Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, the characters or locations used in it, or the songs mentioned. But I do own this plot.

A:N:

I know some of you are rather confused about the plot but trust me when I say that it is going to come very soon. You are still in the rising action of the story. Give like two more chapters and you will be in the climax of what the true conflict is. Or maybe a hint on what the conflict is. But just like every story, you must read on to understand it. I promise you that you're not wasting your breath reading this story, I've had this plot in my head since I read the first Harry Potter book. Just please be a little more patient, ok.

Also, you need to remember this story takes place after the epilogue so there will be Hermione/Ron and Harry/Ginny moments for now but it will gradually change in the future. Just a little heads up there.

Anyways, enjoy!


Crimson and bare as I stand

Yours completely

Yours as we go over

Sing for the lion and lamb

Their hearts are hunting

Still hunts hope ever and ever

Ever

Cold; Aqualung ft. Lucy Schwartz


"The way I see it, every life is a pile of good things and bad things. The good things don't always soften the bad things, but vice versa the bad things don't always spoil the good things and make them unimportant."

- Vincent and the Doctor


Chapter Three: Scarred and Questions

The morning followed quickly than Hermione anticipated.

She had gotten home later than she expected that she would. As soon as she walked through the front door, she was ambushed by a worried Ron and a freshly wakened Hugo. She had to explain to Ron that she had accidentally wandered in her job later than she promised she would because of the piles of reports that came in and that she had went to pick up Hugo from Harry. She had passed his offer for dinner because she had already eaten at Harry's, hardly, but enough to not feel so famished for the night, and she was fatigued after a long stressful day. Ron was kind enough to suggest he'd tuck in Hugo, knowing that his methods would make him fall asleep quickly, and Hermione was more than gracious by that so that she could be able to hibernate away the remaining hours.

Unfortunately, Ron had gotten other plans for her after Hugo was asleep.

Hermione woke up rather sore and battered, forcefully by the incessant beeping of the alarm clock blasting beside her, and groaned inwardly as she reached over to press the snooze button. She stretched out her limbs, feelings her joint pop again like the night before, and then the comforter rustling around with her as she rolled onto her side. She squinted her eyes to look through the rising sunlight peering into her bedroom to see the motionless face of her husband, the back of her skull resting on his bicep. She was rather peeved that he had seduced her into bed knowing that she needed to wake up early for her shift and to take Hugo to school but seeing him sleep calmly as he is now, she decided it was worth it.

The warmth of his arms locked around her securely is something she would never get tired of. It is the only time in her life that makes her remember that the war is over; they are safe. The rumbles beneath his chest as he breathed evenly and the thumping sensation of his heart beating into her ear were a lullaby to her, an unknown song by him that she would forever listen to until her last breath. Then with his slightly parted lips laying gently on her forehead, his breath brushing over her hair so lazily was promising enough that this was all real. She wishes that she could lay here eternally away from the outside of her home and live as preciously as she slept in bed.

She thought back at her night with Harry; it was the first time in a while since she spent time with him. She had forgotten how simple it was to be with him and forget about her stresses with an easy conversation or laughter. She especially remembered the way he talked about her. It was completely unexpected of him to suddenly praise her yet it was uplifting to hear such positivity of her from him because lately she had felt like she has been doing everything wrong. She had made changes in the world that had helped many kinds of wizards or witches with their lives, specifically the magical creatures, but with the unfortunate reactions of the pure-bloods for her getting the Ministry to agree to lift pro-blood laws and with her blood status, she has been given such a cold air in her job. Being with Harry made her forget that as he is an employee of the government as well and he was able to have her concealed from the troubles that came with it.

Both Harry and Ron were her lifeline. Ron was her promise of life after war and Harry was her breach from reality after war. Ron was her picture of perfect present with a family and Harry was her bridge to utopia away from the struggles to provide their needs. She needs them now than they needed her before and she was content with that.

Wistfully, she must leave the bed now. She pushed herself up onto one elbow, her bushy curls drifting over her shoulder as she did and glanced at the alarm clock to see that it was already a minute past six. She did not clock in for work until seven-twenty and Hugo does not go in for school until seven-fifteen but she did not need to worry about him coming in late because it is Ron who usually drives him to lessons since he goes in at nine.

She felt Ron's fingers dig deeper into her waist and she glanced back at him to see his eyes tightened in disappointment. His hand, which had slipped downwards from her movement, came back up to her ribs and pressure was applied onto her side, trying to force her back down. She resisted his attempts, though it was difficult. She wanted nothing more than to just lie in the nest of his body heat as a curled fetus and never leave, but she knew how the Ministry is not tolerable with tardiness no matter the reason.

"I need to get going, honey," she whispered. A whine and another tug on her side was all she received. She could feel her will fading by the small pout and the frown between his scrunched brows but his eyes never opened – he was being childishly adorable.

"Stay," he muttered.

"I'm going to be late," she fought back although her voice was not firm like her words.

Ron's lips quirked up, smug. He knew he could keep her with him if he tempted her right.

But then the Rowle case flashed inside Hermione's mind. She regained herself against his touch as addictive as it was. She did not want to be caught by Kingsley in the corridors just hours or minutes after her normal clock in with her hair a tangled whirlwind and no explanation as to why she was late.

"Stay a little longer," he protested as he rolled to his side and buried his face into her arm while his other arm slung over her, the heavy weight nearly pulling her down with him.

Hermione smiled fondly at him even though he couldn't see it and used her free hand to tenderly comb her fingers through his untamed hair, smoothing down a few strands. "You know I'd love to stay but I can't." She lowered her head to press a lingering kiss on the exposed spot of the back of his bare shoulder before she ran her hand over the vertebrae of his spine. She smirked at the scattering shivers left behind by her touch and the light moan he muffled into her arm.

"You're going to stay longer if you keep doing that," he grumbled. She was taken off guard by his crude comment that she could prevent herself from bursting out in laughter and laid her head down on his back, her hair caressing between his shoulder blades as they fell over them, her lips lightly pressed to his skin.

"We spent all night rolling around in bed," she giggled. "And you want to go at it again?"

"Yes."

And then he unexpectedly pulled her down to the mattress, her hair flung over their pillows as she was swallowed in blankets and plush. Hermione felt the soft texture tickling her bare back. She gasped for breath, disconcerted by Ron's sudden actions, as she watched him sling one leg over her to straddle her by the waist and the muscles of his arms flex whilst he pinned her hands next to her head by her wrists. He smirked at the sight of her annoyed expression, noting every detail; her narrowed eyes, the crease formed between her brows as she furrowed them, her clenched jaw, and her gritted teeth. His eyes glided down from her face to her body, appraising how the outline of her figure is perfectly brought out by the silky fabric of her nightgown, loving the fact that the hem had ridden up during her struggle.

