A/N: Warning-long chapter ahead!


"If You Only Knew"

Chapter 7


The two wizards stared at each other without saying anything.

He wasn't quite sure what he'd been expecting as he looked at his old childhood friend, but it wasn't this. Ron was no longer the lanky wizard he remembered. His physique had quite a muscular build to it now and the red hair that had been getting rather long before he'd left was now cut short. And as Harry studied him further, he realized that Ron was taller than he remembered. Did this particular Weasley ever stop growing?

So many things were running through Harry's head at the moment that he didn't think he'd be able to manage a sensible sentence if he tried.

Luckily Ron was the first to speak. "Mum still orders the Daily Prophet on the regular. Never misses an issue. I was at the Burrow when this afternoon's 'emergency edition' arrived."

"How is your mum?" Harry asked quietly.

Indifference clouded Ron's face and for some reason, Harry shuddered at the sight. The young Weasley looked slightly threatening with that look in his eyes. "If you cared, perhaps you'd have stayed in touch."

"Ron—"

"Five bloody years. Five. Why? Do you have any idea how much pain you caused? Do you know how long we looked for you?" he said as he raised his voice towards the end.

Harry looked away from him and started towards the house. This was the last thing he wanted to be confronted with at the moment. He came here for peace and quiet, not to be bombarded with questions and be lectured.

As he reached the door, he felt Ron's hand on his shoulder and the next thing he knew he was being whipped around. "We're not finished. We're having this discussion tonight."

After he looked into the eyes of the angry redhead in front of him, Harry sighed and knew that Ron was determined. Besides, he supposed they might as well get this over with. He had hoped Ron would have been too pissed off at him to even bother, but, as luck would have it, that was apparently not in the cards.

"Fine. But if we're going to talk, you might as well come inside." Ron took a reluctant step back and then, after what Harry guessed was an insane amount of internal arguing, he finally nodded and agreed to follow him. As he got his key ready, a thought occurred to him and he turned back to Ron. "Out of curiosity, how'd you know I'd be here?"

"I was your best mate for eight years. I think I know you well enough to know that you would eventually wind up here after being exposed to theProphet."

"So you just camped outside of my house until I showed up? That doesn't sound like you," he noted.

"Well for your information, I'm not the same person I was five years ago, so there's quite a lot you don't know about me anymore."

Harry tried his best to ignore the jab and the pain and guilt that immediately followed it. Ron was right. There was a lot he didn't know anymore.

"But you're right," he said with a bit of a guilty grin on his face. "I enlisted George's help and set up an alarm system on the house. It was a bit tricky, but we managed to successfully charm this place to let us know when you got here. We've had this set up for a while, now. Years, actually."

Harry couldn't help but be impressed at that. "You did that? Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't you pay even less attention in Professor Flitwick's class than I did?"

"Yeah, but you're forgetting something very important that I just said." Harry raised an eyebrow and smirked, waiting for him to continue. "I said I enlisted George's help. You think he'd know a thing or two about charms to have a successful joke shop."

"Touché. Very good point," he said as he finally opened the door. "Now I have no idea what the state of this house is going to be like. I mean Kreacher—"

But Harry never finished his sentenced due to his jaw dropping. The place was spotless and, as far as he could tell, it looked exactly the same as he left it. "What on earth?"

"What?" Ron asked, annoyed.

"The house. It's . . . clean," he spat out.

"Well imagine that. You have a house elf that actually cleans. Go figure," Ron said sarcastically.

"Shut up. It's just that I figured Kreacher would kind of let this place go to hell. It's not like he hasn't done it before," he mumbled under his breath, inadvertently thinking of Sirius.

"Well Kreacher likes you. Simple as that," Ron finished with a shrug.

When Harry glanced over at Ron, he had a feeling he was being less than truthful. His suspicion was only heightened when Ron avoided his gaze and refused to look at him. But Harry wasn't going to question it because really, who didn't have their secrets? Look at the ones he harbored, for example . . .

"Right," he said as he tossed his duffle bag onto the couch. "Well, come in. I don't know how long we'll have before my team sends an owl for me."

"Team?"

"Still an Auror, Ron. I'm here on assignment."

"Of course you are," he said bitterly. "Otherwise, you wouldn't be here at all, would you?"

Harry sighed and sat down while he clasped his hands together. "I know this won't mean anything to you, but I am sorry."

"You're right. It doesn't mean anything to me. Sounds like a load of bullocks if you ask me."

His patience was thinning. He knew he didn't really have a right to get impatient with Ron, seeing as it wasn't him who left or cheated. But he was beginning to feel a little tired and, unfortunately, he felt a headache coming on.

"If you've come here just to tell me how much of a tosser I am, then you can show yourself out. I have an early day tomorrow and I need to get some kind of sleep."

Ron mirrored Harry's earlier sigh and sat down in an armchair. "That's not why I'm here. I really didn't come here to argue with you," he said quietly. Harry snorted in disbelief and Ron gave him a pointed look. "I promise, I didn't. You just know how my temper can be sometimes. I don't always have the best of luck controlling it."

Harry couldn't help but grin and then nod in agreement. "Something you and I have always had in common, I'm afraid."

"Yeah and both of our tempers put together drove Hermione mad most days," he said with a grin of his own.

At that name, Harry almost immediately felt uncomfortable, but thankfully, he didn't show it. He was in full control of masking his emotions nowadays. Well, for the most part, anyway. His own temper sometimes still managed to get out of control, but he at least had mastered the ability to keep his face blank when it came to things like this.

So, like he had to do so many times before, he put on a smile for Ron and pushed the pang in his chest aside.

But something odd happened then. Ron's own smile faded and he became quite serious. It unnerved Harry, actually, and it made him even more uncomfortable than he was to begin with. "Ron? Is everything okay?"

