The horizon was mostly dark canvas, not yet visible till sunrise. Hermione didn't like cliffs. Even before she learned of what had happened to Draco, she found them frightening; it was the precipice, the intimidating height, the quiet beat of the ocean below, the eerie wind that seemed to whistle and whip around them… and yet here she was.

Only Luna would have chosen to have a predawn wedding ceremony on a cliff, on a Sunday morning, and be late for it. That being said, Hermione had barely been able to sleep since she was interviewed at the Ministry. Harry had said they must already have evidence of some kind if they'd called her in, but Hermione couldn't imagine what it was. The conversation she'd overheard between Blaise and Theo hadn't helped either. It had only made her worry more.

The wedding guests had already begun to arrive, taking their seats. Soon they'd become impatient, but Hermione could handle their irritation. She could excuse Luna's delay, explain her tardiness, they'd understand. But Hermione could do nothing to control the timing of the sunrise. Her low heels dug into the soft soil as she walked across the grass. She had to push down her bridesmaid's dress which seemed to flutter in the light breeze; a dainty rose-colored chiffon with flowing sleeves.

Parting the flaps of the Bride's Tent, Hermione stepped in and found Ginny sitting at the dressing table applying lipstick.

"I can't believe she's not here yet," she muttered, looking up at her, as she sat at the dressing table applying lipstick. "The longer she takes, the longer I'm stuck in this silly dress with these ridiculous flowers in my hair and—"

"She'll be here," clipped Hermione. "Because I told her if she isn't, I'll have to kill her. And besides, I actually think the dress she's chosen is very sweet."

Ginny gave a low chuckle. "You're not the one with flaming red hair. This isn't exactly my color."'

Hannah Abbott entered just then, looking frantic. "I just received an owl," she explained. "They were delayed at customs. Apparently, the Twintwilly creature died and there was all this paperwork to fill out in order for them to bring its hatchlings into Britain."

Hermione let out a groan of exasperation. "I can't believe she's adopting when she's meant to be walking down the bloody aisle! I'm all for the care of magical creatures but we have a hundred people waiting and sunrise is supposedly in twenty minutes!"

Anticipating Hermione's annoyance, Hannah raised her hands in a placating gesture. "I'm going to let everyone know what's going on," she said reassuringly. "And in the meantime, find a glass of champagne."

"It's four-thirty in the morning," frowned Hermione. "I don't need a drink, I need Luna."

Hannah rolled her eyes and clucked her tongue. "Not for you, silly! For me. I missed the bachelorette party because I couldn't find a babysitter. Certainly not missing out on free champagne now."

Hermione glared at the retreating figure as she disappeared through the flaps of the tent.

"Just breathe," said Ginny, taking Hermione by the shoulders. "It's not your wedding, it doesn't have to be perfect."

She nodded, taking a deep inhale. It was true, this wasn't her big day but… "I just want everything to be perfect for her. I can't have any more surprises—"

"Luna—?"

Their heads snapped to the entrance.

"What are you doing here?" scowled Ginny. "This is the Bride's Tent."

"My thoughts exactly," muttered Hermione under her breath.

Theo scoffed. "Looking for the bride, obviously."

"She's not here," swallowed Hermione.

He barely gave her a second glance as he turned to leave.

"Wait," she rushed out.

Theo stopped and turned back hesitantly.

"Luna will be here. Just—" Hermione looked at Ginny. "Gin, could you check on Rolf's parents?"

Her friend's forehead creased in confusion.

"Please?"

"Sure," she said, her eyes darting between them with burning curiosity. "I'll just go then..."

Theo slid his hands into the pockets of his trousers as Ginny passed him.

"Theodore," she said, sounding very much like a mother reprimanding a child. "What are you doing here?"

He gave a half-hearted shrug, still refusing to look at her. "I was invited."

She tried not to look surprised. She hadn't known, had never even thought to ask, she'd simply assumed Luna wouldn't invite him.

"Look, I know I said it wasn't too late to tell Luna but—"

His head snapped up, his dark eyes piercing her, holding her tongue.