"Are you really in the mood to be such a child, Ronald?" she muttered under her breath.

Ron shook his head. "No." He bent his arms to bring his face closer to her until his nose rubbed against hers, his lips a few centimeters closer to hers. "I just want to appreciate what I have," he whispered huskily, his lips trailing on hers as he spoke.

Hermione surpassed a gasp. "I see. And couldn't it wait until after Hugo goes to school?"

"No. By the time he's gone so are you."

"Very true."

Ron bit his lips at the sudden change in her voice; the sultry, sensual tone suddenly leaking out of her words. And when he looked into her eyes, they were smoldered by a faded sin, the view leaving him breathless and the grip he has on her hands almost loosen by the sound but he managed to remain firm. He brought his head down to have their lips touching but he didn't apply pressure. He felt her hands shake in anticipation and he knew her walls were beginning to tumble down.

"Unfortunately," she began to speak and he was too focused on her fogged eyes that he nearly jumped when he felt the tip of her slippery tongue rub against his lower lip, the scorching heat coming from making him tremble above her. "I'm not exactly in the mood."

Ron held back a groan. "What can I do to apologize?"

Hermione sunk her head deeper into the pillow, forcing the contact between their faces to decrease to Ron's dismay, and then she formed a sinister smirk to creep on her face. "I can think of a few things," she murmured.

Then, Ron inhaled sharply as his vision blurred for a second and it got clear enough for him to see his wife straddling above him with her hands pressing his into the mattress, her hair leaning over his face like a curtain away from the gray light illuminating from outside the window, along with the same smirk carved on her face as she giggled in a cute manner that he could not resist.

"Now who's being childish?" he asked playfully with a raised brow. She giggled again. "I thought you're going-" His words were quickly drowned by urging kisses that were demanding enough to bruise his lips but he did not complain because he enjoyed the roughness that comes from Hermione whenever she suddenly becomes aroused.

As he returned those kisses down into small bites on her collarbone and breasts, he brought his tongue out to leave behind a trail of burning marks on her soft skin. These are the many pleasures he gets when it comes to having a woman like Hermione because she does not need to try to awaken the savage man hidden within him that she craves hungrily. It was natural for her to be wanting when being sensual with him and to this day, he is still surprise that someone as gentle and fragile such as Hermione can be rough and wild in the bedroom. She is still the same woman he's fallen in love with back in Hogwarts but the unexpected moments when her secret demon comes out to play still leaves him frozen in delight.

And only Ron was allowed to see it. Not Draco, Not Cormac, Not Viktor, Not Neville, Not Harry – nobody but him, her husband.

She has him shaking now; her hands caresses his torso down to his abdomen, her nails scratching over the tight skin she produced under her touches, and his feet tangled with hers curled their toes into the side of her legs as she tortures him unbelievably in wondrous ways that she knows about him, whispering promises of guaranteed beautiful sins she has imagined being done to him.

However, as soon as Hermione's fingers trailed on the elastic of Ron's lounge pants, popping them slightly on his hips, a tapping sound broke into the room, and Hermione immediately sprung away from Ron, making him let out an irritated groan. He tilted his head back as he laid an arm over his eyes, his hand clutched in a tight fist.

"What is it now?" he demanded.

Hermione walked towards the window, pulling down her nightgown. She peered out the glass to see a purely white snowy owl patiently perched on the sill with a rolled parchment tied to the leg and its large piercing yellow eyes expectantly staring at her. Its black beak opened whenever it let out a small squeak. Hermione unlocked the latch of the window and pushed it upwards, letting the owl to leap in inside the room then flutter over to the edge of the dresser nearby. She nearly laughed because she usually kept treats in the small drawer the owl is waiting upon.

"Hello Hedwig," she greeted as she approached the owl. "I'm assuming that's for me?"

The sparkling white owl just squeaked in response.

During the war, Harry had lost the first closest companion he had gotten before he met Ron or Hermione named Hedwig. She was a beautiful snowy white owl with big amber-yellow eyes and a small black beak, as similar as the one owl standing in front of Hermione right now. Hagrid had gotten her as a birthday present for Harry's eleventh birthday and she had grew up with Harry throughout his years in Hogwarts, sometimes falling out with him but always staying close to him nonetheless. Sadly, Hedwig had been murdered during the beginning of the war in an attempt to protect Harry and Hagrid from the Killing Curse appointed for them. She had never gotten a proper burial due to Harry needed to destroy the sidecar with Hedwig's body still inside.

Harry never got over the death of his precious pet – she was basically the small piece of family care he had never gotten when he was younger. It had taken Hermione and Ron nearly weeks to comfort him back into health at his loss but they knew they could not fill in that small void in his heart because they also were distraught by the sudden death of the friendly owl. She was the symbol of their lives despite their own pets; she was sacred and courageous just like their friendship. She could never be forgotten as long as they are alive then she still lives on within them. Her death was not in vain and they are proof of it.

Amazingly, a month after the war, Harry had discovered that Hedwig was pregnant at some time prior. When he went to clean out her cage, he found a lone egg being hatched within it and inside the egg was a healthy featherless bird completely exposed to the world. Hermione remembered seeing it the first time; she was there with Harry and Ginny to help him move his belongings to the Burrow. It was tiny with only a few feathers, the beak was fragile without the hardness of its shell, the skin was pale pink and felt soft when she had touched it with the tip of her finger, and it would make unbelievable loud yet charming chirps calling for its mother. They learned it was a girl sometime after its growth and Harry was overwhelmed at how identical she looked like Hedwig so he chose to name her after her mother, Hedwig ll.

That was when he knew that he never really lost his friend – she had left a part of her behind for him in case she did not survive.

Hermione carefully untied the ribbon from Hedwig's leg and unrolled the parchment. She stifled a gasp when she read the familiar scrawl of her best friend written on the sheet.

The Auror Department would like to grant permission to fellow counselor of the Wizengamot and member of the Regulations and Control of Magical Creatures Department, Hermione Jean Granger, to hold interrogation of current suspect/prisoner, Thorfinn Rowle. All material involved in interrogation is to not be monitored by anyone other than the person it is requested by and the officer present as escort. If information of interrogation is to be mentioned outside of session or given to another, an inspection will be given with a search warrant and a 30-day arrest will be ordered if evidence found.

Signed,

Harry J. Potter

Chief of the Auror Department

Ministry of Magic

"Thank you, Harry," Hermione whispered, her voice breathless in awe. She knew that he had promised a letter of approval from his part but a piece of her honestly thought that he would have been too busy to be able to write one and she understood if he didn't due to him being an enforcer of the law. Still, she was holding his promise in her hands and because of him, she was able to move forward with her case with possible answers to the truth.