"No. No not really. There's a reason I came here. I need to tell you something that isn't exactly going to be easy to say, let alone for you to hear. But . . . I need to do this before you hear it from anyone else."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "What is it?"

"Well, I assume Oliver's told you that I stopped by his flat about a year ago, right?"

"What are you talking about?" he asked, feigning dumb.

Ron chuckled a bit and amusement twinkled in his eyes. "Harry, surely you didn't think Wood was a good liar, right? Mum knew he was lying the first time she talked to him. All of his stammering was a bit of a clue. Anyway, when I got there and asked if you were in New York, he told me the same thing he told my mum. But I saw right through it. His conviction was a bit stronger than it first was, but I knew. I could tell.

"Honestly, I wanted to hex the truth out of him because I was so close—I just didn't know where in New York you were. I'd been half-tempted to find a stash of veritiserum and slip him some, but I didn't exactly have the resources for that. And when it was clear he wasn't going to tell me anything, I left because you obviously didn't want anyone to know you were there. Oh and by the way, good job on your protection charms against tracking. Very impressive, that was. Drove the Ministry barking mad," he added with full, appreciative smile.

Harry laughed and couldn't help it, either. The idea that he had driven the Ministry of Magic mental gave him the slightest feeling of satisfaction. And this felt good. Never in a million years would he have predicted that Ron wouldn't start throwing punches upon their first meeting. He was glad to have been proven wrong. Things were undoubtedly tense, that much was true. There was unrestrained resentment lingering in the atmosphere, but if Ron could look past all of it, so could he.

He cleared his throat and glanced back over at Ron. "So why did you go over to New York in the first place?"

Ron cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. "This is the hard part, I'm afraid. Harry, it's about Hermione."

His attention became one hundred percent and his mind was fully focused. This did not sound good and it sent his heart racing. The look on Ron's face gave him an uneasy feeling and he didn't like it one bit. "What about her?"

"Well, as I said before, I didn't want you to hear from anyone else, and so I—"

"The point, please," Harry snapped impatiently. He was growing antsy and wanted to know what was going on with their friend.

"Right. Well, there isn't really an easy way to say this, so I guess I'll just say it. We . . . we don't know where Hermione is," he said quietly.

"WHAT?" he exclaimed as he got out of his chair.

Ron winced and got up to stand right in front of Harry, who was fuming. He was barely aware that Ron placed his hands on his shoulders and tried shaking him a little bit. His mind was too busy racing. Hermione was gone? How was this even possible? And most importantly, why? This made no sense. "Okay, one—you need to calm down."

"You expect me to CALM DOWN? You just spring something like that on me and expect me to be all sunshine and daisies about it? Not bloody likely!"

"You don't have the right!" Ron said coldly.

Harry felt like he'd been slapped. Either that, or somebody threw cold water on his face, snapping him out of his anger. Perhaps it was a bit of both. As he looked into Ron's eyes, he saw that the young wizard's eyes were swimming with unmasked pain and hurt and rage.

"You were gone! We were torn up for months after her disappearance. We looked everywhere for her. We had to resort to getting the Ministry involved and try tracking her. And then we tried speeding up the search to find you to get help, but there was nothing for us to do! We couldn't find her, we couldn't find you . . ." Ron wiped at his face and took a step back.

He watched, feeling helpless as his old friend turned his back, letting his head fall skywards. He didn't think he could remember a time where Ron was ever quite this sullen and serious. Not even after the war was over and everybody was grieving.

The sight of Ron like that helped put a stop to his spinning mind and focus his thoughts. It didn't make things any easier, though because so many questions were forming in his head. Was she okay? Had she been kidnapped? Did she go on her own? Had someone been threatening her . . .? His fists clenched at the thought and his stomach turned. The idea of someone threatening her made him sick. He sincerely hoped that wasn't the case.

"Is that why you came to New York?" Harry asked quietly. Ron nodded with his back still turned and Harry's heart sunk. "I was there you know?"

At that, Ron turned around with narrowed eyes. "What?"

Harry nodded and looked away. "I had just left five minutes before you got there." He snorted in disgust and felt very frustrated with himself. "Five minutes. If I had just waited, I would have been there. I would have helped."

Silence passed between them and Harry couldn't recall ever feeling this uncomfortable around Ron. They'd always been so at ease with each other. From the word 'go' they'd been best mates, despite the differences they shared, because of them. And he'd ruined everything. Yet, as strange as it sounded, he couldn't bring himself to regret that one night with her. He just couldn't.

But he could try and set things right.

"What do you need me to do?" asked Harry.

"Do?"

"To help with the search. Whatever you need me to do, name it and it's done."

Ron turned back around and cocked his head to the side. His eyes were filled with a wary, tentative hope and Harry felt marginally better about it. "You can light some fire under peoples' asses. They're not taking this seriously anymore and it's not a priority—"

"Done."

The other wizard was still skeptical. "You realize that means you'll have to throw your name around, right? You hate doing that."

Harry shook his head. "True. But if it means finding Hermione, then I don't care."

After further scrutinizing the dark-haired boy, Ron finally seemed to be convinced and the relief in him was evident. "Thanks." Once more, a quiet hushed over Grimmauld Place, a result of neither friend knowing what to do or say. There was a time once where this wouldn't have bothered Harry, but now it did. "Why are you here?" Ron suddenly asked, changing the subject and breaking the silence.

Harry's brows furrowed together in confusion. "I told you—"

"I know," he interrupted. "You're here because of work. But why are you here? It must be something serious if you've been placed in England."

Harry sighed and nodded. "Muggle killings have been taking place in the States."

Ron's eyes narrowed even further and he looked perplexed. "So why are Aurors looking into that?"

"Because it's Avada Kedavra that's killing them," Harry said quietly.

