Chapter 16
November 24, 2003
In the Ministry canteen, Hermione sat down for lunch with a sandwich and the day's Arithmancy puzzle from The Daily Prophet. She felt a pat on her shoulder and looked up. She sighed and gestured to the empty seat across the table.
"Thank you," Ron said and sat down.
She took a bite of her sandwich and noted the robe he wore was that of the Magical Maintenance department.
"They agreed to take me on in the department at half pay, to count as community service and pay my fine. If I do good work and stay out of trouble, they'll take me on as a regular employee," he explained.
She nodded and continued her sandwich.
"I need to say that I'm sorry. For everything," he said.
Why he chose that time and place for this was beyond her, but this was Ron after all. She'd take it.
"I'm glad to hear it. I forgive you," she replied.
"You do?" he asked, his eyes welling with tears.
She smiled sadly at him. "Harry says that I'm too forgiving. Perhaps I am, I don't know. Apologies are part of counseling, isn't it?"
He nodded.
"You're abiding by the terms of your probation and getting help. I can't say anything against that," she said and slid the other half of her sandwich to him.
He murmured thanks and started on it. "I knew I was doing the wrong things, but when I was drinking, I just didn't care. Now that I'm sober, I'm horrified at what I've done. My life was great and I wrecked it. Order of Merlin, a job that I liked, and a nice flat in the best part of Diagon Alley with you. Now look at me; working in magical maintenance, broke, living with my parents, and people avoiding me like a plague."
A part of her, a very tiny part, wanted to feel sorry for him. Then she remembered how she felt that day he left, and how she nearly died that day in Diagon Alley. No, Ron didn't try to destroy the building with her inside, but he played a small, ignorant part in the entire smuggling operation. He was a grown wizard and he had to right his wrongs, which he was doing. That's all anyone could ask.
"You must realize, however, that Harry's forgiveness will be a long time coming, if at all," she said.
He nodded. "I know. You and Harry are the hardest part of all this."
#
Hermione was placing the dishes on the new dining table when the front door opened and then closed. From her stool, Grace meowed, and Harry entered the dining room with a white envelope.
"The invitation, for our appraisal," he said and gave her a kiss. "Sorry I'm late."
She waved the comment away and he helped himself to a cup of tea and sat down. Hermione tossed aside a dish towel and removed a cream-colored invitation from the envelope. When she read it, her bottom lip trembled.
"I hope that's all right," he said and took her hand.
"It's perfect," she whispered and gave the card to him to read. On the bottom part was the invite message:
Harry and Hermione have chosen the first day of their new life together.
You are invited to share in their joy as they exchange marriage vows.
Date: March 20, 2004
Time: Noon
Venue: Burbage Pavilion, Hyde Wizard's Park, London
Reception to follow at Potter Manor, Wales.
On the top fold read:
Meeting you was fate,
becoming your friend was a choice,
but falling in love with you was out of my control.
After supper, they brought the invitation sample to her parents for them to see.
"Won't the March weather be tricky?" Ben asked.
"The pavilion will have weather and temperature charms if it calls for it," Harry said.
"I've narrowed the dress to four choices," Hermione said and removed bridal magazines from her bag.
"Can I see?" Harry asked, nudging Ben.
"We've been over this, Harry. You don't get to see my dress until the wedding," Hermione said, flipping through a magazine.
"But that's months away and you haven't picked one yet," Harry returned.
Hermione and Rachel gave Harry a blank look and continued their magazine perusal. Ben chuckled and clapped him on the back. "Come on lad, I've got a new bottle of scotch in the den."
#
After visiting the Grangers, Hermione and Harry arrived home to a post waiting for Hermione. She read it, sighed, and picked up the jacket she had just set aside.
"Chief called a department meeting," she said.
"Must be a break in the smuggling case," he said.
She nodded and buttoned her coat. "I hope."
"Ring if you need anything," he said and kissed her.
Before she stepped into the floo she said, "I picked a dress, by the way."
She emerged from the ministry floo and went to the DMLE offices. When she walked into her office, most of her team was there. Chief McAllister had everyone gather in the conference room and Clarice slid folders across the table to everyone.
"I'm sorry to take you away from your homes in this late hour, but something important has occurred in the smuggling case. You might recall the testimony from Mr. Towson regarding subject Smith?" he asked.
Everyone perused their file and nodded.
"The ubiquitous Mr. Smith was arrested this evening. He was eager to share his story," he said and looked at Hermione, "and his involvement in the events in Diagon Alley, in hopes of leniency."
Hermione tuned out his words as she read Smith's arrest file.
24 November 2003, at 7:00 p.m., Subject Smith was apprehended after a brief duel with Hit Wizards Smithfield, Harlowe, and Pressman at the Bankside Pier, London. (Additional subs apprehended, see addendum.) After an evaluation and treatment by department mediwizards, Smith was taken to the DMLE for inmate in-processing.
