Author's Note: There is absolutely NO magic in this story.
Yes, this will be a Hermione Granger/Spencer Reid FanFiction.
The beginning of the story takes place during Season One of Criminal Minds.
For the purpose of this story, Hermione is 22 and Spencer is 24
Thank you all for your patience and your nice reviews! I appreciate the support.
(God this chapter was such a bitch to write)
Disclaimer: I do not own neither Harry Potter nor Criminal Minds. If I did, I'd be a whole lot richer.
Summary is from Criminal Minds season 2 episode 13 when Dr. Spencer Reid (tries to) define love.
Summary: It's hard to fall in love when you know that chemically, love involves surging brain elements called monoamines, dopamines, norepinephrine, serotonin, and phenylethylamine.
"Loves loves to love love"
-James Joyce, Ulysses
Ottery St. Catchpole, England
"The Burrow"
December 31, 2002
11:24 P.M.
Loud, raucous laughter could be heard from within the Weasley residence, mingling with the strong scent of whiskey and wine. Snow fell heavily from the sky and the wind blew unforgivingly harshly; however, one could not help but go outside and brave the conditions just to take a look at the stars- scattered thickly across the dark expanse of the sky, shining and twinkling. Even though the Burrow-and all its occupants- was enticingly inviting her into its familiar hearth, Hermione could not help but feel as if she did not belong. She walked slowly, so as not to disturb the pile of soft snow under her boots, and clutched the mug of eggnog she had brought outside with her, relishing its warmth.
The young woman softly hummed a jaunty little holiday song under her breath, lost in the loud shrieks of the wind.
She mindlessly brushed a tangled curl away from her face and set down the empty mug as she lied down on the ground, paying no mind to how cold and damp she felt, and looked up at the sky.
"3…2…1… HAPPY NEW YEAR!"
Hermione, who was curled up in the snow, shivering, continued to sleep peacefully.
No one bothered to look for her.
London, England
White Mulberries Café
February 12, 2003
3:06 P.M.
"Where's Harry?"
The bustling of the café drowned out the brunette's words as she twisted her body to look at the door, a group of teenagers blocked her view. She glanced at the man in front of her, eyebrow raised questioningly.
"Ahhh… See, he's not really invited." Ron bustled out, the tip of his ears turning red as he fidgeted with the end of his shirt.
"Not really invited? Ronald, he's –"
"I know, I know." He shot out, already sounding irritated. "But I- ahh bloody hell."
Hermione furrowed her brows and tilted her head, "What is it?" She did not bother to reprimand him for his language. After all, she was the one who taught him some of the more obscure words. Confucius said it himself; "You cannot open a book without learning something."
"Do you want to, um, you know…" He managed to blubber out.
"No, I really don't." Hermione replied, shaking her head frantically. "Oh dear God please no… Don't tell me he-"
"Go out with me." Ron breathed out before he frantically tried to correct himself. "I mean- go out with me… Please?"
Hermione's eyes were wide and her face was flushed with embarrassment.
"Aha…" She smiled weakly, pulling at the neck of her blouse. "When did it get so hot in here?"
She looked around madly, desperately praying for someone to come and save her from her friend's lecherous gaze and the ensuing awkwardness. Her skin crawled, and she felt wretched at the thought of doing… Anything with Ronald. Hermione crossed her fingers and wished for the ground to swallow her up.
"Where's a fucking earthquake when you need one?"
However, when she looked at her long-time friend's face- which was openly hopeful and expectant, eyes glittering brightly in happiness- she found that she couldn't bring herself to say no to him, no matter how palpable his wanton desire (for her!) thrummed in the air.
"Sure, Ron. Why not? Carpe diem and all that." Came out of her mouth next, paired with a haphazard wave of her hand.
"I knew you would say yes!" He intoned smugly, lips curved up in a self-satisfied grin. "After all, I am-"
What he was, Hermione didn't want to hear. Instead, she cut him off with a hasty "Yes, yes. This is a wonderful thing that's happening right now… You asking me out… Me saying yes to you asking me out…"
"Oh bloody buggering fuck what have I gotten myself into?"
"So," he stood up suddenly, an aura of self-assuredness surrounding him, "Valentine's day at Madam Puddifoot's? I'll pick you up at 7."