He knew it was against the rules to be telling Ron all of this. But it was keeping the silence at bay and even though in the back of his mind he knew that it wasn't, this nearly felt like old times when they were discussing things like Voldemort. It felt right telling Ron.

Plus it helped that this was distracting him from his over-active imagination. If he weren't talking about this, he would be thinking of all the things that could have happened to Hermione, all the reasons why she wasn't here anymore . . . And the look on Ron's face wasn't helping matters. He looked just as devastated as Harry felt and all he wanted to do was make it better. He wanted to put things right again and the urge to jump up and search the entire globe for her if it was necessary became prominent, so he was very thankful that Ron was providing this distraction.

The other wizard scrunched his nose and scratched at his head. "But why muggles? Muggle-born witches or wizards I could try to understand, but muggles?"

"Same questions we're asking, Ron."

"How many?"

"Four. Four in the last five months, no obvious connections, and no solid leads."

"Blimey, that sucks. But wait a second. If you don't have any leads, why are you here?"

"Because my boss is a moron," he said with a snort. "He thinks Lucius Malfoy is the mastermind behind this."

"Not bloody likely," Ron said under his breath.

That sentiment definitely peeked Harry's interest. "Why do you say that?"

"I actually came across that soddy old git a few weeks ago. Pompous as ever. I swear, I'd like to give him a good kick in the—"

"Ron. Focus," he said, unable to contain his smirk. He was glad to see some things never changed.

"Right. Anyway, I was saying I highly doubt it's Lucius you're after because when I saw him, he was weak."

"What?" Harry asked, unable to contain his surprise.

He was an escaped convict and he had people seeing him on a daily basis? Where was the justice? Harry could only guess that the old sod had enough money to throw around to make the mess go away. After all, he had no master to return to anymore, so why did it matter if he escaped?

Ron nodded. "Yeah. He was acting like nothing was wrong, but he could barely do the simplest spells. I've actually spoken with Malfoy about it and he told me he's had to stop in and check on his dear-old dad more than a few times. Azkaban apparently did not agree with that old stiff. Lucius Malfoy can barely produce a stunning spell. I doubt he'd be able to do Avada Kedavra."

Harry cursed under his breath. "I figured as much. Great. Now we're back at square one. Could be anyone."

Another period of uncomfortable that dreaded silence passed. Harry wanted desperately to ask about his family, but he wasn't quite sure how receptive Ron would be to the idea. After all, Harry was inclined to agree with Ron on the matter. He should have at least stayed in touch, even if it was a one-way communication system. Besides, it was obvious things had changed, especially if Ron was speaking civilly to Malfoy.

He was also itching to question Hermione's case, but he restrained himself. Now that they weren't speaking about anything, his head was starting to get away from him again and the glazed over look in Ron's eyes coiled around his heart like a vice. The grief in the young man's eyes was nearly too much to handle. Anger he could deal with. He knew how he was supposed to react to that. But this? What was he supposed to do or say to make this better? He wasn't God. There was no magical to fix everything. He was just at a complete and total loss.

"Mum's fine," Ron whispered, interrupting his thoughts. "So is Dad."

"Good," he said, unable to contain his relief.

"I'm sure they both really want to see you while you're here. They've been worried sick about you. Ginny, too."

"Ron, I'm—"

"Don't even say you're sorry," he interrupted. "The only reason I'm not pounding you into a bloody pulp right now is because of my mum and sister. You have no idea how much grief you've caused my family."

He was starting to get a little angry now. Ron could have helped alleviate some of that grief if he hadn't been so blinded with his own hurt and anger at Harry's decision. While Harry had an idea of why nothing was said, that didn't mean he wasn't getting irritated.

"And what about you?" he snapped. "I know you didn't tell them I was leaving, Ron, so don't try and pin all of this directly on me. You helped in the pain department."

Ron's eyes narrowed into tiny slits. "I kept quiet because it would have devastated them either way. I was looking out for my family. You think it would have changed things had I said, 'Oh hey, Mum, Harry just wanted me to tell you that he's taking off and not saying goodbye to anyone. When's lunch?' Think again," he retorted. "If they had known you couldn't be bothered to say one word to them before you left after everything we've all been through together, that would have only made things worse. You left, Harry. It's time to deal with the consequences of your actions."

Well, he was definitely just put in his place. Ron may be a lot of things, but he loved his family with every fiber of his being and would do anything to protect them.

Harry sighed. "You're right," he said quietly. "I know how hard things must have been—"

"No you don't! Did you know that reporters camped outside the Burrow for weeks after you left?"

Harry's head snapped in Ron's direction. "What?"

Ron nodded and gave him a bitter smile. "Of course they did. They followed Ginny everywhere, despite her claims that you'd broken up with her ages before you left. According to them, you'd still spent time with her after it all, so she must know things. They knew you were practically family, so surelysomebody knew the inside scoop on Harry Potter."

He cursed and wiped at his face angrily. His frustration was growing more and more each second and he began questioning his decision to leave, even though it was pretty pointless to do so. His family had been stalked because of him. It may not have been directly because of him, but it was his decision that fueled the hounding.

"They tailed Hermione, too," he said quietly.

"Are you kidding?" he shouted angrily.

"You know I'm not," he said through his teeth. "They wouldn't leave me or her alone for months. They badgered us longer than they did Mum and Dad, and it was more than enough to get me angry. Hermione was having a hard enough time dealing with everything without being reminded on a daily basis that you weren't there anymore."

He watched Ron's jaw clench and he looked angrier than he had before. That was Harry's tip-off right there that something else was going on. "What else?"

"It's nothing," he mumbled.

"I'm not stupid! I know you're not telling me something, now what is it?" he said angrily.

