Well, happy new year to all of you!
Sorry for the delay but I've been enjoying my time with my family.
Enjoy!
Chapter 7
Family Secrets Are Not Meant to Be Disclosed
Next morning, both Harry and Ron were called by Gallory to a surprise meeting. At first they had believed he had devised a new way to punish them, but it turned out every Auror who had taken part in the investigation was called as well. The purpose: informing them all that they were going to press charges against Goyle and put him on trial. That very morning Gringotts had sent a copy of the vault records, giving them more evidence against him, even if it was still circumstantial.
"Today, experts from the Department of Mysteries are going to check him to confirm whether he's under an Unbreakable Vow or not. In it turns out he's not, then he'll be given Veritaserum. If he really is, then we'll use that against him."
"But Sir, if Goyle has been paid, then he is following orders and —" argued Harry.
"And we'll go after them in due course," replied Gallory, interrupting him harshly. "But since we arrested Goyle there had not been more attacks. He is the culprit, and he'll pay for it."
"But —"
"No 'buts,' Potter!" Gallory yelled. "You and Weasley have proven that, regarding this case, you can't be trusted at all. If you had done your work well, with the proper dedication instead of complaining, we could have stopped Goyle before he attacked Malbard!"
Harry seemed to want to reply and even opened his mouth but, in the last moment, he closed it and stayed quiet.
Satisfied that he had made Harry shut up, Gallory almost smiled as he turned to look at Ada. "I want to congratulate Auror Ladnus and her team for their work, though. Thanks to their idea of asking for Goyle's records, we have definite proof to send him to trial."
It was obvious, to Ron, that Gallory was really happy about this, and, as the icing on the cake, he had humiliated he and Harry, which — he suspected — was the only reason they were in this meeting.
Something deep inside him roared at the idea, wanting him to get angry. Certainly, a week ago he would have, but now … Was it because of what he knew about Gallory's past? Or maybe because, as he now felt somewhat detached from the Auror Office he no longer cared as much?
He felt Harry nudge him, and realised the meeting was over. They exited the meeting room and walked towards the cubicles.
"I think we should have said something about what we know," said Ron, feeling a bit guilty.
"But we have no proof, and you saw how Gallory acted when I tried to argue with him. He's blind to anything but sending Goyle to prison. We've just got rumours, Ron, nothing else."
"I know."
Harry checked his watch. "I've got to meet Sheila in half an hour. Do you mind if I give you company until then?"
"No. You can help me with those damned reports, even."
"I would never deprive you of that pleasure, I know how much you love them," Harry teased, and Ron grunted.
"Git," he muttered.
Harry let out a chuckle.
"At least you've got a predictable schedule," Harry commented. "Right now I don't know what hours I'll have to work tomorrow."
"Yes, well — Hermione," he said when they reached his cubicle. His fiancé was sitting on his chair, looking visibly upset. "Love, what happened?" he asked with worry, hurrying towards her. He crouched down before her and grasped her hands in his.
She just nodded towards his desk. Ron looked and saw a copy of the Daily Prophet lying on it. Harry, frowning, moved closer and grabbed it. "Skeeter's article?" he asked.
Hermione just nodded.
"What does it say?" asked Ron, getting up. Harry opened the newspaper, found the editorial, and they began to read
GRANGER'S (IN)EQUALITY LAW (II)
A STORY OF AMBITION
An editorial by Rita Skeeter
In the first part of this editorial, we revealed the darkest, most worrisome implications of the new 'Equality' law proposed by Hermione Granger. And we ended with a question: Who will benefit the most from a more Muggle-y Wizarding world?
In this second part we'll try to find and question to that.
As exposed previously, and as our readers surely know, Hermione Granger completed her seventh year at Hogwarts after the war and graduated with the highest qualifications. She enrolled in the Ministry immediately afterwards, starting what was going to be a meteoric career. In just four and a half years, she reached the position of Head of the Legal Office, which, in the new Ministry, centralises legislation work among other things. Without a doubt, a position of immense power for such a young woman.
Were anyone to ask about her career, most of the people questioned would define it as laudable, and would consider her a role model to imitate, as what she's got can only be achieved with intelligence, perseverance and hard work.
Of course, that's true. But it is not less true that one does not reach such a high position with just hard work and intelligence. One needs other things, like contacts and friends, and we've already established that Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister for Magic, is a friend of hers. Many people in the Ministry have declared, under anonymity, that Ms Granger is, in fact, Shacklebolt's protegé. She is also Harry Potter's best friend and soon-to-be sister-in-law, and, in the past, she hasn't hesitated in using Potter's name and influence to get some laws passed. Some would say that these things are normal in the political game, but many others would believe it shows that she's ready to do anything to achieve her goals, even using her friends and family.
And her readiness to use any means necessary leads us to another thing required to success and that she's got in spades: ambition.
I was, myself, a witness of Ms Granger's love games when she was only fifteen, toying with Harry Potter' and Viktor Krum's hearts. And though those relationships didn't go further, it proves that she knows how to get fame and notoriety by getting close to the right people. Of course, some would say she ended up engaged to Ronald Weasley, clearly the least remarkable member of the trio, indicating that she follows her heart and not her brain. But those saying such affirmations would miss a very important point: though the Weasley family held little power while the trio was at Hogwarts, that changed drastically after the war. Members of the Order of the Phoenix, the Weasleys are now publicly recognised as one of the most important families in Britain. Due to the large number of members, Ms Granger would, through her marriage to Ronald Weasley, be related to the Head of the Misuse of Magic Office (Arthur Weasley, her future father-in-law), the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister (Percy Weasley, a brother or Ronald's), important employees of Gringott's (William and Fleur Weasley, brother and sister-in-law), and successful entrepreneurs (George Weasley, owner of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes). And with the laws she worked to approve, she holds enormous popularity among House Elves, goblins and centaurs. This would give her access to lots of money through easy loans, and even to secrets of any family that dared to oppose her (as House Elves cannot be forced anymore to protect family secrets).
So, under the pretence of improving the Wizarding world, Hermione Granger has amassed an enormous amount of power, and yet that doesn't seem to be enough to quell her disproportionate ambition, which seems to have no bounds.
Though fearful to talk, many important Ministry officials have confessed to us that they know for a fact that Hermione Granger won't stop until she's the next Minister for Magic, as soon as Shacklebolt is ready to step down. She has supported him and his reforms through and through, and it's only logical that he will help her to be in a position of incontestable advantage to succeed him.
With this law, she will just consolidate the support for her ambition, as many people will be indebted to her.
I don't doubt that Granger can, despite her ambition, improve the living conditions of the Wizarding community. No, she's capable and intelligent. And maybe she wants to help, but, as many have declared, she believes herself to be more gifted and smarter than anyone else. I sought the opinion of fellow students at Hogwarts, though it was hard to get them to talk. However, when they did, they told us that she was self-righteous and unyielding, hating when someone got ahead of her in anything, and even treating anyone who disagreed with her as dumb or retarded. It seems that she thinks that her way is the only way, and history has often proved how dangerous that is, especially when in a position of great power. It is a fact that power corrupts, and the greater the power, the sooner it happens. Both Tom Riddle and Gellert Grindelwald once promised they were working for the sake of the Wizarding world, yet that turned into despotism and a bloodbath. Are we unknowingly following a similar path?