As Hermione watched him pick up his car keys and his jacket, she realized belatedly he was talking to her. "About the date…"
"Madam Puddifoot's? Ronald, you know how much I detest that tea shop. It's always too bloody frilly and it smells horrendous- like a factory for the perfume you put on corpses." She ranted angrily, glaring at him.
"Fine," Ron gritted out, glaring back at Hermione, tension crackling in between them. "Where do you want to go, your highness?"
Guilt immediately flooded Hermione's system. He had just asked her out, ON A DATE, and she was already arguing with him. Ignoring the petulant voice in her head that demanded she change the location of the date (or even cancel it), she apologized to Ron and assured him that yes, she would love to go with him to Madam Puddifoot's for Valentine's.
Before he left the café, he pulled on a lock of her hair and leant in close to her to whisper: "Wear something nice for me, eh, Hermione?" He pulled back with a sleazy grin and a raunchy wink before he strutted out the door, whistling merrily, leaving a disgusted Hermione staring after him with wide eyes.
"Fuck!"
All of the other customers shot her disgruntled looks at her outburst and she loudly apologized, clapping her hand over her mouth as she realized what she had said. Ignoring a yelp from one of the patrons, she quickly stood up from her chair and strode rapidly towards the door and out of the café, head bent down as she hid her grimace.
Quantico, Virginia
22 Owen Street, Stafford
September 14, 2005
8:47 A.M.
Upon noticing the multiple squad cars parked in front of Hermione Granger's home, Reid and Gideon hastened to approach the policewoman pacing on the pavement, a two-way radio clutched in her right hand. Gideon flashed her his FBI badge and signalled for Reid to do the same as he shook the woman's hand.
"I'm Agent Gideon, FBI. And this," he said, pointing at the younger man behind him, "is Dr. Reid."
The police officer glanced towards Reid with a raised eyebrow, but quickly turned her head back towards the older agent. The profilers were not at all surprised at the look of astonishment that appeared on the officer's face when she heard the young man be referred to as 'doctor', Reid was only 24 years old.
The genius swallowed down the wave of irritation that surged through him, unaware of the contemplative look he was receiving from the other agent.
"I'm Officer Frazier, thank you very much for coming to help us with this." Relief tinged her voice.
Gideon merely nodded before he strode towards the door, Dr. Reid and Officer Frazier not far behind. He put on a pair of latex gloves before grabbing the door handle, tossing the younger agent another pair and twisting the door knob.
"Have you found anything, yet?" He inquired, taking note of the multiple books strewn across every available surface of the room. He deftly picked one up from the burgundy couch, flipping it over to look at the title.
"Huh," he chuckled slightly and noticed that Reid, who had just entered the victim's house, was looking at the other titles with unabashed curiosity, humming in approval (and contentment) as he flipped from one cover to another. Gideon walked towards him and plunked 'Ulysses' by James Joyce in front of him, raising his eyebrows in amusement as Dr. Reid immediately start to peruse through its contents.
"We've found nothing but a few travel boxes and a big 'ol suitcase. She hasn't lived here long." Another officer replied, shaking his head and extending his hand towards Gideon. "Officer Riley, pleasure."
"Agent Gideon. That one over there is Dr. Reid." He looked around the room and went up the stairs, sharp eyes immediately scanning over the bare walls and several unfurnished rooms. The bedroom consisted of a queen-sized bed, white covers neatly tucked and pillows fluffed, a large wardrobe made of mahogany, and a large bookcase covering an entire wall filled with books of different sizes and genres. Reid, who was scrutinizing the shelf as if he wanted nothing more than to inspect the tomes that filled it, forced himself to look away and marched towards the immaculate bathroom.
"How long has she been living here, two months?" Gideon wondered aloud, peering inside the cardboard boxes and seeing that within it lay a few frames. He picked one up and saw that the photograph was of Hermione, Harry Potter, and Ronald Weasley, arms wrapped around each other as they stood in front of a stadium, grinning widely. He passed the frame Reid, who took the picture out of frame and studied the message scrawled at the back of it: "Hermione, Harry, & Ron. July 1994."
"Two months and yet, she hasn't taken any of her personal items out of the box, save for her clothes."
Reid continued his train of thought and added, "Some of the rooms here are still unfurnished yet her library's already been set up. A library, Gideon! And it's FILLED with books of different genres from different authors about different topics." Reid was barely able to contain his excitement, and he couldn't help but wish that they would be able to rescue Hermione Granger from her captor, alive and well.
