hermione took a seat in a chair next to Ron’s bed, resting back and remaining silent as she watched his chest rise and fall.
What were you doing Ron? she wondered. How did this happen? Did you go into the field when you weren’t supposed to?
She didn’t think Ron would do that. He had been very careful throughout his recovery. And he had been so close to being fully healed. Why would he have risked that?
There was a knock on the door, and Hermione turned, expecting to see a Mediwitch, or perhaps Draco again, coming to check on Ron. But she saw neither.
It was Gerald Weekes, looking pale and shaken.
“Hermione,” he said. “Can I come in?”
Hermione stood. “Gerald.” She hadn’t known him long, as he and Ron had only been working together a few months. But he was a good Auror and clearly looked up to Ron and worked hard for him, and that ingratiated him to Hermione considerably.
“I wanted to come earlier,” he said, “but they kept me at the Ministry for a while, to give a statement.”
“What happened? Were you there?”
“I was there.” The Auror ran a hand through his brown hair. “We all were. All the Senior Aurors, anyway.”
“Tell me.” She gestured to another chair and returned to hers.
Weekes sat down, clasping his hands in front of him. “It was the Green Adders. You know who I’m talking about?”
“Yes. Ron’s told me about them.” The Green Adders was a group of former Death Eaters, fugitives who had managed to avoid Azkaban after the war because they were never caught. Apparently they were working in secret, furthering the cause of blood purity by violent means. They had become active only in the past year or so, but she knew they had already caused plenty of trouble for the Ministry.
“Right, well… they attacked us during the retreat. I don’t know how they found us; we were in the middle of nowhere, protective wards all around…”
“The entire Corps?”
“Well, not all of us. Ron and I had returned to the Ministry already with the Junior Aurors. But we weren’t there long before we received a distress call from the group. All of the Senior Aurors were ambushed. It was totally unexpected, and the faction was… large. Larger than we would have thought. They’ve obviously been recruiting.”
Hermione took that in, horrified. “They were trying to… kill Aurors?”
“Terrorize us, more like. They weren’t using any Unforgiveables, although they used plenty of dark spells. I think they were trying to scare us, show us what they were capable of. But those of us back at the Ministry, Robards, Ron, me, the Junior Aurors, we didn’t know that. They were calling for backup, and we… well, we went.”
“All of you?”
Weekes shook his head. “Me, Ron, and some of the more experienced Junior Aurors, anyone who was close to making Senior. The new recruits stayed behind with Robards.”
“This was… a decision you made together?” Hermione asked.
“No. Robards ordered us.”
“He ordered Ron?”
“Yes. He said it was imperative Ron go, since he was the highest ranking Auror among us.”
“Other than Robards,” Hermione pointed out.
“Well… yes,” Weekes admitted.
Hermione thought about that. It looked like she was going to have to have a little talk with the Head Auror. “What happened next?” she asked, needing to know the rest.
“When we arrived at the scene, it was chaos. Spells flying everywhere. A few Aurors were wounded, and some were tending to them. The rest were battling the Adders. But they were outnumbered, so Ron and I joined the fray.” He paused, running a hand over his mouth. “I didn’t see it happen. I was dealing with my own battle, but I heard him yell. Ron. I knew it was him, and I knew… it was bad.” He swallowed, staring at the floor.
“Tell me,” Hermione said, steeling herself. “Go on. It’s all right.”
“Another Auror, Woo, he stepped in to help me, and we got our Adder bound and captured. So I went to Ron. I… there was a lot of blood. He was half-conscious. I recognized… I knew some details about the injury he got before, and I knew… I could see it had happened again and I knew he would have to come to St. Mungo’s. So I Apparated him out and brought him here. The Healers rushed me as soon as I landed on the ward. They didn’t wait…” He swallowed again. “They dosed him with a potion to knock him out and they put his arm back on right there, right in front of me. They told me they were going to admit him, put him in treatment. I knew there was nothing I could do, so I went back to the other Aurors.”
“You did exactly the right thing,” Hermione told him, her voice shaky. She put a hand on his arm. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t know, Hermione, I swear.” He looked at her with pleading, glistening eyes. “If I had known his shoulder was prone to… to reinjury, I would have… I don’t know. I would have-“
“What? Stopped Ron from going, go against Robards’ orders?”