"Is that why you think I'm here?"

She shifted awkwardly on her heels. "I just don't want you to cause a scene. It's a special day for her."

"You think I still have feelings for Luna…"

Hermione turned around and began arranging the make-up and beauty accessories lined along the dressing table. She could barely recognize what half of them were for.

"Well, don't you?" she said, catching his gaze in the reflection of the mirror.

Theo reached for something tucked away in the pocket of his robes. He walked up to her and placed a roll of parchment on the dresser. Hermione picked it up and unfurled it, her eyes darting over what looked to be an official Ministry document.

"I received a letter from Luna the day before yesterday, saying she needed help getting clearance at customs. I know someone—used to work with my father—she was missing a certification. I got the necessary forms and Owled them to the department last night. It's her wedding gift…"

"Theo—"

"How could you possibly think I still have feelings for her?" he exclaimed.

She shook her head, rolling the parchment up. "I don't know, I just assumed. You didn't seem to like the idea of her getting married."

"Those are the general rules we men abide by," he said taking the parchment back, "insult our ex-girlfriend's new partners, be petty… act like we don't care when we actually do—"

"You didn't ask me what the Ministry wanted with me," she said suddenly as a way of changing the topic.

"So?"

"They were making inquiries," she said, avoiding his gaze, pretending to fiddle with her floral hair crown. "Where I was, who I was with, about Draco…"

Theo scoffed. "They don't know what you don't tell them, Granger."

She leaned forward, her palms splayed flat against the dressing table, closing her eyes.

"Why do you do that?" she demanded.

"What?"

She spun around, her eyes pinning him.

"Why do you call me Granger?"

It reminded her so much of the way Draco used to spit it out at her when she was young. She was starting to hate the sound of her own name.

His jaw clenched, his nostrils flaring. "What should I be calling you then?"

"I'd think that after sleeping together I'd at least be afforded the courtesy of being called by my first name—!"

"Excuse me—?"

"—all your other conquests are given that, at least."

"Fine," he said softly. "You really want to do this?"

Hermione would have laughed if she wasn't so wracked with nerves. Because no she really didn't, she didn't want to have any sort of conversation regarding their feelings—

"Why do I keep waking up to find you gone, Hermione? Why did you send me a resignation letter, and why did you kiss me? I think it has something to do with the fact that some sick part of you enjoys torturing me, Hermione!"

He had sucked the air out of the room.

"This isn't the time or place."

"You never really forgave me for putting you under that sleeping curse, did you? You still blame me!"

"Don't be silly," she murmured, wondering if there was a modicum of truth to that. She turned back around to the mirror and began to reapply lipstick if only to give her hands something to do.

"I can't do this anymore," he whispered dejectedly.

The words jarred her. There was a clap of thunder and her attention was drawn to the sound of clouds gathering outside. A storm was coming.

His gaze caught hers in the mirror. "This—with you… it's not working."

She barked a humorless, bitter laugh, ignoring the feeling of dread curdling in the pit of her stomach and chucked the lipstick away. "What?" she taunted. "Are you breaking up with me? Because I don't recall—"

"I'm in love with you."

All her breath left her body, her chest caving in.

"But you already knew that…"

Theo jerked the chair around to face him. Grudgingly, she looked up at him beneath her eyelashes.

"And I know you love me…" She pressed her lips together, fighting the sensation of plummeting, "but it's not enough. I am not enough—"

"Don't!" she choked. "Don't act like you know—"

He yanked her up, his grip hard on her arms. "Then tell me," he demanded. "Tell me you're not still in love with a ghost. Tell me and I'll believe you…"

She gulped, hesitating. Her tongue flicked out to lick her lips, to speak, to say something… but she couldn't let go of Draco, wasn't ready, couldn't bear the idea of saying the words out loud. And he wasn't surprised by her reluctance, not even a little.

