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The Prisoner	By : Nerys Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 63324 -:- Recommendations : 6 -:- Currently Reading : 13
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 21
- 22
- 23
A/N: I'm terribly sorry about the ridiculously long delay. Part of it was due to me thinking I could stuff everything into one epilogue, which clearly turned out to be impossible, given how much stuff I've binned over time. If only I'd realised that sooner instead of continuing to try. There are three more chapters after this one, maybe a fourth depending on a scene I'm debating about adding or not. Anyway, I also want to apologise for losing track of review replying. Know that I loved reading every single one of them, even the ones inducing tremendous amount of guilt for not having updated yet. ;)
Warning: As of yet unbeta'd. I will post the beta'd chapters as soon as Serp has found time for it, but seeing how she's working on a mini bang for the next month, I didn't want to make you all wait even longer. So any and all errors are mine, and mine alone. I hope it's not too jarring. If you want to wait to read it beta'd, come back some time end October/early November and check if the A/N changed.
The Prisoner
Chapter 22: Grief
Hermione stared out of the window, unseeing. Her comfortable pyjamas on, a blanket around her body, she sat on her windowsill, her knees to her chest, arms wrapped around her legs, a pair of fluffy bunny slippers on her feet. The hearth was crackling with heat.
Yet, she still felt cold, so very cold. Cold and alone.
Ginny'd helped her get clean and dressed as Hermione felt incapable of doing anything at all. She merely stared straight ahead, their magic whirling around her as a brutal reminder of what she'd done. She'd killed her husband, Tom Marvolo Riddle, Lord Voldemort.
There were fireworks going off all above the London skyline. A group of rather drunk people sang loudly in the street, cheering, celebrating. Behind her she heard whispered voices. Someone was at the door. She didn't care who it was. She didn't care one iota about anything, not even the wrinkling of a plastic bag as it was handed over, the bag Ginny had put her blood-drenched clothes in undoubtedly. Evidence of her crime.
'How is she?'
'Not well,' Harry said.
'I'll get this to the evidence room.'
'How's McGregor handling it?'
'Surprisingly cooperative. I think she knows her days as Department Head are numbered. I brought this. Didn't know what to do with it, and I don't think anyone else should get their hands on it, considering,' Ron said.
'I'll take that,' Ginny intervened.
Hermione shut out the conversation, making it a mere murmur in the back of her mind. She didn't care about Katie, the department or anything else. She just wanted them all to leave. She just wanted to be left alone. She wanted Tom back. Something had gone horribly wrong. She was sure she'd done the right thing.
Death is the only way.
How dare he!
Her eyes watered. Her mind couldn't shut down the film playing constantly in her mind of the absolute utter panic in his handsome face, the way he'd pawed at her, how she'd grabbed a hold of him and pulled him to her chest, their eyes connecting as she felt his life force draining away.
'I got you,' she recalled whispering, terrified at the angst in his further paling face. She'd misunderstood. She never misunderstood anything. Why now?
His cough and brief bitter laugh had blood gulfing from his mouth.
'You will,' he'd started to say, but then a rattling noise escaped his lips and his pupils froze.
She'd held his body in her arms as it went slack and devoid of life. It had shocked her beyond belief. She'd never thought it would work, that Lord Voldemort could be taken down by a mere letter opener. It wasn't even a magical letter opener.
I will, what? What would you have me do? You didn't leave me any clues!
'Hermione?' It was Ginny, interrupting her continuously repeating flashbacks, while holding out a steaming mug of hot cacao. 'Wizarding cure to everything,' the redhead said with a knowing understanding, sitting down opposite of her.
Hermione accepted the mug nevertheless and took a sip. The warmth soothed the coldness she felt inside, the emptiness.
'Ron brought you his ring,' Ginny said softly and held it out. 'If you want it.'
Hermione looked at the familiar engravings on the platinum band. 'It doesn't mean anything anymore,' she said hoarsely.
'Given your ring and collar won't come off, I do think it would be wise for you to keep this, hide it so no other can slip it on,' Ginny said, placing the ring next to Hermione on the windowsill.
'It wouldn't work even if they tried,' Hermione whispered. 'I picked seven. They'd die if they put it on; the power would be too great to absorb.'
'Just humour me then,' Ginny said, sounding concerned. 'I can't lose you to another.'
Hermione nodded, taking the ring and feeling it almost burn as she placed it in her pyjama's pocket. Ginny pulled her legs on the sill as well, mirroring her posture as she, too, held on to a steaming mug. They sat there in silence. A rather rambunctious group stopped in front of her building.
'Is this where she lives?'
'I think so.'
'QUEEN!' shouted a witch, her hands thrown up in the air at the flat Hermione lived in before bowing.
'GIRLPOWER!' yelled the one next to her.
'News travels fast,' Ginny whispered.
'Ding dong, the evil wizard is—' Ginny's wand slashed and suddenly all outside noises ceased to enter the flat.
Hermione sent her a weak smile. 'They're understandably happy.'
'No need for you to have to listen to it.'
'You may need to move,' Harry said, walking towards them, leaning over their legs and looking outside, concerned—Hermione noted that he had his wand in hand. 'I don't like that they found out your location so fast.'
'It's never been a secret,' Hermione mumbled.
'Perhaps it would've been better if it were, just like our house.'
'Not now, Harry,' Ginny said.
His green eyes went from the warning expression on Ginny's face to the unmoving Hermione. 'I'll be by the door, just in case.'
Ginny nodded.
'Neville, can you keep an eye on the back?' Harry asked. 'Ron needs all available Aurors at Azkaban and the office. I can't—'
'Done,' Neville said, immediately walking to the bedroom where her French balcony looked out over the flats' private gardens.