Weekes looked at the floor again. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“This wasn’t your fault,” Hermione insisted. “The very opposite. I’m thanking Merlin right now that you were there, that you got him out in time to save the arm.”
Weekes’ shoulders sagged. “It was so… strange, seeing him like that.” He turned to look at Ron, who was still asleep in the bed. “He always seemed invincible to me, even after I knew about his injury.”
“No one is invincible,” Hermione replied.
“No, I guess not. But he seemed totally recovered, you know. I saw him working out with the trainees all the time. He didn’t seem to be in any pain.”
“He wasn’t,” Hermione said. “Physically, he was back to full capacity. But what the Healers told us the first time around… curses like what caused Ron’s injury leave behind harmful magic. The Healers can get rid of some of it, but some of it has to be processed by the body, by the magical core, and rendered inert. That takes some time. That was why Ron wasn’t supposed to go out in the field. Exposing the shoulder to more magic of a similar nature, very dark magic, essentially, could trigger a kind of ripple effect. That’s what his Healer told me just a few minutes ago. The residual magic in his shoulder and the magic from the curse reacted, compounding on each other and… and causing the new injury.”
Weekes shook his head in disbelief. “I had no idea. I didn’t… I had no idea.”
“There was no reason for you to know that,” Hermione said. “It wasn’t your job to know it. But it was Robards’. The Healers left very specific instructions, which they provided both to me and to Robards, about what Ron should and should not do while in recovery. And the most important one of all was that Ron was not supposed to go into the field, not until his Healers gave the all clear. Robards knew that.”
“I’m sure he didn’t make the decision lightly,” Weekes said softly. “It was a tough call. He thought most of his Corps was in mortal danger.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Hermione said. “Not to me. If he was so concerned about his Aurors, he should have gone himself.”
“As Head Auror, he hasn’t been in the field in a long time…” Weekes trailed off, grimacing under the look Hermione was giving him.
“I appreciate everything you did, Gerald. Ron and I both owe you a lot. But please, never defend Robards’ decision to me. There is no argument you could make that would make me accept it.”
Weekes nodded. He looked over at Ron again. “So, he’ll be all right.”
“Yes,” Hermione said with a sigh. “He will recover fully, Thank Merlin. But he has a few hard months ahead of him, and even longer than that before he can return to the field. Robards may have been looking for the most convenient solution in the moment, but the repercussions… I guess that will be my first question to him. I want to know if he thinks it was worth it, risking Ron like that.”
“And if he says it was?”
“Then…” Hermione considered her answer. “Then, I don’t know. I suppose Ron and I will have to have a conversation about his job, about the man he’s working for, and if the Corps is really kind of organization that Ron wants to be a part of.”
“I hope it doesn’t come to that,” Weekes said. “But I understand why you feel that way.”
“Thanks.” She watched Ron as she spoke. “I know he loves this job. And I know how good he is at it. And I want him to be happy. But I also won’t let it destroy him. I won’t stand for it.”
They were silent for a while, until Weekes said he should get back to the office.
“Don’t you deserve a rest, after everything that just happened?”
He gave her a wry smile. “No rest for me tonight. We captured a few of the Adders during the attack. We’re doing interviews. Since one of the captures was mine, I’m… expected.”
She looked at him in sympathy. “Well, good luck.”
“Thanks.”
“I guess that means Robards will still be in the office.”
“He should be.”
“Good. Then tell him to come here. I want to speak with him.”
Weekes let out a small laugh. “I don’t exactly get to order my Head Auror around, you know.”
“Think of it more as you’re delivering a message from me.”
“All right, but I can’t guarantee he’ll come.”
Hermione smirked. “If he resists, tell him he has two choices: he can either spend a few minutes talking to me now, as the distraught fiancée of one of his Aurors, or he can spend a very long time talking to me later, as the distraught fiancée and a ruthless solicitor. You tell him that and see which choice he picks.”
Weekes smiled. “I can see why Ron is so mad about you.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll give Robards the message.”
“Thanks.”
