. . . Chapter 29
. . . Umbridge and Uther Fawe . . .
Hermione turned over and found Ron asleep but shaking violently in the middle of a hot August night.
"Ron," she sat up and shook him slightly. "Ron!"
" . . .off her . . . her-mione . . . off . . . no."
"Ron!" she jolted his shoulders with her hands, moving to kneel over him. He jumped awake and swung an arm out to hit whatever he had been dreaming about. Hermione shrieked and ducked, Ron's fisted hand barely missed coming into contact with her face.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," Ron scooted to sit up against the head board and threw Hermione a bit off balance and she sat back on her bum. He put both hands on his face and Hermione watched in horror as his shoulders shook violently. She moved back to her knees and crawled to him to straddle his lap.
"Ron?" she prodded gently but got no response. "Ron - " Hermione grabbed his forearms with her small hands and dragged them away from his face. He looked broken before her, with tears gathering along his lower lashes.
"'Mione, just - just give me a minute, ok?" he exhaled shakily and she nodded, still holding his arms and sitting over him. She glanced from his face to the clock beside her bed. 4:49. Ron gently took one of his arms back from Hermione's grip and wiped at his eyes. She faced him and opened her mouth to ask if he was alright.
"Ron - "
"Hermione - " he started and snapped his mouth shut when she talked.
"You first," she whispered.
Ron sighed and brought both of his large hands to grip her hips over the thin pajamas she wore.
"Hermione, I can't," he cleared his throat, "I can't. . . I don't think I can tell you what - "
She realized instantly that she'd been the subject of a nightmare. She'd wondered for a while if she was but he rarely, if ever, spoke to her about any of them.
"That's alright, Ron. We don't have to talk about it." Hermione brought a hand to his face, tracing a few of the freckles below his eye with her head tilted to the side, considering his strong, serious face. She traced the side of his face with her hand, moving along the stubble on his jaw and coming to rest on his neck. His pulse was racing under her fingers. Brown and blue met and Hermione saw a flicker of pain in his face as he looked at her before his eyes jumped to her mouth and in a flash his lips were roughly on hers. Both his arms wrapped fully around her waist, anchoring her to him as tightly as he could as he kissed her with a fathomless desperation. With a surprised sound, Hermione returned his enthusiasm and brought both hands up to rest against his stubbly cheeks.
Ron nudged her cheek up with his nose and Hermione lifted her chin in response. His lips found her neck and he laid soft kisses down the column of her neck, brushing gently over the horizontal scar there. She moaned lightly in the dark of the room and felt Ron tighten his arms around her. Every inch of their chests pressed fully against each other with only her shirt as a barrier. He breathed out against her neck and she felt him bury his face in her shoulder and press his forehead into the dip between her neck and shoulder.
"Hermione?" he whispered and she felt his breath through her thin shirt on her breast and had to bite down on her lip to keep from exhaling with want. She leaned her cheek against his soft ginger hair in response to her name. "I can't ever lose you," he muttered so softly that she almost missed it.
"You don't ever have to, you know," she sighed out and felt her heart rate speed up painfully. They'd never gotten this close to hinting at the idea of marriage before.
"God, I hope not," he nuzzled her shoulder before leaned back to look at her. Ron opened his mouth to say something and Hermione's lungs seemed to get instantly more shallow. "I love you. And Hermione," she held her breath, "I will for as long as you will let me." He put both arms on her shoulders and pushed her backwards, climbing over her and preoccupying her lips before she could tell him she wanted him forever.
Ron had pushed her backwards on her comforter and covered her body quickly with his own, grinding himself between her legs. She gasped at how ready he suddenly was and opened her lips for him to kiss her more deeply. Her body arched up, pressing and offering itself up to Ron of its own accord. One of his strong hands wound in her wild, sleep-tangled hair, pressing her harder to his lips and plunging his tongue into her mouth. Chills shot down her spine as evidence of his desire rubbed against her again. She exhaled, quivering against his soft lips. Suddenly she knew she needed more, needed to be closer to him and she reached for the elastic of his boxers. He hit her hand away and she broke off their kiss to look at him.