Hedwig ll chirped impatiently, flapping her wings wildly to gain Hermione's attention, and her amber eyes pointedly staring at her.

"Alright, alright," Hermione chuckled. She placed the letter on the dresser next to Hedwig before she pulled open the drawer beneath the bird and rummaged through the small envelopes, tiny boxes filled with coins, and miniature sizes of family pictures until she found the beanie bag below the materials. She had casted the Undetectable Extension Charm just to hold the owl treats she'd buy for any post owls she'd receive.

Hermione reached a hand inside and pulled out an owl treat, which Hedwig had greedily snatched from her fingers, almost nipping her. Then she scratched a finger between Hedwig's feather, the young owl chirping happily at the gesture as she jerked her head towards Hermione's finger affectionately.

"You're a lot like your mother," Hermione said kindly at the owl. She got another cheerful chirp instead. "Alright, you need to get going now. Give Harry a nip for me, okay."

Hedwig's head twitched before she flapped her wings and then flew out of the window. Hermione returned to the bed where Ron was beginning to doze off until she hopped onto him, causing him to grunt and her to giggle as she straddled his by the waist once again.

"What was that about?" he asked instantly with his eyes closed as he lazily placed his hands on her thighs, rubbing his fingers over the supple skin.

"A letter from Harry," she responded casually.

"About?"

"Just a promise he made for me. Nothing big."

Ron hummed. He lifted his hands up to rub over his face, wipe away the grogginess from his eyes, before he settled them back on her thigh and sat up, shimming back to lean his back against the headboard. His hair was chaotic; the locks were disarrayed over his forehead and puffed out comically. His nose was red dotted and his cheeks were peached from sleep. His lips were swollen and bruised from her demanding kisses but they were curled in a smile more profound than the color.

"A promise for what?" he wondered.

Hermione took his hands from her thighs and laced their fingers together, carelessly swinging them to the sides. "I needed an approval letter from him to interrogate a suspect and he said he'd send me one by today. I just got it."

"Why you need to interrogate Rowle?" Ron raised an eyebrow. "I thought you had him."

Hermione groaned inwardly. "I don't want to explain it right now," she said. "For now, I just want to…" she trailed off as she leaned forth to caress her inflamed lips with his battered ones in a gentle kiss, their fleshes molding together perfectly in contact. Then she leaned back a bit, their noses rubbing against each other and their lips brushing over the other as their breaths mingled bashfully. "I just want to finish what we started earlier."

Awaken fully by this, Ron smirked at her. "I couldn't agree more. But aren't you worried that Hugo-"

Hermione quietly hushed him by pressing a finger to his lips, grinning at him seductively through the glimmer that twinkling in her eyes, before she lunged forward to advance on her ministrations on him as she slides her hands up to tangle her fingers with his uncontrolled hair, gripping on them by their roots to pull him close to her.

Ron moaned in delight by her roughness and shifted his weight to be able to roll them around until he was hovering over her, his body settled between her legs with their pelvises connected intimately, as he marveled the lines of her curves downwards. He reached one hand behind him to blindly grip on edge of the comforter and then flung it over them, concealing them into a ball where they can enjoy pure bliss and ecstasy.


Harry did not want to leave his bed that morning. He was not tired but he did not feel productive either. He just wanted to be wrapped in the heat of the duvet and buried his head in the softness of his pillows while falling away into a rumbling snore. He hadn't slept for over half the night. He did not go to sleep until three in the morning because he had busied himself as soon as he tucked in Lily and ate dinner with Ginny. She had fell unconscious once she felt the bed and he was left to wandering the remaining night alone in his study with piles of reports along with finishing his approval letter for Hermione. When he went to bed, he had a good three hours of sleep before he woke up to send Hedwig to Hermione to give her his letter like he promised.

For some unfathomable reason, every little sound that bumped in the night would make him think that it was someone knocking on the front door. It caused him to constantly get up from bed and walk downstairs to stare out the little peephole only to find an empty doorstep. He blamed his instincts for making him paranoid.

At first, Harry wondered what motivated him to snap his eyes so early aside from sending Hermione the letter or what would have his brain to restart again, he just knew that he could hear the soft pattering of feet walking across the floor and light muttering. Ginny was awake. He rolled to his side and reached over to his nightstand for his clock, tilting it down slightly to see through the blurred vision of his eyes that the time read six-twenty-one in the morning. Too early for him to be up. He does not go in until seven. He let go of the clock and moved back into his stomach, his face hidden in the plush of his pillows.

The mattress sunk low beside him and a hand was shaking him behind his shoulder.

"Time to wake up, sweetheart," Ginny said.

Harry just groaned.

"Come on, you need to take Lily to school today," she reminded. "I need to go finish an article and go to for an interview with the Canons."

Harry rolled onto his back with a grunt, his arms splayed wide across the bed. "That's your fourth interview this month," he muttered.

"It's a busy season," she answered bluntly. She gave his stomach a quick pat before she rose up from the bed. "Chivvy along or Lily will be late and so will you."

Harry blindly stretched his hand out to her to capture her by her elbow and tugged her down, forcing her to sat back on the bed again. She looked classic in her attire for the day; a navy blue east coast coworker dress with a removable thin belt around her curves, a silver necklace with a teardrop pendant, a pair of matching stud earrings, and a geometria ring on her right hand while her wedding band was surrounding her left ring finger where it rightfully should. The black pumps she wore gave her legs a definite glow.

She was an outstanding woman. A beautiful human being. And he is a lucky man to be the one to marry her.

"Harry, I don't have time for this," she sighed. "I really need to get going."

Wordlessly, Harry sat up and raised his face to hers, sliding his nose along her jawline as he came up to the lobe of her ear. His breath was quivering though it still tickled Ginny, causing her to squirm under the sensation, and then he angled his head up to her ear, lightly nibbling the shell as he wrapped a hand around her stomach. She was frozen in place by the contact of his affections.

He slowly managed to lower her onto him, her elbow digging into his rib and the other holding her up by his head, as he trailed his nibbling teeth down to the side of her throat, his hand gliding up from her side to the middle of her back to press her closer to him. He can feel the dip of her lower back make an arch as she moved closer to him, her breasts squished into his chest by the pressure of her applied weight, and then his hand traveled up to the nape of her neck where he gentle gripped the hair there. He retrieved a whiny moan from this.