In the hands of our representatives is the power to stop that before it happens.
"Holy fuck …" muttered Ron, astounded.
"That cow," added Harry. He looked at Hermione. "Hermione, it's just Skeeter. She's written bullshit like this in the past. Why are you letting it affect you?"
"Don't you see it, Harry?" she almost yelled, her voice shaky. "She painted me as some sort of — of power-hungry tyrant! She compared me to Voldemort! To Voldemort!"
Ron knelt down in front of her and grasped her hands in his once more for support. "Are you afraid this will affect the voting?"
"Of course it will! She wrote it very carefully, don't you see? Oh, I am intelligent, and smart, and I can do good things, but as I do that, I get more and more power, which is what I secretly want, so I can improve things, but in my way, because I think everyone else is stupid. She's saying that it does not matter how much good I've done, in the end I'll end being a dictator that rule the country with an iron hand. This is the excuse many will need to vote against the law. Isolda Selwyn must be rubbing her hands in glee after reading this."
"But they gave you such a strong applause, Hermione. The Wizengamot is not composed of pureblood bigots anymore."
"No, but they won't go against the public opinion. And they can be persuaded, or paid, to vote against the law. Knowton and Kingsley are really worried."
"You've lost other votings in the past, and then insisted until they passed. Even if you lose on Friday — which, by the way, I don't think it'll happen — you'll get it approved in the end."
She didn't say anything for a bit, staring down at the floor. Then she raised her head to look into his eyes. "But I wanted to get this done so I could focus on our wedding; to enjoy what I've achieved so far and take things easy for a while."
"Hermione, the people who knows you won't believe a word Skeeter has written," assured Harry. "All those anonymous witnesses and such are just inventions."
"Not everyone likes me, Harry."
"Well, you can't expect that, right? But most people do."
"Perhaps," she conceded. "But what irks me the most is that she's implying I'm using you both to ascend. She described me as a cold-hearted, calculating bitch," she said, her eyes wet with tears.
Harry laughed. "Well, my name has been dragged through the mud before, Hermione."
"Yeah," nodded Ron. "I don't care about that, love. I know you're not using me for my impressive influence over the Wizarding world. I'm aware it's just for my outstanding performance in the sack," he finished, giving her his lopsided smile.
At this, Harry groaned, but Hermione laughed.
"It'll be fine, you'll see," Ron added softly, caressing her cheeks and brushing away her tears. Hermione nodded and leaned forwards to give him a kiss, then got up.
"Well, I've gotta go," announced Harry. He looked at Ron. "So what — are you up for visiting the Notts today?"
"Yeah, why not?"
"I'll see you at half-past five, then?"
Ron nodded.
Harry patted his shoulder and then hugged Hermione, pecking her on the forehead. "Shouldn't have done that," he said when they separated. "If anyone saw us there would be an article tomorrow saying you're having a threesome with both of us."
"Shit, Harry, don't joke with that!" exclaimed Ron, grimacing. Hermione, however, smiled.
"Thanks, to the both of you," she said fondly. "I've got to go back to work and do some damage control."
Ron and Harry nodded and she left.
"See you later, Mate." He glanced towards the pile of paperwork. "Have a, er — well, a nice day …"
"Yeah. I'll have loads of fun," whined Ron dejectedly.
Harry patted him on the back once more and left.
Ron spent his morning with his usual routine of paperwork, hating every minute of it. Yet his mind kept wandering to the shop, to new products he would like to develop and use, to new locations where they could open new shops … Wouldn't that be a million times better than this?
And yet, he had worked hard to get to where he was right now, and he liked to say that he was an Auror. He loved being an Auror. He liked working with Harry, or close to him, and just a few dozens of yards away from Hermione.
Shaking his head, he rubbed his face and tried to concentrate on those horrible, boring reports.
His day improved a bit when Hermione sent him a note telling him she needed some time off and asking him to meet her at the canteen at one for lunch. So, at ten minutes to one he left his cubicle and went to the Atrium. Hermione hadn't arrived yet, so he sat at a table and asked for pumpkin juice while he waited.
Five minutes later, he saw Hermione walking across the Atrium, accompanied by Knowton and Kingsley. The Head of the Department said something to them and walked away. Hermione and Kingsley moved towards the canteen and his table.
"Hi, Ron," said Kingsley, who, Ron noticed, looked quite tired.
"Kingsley," replied Ron. "Tiring week, eh?"
"You could say that," he said with a sigh. "How are you here alone? Where's Harry? At home?"
Ron shrugged. "I suppose he's having lunch with Sheila Jennings."
Kingsley frowned. "With Jennings? Why?"
"Well, he's now working with her," explained Ron a bit awkwardly.
"What do you mean he's working with her? He's your partner."
"Not anymore. Gallory — well, he separated us."
"What!? Why?" Kingsley asked, now clearly annoyed.
"Well, he thinks we did a very poor job in the case of the comatose victims. That we allowed Goyle to attack the last one when we could have prevented it."
"Isn't he going to trial?" he asked Hermione.
She nodded. "Yes, Mr Gallory presented the documentation today. Though evidence is not conclusive," she added. "In my opinion they should wait."
"Ron, Harry and you are two of the best Aurors in the Ministry. I won't let Gallory's prejudices affect the office. I'll talk to him and —"
"Please, don't," asked Ron, causing both Kingsley and Hermione to stare at him in disbelief. "Robards will come back and we'll talk to him. I don't want anyone saying we're getting preferential treatment. The last thing you need is Rita Skeeter publishing another article saying exactly that."
Kingsley grunted, though he couldn't really disagree with him. "I want to know all the details, and then we'll talk about this in the next staff meeting of the department. He checked his watch. I've got to go. See you."
They said goodbye to him and then Hermione sat down in front of Ron.
"To be honest, I didn't expect you to tell him not to say anything," said Hermione as she wrote her order in the magical parchment on the table.
Ron shrugged. "As I said, it's the last thing you need."
"Thank you, Ron."
Ron reached for her hand and squeezed it. "You've got a brilliant future at the Ministry, while I don't know if I'll be here next year."
"Ron …"
"It's true. I haven't decided anything, though. I like the idea of being an Auror, you know. Only that, lately, the idea does not match reality."
She nodded, understanding. Just then, two trays appeared in front of them, with their sandwiches and drinks. They started to eat.
"Anyway, do you know when the trial will be? I mean, the day," he asked after a couple of minutes.
"Next week, probably."
"I wanted to tell Gallory and the others about what we know — or well, suspect, but Harry thinks we shouldn't, that we've got no proof, just rumours."
"I agree with him," said Hermione. "What we found out fits, but there is so much we ignore about the whole thing."
"But they could investigate it," insisted Ron.
"Do you think Gallory will want to do that? To give credit to something you and Harry say?"
Ron shrugged. "Dunno. Probably not."
Hermione sighed. "That's highly unprofessional, of course, and that will have to be addressed. His prejudices, despite how legitimate they might be, may be harming the case. But, anyway, he's in command right now, so you need more information, Ron. And proof."
