Author's Note: So, I was going through the previous chapters, and I realized that I totally should have edited them a second time before posting them. But what's done is done. Anyway, here's the next chapter.

Chapter 4

It was perhaps of note that Hermione had always been the sort to consider only the worst possibilities when frightened enough. With that in mind, it came as no surprise that after thinking of several logical, slightly optimistic possibilities for Grayson's interest in her, she had dismissed them as preposterous.

After all, almost all members of the BHPD were as dirty as a cop could be. Hermione found herself incapable of even thinking that the number of times she'd been involved in crimes had resulted in her coming to the attention of one of the few members of the BHPD that was clean. Or that said clean-or as clean as a man who spends his spare time as a vigilante can be-cop was merely investigating her.

And so, despite being a truly horrible actress incapable of fooling even the most oblivious of toddlers, Hermione pretended to think her date with Grayson merely that, a date, rather than something more sinister. She didn't know if Grayson saw through her act, though she hoped him fooled. Hermione wasn't sure what Grayson would do if he knew she was onto him.

And so she found herself speaking to him truthfully-well, relatively truthfully-though she made sure to avoid all mentions of magic. It was, at this point, impossible to know what Grayson did and did not know. Hermione would rather not say something he knew untrue that might pique his interest.

"You've heard about that then," said Hermione, in response to his mention of her multitude of brushes with the law. "I imagine I've had to call nine-one-one so often that you have bets going."

At Grayson's blush, Hermione's eyes widened. "There really are bets?" she asked, aghast.

"There's a pool," admitted Grayson, looking as if any sudden movement on her part would cause him to flinch back. "I haven't placed any bets, I swear."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, then stopped herself. "I suppose it's to be expected. Wherever there's a group of males with the collective maturity level of a nine year old, betting abounds." She let out a small, sad laugh, lost in memories of her time at Hogwarts. "In school, the Weasley twins were our house-uh, dorm-bookies. One of my friends was on the House team and they always had dozens of bets going whenever he played."

Poor sweet, horrible, wonderful Fred. She'd forgotten just how much she'd missed him. He'd spent more of her fifth and his seventh year hounding her than anybody else. And Ron had… When he'd learned, Ron had reacted so awfully, though Fred had been dead nearly three years and Hermione's relationship with him ended four years before. And part of Hermione-that awful, selfish part of her that she only acknowledged when she was alone-wished that Ron had died during the Battle of Hogwarts rather than Fred.

Noticing that Grayson was saying something, Hermione cursed herself for loosing focus. For forgetting that Grayson was the enemy and she could not drop her guard in his presence.

"I-I'm sorry. The anniversary of Fred, uh, Fred Weasley's death is coming up."

"It's alright," insisted Grayson, looking suitably sympathetic. He then changed the subject. "Do you want desert?"

"No. I'm not all that hungry anymore." Thoughts of Fred and Ron's betrayal had stripped Hermione of what little appetite she had left.

The date had gone well. At least compared to their first meeting. Dick was certain that Ms. Granger still thought him a possible threat, but she had relaxed around him several times. He'd asked for, and received, Ms. Granger's phone number, though she'd made it clear that she was more than capable of walking herself home without his help despite how dangerous Bludhaven was.

Dick hadn't even attempted to kiss her. He was merely dating her to find out what she was doing to those men. And even if it had been what Dick considered a real date, Ms. Granger was too frightened of him for Dick to, in good conscience, make such a move so early on. Not to mention that she'd flinched every time he touched her, however accidental it was after the first-and last-attempt to take her hand. It would no doubt take quite a while to discover what he wanted to know.

As it was, he made a number of notes to himself. He would have to find out who Fred Weasley was. He had obviously been very important to Ms. Granger. He should also go over the police reports involving Ms. Granger again. Perhaps there was something he had missed, or something that, in light of new knowledge of her personality should be reinterpreted.

He considered asking Babs to do the research for him, but something stopped him. Though they'd taken to using Oracle to find out a good portion of the information they needed, Dick had yet to bring Ms. Granger to her attention. Everything he knew about her, he'd found out himself.

For the moment, this was a Bludhaven problem, not a Gotham problem. The last thing he wanted was to chance involving Gotham. He'd do the research himself.

Hermione blinked as Luna tilted her head to the side. She had to admit, even by her standards, this was strange.

"Did he just…?" asked Hermione.

Luna nodded. "I do believe they've hit the bottom of the barrel."

"Well, he was rather incompetent, wasn't he," admitted Hermione. "Do you want to call nine-one-one or should I?"

"I do believe that nice clerk has already made the call."

Luna motioned toward the angry looking clerk holding some form of shotgun. Hermione momentarily considered that perhaps she should learn more firearms. But her father and Uncle John had always made sure that she and Irene stayed as far from such things as possible.

"Well, we might as well sit down. It may take a while for the cops to arrive," said Hermione, her voice carrying to the shop clerk and the other two customers.

With that Hermione and Luna sat down in two of the chairs set out for customers. The clerk stared at them, as if wondering if they were insane, before turning to the hysterical customers on the other side of the store.

"I think we may need to find a new florist," added Hermione. "I rather doubt we'll be allowed in here again."

"We could always ask Neville. You know how much he and Hannah love plants and gardens."

"I suppose."

"At least we managed to order what we need."

"I still would have liked some more branches."