Hermione's hands started to tremble around the mug. They were all here for her. She didn't deserve that. She deserved to be dead also. They didn't understand. Ginny's hands fell over hers. Hermione looked up into the brown eyes meeting her knowingly. Her shoulders shook, and she couldn't hold it in anymore, she started to cry. Ginny removed the mug from her fingers and slipped closer, wrapping her arms around her and holding her silently. Hermione clung to her desperately. She didn't know how long they sat like that, how long Ginny held her while she cried her eyes out until she had no more tears left, until she just sat there, feeling empty and drained.
'It'll get better,' Ginny whispered. 'Not now. Not for a long, long time. But eventually. Eventually you'll start to feel like yourself again. Not completely, not like before, but enough,' she paused, leaning back, cupping her face and looking directly at her. 'Just one day at the time. I know you can do this. I know it doesn't feel like you can, but you will.'
Hermione sent her a weak smile. 'When did you get so wise?'
Ginny grinned, 'Don't you know? I always was.'
Hermione snorted. Ginny winked at her, and when Hermione started to laugh, she joined in. Soon, their laughing turned rather hysterical. Harry and Neville came running to check on them, making them both laugh even harder, especially when they exited even faster as they'd come running.
'Men!' Ginny hollered.
'Useless,' Hermione exclaimed, holding on to her belly. 'So scared of emotions.'
The image of Tom in front of her mind's eye sobered her up, and she stopped laughing abruptly. Ginny stopped, too, waiting.
'I'll be fine,' Hermione said after a period of silence, not knowing why she was so sure, but she felt it somewhere inside—a peaceful calmness she'd not felt before.
'I know.'
The next morning the four of them sat at Hermione's tiny kitchen table, eating Hermione's home cooked breakfast in silence. She was pushing her food around the plate with a fork, not really having an appetite. She looked up and snorted when she saw Harry's eyebrows go up after taking his first hesitant bite.
'I can cook when I have the right ingredients, you know.'
'I never suggested you couldn't do something.'
'Sure,' she said, nodding her head in mock belief.
Ginny frowned, chewing on her food happily and looking at her husband. 'Is this why you always found some reason not to go over here for dinner and diverted it to a restaurant or our house?'
'Hah!' Hermione called out.
'Hey,' Harry objected, wiggling his fork at his wife. 'You don't get to admonish me. You didn't have to eat that vile stuff she put in front of us for months.'
'Mostly oats cooked in whatever water was available,' Hermione explained. 'Then whatever I could find in the forest that wasn't poisonous. Not exactly gourmet dinners. I should've stocked up on more canned produce. I guess I underestimated how fast they'd be gone.'
Ginny pulled up her nose.
'From what I've heard, I'm amazed you could still carry that bag,' Neville said, finishing his plate already.
'It wasn't as heavy as it should've been,' Hermione explained.
There was a loud knock on the door, making them stop eating.
'You're expecting anyone?' Ginny asked Hermione as Harry got to his feet with his wand drawn.
'No,' Hermione said, putting her fork down. 'You stay and eat. I'll get it, Harry. I'm not that hungry anyway.'
'No, stay there,' Harry replied urgently, holding his hand up. 'I'll see who it is.'
Hermione rose to her feet, wand in hand as well—not that she needed it.
The little wall separating her living area from her doorway just obscured Harry enough to not see who it was when he'd opened the door, but she recognised the voice and pocketed her wand. Neville and Ginny hadn't.
'Guys, it's fine. It's my Orator,' Hermione said as Jensen came into view while Harry closed the door. She walked past Neville to meet him.
'My apologies for disturbing you,' he said, gesturing at the table filled with food.
'It's fine,' Hermione said. 'Have you eaten yet?'
'No, I never eat in the morning.' He briefly shivered before patting on his briefcase. 'I have some things I need to go over with you right away, privately,' he added, eyeing the three others.
Hermione pointed to the couch and coffee table. Jensen followed while Harry sat back down at the table and scooped up some more of the sausages, bacon and eggs. Ginny just stared at the ragged-looking bloke in bemusement. Hermione waved her hand around in an arch, raising a ward, right when Jensen was about to question her idea of privacy.
'What is it?' Hermione said, crossing her arms.
'I will need some signatures of yours on these documents,' he said, sitting down on her couch and placing his briefcase on the table before opening it. He pulled out several scrolls of parchment and slid them to her down the table. 'It's the formal transference of all his assets into your name.'
'I don't want it.'
Jensen looked up. 'I'm afraid that's not an option.'
'I'll donate it then.'
Jensen leaned back on that couch, scratching the back of his head. 'You have seen the full contents of his vault by now, I presume?'
Hermione swallowed. She had. Besides the insanely valuable books, the numerous rare potion ingredients kept in an ancient, oak cabinet that maintained their freshness, the Dark Arts items she obviously couldn't get rid of without risking someone getting hurt and quite a number of items of historical value she'd furrowed her brow at, there'd been a large sum of cash. She'd never seen that much money before in her lifetime, and she wasn't a poor person by any means. She doubted severely that the Malfoys could top it. She supposed if you never used your own and had a habit of stealing, you could accumulate quite a large sum over the years.
Blood money.
'I have.'
'Well,' he replied, shrugging, 'I suppose it's up to you, being the sole heir, but I'll still need your signature on these.'
When the first scroll unrolled, revealing that fine cursive script she'd got so familiar with, it became too much. Her world turned and twisted. She became light-headed and …
Startled, she sat up on her couch, looking around rapidly, taking in the standing Orator in her living room and the wards obscuring the babbling trio behind it. 'What?'
'I was talking to you, and you became unwell. I hope you don't mind me using a Levitation Charm, but I couldn't let you crash to the floor and I couldn't undo this to get you help.' He gestured to the ward.
'Oh, oh yeah.' A furious heat rose to her cheeks. Seriously? She was passing out now? She knew she'd not been able to take a single bite of food this morning, but this was embarrassing. 'Don't tell them.' She gestured with her head to the kitchen table. 'They get overly worried.'
'Not a problem. I'm your Orator, not theirs.'
Hermione flung her legs off the couch and looked in confusion at the empty coffee table. 'I needed to sign something?'