He took his leave, and Hermione was alone again with an unconscious Ron, wondering how long it would take Robards to show up, and determining exactly what she wanted to say to him when he did.
He surely would know that she was livid, that she held him responsible. But she didn’t yet know how much he cared about that. She’d always found the man difficult to read. When it became clear that Ron would be an invaluable Auror in the Corps, Robards was very effusive about him, and there was a lot of talk about making sure to keep him happy and advances in his career, and all the normal things a boss says about one of their favorite employees. By all appearances Robards was very fond of Ron. But with his injury the first time Hermione started to see the way that fondness would only stretch so far – namely, only as far as Ron was useful to him. And that bothered Hermione immensely. Robards’ Aurors were not merely pieces on a chess board. They were human beings, too.
Ron would not be muscled out of the Corps over this, not so long as he wanted to stay. And he would not be swindled out of any of the compensation he was entitled to, either. She would make sure of it.
But first, Robards had to show up.
She was tired of waiting, and was just considering taking out her notebook and looking over her interview with Guensler when there was another knock on the door. She could tell, just by the slow, powerful rhythm, that it was Robards.
She opened the door to find the Head Auror standing there, looking harassed and impatient. “Hermione,” he said flatly, by way of greeting.
“Gawain,” she replied in the same tone. “Thank you for coming.”
“I don’t have long,” he said. “I know you spoke to Auror Weekes, so you know that we have quite a situation back at the Ministry to deal with.”
“I do know; I won’t keep you but a few minutes. Would you like to come inside?”
She gestured him in and he followed, but still lingered by the door when she closed it, not coming further into the room or even glancing in the direction of Ron’s bed.
“As I said, I don’t have long.”
“I just wanted to make sure, before things go any further with Ron’s treatment, that we understood each other and what needs to happen.”
Robards raised an eyebrow. “What needs to happen?”
“Making sure that Ron is taken care of. I’m sure you must realize that I hold you personally responsible for what’s happened. Therefore I expect you to make it right.”
“If you’re talking about compensation, I can assure you it’s being handled,” Robards said coldly. “Exactly as it was the last time, his hospital bills will be covered, and he’ll receive fully paid leave for recovery, not to mention a generous compensation package on top of that.”
“Yes, he will, and I’m gratified to hear that you will see to it. But I wasn’t just talking about the financial side of things. I’m talking about his job. I’m talking about helping him maintain his sanity while he’s stuck behind a desk for the next six to eight months. I hope you’re not intending to simply leave him with eight hours worth of paperwork to complete each day, or other clerical work. It won’t be good for him. He should be working real cases, contributing in a real, vital way, or he’ll start to feel useless.”
“I will put him to work as I see fit,” Robards replied.
“Doing things ‘as you see fit’ is what got us into this mess. I’m beginning to doubt whether you have Ron’s best interests at heart.”
Robards narrowed his eyes. “How dare you suggest such a thing?”
“Then why did you do it? Why send him into the field, when you knew he was under strict orders from his Healers not to go?”
“I made a judgment call. The other Aurors were in danger and Auror Weasley was the best option we had. I didn’t think Weekes and the Junior Aurors I sent would be able to handle it on their own.”
“And, of course, you couldn’t go with them.”
“Someone had to stay behind with the remaining Junior Aurors, in case the Green Adders attacked the Ministry as well.”
“Which you thought likely?”
Robards’ jaw tightened. “I don’t see why I need to justify myself to you, Ms. Granger.”
“Let me explain it then, in a way you will understand,” Hermione said, straightening up. Robards’ had almost a foot on her, height-wise, but he still leaned back automatically, reacting to her change in posture. “You may see Ron as just another one of your Aurors, one you can use as you see fit, but he’s also one of the most competent, most decorated, and most loved in the Corps, and there are plenty, including the Minister of Magic himself, who would never simply stand by and watch his rights be violated like this. On top of that, he is the center of my universe, and if I thought he was being harmed, I would use everything I have, including my connections, my influence, and my vast knowledge of our legal system, to put a stop to it and end whoever was hurting him.” She took a step closer. “Right now, you’re hurting him. You’ve hurt him, and you will have to reckon with that. The fact that I’m not already taking legal action against you and the Corps is a mercy you should be thanking me for. And from here on out, I expect you to follow the Healers’ mandates about Ron’s treatment and work restrictions to the letter. If I get even a whiff of a violation, I will sue the Corps under the Auror Rights Protection Act for all I can, and I will certainly see to it that you are out of a job.” She stepped back again, not breaking her gaze. “Does that answer your question?”