They fell silent as the sound of sirens reached their ears. It seemed that the cops had actually been able to arrive in a timely manner.

Only in Bludhaven would a florist have a gun. There were times when Dick wondered if he wasn't just fighting a loosing battle. It seemed to him that no matter what he did as a cop or as Nightwing, it barely made a dent.

Dick and his partner, Amy Rohrbach, had been sent to respond to the call about a florist shooting somebody in his store since they were the closest. The dispatcher hadn't been clear on the specifics, but it seemed that the florist had been protecting his customers. Doubtless the truth of the matter would be quite different.

Hermione watched as two cops entered the shop silently. Judging by the sound of new sirens, an ambulance was close behind.

Her eyes widened. "Dick?"

She certainly hadn't expected her probable assassin. The slight woman next to Grayson looked at her before turning back to her partner.

"Rookie?" asked the woman.

"Uh, Hermione and I are planning on going out on our second date on Friday," explained Dick. He then turned to Hermione. "Are you alright? Where did those bruises come from?"

Hermione motioned toward the dead wizard lying in the middle of the shop hesitantly. She didn't want to think about the fact that had not the shop clerk interfered, she would likely have suffered injuries far worse than a probable sprained wrist and more bruises than she'd had at any one time in months.

"Grayson," reminded the woman.

"So you and your friend were there to buy flowers," prompted Detective Miller

They'd gone over what had happened in the shop twice already. Hermione wasn't sure if this was because of how many times her name had come up in police reports, the apparent betting pool, or if detective Miller merely took his job seriously. Perhaps too seriously. She was the victim, not the criminal.

"For May Day. And we had just finished ordering the flowers when that man appeared," explained Hermione. "When I looked up from putting my wallet away he was there. He knocked Luna to the ground and I kicked him in… well, uh, between the legs."

What Hermione hadn't mentioned was that she'd used the distraction to wordlessly summon the man's wand. It had landed near Luna, who had promptly snapped it. Luckily the man was Wizarding. Most other branches of magic didn't use magical foci as anything other than a last resort or when completing incredibly difficult spells.

"He punched me in the stomach then grabbed my arm. He hit in the face a couple times, uh, I think. It's a bit fuzzy. I think I lost consciousness because the next thing I remember, I was on the floor and he was trying to choke me. Then I heard a loud noise and he collapsed. I didn't notice that he'd been shot until after I pushed him off me."

"After that?"

"Luna helped me stand and we went to sit down until the police came."

"You don't seem to be all that upset."

"Well crying and carrying on wouldn't have been of much use, now would it?"

"Thank you for your time, Ms. Granger. Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?" Miller actually seemed a bit concerned.

Hermione stood, then winced. Perhaps it would be a good idea. Though she tried not to go to a healer unless she was under a spell she could not fix or so direly injured that she risked death, Hermione had never had much of a problem with going to a non-magical doctor if she was truly in need. Hermione merely felt that non-magical doctors were much more reliable than magical ones, particularly when it came to non-magical injuries. Hermione had not thought her injuries all that serious when she'd declined the first offer. Now, however, her injuries felt far worse.

"Actually, a trip to the emergency room might be in order," admitted Hermione.

"Wait here, I'll find somebody to take you."

Hermione sat back down as Miller got up from his desk. She put her head in her hand, trying to ignore her rising nausea. Perhaps she had received a concussion after all.

"Hermione?" the voice was soft and hesitant.

She looked up, then winced at the pain such action caused. A wave of nausea passed over her. Hermione reminded herself not to do that again.

"Hullo Dick," said Hermione, instantly on guard.

"Miller said your interview was over. Amy and I are going to take you to the hospital, alright?"

"Amy?"

"My partner."

"Oh."

Surely Grayson would not be so arrogant as to harm her while in the presence of his partner. And even if he would do so, Miller knew where she was. Unless this was a conspiracy being perpetrated by the entire department. Even then, to kill her at this point would be incredibly foolhardy. Hermione rather doubted that they would be that stupid.

Dick helped Ms. Granger walk into the emergency room, noting how weak she seemed. This was too real for Dick to even consider it an act. She was still scared of him, of that Dick was sure. However it seemed that se had no intention to act on that fear. At least not this afternoon.

She leaned heavily on him, obviously having some difficulty staying upright. Ms. Granger was far too pale, and slightly green in color. He'd known that she'd received a head injury, but perhaps it was worse that first assumed.

"I'll stay with her if you…" Dick trailed off.

Amy nodded, her expression tight as she walked over to the desk.

Dick gently assisted Hermione into a chair.

"Do you have any way to get home from the hospital?" asked Dick.

"I-no. Penelope is my only friend with a car and she's… she's in New York City with her husband right now," said Ms. Granger. "I can-I can take the bus or a cab."

Dick shook his head, concern for her outweighing his opinion about just how dangerous Ms. Granger probably was. He ripped a piece of paper out of his notepad and then wrote down two separate phone numbers. Though he'd given her his number before, Dick doubted that she would be capable of remembering it without help.

"This is my home number and the number you can reach me at if I'm at work. If I'm at work, just ask them for Officer Grayson. My shift ends in half an hour. Call me when they release you. I'll take you home, alright?"

Hermione opened her mouth, the look on her face suggesting that she was about to object, then stopped herself. "Ok," she agreed.