Lovers and Liars

.o0o.

Ninety-Nine Problems

"Hermione."

It was not known for Luna Lovegood to be surprised. In fact, she was sure that had she counted the times in which she'd been surprised on her fingers, she'd still have fingers left over on both hands.

Tonight, though, she was definitely surprised.

It had been months since Hermione had seemingly dropped off the face of the earth, nearly an entire year to be honest. Adding to the overall surprise of her return was that Hermione had chosen to her doorstep.

It wasn't that they weren't friends . . . it was more that the two of them had become friends born of necessity, and Luna was not such a fool so as to assume that the older witch was closer to her than to Harry and the Weasleys.

"Can I come in?" Hermione asked. Nodding by way of answer, she stepped to the side to allow her friend entry, before flicking her wand to ensure the Wards were still in place. One could never be too careful in these troubled times, for whilst it was true that the war was over, the recent kidnapping of Narcissa Malfoy had proven that the peace was not as calm as expected. Satisfied at the strength of her protective enchantments, she shut the door.

"Wine?" she offered, stuffing her wand into her robe as she leaned against a kitchen counter.

"Thank you," Hermione replied. Luna nodded before flicking her wand to pour her friend a serving. Glancing at the bottle, she quickly came to the realisation that although she was not a fan of alcohol and rarely drank it, tonight of all nights called for a third glass.

Sipping at the rich liquid, she felt a sort of liquid courage fill her veins.

"How are you?" she asked, "Gin–" she faltered, worries for her best friend pricking at her mind. She swallowed, composing herself, and continued, hoping that Hermione would not pick up on her misstep. Selfish as this would make her, she didn't want to think back to the events of the previous night, and she certainly did not want to share such bitter tidings with her friend the second the girl arrived back in Britain. "Ginny said that you needed to take some time to just get away from everything."

"I'm fine," Hermione replied, and Luna almost – almost – believed her. "I needed some time to be alone with my thoughts."

"You were gone for nearly a year, Hermione," she pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

"Every daydream has to break for you to return to the nightmare." A frown crossed Hermione's face as she spoke, her eyes glistening in the soft lighting, and Luna was sure that she was about to burst into tears. Then it was gone, as if someone had flipped a switch, and her friend adopted a more neutral expression. "How are the boys? Ron and Harry?"

"Ron keeps himself busy. I see him at the Leaky now and then with the other Auror trainees. He's doing well, and I hear that Molly's quite taken with Lavender." She paused, noting the flicker of pain that flashed across Hermione's face as she learned that Ron was currently involved with Lavender Brown, but thought nothing off it. As much as she sympathised with Hermione, Luna knew that life could not be put on hold whilst recovering from tragedy.

As her romance with Draco had proved, sometimes love struck in the most unexpected of places, and it was in a way the most powerful healing tool of all.

"Harry, on the other hand, I'm surprised you haven't heard about him from wherever you've been. He has been splashed across every tabloid, after all."

"I was hoping that they'd been exaggerating in the typical Skeeter fashion," said Hermione, tilting her glass forwards when Luna moved to refill it.

"More like watering down the worst of it. The public wants to know about him being a hero, not a teenager gone off the rails. The Quibbler doesn't even bother reporting on him anymore, it's all the same."

"I see."

And that was it. Luna stared, wondering whether or not Hermione was being serious in her reaction, and for all intents and purposes, it seemed like she was. As ashamed as she was to admit it, she, like so many others who had been incapable of getting through to Harry about his womanizing lifestyle, had assumed that everything would go back to normal once Hermione returned.

Hermione was the glue that had held the boys together and kept them both from killing each other, and without her, it was no surprise that they were crumbling. More to the point, Harry was the one falling to pieces, whereas Ron was rising to the challenge and going on with his life.

To say that this was one of the few surprises of her life was an understatement.

It was only then that she realised.

For years, Hermione had been like a candle, shedding light to those around her at her own expense, and she was finally all burned out. Truth be told, Luna was surprised the brunette had lasted this long.