"I don't know where your feelings for me begin and where your devotion to him ends. It's been three years and you still want my memories more than you want me…"

Hermione stared into his dark eyes and saw the pain she'd inflicted on him, the same pain she'd inflicted on herself and wished she hadn't.

She tried blinking the tears away. "I'm sorry," she winced, the first falling. And she was, she was so sorry. "I didn't mean for any of this—"

"I'm leaving Britain tomorrow. For good. I need to get out, get away from all this."

More tears fell. "Because of me or because of the case?"

"Because of everything."

She took his hand in hers. "I never wanted—never meant for you to… it's not your fault, Theo."

"My fault?" he echoed in a daze. "What do you mean?"

She stood, taking his face in her hands. "No matter what happens I won't let them take you."

"Take me?" His eyes narrowed on her and he was about to say something when the curtain flung open and Luna appeared, drenched from head to foot in her wedding dress.

She cried out, startled. "Luna!" breaking away from Theo, a single tear trailing down her cheek and wiped at it quickly.

Theo gave her a half-smile. "Luna, you look," his eyes widened, "wet."

She gave a tinkling soft laugh. "Yes, it was raining and—"

Before she could finish her sentence, Hermione had raised her wand and cast a drying charm on her. "The sun is going to rise any moment now," she said, composing herself. "You still want a predawn wedding, don't you?"

"Yes," beamed Luna. "Yes, I do."

"Here," said Theo handing her the certificate, "before I forget."

Luna placed her hand on her heart. "Thank you," she said, her eyes filled with gratitude. "Rolf and I are so grateful."

"Hair and makeup?" suggested Hermione, clearing her throat.

Luna gave a tilt of her head. "No, thank you," she hummed as if declining an offer for tea. "I'd rather not."

"You look beautiful as is," said Theo reassuringly.

"Like the moon?" she grinned.

He nodded. "Like the moon."

And then she was embracing him, holding him hostage in a tight bear hug. "Oh, I've missed you, Theodore. I'm so glad you're here."

"Me too," he sighed slowly returning the hug.

Hermione cleared her throat again, feeling much like she was imposing on an intimate moment. But then Luna was breaking away, her blue eyes darting between her and Theo.

"I'll wait outside, give you a moment," she said to him, as if this wasn't her Brides Tent, as if her wedding could wait. And it occurred to Hermione that Luna Lovegood always knew more than she ever let on.

"Let me guess," Hermione murmured after the Ravenclaw had left, "fairy dust?"

Theo pursed his lips. "It's unnerving, isn't it?"

Their eyes met and she let out a laugh; a genuine laugh and he laughed along with her. It was deep and unfamiliar. She couldn't remember ever making him laugh.

"You're handsome when you're happy, Theo."

His throat bobbed, and he raised his hand to her face, caressing her cheek with the pad of his thumb. She let him place a soft kiss at the corner of her lip.

"Bet you a galleon you'll miss me, Granger."

And then he was gone.

She blinked the tears from her eyes, staring at the empty space where he'd been a moment ago. The heat of his palms lingering on her cheek; the sillage of him still potent in the air. And she did. She already missed him, already felt the panic, the need to run after him… but she also knew in her heart that it would be terribly cruel and selfish on her part. Hermione understood why people called it falling in love. She had never thought it was meant so figuratively; that sensation of actually falling, of it all happening so fast, so fast you can barely take a gasp of air before your chin hits the floor. With Draco she hadn't even realized, she'd merely woken up one morning and known. The way breath comes naturally. Imagine then, the ever amounting dread she'd suffered with Theodore Nott who she had not fallen in love with. Because there had been no falling. There had only been the slow-burn of expanding affection, the full awareness that she'd gone from loathing him, to tolerating him, to depending on him, and then understanding with complete clarity that she loved him. Not in the way he needed, though.

He needed someone whole and she had come apart at the seams years ago.

Luna, Ginny, and Hannah entered. Her cheeks reddened. If it had been a secret before, Ginny certainly had an idea of what was going on now. She grabbed the three bouquets of wildflowers sitting in their vases and handed Ginny and Hannah theirs.