'You already did,' Jensen replied, patting on his briefcase while eyeing her with a frown. 'You don't remember that?'
'No,' Hermione said slowly.
'I thought I was on time before you struck the coffee table. Maybe I wasn't fast enough? I didn't hear a crash,' Jensen said, seemingly concerned. 'Perhaps you should see a Healer, just in case.'
Hermione moved her fingers over her skull. 'I don't feel any pain,' she said, shrugging and rising to her feet. She didn't recall hitting a table or anything for that matter.
Jensen took a step towards her, catching her arm when she swayed a bit.
'You, okay, Ms Riddle?'
'Yeah, I'm fine,' she replied, shaking her head in annoyance. 'I just need to eat something, I suppose.' She had no idea how she was going to manage that with her stomach constantly in a twist, but this was unacceptable. 'Anything else you need from me?'
'No, just …' He paused, eyes cast downwards, then he shook his head. 'Nah, they won't prosecute you for this.'
Hermione felt herself grow cold. No, they wouldn't. You could commit murder in the wizarding world as long as your target was appropriately hated. Nobody would care. Nobody gave a damn.
'Should they …' he trailed off, staring at her white face. 'No, this is it. Sorry to disturb you, Ms Riddle,' he added lightly, shaking her hand.
Hermione frowned and removed the ward.
'I bid you all a good day, everyone. Thank you for your time, Ms Riddle. Mr Potter, might I disturb you for just a second?'
'Of course,' Harry said, getting to his feet and following Jensen out the door.
Some brief murmurs came from the staircase just outside her flat, but she just stood there, unhearing, unseeing.
'Hermione?' Ginny asked, placing her hand on her arm carefully.
She looked up, shaking her head again.
'You okay?'
'Just a bit dizzy.'
'You need to eat something, that meeting of yours took forever and you hadn't taken a bite before that,' Ginny said knowingly.
Forever, it was only a couple of minutes—
She halted her train of thought, noticing her dining room table had been completely cleared apart from the food on her plate, which they'd stored under a Conservation Charm, keeping it fresh. Steaming mugs of coffee had replaced their breakfast. Her eyes fell on the clock, almost ready to chime ten times. She'd been out for two hours!
No, that was impossible.
'Even if you have morning sickness,' Ginny said understandingly.
'No, it's not that. I'm—I'm not really hungry.'
'I know,' Ginny said, 'Let's try for something less heavy then.'
Ginny sat her down at the kitchen table and then rummaged through the cupboards. Eventually she replaced Hermione's plate for one containing a couple of crackers and added a cup of peppermint tea next to it. Hermione picked up the dry cracker and reluctantly took a bite. Harry came back and gestured to Ginny.
'I have to get back to the Ministry,' he said, kissing Ginny's mouth and looking at Hermione taking another bite of her cracker. 'Can you stay here today? I know Neville has to go to work at noon.'
'I'm on pregnancy leave anyway, so yeah, if you ask Mum if she can keep James for today, I can stay.'
The peppermint tea was nice, Hermione considered, turning to Neville who was asking her opinion about a plant he'd recently acquired.
'I've erected an Auror ward around the property,' Harry said.
'You finally got permission?'
'Yes, so there should be anymore disturbances. Here take this, just in case.' Harry handed Ginny a business card.
Ginny quirked an eyebrow. 'Seriously?'
'If I can't make this go away, yeah.'
'Go then,' Ginny said hurriedly, practically pushing him out the door.
'Thanks, Neville,' Harry said over his shoulder. 'I'll see you later, Hermione.'
'Later, Harry,' Hermione said with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
At noon, they bid Neville goodbye.
'Now that he's also finally gone,' Ginny said, determinedly, grabbing her coat and tossing Hermione hers. 'Come on.'
'Where are we going?' Hermione questioned, putting on her coat.
'Getting some fresh air or do you prefer to stay cooped up in this place?'
Hermione smirked. 'No, actually.'
She took Ginny's arm for a side along Apparition. When she arrived on a familiar path between the lush green plants and flowers of the garden at St. Mungo's, she turned to Ginny, raising an eyebrow.
'I had Harry schedule a meeting with Healer Oliver for you,' she tutted when Hermione started to splutter in protest. 'No, no, no, it's not open for discussion. I won't allow you to go without as I had to do. Looking at you right now is like I'm looking in a freaking mirror eleven years ago. I'm here for you. Harry's here for you, but you need to be there for yourself, too. And well,' Ginny shrugged, 'certain things might be easier to say to a professional.'
'Such as?'
'Such as your love for him,' Ginny said, placing her hands on her sides.
Love, such a simplified notion.
That wasn't what they'd shared. She'd lost so much more than mere love. She'd lost her whole world. Her hand rested on her stomach. Their child was all that was left of him. She had to take care of her. She couldn't do that like this. She knew that much. It felt like a part of her had been cut away forever when she'd planted that letter opener in his throat.
'Your appointment is in ten minutes. I'll wait here,' Ginny said, sitting down on one of the benches and picking up a Daily Prophet that was left there.
The headlines were filled with Voldemort's death and her 'victory' over the Dark Lord. Hermione swallowed, taking a deep breath to stop the tears from falling again. She hated how she'd suddenly turned into this weeping mess who cried at nothing. Ginny was right, seeing a professional would be advisable.
'Thank you,' she said, looking at the red hair behind the paper when suddenly the headlines changed with new breaking news, 'Healer Coker fired from St. Mungo's under scandalous circumstances'.
Shocked, she grabbed the paper from Ginny's hands.
'Eh! I was reading that.'
'That was my Healer!' Hermione said, her eyes racing over the article.
The Magical Health Board announced that, effective immediately, Healer Coker's license to practice Healing Magic has been revoked. This occured right after they'd made an unannounced review tour of his offices. Such a quick filing is unheard of, but 'special circumstances' were evoked by the Controllers. The impromptu visit is said to have originated from the multiple complaints that had been filed in the past regarding suspected usage of uncontrollable substances. This reporter was told by highly respected sources at St. Mungo's that when the Controllers arrived, Healer Coker was found doing indescribable perversions to himself while stoned out on fertility potions and even seemed unable to stop while being carted out of his office by Unspeakables, bringing true embarrassment to St. Mungo's administrator Arden and her clearly ineffective security measures.