"Yes, yes, I know. Gallory won't take anything than can jeopardise Goyle's trial into account.
"You could talk to Ada Ladnus, though," suggested Hermione. "As I said, the evidence against Goyle is weak. They will need more."
Ron looked at her, pondering it, and then nodded. "I'll see if she's at her cubicle and talk to her."
They fell silent for a bit, as they continued eating. Hermione's was the first to finish and, as she gulped down the rest of her juice, Ron spoke again.
"How's been your day so far? Besides, you know — the article."
Hermione shrugged. "It was rather horrible, to be honest. Kingsley is going to release another press note about it. But I noticed several people giving me strange looks today. More than a few were members of the Wizengamot. I expected that, I suppose, as I don't know them very well. But others were people with whom I've worked for months, Ron. And I won't lie to you — that hurts. More than I like to admit."
"Shit, Hermione, I'm sorry. Fuck, don't those wankers know everything Skeeter writes is worth less than hippogriff dung?"
"Maybe they want to believe it, or, in some cases, it suits their interests. Remember what happened to Harry at Hogwarts: people were as eager to worship him as to believe anything bad about him. People likes to see heroes fall, Ron."
"Yeah, but why? What do they gain from that?"
Hermione smiled sadly. "It makes them feel better about themselves, I suppose."
Ron scoffed. "Idiots."
"I know, but that's the way it is," she sighed, and then checked her watch. "Merlin, it's so late! I've really got to go, Ron. Hopefully I'll be home by the time you come back. Good luck with the Notts."
"Thank you. Don't think too much about this, okay?" he asked her. And though she nodded before giving him a quick peck on the cheek and practically ran out of the canteen, Ron knew that the possibility of her not thinking too much was the same of him passing an Arithmancy exam.
Ron had finished his sandwich and had asked for some Yorkshire pudding when his father walked in, talking animatedly with another wizard. He saw Ron and a grin broke into his face. He told the other wizard something and then approached him, sitting on the chair Hermione had vacated just five minutes before.
"Hi, Son. You alone?"
Ron nodded. "Had lunch with Hermione, but she had to go back to work."
His dad nodded gravely. "Yes, nasty business, that article. Rita Skeeter …" He shook his head. "You should have heard your mother this morning. I'm surprised she didn't send The Prophet a howler."
"Shame," said Ron. "She did really upset Hermione."
"I know. Saw her an hour ago."
"Do you want something to eat? I'm already finishing, but —"
"Oh, don't worry, Son. I'll have lunch with Waylan," he said, nodding towards the wizard with whom he had come. "How've you been, Ron?"
Ron knew he was asking about his job, but, before answering the question, another, more pressing matter came to his mind.
"Dad … What do you know about your great uncle Sarmonius?" he asked gravely.
At once, his dad's expression changed. "Your Aunt Muriel told you about him, right?"
Ron nodded. "Is — is it true? That he and his wife were pureblood fanatics? That they killed those Muggles?"
His dad took off his glasses and began to clean them before answering.
"If you want the truth, Son, I can't give it to you. He was stranded from the family, so I never met him. I knew my grandfather and him weren't close, and one day they had a big row and never talked again. For what I gathered, yes, he was a supporter of Pureblood supremacy. Whether he and his wife were guilty of those murders, though — I don't know."
Ron nodded, feeling even worse.
"But you shouldn't feel bad about that Ron, it has nothing to do with you."
"But I always though us Weasleys were against that bullshit!"
"Son, no family is perfect. What does it matter if your great-great-uncle was a bad person? Don't forget that my mother, your grandma, was a Black. Most of her family were Dark wizards, including her own parents, your great-grandparents. But that has nothing to do with who you — or I, or any of your siblings — are."
"Oh," said Ron, a bit shocked. He hadn't thought about that.
His dad got up and walked around the table to put a hand on his shoulder. "Forget about it, Son."
He just nodded. "Thank you, Dad."
"See you."
He watched his dad walk away towards Waylan and then got up to go back to work.
Upon entering the Auror Office, he walked to Ada's cubicle and, luckily, she was in there.
"Have you got a minute?" he asked her.
"Yes, but no more," she told him. "What's up?"
Quickly, Ron told her that the three victims were, most surely, related to the Notts, though they had been raised in other families or the orphanage, and that they should look for someone that wanted revenge on them. Someone that, most surely, had been close to them in the past.
Upon finishing, Ada stared at him open-mouthed. "Where does that information come from?"
"Let's say one of my aunts likes to make everyone's business her own," Ron explained.
"So — rumours?"
"Yeah," Ron admitted, "but, as you see, it all fits. If that were true, it would explain why those three victims were chosen."
"Yes, it woulds, but — why didn't the Notts say anything, then? If they're being attacked …" she trailed off.
"They abandoned their own children, Ada. They wouldn't, ever, admit a squib and the son of a Muggle are related to them. But you could request that they be subjected to a Blood-Checking Spell, to confirm if it is true or not."
Ada thought about it, though she looked doubtful. "I'm very busy preparing the documentation for the trial, 'cause I'm meeting Tom Ackerly in an hour to revise it with him. And right now, a couple of witches from the Department of Mysteries are with Goyle, but I'll see what I can do. After all, we haven't got other clues."
Ron nodded. "Just take that into account, okay?"
"I will. Thanks, Ron."
With a nod, Ada left, a thick folder under her arm. Ron watched her for a few seconds and then went back to his cubicle and his never-ending pile of reports.
After another boring afternoon, Ron finally left his cubicle to meet Harry at his cubicle, but he was not in there. He waited for ten minutes, but, bored and not wanting to spend more time in the Auror Office, he wrote him a quick note to tell him he would wait at the Atrium. He left it on top of his desk and walked out of the department. He was approaching the lifts when one of them opened and Harry stepped out, accompanied by Elton Chowks. Harry looked at him with a frown.
"Where are you going? Did you forget we were going to meet after work?" he asked.
"I'm not daft, Harry. I just left you a note telling you I'd wait in the Atrium."
"Sorry for the delay. We were going to leave but there was an altercation in Diagon Alley."
"Another pair of drunks?" asked Ron, walking back with both Aurors.
"Someone attacked Astoria Malfoy," said Chowks, talking for the first time.
"Really? Who? Didn't you arrest him?"
"No. We heard people yelling and ran, but our help wasn't needed — she had already hexed her attacker."
"Did she?" asked Ron.
"Yeah," nodded Harry. "She seems weak, Astoria, but she looks rather fierce when angry."
"What about the criminal?"
"They were covered by large cloak and a hood, so we don't know who they were. Probably a man, due to their size and height, but we're not sure. Anyway, when they saw us approaching, they Disapparated," explained Harry.
"She didn't know who they were, either?"
"No. She told us she was about to enter Gringotts when this person shot a curse at her. It cut her on the cheek, but she was able to defend herself against the next hex and then counter-attack," responded Chowks.
"We need to file a report on the incident and then we can get going," declared Harry. "Do you mind?" he asked Ron. "It'll be quick."
"Nah."
"Do you believe her when she said she was attacked out of the blue?" asked Ron once they were in Harry's cubicle and he was writing the report. "I mean, she's a Malfoy."