Thankfully, Ginny took it without asking a single question. Luna gave her a small smile as Hermione handed her hers.

They stepped out of the tent, and despite the fact that it was still drizzling, Luna looked up into the sky with utter joy and said, "It's time… from this day forward I'll be Luna Scamander."

Ginny and Hannah grinned, their eyes warm and filled with love.

Hermione embraced her friend, holding her tightly. "Luna Scamander is going to be just as amazing as Luna Lovegood," she whispered.

Because she knew... if anything she was blessed with the best of friends.

The ceremony couldn't have been timed better, had it been planned. There was still a slight drizzle, but they cast an enchantment so the rain fell, but it was like a large invisible umbrella hanging above the marquee and its guests, sheltering them from the rain.

By the time they began exchanging their vows, the rain had stopped and the sun had risen behind them, circling them in a halo of light. Hermione couldn't help but smile all the way through, tucking away her loss of someone she loved aside. Her grief could wait. It would be there tomorrow. And by the time it showed its face, Theo would be gone and she'd be sad, but lighter.

Guilt, she learned, was heavy.

Still… she couldn't help but steal furtive glances of him through the crowd of guests. She noticed he didn't have a drink in his hand, but just as he had three years ago, at Pansy's wedding, Daphne was prettily draped around him.

"So, you and Theodore Nott?" asked Harry, startling her.

He took the seat next to her at the bridesmaid's table.

Hermione pressed her eyes closed. "You and Ginny are worse than a couple of fourth years. Honestly."

"You should have told me," he said with a curt tone.

"There's nothing going on, at least, not anymore..." She didn't mention the fact that he was leaving the country. "You won't tell anyone, will you?"

He sighed. "No," he said finally. Then he suddenly began to smile into his glass his lips, quirking. "What's with you and Slytherins? Should I warn Zabini?"

She threw her head back and laughed. "I was actually thinking more along the lines of Gregory Goyle. Now, there's a man I can sink my teeth into."

"Don't even joke about that," snickered Harry, cringing. "Besides I heard he's dating some French model now."

Hermione's jaw fell open. "You can't be serious," she laughed, covering her mouth with her hand.

"And he's broke, so it must actually be love— or she's certifiably insane."

She scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. "Well, good for him I suppose."

"And if there's hope for Goyle, there's hope for you yet," he chuckled.

Hermione's lip split into a grin. "You asked for it, Harry Potter," and before he had a chance to understand her threat, she stood, dragging him by the arm onto the dance floor.

"Oh nooo," he moaned. "Please, I'm not nearly drunk enough to dance yet. In fact, I'm not even entirely awake! Who decides to have a wedding this early in the morning on a Sunday?"

She laughed, pulling, but he was far stronger than her. "Oh come on, Harry! Just one dance! You need the practice for your wedding!"

He was laughing too. "Just leave me be! Go bother Ron—!"

Hermione's laughter died on her lips. Kinglsey had just appeared, followed by the loud crack of apparition. More Aurors materialized and with them; Agent Davies. Harry had turned to look, his forehead creased in confusion.

"What's going on? What are they doing here?"

"I don't know," he frowned.

Heads turned as the M.L.E walked in, the band stopped playing, the music replaced by the hum of whispers. Hermione watched with dread as they made a beeline through the crowd toward Luna's father who was in conversation with Theo. She moved toward him, jostling guests as she tried to get closer.

Theo merely rolled his eyes. "Kinglsey," he drawled. "Funny seeing you here."

"Theodore Nott, you're under arrest for the murder of Corban Yaxley and Fenrir Greyback—"

"What—no!" she cried out before thinking. "You can't."

Daphne glared at the Aurors, as they pulled him forward, spinning him around, binding his hands.

"Wait," Hermione said, stepping in front of Kingsley. "He didn't do anything!"

Harry pulled her away, holding her back by her arms.

"Harry, let me go!" she said.

Luna and Rolf had appeared; Ginny and Ron, too.

Hermione ground her teeth. "You can't just take him!"