"I want to do -," he broke off and she could see him redden in the moonlight. "I want to, for you," he said and brought a hand down to tied bow of her pajama shorts and his intention was clear. She was at once embarrassed, scared, excited, and turned on all in the same instant. After their first few fumbling attempts, she and Ron had grown into a fairly comfortable physical relationship. They'd seen each other naked a few times in darkened rooms, nurtured their ability to please each other by touch alone. One time he'd kissed down her scar from Dolohov but she'd been too embarrassed to let him go down farther and had pulled him back up. That'd been almost a month ago and he'd never tried it again. She knew he was letting her control the pace of it all but she always felt he'd find her too wanton or sluttish when she thought about being the one to make the moves to further things between them. She quaked under him from a heady mix of nerves and desire as he pulled off her shorts, leaving her in her tank and knickers. Hermione could tell he was undressing her slowly to give her time to say no. She bit her lip to keep from doing so.
The ardent gaze pouring from his eyes overwhelmed every thought that skittered across her mind and Hermione bowed up to meet his lips, closing her eyes and letting the feeling of Ron's hands on her body pulling her closer to him. His fingers dragged down her arms. His right hand was slightly rougher than his left on her skin, Hermione knew instantly it was from using his wand, practicing spells for work. He released her lips and she felt his hands work under the thin straps of her tank, pulling them down her arms. She opened her eyes as he dragged her now-strapless top down. Ron smirked a tiny bit as he trailed his hands and her top and knickers down and off. Hermione struggled not to feel ashamed and not to cover herself from his eyes as he tossed the flimsy fabric to the side and nudged her knees apart with his hands. Her face flamed as she saw him dip his head to kiss up her thigh, she gasped when she felt his mouth on her most intimate parts.
Minutes later when Hermione had finally quit trying to snap her legs together in embarrassed nervousness she gave in to the strange and wonderful sensations. She shook apart violently, arching against Ron and crying out disjointedly in the predawn darkness. Ron caressed her thighs briefly before raising his face, dragging his hand across his mouth and smirking. She forgot to be ashamed and grinned at him before pulling his mouth to hers. His body pressed down on hers and she felt the firm bulge on her inner leg through his thin boxers. She reached down to him and relished every noise he made because of her. She pressed on his chest and he let her push him onto his back and she felt her heart resume racing ahead of her and her cheeks going bright red as she thought about what she was about to do. She leaned down and let her hair trail along his stomach. Ron gasped and Hermione felt a surge of lusty power. She leaned down and returned the favor she had just received.
After their revealing exploration of each other that morning, Hermione and Ron reluctantly parted in the lift with an extra squeeze of their hands. Odette was talking to a woman standing just outside the lift, speaking to a tan skinned man that Hermione didn't recognize. Odette motioned her over when Hermione's eyes met Odette's brown pools.
" - and this is my co-worker, Hermione Granger," Odette said, indicating Hermione.
She quickly extended her arm at the stranger who took it quickly. His robes were white with strange embroidery and stitching.
"Rivlin Qardish," he took her hand and shook it, smiling congenially. He had a thick, lilting accent.
"Mr. Qardish is visiting from the Bangladesh Ministry. He works there in their equivalent of our department. Mr. Qardish was telling me about his work tracking the sea movements of Makara," Odette said, filling in blanks of information. She turned to smile stiffly at Hermione and gritted her next words through her teeth, "Grayson is running a bit behind today."
Hermione lifted her eyebrows and was about to propose giving Grayson a tour when Conway stepped off the next elevator.
"Odette, Conway could give Mr. Qardish a tour of the Department if Mr. Qardish was interested - " Hermione offered quickly. Odette grinned back.
"Oh yes, very much," Qardish said. Hermione walked off and heard Odette and Conway start discussing the tour. Served Conway right for always flirting and wasting her time. She smirked the rest of the way to her desk.