"Other witnesses confirmed that," said Chowks. "Apparently, the man was waiting for her. Some people remembered him leaning against a wall near the bank."
"Maybe he was just waiting for someone rich," suggested Ron.
"Umh," said Harry, doubtful. "If they wanted money, it would be more logical for them to wait until she came out, don't you think?"
"Yeah, right," nodded Ron. "He was waiting especifically for her, then? How did they know she was going to go to Gringotts?"
"She usually comes to Diagon Alley on Tuesdays, apparently," said Harry.
"It was quite daring of them, attacking like that in broad daylight," commented Chowks.
"The Malfoys don't have much of a social life," Harry told them. "And Diagon Alley is more accessible than Malfoy Manor."
"I wonder who they were," said Chowks, his expression thoughtful.
"Someone that hates the Malfoys," suggested Ron. "Which means it could be anyone."
"But Astoria is not really a Malfoy," said Harry as he signed the report.
"Well, she married one," replied Ron, shrugging. "I wonder why the hell anyone would want that, though. Probably her family wanted her to marry a pureblood."
"I had never talked with her before, but she didn't seem to be the kind of person who does someone else's bidding just because," said Harry.
"Yeah, she looked rather fiery," confirmed Chowks. Ron doubted anyone would want to marry Malfoy if not asked, but he shrugged. He didn't remember her from Hogwarts, but she was, after all, a Slytherin. Her sister Daphne hadn't been as bad as Pansy Parkinson or Millicent Bulstrode, but she was always with them and used to laugh at Pansy's jokes about him and his friends, especially the ones directed at Hermione.
"Anyway, we're done here," declared Harry when Chowks had stamped his own signature on the parchment. "Do you mind filing this? Ron and I have an errand to run."
"Not at all," answered Chowks, getting up.
"Don't forget to send a copy to her, in case she wants to make an official report," added Harry. "Not really necessary as we've witnessed it, but who knows? The last thing we need are the Malfoys speaking to the Prophet and saying we're letting people attack them and doing nothing in return."
Ron scoffed. "Many would cheer for the attacker," he commented.
"I know, but there's always people that would use that against us, even if secretly they don't mind. And we're Aurors, after all."
"Don't worry, I'll do that. See you tomorrow," said Chowks and then left.
"Shall we, then?" asked Harry, looking at Ron.
"Yeah," nodded Ron. Thew took a lift to the Atrium, where they would Disapparate. However, before they could, they were surrounded by a swarm of reporters, and, among them, Rita Skeeter in person.
"Harry, dear! Long time without seeing you! And Ronald Weasley as well. Isn't it —?"
But Ron didn't let her finish. The moment he heard her voice, his blood boiled and he advanced towards her, red with fury.
"YOU!" he bellowed, causing everyone in the Atrium to look at them. "You, lying snake! How dare you write such lies about Hermione?"
Skeeter retreated a bit, looking afraid, but, when Harry grabbed Ron's arm, she recomposed quickly. "I get you read my editorial, Mr Weasley."
"You call that load of shit an editorial?" Ron exclaimed. "I can't understand why The Prophet keeps publishing your trash, after how many times your stories have been proven false!"
"You deny then that she's trying to set the foundations to run for Minister?" asked another reporter. Ron shot him a death glare sow intense the man recoiled at once, looking away.
"Well, if you've got so angry, I must be spot on," continued Skeeter, smiling. "I understand your anger. I'd be mad as well if I had realised my fiancé is only using you for my contacts —"
"HOW DARE —?" Ron shouted, reaching for his wand. Harry was quicker, though, and grabbed him, pulled him away from Skeeter and placed himself between Ron and her.
"Ron, calm down!"
"Calm down!? Calm down!? Did you hear what she said? You're nothing but a liar, Skeeter! A liar and a disgrace!" Ron shouted over Harry's shoulder.
"Let me take care of this, please, don't give her the satisfaction to see how much her lies affected you."
Ron just grunted, but, when Harry released him, he stood in the same spot, folding his arms and scowling.
Harry turned round to face the reporters. "I've known Hermione for thirteen years," he said in a loud voice, "and if I could tell just one thing about her, it would be that she's the kindest, most honest and most caring person I've ever met. She's pushing this law because it's the right thing to do, and she'd do it even if it harmed her. I've seen her do the right thing even if it turned bad for her, and that hasn't changed. If her career here is soaring is due to her hard work, her intelligence and her integrity. She saved my life more times than I can count, and I won't have anyone badmouthing her in this way. She's never used me. If I've publicly supported the laws she's written it's because I believe in them, and, just for your information, she never asked me to; it was always I the one to offer my help."
At this, Ron nodded, very grateful for Harry's words.
"Very interesting, Harry," said Skeeter in a false, happy voice. "If you didn't mind answering a few questions, maybe we could show the public what you see in her. You obviously care about her a lot."
"Of course I do, she's like the sister I've never had and my best friend. And no, I won't answer any of your questions, as you'll only twist my words to harm us. Why don't you instead answer the questions for a change? Like telling us all what's behind this campaign against the Equality Law. Who's paying you?"
Every pair of eyes in the Atrium focused on Skeeter, who tried to ignore it, smiling condescendingly at Harry. "The Prophet pays me, Harry. I'm a journalist."
Ron scoffed. "You wouldn't write the truth even under the influence of Veritaserum, Skeeter!"
At this, some of the other reporters snickered. Rita flushed.
"Well, you never answer my questions or help me do my job, I must seek the truth through other sources. But if you let me get close …" she trailed off. "For instance, I know Witch Weekly is very interested in an article about your wedding. If I could attend and —"
"Are you insane!?" shouted Ron. "I wouldn't let you attend to my wedding even if my own life depended on it!"
"This is enough," intervened Harry, raising his voice. "We said what we had to say. Now, if you don't mind, we've got to go."
The reporters fell silent for a moment, but, as they walked away, they began to fire questions again, though Rita didn't say another word. Harry ignored them, however, and, grabbing Ron's arm, he Disapparated them both, Apparating them again on the lane that led to the Notts'.
"Thanks, Mate," said Ron as they began to walk. "I should have kept my composure but fuck, just seeing her in there drove me mad."
"Yeah, I noticed," said Harry with a grin. "Don't worry, Mate, I understand. She's nothing but a viper. And you haven't got to thank me, I said nothing but the truth."
"Well, that thing about Hermione never asking you for your support was stretching the truth a bit."
"It just happened once, and just because I could talk about Dobby. I would have done it anyway."
"Yeah, I know."
The kept walking towards the iron gates that gave access to the Notts' state. It was in Wiltshire, not very far from Malfoy Manor, in fact. Many old families lived in this area, and though there wasn't a Wizarding village, if was the oldest Wizarding settlement in Britain. In fact, Ron realised, they were relatively close to Southampton, where St Michael's orphanage was.
The moment they approached the gates, they heard a voice asking, "State your names and your purpose."
"Friendly," commented Ron with a scoff.
"Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, Aurors. We're here in an official mission for the Ministry of Magic."
The voice didn't say anything else, but, a minute later, the gates opened and they walked towards the house. The garden was smaller than his Aunt Muriel's or the Malfoys', though the manor was as impressive as the latter, but less ominous. Or maybe it was that Malfoy Manor had looked more menacing simply due to the circumstances in which they had gone there.