Ron hesitated. "Those bastards actually got Hermione injured one time. It makes my blood boil still," he said with anger glinting in his eyes. Although, Harry wasn't quite sure where that anger was directed.

"What happened?" he asked in alarm, feeling his own temper flaring.

"I'm not exactly sure, but she was trying to get to an apparation point to avoid them and she tripped over something and nearly got trampled. It landed her with a trip to St. Mungo's," he said with a clenched jaw. "She tried to brush it off as no big deal, but Mum wasn't having it. That was the closest she ever came to canceling her subscription," he said with a smirk. But that reminiscent smirk soon faded into a frown. "Then there was one more incident with her."

"Another one?" Harry asked exasperated. "Did she get hurt again?"

"Not that time, no. It was just one reporter. But it really unsettled her. She came back to the apartment in a right state. She was trembling."

"Did she tell you what happened?" he asked, even though he knew what the answer would be.

As predicted, Ron shook his head. "No. It happened about a month or so before she took off and part of me still thinks that particular incident had something to do with her leaving. The whole thing was strange anyway because it had been a while since we'd had reporters bothering us for information. Three years, in fact. I asked her to tell me what was wrong, but she wouldn't say anything. She said something about dogs sleeping—I think it's one of those muggle sayings she's obsessed with, but I didn't quite understand what she was on about—and then she went on a rant about how she wished those reporters would focus on their own lives instead of prying into others.

"I hadn't seen her that upset about reporters since the whole mess with Rita Skeeter happened back during the tournament. She wasn't even that fussed with them in the beginning. She just ignored them. But this one got to her. Whoever it was got under her skin and I would really love to know which one it was so I could find them and do some kind of damage to them."

Harry felt the same way. He wanted nothing more than to give whichever reporter who hassled Hermione a good punch in the face. His hands tightened into fists and he silently cursed those reporters. They had no respect for his right to privacy and it made his blood boil. The leeches even went so far as to tail his friends and family just for a story and he wanted to go and hex every single staff member of the Prophet. Damn nosy bastards.

A glittering object caught his attention and he promptly picked it up and threw it across the room. He didn't feel any better when the item broke into tiny shards. He thought smashing something would help, but it only made him angrier and caused him to want to break something else. Ron jumped in surprise and glanced at Harry warily.

"Come on Harry, calm down. And stop blaming yourself, because none of us did. It's not your fault those people are worse than bloodhounds. Besides, it happened a year ago."

"You had your time to be angry about it. Let me have mine," he snapped.

Ron sighed and a grim expression returned to his face. "Look, I'm sorry, but I have to ask this." He took a deep breath and looked Harry straight in the eyes. "Do you have any idea where she could be or why she would have left?"

He didn't bother keeping the surprise off his face. It seemed to be a ridiculous question considering he'd had no communication with her for the last five years. "Why would I know the answer to either of those questions? You would have a better idea than I would."

"You're kidding me, right?" Ron asked in pure disbelief. "You were closer to Hermione than I ever was," he said bitterly. "And don't bother trying to deny it. She would tell you things with no problem at all, but it was like she forgot how to talk around me! Unless of course it had to deal with you," he said with a laugh.

And it looked like they were back to the anger portion of the conversation. If he was being honest with himself, he wished they would just have an actual fight and be done with it instead of doing this whole dance bit they were doing now. He knew Ron was angry and while he admired the restraint the other boy seemed to have developed over the years, it didn't change the fact that it would probably be best to just get everything out in the open once and for all. Minus the fact that he slept with Hermione. That would just be pointless to bring up since it was never going to happen again, anyway.

"Ron—"

"Look, I just came by to tell you about Hermione. If you can think of anything, just let me know because we're still searching for her. And now that you're here, we can pull more resources into the effort since we don't have to use them on you anymore." The redhead winced, as though he only just realized how that sounded. He sighed and ran hand through his mop of hair. "I didn't mean it like that. I just meant—"

Harry cut him off. "I know what you meant."

The youngest male Weasley nodded sharply. "Here's my new address," he said as he reached in his pocket and tossed a piece of paper on the table.

"Ron—"

But before he could say anything, Ron was gone. Harry's jaw tightened and he sighed. "I really need to get tighter wards on this place," he mumbled.


Once word got out that Harry Potter was, indeed, back in London, the media went into a frenzy, as predicted. Things had gotten to be so hectic that he didn't even have that much time to think about or process Ron's visit, which also meant that he had little time to spend on the side in helping with the search. And his so-called incognito disguise hadn't done a damn thing. The next day when he'd gone back to meet up with his team, they'd been spotted sitting in a café. Harry's disguise, needless to say, had failed miserably.

Of course, it hadn't been for lack of trying. They'd nearly gotten away with it until Jim had opened his big mouth and accidentally yelled at him in a moment of frustration and called him, "Potter." Jim had been on the receiving end of hateful glares from all three of his team members and they all went to the nearest apparation point and got out of there as fast as they could.

Thanks to that incident, they couldn't go out in public without being ambushed. Harry felt awful about it and wished there was something he could do. This wasn't something he wanted his team to have to go through and they were getting hit with questions and flashes because they were simplyspotted with Harry.

He had to give them credit though. In the week since 'the incident,' his team members were sticking by him like glue. All three of them were fiercely loyal and he couldn't have asked for a better team. And they were all helping him communicate with his godson on a daily basis as well. They let him use their owls to send mail and helped with spells to block off his fireplace from the floo network. They truly were a godsend.

And somehow, in the week since he'd been back, Ron remained the only person that he encountered. He didn't understand it. The anticipation that he was inevitably going to run into another member of the Weasley clan was unsettling and he wondered why no one else had popped over to Grimmauld Place. With George having helped set up the alarm system on the house, he was certain other family members would know where he was by now.

