Hi everyone!

Thanks to everyone still reading and following this story. It's been so long and still I receive daily reminders of new people reading, following or leaving kudos. Know that it warms my heart each and every time!

This chapter - some Ron and Harry bonding and Harry faces Hermione's boss. I'm excited to see what you think of Alan Greengrass!

As always, take care, stay safe and healthy! I hope you have a wonderful day, wherever you are.

Love, Flora

Chapter 39: How Harry faced the infamous Alan Greengrass

'So, you got chewed out properly this time?' Ron barked over the roaring stadium crowd.

Harry chuckled at Ron, before using his fingers to blow a whistle at Ginny, who just celebrated her third score in a row by flying right over their heads, touching the hands of her adoring fans.

'That's the reason me and Hermione didn't work out, mate,' he grinned. 'We would have fought until our throats were sore. GO GIN!'

He watched his sis give them a quick wave before getting back in formation. The Harpies really were in amazing shape this season. Harry thoroughly enjoyed watching the matches and wasn't one bit ashamed of the green and golden shawl he was sporting again today. Though he still bleaked in comparison to Ron, who, aside from the usual overindulgent face-paint, wore a golden Harpie hat, made and enchanted by Luna.

'That's the problem with you - you're too stubborn to admit you're in the wrong,' Harry recanted.

Ron laughed deeply.

'Cant argue with that, I suppose. That's why Nicky and I decided that I'm always right, even when I'm not.'

Harry knew of that agreement, which always had him in stitches. When Ron would make a particularly bold statement, Nicky would say "of course it is, darling," and then shoot Harry a look that would say it all.

'The quaffle is back in the game! Let's see if Pimbrooke is able to continue her search for the snitch...'

Harry and Ron both sat down, like the rest of the crowd, and his red-headed friend handed him a handful of Candified Crispies, a new Weasley invention. Cotton candy seemed to melt in his mouth, followed by a chocolate minty flavor. He grabbed another batch.

'This has been quite the week for you, then,' Ron continued. 'The article, the thing with your uncle, now this row-...'

'It wasn't a row,' Harry interceded.

'-... and to top it off, Luna's article. I thought it would be published today?'

'Tomorrow,' Harry said. 'Couldn't make the Sunday edition, Luna said. The Quibbler wanted to do it justice, they needed more than a day.'

'Makes sense,' Ron nodded. 'How did it go?'

'No idea,' Harry shrugged and then winced when a bludger knocked one of the Harpies off her broom. 'Cant be worse than the Prophet, right?'

'Still a no-go on the whole "invade the Prophet's headquarter and put Jacky Simone's head on a spike"-idea?' Ron asked, seemingly innocent. Harry snorted.

'I work for the Law Department now, Ron. But hey, you can always send her some disguised Puking Pastilles...'

They bantered a bit about which kind of sweets would have the most impact and Harry was fairly certain Ron decided on a suitable revenge package at the end of their conversation, although he was kind enough not to admit that out loud.

'Look at us, being responsible adults...' Harry snickered, and Ron laughed.

'We're only 23, give us a break!'

'I'm allowed a break alright, but you're not. You're about to become a dad, you know,' Harry quipped and Ron moaned.

'Please, don't remind me. Makes me feel ancient.'

Harry looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

'Just ancient?'

'And scared out of my wits,' Ron admitted, half-heartedly. 'Will you stop that? You're like Hermione when you do that. She's rubbing off on you!'

Harry snickered again.

'Probably. But that's not bad, right?'

'No,' Ron admitted, fidgeting with his Weasley-shirt. 'It's good to talk about it. I'm still just like... You know... Twins.'

Harry nodded with understanding.

'And I'm also worried about Nick,' Ron then went on, his tone now serious and somber. 'She's holding her own, but I can see that it's though. Healers aren't that pleased as well, to be honest. She's struggling and they upped the potion dose last week.'

'Oh?'

'Yeah. They're afraid she might give birth earlier than the estimated 36 weeks they had prior. She had some aching this Thursday. I was scared shitless, went home immediately. Healer called false alarm though. I want to lock myself inside with her just to be... there, in case... Well... But she insisted on me going today. Her sister's with her, so if anything happens...'

'But she's not due for a long period, right?'

'Right,' Ron said. '10th of June.'

