Title: Hermione's Nightmare
Disclaimer: Same as always—I still don't own anything.
Notes: First and foremost I would like to thank my lovely beta, Manchot du Destin (definitely check out her fanfiction if you get the chance!) for nitpicking through this and for giving such brilliant praises (you make me feel all warm and fuzzy :o)
Secondly… there are little subtle hints hidden in this chapter about future characterization and plot points. Have fun and let me know if you find them!
This takes place two days after Harry woke up (chapter 1)
"## OFF, MALFOY! GET AWAY FROM HER!" Ron screamed, violently pulling on his chains. The dungeon temperature always dropped ten degrees when the Death Eaters were inside, but droplets of sweat were still visible on Ron's brow. Blood and sweat—that pretty much summed up the smell of the small, dark chamber that housed four of the eight D.A. members.
"Ignore him, Ron!" she managed to spit out, holding her chin high beneath Draco Malfoy's scathing glare. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and tried to convince herself to do the same thing. He wanted a reaction—no, he wanted all of them dead… every single one. But they were worth too much.
"Oh, am I making the weasel angry?" he laughed bitterly. Cackles were heard around the room from the other men, which only stood to make Ron shake with rage. "You know," Malfoy added, tapping his chin in thought, "I'm not allowed to kill you… but, correct me if I'm wrong, Bellatrix never said anything about not causing some pain." He looked directly at a dark haired, scantily dressed woman in the corner and wagged a long, white finger at her, "Danika, darling… would you bring the guest of honor in here, please? I think it's time we had a little fun with our dear friend Potter."
Hermione heard Neville whimper from the opposite corner. Vincent Crabbe had already had 'fun' with him earlier; from what she could tell, he had a severely broken leg. "Malfoy, you'll never get your deal if the ministry doesn't receive us all in one piece," she attempted to reason with him.
This statement was met with a harsh laugh, "You don't get it do you Mudblood? You are in no position to bargain—that's my job. A few quick spells will fix the lot of you up in a second… when the time comes. Until then--"
He cut the lecture short as the heavy metal door opened to reveal Harry, battered and bruised, followed closely by the black-haired witch, Danika. She put a delicate hand in the center of his back and pushed him forward into the stuffy room.
He looked so weak, with blood running down his face from cuts near his hairline and long, thick gashes covering his bare back; nothing like the man who, barely two weeks before, had defeated the most evil wizard of the day. His glasses were basically intact, although sweat was pushing them further and further down his nose. Danika gave him another quick shove and he fell hard to his knees in the center of the dirt floor, coughing madly. Hermione let out a weak whimper and heard Ron issue forth a string of soft curses.
The woman dug the heel of her right pump harshly into his shoulder, making him moan in agony. "There's a good lad—just making sure you're-- awake," she whispered seductively, running the fingers of her right hand through his black tresses.
Hermione sputtered with disgust, "Let him alone!"
"Ahh, is this upsetting you, Mudblood? Can't stand watching your precious boyfriend in the hands of someone so… luscious?" Draco barked at her. When she refused to answer or look at him, he backhanded her across the face roughly. She let out a yelp of pain as a ring on his middle finger cut deep into her cheek. The air next to her tensed as Ron tried to wrench himself free of his bonds, and from the center of the room Harry let out a shout of protest. Although she couldn't see the rest of her friends, she knew Colin, George, Parvati, and Seamus were in the next cell, most likely receiving the same treatment.
"No… actually I was thinking how pathetic it is that after all this time, you're still jealous of Harry," she chanced. Perhaps if she made him mad enough, he would forget Harry for a moment.
No such luck.
"JEALOUS!? Is THAT what I am? Yes, Granger, all my life I have wanted the underserved fame this-- scar has given him." He crossed the room in a few short steps and wrenched Harry's head backward by his fringe so that everyone could see the offending mark. A noise of protest echoed out of his throat as his face was thrust toward the ceiling. Hermione cringed as Draco continued, "I think it's about time we taught you a lesson about back talking, you filthy &!"
She knew what was coming—Malfoy would send one of his indecent cronies to fetch a torture device and she would spend the next ten minutes in agony, listening to all of them laugh with delight. If only she had her wand…. "Why don't you roll over and die, Malfoy… filthy piece of slime," Okay, maybe this time she had gone too far.
His face was screwed up with unrequited rage as he pounded over to her and in one fluid motion pushed her down on the cold floor, underneath him. "I know what you would like, $$##." He grabbed the cotton material of the neck of her shirt and tore it down to her elbow. He looked up and smirked at her for a moment before lowering his face and kissing the flesh of her shoulder with his chapped lips. Draco smiled sadistically, "Yes, we all know what you really want."