Post came to her desk, she'd finally given in and subscribed to the Daily Prophet sometime in early July, a note from Grayson, and a note from Erasmus dropped onto her desk. Erasmus was telling her to meet him outside at their back gate at seven o'clock. She turned the note over in her hand, she looked for any sign that something was wrong but his handwriting didn't reveal anything else. He'd usually just walked to the empty lot beside their house and paced around the edge of their wards around the backyard until she came out. Harry had tried to go out one time the week after his birthday and forgot to remove the new Caterwauling Charm before stepping through their wards, setting it and Erasmus off instantly. Erasmus had demanded Harry never come out to speak again if he couldn't manage to get the 'stealth' part of his Auror training under control.
Grayson's note told her that she and Odette needed to finish their current revision of the Goblin rights bill for him to look over by next Tuesday. LaFoe had evidently slated it to appear before the Wizengamot for their vote on September 1st. The bill had become a mountainous task for Hermione and Odette. They'd had to request a third desk to keep all the reference materials they constantly needed out on. Her palms started sweating when she counted it all down. 17 more days to go. Her throat seemed to drop down into her stomach and she reached for the Daily Prophet to scan it and organize her thoughts.
Page one declared the near completion of the restoration of Hogwarts. Page two had a small article on Dawlish. He'd been convicted and sentenced to 5 years in Azkaban. Page three featured a large article about the Ministry's on-going efforts to redeem itself for the Muggle-born Registration Commission. A picture of Dolores Umbridge looked out of the page haughtily, angry almost. Hermione scanned the article for key words and saw 'collecting' , 'against', 'crimes', and 'Dolores Umbridge' dangerously close to one another and slowed down.
The Ministry of Magic continues its internal mission to continue collecting evidence against members of the Ministry that committed crimes against Muggle-borns under the guise of fulfilling requirements of the Muggle-born Registration Commission under Dolores Umbridge.
Hermione looked down at the page and smiled grimly. Finally. Surely somewhere along the line they'd find that Umbridge herself had falsified court records and lied in court proceedings. Perhaps they could help testify or something against her. . . It made her suddenly wonder about Reg and Mary Cattermole. Had they gotten out? Their kids? She didn't remember ever hearing anyone mention them after their trip into the Ministry last fall.
"Nice one, Hermione. Real classy," Conway muttered as he approached her desk. She turned to him and grinned.
"You're always over here at my desk, imposing on my precious time. I never have had the pleasure of coming to your desk with the sole purpose of wasting your time - "
"Plus, you're a git," Odette finished, teasing.
"Tosser," he narrowed his eyes at Odette and then Hermione. "Tossers," he amended, "plural," and turned on his heel and walked off.
Odette pulled her hair up into a bun and Hermione twisted hers out of the way in a messy clump and stuffed her wand through it. They attacked the bill for the rest of the day with an exhausting, ferocious determination.
Odette cut out of work a few minutes early that afternoon and Hermione grabbed the wand holding her hair up as the chime on a clock nearby struck five. She shook and tossed her curls out and stretched her arms toward the ceiling, rocking back and forth on her feet to elongate her stiff arms and legs.
"Bloody hell, Hermione, if I knew this is what I was missing when you're working down here every day, I'd be in your department."
Hermione smiled and turned to find Ron and Harry both standing a few feet behind her. Ron looked appreciative of the view. Harry was looking up at Ron with a look that clearly said he did not feel appreciative in the slightest of Ron's comment.
"Hi," she leaned up to give Ron a quick peck. The morning came rushing back and she dropped back down from her tip toes and cleared her throat. "Hey, Harry," she said and he smiled at her. "Let me just grab my cloak and purse and we'll go."
She turned and grabbed the newspaper and Erasmus's note off of her desk and started to leave.
"Um, Hermione?" Ron asked, surveying the cluster of three desks that were swimming in files and papers. "Shouldn't you - "
"Oh, no. Been like this for days," she said looking at it. The heaps and stacks made her pulse quicken and made her feel claustrophobic . "It's in the final stages though," she said as Ron took the note from her and read it. "So after that, I'm looking forward to taking all that clutter and setting it on fire."
They piled into the full lift and a man with a brutally strong jaw and close cropped black hair that was receding from his hairline stepped forward to them, gently nudging a young wizard out of his way.