Robards’ mouth was twisted like he’d swallowed something vile, but he nodded. “I believe we understand each other.”
“Good.” Hermione smiled mildly at him. “I promised I wouldn’t keep you long. That was all I needed to say. So, unless there was something you needed from me?”
“No,” he replied. “There’s nothing. I need to return to the Ministry.”
“All right. Good luck with the interviews.”
He eyed her carefully a moment, but said, merely,” Good day, then.”
“Good day to you,” she replied as he turned to go. “Oh, and Ron is going to make a full recovery,” she added drily. “Thanks for asking.”
Robards’ seemed to have nothing to say to that, and merely left.
Hermione released a shaky breath and made her way back over to the chair by Ron’s bed, sinking heavily into it. That exchange had been rather cathartic, actually, but it left her a quivering bundle of energy. It took her a while to calm down.
It was nice to be alone with only a sleeping Ron for a little while. Draco stopped by to let her know that he had spoken to Harry, who would be coming by just as soon as he got Teddy fed and settled in at the Burrow. Hermione thanked him, and he left soon after. She was alone again to wait for Ron to awaken.
While she waited Hermione went over the notes she’d taken from her very brief interview with Soren Guensler. She hadn’t gotten nearly the details she had wanted, but she did have something to work from. Guensler’s description could at least give her a sense of what category of magic they were dealing with, and that alone might be a help.
It was clear that it would be too much of a risk to return to Guensler’s house and try to finish the interview. She had left very abruptly, and there was a good chance that Patronus gave her away. She, Hermione, wasn’t named in the message, but Ron was. There was a chance that Guensler, if he understood enough about the war and it’s most famous participants, might put two and two together and realize she wasn’t who she said she was.
Or, with any luck, he wouldn’t, and would let it go so long as she didn’t make a reappearance.
What if he reports the incident to the Ministry, though? she wondered, anxiety squeezing her gut painfully. It wouldn’t take much for them to make the leap that it was me, in disguise, posing as a Ministry official.
She breathed through the panic. Guensler might not figure it out. Or he might not want to risk making trouble for himself. If she left it alone, he might do the same.
The thought of returning to his house and Obliviating him crossed her mind, but she quickly dismissed it. That had its own risks. And this was getting well out of hand already.
Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe it would come back and bite her in the arse in the worst way. But there was also a chance that it wouldn’t. There was also a chance that the risk would pay off, if the information she gathered turned out to be helpful to her parents’ case.
Ron stirred, and Hermione quickly shrunk her notebook and slipped it into her purse. She scooted her chair closer, reaching out to touch Ron’s hand lightly as he opened his eyes and blinked a few times. His gaze found hers.
“’Mione,” he croaked.
“Hello, love,” she said softly. “Welcome back.”
Ron took a few deep breaths, blinking slowly. He turned his head, looking around the room.
“Is it me, or have we been here before?” He gave her a weak, but wry, smile.
Hermione let out a watery laugh. “Yes, we have.”
His smile faded. “Tell me honestly. Am I going to be stuck behind a desk for the rest of my career?”
“No, love,” she said, running her fingers over his hand, trying to soothe him. “The Healers told me you’ll recover fully.” She paused; he was still looking at her. “But it is going to take a while.”
Ron closed his eyes, absorbing that. “The wedding?” he asked.
“They‘re confident that you will be mostly recovered by then, enough that it shouldn’t a problem. You may even be fully healed. It depends on how closely you follow their instructions.”
“Then I’ll be sure to follow them quite closely,” he replied. They remained silent a moment. Hermione continued to play her fingers across his hand and up his bare arm. Ron hummed. “You’re being very sweet,” he said. “I thought you’d want to murder me.”
“You think I’d do that? Really?” Hermione asked, fighting a smile.