As it was, though, he didn't really have much time to think about anything other than his caseload, which, he was highly thankful for. His busy schedule kept him from thinking too hard about Hermione's disappearance, even though he had kept his promise to Ron and used the pull of his name to try and get an advantage on the search for her. He hated doing that and drawing attention to himself, but he was desperate. If his name could help find her, then so be it.

He shook himself from those thoughts and forced himself not to focus on Hermione any longer, even though she was always there in the back of his mind. Things regarding the muggle killings had not improved. The four of them were starting to get discouraged and the press wasn't helping matters. Out of the three of his team members though, Jim was the one that was grumbling the most, much to Harry's amusement. After all, he'd been the one to 'out him' so-to-speak, and he was the one complaining.

"What's the big deal?" he asked offhandedly as Harry was getting them settled into Grimmauld Place. They had tried remaining at the hotel, but it just wasn't working. So Harry suggested they stick together and come stay with him. "I mean it's just you."

Harry blinked. "Thanks, Jim."

"Sorry," he moaned. "It's just since news got out you were here, I've barely been able to take a piss in peace. I don't exactly like being stared at while I'm doing my business."

"I don't think anybody does," Harry remarked absently.

Jim rolled his eyes. "Not the point! How the hell did they even figure out who I am? They barely had time to see me! And I'm not exactly known for anything. Oliver, I can understand—you were on that Puddles United thing—"

"Puddlemere United," Oliver said through clenched teeth. Harry quirked brow in amusement. "What?" Oliver snapped. "If he's going to belittle Quidditch, he could at least get the name of the team right."

"I wasn't belittling anything! I was simply pointing out that—"

"You called it 'that Puddles United thing'!" Oliver shouted back.

"I was close!" he countered.

"You were not! Puddlemere United hardly qualifies as little piles of liquid on the ground!"

Harry was getting ready to say something when Claire beat him to it. "Really boys. It's a silly game."

He groaned. He saw Oliver turn his head towards Claire and Jim backed away looking slightly frightened. "Just a game?" he asked in appalled voice.

Feeling frustrated and not wanting to hear Oliver's speech on how Quidditch was life, Harry interrupted him. "As much as I'm looking forward to hearing you profess your undying love for Quidditch, I must insist that we move on and focus on getting you lot settled in."

"But—"

"Claire, you'll have the room across the hall from Oliver," he said, ignoring Oliver. He tried to hold back a grin as Oliver huffed and folded his arms while he mumbled under his breath. "Jim, you'll be next to Claire—and wipe that smirk off your face. I said you'll be next to Claire, not sharing a room with her," Harry reprimanded.

For as long as he could remember, Jim had been sweet on Claire, who was utterly oblivious to the seriousness of the situation. She thought Jim found her to be merely attractive and she refused to indulge him in that aspect. But Harry knew better. He knew all too well the looks Jim would cast her when she wasn't looking and it irritated him beyond belief that he played off his feelings as a joke.

"Too bad," he said as his smirk grew. Claire had the grace to flush with embarrassment and looked down at the floor.

It made Harry angrier still that Jim was, yet again, not owning up to how he really felt. He glared at the blonde. "Like I'd subject her to you," he shot back. Jim's grin faded away, as did his playfulness.

Tensions rose in the hallway and Harry cleared his throat, excusing himself. "Meet down in the living room in about a half hour or so."

Harry retreated to his room in a separate wing of the house. The team had agreed, despite his adamant protests, that he deserved his privacy and at the moment, he was extremely happy he'd agreed in the end.

He shut the door and flopped on his bed, burying his head in his pillow.

He hadn't meant to be so short with Jim, but his attitude annoyed Harry. He recognized that Claire felt the same way about Jim, but she wasn't going to be some friend-with-benefits girl. He didn't understand why his friend was being so idiotic about his feelings. Those two could be together with no problems, yet Jim was creating unnecessary friction and making it next to impossible. If he'd been so lucky with Hermione . . .

Harry groaned into the pillow and put it over the back of his head. He was pathetic.

Why did everything always have to fall back to her? Why couldn't he get over this?

It wasn't as though he hadn't tried. When he'd first gotten to the States, he'd been so hurt and bitter that he'd dated any girl who would have him to try and get Hermione out of his system. Of course, he supposed he couldn't technically call what he'd done dating. It had been more like a string of one-night stands. Usually, he couldn't even remember the girl's name the next morning.

Kate had been less than pleased with him when she'd discovered his idea of 'dating'. She had come over to his apartment one morning and found his date in his kitchen wearing his shirt. When he'd come out to greet her, Kate had asked him to introduce her to his friend. He'd stumbled over the name and when he'd ventured a guess, he'd discovered he hadn't even gotten the first letter right. The date had stormed out of the apartment after getting dressed and Harry had felt thoroughly embarrassed by the time it was all said and done.

Kate had scolded him something awful and it was then that she'd made him realize that he hadn't even been close to being over Hermione. Plus, what he'd been doing was irresponsible and she hadn't failed to point Teddy out, which had made him feel even worse.

So he'd put a stop to his short-lived hedonistic lifestyle and pulled himself together. He owed Kate a lot. He owed her everything, in fact. Thinking about Kate resulted in thoughts about Teddy, which made him homesick. He hoped they could get this case solved quickly. He wanted to return home to his godson.

As he continued moping in the silence of his room, he heard a knock at the door. "Come in," he said, though it came out muffled and he wasn't sure they could hear.

Sure enough, the knock came again and Harry took out his wand and opened the door for whoever it was. "Harry? It's time for our meeting," Oliver said.

He pulled his head out from his pillow and nodded a thank-you. "I'll be down. Give me a minute to collect myself, Wood."

"Sure," he said quietly and then shut the door behind him.