February wasn't even over yet. Harry patted Ron on the back.

'Do you think something will happen?' Harry asked, concerned.

'I'm always worried,' Ron replied, more tired than Harry had ever heard him. 'I'm always scared something bad will happen to the ones I care about. That feeling hasn't left me since... You know.'

Harry knew.

'But now it's even worse, I guess. I don't know why, but things happening then was... Expected. Now it's just... Why, you know? I just want to catch a break at some point.'

Harry wrapped an arm around his friend and gave him a side-hug.

'I'm sorry. Sounds like a lot.'

Ron nodded. They were silent for a while, eyeing the match with mild-interest, until Ron cleared his throat and loosened their embrace. Harry saw that his friend wiped his eyes quickly.

'It'll be alright, yeah?'

'Yeah,' Harry nodded. 'And if there's anything I can do-...'

'Keep an eye on her when I can't be home,' Ron said. 'And keep my mind off it whenever you can.'

'Noted,' Harry said, gesturing to one of the guys selling Butterbeer. 'So, Gin's in killer shape, don't you think?'

The Harpies booked a close win against the Tornadoes. The match was so thrilling that Ron had spent the last half-hour bouncing up and down on his chair, the Harpy on his head screeching so loudly it had Harry close his ears with both his hands.

They waited in the box again, downing the last of their drinks, chatting a bit with Seamus and Dean, who had been attending as well.

Dean, Seamus and most of the other onlookers left after a while, leaving Harry and Ron alone. They bantered a bit about sweets and Ron's work, discussing a new business venture to the States.

'But America is quite hard to conquer as a foreign party. They're not as open to trade as they were a few years back.'

'Yep,' Harry nodded. 'Auror program used to involve an optional apprenticeship abroad, remember? They closed it down a few years back. MACUSA's demands became insanely hard to work with.'

'Pity,' Ron nodded. 'Do you know why?'

'Their current MoM is very conservative. Religious, tough bloke. And very suspicious of anything and anyone not from the States. I met him once. Weird guy.'

Ron nodded and played a bit with his coaster.

'Don't you miss work? I mean, the fact Hermione gave you this opportunity is immensely sweet, but-...'

'No "but",' Harry said, firmly. 'It is sweet. I almost blew it. Maybe I blew it altogether, I don't know. We have to talk it over. Chances are her boss will join in the convo as well.'

'Right,' Ron said. 'But the reason why you kinda blew it is important too, right? Let's be honest, Harry: a desk job kills you. You need adrenaline, something active, something that makes you feel alive and vibrant. What are you doing now? You fetch coffee all day!'

'And I get nothing but good feedback on that,' Harry joked. 'I mixed up an order once, but Gregory accidentally found out he loved hazelnut swirls in his beverage and now he can't do without.'

'Merlin's Beard,' Ron snorted. 'What have they done to you?'

'I know, I know,' Harry laughed. 'You're right. I was allowed to do my first investigation this week, but then The Prophet kind of blew up and... Well, we didn't want to risk it.'

'What kind of investigation?'

'Stake-out. Low-key inquiry. Nothing set in stone or prepared, just testing the waters.'

'Our society has a fucking Chosen One and where do we send him? On stake-out! To test the waters!'

'Yeah, well, when your "Chosen One" decided to call his superior an arsehole sucker, that's where he ends up,' Harry shrugged. 'I need to become less impulsive. Less... I dunno.'

'Yourself?' Ron asked pointedly.

'No,' Harry replied. 'Less confrontational with authority.'

'Damn, Harry! You've always had a problem with your temper, but only when people sort of deserved it. You never had problems with Flitwick or Sprout or Hagrid or, heck, even McGonagall, unless they treated you unfairly. That's the point: you have a massive aversion against bureaucracy and opportunists and... hypocrite slimeballs. That's why you had a problem with Snape and Umbridge. They were unfair. There's nothing bad against battling unfairness, you know.'

'Probably,' Harry said. 'But learning to keep your mouth shut at the right moments isn't too bad either.'

'I just don't want you to conform to something you're not happy with,' Ron concluded. 'That's all.'

'I'm not,' Harry answered honestly. 'I don't mind taking it easier. And I actually like the fact that my colleagues aren't all over-competing, paranoid arseholes who don't dare to have a proper conversation with me.