A sob was heard deep in her throat as he straddled her. From somewhere in the background, she heard Harry, Ron, and Neville howling in protest. As he leaned down again, Hermione strained her neck and bit him as hard as she could on the neck, drawing blood.
The last thing she remembered was Malfoy pulling back wailing, "STUPEFY!"
Hermione woke with a start, sweating profusely. She had been having the same nightmare over and over for the past two weeks. Turning onto her side, she fumbled around in the darkness searching for Ron's warm body underneath the sheets. All she could find, however, was a cold indentation in the mattress where he should have been.
She quietly climbed out of bed to reach her night robe on a hook nearby and threw it over her shoulders. She padded to the nightstand to gather her wand and slowly made her way to the door. There were no windows in the hallway but a soft glow coming from the kitchen bathed the wooden walls and the carpeted stairs in light. Before she had completely descended the steps, whispers could be heard, along with the whistles of a hot teapot.
"Ron… it makes me sick to even think about it," Harry paused for a moment. "I just—I can't tell her… or anyone."
Hermione froze for a second. What could they be talking about? She didn't have much of a chance to get a complete thought out before Harry started speaking again.
"It's so—embarrassing…."
"It wasn't your fault, mate!" Ron seemed adamant about getting his point through, "You did it to save her. Any of us would have! The reason—Malfoy wanted to make you suffer… he always has."
Hermione was torn between not wanting to eavesdrop and figuring out what embarrassing moment they were speaking of. Her integrity won over in the end, however, and she moved down the remaining steps and into the kitchen light. Harry was at the counter pouring two cups of tea and Ron was sitting at the table leaning his chair back on two legs with his arms stretched out behind his neck. They both paused as soon as she entered the room and gave her a strange look.
"I—couldn't sleep," she said hurriedly.
Ron righted his chair and held his arms out for her to come over, "Did you have another nightmare?" he asked quietly. She nodded, and crossed the room to allow him to gather her up in his arms.
Harry shifted uncomfortably with the teapot for a moment before summoning another cup from the adjacent cupboard. "About Malfoy?" he questioned.
"Yes," she admitted after a minute. Ron's arms tightened around her waist and she curled into his lap. They usually tried to avoid public displays of affection, mostly because nearly no one outside the Order knew they were together. Harry, however, knew them too well. The three twenty-one-year-olds were like a family, closer perhaps. He was the only one, aside from Ginny, who was allowed to see them in their natural state.
Wanting to avoid further questions on the subject, she scanned the room for a clock, "What time is it, anyway?"
"About six," Harry answered as he levitated the tea-filled cups onto the kitchen table and sat down across from his two friends. He seemed withdrawn at the moment, Hermione noted.
"Mum will be here soon with the post. There's supposed to be a meeting at noon… oh, and the Lestrange trial is set to begin next Monday," Ron said, taking a quick sip of his steaming tea. Harry visibly shuddered.
"The sooner this is all over with, the sooner we can all get out of this house," Hermione added. They had opted not to go under a Fidelius charm for the time being; Hermione's reasoning being that at least by staying inside the Order's headquarters, they could help out occasionally. Ginny had been forced to move in shortly after Voldemort's fall by Mad-Eye Moody. Eight members of the D.A. had been kidnapped by Death Eaters and the retired Auror had no doubt they would use any means necessary to capture Ginny also.
With the exception of Fred Weasley and a few others, Ginny was the only D.A. member not taken hostage. As much as Ginny would have liked to attribute this to her wonderful dueling skills, it was mostly because she had been guarding the exit to the underground chamber, making sure no one tried to escape. Unfortunately, they had anyway using an unauthorized portkey (a few of them, most likely). Hermione had talked extensively with Ginny about what happened that night, assuring her it was no more her fault then anyone else's.
After a long battle with Professor McGonagall, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were given permission to remain at Grimmauld Place with Ginny until the remaining Voldemort supporters were found.
"It will never really be over," Harry grunted, staring gloomily into his teacup.
Ron raised his eyebrows and leaned over to look into his friend's cup. "I don't think you'll find the Grim in there, mate."
Harry made an unattractive snorting noise.
"I rather like it here," said a quiet voice from the hallway. Turning toward the noise, for the first time they noticed Ginny had woken up and was standing in a loose night robe in the doorframe. She pushed her short red hair behind her ears and crossed her arms, "Is this a private party?" she asked. Ginny had, along with the other three, been living in the headquarters.
"Of course not," Hermione said, smiling.
"Morning, Gin," Ron smiled. The bags under his eyes had begun to recede slowly over the past few days. They had all lost quite a bit of sleep while Harry had been in a comatose state but Ron seemed to be worse off.
o-o-o-o
"You'd rather be here than the burrow?" Harry asked Ginny, cocking his head to the side.