Former Magical Health Board Head, Nair, states that contracting the Department of Mysteries by the M.H.B. to handle this situation is so uncommon that it likely means Coker's condition is irreversible and has been longstanding.
According to Potions' Addiction Specialist, Browning, usage of fertility potions come with the serious risk of forming a self sustainable reaction inside the human body, therefore not needing additional dosages to be taken to maintain their user's high. When such a cycle has started, the process is impossible to breach. As Coker clearly had been unable to stop performing sexual acts despite his bleak circumstances, Browning, like Nair, also believes his addiction had been longstanding and estimates the chance that once famed Healer Coker will recover at this stage of his addiction is close to none. Browning concludes that a Healer falling into the trap of these potions despite being fully aware of their risks shows the true lure and danger they possess, and she once again advocates for the banning of these types of potions.
However, this reporter is asking herself how this kind of salacious and scandalous behaviour has gone unnoticed in the centre of England's most famous hospital all this time? And she fully subscribes to the question now on everyone's mind who's ever been a patient there: How safe are we in the hands of our Healers at St. Mungo's?
'Blimey,' Ginny said, having read over her shoulder. 'You never notice any of this?'
'No, he never showed any outward signs. He actually seemed perfectly fine to me,' Hermione said, pondering. 'Bit old-fashioned, but…'
Their conversation suddenly came to the forefront of her mind, chilling her heart.
'You've become addicted.
Am not.
You wouldn't be the first. Though that incompetent Healer should've picked up on it by now.'
'But what?' Ginny asked.
No, she was being ridiculous. He was dead.
Ginny kept eyeing her, waiting for an answer.
'Well, Coker never did seem to mind to keep prescribing me fertility potions despite the duration I'd already been on them.'
The venom in his tone as he'd snarled, 'incompetent Healer' …
She'd thought then that Coker was lucky Voldemort was behind bars.
Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of him maybe having survived.
Again.
Then it sank upon realising that he couldn't be alive, because she'd sense his presence then. The bond would be undeniably pulling her towards him. She didn't feel any pull whatsoever. He was truly gone. This was just a freak coincidence. Sadness swallowed her up, clutching to her throat.
Ginny shrugged, taking the paper back. 'Maybe that's how he paid for them?'
'You think he prescribed needless potions to get his own?'
'He wouldn't be the first. Potions companies do give out bonuses. Maybe this was his bonus?'
'Maybe,' Hermione said, uncertain and shivering. There was an unease and darkness in the air now that she couldn't seem to shake.
'Hey, your appointment!' Ginny interrupted, shaking her out of her thoughts and tapping repeatedly on her wrist as if she wore a wristwatch.
'Already going. Going! Hermione repeated with emphasis, holding up her hands in defence as she walked backwards before turning and walking to Oliver's nearby office. She could already see the Healer standing outside his bifold doors in the garden, smoking a cigarette.
Apparently Coker wasn't the only one having issues with addiction, Hermione thought when Oliver pushed out the cigarette and bade her to enter.
Kingsley scratched his bald head, putting down the resignation letter on his desk. 'You're putting me in an impossible situation, Katie. I have no replacement with Hermione completely shattered.'
'No, I'm doing you a favour by handing you this, and you know it. What are mere whispers now will soon be loud voices, wondering why their minister isn't taking action, demanding you'd do something. You would've had to fire me eventually, and I've got a standing job offer I've been refusing for years that I'd now rather take before all the details start to come out.'
'You know we won't release all the details. We can't afford to,' Kingsley countered.
'I know, but I know I erred, too, and people talk. Leaks happen, even in the Department of Mysteries. My authority inside the department is already wavering. It won't be long before my orders will be outright questioned. People are mad.'
'It shouldn't be you they take that out on.'
'But that's the way it is,' Katie said, resigning. 'I know Hermione's not ready right now, but she will be soon. She's strong. Boot can hold the fort until she's ready. I've cancelled all outside operations, and the experiments indoors can proceed without needing continuous oversight. Just have Boot report to you, or look in yourself from time to time, whatever you wish to do.'
'So I have to deal with an Unspeakable Department not operating at full capacity?'
McGregor shrugged. 'It's for the best. Their heads aren't in the game anyway. Hermione's well-liked within the department. They're rather shaken up about how bad she looked when she was here for the private funeral in the Death Chamber.'
They both stared at each other in silence. 'I hate to see you go like this,' Kingsley admitted.
'I would've liked a more cheerful exit, too, but it is what it is.'
'If you ever need anything, Katie,' Kingsley said, holding out his hand.
'I know where to find you,' she said, shaking his hand with a smile before leaving the Ministry quietly, carrying a small box filled with personal belongings—hidden underneath said belongings and a well-warded faux bottom lay one departmental marital scroll.
Months passed, and Hermione hated that she had to move, but her flat had become quite the pilgrimage site. People were being utterly ridiculous. She also felt Harry was enjoying her plight a bit too much whenever people suddenly hugged and kept thanking her, or when she got free drinks and food when they were out. Wherever she went, people stopped and stared. She'd never had this before when she was just Harry Potter's best friend.
'Doesn't this ever get less?' she hissed in annoyance in the Ministry's lift.
'Nope,' Harry said, smiling broadly. 'Not really. Unless they think you've gone barmy, then you get the Howlers and the jinxed letters.'
Her smack on the back of his head echoed through the lift. His laugh was all the more irritating.
'You could let Skeeter write an article about how you think you're above everyone else. The Dark Lord's Wife rules the Department of Mysteries with an iron fist. Hermione Riddle, hero or villain? Do we have a Dark Lady on the rise? Though that will probably just change the reactions from adoration to dislike or fear,' he said, sniggering.