She looked at the accompanying arrest photos, and aside from cuts and bruises, he didn't look like a major player in an international smuggling operation. But weren't so many like that? No one pays attention to the most unassuming.
Personal clothing and property was placed into DMLE Inmate Property Bin #54-90B. Inventory is as follows…
She skimmed through the listing of clothing, wand, hat, pocket watch, bill fold.
Pertinent evidence to Case File 274-2004 was inventoried for processing and investigation:
1. 1 (one) Small notebook
2. 1 (one) quill with black ink
3. 1 (one) ink pen, green
4. 1 (one) small leather pouch
5. 1 (one) large leather pouch
6. 8 (eight) wooden luggage trunks, measuring 91 cm in length, 80 m in width, and 70 cm in height
7. 3 (three) canvas bags, black in color
7. 3.5 kg of powdered Graphorn horn
8. 6 kg of boomslang skin
9. 1.2 kg of Cannabis, minced and packed, "brick" shape
She choked on the tea she was drinking and looked at item #9 again to make sure that she wasn't seeing a mistake. Holy shite! 1.2 kilos of weed!
10. £30,000 Pound Sterling, banknotes
That too gave her pause.
11. Galleon coins: 3,000
12. Counterfeit Galleon coins: 2,000
13. 2.2 kg of packaging material
McAllister cleared his throat. "Hermione, I know how much you want to, but you cannot be a part of his questioning. Observe, yes. Active participant, no."
"May I ask why?" she inquired.
"You may…he's already made a spontaneous statement to the effect that you wouldn't have been hurt if you had minded your own business. It would be a conflict of interest if you were to have any part in the questioning. You'll be called to testify, I'm sure, and it'll be much like what you said at Towson's trial."
Hermione returned home and tossed her jacket aside. Harry was reclined in an easy chair, so she flopped into his lap.
"The smuggling case, I take it?" he asked.
She nodded. "One of the big fish was arrested earlier this evening. You remember subject Smith from Towson's trial?"
"Smith was caught?" he returned. "That can't be his real name, can it? Brown is in jail, and subjects White, Green, and Black are still at large, aren't they?"
She nodded and rolled her eyes at the absurdity of the aliases that had popped up during the course of the investigation. Woods, Waters, Sands, and Snow also popped up. Did they think they were being clever?
"Also found this evening were trunks of contraband material, loads of cash…and over a kilo of weed."
His eyebrows popped up.
"I know, I choked on my tea!" she said. "McAllister said that it looks like a big brick of oregano, and it was tested by a herbologist; it's weed."
"A major suspect was caught, so what's wrong?" he asked.
"I can't question him," she sighed. "He made a spontaneous statement that if I had been minding my own business, I wouldn't have been hurt."
"I know you don't like it, but it makes sense. You were severely injured, and your partner died. Could you be objective?" he asked.
She shook her head. "You're right. I'm still angry about Rick, and any defense solicitor could have my questioning thrown out. However, no matter what, this Smith is going to be in prison for the rest of his life."
December 10, 2003
The headline SMUGGLER GETS LIFE SENTENCE was on the front page of The Daily Prophet that morning. Neither Hermione nor Harry carried a subscription, but she caught sight of the paper on her way to her desk in the morning. Everyone else carried a subscription, it seemed. Her testimony the day prior had been difficult, but she found that she was able to look the Smith in the eye as she gave her testimony. Her voice shook as she described the destructive trap in the building, and her eyes followed his as he was led away from the courtroom for his life sentence at Thorney Island prison. She even gave a brief statement to the pushy Daily Prophet hack when he asked about how she felt after the trial.
How do you think I feel, you blithering idiot was what she wanted to retort, but she replied with a more diplomatic, "On behalf of my deceased partner and his family, I'm pleased to see that justice prevailed."
At lunch, she chose some pasta from the ministry canteen and sat down. She already felt tetchy from the trial, and when she looked at her tray and took in the smell of it, she pushed it away. She dug through her handbag for a chocolate, mumbling to herself. She was startled when she felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Harry. He smiled, sat down, and his smile turned into a worried frown.
"Are you all right? You look off," he said.
"Wow, way to make a girl feel special," she grumbled, popping the sweet into her mouth.
He rolled his eyes. "You're pale and your hands are shaking. You don't feel well?"
She sighed and ran her fands over her face. "Admittedly, I didn't feel well this morning. I took something for my stomach and I felt fine after that, but now the nausea is back. You want this?"
She pushed the plate of pasta to him. He shrugged and plucked her fork from her tray. "Is there nothing you want?"
She shook her head. "I just want to get out of here. All the smells are bothering me."
She rose and placed a quick kiss on the top of his head. "See you this evening, love."
"Feel better," he said and watched her until she left the canteen and was out of his view.