Harry slowly got out of bed and ran a hand through his messy hair. Ugh. He was going to have to apologize to Jim—he'd been out of line with that comment and he right well knew it, too. He had a feeling this was going to be a rather unpleasant meeting . . .


And an unpleasant meeting it was. After an hour and a half of intense disagreements from the three male members of the team, they finally decided to call it a night and start fresh in the morning.

Once Ron had informed him of Lucius's weakened state, he relayed that information to the team and they had all come to a conclusive agreement that Malfoy was not their culprit. Which was what was causing the further bickering earlier. After they'd informed Jerry of their findings, they'd been ordered to stay on and do further searching. Their boss was convinced that it was one of the Death Eaters and, while Harry didn't want to admit it, he was inclined to believe Jerry was correct.

Of course, that was the only thing he, Oliver, and Jim had been on agreement with. Claire kept to herself for the most part, trying to play Devil's Advocate for the three of them when things got bad, but she got shut down so often that she eventually ended up just staying quiet for the entire time. Normally, Harry wouldn't have stood for that. Any time Claire went into one of her quiet modes, he would ask for her input and opinions, but this time . . . he had too much on his mind. Not that that was a proper excuse for allowing her to be excluded from having her opinions heard, but it was the best he could come up with.

He wiped at his face and wished he wasn't acting like such a douche bag, but sometimes, he just didn't seem to have control over his actions. That was something he hadn't mastered yet, unfortunately.

Sighing, he glanced at his clock and crinkled his nose in distaste at the time. He really needed to start going to bed earlier. But first, he needed a shower before he even thought about lights out, so he made his way to his bathroom and was showered within ten minutes, thankfully. He was so tired, though, he was surprised he managed so quickly. After he was finished, he rummaged through his drawers for sweatpants before settling on a plain gray pair.

He put them on quickly and fell face forward onto his bed before he turned over on his back. This was one good thing about being in Grimmauld Place—his bed was damn comfortable. So far he's had no problems going to sleep right away.

But as the minutes ticked by, he realized he praised the bed gods all too soon. He was left staring up at the ceiling, unable to shut his mind off.

For one, his thoughts were drifting back to Hermione, as they had many times this past week ever since she learned she was no longer here. Where was she? Why would she just disappear like this all of a sudden? When Ron had first told him, he'd put all of his energy into the search when he wasn't working, even though he admittedly didn't have a lot of spare time. Not surprisingly, he was coming up empty handed and it was bothering him more than he would have liked it to. That's when he started using the pull of his name to help move things along. His frustration and worry was starting to get to him.

He wished he could find out who the reporter was. If he could, then maybe he could have a solid lead for once. His first hunch had been—and still was—Rita Skeeter because that woman was the only one he knew of that could Hermione so worked up. So far, though, he'd been unable to contact the wretched woman. She'd been successfully dodging him all week. Apparently she wasn't stupid enough to fall for an "exclusive interview" with him.

Before he could further ponder things, a knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. His head turned towards the intruding sound and he grumbled. What was the point of having his private wing if he couldn't get said privacy? "Come in."

"Harry?"

Great. It was Jim. He had certainly not been expecting this visit. Usually Jim brooded for days upon days and was stubborn to the death. He was thinking about being cross with him, but he had a feeling that Jim was here to have a serious talk. Even his walk was somber.

"What is it?" Harry asked quietly as he swung his legs over his bed.

Jim sighed quietly and sat in a chair that was close to Harry's door. The blonde clasped his hands together and stared directly at the floor before he took another deep breath. "I'm in love with her," he blurted out.

Harry smirked and didn't bother asking who with. He already knew. "I know. I'm pretty sure Oliver does, too."

Jim's head snapped up and he groaned. "Could I be any more pathetic? Why am I such a dick to her?"

"I wish I could tell you the answer to that. But I couldn't even begin to guess why it is you do the things you do, mate. Sorry."

"She thinks I'm some kind of man-whore," he moped. "Which, is kind of true, but it's different with her. I don't want her to think I'm a slut!"

Harry laughed and leaned forward. He rested his elbows on his knees and grinned widely. "Oh man, you've got it bad."

"No need to inform me of that. I'm well aware," he remarked dryly.

"Have you thought about telling her so?"

Jim glared at him. "What kind of idiotic question is that? It's all I've been able to think about!"

Harry made a surrendering gesture. "Sorry. But can I give you some advice?"

"Why the hell not? It's not like I've got anything to lose."

"Thanks," Harry replied with his own glare. "Anyway, what I was going to say was that you and Claire do not have any drama, at least none that I'm aware of. You don't have any drama with her, do you?" Jim shook his head and Harry nodded. "Good. So you see, things are simple. You have a good relationship established with her, she trusts you as a friend, and I'm pretty sure she might possibly feel the same way about you," he offered.

At that, Jim's eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Yeah, really. Look, take it from me. Go after her while you have the chance. If you wait too much longer, some other bloke'll snatch her up. Trust me."

"Sounds like you're talking from experience."

Harry shrugged. "We all have our pasts."

"Ugh. Could you be any more cryptic? You know something, you've never given me a straight answer when it comes to your past here in England. I thought we were friends."

"We are."

"So then talk to me. You've been on edge ever since we've gotten back and I don't think it has anything to do with those stupid media people. They're like gnats, but I gather that you're used to them since you've had to deal with them for most of your life. So what's really been bothering you?"

He blinked in surprise. Harry honestly hadn't been aware Jim was quite that observant. Or that he knew him that well. It was slightly disconcerting. "Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to give you the abridged version. To make a long story short, after I defeated Voldemort, the press would not leave me alone. I couldn't even go the grocery store with Teddy without being assaulted with camera flashes. I was feeling resentful because I wanted privacy and they wouldn't respect my need for it. Plus, on top of all that, I went and did something stupid," he mumbled.

"What's that?"