Maybe the adrenaline rush isn't what I need anymore. I might actually like taking it a bit easier. And you're right, this Department isn't where I'd want to end up on the long run, but... I don't know. It feels good for now. And if I get to go on investigation, I'll probably be less bored too.'

'You could always join me and George,' Ron said. 'I bet the Americans won't be able to resist an offer from our "Chosen One", no matter how reclusive they've become!'

They laughed and fantasized about Harry pitching a product like Uncle Vernon had during his presentation.

'Also, on a more serious note, I had news back on those threatening letters Hermione received,' Harry said, after they ran out of fun ideas. 'Got an owl this morning that says they actually arrested four people.'

'No way! Who told you?'

'Bagman. They're not allowed to name anyone but apparantly it's no one we know personally. First interrogations make them believe there's no real threat, just... You know. Pathetic tossers.'

Ron's faced turned grim and Harry patted him on the shoulder.

'See? That's probably why I'll end up in the Auror Department again, if I want it or not. I can't stand idly by. That's just not who I am. I can't rest until I know I'm doing everything I can to protect the people I care about. I want to look those bastards directly in the eye and tell them what kind of low-lifes they are.'

'Exactly,' Ron said, swishing the last of his beer in his glass and downing it in one gulp. 'So, you might want to grovel back to your old boss, get yourself back into her good graces and kick her out of office as soon as the moment arrives. It's time we have someone on the force who means business. Oh, Gin! There you are!'

Although Harry tried really hard to not think of his pending conversation with Hermione, their Sunday evening was a lot more tense than normal. Hermione told Harry how much fun she had had with Francis, a Muggle their age she had befriended years back in the library, and Harry described how Ginny and Jaana had a decent chance of winning the cup this year and how Ron was a bit scared for Nicky's health. Nothing out of the ordinary, but the silences between topics were laden with a heaviness Harry was not used to, and he was glad when he and Hermione climbed into the bed, kissed each other goodnight and she curled up against him, mirroring Crookshanks at his feet.

He had another nightmare that night: of Purple Evil slashing across Hermione's chest, watching her die in his arms, a feeling of insane grief numbing him until he woke up exhausted. He apparently hadn't thrashed about in the bed, because when he woke up, his limbs felt stiff, as if he had been frozen in place. The realization that Hermione was very much alive and breathing against his chest overwhelmed him, and when he went to the bathroom to drink something, he slapped his face and urged his head under the cold water faucet.

He showered, got dressed, and moved to the living room. It was 4 AM, but there was no way he would be able to get back into the bed, so he made tea, got himself a blanket and picked a book from Hermione's shelves. Crookshanks had woken up too and curled himself into Harry's lap, purring contently.

At least someone was happy with his abnormal sleeping schedule.

Hermione woke him up a few hours later, his face plastered to one of the book pages, as she offered him some fresh tea.

'Nightmare?' she asked. She was already dressed, her curls still a bit damp from her shower. He nodded as Hermione swapped his old, cold glass, that had been tilting dangerously close to the pages in his slumber, with a new one that had swirls of heat clouding off the watery surface.

'I'm sorry I didn't notice.'

'It froze me,' he mumbled, carefully placing the book aside and sitting up straight. Crookshanks yawned and dug his nails into Harry's lap, making him wince.

Hermione closed the space between them with a careful kiss on his forehead, then another one on his scar.

'It's going to be alright,' she said. She gave him a meaningful look and Harry sighed.

'You're nervous too?'

'Alan wants to be present. Of course I'm nervous.'

He nodded and took her hand.

'I'll transfer again, if it makes your position at work safer. You know I will.'

'I don't want you to, Harry! That's the last thing that I want - I just...'

She halted, kissed him again, on his lips this time.

'Let's not discuss work here, okay? We shouldn't. Anyway, I've got to go...'

'It's six thirty, Hermione. You aren't expected at work in at least an hour and a half-...'

'Just to make sure.'

She let go of his hand, kissed him another time and smiled at him. That did help a bit.

'I love you. See you at work?'

He nodded once more, watching her retreat to the kitchen. Crookshanks stroked his head against Harry's hand persistently, letting out a strangled meow.

'Yes, yes Crooks, I'll give you pets...'