He definitely wanted to peruse throughout her library, and maybe even pick at her brain a little. It would be impossible for him to do those things if she were dead.
Gideon quirked an eyebrow at him, but he ignored it.
"The other women were taken from their homes, yes? Yet there are no signs of struggle. Why is that?"
"Maybe…" Reid furrowed his brows in thought. "Maybe she did know him, personally. No, no. She definitely knew him personally, that's why she trusted him enough to get out of her own home and follow him to wherever he took her. Hermione's obviously very intelligent, based from her I.Q. score and the books she reads so she wouldn't have just followed her captor."
"The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them." Gideon intoned nonchalantly.
"Ernest Hemingway," said Reid, and tilted his head in consideration.
"We better meet up with the rest of the team, see what else they found." The older agent ordered as he went down the stairs and shook the officers' hands, Reid doing the same.
Quantico, Virginia
Behavioral Analysis Unit
September 6, 2005
1:36 P.M.
"The UnSub," Reid stated, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he faced the local police force. "Is a handsome, white male in his late twenties."
"Handsome? Why does he have to be-"
Hotch cut the officer off and answered, "Because all these women were very intelligent. They wouldn't have followed an unattractive male to wherever he took them."
"UnSub?" The same officer asked in confusion, continuously tapping on his notepad with a pen.
"Unknown Subject. That's what we call suspects in a criminal investigation."
"Our UnSub has a certain 'type' of women that he prefers- all of them 5'4" tall or shorter, curly brown hair, and highly intelligent. Their I.Q.'s ranging from 150-175."
"He also drives a neat, well-maintained, and expensive looking dark car like a black Ford, for example." Elle added, before nodding at the group in front of her to indicate that the BAU were finished with their briefing.
"I'll set up a press conference and release this UnSub's profile to the public." J.J. announced before she dashed out of the building, cellphone in hand.
The police force nodded back in unison and began to scatter throughout the building when they were interrupted by a fellow officer- Officer Jiles, if they were not mistaken- whose face was already turning into an unattractive shade of puce.
"So we're looking for a good-looking man in his late twenties who- what? Stalks short, smart girls with curly brown hair and drives a black Ford? How is this supposed to help us?" The aggravated police man seethed incredulously, not-quite glaring at the BAU- but close.
"Profiling is used to identify the perpetrator of a crime based on the manner in which the crime is committed, the evidence left behind, and sometimes the nature of the victim. By investigating the crime scene, we, as profilers, can make educated guesses as to various aspects of the UnSub; race, age, mental state, social standing, etc. This type of information can help us identify who the UnSub is and be able to catch them before they do any more harm. Capiche?" Reid ranted, raising his eyebrows at Officer Jiles before he spun on his heels and walked out of the room.
Morgan's eyes crinkled in amusement and he smirked slyly, commenting to Gideon: "Never knew Reid was one for dramatic exits."
Quantico, Virginia
Behavioral Analysis Unit
September 16, 2005
5:46 P.M.
"Agents? There's a Garcia on the line for you, says she has some information for the case."
Hotch nodded and approached the telephone. "Got it, thank you."
The officer tilted his head towards the BAU and scuttled away.
The team dashed towards the interrogation room, where a telephone was placed in the middle of the table. Gideon leant forward and pressed a button, putting the tech-analyst on speaker before he stepped back and waited for his team to settle.
"Please tell me you got something good for me, baby girl." Morgan pleaded, placing his hands on the piece of furniture.
"Depends." She replied, and the team could almost see the flirtatious smirk she had on her face.
"On what?"
"On how good of a span-"
"You're on speaker!" Morgan blurted out frantically, eyes wide as he surveyed the BAU members who were smiling or, in Reid's case, cringing.
"Ah… Yes, uhm…" Garcia blubbered, feeling the blood rush to her face. "Thank God no one can see me…"
Seeming to compose herself, she replied. "You know how all these women were taken from their homes, yes? Well, I just found out that the victims were all in the same place as our Ms. Granger before they were abducted from their homes."