"I fell in love with my best friend," he said emotionlessly.

Jim's eyes narrowed as he frowned. "That doesn't sound so stupid to me. Happens more often than you think."

"I'm aware. Because my other best friend fell in love with her too, and she fell for him."

"Oh," he said as comprehension dawned on him. "That sucks."

"Yeah," Harry said solemnly. A weak smile came across his features as an idea occurred to him. He crossed the length of the room and walked over to his dresser. In the top left corner, buried underneath a pile of socks, lay a picture of him, Ron, and Hermione shortly after the defeat of Voldemort. It was taken on one of his good days.

He picked it up and gave it to Jim who smiled at it. "You looked happy," he commented.

"I was," he stated. "I hadn't quite figured out what I was feeling at that point."

"Oh," he said with a light chuckle. "I guess that explains it. Honestly, I don't see what the catch is in that guy," he commented. "Personally, I think you two look much better suited for each other.

While a part of him couldn't help but agree, there was something inside of him that took offence to Jim's comment about Ron. Ron was a good guy and he'd been Harry's best friend ever since he first discovered he was a wizard. Feeling the need to defend his friend, Harry snatched the picture back and threw Jim a stern glare. "Ron's a great guy. Hermione's lucky to have had him," he said.

"Had?"

"They broke up apparently. I've not spoken to either of them in the last five years. An old friend of mine was the one who informed me of the breakup."

"But I'm confused. Didn't that Ron guy tell you about Malfoy being piss weak?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. That was the first time I've spoken to him in years, though. It was a bit awkward."

"Well what did he want? Surely he had to have some kind of reason for coming to see you?"

His jaw clenched and his frustration only built when he looked down at Hermione's smiling face. "Hermione's missing," he admitted. "She took off. Nobody knows where she is."

"That's what's gotten you so riled this past week. Does Oliver know?" Harry nodded yet again. "Do you know why she left?"

"Not one clue. She pulled a 'me' and left without really saying anything. There was one incident that just seems too convenient . . ."

"What's that?"

"Dunno, really. Ron mentioned that a reporter tracked her down. She went back to his flat very upset from what he told me. But she wouldn't tell him what happened. Ron thinks, and I agree, that that encounter has something to do with her sudden urge to leave."

"Do you know who the reporter is?"

"Looking into it. I have a hunch as to who it was, but she keeps avoiding me somehow. I figure that piece of filth is our best shot at finding anything out. But Ron and his family have been looking into it as well and have come up completely empty handed. Nobody's got anything substantial to offer."

"So basically you're just at another dead end?"

"Pretty much."

"Wish I could help," he said quietly.

Another knock interrupted their conversation and Oliver peeked his head through the door. "We're supposed to report to the Ministry at 7:30 sharp tomorrow morning. Jerry's just owled me about it."

That was odd. Why on earth did they need to go there?

"Did he tell you why?"

Oliver shook his head. "Not really. He was pretty vague in his letter." He paused and grew thoughtful as he leaned against the doorframe. "Is it just me or does—"

"Something seem off about this 'mission' we're on? Yeah, I reckon it does," Harry filled in.

"You know, I've been getting that feeling, too. This whole thing is bizarre if you ask me," Jim stated.

"Has Claire said anything about it to either of you?" Harry inquired.

"No," they replied in unison.

"Why does that not surprise me?" Harry sighed. "Well, there's not much we can really do besides follow orders for now. So I suppose we'd better get to bed since we've got such an early day tomorrow. Oliver, have you told Claire?"

"Yeah. She went to bed about twenty minutes ago."

"Right then. See you lot in the morning. I'm going to sleep," Harry said tiredly.

"Night," they both said.

That time when his head hit the pillow, he had no problems at all falling asleep.


The next morning, the four yawning Aurors reported to the Ministry of Magic as instructed. All of them were grumbling as they made their way to their respective meeting place and Harry was feeling a little grumpy that they had to be there in the first place.

When the four of them were spotted, the Prime Minister made a welcoming gesture and held his arms out wide. He gave them all smiles and Harry didn't fail to notice the greedy glint in his eyes. From what he could tell, this man was no better than Scrimgeour. And if he was right, he could only imagine the wheels spinning in that slimy git's head.

"Welcome to our humble abode. We expected you to arrive earlier in the week, but no matter. Please, step into my office."

He ushered the four of them inside and Harry bit back a smirk at the décor. Somehow he wasn't surprised at how outlandish this office was. He glanced over at Claire, who was looking down at the floor as her lips were twitching.

Jim didn't bother to hold back a grunt of disgust. He turned his nose upward and gave Harry a 'what-the-hell' look. Harry simply shrugged and motioned for Jim to pay attention.

"Harry, Harry, Harry. Welcome back," the Prime Minister said as he sat down in his ridiculously large chair. "Although I must say, your abrupt disappearance has caused quite a stir among the wizarding community. Sticky business that was," he commented.

The man in power, Leonard Fletcher, rubbed Harry the wrong way so much that he couldn't help being a little insolent toward him. He'd never met the man before in his life, yet Fletcher was acting as if he had a say in how Harry lived his life, like the Ministry owned him.

"Well, Minister, I wish I could say I was sorry, but that would be a lie, and after all, I must not tell lies," he said icily. He pulled down the sleeve of his work robes to further emphasize his unwillingness to be in his presence.

Jim's expression grew confused at that point and Claire glanced at him with shock written all over her face. She had never heard him backtalk to a superior before and as far as she was concerned, that scum in front of them was their indirect superior. Their reactions didn't surprise Harry since he'd never informed either of them of his past dealings with the Ministry. Oliver was the only one who was aware of the bad blood and he didn't look surprised in the slightest.

At his words, the Minister's eyes darkened significantly.