The front doors of the house opened as they approached them and Theodore Nott appeared before them.
"Potter and Weasley. What a surprise," he commented, not bothering to hide the fact that he wasn't pleased to see them.
"Nott," said Harry in greeting. "I thought you lived in London now?"
The question caught Theo by surprise, but he got himself together quickly and just shrugged. "I came to spend a few days with my family, as these are difficult times for us, with my cousin still out cold," he explained, though Ron knew that he was lying.
"Of course," accepted Harry, though Ron knew he hadn't believed Nott, either. "In any case, we need more information regarding that attack."
"Why? I believed the Ministry had already caught the culprit? You arrested Goyle, didn't you?"
"He's under arrest, yes though he's not the one behind all this."
At those words, Nott furrowed his brows. "Anyway, we already gave that Auror, Ada Ladnus, all the information we had."
"Maybe, maybe not; we'll be the judges of that," replied Ron. "May we go in? It's rather cold out here."
Theo shrugged. "I suppose," he said, and turned his back on them. Ron and Harry shared a look and followed him. The door closed on itself once they were inside, and they let their former classmate lead them towards the large drawing room. It had a high ceiling, from which two immense chandeliers hanged, and a series of couches and armchairs arranged in a rectangle facing the large fireplace.
Nott nodded towards one of the couches, and then sat down on one of the armchairs. He didn't offer them a drink or anything else. Not that they would have accepted, but still.
"Are you alone?" asked Harry once they were sitting down.
"Why?"
"I don't know, Nott," said Ron sarcastically. "Maybe because we want to talk to other members of your family?"
Nott threw him a glare.
"The questions we have refer to many years ago," explained Harry calmly. "We'd like to talk to Anticus, your grandfather."
Theo frowned. "My grandfather is old, Potter, and what happened to Isabelle has weakened him. He rarely leaves his chambers these days, and I'd like you to leave him alone."
"What do you know about a man called Robert Notte?" Harry blurted out suddenly, hoping to catch Theodore by surprise.
"I've never heard that name," he responded firmly, not showing any sign that he might be lying. "Who's he? Is he related to that Muggle woman that was attacked before my cousin?"
"He's the father of the first victim, yes."
"Why would I know anything about a Muggle?" he asked, as if the idea were simply ridiculous.
"I get you've noticed the similarity between your surname and theirs?"
"And so what?"
"We're wasting time," intervened Ron, who was getting impatient. "We've got reasons to believe the Nottes are related to your family. We need to talk to your grandfather, or your aunt or uncle. Are they here or not?"
"I —" started to say Nott, but, just in that moment, another man, apparently in his fifties, walked into the drawing room through another door. He froze on the spot upon seeing Harry and him.
"What — what are you doing here?" he asked, looking nervous. "Theodore?" he asked, though he kept glancing at Harry. Ron frowned, finding his behaviour rather suspicious.
"We have some questions regarding the attack your —" Harry started to say, but he interrupted himself to ask, "You are Amadeus Nott, aren't you? Isabelle's father?"
"I am," he said in a guarded tone.
"Could you answer some questions, please? Your nephew hasn't been very collaborative."
"You're not the Aurors in charge of the case regarding my daughter," he replied with evident hostility.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "We're following another line of investigation, Mr Nott. I imagine you want the culprit, or culprits, caught and punished and, for that to happen, we need your help. Maybe you can tell us what your nephew can't."
Amadeus glanced at Theodore, who remained completely expressionless. Then he looked at Ron and Harry again and sat down on another armchair.
"I already told that Auror I don't know anything."
"I'm sure she asked you about any enemies you could —"
"She did, yes, and well, we must have lots of them, mustn't we?" he snapped. "We're a rich pureblood family, Potter. And my brother, Theo's father, is in Azkaban, accused of being a Death Eater, as you very well know."
"He is in Azkaban because he was a Death Eater," replied Ron rather harshly, earning a glare from Theodore. "I saw him with my own eyes at the Battle of Hogwarts, so let's not pretend he is an innocent imprisoned unjustly."
"Anyway, we're not here to talk about Callum specifically," said Harry, trying to bring some peace. "I meant in general."
Still frowning, Amadeus said, "As I told you, I imagine we've got lots of enemies, but my daughter wasn't the only one attacked, was she?"
"What do you know about a man named Robert Notte, Mr Nott?" asked Harry without more preamble.
"Nothing," said Amadeus, crossing his arms. "Is he related to that Muggle?"
"Her father, yes."
"Well, I know nothing about any of them. You should be out there doing your job instead of questioning us about Muggles, even ones whose surname is so similar to ours," replied Amadeus.
"Maybe your father knows more," suggested Harry, ignoring the jibe.
"Why would he?"
"Maybe he knows something about that family he never bothered telling any of you," interjected Ron. "This would go much more quickly if we could talk to him — or your older sister."
"What would my sister know anything if I don't?"
"Mr Nott, we're growing weary of these games. Ask her to come, or we'll come back with an order."
"We are an old family, Potter, and despite the changes that Muggleborn girlfriend of his," he added, pointing at Ron, "is pushing, we don't let anyone threaten us, and much less the likes of you."
Ron, glaring at him, got up. "What do you mean by that, 'the likes of you'?" he asked, his tone menacing. "And you'd better hold your tongue when you talk about Hermione, if you know what's good for you. Now, where is your sister?"
"I haven't got to —" started to reply Amadeus, but was silenced by another, much softer voice.
"It's okay, Amadeus."
Ron and Harry turned their heads at once, and saw a tall, slim woman in the entrance of the room. She walked into the room and Ron couldn't help but notice how pale she looked, something accentuated by her long hair, which was as dark as her brother's and nephew's. She was in her fifties as well, and yet as she walked she looked older, as if tired of living; certainly, she didn't seem to be a 'lively' woman, as Aunt Muriel had said she had been once. She moved regally, though, with the same aristocratic demeanour as Narcissa Malfoy, though she seemed far nicer. Ron didn't feel towards her the same distaste he felt towards Theo and Amadeus, though, if their suspicions were true, she had abandoned her own child …
"You're Calista, aren't you?" asked Harry.
"I am," confirmed the woman.
"Calista —" began to protest Amadeus, but she silenced him by raising a hand.
"Amadeus, Theodore, leave us alone."
"But —" her brother protested.
"Now."
Theodore stood up at once. In fact, he looked eager to leave the room. Amadeus got up as well, reluctantly, but in the end did as his sister had asked, disappearing through the same door he had come in after throwing one last nervous glance at them.
"I must apologise for the behaviour of my brother. These are hard times for him, as you can imagine. And Theo … well, I guess you are not in the best of terms with him."
Harry nodded.
"Do you want something to drink? I wouldn't want anyone saying that the ancient customs of hospitality have been forgotten in the House of Nott."
"No, thank you," said Ron. Harry shook his head as well.
"Well, what do you want to know that your fellow Aurors hadn't asked before?"
Harry stared at the woman for a bit, studying her, or maybe considering how to approach the subject. "Ms Nott," he started at last, "we've got reasons to believe that, whomever is behind these attacks, is targeting your family."