Deciding not to press the issue, she simply opted to look at her friend expectantly, waiting for Hermione to carry on the conversation. Holding her tongue did not come naturally to her, but she knew that some things were better left unsaid.

"What about you and Neville? The pair of you were together when I left," queried Hermione after a few moments of pause. Luna sighed. She had known that this question would eventually be put onto the table . . . and it was better she answer it before Hermione find out that Draco was asleep in her guest bedroom, but she wasn't in the mood for the ensuing tirade that would no doubt spill forth.

She'd already heard about how much of a mistake it was to date Draco from everybody at Hogwarts and their families, after all.

"It's complicated, Hermione, he wanted to settle down and have a white picket fence – and I can't fault him for wanting that after all he's been through. But . . . I never wanted any of that, not now at least. Right now, I want to see the world, discover a few new species and prove the existence of the Crumple-Horned Snorkack.

You know when I say it out loud, it doesn't sound complicated at all."

"I get it," replied Hermione, a wan smile spreading across her face. "Sometimes you just need to do what's right for you." Her voice was soft, yet strangely level, as if she was fighting to keep it so. In fact, if Luna didn't know any better, she'd have sworn that she'd seen her friend's fingers tremble.

If there was one trait that Luna knew she possessed, it was her intuition, and something told her that Hermione was putting on a show of holding it all together. Everything about her from her smile to her shoulders seemed stiff and on edge, but it was not her place to pry.

Not in the slightest.

"So, other than wanting to ride a dragon, what else do you have in mind?" Hermione continued, and Luna realised with a start that her friend had been talking for the entirety of the time in which she had been mulling. This wasn't like her to miss something so obvious . . . but then again, this past week had not been the easiest for her. Between her boyfriend's kidnapped mother, her best friend being in a coma, and her upcoming N. E. W.T. s among other things, she was being stretched quite thin.

She was about to respond when a dry voice spoke up, and despite never once in her entire life feeling the need to be embarrassed, the look Hermione gave her was enough to call a blush to her cheeks.

"I thought we were taking things slow, love, so what's this I hear about you riding a dragon?" asked Draco, a smirk on his face as he leaned against the doorframe. Shirtless, cocky, and wearing as big a mask as Hermione, he quirked an eyebrow as he added, "Fancy seeing you here, Granger."

.o0o.

"It's rude to stare, Granger," he said, his faux smirk deepening. "Though, catching a glimpse of me without a shirt on is probably a highlight for you."

"I've seen better," she replied, her tone dripping with acid and scorn. "What in Merlin's name are you doing in Luna's house?" He could see it in her eyes – the denial – because it was so evident that she'd want to deny the truth of what she was seeing. Deep down, he knew her mind had already made the connection . . . but like all the rest of Luna's friends, they were hoping that they were wrong.

It irritated him, to be honest.

"Draco and I are seeing each other," Luna replied, "And given recent events, I've offered to let him live with me."

"More like insisted," he pointed out. Luna winked, and for just a fraction of a second he let his lips curl into a smile. "My turn to ask a question," he said, rolling his eyes as he approached the table. "What brings you back from Down Under?"

She started, her eyes widening, and he couldn't help but savour the moment of getting one over on the great and all-knowing Granger, the brains behind the famous and heroic Golden Trio. It felt quite satisfying, in fact, to be one step ahead of her for once.

The amused expression worn by Luna was also rather helpful.

"H– How?"

"I'm a Malfoy, Granger. We have our ways."

"Funny, because I remember spending a year on the run without a whiff of your Malfoy ways during the war," she snapped. Draco felt his smirk begin to slip, and hastily rearranged his features to maintain his façade. It would never do to let his concern for his mother slip through – to anyone, even to Luna – because as his father had always told him, showing your emotions was the greatest weakness of them all.

He opened his mouth to retort, and then shut it again when he felt Luna's calming hand upon his forearm. Subtly shaking her head, she said,

"Look, I know the two of you aren't exactly fans of each other, but could you at least pretend to be tolerant when you're in my home."