However, Ginny was able to regain her composure from their close proximity and pull herself away from his wanton lips but she never left the bed. She gazed up at him in wonder. It was never unique of him to be so lovable and cuddlesome to her but she could never get used to the fact that she is getting it from the man she had worshipped ever since she was ten. It amazes her to see how incredible he has gotten from that rookie wizard into the successful Auror he grown into. She did not become fond of his choice of career, especially when it always brought him back to the ghosts of his past, but mainly because she would be left to worry on those nights when he is away on a mission and she would be sharing her bed with her children while constantly wondering if he was surviving against the nasty criminals capable of doing more than just harming him. It stressed her and it scared her kids but she still supported him because he was free to make his choices. She just wished that he hadn't chosen a profession that brought him home bruised or scarred.

Ginny swallowed sharply when she looked at the faint, white lines on his arms – scars she knew he had gotten from his previous missions. They could not heal properly even with potions. She brought the arms to her lips to kiss. She had been in that place with him – she had suffered too much in battle also and she still have some wounds that would probably never heal – but her heart would always break for him. She cannot imagine being that painfully strong, that exerted, to be marked like he is. She continued her path along his arm, across faint scars that seemed to bear witness to a multitude of childhood accidents mixed with rough fights; he must have gotten it from the times his cousin, Dudley, had bullied him physically with his friends. She can feel him tense under her kisses but she did not stop until she reached the needle point of his elbow, her thumb running over the crooked lines of his scars.

She laid her forehead on his shoulder, her hands sliding together to rest on his torso as she breathed him in.

Harry moved so that she was flipped onto the bed. This time, he was the one to sit on her thighs, his weight pressured on the side of her legs so that her delicate frame would not be crushed under his heftier one. He ran his hands over the bare skin of her arms from her shoulders to the tip of her fingers.

Ginny held her breath as he traced along the scars that were still visible, barely but still there. There are several; another haphazard of the life they once lived. His calloused fingers danced across her pale skin, picking out the silver lines. He tenderly trailed each one and tried to let her know that they make her seem more beautiful to his eyes by his touch as he felt hers. She would shiver as he tickled along the exposed area of her collarbone. He can feel the thin pattern of lines invisibly marked there and he wondered what she went through to get these scars when she was stuck in Hogwarts and he was on the road for the Horcruxes. She looked like a soldier who fought brutally in war desperately for survival.

He remembered the bruises and blackened he saw on her a week after the war. The urge to protect her and heal her bubbled inside him in heights he never reached before. Ginny was his girl to protect. It was maddening to think someone would hurt her, a person who did not try to do anything but the right in the world for him.

He lowered himself to bring her up in his arms. He could feel her steady heartbeat as her calm breaths made his arm rise and fall. Harry sighed and tilted his head to press his cheek against the crown of her head as he embraced her tightly, fluttering his eyes closed in peace.

"You still need to go to work, darling," she pointed out teasingly.

Harry bursts out laughing; his plan to distract her had failed miserably.

Ginny playfully pushed him off her and swung out of the bed as she straighten out the wrinkles of her bed and patted down her hair neatly.

"Get up already, you lazy bum," she said jokingly. "By the way, have you seen my house keys?"

"They're in the dining room where you left them last night," Harry grumbled.

Ginny immediately darted out of the room in a complete fluster and Harry was left alone in his thoughts.

His mind wandered back to his time with Hermione; she was unusual. Throughout the years he has known her, she had never seemed so unordinary to him even when she was secretly coming up with ideas by herself. But last night, she was definition of oddity. She looked almost regretful that she gave up a life of mischief and adventure for meetings with the law enforcement and fighting for the rights she believed magical creatures deserved yet she was calm to have it. He figured perhaps it was her stress talking to him – she can sometimes be irrational when she overworked herself too. Or maybe it was the leave of her first born taking a toll on her and last night was her new way of coping with it. He would never know.

He was honestly glad that she still confided in him in spite of the small rift that had wedged between them. Their friendship never changed and it amazed him how so. He would still keep in contact with some of his old roommates and classmates to see how their lives have progressed into and he was fairly surprised that those who were close are no more. He came to learn that not all friends are meant to last long like he did with his but he was still curious at how they all managed to be together when they are not as close as they used to be daily. It could be because their only younglings go to the same school together or that he and Hermione work in the same career choice.

He was close to Hermione still because of that but Ron's presence seems to dwindle in his life and he wondered why. His best friend does have a difficult job that includes incomes, taxes, and a sharp supply and demand but Harry never understood why Ron does not visit him on his day-offs. Maybe he was trying to spend as much time with Rose before the day of departure and right now he is also accepting the fact that she has gone without him just like Hermione. Harry can believe that – he went through the same phase with James. He saw how Ron was protective and worrisome over Rose during their visits; he can see the love of a father always radiating off him with every call of her name or holding of her hand. She was his little princess like Lily was to Harry and now she was off in a world to grow up in a ruling queen to take over the king's throne. It was heartbreaking.

Harry sighed. Where did the time go?

A light tap nearby brought him out of his reverie and he shot up in time to see a Scops owl lightly land on the chair beside his window, its nails clutched into the armrest. It held and envelope in its beak, the squared paper sealed by a red wax with the seal of the Potter family stamped in. It was a letter from his son, Albus.

"Hey Pirate!" he laughed at the name his son had given to the owl. Albus had gotten the idea from a television program he used to watch in his infant years called Jake and the Neverland Pirates. He had been a fan of Peter Pan as it was the main reason why he had loved magic before he discovered he was a wizard.

Harry reached to the drawer of his nightstand and pulled out the plastic bag of owl treats he usually kept for Hedwig since he hardly got any posts from others then he went for his glasses to put them on. He rolled out of his bed and approached the patient bird to take the envelope or mostly to forcibly yank it out of Pirate's grip because the owl was still a bit judgmental of his new family. He dipped his finger fellow the wax and unfolded the parchment, greeted by the recognizable handwriting of his second child. He smiled merrily as he read the letter.

Dear Mum and Dad,

Everything is going fine over here. Hogwart is amazing! I absolutely love it. I got to meet Hagrid finally – he's the first friend I made out here. Lessons were unbelievable. I was able to turn Pirate in a cup in Transfiguration yesterday but he didn't like it – he's been a grump lately so be careful if he tries to nip you. Flying lessons weren't easy with Madam Hooch – she's a bit strict one – but luckily I had those tips from James and you so I was able to pass the first exam.

By the way, if you get a letter from Professor Flitwick, I swear it was an accident! I didn't mean to charm the bird in front of me! The food here is delicious but I miss your cooking, nothing beats it. Hagrid showed me a Hippogriff called Buckbeak – the one you told me about one time - and I got to fly on it! It's a lot more amazing than you said it was. James made it in the Quidditch team again and they're going against Hufflepuff tomorrow. Oh, I forgot to mention, I made it in Gryffindor! I was close to going into Ravenclaw but the Sorting Hat put me there instead. Rose got in Slytherin, though. And with Scorpius, too. I don't know how Uncle and Auntie are going to react to that. My dorm mates are okay, a bit rowdy and drive me batty sometimes but they're not boring so I guess it's not all bad.

