Authors Note: I'm sorry it took so long to get this chapter up. Sorry its so short. I also apologize if it's crappy. Writers block is a bitch. So this chapter will probably be very…slow…and…bloody. 'Cause when all else fails…I turn to gore. Also, thoughts are in italic.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. Please don't steal that.

Feedback: All types accepted lovingly.

Warning: In this chapter, I flip around in the perspective of things. I jump from character to character so…sorry if it confuses you.

Chapter Summary: Jax gets grilled by Carson during the meeting (you might need to reference back to the explanation at the beginning of the story for the characters); Harry and Draco steal a moment (very, very short and badly written slash scene), before hearing about Ron; Hermione & Ginny find something disturbing

REVIEWS

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!

Kendra is cheese: Thanks for all the support. Hope you continue 'Will Fate Ever Be Nice to Me?' soon.

Lady Felton1: Hermione and Ginny rock. This story will eventually become all about them, but for now…sorry!

Jezebel Malice: Frankly, My favorite of all your stories is 'Lemonade Summer'. And it was a post-war/flashback story. However, it was also a one shot, and I assume you mean you want to write like a chapter story. Anywho…Thanks for the feedback, love ya.

CatJetRat: I believe I can handle a little more slash. Harry/Draco scene, just for you. As for the beta, no, I don't have one. I usually just go with what I write, but I'm willing to branch out. Starting chapter 6, you're my beta. I'll send you an e-mail as soon as I get it up. Hope it doesn't conflict with skool. As for the final question, I'm going for bi.

Futuredictator: You know, I really do love the really cute Hermione/Ginny…but it can never be a freebee. I have to make them suffer a little bit now. Actually, I think the only couple with no planned conflict is Harry/Draco…odd huh?

Chapter 4: Crucify Me

"So you mean to tell me that you allowed the only two people with inside information on the woman's death go hunt for the woman? How do you know they aren't in on the scheme? It's a shame that…"

It was at this point that nearly everyone in the room lost interest. Carson Vega stood before the room, dressed impeccably in black pinstripe jeans and a starched white tux shirt. His hair was combed neatly, his face clean shaven. On his hip was his gun, shined to perfection. How the man had managed to appear so neatly, yet arrive before everyone else (most of them either in pajamas or hastily thrown together mismatched ensembles) was a mystery. One that Jax was quickly solving with each glance at his assistant, Raziel Jones (who was completely disheveled, dressed in torn jeans and a t-shirt).

"…and they are failing in their basic duty to protect London! They rely too heavily on the ministry. We all know that the ministry is an organized pack of guerillas…"

Jax's eyes began to gloss over in boredom. Anything Carson was about to say had been said the night before. She glanced around the room, seeing if anyone else was faring better than she was. Captain Vicious Crayne was cleaning her beloved gun, oblivious to the glare her Assigner, Ray Nebat was sending her way. Jax smiled softly at the two. They were capable people, never calling for a meeting unless they had hard evidence that would end the meeting before Carson started talking.

"…Don't you agree Captain Locke?"

Jax looked up, caught in the headlights. Alexa bit her knuckles to fight back laughter. Jax shot her partner a glare, making it even harder for the blonde not to laugh. The raven haired woman then stood.

"Forgive me Carson, but I'm afraid I missed the inquiry."

The room fell silent. Vicious nearly dropped her gun, which would have earned the brunette a hearty glare, had Ray been paying attention. Instead, the young redhead watched the scene before him, awed. Even Jack Tippins, the hardest working assigner (in other words 'stiff') of his day, looked like he was about to fall out of his chair with expectance. Raziel had been shooting his sister-in-law a smug look before she stood. When she replied, it only proved to please him more. In fact, the man looked as if he was on the verge of peeing his pants with glee. Sergio Vega, however, remained still, fedora lowered over his stormy grey eyes.

Carson smiled menacingly.

"What a responsible woman you are. Who better to head the largest part of the Sapphire Shot than a woman with Attention Deficit Disorder?"

By this point, any humor that had existed was gone.

"I'm not seeing the relevance or truth of that statement, Vega."

"Relevance? How long did it take you to learn that one, Locke?"

Alexa bit her lip. Things were going downhill fast. She glanced at Sergio, who was still unfazed underneath his fedora. She knew what would have to be done if things got out of hand. What the blonde woman was unaware of was how fast things would get out of hand. She watched her partner closely, noting the tenseness building in the woman's shoulders, the way her fists rhythmically clenched and unclenched.

Please just sit down…

Sergio watched Alexa silently. Everyone knew the woman hated watching her partner fight with Carson; they also knew that Sergio was the only one who could stop Carson when the man started up. All he needed was a signal from Alexa. The blonde would massage her temples, or tap her fingers, maybe run a foot up Sergio's leg (that, of course, was the womanizer's favorite signal). Until then, the man would remain silent.