"When in Rome," he said. Granger nodded, and he heard Luna breathe a sigh of relief. Instantly, he felt a pang within his chest. He had known from the very beginning that a relationship between the two of them would be difficult for her, but knowing and seeing it first-hand were two very different concepts. Clearing his throat, he turned to Luna,

"I've just received a message from Blaise. He's asking if you'd mind if Pansy, Theo, and he swung by tomorrow so we could strategize." Ignoring the curious glint in Granger's eyes, he went on, "According to Theo's contact in the Auror Office, they're more interested in capturing the Gemini Sisters than in rescuing Mother."

"I'll key them into the wards," Luna replied, pursing her lips. Turning back to their unexpected visitor, she went on, "You're staying the night, right?" Granger nodded, and Draco could literally see her mentally wrestling between wanting to remain tactful and needing to be clued into what was going on.

Well, she could just keep guessing for the nonce. He was in no mood to explain the entire sorry situation again.

"That would be much appreciated," Granger said. As the girls began to discuss sleeping arrangements, Draco yawned and straightened up. Pressing his lips to his girlfriend's cheek for a brief second – much to Granger's evident disapproval – he turned on his heel and padded his way back to the guest room.

Maybe, one day in the future, he'd be able to look back at this and laugh about the absurdity of living under the same roof as Granger off all people. Right now, though, all he wanted to do was fall asleep.

Catching a glimpse of the stars out the window, he paused. The Black Family, scattered across the heavens, lost amongst the canvas of night. Unlike the rest of them, though, his mother does not dwell with the rest. Named for a flower and not a star, his mother was one of the strongest women that he knew. He had faith that she'd survive this, faith that was dwindling with every passing second.

Throughout the war, it had been his mother who had held their family together. His mother had been raised by the same people who had raised Bellatrix, the darkest witch to have lived since Morgana. Hell, he'd seen his mother outduel his father, and he'd watched her endure a Cruciatus from Voldemort himself without screaming.

She'd been willing to give all she had to keep him safe, and now it was his turn to pay her back. The Greys made pride themselves on their criminal empire, but in his opinion the family had finally grown too big for their boots.

The Malfoys had been royalty in the days when the Greys had been an impoverished cadet branch of the Blacks, and he would be damned if he let these upstarts tear down an empire that had been generations in the making. The Aurors could go about their little investigations, but he would personally use every means at his disposal to get his mother home.

"I'll find you," he whispered. "Even if I have to start another war to do so."

Then, he felt soft hands upon his sides, and he heard Luna's voice, "Will you now?"

"If I have to."

"I don't believe you."

"I'm not who I used to be," murmured Draco, his lips mere centimetres from her own. He didn't want to pull away, no more than he wanted to run from this as he'd run away from so many other things in his life.

He wanted this moment to last forever, and to erase all the pain of yesterday, and every day that had come before.

"I never asked you to change," replied Luna, leaning in to capture his lips with her own.

.o0o.

The first thing she became aware of was the sterile stench of ammonia and antiseptic which clouded her nostrils. The second thing, interestingly enough, was that if she could smell, then she was most certainly alive.

Or was she?

Who could tell what exactly the rules of heaven – or hell, though the lack of fire, sulphur, and brimstone cursed a giant hole into that theory – were?

The world was blurry as she slid open her eyes, having come to the conclusion that the only way in which she could be sure of her mortality was if she took stock of her surroundings. She didn't remember much from before the darkness, other than the brief flash of light.

Obviously, the Death Eaters had managed to get the jump on her, and the only person she could blame was herself. She had been foolish to let down her guard in such a public and unprotected setting.

She took in the starched, white line of the bed she was on, and the pale green curtains drawn around it. The metal railings, the lifeless cream walls . . . if this wasn't St. Mungo's, she was most a Niffler's aunt.

Though, why would she be in St. Mungo's? Wasn't the hospital under enemy control? Why would they admit her here?

All at once, it struck her. She had survived the attack, and rather than kill her, they'd taken her prisoner and were now healing her. Why? The answer to that question was just as obvious.