So it was as Harry suspected. Fletcher knew just about everything there was to know about Harry's life, including his schooldays. The other man's chest started heaving in anger and it looked very much like he wanted to curse Harry. Harry returned the icy stare and tensions rose in the room.

Oliver cleared his throat and spoke next, trying to pacify the situation as soon as possible. "Minister, with all due respect, would you mind telling us why we've been called into your office?"

"Right. Of course," he said through his teeth, still glaring at Harry. "I've called you all in because—"

A knock interrupted them and a lumpy looking woman with a pleasant disposition cheerfully peeked her head inside of the Minister's office. "Excuse me, Prime Minister?"

"Yes, what is it Lydia?"

"The other team has arrived. Should I send them in?"

"Yes, yes. Of course, please. Thank you, Lydia."

Lydia nodded and disappeared. But Harry's attention was now fully alert and he didn't like this one bit. "Other team, Minister?"

A sly grin formed on his lips and he motioned towards the door, which three more people came barreling through. Harry recognized two of them so far. Zacharias Smith, he noted distastefully. But Harry was going to keep an open mind. He may have been pompous back in their school days, but perhaps he'd changed since then.

The other person he recognized was none other Dean Thomas. He beamed at Harry. "You're back! Those rumors in the Prophet were true then?"

He smiled and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm back. Just here on assignment though," he pointed out.

The other boy's face fell. "Oh. Ginny'll be disappointed to hear that."

"Ginny?" he asked, feigning ignorance. He had a feeling Dean and Ginny were still together.

Dean grinned sheepishly. "Yeah. She and I got back together. She's my fiancée now," he said proudly.

"Good for you," Harry said honestly. "I'm happy for you, Dean."

"Thanks!" His smile suddenly fell as he glanced back towards the door. "Oh. There's something you should probably know. It's about—"

But Dean did not have the chance to finish his thought. Harry's eyes stayed transfixed on the fourth figure that entered through the door. "Sorry I'm late. Lydia was showing me pictures of her two grandchildren. Cute little bastards."

His jaw dropped. "Malfoy?"

He greeted Harry with a curt nod and, much to his surprise, that all too familiar sneer he'd been expecting was absent. "Potter."

Harry looked over toward Fletcher, who had a gleeful grin on his face. "Mr. Malfoy's team will be joining yours. Mr. Potter, meet your new teammates."


Phew!

Sorry about the length of the chapter, but I couldn't really figure out a good place to cut it off. I probably could have stopped after Harry's meeting with Ron, but that would just delay you guys meeting present-day Hermione.

That being said, I apologize for the slight lag in this update. But I was very finicky with this chapter and I nitpicked it to death. I know that Ron's reaction probably doesn't make a lot of sense and a good chunk of readers might have been expecting a blow-out for their first meeting, but I wanted to get the point across that Ron's not the same person he was when Harry left. He's still got a temper on him, of course, but he's not quite as hot-headed or immature. He's had to grow up. Yeah, he's definitely pissed off at Harry, and they'll come to blows later. But he's putting Hermione first and trying to focus on finding her.

As for Hermione, she has her own reasons for leaving, which will be discovered in probably chapter 11ish maybe? You'll see present-day Hermione at some point during the next chapter, though, so the wait will finally be over! Hoorah! Kudos for your patience!

I'm still not sure how this chapter will be received, honestly. I'm nervous if you can't tell. Lol.

Also, I don't know if anyone's noticed the lack of Mrs. Black's portrait or not, and I probably shouldn't have drawn attention to that, but I was wondering it ever got removed in the end? My memory says no. But I just can't be certain. Anyway, for the purposes of this fiction, it'll be mentioned in later chapters that with Hermione's help, they discovered a powerful enough spell that enabled them to remove it. Just thought I'd address that in case anyone was wondering.

Okay, I think that covers most everything. I will be doing review replies shortly, but I wanted to get this update out there. Thanks for your patience!

Anyway, thanks goes to:

pyroseyes, Mikeo6464, Aaron Leach, keske, A. Pikachu, paintinxxflowers (3-times), pawsrule, jafr86, hippolina97, DocDoc, F5Chaos, toooldforthis, SorrisoD'amore, Slanic (100th REVIEWER!), Wesleyangirl13, and carbon12.11.

Slanic-Lol. The next chapter is going to be published right now! And thank you! I'm glad you enjoy the writing style of this story. I appreciate your compliment and am very flattered! Also, you are my 100th reviewer to this story, so congrats to you! I wish there was some sort of prize or something I could hand out, but alas, I cannot. But I think it's awesome that you helped propel this into the triple digits, so thank you!

All right, then. It is time to peace out, my friends. I have more writing to work on, as the story is starting to catch up with the number of chapters I already have written. I'm going to try and stay ahead of the game with this. That being said, I probably won't post the next chapter until chapter 9 is completed. I've got the first bit of it written, so I'm hoping I'll get that accomplished rather quickly!

Until next time... ciao readers! You guys are awesome :D

[EDIT:] GRRRRR. Stupid fanfiction site. Lol. It took out all my line breaks and I didn't even notice. I was reading that to try and help me get back in the groove and then I noticed the scene jumps and I was like, "What the hell?" *rolls eyes*

Annnnd OMG, I am so incredibly sorry for this lag in my updates. I was doing so well with it and then I was just like "Erm." I am working on this little by little, though, I promise. I am determined that you all will get an update in May. Hopefully really early May. I know, I really suck. But, I just recently entered a monthly challenge at another website and I spent a lot of time on the one-shot for it and it paid off! I'm a finalist for it! *dances* But now that it's been submitted and all that jazz, I'm going to resume focus on Harry Potter. Promise!

[EDIT 2:] I have replaced the previous content and fixed the prime minister issue. It was bugging me and I wanted to rectify it, so I made up a new name for the job. Hope this is a little better!