Ginny grabbed a biscuit from the counter and crossed the room. When she sat next to Harry, her robe dipped down, exposing a bare, freckled shoulder. Harry blushed and began stirring his tea once more. It's just skin for Merlin's sake! You've seen her shoulders before... not in quite some time... but still. He looked up. Don't LOOK, you git! Oh wonderful, now Ron's giving me odd looks—probably thinks I want to shag his sister.
"Home is so… lonely now," she continued. "If I go back… it'll just be mum, dad, and me." She turned to Ron, "Admit it… when this is all over, you won't be coming back."
It was quiet for a moment before Ron spoke; he seemed to be pondering the question, "No… I won't be." He pulled Hermione in closer, rubbing his nose into her blue night robe. "It will be nice though—you know, not living in secret for the first time in…"
"Two years," Hermione finished for him.
"Yeah… life can go back to normal—whatever that means," Ginny smiled.
"I can go back to the Dursley's!" Harry said, sounding extremely excited. The quiet room erupted in laughter.
Ginny was giggling so hard she lost her grip on the teacup and it fell to the floor, smashing into little pieces. "I think—I need a new cup!" she hiccupped. She started to summon a new mug from the cupboard, but Hermione stopped her mid-word.
"No—use one of the older ones. Charlie just sent these from Romania," Hermione remarked, pointing to the teacup she was holding. "Reparo." The pieces on the floor came back together and flew up toward her waiting hand.
Harry silently applauded himself for making her laugh so hard. She looked so beautiful when she smiled—even when turning amusing shades of red. For a second it felt like old times—back at Hogwarts. Except that back then everyone was living in constant fear that Voldemort was lurking nearby… and he usually was. Now they could laugh all day if they wanted to. Death wasn't an ominous shadow threatening to rip them apart.
"Harry?"
"Hmm?" he hadn't realized Hermione was speaking to him.
"We're going back up to bed for a bit—are you planning on going to the ministry later?" She stood up and levitated their empty teacups to the kitchen sink.
"Er—yeah, I suppose I should, yeah?" It had been three months since he stepped foot inside the Auror headquarters, it would probably be a good idea to go. "That is—assuming I still have a job."
"Harry," Ginny sighed, rolling her eyes dramatically, "they can't sack you for being held hostage by a dozen dark wizard lunatics!" Ginny wasn't an official Auror yet, but she was starting her third year of training, which was to be spent working as an intern with the Aurors. Harry secretly hoped she would be assigned to him and his partner. Ugh, he thought to himself, you're despicable, Potter!
"Besides, I heard a rumor that they're planning a big 'Yay—Voldemort's Dead' party," Ron grinned. "Can't miss that."
"This from the same people who brought you the 'Darn—Voldemort's Still Alive' party," Hermione giggled.
"Oh, and the 'Shucks, he's Risen Again' bash," Ginny added, taking a bite of her biscuit. "We were too young for that one, but I heard it was a blast."
"Yeah, I'm thinking they just like to get sloshed," Harry snorted. It was true, after a long stakeout or raid, it was nice to have a firewiskey or two (or three) and celebrate something. Even Harry had been known to come home a bit tipsy from an Auror celebration.
"Hey, are those my new slippers!?" Ginny called after Hermione, who was halfway up the stairs.
"Yes, sorry! My feet were cold so I borrowed them!" She yelled back.
A split second later, two blue slippers were sailing through the air, heading toward Ginny; they hit her (twice) in the head. "Thanks," she called up to Hermione.
The two friends sat in comfortable silence for a second before Ginny reached across the table and pulled the new issue of Witch Weekly toward her. "Did you know," she said thoughtfully, "that you were voted the #1 Bachelor this year?"
Harry smiled and feigned shock, "oh really… I bet it has nothing to do with defeating a dark wizard and surviving the killing curse when I was a year old…" he paused for affect, "Must be my good looks then."
Ginny grinned, "Must be. You'll be excited to know that this year our own Ronald Weasley has made the list also."
Harry snorted, "What number?" Finally he can't make fun of me for it!
"Four—right behind Oliver Wood… Deirram Snor writes that Ronald Bilius Weasley has been spotted now and again with one Hermione Jane Granger, a Muggle born, but the nature of their relationship is unclear."
"Unclear to them," he joked. For safety purposes, they had all tried to keep their love lives from the press. If the information wasn't available, it made it difficult for the Death Eaters to use it against them if they were ever to be held hostage (like that would happen). He hadn't spoken to Ron about it, but Harry highly doubted even the Weasleys knew just how… serious the two twenty-one-year-olds were about one another.