They obviously assumed that she knew something and thus wanted to interrogate her. A chill ran down her spine at the very thought . . . she had heard stories of what they did when questioning captives, and if even half of the stories were true, then the Cruciatus was the least of her worries.

"Ginny? Ginny, you're awake."

"Percy?" she groaned, blinking as her brother flitted into her field of vision. He smiled, and suddenly, she knew that she was dead. There was simply no way that Percy would be here, smiling at her, unless of course, they both were dead and in heaven.

Wait. Wait. Wait . . .

What was Percy doing in heaven? She'd been certain he was going to end up on the other side.

"Ginny, are you OK?" Percy asked, a look of concern spreading across his pale face. His hand closed around her wrist, and she shied away, fumbling for her wand with her free hand. Not finding it, she yanked her hand away and glared at her brother.

"Get away from me, scumbag," she yelled, her jaw quivering. She could remember it all, every betrayal that he'd showered upon their family, and she'd be damned if she let a family-disowning, power-hungry, Ministry-loving prat lay a finger on her.

His touch had been enough to dispel the brief moment of madness, and all at once she realized that she was merely a prisoner of the enemy.

Percy recoiled as though slapped. "Ginny," he said, "Ginny, what's wrong with you?"

"Get away from me," she screamed, "Or so help me, I'll jinx you so hard you won't be able to feel your own face." Thoughts roared through her mind. Where were her parents? Where were Bill and Fleur? Fred and George? She knew that Charlie was in Romania, and that Ron was on the run with Harry and Hermione.

The Order? How could Remus and the others not have staged a rescue for her by now? How long had she been out?

Gasping for breath, she swung herself out of bed, stumbling and nearly falling as she landed on her feet. Without hesitating, she ripped aside the curtains, and grabbed the nearest weapon she could find.

Her hands closed around the crutch, and she ignored the protests of the patient in the next bed – obviously its owner – before swinging it behind her at her brother. Percy yelled as he ducked beneath it, dodging at the last minute.

"Ginny, calm down," he shouted, pulling himself backwards when she swung the crutch again. Gritting her teeth, she slammed it forward, finally landing a blow.

Percy yelped, his voice higher than she'd ever imagined it could go, as the crutch made contact between his legs. He dropped to his knees, gasping for breath, and Ginny turned on her heel to make for the door.

She'd have to escape on her own, it seemed.

Reaching the door, she swung it open, when out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of Percy slashing his wand through the air and firing off a streak of red light.

Not again, she thought as she crumpled.

.o0o.

"Amnesia? You're having me on, aren't you?" he asked, looking up from the case files Rhea had him scrutinizing. It was unfortunate, actually, that as a trainee he wasn't yet allowed more than five hours of field work a week, because this left him with the one thing he truly loathed in the world.

Studying.

Thankfully, he happened to be working with two Ravenclaws. Terry and Padma had both taken pity on him, and as was typical for the members of their House, they'd insisted on handling the bulk of the work. A large part of him suspected this had a lot to do with the fact that they didn't trust his ability to actually solve a problem.

Who could really blame him? He was a Gryffindor, after all, and when he saw a knot to undo his first thought was to cut it, burn it, or blast it out of the way. The Ravenclaws on the other hand, always wanted to understand and unravel the knots.

"She apparently thinks that the war is still on, that Percy's still a traitor, and that Fred's. . ."

"That's Fred's still alive," he finished, looking up at his brother. George looked more strained now than he had in months. He seemed almost grey, and for the first time since Christmas, Ron could smell the heavy stench of Firewhisky on his brother's breath. "Merlin," he swore. "Do Mum and Dad know?"

"Percy left the hospital at about the same time as I did. He said he'd tell them."

"What are the Healers saying?" he asked, letting the file fall shut. It was time to give his brother his full attention – this had ceased to be a friendly visit, and now, once again, his family was at risk.

"They're running tests. They suspect spell damage, but aren't sure," replied George, pursing his lips. "I just thought you should hear it from one of us, rather than from the Healers when you go to visit her. I need to get home. The shop opens tomorrow and I have a lot left to do."