Well, that's all I can tell for now. I'll send you another letter. I got loads more to tell you about my first day. I'll try to owl you before curfew.

Love,

Albus

P.S I reckon you feed Pirate as soon as possible. He's a bit sour with me still.

Harry folded the letter back into a square before he took one owl treat from the plastic bag and fed it to Pirate, avoiding the plucking of his beak to reach his fingertips. Then Pirate soared out of the bedroom and into the air.

"Harry, I'm leaving now!" Ginny's voice hollered from downstairs. "Make sure to get Lily to school on time!"

Harry wanted to tell Ginny about Albus' letter; he wanted her to know that their son was having a tremendous time at Hogwarts, that he had lived through his first day as a new wizard with such pride. But he heard a slamming of wood of the front door and he knew that she had already apparated away as soon as she stepped outside.

He sighed dejectedly. She never got to learn about her son's first day of school.


Thursday was not possible to have the interrogation is what they said to her as soon as she punched in. Apparently, Thorfinn Rowle had a scheduled meeting with his attorney, Olivia Mark, and Hermione knew that it was to discuss about the case, to prepare themselves for every possible angle she might point at them.

Olivia Mark is a successful counselor of the Ministry and the youngest aside from Hermione. She was easily recognized for the seven court cases she won through the year but in the defendant's side – she was a wall to her clients. She had gotten thefts, muggers, and robbers to be proven innocent of their crimes with the little evidence she held and the charm of her words were persuasive to convince the counselors to decide on letting them go although they end up returning to the Wizengamot a couple months later for performing another violation to the law. That was before Hermione was appointed the position with the same power as Olivia and she never met Hermione's raging arguments until November comes around.

Hermione did not approve of the decline of her request and to be accepted on this day so abruptly. She did not like to be rushed but then again, she had been the one to continue her morning activities with Ron even though she was the one who had protested in the beginning and let herself go for too long until her clock had buzzed that she had half an hour to come to work on time. She was pleased that she did make it before the clock struck seven-twenty and later she found herself waving at Gerald, who was approaching her from down the corridor to the break room she had just exited.

"Hey Hermy," he greeted as she ran her fingers through her hair, trying to comb down her unkempt curls, and readjusted her brown belt of her pale peach chiffon blouse around her waist, tightening it.

"Hey Gerald," she flashed him a quick smile.

They began to walk down the hallways; the heels of her wedges clacking over the smooth stone floor and the flat base of his polished white shoes were tramping along with the rhythm of her feet pattern, as she continued to try to fix her appearance. She had picked the first pair of dark skinny jeans she spotted in her closet and almost forgot to put on her wedding ring on her way out of the house if Ron hadn't reminded her of it. Her hair was a whirlwind of tangled knots that she was considering of just pulling it back into a bun.

"You look like you just got out of bed," Gerald commented cheekily.

"That's because I just did," Hermione answered as she reached inside her black purse for a white rubber band and began to brush her hair back, twisting it around behind her head before she tied the rubber around it.

"Rough night?"

"You could say that."

Gerald smirked. He had spotted the barely noticeable glow of her skin radiating a mile away, the slight wrinkles in her disheveled, and the tangled balls of knots buried in her hair. She could not fool him even if she tried.

"Was it good?" he asked with a sly grin.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"The sex," he stated bluntly. "Was it good?"

Hermione's cheeks blazed in burning crimson red as her eyes widen in astonishment, her iris seem to have expanded also, and her mouth snapped open in complete awe. She thought she had covered her signs of sexual intercourse by the quick shower and the thousand sprays of perfumes she added on before she dressed up but unluckily, she was still obvious of her pleasurable morning with Ron to Gerald.

She loved him; he was the first gay friend she made in her life and she was happy to be close friends with a guy that her husband has no worries of growing any attachments to her so she had spent several hours together with Gerald as the older brother she never had. But unfortunately, it came with privileges of an older sibling such as teasing her and constantly mocking her. Others were surprised that Hermione hadn't fired him for his arrogance but those who knew them understood their relationship very well.

Hermione did the only thing that she could think of and shoved her elbow in his ribs.

"She's as abusive as she's rough in the sack, too," Gerald gasped, the coy smirk never wiping off his face, as he rubbed the now aching part she just damaged.

"Sod off, you manky twit."

"Oh, she's good with words too. Ron is a lucky muppet."

"Piss off, Gerald," Hermione rolled her eyes, however, a genuine smile had broken out on her face during their tirade. She could not deny that he was fairly good at taking out the child within her and she loved him for that. "Anyway, I've heard about the arrangement. Thanks for trying to set it up."

Gerald scoffed. "If it weren't for that slag setting up an appointment with Rowle, you would have gotten him this Thursday. Do you even know what you're going to ask him?"

"Loads," Hermione grinned slyly. "I might even get him to confess under pressure. You know how strong I can be when asking questions."

"You can say that again," Gerald chuckled. Then he looked at her seriously. "But be careful, though. The git is a dodgy one. He managed to convince the counselors his sorry excuse of a story so he's very good with words."

"I never believed a single word he said in the Wizengamot and I doubt I will now," Hermione replied heavily, a scowl scrunching up on her face as she crossed her arms. "Imperius Curse? Bah." She shook her head disapprovingly.

Gerald laughed at her distaste to the suspect as they rounded the corner of the corridors. While passing by an open cubicle filled with receptionists, they all whispered and giggled bubbly as they stared at Gerald, captured in an impressed trance, but they would scowl at Hermione. She chuckled to herself at their unreasonable pettiness. Everybody knew that she was married and she never made signs that showed her having interests in Gerald yet still they are people ignorant enough to believe in the latter side of their friendship.

When they reached the halls where the interrogation room is held in, Hermione's eyebrows flew upward at the sight of a familiar dark hair man wearing a long gray coat that reached to the ankles standing upright next to the door. He has a dark red armband wrapped around his upper arm with the crest of the Auror Department embedded into the band. He was wearing a pair of thin round framed glasses, a gray button-up shirt with the first two undone and revealing the white undershirt, and a pair of black trousers.

As they neared the person, Hermione's slowly stretched out into a wide grin once she got a clear view of his face.

"Well, this is quite a surprise," she gasped humorlessly, crossing her arms. "Especially from you."

Startled, Harry lifted his eyes up to find a casually dressed Hermione Granger standing in front of him. The dim light of the lit candles floating overhead made her face glow warm and her stare was lightened into an amber color hidden in the depths of her eyes. Her arms were folded over her chest and a brow of amusement was arched while her lips curled into a pleased grin.