"Potter, Weasley," the man started and waited for them to turn. "We've just been at Magical Transportation, we've got a six o'clock Portkey to a section of Victoria where Ryth Ware's - you know that Death Eater that attacked the Hash Family: Ridley, his wife Wisteria, and their three girls - well that's where his parents live. Harding and Parnell said you two could come and gain some integration experience under myself and Silvestri, alright?" The man who Hermione knew now was an Auror looked from Harry and Ron awaiting their answer.
"Sure," Harry answered.
"Yeah, absolutely," Ron said quickly, "six o'clock?" She noticed a resigned note in Ron's voice.
"Yeah, six. Won't be any big hoopla. We're pretty sure he's not around but we want to ask his parents a few question. Just standard stuff," the Auror said, stepping back as Harry and Ron nodded and the lift pitched to a stop.
The three of them reached the Floo as Hermione turned over the Auror's - Ron whispered that it was Russell - words. 'Pretty sure he's not around' rattled around horribly in her brain. They could be walking into a Death Eater's house. A Death Eater who had five confirmed deaths. She felt a hard beat of her heart as Ron cupped an arm under her elbow to guide her into the hearth and the three of them sped off in a flash of green back to their house.
"We should name it something other than our address," Harry pointed out as they siphoned ash off of their robes.
"I know, I hate having to whisper it to try to keep other people from hearing us," Ron said, unbuttoning his robes to reveal his strong body underneath an almost too-small white undershirt. Hermione shook her head to clear her worries from Auror Russell's words and her hungry assessment of Ron's chest under that shirt.
"The Lair?" Harry offered and then muttered, "no, we've tried that before haven't we. . . um . . . Yellow house?"
"'Yellow house'? 'Yellow House' is horrible, mate," Ron said, dropping into one of the arm chairs sloppily. Hermione smiled down at him lopsidedly, sliding out of her robes and revealing her patterned skirt and blue top. Ron eyed her legs and waggled his eyebrows at her ridiculously as she lay down on the couch. Harry collapsed to lay on the rug and chuckled.
"Well, present some options then," Harry said, staring up at the ceiling.
"Um, right," Ron said, hesitating. "What about that Fort Solitude-thingi?'
Hermione laughed this time. "We cannot name it after Superman's lair. And before you suggest it Harry, I'm ruling out Batcave."
"Wasn't gonna," he said and turned to look up at her around the edge of the coffee table. "Didn't care for Batman as much."
"Really?" That surprised her. She had actually always rather admired Batman before she'd gotten her Hogwarts letter because he didn't have strange magical power that couldn't be explained. She liked him and Ironman because they created their powers from real things. They had realistic powers and talents. Of course, when she'd found out she was a witch she'd reevaluated superheroes in their entirety. The entire world got a bit smaller and at the same time more mysterious when you had powers of your own. "Alright, then. . . X-Mansion?" They had magical powers that they had no control over . . .
"What in all of hell are you two talking about?" Ron asked them both.
"Muggle comic books? Remember we told you about Superman?" Harry said, tilting his head to look back. "Maybe we should leave the Muggle references alone, Hermione."
"Alright, then what is a place we always feel safe in?" Hermione said, hoping to insight brainstorming. Ron and Harry stayed silent and she shifted to lay on her side. "Well?"
"Home?" Harry said and then frowned immediately, realizing the problem with that. Too generic, it could get guessed too easily.
"The pitch?" Ron said. It was slightly better than home but she scowled at him.
"I'm not naming it something like 'the pitch'. If you call it 'the pitch' then I'll call it 'The Library' and we'll just be done with that." She flung herself to lay on her back again and look up at the ceiling.
"You might be onto something there," Harry said, sitting up. "Who would name their house after another type of place? Could we alter our Floo registration to say 'The Library'?"
"What? No - somebody could guess that, couldn't they?" Hermione asked, sitting up. "I'm always in it at Hogwarts, they could guess it too easily."