Kingsley didn't respond and continued to leave, Theo's dark eyes caught hers as he was shoved forward.

"Careful," he growled. "I bruise easily."

Agent Davies eyed each and every one of them, daring them to challenge her authority.

Ron came to their side. "Greyback's dead?" he whispered to them. "When the hell did that happen?"

"I'll see what's going on," said Harry. "You're not helping him this way."

As he left, following behind them, she realized Harry was right. She wasn't helping in the least. There was only one thing left to do.

"But I was with him," she told Ron watching them disapparate one by one. "I was with him the night Yaxley was murdered—"

"You said—"

"I lied. He… he came by that night. I'd forgotten… there were some manuscripts he wanted me to look over. Just to get my thoughts on them."

Ron sighed, looking at her pleadingly. "Are you sure, Hermione?" he asked, knowing full well that she was making the entire thing up.

"I'm certain."

"Alright then, come on, we better go to the Ministry."

"I'm coming, too," said Ginny.

Ron shook his head. "No. You have to stay here. Hermione has a statement to make so she can come but this is still an official case."

Ginny sighed in resignation. "Fine," she said gritting her teeth, no doubt irritated at the idea of once again being left behind.

Hermione began to leave, pausing to turn to look at Luna apologetically.

"Go," she urged before Hermione could get a word out. "Do what you have to do, Hermione."

"And let us know if there's anything we can do to help," added Rolf, his arm wrapped consolingly around his wife.

She gave them a single nod and turned to Ron. He took her hand without a word and they disapparated.

Ron practically raced her through security. To her chagrin, she was made to turn in her wand again. When the lift doors opened, Harry was in front of them, his eyes widening in surprise at seeing them.

"Hermione—Ron—good, I was just coming to tell you. Apparently Greyback was found in his cell. Dead. No mark—"

"In Azkaban?" she exclaimed. "How would Theo have gotten into Azkaban?"

"I don't know, but it looks bad on the Ministry. First, we couldn't stop Death Eaters from escaping prison, and now, we can't stop them from being murdered inside prison— Kingsley is willing to hear your statement but the evidence—"

"What evidence?" she spat.

"Yaxley's wand," sighed Harry. "They found it in his manor yesterday. Kingsley issued a warrant for the search. It was found hidden behind a portrait. They went in while he was out. They've built a decent case against him. No alibi for the time of death, abusive Death Eater father, close relationship to the Malfoy's, and he was recently fined for the possession of owning an illegal portkey."

Hermione visibly gulped.

"He does have an alibi," she told Harry. "I saw him. That night—"

"You said—"

"I know," she winced. "But, he came over and—look I'll explain everything to Kingsley. Just get me in a room with him. Tell him I have a statement to make."

Harry removed his glasses, cleaning them on his shirt. "It doesn't make sense," he muttered absently.

"Harry, did you hear a word I said? I want to speak to Kingsley, or Agent Davies, or even Finn. Just get me in a room with them!"

"Why would he keep it?" he sighed in frustration to Ron. "Why keep the wand?"

Ron folded his arms over his chest. "I don't know," he frowned in thought. "Impulse decision?"

"He wouldn't have kept the wand. Theo is too smart for that—see this is what I'm trying to tell you. He didn't do it! He's innocent—"

"Yet they found it," concluded Harry, putting his glasses back on. "The Ministry was given access to his home years back when his father was incarcerated but apparently his house is barred, even his Floo network is closed, limited entry to only three people—"

The lift dinged again, distracting Harry. All three shared a questioning look and turned their heads as the doors opened.

"Blaise," sighed Hermione in relief. "Good, you're here—"

But Blaise Zabini shoved past her, an expression on his face Hermione had never seen before. One of pure rage. He drew his fist back and punched Ron square in the jaw. "YOU SON OF A BITCH!" he screamed. "You think you can fucking touch my wife—MY WIFE!"

Harry and Hermione, who were frozen in utter shock, flickered back to life.

"Stop!" she cried grabbing onto his arm before he could land another punch. "Blaise, stop!"