'You may be on to something there,' Hermione responded thoughtfully. 'Maybe I'll force Skeeter to write an article on how you did the deed but decided to save my married-to-the-Dark-Lord's arse by having me take the credit for his death?' She snorted when she saw Harry's shocked expression.
'Don't you dare,' he hissed.
'Hmmm… I'll have to think about it,' she said in a sing-song voice. 'Sounds like a great out to me. There can only be one Chosen One after all.'
'Now she starts believing in Divination,' Harry mumbled jokingly. 'See you at lunch!' he added, exiting the lift at the Auror Office.
She jolted when the lift moved backwards and then dropped abruptly on its way to the Department of Mysteries. She never got used to the Ministry lifts' erratic pathways. It was slightly nauseating that you couldn't predict how it would move. Therefore she was happy to quickly arrive on her floor. Hermione stalked through the familiar corridors, opening her office's door with a flourish of her wand, its gold-plated name tag stated, 'H.J. Riddle-Granger, Head of the Unspeakable Office'. It had come rather easy to her, being the boss. Katie had left her a well-oiled machine, and all she had to do was restart operations and get rid of some overly complicated filing procedures. She even had time to do her own experiments and pushed forward her timetable on the veil's access.
Well, what good was being the boss if you couldn't get some special privileges?
She placed her cloak on the hanger and moved to her desk, groaning when she saw the pile of files already growing before she'd sat down. A knock on her door stopped her from opening the first one.
'Enter.'
To her surprise, it was Katie McGregor. Hermione smiled and got to her feet.
'Katie, it's good to see you. We never got the chance to say goodbye.'
Katie's eyes darted up and down her figure. 'You look a lot better than last time I saw you.'
'It was a stressful time,' Hermione said, having walked around her desk and shaking Katie's hand.
'Yeah, I do believe I owe you many apologies for that.'
'Water under the bridge,' Hermione said, gesturing at her to take a seat, while getting back into hers. 'May I offer you something to drink?'
Katie shook her head, and said, 'I don't believe I would've been that forgiving in your stead.'
Hermione scratched the back of her neck, her fingers trailing past the collar. 'You did what you thought was best. I know you didn't bank on this outcome. How's life at the United Wizarding Nations?'
'Complicated and messy,' Katie said, snorting.
'I can imagine.'
'Trust me when I say that I thought that, too, before joining, but it's a thousand times worse.'
Hermione laughed. 'Oh dear, just the way you like it then.'
'Yep,' Katie said, smirking.
'So,' Hermione said, pausing, 'what can I do for you?'
'Straight to the point as always,' Katie grinned, and opened her bag, ruffing with her hands through it while she spoke. 'I wanted to give you this at your house, but you're never alone there.'
Hermione groaned, causing Katie to let out a snort.
'I figured you'd hate that. Anyway, I had planned to wait until they all buggered off, but I suddenly got an assignment that will take me to China for quite some time in the foreseeable future and I don't want this to fall into the wrong hands.'
She placed what seemed like a cardboard roll on Hermione's desk and opened it with several complicated flicks of her wand. Hermione raised her eyebrows at the extensive warding.
'I took this with me on my resignation day,' Katie said, pulling out a scroll and handing it to Hermione. 'I figured I owed you that much.'
Hermione rolled open the scroll, raising her eyebrows when it was her official marital scroll to Riddle.
'I left one of our department's perfect forgeries in its stead of course,' Katie added, watching Hermione's eyes go over the document. 'With some additions this one doesn't have.'
'Why would you bother?'
'You don't see it, do you?'
Hermione furrowed her brow, checking the scroll again. There was nothing out of the ordinary on it.
'You're still married,' Katie hinted.
'Yeah, so?' she said, shaking her head and hoisting her shoulders slightly. 'I'm in a Moirae marriage. Death doesn't—' She felt a chill run down her spine upon the realisation. 'Oh.'
Her eyes scanned the official document, and her face paled. It wasn't there.
'I put that day in Azkaban as his date of death on the fake,' Katie said calmly. 'It'll still acknowledge you as married, but should someone decide to look at it, there won't be any inconvenient questions coming your way.'
Hermione swallowed. This was impossible. He was dead.
'I don't get it.'
'I see that,' Katie said. 'To be honest, it's somewhat of a relief that you didn't know.'
'Why didn't you report this?'
Katie rubbed her chin. 'I've wondered about that myself. I don't like the idea of that bloodpurist, homicidal maniac running around freely one little bit, and I've been on the verge of sharing it many times while I was still the head of this department, but you see people were happy he was dead and you were an absolute mess.'
'Why, thank you.'
Katie laughed. 'No, Hermione, you really were right after. This—' She pointed to the scroll. '—the people's reaction to it—this would've landed you in Azkaban. You weren't in the right state of mind to defend yourself, and I couldn't have that on my conscience, not after—after I was the reason you ended up there. Not after you're basically the only reason I'm still standing here alive today.'
'You take on too much responsibility,' Hermione said softly, her eyes still on the scroll.
He hadn't even shown up when Rose was born. Surely he would've had an opinion on the name she'd chosen for their daughter. She'd named Rose after her Muggle grandmother after all. How was this possible? What had she missed? Where the fuck was he if not dead?
Oh Merlin, what was he doing?
Russell!
The guard who'd loved to toy with the lights in Riddle's cell and the guard who'd recently got a strangely painful infliction making his eyesight turn dark during the day and blindingly light at night. She'd sent Moore to investigate, because it had been such an oddity that she'd worried it was some kind of Dark Arts curse. Yet, all Moore had found was a non-contagious, possible environmental and self-inflicted cause of said disease.
Exposure to chemicals, which led to severely deteriorating, irreversible neural damage after repeatedly inadequately cast Healing Charms, she recalled his report concluding. According to Moore, Russell had only himself to blame for not going to a qualified Healer but thinking he could fix his eyesight himself when eyes were in fact one of the most complex parts of Healing Magic. Now Hermione wasn't so sure anymore about those conclusions. Why on earth had she asked Moore to investigate? When had she asked him?