Calista looked at them, unfazed. "Why would you think that? Only one of the victims is from our family, Mr Potter."
Harry fixed his eyes on her, not saying anything for a few seconds, and then said, very slowly, "I think all of us know, Ms Nott, that that is not true."
Calista raised an eyebrow. "Are you implying I don't know my family, Mr Potter? Or that you know it better? A bit presumptuous, I think, even for the man who killed the Dark Lord."
Harry didn't show any reaction to her words. He just said, "So you have never heard the name Robert Notte?"
"I have," she admitted. "When you asked my brother about him."
Ron observed her carefully, trying to detect a lie, but he noticed nothing. Though Harry had a better instinct for this, after years as an Auror he had developed a good sixth sense that told him when someone wasn't being truthful. So, either Calista wasn't, or she just had been lying for so many years she had assumed it as the truth.
"And the name John Malbard means nothing to you, either?" blurted out Harry. And then there was, so brief he could have imagined it: a flash of pain crossing her eyes.
"He's the last victim," said Calista, looking even more stone-faced than before. Too stone-faced, in fact. "Why would a Muggleborn mean anything to me?"
"You tell me," replied Harry. "Why would you visit him at St Mungo's, if he means nothing to you?"
This time she couldn't mask the surprise at Harry's statement, though she recovered very quickly. Ron was surprised at first, until he remembered the description of the supposed healer Mrs Smith had seen in his son's room. It hadn't been a detailed description, but Calista Nott fit perfectly in it. "I — I don't know what you mean. I've never visited him at St Mungo's" she denied.
"Mrs Smith, John Malbard's adoptive mother, saw you."
"I have never met that woman; how could she have told you I was in there, even if she saw me?" Calista argued, now acting defensively.
"She gave us a description, Ms Nott, and you match it perfectly. Were you at St Mungo's on Thursday evening? And don't bother denying it if it's true, we'll ask the healers."
"I was, to see my niece," she confessed. "Why would I go and visit that man?"
"Because he's your son, isn't he, Ms Nott?" revealed Harry. "A son you had with a Muggle; a son you had to give away to avoid destroying the reputation of your family among the purebloods and Voldemort supporters, a group in which your father belonged."
Calista seemed to have paled even more when she replied, "That's a lie! How dare you come into the house of my ancestors and insult me in such a way?"
"Stop it!" bellowed Harry, clearly tired of this game of secrets and lies. "Stop with the secrets and the pretences! Voldemort is dead, the world is changing. Nobody cares anymore! Lying only makes things worse for yourself, because whoever is doing this knows you and your secrets! It must be someone close to your family, and you know who they are!"
"Of course I know! It's Goyle! You have arrested him, have you? I know that just like everyone else in the country, thanks to the Prophet!"
"It's curious that, since we've come here, only your nephew has mentioned Goyle, until now," said Harry shrewdly. "Anyone else would have asked us why we are investigating when there's a person arrested. The only reason you hadn't is because he's not the one behind this, and you know it. The real culprit is out there, and that's the real reason Theodore is here and not at his flat, isn't it? You think you'll be safe in this mansion, protected by old, powerful magic."
Calista Nott opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it again, out of words. It was obvious, to Ron, that Harry was right. So why was she refusing to say anything? Were their family secrets worth the life of one of them? And then, suddenly, another, darker idea struck him: what if they didn't say anything because they wanted to retaliate? What if they were planning on settling this among them, quietly? Time ago, wizards settled their differences by duelling. Were they going to fight against the person — or people — behind this in a similar way?
"All you're saying, Mr Potter, are just theories based on rumours and with no foundation at all," replied Calista coldly. "I wanted to help you, but instead of trying to close this case, you are just throwing ridiculous accusations, and I'm growing weary of it. I must ask you to leave."
"So, according to you, it's just a coincidence that the first victim's surname is Notte, and the last one's is Malbard, the name of your paternal grandfather?"
"I don't know whether it's a coincidence or not, but those people have nothing to do with us."
Harry and Ron stared at her, but she just looked at the flames in the fireplace, her expression unreadable. And yet, Ron couldn't help but feel the sadness that emanated from her.
"If you really loved a Muggle, you believe that blood purity doesn't matter at all," said Ron after a bit, and she looked at him. "I'm about to marry a Muggleborn, Ms Nott, and there's nothing wrong with it. Why should I care if my children are pureblood or not? They'll be mine and hers. Is this stupid reputation worth your happiness? Is it worth the lives of your relatives? Of your own son?"
Calista looked back at the flames for a moment, thoughtful, but, when she turned her head to face them once more, she had back on the mask of a member of the pureblood nobility, and Ron knew for sure that, at least today, the secrets had won. She wouldn't say anything to them.
"I've got nothing else to say," she declared, her tone final.
Harry stared at her, and Ron knew he was searching for ways to get her to confess. But it would be useless, so he got up.
"We're going, then," he said.
Harry looked at him, silently asking what he was doing. Ron just shook his head a bit. Harry held his gaze for a moment, and then conceded defeat, getting up as well.
"We'll get to the truth, Ms Nott," declared Harry, looking at her. "I just hope that, when we do, it's not too late and you don't end up regretting your actions."
"Good night, Mr Potter, Mr Weasley; I get you can find the door," was the only response.
Ron and Harry left. When they were out of the property, Harry looked at Ron. "Why didn't you let me put her under more pressure?"
"She wasn't going to say anything, Harry, even if part of her wanted to."
"But we're right, Ron. You saw her face when I mentioned Malbard and the fact that she visited him."
"Yes, I know. He's her son, though I still don't understand how it fits with what the Smiths told us about John Malbard's adoption. By the way, good instinct there, Mate. I had practically forgotten about the woman Mrs Smith told us about."
Harry grinned. "Well, it just popped into my mind."
"Anyway," continued Ron, "she's been keeping this secret for more than thirty years, even to her own family. I doubt Theodore knows about her son. And maybe she doesn't know about Robert Notte."
"But they know who's behind this. What I said about Theodore living there to be safe is true."
"Yeah."
Harry shook his head. "We're so close," he said, frustrated. "So fucking close, Mate."
"Yeah. I'd like to grab them by the collars of their robes and shake them until they tell us the bloody truth, but Gallory would kill us and then Hermione would curse our corpses."
Harry let out a brief laugh, and then sighed. "Let's think about this and we'll talk tomorrow, okay?"
"Okay."
Harry patted him on the shoulder. "Good night, Ron," he said, and then Disapparated. Ron turned round for a moment, to look at the manor, and wondered how many secrets were buried between its walls. Then he Disapparated home.
"Hermione?" he asked as he Apparated in the hall. He looked in the living room, and, though the lights were on, she wasn't there. Listening, he heard a very soft music coming from upstairs. He went up to their bedroom and realised she had put on some sort of relaxing music, so she must be in the bathtub.
Taking off his robes and hanging them in their wardrobe, he opened the door to the bathroom, which was filled with steam. Hermione was resting in the large tub with her eyes closed, submerged in very hot water. The room was in almost darkness, the only light coming from a couple of floating candles that emitted just a faint glow. Ron stared at his girlfriend, drinking in her relaxed appearance. She had a glass of wine next to her, and Ron deduced her day had been complicated.