Harry snapped his fingers and grinned. "The Forbidden Forest." He paused for effect and looked at both of them in turn. "Seriously, who in their right mind would ever guess it?"
"But that's dreadful dull, maybe . . . "
"What about Oz?" Hermione suddenly thought, "Yellow brick house? Yellow brick road? Magical Wizard and a group of rag-tag, misfit friends?"
"The Oz?" Harry asked, she could tell he didn't hate it.
"No just Oz. Is that too weird? I've always liked that movie."
"I could do that then," Ron agreed and Hermione heard him smiling as he said it.
"Alright, fine," she exhaled. "I'll turn in the change in name from our address to 'Oz' tomorrow. It's better than any of our other options, I guess. I'll owl everyone that already knows it anyway. I guess we should've done that before, then?"
They both hummed their agreement. She glanced at the clock - Harry's birthday clock. Ron, Hermione, Harry, Neville, Bill, Fleur, Luna, and Teddy were home. Ginny, Molly, and Arthur were at the Burrow. Hagrid was at Hogwarts. George was at work. They still had two tines they were waiting to name. Harry hadn't suggested any additional names yet and it wasn't really Hermione or Ron's place. It was good to know everyone was safe. She hoped the clock never had to use 'Peril' to let them know where one of their loved ones was. Then she looked up at the clock that simply told the time and groaned as she pushed herself up off of the couch to go into the kitchen to make dinner.
Seven o'clock came around in the middle of their quickly thrown together dinner and Hermione pushed her chair back, strode out the back door, canceled the Caterwauling Charm, and walked through the wards and out to meet Erasmus. A split second later Erasmus was turning toward her out from behind some vegetation in the hot August evening.
"Hermione," he moved toward her and nodded his greeting. "Good to see you."
"And you as well. Got your note," she said, taking in his appearance. His hair was tucked behind his ear and the burn on his face caught the evening light strangely. The scar was the most prominent thing about him suddenly. Dangerous. Powerful. Harsh.
"Right, had to make sure it was you instead of one of those other two. Sometimes they're a bit slower than you, dear," he finished chuckling once at his insult of Harry and Ron. His comment ruffled her feathers but she swallowed her feelings and inclined her head at him. "Right. Ok," he pulled out a paper from the pockets of his robes and unfolded it, handing her a picture of a man. The man had a shaved head and deeply pitted eyes that sunk into his face enough to make him look corpse-like.
"Who is this?" she asked, looking from the frightening picture to Erasmus who had fixed his mouth into a dour line.
"That is Uther Fawe. He's been sighted around here - " Erasmus looked suspiciously around the empty lot. "And I'm worried he might come around you three if he finds that you're here. So try to keep the trips to the store and into town to a minimum. Maybe even get someone else to go for you three instead - you're all too recognizable." Erasmus was frowning down at her.
"He's really around here?" she felt like the darkness around them had grown sinister in the moments they'd been talking.
"Unfortunately, yes and he's, Hermione," she looked up to meet his serious face, "He's dangerous, unstable. Known for a particular brutality toward women if you understand my meaning."
"Oh. Oh." She understood, understood that if Erasmus was worried that they needed to be. "So get someone else to run around this area if that's possible, go in groups if that's not?"
He nodded at her and she made to hand him the picture back. "No, no, you keep that, Hermione, and do not come outside for any one that you don't know. Remember how Travers had that Polyjuice? Well we never discovered who those other cups belonged to, alright, so you could see a kid or an old lady. . . just - just keep a good eye out, yeah? Only come outside for me or someone you're sure that you know?"
"Alright, we will." Her nerves were jangling. She yanked on her sleeve to calm down. It was futile the sleeve was a short sleeve. Erasmus's eyes were drawn to her movement and he frowned at the scar carved on her forearm. She flinched as his eyes turned back up to hers and she read curiosity and something like pity there.
"Ok, good. We'll I've got my eyes on your place so be wary not nervous, yeah?" he said, turning away from her.
"Alright. Good night."
"Good night," Erasmus spoke as he walked away from her. He didn't turn around as he said, "and tell those two inside, ok?"
She told him she would.
