Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than the story line . All rights belong to J.K. Rowling

Pain Beyond Measure is a Madman's Greatest Pleasure

She should have realized that she'd find him here. After five years of working together, coupled with seven years of being best friends before that, she knew him perhaps better than he knew himself.

She wished though, that he would stop with the self-abusive behavior. It always made her heart cry out to see him like this. Because she knew him so well she also knew that he wouldn't accept what she had to offer him, especially given the case that they were currently working.

He was sitting at the bar, nursing what appeared to be his second bottle of whiskey. It was always like this when he was in the middle of a particularly disturbing case. At the end of the day he would come here, to the local pub, in an attempt to drink his concerns into oblivion.

That he had demons that most never would experience was certainly true, she could admit that. When you added the tragedies that he had been forced to endure to what he went through on cases like these, well, she could understand why he came here. That didn't mean that she had to like it though.

Even given his now tremendous tolerance to alcoholic beverages, he was well on his way to been quite pissed. His head was down on the counter top, making it seem that he might have passed out. She knew better though. Even thoroughly wasted on the most virulent concoctions known to man, it would take more than two bottles of whiskey to make him unconscious.

She slid onto the bar stool next to him. "Want to talk about it?" she asked softly.

He looked over at her. His eyes were bloodshot and there were streaks down his cheeks. This was going to be a bad one then. Merlin knew that it was already a bad one for her. She wondered, not for the first time, what had possessed them to take these jobs after all the two of them had been through. Hadn't they suffered enough? Was it not enough to go through losing almost everyone they held dear?

He had patently refused to get close to anyone after it was all over. He would have run and squirreled himself away somewhere far away from the wizarding world if she had let him. He often mumbled about Alaska when he wasn't sober. She wondered if maybe they should have left everything behind and just gone away.

But it wouldn't have been him to do so. He had instead gone into law enforcement. It had been the only thing that he had wanted to do, and he decided to make a go of it. Of course, there was no-one that was going to turn him down if he came asking for a job, so he had his pick of the lot when it came to employment.

He had surprised everyone when he didn't go to the Ministry for a job. Instead he had gone to the International Confederation of Wizards and immediately he had become an agent for them. Of course she had gone along with him. Since she was considered almost as big a hero as he was, she had gotten a job right along with him. It was easy to be assigned as his partner, after all, they had already proven that they worked very well together.

So they spent the next five years tracking down killers and psychopaths. Whenever there was a case that the local agencies couldn't handle, they were called in. This was their first time back in England since the war and truthfully, it looked like it was going to be a very difficult time for him.

"Why did it have to be her?" he asked, breaking her out of her reverie. "Why the bloody fuck did the sick fucking bastard have to do that to her, of all people?" He slammed his shot glass down on the bar, sloshing whiskey over the top.

"I don't know," she whispered.

"She never did nuthin' to nobody," he stated, pointing a finger at her. "She was a good girl, never in any trouble, never making anyone mad…" He ran his fingers through his hair.

"You remember what she looked like that night, when was it?" He was counting on his fingers now.

"Christmas, fourth year," she replied as her voice threatened to break.

"Yeah, that was it… She wore that kind of… wrap around thingy… what the fuck is that called?"

"Sari," she answered. "Yes, I remember. She was beautiful, and she looked really good dancing with you."

"Yeah, she did." He sighed hard. "Oh 'Vati, what happened to you? Why did you have to go and get yourself killed?" He looked at her. "Why did it happen?" he asked again.

"I don't know Harry, but we're going to find out."

"But why would the sick fuck do that to her?" he asked. "I mean, what kind of sick fucker saws off a woman's ti…" She hit him with a silencing spell. Helping him up off the bar stool she led him out the door and apparated him to the flat that they had been put up in while they worked on this case.

When she let him speak again he was upset with her. "Why the bloody hell did you do that for?" he shouted.

"Because," she sighed, you were talking about the case, and anyone could here. Do you really think that Parvati would have wanted everyone to know what was done to her?"

"No," he conceded. He stopped dead in his tracks as thought of something. "Oh God, does Padma know?" He started rummaging through his things, patting his pockets down. She reached over and handed him a small vial. He nodded his thanks and pulled the stopper, downing the potion in one gulp. Smoke poured from his ears for a moment and he shook violently as the concoction did its job.

"She knows," Hermione whispered. "She's in the bedroom. She showed up just as I was leaving to find you. She's not doing well."

He waved his wand at himself and cleaned the stench and stains off of his robes. As quick breath freshening charm later and he was almost back to his old self. "We need to help her Hermione. We need to catch the killer before he strikes again. And," he added, "I have an idea where he's going to strike next…"

Author's Note: You never know where your muse is going to take you. I was writing on "Harry Potter's Army: A General's Lament" when this popped into my head and wouldn't get out. So here is installment number one. I'm a bad man... I'm a very bad man...