"Counselor Granger," he smirked.

Hermione was taken aback by his form of greeting but quickly regained her composure and nodded at him politely. "Chief Potter."

Harry hid his arms behind his back and gave her a respectful bow. "I'll be your escort for today's interrogation."

"Seriously?" Hermione laughed.

Harry blinked. "Well, yeah. It's protocol to have an officer present for these things."

Hermione shook her head. "No, I mean," she stopped for a moment to let out a giggle. "Is it really necessary to be so formal? Come on, Harry, it's me."

Harry grinned sheepishly as he scratched the top of his head. "Just following procedure. Wouldn't seem right if the chief can't follow his own rules, you know?" he shrugged. "But was it really necessary to embarrass me like that? I have an image to keep for authority reasons, too."

Hermione looked at him meekly. "Sorry."

Beside her, Gerald clicked his tongue at her. "Always ruining a man's ego, I see."

"Shut it."

Gerald laughed and clapped his hand, rubbing his palms together as he inhaled deeply. He peered at Harry for a second, appraising the vibe worn over his posture, his eyes appreciative of the sight, before he turned to Hermione.

"Well, I need to get going – got a meeting with the Magical Transportation Department," he announced. "Something about underage wizards and witches caught doing apparation without a parental supervision. Got to make sure Twycross doesn't chew their heads off."

"Good luck."

Then Gerald leaned down to Hermione's height level, his lips brushing over the shell of her ear as he softly whispered "You're one lucky scrubber to be best mates with someone as handsome like Harry and to be married to Ron. You're the most envious woman in the world."

Hermione never paid attention to trivial things such as public envy of her close friendship with the most worshiped and desired man to the female population or her marriage with her easily attractive husband. She knew that she has irreplaceable relations with both men that she cherished strongly and there are many women who wished to be in her position right now only to be smothered by their physical appearances. She found those types of women a sorry excuse of her species. The fact that the two most important men – aside from her son and her two nephews – in her life also value her as equally as she does to them all these years made her very happy.

So, feeling another pang of elation flood up within her, Hermione just elbowed Gerald in the ribs again.

"Ow…" Gerald winced as he rubbed his sore ribcage and gave send a glare to Hermione, who was smirking at him snidely. "I'm leaving now before I end up with more than one broken rib from you," he muttered.

"That's probably for the best," she said sickly sweet.

"Good luck with this bint, Chief Potter," Gerald warned facetiously.

Harry laughed. "I will."

Then Gerald walked backwards down the hall, holding up one hand with his finger standing tall towards Hermione's way as he grinned at her scowl in return, before he whirled around and disappeared at the corner.

"How did you not fire him yet?" Harry wondered.

Hermione shrugged nonchalantly. "I ask myself the same question."

Scratching the back of his head, Harry looked at her with a smile. He was happy to be able to see Hermione again; he had thought back at their night together continuously during his sorting of reports. He did not think he'd have the chance to see her or speak with her like they did before because her frequent visits have dialed down as her work schedule overloaded and his also as time passed by. But for him to capture another opportunity to have contact with her once more was refreshing and exhilarating at the same time. It was scarce of them being together nowadays.

Hermione pointed her curious eyes at him. "So, why have you graciously volunteered to be my escort? Don't you need to worry about your Death Eater cases?"

"I'm here because of those cases," Harry answered quickly. "Rowle was a Death Eater so he must know the whereabouts of some of the others. If I'm lucky, he could tell me the locations Yaxley and Jugson always go to – mostly Yaxley. With Jugson, I'm confident that Proudfoot will find him in no time. It's Yaxley I have my eyes on."

Hermione sighed. "So it's your interrogation as much it's mine?"

"Yes. So we should get going before our hour is up. One of my officers got a suspect in custody and they need to question her as soon as possible."

While he was saying this, Harry had turned to the door. He had just closed his palm around the cold metal when Hermione took his other arm in her hand and pulled him back to her, hauling him to look at her.

"Harry, I never asked," she said. "But why are you so desperate to capture Yaxley? Is it because of what he did to Ron?"

"Yes," Harry said briskly, his voice firm and steady as well as his eyes was piercing. "He needs to pay for that and the other crimes he's done."

"Harry," Hermione shook her head. "Do it in your own terms. Ron is satisfied by us winning the war that he doesn't even think about that anymore. Capture Yaxley because of his crimes, not because of Ron, okay?"

Harry swallowed hard and then nodded. He never stopped staring at her with an emotionless gaze as he opened the door and stepped aside while holding it, his other arm arched behind his back.

"Ms. Granger."

Hermione frowned. She knew that her words did not really go through to him like she hoped they would and she felt ridiculous to think that he would easily fall into her perspective. He was a stubborn man, reckless even. She had known that since he ignored her during their first flying practice in their first year – he had gone against her warnings of possible punishment if he was seen flying by Madam Hooch just to retrieve Neville's gift from Draco. It was courageous of him to risk points of their house and detention in his record for a friend, but it was also thick of him to almost get injured for it. They could have simply reported it to the professor as soon as she came back.

Hermione kept her chin high as she stepped into the concrete concealed room, and Harry followed closely behind her, the door shutting with in a slam after them. She could hear Harry muttering the Silencing Charm and the Muffliato Charm but her eyes were trained on one specific individual she sees sitting on one end of the wooden table present in the empty room and she can feel her fingers trembling as she curled them into a tight fist.

His blonde hair was no longer; it had been shaved off during inspection of the aurors. His onyx eyes were dead, the bottom of his eyelids were sagged with heavy bags and dark rims. His skin was grimy and smudged as if he had been rolling around in the dirt for more than a decade. A patch of unraveling and untucked facial hair was grown over his jawline, some of it nearly covering his mouth – it was dirty and indecent. From the short distance where Harry and Hermione stood, they can see his fingernails were blackened in mud and reddened by dried blood. He seemed like a sole survivor who had just been found. But the most gruesome part of him is the smug grin he held on his chapped and broken lips, showing his yellow-stained and crooked teeth. It disgusted Hermione greatly that she almost vomited a bit in her mouth.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Mr. Rowle." Her eyes moved to the woman seated beside him. "Ms. Mark."

"Come to grace me with your presence, princess?" Thorfinn asked snidely, the grim grin never faltering, and then his eyes shifted behind her. "Ah, I see you brought one of the dogs of the Auror Department, too. Funny. I didn't think they'd allow them in here."

Harry pulled his wand out from within the pocket of his coat as he stomped towards Thorfinn and then pointed it directly at his face, the tip harshly pressed against the center of his forehead, digging into his skin.