'My infinite failing,' Katie joked, standing up and shaking Hermione out of her thoughts. 'You okay?'
'Yeah,' she said, wrinkling her brow.
She was certain she'd just caught onto something, but it had slipped through her fingers. She hated having those lapses in memory. Trauma blanks, Oliver had called it. She wanted it to be over. He'd told her to not put too much pressure on herself. He always said, 'When you're ready for it, your brain will be, too.' Well, she wanted to be ready now. Her mind was her most valuable asset, she hated not being able to trust it.
'I'd hide that scroll in the deepest, darkest hole I could find if I were you,' Kattie said after a brief silence. 'But it's yours now. Do with it as you wish.' She walked away.
Hermione looked up, 'Katie.'
Katie turned around, questioningly.
'Thank you for this.'
Katie nodded. 'I owe you a life debt, Hermione, and despite everything that happened between us, I really like you. You were one of my best employees. You're clever and vicious, not afraid to bend the rules when it suits you, just the right combination to lead this department. So just … just be careful. I know you have quite a substantial sway over him through your bond. I saw that on the day he escaped and couldn't do all he wanted to. Just don't assume it'll keep you safe forever, especially when you clearly have no idea where he is.'
'I don't assume anything when my husband is concerned, Katie.'
Apart from having assumed he was actually dead. Damn it. To think I'd actually grieved over him. Asshat.
'Good,' Katie said, taking a hold of the doorknob. 'Make sure you come out on top, Granger. The world depends on it. I have fate in you.'
As the door shut behind Katie McGregor, Hermione rubbed her hands frantically through her hair.
No pressure then.
'How are you able to stay away from me?' she pondered out loud, rolling the scroll up and putting it back in the cardboard box before warding it quite heavily herself. 'How come I'm not feeling any need to go wherever the hell you are?'
This was a riddle she had to solve.
Fast.
Without anyone noticing what she was researching.
The Ministry had taken over Hermione's flat, keeping it occupied as a trainee Auror residence, so it couldn't be used by fans or haters alike for nefarious purposes. Luckily they were also picking up the tab of her new protective detail. She really didn't want to delve into Riddle's funds. She also found a nice new place to live, otherwise she would've had to move in with her parents, which wasn't a prospect she'd found appealing, despite their enthusiasm about becoming grandparents.
Fortunately, her new place of residence was right next to Harry and Ginny's house in the country. It was a tiny but charming cottage with a large garden in a small wizarding village, located next to a beautiful, crystal clear lake and glowing hills as far as the eye could see—a perfect place for children to grow up.
When the dust started to settle, and it became clear that no secret Voldemort followers were out there, aiming to get to her or her daughter for killing their Lord, they finally stopped having an Unspeakable detail trailing her every move. It was a huge relief. Having people watch you twenty-four/seven was incredibly privacy invasive, especially when they were your own damn employees, walking in on you buttnaked in the shower when you'd merely screamed from a damn spider that had dropped on your face.
Seriously, if it had been up to her, she would've got rid of them months ago, but Kingsley had insisted she'd wait until there was no more chatter on the usual channels. She had a feeling that her living next door to Harry and Ginny had helped ease him into allowing her to regain her freedom again. That, and the wards the Ministry had erected around both houses.
Hermione sat in the windowsill of her living room, looking out over the lake. She gripped her coffee mug tightly. It was the first time in many months that she finally was all alone and the world was quiet around her. All she heard were nature's soothing noises.
As usual, Rose was fast asleep in her cot. An exhausted Ginny with large bags under her eyes had at one time suggested to switch babies, so Hermione could take the continuously wailing Albus, and she'd have a proper night's rest. Even according to the experienced Molly Weasley, Rose was the easiest baby ever as she'd rocked the little one to sleep. Rose had a way of charming people. They'd come in, apprehensive at meeting the child of You-Know-Who, and within no time, they had her in their arms, babbling nonsensically at her and rejoicing in the baby's soft giggles and gurgles. Her black curls that framed her big blue eyes which curiously stared into the world had people fussing all over her.
Hermione was probably the only one who noted that Rose never cried.
Well, once of anger, when she'd crawled around the living room and hit her head against a door swinging open due to a gust of wind. Hermione was glad no one had been in the room to witness because all her doors had spontaneously vanished. It had caused quite a stir among the people assigned to protect her, and it had led to increased security for weeks on end.
She'd cast a heavy ward, stopping Rose from being able to do it again, but she wasn't entirely sure it would hold. It had caused quite a temper tantrum in the baby when the door remained where it was despite her efforts to make it disappear. Hermione could sense the strength of the dark magic whirling through the living room, and she feared if she could, so could others.
When doors remained a dark obsession to her daughter, Hermione did some research and found the right combination of spells to use in one of Riddle's books that she'd discreetly had been removing from his vault.
That day, Hermione'd picked up Rose and used magic to impart the wisdom into Rose on how doors worked, Rose's blue eyes looking ever so narrowly at the offending object while listening attentively to her mother's babbling. After that day Rose gave doors a wide berth as she crawled around. Hermione was just relieved she didn't have to worry going into winter without front- and backdoors. She was also relieved to be by themselves now, because Rose was undoubtedly going to have other outpours of magic. Hermione recalled her own quite clearly, but she didn't think Rose would get the same benefit of the doubt as she had been given.
It was odd, this silence—no one asking her any questions; no one asking for permission to use something in her house, not even any hushed whispers in the background.
Complete and utter silence.
She rolled the mug in her hands. She'd not been alone with her thoughts in ages. Harry and Ginny had been the last to leave, Ginny looking at her questioningly. If she so much had said a word, Ginny would've stayed, but despite feeling slightly unnerved at the prospect of being alone, she also cherished it. So she said she'd be fine, and they left.