Agent Greenaway narrowed her eyes and said carefully, "So all of these women were followed to their homes by the UnSub? Just because they looked like Hermione and were in the same place she was before they disappeared. Where-"
"The library." Gideon muttered. "The UnSub wasn't aware that the women he murdered were very intelligent or that their I.Q. levels were high, only that they frequented the library. Like-"
"Like Hermione…" Gideon nodded his assent.
The team took a second to digest this information.
"Why didn't the UnSub know where Hermione lived? If they knew each other, why couldn't he have just kidnapped her from her house?" This came from Morgan, and all the other agents nodded their heads in contemplation.
"It's because he didn't have access to that type of information! No one knew Hermione all that well here and I doubt anyone even knew that Granger was her surname, so the UnSub couldn't just ask and have someone point him to the direction of her home!" Reid gasped out excitedly, pacing back and forth.
"So this person knew her well enough to know that she frequented the library, but not well enough to know where she lives?" J.J. clarified.
Reid nodded in affirmation.
"Hello? Your Goddess of Knowledge is still on the line and has more wisdom to give you." Garcia ranted in slight exasperation.
"You do?"
"Hermione's last name isn't really 'Granger'."
The team froze upon hearing this and a tense, shocked silence hung over the room. From the other line, all Garcia could hear was the scraping of chairs as everyone clamored to get closer to the phone.
"She's adopted?"
"That she is. She was brought to Wool's Orphanage in London when she was a year old and was adopted by the Grangers when she was about three."
"Wh-what happened to her parents?"
"Uh, they died. Car crash, neither of the parents survived. But, get this," She reported quickly, "A little 5 year-old boy was found- alive- inside the car along with Hermione."
"A brother? You're saying she has a brother?" Morgan stressed, tapping his fingers on the table.
"Uhuh." Garcia affirmed cheerfully, tapping away on her keyboard.
"So this- maybe this brother of hers thinks he's protecting her by locking her up inside a room."
"Like a real-life Rapunzel." Morgan shook his head.
"Well, actually, in the original Brothers Grimm story of Rapunzel, her father agreed to give her to the enchantress because he stole some rampions from her garden, and not because-"
"Reid." Morgan interrupted the boy genius, eyeing him in amusement. "I know."
"Explains why there weren't any signs of sexual assault on the victims."
"What's her name, Garcia? Hermione's name, before she got adopted?" Hotch asked, already putting on his suit jacket and grabbing his keys as they waited for her reply.
"Give us the name and the location of the brother as well," this came from Gideon.
"Her brother moved to Quantico just two months ago, roughly a week after Hermione did. He's staying at the hotel on Jefferson Davis Highway, second floor, room 26."
"Garcia, name."
The team held their breath in anticipation and Reid fiddled with the strap on his messenger bag, all thoughts regarding Rapunzel buried deep in his mind.
"1 Mississippi…"
"2 Mississippi…"
"3 Mississi-"
"Diggory. Cedric Diggory."
Quantico, Virginia
September 11, 2005
10:02 P.M.
Hermione clutched the books tighter as she walked speedily down the stairs, huffing out a breath of frustration upon realizing that she could barely see anything outside. The young, bushy-haired woman fumbled slightly when she tried to insert the key into her car and swore when she almost dropped it, unaware of the man that was quickly making his way to her. A second later, Hermione grinned triumphantly as she slid into her car, dropping the books on the passenger seat, and started the ignition.
She shook herself when she felt the fatigue settle deep into her bones, causing her eyelids to droop and her body to slacken. Hermione blinked repetitively and drove out of the parking lot, heading towards her home as she increased the volume of the radio- for as long as she could remember, silent car rides always made her feel uneasy.
God. How she hated Fred and George for making her watch all those stupid, scary movies.
She smiled at the thought of the twins before a wave of loneliness took over, causing her breath to hitch and her hands to shake slightly. Hermione gripped the stirring wheel tighter, determined not to cry. She missed London. She missed her family, her friends, her old job, her house, her cat.
"Oh, Crooks…" She murmured, a sad smile on her face.
Her face hardened, however, at the thought of seeing Ronald and Lavender sucking each other's faces off. She was resolute in starting anew, and she'll be damned if she let herself wallow in self-pity while Lav-lav and Won-won get married and live happily ever after.
Hermione didn't love Ron like that, she never did. But after finding out that her boyfriend had been cheating on her with his ex (for a year!), she couldn't help but feel betrayed. "What he did was damn disrespectful and just fucking insulting."