Hermione was quick to react in time and held Harry's arm tightly. "Harry, don't!"

Harry ignored her, his eyes fixed on Thorfinn. "If you keep up with your snide remarks, I'll curse your arse like I should have when I caught you. A few minutes under the Cruciatus Curse should be sufficient enough to teach you a lesson."

Thorfinn's attorney, Olivia Mark, butted in. "Then you'll be the one paying the price. One cast of any of the three Unforgivable Curses will earn you a one-way ticket to Azkaban and inside there you have no one, not one of your lackeys to defend you. Tell me, Chief Potter, how do you think it will look in the morning newspapers when you're in the front page as the first Head Auror to be sent to Azkaban? I think it would look tremendous."

Harry's arm shook under Hermione's grasp, the pulsing of his muscles thrumming against her palms through the sleeve of his coat, and she also strengthened her hold on him as she shook her head, her eyes pleading him for his well-being.

"Harry," Hermione hissed under her breath. "It's not worth it."

Harry growled lowly.

"Harry," she tried again.

Finally, Harry lowered his arm and slipped his wand back inside his coat pocket, his fierce glare never wavering on Thorfinn, who was smirking at him knowingly. He walked towards the far end of the room, stuffing his hands in the deep pockets of his coat and leaned against the wall with a hard scowl towards the second male in the room as Hermione went to sit on the chair across the table. A heavy tension swelled in the room as the four settled in, two with the struggles of not taking out their wands and casting a hex to the suspected man while that one man was satisfied to see their tense reactions to his presence.

"So, Counselor Granger, to what do we owe the pleasure of meeting you today?" Olivia asked, breaking the silence.

"Well, first off, I would appreciate it that you do not speak to Chief Potter in the way you did," Hermione said sternly. "Need I remind you that if any or all information were to come out of this room, you will be arrested immediately on the spot under the Department of Aurors. Although, I don't approve of Chief Potter's behavior," she emphasized by sending a pointed look at Harry's way before she turned to Olivia. "But that doesn't mean I will accept yours."

"Alright then," Olivia nodded.

"Good."

From the wall, Harry was astounded to see this strict and professional side of Hermione. He had seen her act maturely and refined whenever she studied for an exam or for her own enjoyment and sometimes during their period in Dumbledore's Army, but he never saw her in the act of her career. He should have expected this from her yet he could not stop the pang of amazement and admiration he felt for her, taken by surprise at how intimating she can be to those who oppose her. He had witnessed it many times but it was strongly this time, more passionate. Her voice never wavered in her words and her eyes never flickered away from Olivia. She stood tall; she was a pillar woman. Nothing could seem to tumble her down now. Harry admired that about her.

"So what is it that you requested this meeting for, Counselor Granger?" Olivia asked directly. "My client has already said everything he's known since he's been victimized."

"Yes, he has and that's why I'm here," Hermione answered. "I've been reviewing his statement and I can honestly say it's very clean – too clean actually. And a bit too simple. How ironic is it that you're suddenly under the Imperius Curse after everything is over."

Thorfinn looked skeptical. "What are you suggesting?"

"Tell me, Mr. Rowle, how much of a coincidence can it be that you're suddenly a victim of the Imperius Curse as soon as the war is over?" Hermione questioned straightly. "With such background like yours, it could be the perfect excuse to save your own neck."

"Are you suggesting that he is lying, Counselor?" Olivia shot back. "My client has pleaded not guilty and they ran spell tests on him that confirms his influence under the Imperius Curse. Also-"

"I know about the spell tests," Hermione interrupted. "And I know about his alibies. I told you I've been reviewing everything about him. I have no doubt that he may have a fifty-percent chance to actually be proven guilty and released from all charges if you play your cards right."

"So why waste-"

Hermione held a hand up at Olivia but her eyes were settled on Thorfinn. "But the thing is, you never played your cards with me before." Hermione then took the folder from the table and pulled out a sheet of paper. "Thorfinn Rowle; born from a family of purebloods, Zachary and Lucy Rowle. Attended at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the year 1711, sorted in the House of Hufflepuff, and later dropped out in his fifth year. There have been several reports from both of his parents for his sudden disappearance in 1715 and then later in 1949, they were found brutally murdered – or to be more descriptive, slaughtered – in their own homes. There was no sign of a break-in and it was considered an inside job. The murderer was never found."

Thorfinn narrowed his eyes at her. "That's an invasion of privacy! You can't just look into my life like that."

"Oh, but that's where you wrong, Mr. Rowle," Hermione said. "According to Section 20, Paragraph 2; all information on wizards and witches can be requested if used under the court of law or approved by the Minister of Magic. And considering this case is happening due to numerous violations to the law, I have permission to use this," she smirked smugly at him.

Thorfinn glowered, his hand cracking lightly as he balled it into a fist beneath the table. By the far end of the room, Harry pursed his lips to prevent himself from snickering at the scene.

"Even if you are allowed to use Mr. Rowle's history as evidence, what does his parent's murder have to do with the case?" Olivia countered. "Are you saying that he killed them too?"

"Oh no, of course not, but if the shoe fits…." Hermione shrugged. "Everybody knows that if someone disappeared from the face of the Earth like Mr. Rowle did then it is because he is hiding the fact that he or she is working with the dark arts." Then she switched the papers. "I took the liberty of searching for your alibies to have a confrontation with them but unfortunately I couldn't."

Harry could see Thorfinn fidget slightly in his chair and noted that his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he gulped somewhat discreetly. He tried to not let his face break out into a grin at the obvious nervousness that Hermione is causing the suspect to feel.

"You see, all of your alibies," Hermione grinned. "Are dead."

An intake of breath was heard but no one knew if it was from Thorfinn or Olivia. Hermione pulled out a sleek sheet from the folder and slides it over to the other side of the table, a picture of a mangled body dusted in ashes and dried up in dirty blood was shown. The face was battered open deep enough to see the skull, the arms were twisted impossibly into painful angles, the legs were torn into two, and the torso was spewed out into the clear. A gloved hand was seen moving the head in different directions to show the jumbled facial features that are noticeable.

"Gibbon was a Death Eater along with you," Hermione continued. "His body was found under a pile of debris in Hogwarts back in 1997 and was later identified then reported dead. The cause was the Killing Curse the connection of the spell is directed to your wand."

"It was an accident," Thorfinn said. "It wasn't meant to hit him, it was-"

"Meant for Remus Lupin," Hermione finished, her voice laced with a cool venom and her eyes were harden in a cruel rage as the memory of her former DADA Professor's body lying on the floor in rubbles and cold skin flashed in her mind. She was horrified to see him motionless and emotionless in the cobblestones in the Great Hall, his chest showing no signs of breathing, his face having no speck of pain, and his hands lying limp in his sides with one tangled with his recent wife, Nymphadora Tonks. It was bittersweet to see that even through death, they are able to still find each other but to lose such great companions in a very crude way was still hurtful.