Harry began wrestling with the other arm.

"Blaise, stop, just listen—!"

But he was suffering such rage that he could focus on nothing else, and in an instant, he'd thrown them both off, his hands wrapping tightly around Ron's throat.

"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU, WEASLEY—!"

A burst of light hit Blaise on his side and he fell, releasing Ron, who leaned against the wall, choking for air. Hermione stood in front of Blaise as he made to stand up, her hands out in front of her, begging him to listen.

"Stop—!"

"You're attacking the head Auror of this department! You'll get yourself arrested!" warned Harry, his wand trained on Blaise.

"Listen to him!" she urged. "Besides, Theo needs your help right now, he's in trouble. He's been arrested for Yaxley's murder—Greyback is dead too."

Something flashed in his eyes, simmering his rage. "Where is he now?" he ground out.

"Downstairs," said Harry. "They're holding him there before they transport him to Azkaban. He'll be there indefinitely till the trial. No bail—deemed a flight risk."

Blaise snarled, his eyes returning to Ron who was clutching at his neck. "Mark my words, I'm going to ruin you, Weasley. And when I'm done doing that, I'll kill you."

He stepped back into the lift, his eyes burning a hole through Ron, till the doors closed and the lift began to descend.

"What the hell was that?" spat Harry.

"Not now," she frowned, throwing Ron a dirty look. "I need to talk to Kingsley! Stay with him—"

"No, I'm fine," he wheezed holding his hand to his split lip. "Harry, go with her. I know the healing charm. I just need a minute."

Harry nodded. "Alright," he said, taking her wrist and leading her toward Kingsley's office. "Let's go."

Hermione remained silent all the way there. When they reached his door, Harry knocked and asked her to wait outside for a moment. A minute later, he came back out and said she could come in. Entering the large room, she saw a long table, one that didn't suit the rest of the office's interior—probably conjured for special purposes when Kingsley needed more chairs and workspace. Agent Davies and Finn were seated across from him.

"Hermione," he said gravely. "Harry tells me you have new evidence to present to us."

She nodded, doing a diligent job of avoiding the others watchful eyes on her.

"We understand you want to retract your earlier statement."

"Yes, Minister, I want to amend it," she corrected.

"Go on, then," said Kingsley, offering her a seat at the table.

She took it hesitantly. It was hardly a formal setting similar to the way her first interrogation had been conducted but they were willing to hear her out, and that was enough.

"Miss Granger," started Davies, and Hermione cringed realizing that the Muggles were the ones doing the interrogating again. "What is it about your previous statement you'd like to amend?"

Hermione cleared her throat, reciting what she'd planned to say. "You asked where I was during the time Yaxley was murdered and I was at home—just as I'd said—but sometime around ten-thirty, Theodore Nott came to see me. He had manuscripts—"

"Manuscripts?" interjected Kingsley. "What manuscripts?"

"The publishing house—Obscurus books, we used to receive unsolicited manuscripts all the time. Sometimes we'd keep a few to see if there was anything worthwhile. He came by wanting to know if I could read them during my spare time and get my opinion on the ones he'd selected."

"You're certain?"

"Theodore Nott and I don't have the type of relationship where he just casually 'drops by'," she said softly. "So yes, I'm certain. I'd just forgotten it was that very night when he came—"

"And what kind of relationship do you two have exactly?" cut in Finn.

"Professional," she enunciated. "I worked at the publishing house he owns."

"Chief-editor," supplied Kingsley. "If I'm not mistaken..."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, he was my employer, so to speak. He stayed a few minutes to discuss the manuscripts and the possibility of me coming back to work."

Davies was scribbling down notes and Hermione longed to know what was being written. She watched as Harry's brow furrowed, lost deep in thought.

"Your employer," repeated Finn softly. "Your… employer…"

She pursed her lips angrily. "Isn't that what I just said?"

He bit the inside of his cheek. "And have you," he gulped, "ever been intimate with Mr. Nott?"