She couldn't bear to show herself to her friends and her family after that. She finally cracked after a month of pitying glances and whispered gossip- so she fled.
And she was determined not to look back.
Quantico, Virginia
22 Owen Street, Stafford
11: 13 P.M.
The clock ticked ominously in the background as the young woman prepared to go to bed, tying her hair up and out of her face while she climbed up the stairs, a step creaking in protest. Even with the doors locked and the windows bolted shut, Hermione could not help but feel agitated and on edge, and she was absolutely positive that someone was following her. Eyes closed, she forced herself to relax.
"Breathe in…" Whoosh
"Breathe out." Haaaa
"Breathe in…" Whoosh
"Breathe out…" Haaaa
"Breathe in-"
"Hello, Hermione!"
Hermione turned so quickly she was afraid she might injure herself from a whiplash. She turned on the lamp beside her, heart pounding frantically beneath her chest. However, when she saw who it was, her posture relaxed and she even gave the visitor a blinding smile.
"Cedric!" She rushed towards him, hugging his middle. "How did you get in?"
The handsome young man winked roguishly and showed her his lock-picking kit. Hermione knew how mischievous he could be when he wanted.
"Wanted to surprise you. It's been so long!"
Hermione nodded in agreement. "Too long. How long has it been since we've last seen each other? Five years?"
"Four years and eight months, my dear." He replied matter-of-factly. His response made Hermione's eyes narrow imperceptibly and she casually took a step back, survival instincts kicking in. As if seeing her reaction, Cedric took a step closer.
"Too close. He's too close…"
"Why are you here, anyway? This is America, for God's sake did you get lost again?" She continued to joke with him.
Cedric just chuckled merrily and waved his hand. "I moved here a couple of months ago, had some unfinished- business- to attend to."
His eyes flashed towards her for a moment before he grinned at her again, charmingly. "Anyway, that's not what I came here for. Would you care to go out and have a couple of drinks with me?"
No matter how suspicious her friend was acting, she couldn't say no. After all, in a span of four years Cedric had to have changed somehow.
Right?
"I'd love to, let me just go get changed and grab my coat."
Hermione emerged from her room ten minutes later, clutching a beaded purse that contained some money, her phone, and a stun gun. It was not until she was safely fastened into his car that a question popped into her brain, causing her heartbeat to quicken.
"How did- how do you know where I live, Cedric?" She struggled to keep a pleasant smile on her face as she stammered over her words.
"I followed you, of course." This was said with the utmost sincerity. "And please, call me brother."
Time seemed to freeze for the young woman as the radio announcer loudly announced the name of the next song. It took a few moments for Hermione to collect herself as she licked her lips and asked:
"Brother?" Hermione unconsciously gripped her seatbelt, grasping for her purse to reach for her phone before she realized that Cedric had somehow taken hold of it, along with her stun gun.
"Cedric, Ced please let me go. Cedric-"She pleaded, trying to unfasten her seatbelt before a larger hand covered her own.
"I'm sorry. I'm afraid I can't do that, little sister." He shook his head sadly before he pulled over next to an empty park, grabbing something from the compartment in front of Hermione. Seeing her chance, she kneed him in the face, pushing him off of her as she unfastened her seatbelt and quickly opened the door. She fell out of the car, hands braced in front of her as she landed on the ground, but before she could make a run for it, Cedric grabbed her and injected something into the back of her lower leg.
"What-"
Hermione struggled to keep her eyes open as she kicked him, already feeling the effects of the drug as she lethargically crawled out of the car. She did not get farther than three feet before he grabbed her and tossed her over his shoulder, laying her gently on the backseat of his car.
The last words Hermione heard before she passed out were: "Got to keep you safe…"
"Think you're escaping and run into yourself. Longest way round is the shortest way home."
- James Joyce, Ulysses
Author's Note: Don't forget to review!
That little rant on criminal profiling from our favourite boy genius? You can find it on the Criminal Minds wiki on Criminal Profiling. Am I allowed to do that? Someone PLEASE tell me I'm allowed to do that.
I had to edit this chapter so. Many. Times. (Mostly because of plot holes, which is entirely my fault).
The lovin' will come soon, though probably not in the next two chapters because, well, Reid is Reid and Hermione is Hermione.
*Special thanks to apriljunemay for all those badass suggestions.*