Hermione swallowed quietly then pulled out another photograph from the folder. It contained an image of an elder man unmoving on a set of crooked steps of a staircase, his eyes wide but hollow, and lightly bruised.

"Frank Bryce," she continued thickly. "Another victim who is dead. He was found in the old Riddle house in Little Hangleton. All traces of a Killing Curse connect to Lord Voldemort."

"He was a good friend of mine," Thorfinn murmured. "Grew up together."

"You may have in another life," Hermione remarked snidely. "But it is not likely. How could you two have possibly grown up together when he was born in 1917 and you were born in 1700? You're old enough to be his grandfather."

Thorfinn pursed his lips, remaining silent.

"Let's continue." Hermione reached for the final photo inside the folder and slides it over next to the other two. It was a young brunette, probably in her early twenties, lying on top of a boulder with the back of her head cracked open and her blood splattered over the rocky surface. Her eyes were open but lifeless. "Bertha Jorkins. Former member of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, also graduated from Hogwarts. She went on holiday to Albanis in 1994 and never returned. When they found her, she was murdered. All traces lead to the Killing Curse from Voldemort, too."

"This is ridiculous," Olivia stated. "This does not prove that Mr. Rowle did not know them. Just because he is older than them does not mean that they were not acquainted. And you said it yourself; all of these murders were caused by Lord Voldemort. There is no sign that it is directed to Mr. Rowle. Therefore, whatever theory you seem to be making, is wrong."

Uh oh, Harry thoughtful as he rolled his eyes at Olivia's words. He is one of the many people who knew better than to tell his best friend that she is wrong about something. He pressed himself against the wall whilst he waited for the storm to merge on.

"You're right," Hermione said. "All of these aren't directed to Mr. Rowle but my point of stating these is not to prove he murdered them, it's to prove that he was not truly under the Imperius Curse in the first place."

"Care to elaborate?" Olivia challenged.

"Gladly." Hermione smirked. "You see if Mr. Rowle was under the Imperius Curse by Lord Voldemort like he stated he was then that must have taken a great amount of magic to hold on for so long. One of the side effects of the curse being casted on for the many years Mr. Rowle was in is that it could cause some brain damage and affect one's memory of the events that happen. Everybody seems to forget about that whatever spells used to tamper with the mind can alter it. Therefore, if Mr. Rowle was truly under the Imperius Curse for so long, he should not remember anything, not even the day he got cursed."

Harry watched, amazed. He had known that Hermione's knowledge on charms and spells were infinite, that she could easily cast them and describe their usage or fatalities, but for him to see her use her memory in an extent that could be useful against another was incredible. Before she would debate whether someone was wrong about a charm, potion, or how to recite an incantation, including professors, and it was friendly back in the days, but now she was beyond her level of comfort in confrontations. She was hard, unnerving in this state and it is what made her excellent at her job. She was her own rock and nothing could seem to knock her down. How Harry never noticed this about her, he does not know. He was just mesmerized by this fascinating side of hers.

"Also, in your statement, you never said what time of day it all happened," she urged on. "On my way here, I talked to some of the shop keepers who have been here for a long, long time. Coincidentally, one of them was an old classmate of yours, more specifically dorm mate. I don't suppose you know a Niall Mclaggen, do you?"

Thorfinn's blood ran cold at that name while Harry's eye widen in shock. Surely, it could not be a relative from their former classmate, Cormac Mclaggen. In Hogwarts, many generations are known to grow up together and follow the steps of the previous, old or new. But he had never heard of another member of Cormac's family to have attended the magical school. Then again, he was not fond of the fellow during his school days.

"He told me about how close you two used to be and all before you suddenly changed," Hermione explained. "He said you were a shy and timid lad until your fifth year – the year you dropped out and disappeared - you enjoyed hexing your classmates and began to be rather dark with your chums. When you were leaving, you had left behind a note saying your parents have taken you out of school and later that day, your old professor announced you have dropped out of the school. A bit ironic, don't you think?"

Thorfinn scowled. "That doesn't-"

"I also went to have a talk with every other store keepers," Hermione intruded. "Their children actually, and I showed them pictures of you as a child to now and they don't recall ever seeing you in Diagon Alley at all. The same is with the people who knew Frank and Bertha – you are unknown to them. Therefore, my so-called theory of you not being under the Imperius Curse stands. Besides...why would Lord Voldemort use the curse on you for? Becoming a Death Eater is a choice not something forced on."

"You bitch!" Thorfinn yelled suddenly as he rose up erratically, his chair tilting back and falling into the concrete ground with a shattering thud.

Harry's stomach lurched alertly at the sudden turn of events and was soon seen towering behind Hermione with his wand at the ready, his instincts reacting before his mind out of reflex. The easily detected malic in Thorfinn's voice when he cursed his best friend had triggered a protective switch inside him and a spark of electricity ran up his spine that woke up an unbearable impulse to pull his best friend out of harm's way, an old feeling he always got when it came to her. He has no control over it whenever he saw harm coming to her or her attracting it – it was a natural reaction for her.

Hermione remained unmoved. "That's an improvement from what people usually call me."

"You think you're so great, don't you?" Thorfinn said. "It's your kind that has tainted our world. Nothing is the same anymore because of you. A filthy Mudblood."

A sensation lurched inside Harry by the maniacal look gleaming off in Thorfinn's eyes and he tightened his hold on his wand. "Stand down, Rowle."

"You act so high and mighty as if you're something special when you inferior to a house-elf," Thorfinn battered on. "All your achievements happened because you're associated with Harry Potter and married to a pureblood, a blood traitor. If you were on your own, you wouldn't have survived and the changes you made wouldn't have happened."

Hermione stood from her chair and leaned forward with her hands firmly planted on the surface of table, her face only a few mere centimeters away from the bleach-blonde males'. Her face was calm and collective but her eyes were furious in a red blaze and spoke in a strikingly petrifying stare that could easily knocked down those its pointed to.

"Unlike you, Mr. Rowle, my achievements affected the world for the good of it instead of imprisoning Muggle-borns like me and mistreating magical creatures for pleasure," Hermione said. "Whether or not I knew Chief Potter or married my husband, things would still turn out the same way. Why? Because I don't give up so easily. Because I don't back down to the enemy no matter how powerful they are. And because I'm not you." Her eyes shined in pride and vengefulness. "And that is why I'm going to win."

With that, she walked away from the table and elbowed her way out of the interrogation room. The only thing breaking the stiff silence is the clacking of her heels.


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