Harry arrived at the Ministry at 8 'o clock. He had to dodge a row of annoying reporters, asking him all kinds of obnoxious questions about his relationship with Hermione and the Prophet scoop, and one even asked about the article that was rumored to appear today in the Quibbler, but he was persistent in his silence. Wendell, the office clerk, greeted him joyfully when he entered the Law Department, a small group of disappointed Prophet reporters in Harry's wake.

'No coffee today, mister Potter?' Wendell joked. Harry smiled at him.

'Didn't have the time this morning, I'm afraid. Next time, I promise. How are the kids?'

'No problem, sir. None at all. And they're fine, Mister Potter! Little Roy is going to school for the first time next week, and I don't know who's more excited, him or Candice and I!'

Harry stopped for a bit more small talk on the way to Hermione's office, just to distract him, but he felt his heart thud in his chest when he finally approached the door. It was closed, Mimsy eyeing him from her desk.

'She and Alan are both in already, sir,' she said.

'Yes, thank you.'

He breathed a few times, steadying himself, and knocked.

Alan and Hermione were seated behind Hermione's desk. Her golden nameplate shone brightly in the fake morning light that fell through her enchanted window.

'Mister Potter,' Hermione said, professionally and unattached, and she pointed at the vacant seat across from them. 'Come in and sit down.'

'Thank you ma'am,' Harry heard himself reply. He unbuttoned his brown jacket as he sat down and nodded.

'Mister Greengrass.'

The stern man with big, bushy eyebrows and a withered face looked back at Harry with a studying gaze. He must have been handsome in his younger years, with piercing ice blue eyes and a strong jawline, but stress and age had greyed and tired him immensely, and it showed in dark circles that hollowed his cheeks and eye sockets. He was Malfoy's father-in-law, Harry knew. Another reason to feel some empathy for his former school rival. Jerome Granger was a quirky puppy in comparison to this calculated, wolflike man.

'Mister Potter.'

His voice was low too, like a calculated growl. The Head of the Law Department had a fierce and unbending reputation. Just but firm, sometimes too strict. No one would ever accuse him of favoritism or sentiment - he didn't have an emphatic bone in his body. And even if he did, no one would have the guts to accuse him of it.

'When you came into my office last week, it was my understanding you had communicated with your own superior about your actions, as is common,' the man started. 'My approval of your trip to Gringotts rested on the faith I have in our Head of Regulation and Control Creatures and Beings. I assumed she gave you the green light earlier and I appreciated your transparency by informing me of your intentions as well, but I didn't understand you were purposefully surpassing her.'

Harry felt some kind of anger build in his gut from that last statement, but he chose to ignore it and stay silent.

'I will be honest: at first the idea of our famous Chosen One joining our ranks, allured me. Someone with your work-ethics, stamina and reputation, cannot be underappreciated, especially not for a Department that is regarded as old, tiresome and glamourless by the entirety of the Wizarding World. But, aside from those advantages, I realized quite well that someone with an Auror-background is prone to more careless behavior, Mister Potter. Aside from your persona, your former training has not aided you to become more rational and mindful of protocol.'

He sighed and stretched his fingers on Hermione's desk, his impressive House-ring glimmering in the morning light.

'That's why I agreed on letting you in, but only if you would be supervised by someone who you would respect and listen to. To prevent any unnecessary slip-ups, if you will.'

Harry was still silent, and quiet, but he felt an ember linger in his belly and it was hard for him to not clench his jaw. This man talked about having him being paraded as the Department's showpony, something he detested, but Greengrass also slightly suggested he didn't respect Hermione. While Alan Greengrass hadn't respected Hermione properly for years, making her cry at their lunch dates many times because of his treatment of her.

'And now I understand you went behind her back to achieve intel on the Goblin case. The opposite of what she promised me would happen.'

'It's not her fault, sir-...' Harry started, but he was cut short.

'I am not finished, Mister Potter,' Greengrass hissed softly and dominantly. 'You do well to remember that I am not Eleonore Holywell. Your reputation and your boyish appearance do not influence my judgement and no one, no one, in this Department is allowed to interrupt me.'

His eyes bore into him, cold as ice, and Harry bit his tongue. Weirdly, the man reminded him of Severus Snape.

