Disclaimer—I do not own Harry Potter, Deadpool, or any of the characters therein. Nor do I make any moneys from the posting of this fanfiction.

Hello, everyone. Hope that your day is going well. Here's the next chapter. Enjoy!

…

Chapter Twelve

"Psst, Sweet Cheeks?" Deadpool spoke to her as soon as the man left them there to look over the photos. "How is this going to help us?"

"We don't know if it's the entire class that's died," she pointed out to him. "I have a feeling that our answer to whom it might be will be here." She got up, pushed him into the seat in front of the computer. "You read off the names there on the computer and I'll check them off of our list."

"But this is so boring!" he whined.

She leaned down and whispered something that had him letting out a long sigh and breathed, "That would be a great way to eat ice cream."

"With the toppings of your choice," she murmured.

"Ansel 'my parents clearly didn't love me' Andrews, Bernadette 'I need a new nose' Abbot…" And on and on it went. Until, "Colin 'I'm on drugs to be this happy' Creevey…"

Hermione's head snapped up. "Stop!" She slipped into his lap and looked at the photo. "No, it can't be…"

"What? You knew him?" he asked, looking at the photograph again. "That runty little kid?"

"He was a sweet boy," she murmured. "That died far too soon."

"Sweet Cheeks," he breathed. "Is he the reaper we are going after?"

Her head lowered slightly, as she admitted, "He might be. The Fates tend to pick magicals due to the fact that they don't need to train them as much as a non-magical." She worried her lower lip. "But I can't see him doing it for no good reason." She muttered, "There has to be." But this was the cold blooded murder of not just one person but just over fifty men and women. There wasn't a plausible reason for it and she knew it.

Deadpool pulled her back into a hug, kissing her temple and just held her as she came to terms that the individual doing all the rogue reaping just might be an old friend.

…

They went to speak to the deputy-headmaster again, but by this time he was occupied with the workings of the school. Knowing that they had a better source to speak to about Colin, they ended up thanking the man and went on their way.

Dennis Creevey was now working as a photographic journalist for the Quibbler. And it had been their good luck that he happened to be in London, as they had found out once they had located him at his flat that he was due to travel over to the Amazon to help with the filming of a nature special in the next two weeks.

The arrived in to Colin's brother's flat in Hackney just in time to see Dennis's husband flying out the door yelling that he was already late for a meeting. Dennis's face lit up at the sight of his one time school mate there at his door.

"Hermione!" He hugged her, stepping back and gave a puzzled look over to Deadpool.

"Dennis, this is Deadpool," she introduced them. "Deadpool, this is Dennis Creevey."

"Nice meeting you," Dennis said. "Come in! Any special reason why you're here? I haven't seen you since that disaster of a date you had with that lad…what was his name?"

"I made it a point to forget it," she said, chuckling weakly. "Dennis, I need to ask some very difficult questions." He looked over to her, as he was shutting the door. "About Colin."

Any and all humor left his face. "He's dead."

"I know," she murmured. "But the questions still need to be asked."

Pursing his lips, he went to sit down in a wingback chair without even bothering to invite them to do the same on the lounge across from him.

"Tell me about Locksley Primary School," she said, managing to startle him.

"The school from hell?" he asked absently even as his kind face went a bit harder with the memories. "What's to tell? My brother and I hated it there."

"Why?" she pressed gently.

Clearing his throat, he said, "My da was a milkman. We didn't have much and my ma did her best to stretch every dime. She managed to make friends with the board of governors of the school and Colin and I got into the school thanks to a scholarship. The kids going there came from wealth and saw us no better than dirt under their shoes. Because of that, well, they bullied us constantly. The ones that didn't bully us, either did nothing or supported those who did. It was a daily battle just to be able to get to eat our lunches in peace."

"Were they harder on Colin?"

He laughed humorlessly and said, "Yes, in fact he drew their attention on purpose in a way to protect me from their cruelty." Dennis frowned. "Why are you asking about this? It was ages ago."

"I needed some answers," she told him. "And yes, they were important." Smiling kindly, she added, "I wish I could tell you about this, but as it is I was pushing my luck coming to speak to you." She went over to him and said, "Thank you so much…"

"Does this have anything to do with Colin's ghost coming to visit?" he asked, interrupting her.

"His ghost?"

"Damn," he muttered getting to his feet. "Forget I mentioned it…"

"I can't," she said. "Tell me about it."

Frowning he got up and went over to the side table, grabbing up his fags and yanking one out. He pulled out his lighter from his pocket, lighting it. Letting out the first hit in a long stream, he looked over to them.

"He's been coming to see me since he died," he told them. "Said that he had a job and that he was happy."

Worrying her lower lip, she asked, "That might have been how he was feeling when he first started, but is that still the case?"

He looked at his cigarette for a moment. "Honestly?" Frowning he said, "I don't think so."

…

"Okay," Wade said as he casually licked at the whipped cream off of Hermione's skin. "Cotton…"

"Colin," she corrected him breathlessly.

"Colin was bullied and died in that war of yours. And now he's killing all the kids in that class of his, starting with the bullies that treated him like shit and in some cases their parents and kids?" He paused. "Sounds fair."

"That in no way is fair!" she snapped at him. "Everyone has a time and a place they take their last breath. It is not for us to play judge, juror and executioner. We reap what was sown when we are given the lists by the Fates and not a moment before." Frowning she muttered, "No one has ever said death was fair in that regard." She let out a long groan as his mouth suckled at her nipple.

"I like ice cream a lot more now than I used to," he murmured. "So what are you going to do about this Concave guy…"

"Colin Creevey," she corrected him absently. "If he broke the contract, he must be punished."

He lifted his head and asked, "How can you find out it's him or not?"

"I have to meet with him in person," she told him. "The moment I shake his hand, I'll know. He'll carry their deaths with him like a bad aura."

"Like a sweaty palm?"

Giggling she murmured, "Close enough."

TBC…

…

And there went another chapter speed walking into the Internet! Thank you so much for reading. If you could, please review. Take care and please have yourselves a blessed day.