“It was the first thought I had when the curse hit.” Ron reconsidered after a moment. “Well, maybe not the first. The first thought I had was, Ow, this fucking hurts. The second thought I had was, Hermione is going to kill me. And… I don’t really remember much after that.”
“I had no interest in murdering you,” she replied. “I was saving my energy for Robards.”
Hermione watched as Ron’s expression darkened, various emotions flitting across his face in quick succession. “Right,” he said finally.
She eyed him carefully. “He forced you to go out there.”
“He ordered me to,” Ron said mildly.
“Which, when it comes to you, is practically the same thing.”
“I wouldn’t have lost my job if I refused. I knew that.”
“But he still had no right to order it in the first place. He knew if he did, you would follow it. You always do.”
“The lives of the other Senior Aurors were on the line.”
“I know,” she replied gently. “Which is why I’m not angry with you. But Robards should have known better. He did know better.”
“You’ve spoken with him already, then, I take it?” Ron asked, his voice dry with amusement.
“Yes,” said Hermione, unable to help a small but satisfied smirk.
“What did you say to him?” He watched her, his eyes warm and glinting.
“I told him if he ever goes against your Healers' instructions again, I’ll sue the Corps and have him out of a job.”
Ron chuckled.
“I will, too,” Hermione insisted.
“It’s not that I doubt you, love. It’s just that I wish I could have seen it for myself.”
“Yes, I imagine it was probably quite entertaining. And it made me feel better.” She sobered her expression. “But I also meant it. Every word. The Healers told me if you injure that shoulder again, that could be it. You might lose function in the arm entirely. Then you really would be stuck behind a desk, or be forced to retire. And even with magical prosthetics these days, it’s just not the same. I couldn’t bear it if-“
“Love,” Ron interrupted her. “You don’t have to sell me on it. I won’t go out into the field again, I promise. Not until I know it’s safe for me. Or for my arm, at least.”
Hermione released a breath. “All right.” She reached up, stroking lightly across his cheek. “I believe you.” Her hand drifted to his chest and rested there, feeling the steady beat of his heart. “How are you feeling?” she asked finally. “Hungry? Thirsty? I can get your Mediwitch for you.”
“In a moment,” said Ron. “First I want you to come here.”
“I am here,” Hermione said. “I’m as close as I can get.”
“Not quite.” He made to scoot and make room for her in the bed.
“You’re not serious. There’s barely enough room for you.”
“Come up here. Please,” he said softly.
Feeling a bit silly, she removed her shoes and climbed up onto the hospital bed. Ron wrapped his good arm around her and held her to him, while she found a spot to rest her head in the crook of his neck. They lay there in silence, slowly relaxing into each other.
“All right,” she admitted, after a while. “This is nice.”
“I know,” Ron replied. She felt him turn his head towards her, and she tilted hers up to look at him. He stared down at her, unblinking. “I will never leave you,” he said. “Not by death or otherwise. Not for a very long time.”
Brown eyes looked into sincere blue. “Don’t make promises you might not be able to keep.”
“Making the promise only makes me more determined to keep it,” said Ron. “And I never want you to doubt that I value my life. That it is my intention, my will, to come home to you at the end of every day. I will not be reckless. I need you to believe that.”
“I do,” Hermione said immediately. How could she listen to him the way he sounded, look at him the way he looked, and ever doubt him? Her hand tightened over his chest, gripping the thin hospital gown. “I do.”
Up Next: Harry and Draco celebrate their anniversary.
goddess-of_dragons: Thanks for the enthusiastic welcome back! I’m glad you liked the Vesper/Aurelian exchange. I wanted to show a different side of Kemp since we only saw Harry’s perspective in SMN.
I’ll be interested to see what you thought of this chapter, since you were wondering how things were going to unfold for Hermione. I wanted to shy away from the obvious “Hermione gets up to shenanigans and it all goes wrong” trope. It’s not that there won’t be consequences from her actions, but they won’t necessarily be the most obvious.
Book_addict_89: Glad to be back! It has been a bit of a struggle for good stories lately, hasn’t it? I’ve been catching up on what I missed but truth be told there hasn’t been much in my areas of interest. Are you going to be continuing the one you started? I’d like to see where that goes.
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