Carson watched Alexa out of the corner of his eye. For seventeen years he had lusted over the same woman. Seventeen years of wishing he could feel what he had felt once before, even if it hurt the blond woman. It was enough to drive most people insane, but not Carson. Instead, it drove him. The want to prove how inferior Jax Locke was, how great he was. Of course, it was all in vain. The blonde refused to turn from Locke, no matter how much he put into his efforts to drive them apart. But perhaps his new plan would work just as well. Brining out the monster he knew resided in Jax would be fairly simple. It was only a matter of time.

He began to circle around the raven haired woman, smiling at the frustration he was causing.

"Tell me Locke, how it feels when you working on a hard case. Tell me how frustrated you get, how eager to just go out and kill. But first, tell me how it feels when Alexa takes one look at the case and knows exactly what is going on. Do you feel inferior? Frustrated?"

Jax clenched her jaw, biting back the 'shut up' she knew would get her nowhere. Instead, she focused on the severe chagrin gnawing at her bones. She was terrible at figuring things out. It was true that she went to Alexa, and it was true that she felt inferior every time. That was where things were wrong. The raven haired woman struggled with her feelings, not knowing how obvious her angst was to the rest of the room.

Sergio smiled softly as he felt a foot rub against his shin.

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Harry moaned softly as Draco lightly bit his shoulder. The messy haired man was acutely aware of his boyfriend's hardness, pressing against his stomache. He ran his hands through the blonde's hair, smiling as he felt a tongue run over his pulse point. Skilled hands traveled along his sides, causing him to shudder slightly, the vibration from Draco's laugh only causing him more pleasure. In moments he would need release. There were times when there was just no other option. The problem, however, was his pants. His chafing black pants.

The phone, once again interrupted.

Harry growled at the object. This time, it would not interrupt. He pulled Draco down onto him, thrusting his tongue into the man's mouth. No more Mister Nice Potter. He needed this, and he needed it now. Hands flew into pants, neither man hiding their more animalistic love of the other. They finished just in time to hear the answering machine.

"Mr. Potter, this is Healer Sovera from St. Mungo's. I'm calling concerning a Ronald Weasley, who has fallen ill. We can not contact his family and are hoping you could help us in doing so. Thank You, Goodbye."

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Hermione fought off a third wave of nausea as she strode away from the chamber. They had finally managed to find the entrance, but what had greeted them inside was as far from easy to digest as possible. Two men stood in the entrance, in sentinel positions. However, they had been dead for at least two weeks. They had been frozen in place before their throats were slit, allowing them to stay in position as they died. It was as clear an omen as was possible: enter and die. Ginny had snapped out of the initial nausea first, dragging Hermione along, set on getting the job done. They had managed to plant the cameras, and had nearly reached the exit, when Hermione had froze. In a corner lay two women, chained to each other, slashed from head to toe. Their faces however, had been burned beyond recognition.

Hermione had promptly began to vomit. Ginny had only stared, unable to turn away from an image that would haunt her for at least a month. The redhead had only managed to come to her senses in time to follow her pale, shaken, embarrassed friend towards the exit.

She moved awkwardly through the uneven tunnel. The only light was that of her wand, which was getting weaker every second she moved. Her fear was causing her magic to become unbalanced, which in turn caused her to weaken. Opposite of what many believed, magic was a delicate balance of instruments and power. If one had more power than another, they had better ability. However, their ability meant nothing if they could not use their instruments correctly. It also meant that if a person was unnecessarily scared, they would cause an unbalance in ability, and therefore in the power of a spell. Less power meant less light, and less light meant Ginny became paranoid. A paranoid Ginny was a slow Ginny.

Hermione had come to this conclusion after almost losing the redhead three times. She noticed the weakness in the woman's spell, instantly knowing what was going on. Seldom did Ginny react this way to death. The redhead was the strong one of the two. When she was affected this way, things were personal. It was frustrating. This was one of the times Ginny was supposed to be strong. She was Hermione's hero, and heroes never got scared. The shaky brunette only wanted to get out, and that would not happen if her hero was unable to walk. But what could a girl say to the redhead that would hasten, yet not offend her?

Every step they came closer to the exit, and every step the redhead grew weaker. Eventually, the woman sat down with a sigh. She was defeated, unable to go on. She tucked her wand into her pocket, lowered her head to her knees, and fought back a second bought of tears.

It was then that Hermione came up with a plan.

The brunette knelt next to Ginny. She then took the redheads hands in her own, running a thumb over them comfortingly. The red head looked up at her, smiling apologetically. It was far from her character to break down twice a day. The brunette smiled back, before placing her counterpart's fingers in her belt loops. Ginny raised an eyebrow, before catching on.

The two women stood, and began to walk, Hermione in front of Ginny, who held tightly to the brunette's belt hoops.