"Hermione?"
She opened her eyes, startled, and looked up at him. "Oh, Ron. Hi. I didn't hear you coming."
"I noticed," he said, smiling at her. "Hard day?"
She sighed and nodded. "A nightmare, actually," she said. "I needed to relax, so the moment I came home I just prepared a bath."
"And drinking to forget?" he asked, nodding to the glass, which was nearly empty.
Hermione turned her head to look at it. "It's the second one already, in fact."
Ron sat down on the border of the tub. "Do you feel better?"
"A bit," she said.
"Well, you can stay here and relax a bit more. I'll pop into the Leaking Cauldron and pick some take out for dinner."
"Sounds good, but I think I'd rather you took off your clothes and join me."
"Very tempting," he said, smiling, his eyes moving over her body, or rather, over where her body should be, as he couldn't see it due to the foam and bubbles covering her. "But I'm worn out today, Love. So, if you're thinking about some action …"
"No, I'm rather tired as well. But I need some cuddling with you in here."
"Okay then. Be back in a minute."
He went back to the room and divested himself. Then threw the dirty clothes into the laundry basket before joining Hermione in the tub.
"Shit, it's really hot, Hermione," he gasped as he put his right foot in.
"I know. Feels wonderful."
"Because you already got accustomed to it. Fuck, I'm going to boil my bollocks," he said as he lowered his body next to hers. Hermione shook her head and chuckled.
"You're such a whiny baby …"
Ron moved one hand and pinched the side of her bum, making her gasp and splash water all around.
"Ron! I asked you to join me so we could relax together, not rile me up!"
Ron laughed and reached for her, shifting them so he was leaning against the back and she was sitting between his legs, resting against his chest. "Better?" he asked, his hands massaging her shoulders.
"Mmmh, yeah. I forgive you for being a prat earlier."
"Glad to know." He looked at her glass. "Can I?" he asked, pointing at it. Hermione nodded.
Ron took a long gulp, practically emptying it. When he put it back down, Hermione used her wand to refill it once more. "How was your day, then?" she asked. "Was the visit to the Notts worth it?"
"Yes and no," Ron answered, and then told her everything they had heard.
"So it seems your Aunt Muriel was right," commented Hermione when he finished.
"Yeah, seems so, but, as they won't admit it, we can't do a shit," he grumbled. "Fucking fanatics …"
Hermione nodded. "I can't understand it," she said. "Abandoning your child, and now she can't even be with him because no one can know about it …"
"Yeah. And I had the feeling she really wanted to tell us, to put an end to all this, but, in the end —"
"— In the end, her upbringing won," Hermione finished form him, grasping his hands, which he had on her belly, and squeezing them.
"Yes."
"I can't get it," said Hermione sadly. "I mean, if Teddy, or Victoire, or Dominique were in the same state as Malbard nothing would stop me from being with them, reputations or rumours be damned, and they're not my children. But, of course, I would have never abandoned my son in the first place, so …"
"I had the feeling she hadn't really wanted to," commented Ron. "Maybe she accepted because she feared for him."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, her father was a Death Eater, after all … Maybe she though the boy was safer with another family."
"Raised as a Muggleborn instead of a Half-blood?" pointed out Hermione.
"Well, when you put it that way …"
They fell silent, enjoying the hot water and the feel of their bodies touching. Hermione moved a bit to grab the glass and take another sip of the wine and, despite his tiredness, having her naked and moving between his legs was having an effect on him. It wasn't as if she had her bum on his crotch, but it was still arousing. When she put the glass down and leaned back against him once more, Ron moved his hands up and cupped her glorious, wet tits in his hands, enjoying their fullness.
Hermione let out a chuckle. "I was wondering when you were going to grope my breasts," she said, amused.
"Well, Love, your tits should be the most touched and worshipped ones in the world, awesome as they are …" he said as he gave them another squeeze. Fuck, he loved how they felt in his hands, how the flesh wobbled under his fingers. His cock hardened completely against her back.
Hermione moved a bit, purring. "Mmmh, it seems not everyone is tired," she muttered, and shifted a bit, moving her lower back against his dick.
"Yes, it seem so," he nodded, supressing a moan.
Hermione put her own hands over Ron's and encouraged him to touch her harder, moaning as well. Ron complied. After a bit, she moved her right arm, bent it so she could slide her hand between their bodies and grasped his prick, making him gasp.
"I think you said you were tired?" asked Ron, his voice husky.
"And I am … but maybe we can relax in another way …" she suggested, and then lifted her ass a bit. He manoeuvred in the water and sat back on his lap, holding his cock so it went between her thighs instead of being trapped under her cheeks. She closed her thighs tightly around it and moved her hips very slowly, causing his shaft to slid between her inner thighs, rubbing a bit against her folds. "Mmmh," she moaned.
"Fuck, Hermione …" groaned Ron, squeezing her tits harder. Her nipples were hard as rocks, and he couldn't help but pinch them a bit, which caused even louder moans to escape her mouth.
"You like this, Ron? Having your cock trapped between my legs?"
"Fuck, yeah … Tough it'd feel even better surrounded by that tight pussy of yours."
"In my pussy, you say …" she muttered, her voice sultry and teasing. "And what about this?"
Slowly, she lifted her hips and bum and grabbed his shaft, stroking it once more. Ron closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying her touch, and then he felt the soft globes of her ass touching the tip before the head went between them, pressing against her puckered hole.
"Hermione …?"
"Consider this a treat, as you like it so much," she said, pressing down against him. Ron felt the pressure and moaned. "Use your hands to spread my cheeks," she told him, and he felt his dick twitching at her words.
"Fuck, Hermione, keep talking like that and I'll cum against your ass," he said, moving his hands to her plump buttocks. He squeezed her cheeks and then spread them, loosening her hole a bit. "Do you want me to use a finger first? To stretch you out?"
"We're both wet, and the water is soapy, it'll be fine," she said, and pressed down harder. Her butthole resisted, but, under the constant pressure of her weight, it finally gave up and Ron groaned loudly when his dick went in. The immediate, overwhelming tightness caused him to roll his eyes in pleasure.
"Oh, fuuuuuck, Hermione, so tight …!" he grunted.
"Mmmmh," she moaned, moving his hips just a bit to loosen herself more. Slowly, and little by little, she took his entire cock in her ass until she was sitting on his lap.
"Merlin's bollocks, Hermione … Oh, fuck, it feels so fucking good. So fucking tight … Shit, I love your ass so much!"
Hermione giggled a bit and then started to move a bit. "Ron, touch me," she demanded.
Ron, who had moved his hands to her hips when he had bottomed inside her ass, quickly moved them to her breasts, kneading them eagerly, rubbing her nipples with his fingers. They were already rock hard, and he took a moment to pinch them a bit, eliciting new moans from her. She began to move a bit more, letting a couple of inches get out before pushing down once more. Ron was in heaven. Though he would have loved to be on top so he could slam into her with force, having her fucking her ass on his cock while they were in the hot water was even hotter and more arousing.
They played like this for a bit while she got accustomed to the hard rod invading her ass, and then she grabbed his right hand and pushed it down.
"Touch my pussy, Ron," she ordered, her voice dripping with need. "Please, touch me."