"Yeah, sure," said Ron, waving his brother off. Instead, he was thinking back to the other night, and what exactly it had been which had sent his sister out onto the street.

An argument with Harry.

Suddenly, he wasn't really feeling like helping his former best friend at all. In fact, knowing what he knew now, he'd wring Harry's neck himself if he could. His mother would look back and say that Harry had saved almost every member of his family at least once . . . when the actual truth was that Harry was the reason most of them had been in danger in the first place.

Merlin, he just couldn't do this alone anymore. He needed Hermione, but Merlin knew where she was. It was somewhat ironic. He'd spent so many years trying to act as though they didn't need her around to survive, when the sad fact was that he knew perfectly well how crucial she was to their trio.

Harry and he would both have died in First Year if not for her.

It was a few minutes later that he realised he was alone in the office, and a few minutes later when he realised why. Parvati and Terry were gone, and judging by the hands of the clock, they'd been gone for nearly an hour.

How long, exactly, had he spent so deep in thought that he hadn't even heard his friends when they'd said their customary goodbyes? Shaking himself, he looked back to the file and opened it. There was still a lot for him to go through on his own, and any clue he could find would be integral to the Field-Aurors currently hunting the infamous Gemini Sisters.

"Weasley, you're here late," came a voice from the doorway, and looking up, he smiled at the sight of Rhea walking into the office. Hair pulled into a high ponytail, with her blouse splattered with blood, she seemed the very image of a woman who had just gone to war.

"Rough raid?" he asked, gesturing at her top.

"You could say that?" she replied, hopping up to perch on the edge of his desk. "Nine dead, three arrested, and two Aurors in St. Mungo's. On the bright side, we closed down one of their brothels."

"You realise that this is just going to end up pissing them off?" he pointed out.

"I'm not an idiot, Ron," she said, "But crippling their operations is the only thing we can do right now. It's not easy, either, I've been working this case for years and this is the second operation we've managed to shut down. I don't know, they're just always two steps ahead of us."

He remained silent, not knowing what to say. From what he'd learned so far, the Greys empire spanned over most of Europe, North America, Africa, and parts of Asia . . . and they hadn't built it by playing nice. The Gemini Sisters alone were proving to be almost untraceable, to the point where not even their magical signatures could be traced.

It was infuriating, and he could only imagine how Rhea felt.

"Go visit your sister, Ron, and then go home. Get some rest, tomorrow is going to be a long day." She sighed, a wan smile crossing her face. "I'll be stopping by Potter's place on the way home. Hopefully, I'll be able to have a few words with him concerning his recent indiscretions."

"A few words?" asked Ron, raising an eyebrow.

"And if that fails, I'll drag his ass into a dark room and lock him in there till every last drop of those potions are out of his system."

In the Next Chapter of Lovers and Liars:

"Potter, you don't even know far of the reservation you've gone, have you?" asked Rhea, her eyebrows disappearing into her hairline as she watched him.

He glared at her, feeling a sullen sort of rage take a hold of him. Who was she to take away what made him happy? Who was she to admonish him for enjoying his life?

"Potter, can you even bloody hear me?"

"I don't really think he cares . . ." He smiled as he heard her voice, soft, mesmerising, and sweet. Purring as she ran her fingers through his hair, he looked up at her as she perched upon the edge of his sofa.

"Tamara," muttered Rhea, her eyes narrowing. She raised her wand, her lips pressing together to form a thin line. "Still doing the Grey's dirty work, are you?" Harry growled, aggravated at Rhea for insulting his source of potion. He made to get to his feet, but stumbled, and Tamara ran a hand along his neck.

"Shhh, Harry, I'll handle this one." She bared her fangs, delicate, white, and pointed, and leapt at Rhea just as the Auror fired off a curse.

A/n: Hello mates.

It's been a while, hasn't it? Well, sadly, it's exam season, which means that a large amount of my time is being uses on studying. The next update should be in about three weeks, after the exams are over, so I hope you can all bear with me.

Ciao Mate

-Shane