The wind howled around the house, making one of the window shutters clap constantly against the side. She snapped her fingers to freeze the shutter in place. She'd not heard that noise ever before, even though it had been windy previously. She guessed it was hard to notice when there was so much ambient noise around you. She sipped her coffee, leaning against the window. She really was on her own now, with Rose.
Turning her wrist, she created a blue bell flame in her hand, shifting it around in all sorts of shapes. Rose loved it, making all kinds of happy cooing noises when she did that. Tom's magic had become a solid part of her now, no longer separating hers and his. It was just theirs. It didn't cost her any effort anymore to control it. It still pained her to realise that even though he wasn't there, he was still a part of her, just not the part she longed for. Not the part she needed the most. She was beginning to question whether the Ministry's scroll had malfunctioned due to possible interference with Moirae's magic. She'd researched that option and found a couple of other cases abroad where death dates failed to show on official scrolls until both parties had been deceased. She couldn't sense him anywhere, and she should be able to if he were alive and roaming the planet freely. She hadn't found a single clue of where he was hiding and how the hell he got away.
If he had.
Arse.
She looked at the sunlight setting in the water of the lake; her eyelids dropped, feeling heavy, and it all turned dark around her.
She woke soaking wet, lying flat on her back on wet cobblestones in some dingy, dark alley. It wasn't even raining, so why was she wet? How much time had passed? It was obviously night or early morning, but when? Shocked she sat up straight, looking back and forth, her wand immediately in hand, not daring to light the area in case she'd give away her location. Where was she? How come she still had a wand? What had they done to her? Where was Rose?
A couple of containers with some bags next to it stood along the wall opposite of her, next to a side access door. She cast a quick Homenum Revelio. Nobody was in the alley, though she did hear voices in the distance and kitchen noises from the building behind her. She scrambled to her feet, took a couple of steps and peeked through a small window. Two men were doing the dishes, while another came walking in and said,
'Has anyone seen Chef? He needs to okay these health and safety forms before we can ship out the meals to Azkaban.'
Azkaban?
Hermione stepped back in shock, her eyes widening when she caught sight of her reflection. Blood, her face was covered in blood and some beige gooey stuff! Her hand flew to the wetness on her back and came back red. A quick cast spell made it clear none of the blood was hers.
What on earth was going on? What was she doing here? How had she got here? What had she done?
She couldn't recall anything besides using their combined magic to play with some blue bell flames.
A waste of time and potential, she imagined him saying.
Her eyes fell on the dark shape next to the container she'd previously considered were only trash bags. Closing in slowly, her wand at the ready, she flicked it around. She stifled her gasp when between the bags a man dropped backward. That odd beige stuff she had on her face was bubbling from his nose and mouth—his eye sockets were empty, devoid of their eyeballs, and his tongue was attached to the huge kitchen knife stuck in his leg. If he'd wanted to scream for help, Hermione knew that would've made it impossible.
She whisked her wand. Her Recording Charm worked, meaning he had died very recently. Yet she could already see the edges of his mind darkening, making her aware she had to hurry before his brain had completely degraded to the point of nothingness as she went through his last memories. It wasn't pretty. He'd not died fast or without pain. He'd choked on chunky porridge, after someone had slashed out his tongue, eyes, and did quite a number with that knife on the rest of his body.
The person had also cast a Decaying Hex while the man was still alive, a most gruesome way to go—your insides literally turned to mush and rotted while you were breathing and conscious about what was happening. Briefly she experienced his pain and despair before his mind permanently turned black, indicating to her that was all she would learn. His mind had permanently shut down. Hermione rose, noticing from the state of the body that the Decaying Hex was progressing rapidly, consuming his body until nothing remained, but she also heard someone calling for 'Chef'.
Even though the dead man was naked, Hermione had a distinct feeling she was looking at Chef. She couldn't identify his attacker due to the first attack having blinded him and whoever it had been hadn't spoken a word. But there was an odd familiarity she couldn't place that made her step back, her eyes roaming the area.
This didn't look good. She traced her hand over her face and looked at the combination of blood and porridge. This really didn't look good.
What the fuck had happened?!
'CHEF!'
Hermione turned her head. The shout came from near the other backdoor. She had to move fast. That Decaying Hex would not consume the body on time before it would be found.
Only Fiendfyre would clean up this mess and leave no trace behind but ashes. Quickly, she pulled out the knife with the tongue attached and cast the roaring flames. Satisfied, she witnessed it roam the alley all around her, consuming everything in its path. She Apparated straight to her potions lab. Working as fast as she could, she matched the blood on her clothes to the DNA on the decaying tongue before using a Cleansing Charm on herself. A second later, and she would've been too late. Shocked, she stared at the ninety-nine point five percent match right before the sample disintegrated.
Why?
Why not, pet? Trust me, he had it coming.
The knife clattered to the floor when she heard his voice for the first time in a long time.
'Tom?'
Obviously.
'What? How? Are you—Get the fuck out of me!'
I'd love to but you're not exactly being cooperative, dear.
'You—you—'
Eloquent.
'You killed someone while in my body!'
I had enough of waiting.
'You left evidence at the scene,' she hissed.
Only because you wouldn't let me finish. Such a drab you are, Granger. Nice Fiendfyre by the way, much better than those boring blue bell flames you keep making. I'm telling you Rose likes Fiendfyre much better, too.
Hermione's eyes widened. 'You didn't.'
His laugh vibrated inside of her.
'You keep away from her.'
Oh, and pray tell, how are you going to enforce that?
'I—I—' she growled, pulling on her hair.
Exactly. Now be a good girl and go get my body.
'You don't know? They tossed you through the veil after cremating your body. I got a little bit of ashes in a sachet somewhere if you want that?'
You allowed them to cremate me? His growl was beyond terrifying.
'What was I supposed to do? They didn't want someone digging up your bones for obvious reasons, and I didn't know you needed it. Why didn't you speak to me when they planned your cremation?'
It was utterly silent. Hermione shifted nervously on her feet.
'Tom? Tom!'
Shut up, I need to think. The veil I had covered, but this complicates matters.