Ron couldn't be happier to comply. He let her guide his hand over her curls, enjoying the feel of her cunt, and then applied pressure to her clit, already swollen. He rubbed it the way she loved and she moaned, squirming over him and even tightening her anal muscles around his dick.
"Oh, shit, Hermione, you're gonna break my cock!"
"I thought — you — loved — it tight, Ron," she moaned, pressing with her hand against his.
"I do, but, fuck, it's almost too much! Oh, shit, Hermione!"
"More, Ron," she said, moving her hips a bit faster. "I need more!"
Ron moved the other hand to her pussy as well, as she spread her legs father away, giving him more room. Still touching her clit with one, he put the index finger of the other into her hole, enjoying her wetness.
"Help me," he whispered into her ear. "Add one of your fingers next to mine and use the other hand to play with your fantastic tits."
Hermione moaned and turned her head to look at him. Ron watched her as he continued rubbing her nub. She looked unbelievably sexy, her eyes dark with lust while some strands of her hair were plastered onto her face. His eyes darted to his wet lips before claiming them in a bruising kiss. Hermione moaned into his mouth as she moved up and down his cock again, making him moan as well. They kept moaning between their kisses, until Ron felt her finger slid next to his at her entrance. Then he pulled a bit apart and looked into her eyes. "Do it. Shove it next to me. Let's fuck your tight cunt together."
Her eyes darkened even more when he pushed in and she followed him, their combined fingers stretching her open. Her mouth opened in a silent moan, and he couldn't help but snog her again.
With three of their hands working on her pussy and his cock in her ass Hermione was soon reduced to a moaning mess. Thankfully, and though she was squirming and bucking her hips, she wasn't moving too much up and down his cock; instead, it was buried inside her snug hole, enjoying the tightness and hotness. Though a bit frustrating, this way he could last longer.
"Gods, Ron, this is so — Oh, I'm so close," she moaned, her head resting on his shoulder. She increased the pace of her finger and Ron followed her rhythm, wanting her to come undone. His eyes darted to the way she was kneading her breast, and groaned inwardly. He moved his mouth to her ear and sucked on her earlobe, closing his eyes to enjoy the clenching tightness of her asshole while rubbing her clit faster.
Her moans grew wilder and louder and Ron smiled against her skin, relishing the way she kept chanting her name. There was nothing in the world like seeing Hermione cumming.
"Ron, I'm so close!" she cried, bucking her hips faster. "Gods, Ron, you're amazing! Fuck, I'm coming, Ron!"
"Shit, you're so fucking hot! Cum around my cock and our fingers, Hermione! Cum hard!"
Her entire body seized in a powerful orgasm and Ron felt her ass clamping powerfully around his dick, almost milking him, while she moaned loudly. "Fuck, fuck, fuuuck, RON! Ohhhh, Gods!"
Ron helped her ride it out, and then, taking his fingers out of her pussy, held her against him while she regained some breath.
"Good?" he asked softly against her ear.
"Amazing," she responded, a smile of contentment appearing on her face. "Truly amazing. And to make it better I still have a really hard cock up my ass …"
"Yeah."
"Maybe you should do something about that?"
"What do you suggest?" he asked playfully.
"Fucking me hard until you cum deep in my asshole may do," she responded in the same tone.
"Merlin, yeah!" he said. He let her rest for another minute, moving his hands to play with her tits for a bit, until she moved them to her hips and turned her face to his, a hungry look in her eyes.
"Fuck me, Ron. Fuck me until you cum."
Ron groaned and, grabbing her hips, began to move her up and down on his dick, each time lifting her more before pushing her down until her cheeks slammed against his thighs and lower belly, the water splashing all around them.
"Oh, fuck, Hermione! Shit, your ass feels so fucking good! Oh, fuck, fuck, fuuuuck! More! I want more!" he shouted, thrusting up while he pushed her downwards.
"Yes, Ron, yes! Like that! Oh, I feel so full with you in my ass! So full! Enjoy it, Ron!"
"Shit, I already am, Hermione! Fuck, feels so fucking good, I'm gonna cum so fucking hard!"
"Yes, cum in me! Deep in me, Ron!" she encouraged.
"Ooooh, Hermione!" he shouted, feeling his bollocks tightening and his dick throb in her snug hole. "I'm just — Oh, fuuuck, cummiiiiing! Cummiiiing!"
He felt her slam down hard, taking his cock to the hilt and keeping it there while he bucked his hips, his dick unloading powerfully into her clenching ass, giving him more pleasure than he had believed it could exist.
"Oh, Merlin's cock, Hermione …" he moaned, spent, feeling his dick starting to soften inside her incredible asshole.
Hermione reached for the glass and took a good sip of wine. Before she could put it down, he grabbed it from her and finished it, sighing happily.
"Feel better?" she asked, snuggling more against him.
"Oh, yeah … Right now I'm the happiest bloke on Earth for sure, having my cock in my amazing fiancé's ass after having cum deep in her bowels …"
"Amazing you say …" she started. "But — do you refer to me, or my ass?"
"Both," he said, pressing his lips against her cheek.
"I don't know whether to feel complimented or offended," she replied.
"Oh, it was definitely a compliment," he said, moving his arms to pinch her bum. Hermione squealed and turned over, causing him to groan when his dick slipped out of her asshole. She began to tickle him, but he just grabbed her arms and turned the tables on her, making her giggle and squeal even more.
He tickled her sides mercilessly while she squirmed and kicked. Ron smiled at the image and then moved his hands to her tits, cupping them once more.
"Ron!" she said, still laughing. "Why is it your hands always end on my breasts?"
"Well, I could tickle you more, if you prefer …" he said, moving his hands to her sides once more in a threatening way.
"No, no!" she exclaimed, squirming once more. "You can play with my boobs as much as you want!"
"That's why I like to hear," he said, nodding approvingly while he squeezed both mounds of flesh once more.
Hermione laughed and then leaned down to kiss him once more. Ron embraced her as they snogged leisurely in the water, enjoying their closeness.
"We should get out," she said a minute later. "I'm tired and hungry."
"Yeah," he agreed. They got up and Ron heard Hermione groan. "What?" he asked.
"Ron, look at the mess we made," she whined, pointing to the floor. Effectively, their lovemaking had resulted in a lot of water being spilled out of the tub. The entire floor of the bathroom was covered in a thin layer of water, including the bath math.
"Yeah, we're rather wild, aren't we?" he said, grinning.
"Ron!"
"What? It's the truth. And besides, that's what something called magic is for, you know?" he commented. He took hers, as he had left his in the bedroom, and dried the floor and the mats. "See? Done."
She chuckled. "I knew I had a good reason to marry you."
Ron arched an eyebrow at her. "If you're referring to my cleaning skills, Love, you're up for a good disappointment …" he replied, teasing, and she laughed.
They washed themselves and then got out of the bathroom, putting on comfortable pyjamas before going to the kitchen to prepare dinner together, both glad for the way their time together shielded them from the roughness of the other aspects of their lives.
Well, here it is! Let me know what you think about Skeeter's article and the visit to the Notts.
Next update will be to Discovering Ourselves, in a week or so. Enjoy your time!