Their eyes locked.

And Hermione saw it then.

Couldn't fathom how she'd missed it before.

She paled, her throat going dry.

She couldn't swallow.

"I don't know what you mean," she whispered, clasping her hands in her lap.

He smiled, almost to himself. "She doesn't know what I mean," he chuckled.

"Look, you've got this all wrong," said Harry suddenly. "I think I know what's going on—"

"Mr. Potter," said Davies, with a leveled look at him. "You're permitted to be present but you're not permitted to interfere. Now, answer the question, Miss Granger."

"Listen," he pleaded to Kingsley. "This is Malfoy's doing."

Hermione swallowed. "Harry, be quiet—"

"How so?" Davies demanded, her shrewd brown eyes narrowing in thought. But the man sitting next to her, his expression was impassive, waiting, almost… bored.

Her world was spinning.

"I believe he killed Corban Yaxley and Greyback—"

"Harry—"

"He planted Yaxley's wand in Nott's home."

"Impossible," spat Davies, standing up. "What evidence do you have?"

"Just think! Why would Nott have kept the wand?"

Finn tilted his head ever so slightly. "Who knows why people do the things they do…"

"I know," said Harry, digging his finger into his chest with conviction. "I knew it from the beginning but no one bloody listens to me!" Davies folded her arms and waited. Harry had finally got her attention, but Hermione was terrified about what he was going to give away.

"Harry," she warned.

"Just listen," he spluttered, rambling on. "Greyback almost killed him and Corban Yaxley killed his father, no one had more motive than him. He knew if he killed Corban Yaxley and placed the initials M L on his arm it would make the front page news. He even left the body in a muggle part of New York—"

Hermione watched as the man in front of her leaned back in his chair, a pen balanced between his fingers.

"Harry, stop talking—"

"But he covered his tracks. Not a trace of evidence could be found that he was still alive or ever there— but he needed a way to steer the investigation toward his family and friends, away from any suspicion that it might have had something to do with Fred Weasley—"

"Why?" cut in Davies.

"To make it look like someone close to him had done it. I believe he intended to frame Nott for it," he answered. And then he took a steadying breath and looked at Hermione with something akin to regret. Hermione realized too late where Harry was going with all this.

"Harry, shut up—!"

"To punish him for becoming involved with Hermione. Nott wasn't just her employer."

Her eyes widened. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she hissed furiously.

"Is that true?" asked Kingsley, his eyebrows raised up to his hairline. "Were you involved with Theodore Nott?"

She looked down at the wooden surface of the table. "No," she lied, wringing her hands in her lap. "I don't know what he's talking about."

Agent Finn let out a low dark chuckle.

They all looked to him. He was twirling a pen in his hand again, looking at it as he spun it around, and around again.

"Shame on you," he murmured softly. "After all this time Hermione, and you still don't know how to lie."

In the blink of an eye, the pen morphed into a wand. A spell hit Harry squarely in the chest and he crumpled to the ground. Kingsley was faster and he threw a hex but Finn deflected it, ricocheting off his shield charm and onto Davies, who'd been reaching for her gun. Her body hit the wall and she slumped to the ground, unconscious.

"Alarte Ascendare!"

Kingsley was propelled into the air, his head hitting the ceiling and he fell back down. Ropes appeared, binding his entire body and when he struggled against them another jet of light hit him and he grew rigid, laying still on the ground.

Hermione winced, having anticipated that something like this would happen if Harry kept talking, but he hadn't listened to her. She could only watch, paralyzed in her seat, her hands clutching the armrests, her knuckles turning white.

His chest was heaving, his hair disheveled from the fight. He moved it out of his face, running a hand through it, smoothing it down. He went to the door and opened it. With one swift movement of his wand, Harry, Kingsley, and Agent Davies were thrown outside into the corridor.

She heard him close the door and mutter the spell to lock it.

A special spell.

A sealing lock.

One he had learned from her a long time ago.

"Potter," he grumbled, sitting back down. "Always has to go and ruin a perfectly good plan."