'Oooh, this does? This!' she shrieked slightly hysterically.
Enough with the noise already, Granger. I haven't had a day's worth of peace ever since I died.
'I'm so sorry my friends are inconveniencing you.'
As if the constant crowds haven't bugged you either.
She huffed, crossing her arms in front of her chest. 'You realise when you took over my body, you left Rose all by herself in an empty house.'
Got wards and an alert on her.
'Oh well, I suppose then your fatherly duty is done.'
And if anyone had dared enter this house with bad intentions, they would've disintegrated on the spot.
'Wards and alerts,' Hermione muttered under her breath, still irritated. She moved to the door.
The knife, Hermione.
She halted, flashing her wand behind her back and vanquishing the knife into nonbeing before stomping out of the lab and moving up the stairs to check on Rose who was clutching her pluche dragon to her chest, making prattling noises in her sleep.
See, fast asleep.
Hermione tiptoed out of there and softly closed the door.
'We're definitely going to need some ground rules,' she said, going back to her kitchen. 'First and foremost on my list: Not getting me arrested for murder.'
You wouldn't have got arrested if you'd just let me finish instead of turning all squeamish. I'm perfectly capable of covering my tracks.
Hermione interrupted him with a growl. 'I see I should've been more specific. No to killing people while in my body.'
Well, I don't think I can agree to that. He overrode the sputtering in her mind and continued, What if someone tries to murder you while I'm actively running the show? Am I just to—
'You know what I mean. Don't pretend to be this obtuse. It doesn't suit you.'
Fine. I don't want Longbottom here or anywhere else near you.
'Neville is a good friend of mine. You don't get to decide—'
He wants to be so much more than mere friends.
'You're being ridiculous.'
Now who's being obtuse?
'He's been my friend even before Harry and Ron were. I'm not—'
I don't know how long he's had a crush on you, but it's blatantly obvious. Or do you dare tell me he can hug you like Potter without our bond reacting?
'I don't care what our bond—'
Hah!
'—what our bond,' she repeated with emphasis, 'thinks about how he feels. It's not reciprocated, he respects that, and that's all that should matter to you.'
Is it now? he asked threateningly before his tone switched to delight and said, Maybe you should invite him over…?
Hermione frowned. What was he playing at?
Yes, I'd think I'd love to see what happens to him if I take off your clothes and have him attempt to—
'Don't you dare hurt Neville.'
But you see, wife, I can't, seeing you disgustingly care for him. However, it's not my fault if someone spends time with my wife and decides liberties could be taken upon her person to the extent that it would lead to more than a simple shock.
'You—You—'
I wonder if he would die immediately or just turn catatonic like his parents. I suppose it depends on how much he wants you. Wanna take that gamble with his life, Hermione? I sure hope you do.
'Fine, no Neville,' she hissed, 'but no trying to harm him through our bond if I run into him at the Ministry or anywhere else where it would be impossible for me to avoid him or downright suspicious if I were. I'm not interested romantically in Neville, so you have nothing to worry about.'
Okay.
She felt it completely unnecessary for him to exhibit such a triumphant emotion inside of her.
'My turn: No showing the Dark Arts to Rose.'
She is my daughter, too, Hermione.
'She's just a baby.'
Which is why it will come like second nature if she picks it up now.
'I don't want it to become her second nature.'
You'd prefer her to get overwhelmed?
'No, I'd prefer for her to have a normal childhood.'
A childhood revolving around denying an intricate part that is yours, sounds like good parenting, Mummy.
'You don't get to decide what is intricate to her nature.'
No, I don't need to. It's already there. You've seen it, too. Ignore it all you want, but it won't go away. If she doesn't learn control now, she'll do real damage by the time she goes to Hogwarts. And I don't mean deliberate fun damage, I mean the kind that will get her into serious trouble and possibly expelled.
'You're only using that word because you know how I feel about that.'
Expelled? he teased.
She could imagine the upward curve of his lip and the twinkling of his eyes he'd be sporting now if he'd stood right before her.
Whatever would make you think I'd use that word to manipulate you?
Hermione narrowed her eyes. If he'd been standing right in front of her, she'd been pummeling him to death right now.
She's my daughter, Hermione. She's going to need to learn control of her darker urges fast because every move she makes will be put under a magnifying glass.
'She's my daughter, too,' she said feebly—she'd been concerned about Rose's reactions and how they'd be perceived by the general public ever since she'd noticed how much Rose resembled not just her dad but also her.
Exactly. You're now making my point for me.
'Okay, but no torture or killing. No delight in the suffering of others.'
You're taking all the fun out of it.
'Take it or leave it.'
Oh, I'll take it. Next: I need—'
'Hey! It's my turn.'
No, it's mine. You didn't want her to learn the Dark Arts, simply turning around to my standpoint doesn't mean I lose my choice.
Hermione grumbled.
I need to be able to enact my vengeance.
'Oh no, absolutely not. You'll just have to wait.'
That's also part of my final demand. You're going to help me obtain my body—or a suitable body—back as soon as possible.
'Well, I want you out of mine, so that much is obvious. However,' she emphasised when he was about to clearly interrupt her. 'I'm not sacrificing another human being for your needs.'
Not even someone you'd hate?
'You think I want to be married to and look at a face I hate for the rest of my life?'
Well, I could always have you be reunited with your redheaded beau. What a fairytale ending that would be. We could close the chapter with an 'All is well'.
'You're not hurting Ron, Riddle.'
How about that Quidditch player you were so fond of?
'How do you even know about Krum?'
I'm sharing a brain, Granger, so many things I see up here. It's mighty—
'Wait! Are you the reason I'm forgetting things?'
When he didn't have an immediate reply, she growled, outraged, 'That's an absolute no to snooping in and fucking around with my mind!'
Spoilsport. Think of all the things I could do for you—to you?
'Riddle!'
Granger!
Hermione leaned down on the table, her head buried beneath her arms.
This situation was going to be impossible to bear.
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The Prisoner