'You have gained intelligence via a goblin without Miss Granger's permission, without our consent, and to make matters worse, you have given this goblin your personalized card, which means that an "undercover" mission, as was promised to me, can be thrown right out of the window. The question rises what use there is left for you in this Department. When Miss Granger broke the news to me, I told her I couldn't think of any. We didn't just bring you in here to make friends with the doorman and fetch coffee, you know.'

Alan Greengrass sniffed and waited for Harry to blow up in his face, lose his temper, but surprisingly, he didn't. Oh, Harry was angry. But Hermione's gaze, a fiery, reassuring look, kept him in his chair. Silent.

'Now, luckily, your superior believes I am wrong and there are many reasons to keep you on board. Miss Granger believes you are not only capable, but the only suitable candidate for this Goblin mission. She believes your strength, intellect and social skills are unmatched and are the perfect link between our Departments.'

He closed his fingers around his coffee mug, swirling the spoon in slow circles, then tapping it on the side of his mug and setting it aside.

'The question beckons, is Miss Granger's judgement in this matter clouded because of the fondness she feels for you?'

He sipped, his lips smacking, and then looked Harry directly in the eye, mockingly. The man seemed determined to make Harry tick. But, to Hermione's surprise, Harry didn't tick. Harry smiled.

He knew bastards like Greengrass. He'd had them on the other end of the interrogation table countless times and five years of experience taught him a lot about how to handle them.

'I think it is,' Harry said. 'I agree.'

'You agree?'

Greengrass looked perplex.

'Yes. I believe that, if Hermione hadn't known who I was, her judgement would have been different. As your judgement is now. I reckon she would have handled quite similarly.'

Greengrass frowned and adjusted his posture.

'The truth is: Hermione's strength lies in her personal judgements. She is right. I am the only capable person for this job. Your Department needs me. Desperately, might I add.'

'Desperately?' Greengrass huffed. Hermione flinched and closed her eyes, and Harry couldn't help but smile again.

'Yes. Name one person from your own Department that could infiltrate in a hostile environment. One that knows how to do a proper stake-out, with environmental checks and personal screening. Just one.'

'We don't need them,' Greengrass countered. 'We make laws.'

'Right. And why is it that you make laws?' Harry asked. 'Is it not to protect the most vulnerable beings in our society? Under your care, great protection has been acquired for Muggleborns in the past five years. Miss Granger is doing her very best to protect non-Human beings in our Wizarding World as well. So other, more powerful people, aren't able to exploit them.'

Greengrass didn't move for a second, and Harry eyed him closely. Their gazed met, ice blue mixed with emerald green, and for a moment it seemed as sparks would fly.

But then, Greengrass nodded and leaned back.

'Go on.'

'And that is exactly what's happening now. Goblins are being exploited, and negotiations for their sake have been halted because of it. There is something illegal happening right under our noses, something that keeps the Goblins from coming together with us to form better laws for them. It's happening right now, I can sense it. Miss Granger agrees. Yes, I was impulsive. I did something reckless that is not befitting of my current working position and I regret that immensely. But your Department needs me, if they actually want to go on with protecting the beings in our society that need it most.'

Hermione looked like she wanted to hug and smother and jump him, all at the same time. Alan Greengrass snickered.

'What do you think, Granger?'

'I agree, Mister Greengrass,' Hermione said, determined, not showing a hint of those emotions in her voice. 'I do think we need to have this conversation to set clear boundaries for Mister Potter, but he is right. If we actually want to make a difference, we have to do some kind of investigation into this. He is perfect for that job.'

'But he does need to become more weary of his position,' Greengrass added and Hermione nodded quickly.

'Absolutely, sir. Mister Potter and I have discussed this. He has promised not to surpass me again.'

Alan Greengrass chewed on his tongue a bit, looked at Harry, at Hermione, and then nodded.

'Very well. For the sake of the development of the improved Beings Act, we need the Goblins to be involved without interference of a third, ill-willed party, and I am prepared to offer Mister Potter another chance to guarantee that. But know that you are on thin ice, Potter.'

'Noted, sir,' Harry said, a wave of relief washing over him. He had been confident in his success the moment Greengrass has allowed him to speak openly, but the final word of Hermione's boss was welcome anyway. 'I will not disappoint.'

Alan Greengrass stood up from his chair, shook Harry's hand and bowed his head lightly for Hermione. Then he stepped out of the office, his brown cloak swirling behind him.