Disclaimer: I don't own J.K. Rowling's universe, I just like to play with her characters on occasion.
What She Needs - Chapter 5
Sometimes she didn't even realize it until after the fact.
The worst part of being an Auror, Hermione reflected sourly as she headed to her office, was the fear. Not fear from the bad guys, in fact too often there was little to no reaction among the remaining Death Eaters rooted out of hiding or the new threats that seemed to crop up almost daily. No, it was the fear of the average citizen that was often the biggest obstacle to Magical Law Enforcement in the post-war era. Between Fudge's blatant mishandling of Ministry resources when his anti-Dumbledore paranoia was at its worst and Voldemort's coup of the Ministry as a whole before Harry finally killed him, the people had grown wary of the established order. Harry, of course, never had any trouble getting witnesses to cooperate, and one would think that, as his best friend, Hermione would be given the same consideration, but apparently the four years she'd spent out of the spotlight in the hell otherwise known as the wizarding legal system had been long enough for people to forget who she was.
After finally effecting some change in the laws about house elves, she'd moved on to interspecies legislation, with marginally more success. When she'd eventually decided to join the Auror program, she'd initially refused Kingsley's offer to fast-track her through the training based on previous experience, but after a week in the company of raw recruits fresh out of Hogwarts, she'd changed her mind. Some days, it still felt as if she'd cheated, but mostly she was grateful it meant she merited an actual office with a door, which slammed with a satisfying bang.
"Better luck next time?"
Hermione swore and turned around, glaring at the tall, dark-haired wizard who'd spoken. "Merlin's bollocks, Theodore, I told you to wait!" He was leaning against her desk, arms folded, that faint trace of a smirk on his face. It bothered her, although she didn't like to think about why it bothered her, because it had very little to do with that smug expression and the arrogance that she knew was just a well-justified self-assurance.
"And I was waiting," he replied, waving a hand dismissively. "My apologies if I prefer your office to what passes for my desk. It's quieter here, for one."
The subtle reminder that she had attained in less than two years what he'd failed to earn in nearly six, the dig that she was in an office while he was relegated to a cubicle and a desk in the 'bullpen' of the MLE floor. Hermione's anger disappeared, snuffed out by the crushing weight of the wave of guilt that washed over her. She sighed, flicking a strand of hair from her face and walking around her desk to sit in her chair. "You might as well head out, it doesn't look as though we'll be accomplishing anything today. She's more scared of us than she is of whoever killed her husband."
"You think she knows who did it." It wasn't a question, the way it would have been with Ron or Harry. It was one of the reasons she liked working with Theo, because she never had to explain herself, never had to wait for him to catch up.
"I'm almost positive she knows who did it. I may not be the people-person you are, Theo, but I'm not completely hopeless at reading witnesses." She sighed, flipping open the file again and glaring at it in the vain hope that it would tell her something more than she'd been able to get from the witness.
"You're over-thinking again," he said, after several minutes of silence. Hermione's head snapped up, and she glared at him again, earning another smirk. She opened her mouth to say something, then realized she had no snappy comeback, and closed it again. "You need to take a step back."
"How can I take a step back when there's a killer out there somewhere?" she retorted.
"We won't catch him any faster by you working yourself into a nervous breakdown," he shot back. "You need to get out, relax, do something for yourself."
"I can't," she protested shaking her head. "It feels too much like giving up."
"Merlin forbid a Gryffindor ever give up," he drawled, smirking at her again.
"Where's your Slytherin ambition, Theo? You should be wanting this as much as I do."
"Oh, I do, I assure you." There was an intensity in his eyes, a note in his voice that set off warning bells in her head, and she looked away from him, back at the paperwork.
She heard him unfold his arms, push away from the desk, and took that to mean he was finally going to leave her alone. Instead, he took her right hand in both of his, and her breath caught at the contact, her head automatically lifting, her eyes seeking his face. "What are you doing?"
"Helping you relax," he replied calmly, his attention focused entirely on her hand as he began to massage it, beginning with the palm. She noticed that his hands were warmer than hers, and he seemed to leave some of that heat behind as he worked his way around her palm and then along her fingers. "Your lines are so typically Gryffindor," he murmured, his voice making her jump after several minutes of silence.
"What is that supposed to mean?" she demanded, yanking her hand away.
Undaunted, he reached for her left hand. She initially resisted, but he arched an eyebrow at her in challenge, and she relented. "I'm not sure I should explain myself, given your predisposition toward all things Divination-related."
Hermione snorted, rolling her eyes, and caught him smirking at her again. "Oh, come on, Theo. You can't tell me you actually believe in that nonsense Trelawney was always saying?"
"Trelawney? No." Theo shook his head, his attention still focused on her hand, which made his expression impossible to read. "Not all of it is nonsense, though, especially if one has the proper instruction in interpretation."
Silence fell, again, as she tried to figure out what he was talking about, tried to put it into context with what else she knew about him; admittedly, she didn't know all that much, even though they'd been partnered for over a year. Finally, he let go of her hand, and she flexed her fingers, then looked up at him quizzically. "Theo?" she began, unsure of what question she should ask him first, or if she should even be asking. There were so many walls between them, so many boundaries, and she wasn't sure it was a good idea to start breaching them, but curiosity demanded satisfaction.
"My mother was a Seer." He said it before she could make up her mind on a question, looking away from her so that she couldn't see his face, and she knew that she was dangerously close to crossing a line with him, even if she wasn't sure what the line meant.
"Theo," she began, but whatever she was going to say was lost as her office door opened with a bang to admit her husband.
"'Mione, I-" Ron cut himself short as he spotted Theo, and his eyes narrowed. "Oi. What's he doing in here?"
Hermione let out a tired sigh. "Ronald, Theo's my partner, remember? You and Harry are in each others' offices all the time."
"It's fine," Theo said, without looking at her. "I was just going, anyway. Think about what I said, Hermione. Maybe we'll have better luck tomorrow." He didn't wait for a reply, brushing past Ron and pulling the door closed as he left them alone together.
It took her a good fifteen minutes to calm Ron down, and it wasn't until later that she caught herself wondering about Theo and his mother. The more she uncovered about her partner's mysterious past, the less she seemed to know.