"Ah, well… I should probably get ready for work," Ginny said, tossing the magazine toward Harry and standing up. "You're coming in later, then?"
He nodded. Sitting and talking to Ginny was loads of fun, and Harry wished she didn't have to leave. Part of him wanted to ask her to stay or ask her on a date or something…. The other half of him, however, knew she was far too good for him. She deserved someone who wasn't constantly in the spotlight, someone who wasn't followed around by the press, someone who could admit their own hidden dark secrets.
"Oy, Harry?"
"Yeah?"
Ginny had poked her head around the corner, "Mum dropped by to visit a few days ago—she's been collecting your mail. I think she left it on the bureau in your room."
"Er—thanks," he said, quite embarrassed at being caught daydreaming. He smiled as her face disappeared and footsteps were heard advancing up the stairs. Yes, she was way too good for him. She's beautiful and pure and nothing like you, Potter. He banished the rest of the dishes littering the table to the sink and made to head into the drawing room.
He had only taken a few steps when the front door opened and Remus Lupin came hurrying into the kitchen. "Harry! You're awake!" he said, grinning at the younger man.
"If I had a galleon for every time someone said that…" He was cut off mid-sentence by a bone crushing hug, quite out of character for the usually calm Lupin. After graduating Hogwarts, while studying to be an Auror, Harry had lived with him outside of Devon. They had quite a few adventures together in those two years (Sirius would have been proud). Unfortunately, a group of Voldemort supporters ruined it for the both of them when they tried kidnapping Harry in the middle of the night. He had gone into hiding not too long after that.
"It's so good to see you… I nearly went mad those few months you were missing! I felt like I failed you—I'm the only Marauder left and you slipped through my fingers," Remus admitted sadly, looking Harry straight in the eyes.
"You can't save me from everything," Harry replied softly. Remus had been like a father to him ever since Sirius had died. He gave him a home and treated him like family—not that he expected anything less. Remus had felt like it was his job to take care of Harry… for James and Lily. Harry had no doubt Remus loved him like a son, and it felt good. Now, even though he had moved on and learned how to take care of himself (maybe he had learned long ago, back at the Dursley's), if he ever had a problem, he knew he could count on Remus to help.
"Yes, I know—you can take care of yourself. But you've proved that, haven't you? Harry…" Remus choked up for a moment before continuing, "I want you to know how proud I am of you. You could have run from that prophesy… or gone into hiding. But you didn't—you grabbed it by the horns and beat it into submission. Your parents… and Sirius—they would be incredibly proud of you too. I just—want you to know how grateful I am."
Harry blushed and offered a small smile. Hearing that someone was proud of him was a great feeling. Alright, a little embarrassing... but brilliant.
Before he was able to find something to say, the large front door opened again, this time revealing quite a few Order of the Phoenix members. Molly Weasley was the first to enter the kitchen. She grabbed Harry by the shoulders and immediately started bawling. She was saying something—asking him a question, perhaps?—but he couldn't make it out between sobs. So Harry just nodded and patted her on the back. Ugh, I am so bad with women—especially when they're crying! His thoughts drifted for a minute back to his first kiss—with Cho Chang under the mistletoe. Made a git of myself that day... and afterward.
Mr. Weasley entered a few moments later and was able to pry her off. "Alright, Harry?"
Harry nodded.
Minerva McGonagall came through the kitchen door soon thereafter, dressed in long tartan robes, and clapped both hands on Harry's shoulders. He thought for a second that it was supposed to feel awkward but instead it seemed completely normal. "Well, Mr. Potter—you've certainly lived up to my expectations. Professor Dumbledore…" her eyes began to water and her voice turned hoarse, "he always considered you to be one of the most talented students Hogwarts had ever seen." She took a second to regain her composure. "Even if you did spend most of your time either in the hospital wing, detention, or under that invisibility cloak you thought no one knew about."
He grinned. I suppose it doesn't matter if she knows now... although it will be difficult for my kids to get around the school in the middle of the night if the Headmistress knows about the cloak. Wait a second—do you want your children wandering about the castle at midnight? Maybe I need to rethink this.
"Well, the famous Harry Potter was never one to follow the rules," sneered a voice from behind him. Harry knew who it was without having to turn around; he hadn't spent seven years dreading Potions for nothing.
"Good to see you, professor," Harry lied. Ugh, why today? Couldn't this have waited until—never?
"Likewise," Severus Snape huffed. Without another word, he turned on his heel and advanced into the center meeting room. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. At least I didn't have to have a long conversation with him. It could have been worse.
Minerva shook her head and mumbled something about ridiculous grudges and James Potter before following Snape into the next room.
After about a half-a-dozen more 'hellos' he decided to retreat to his bedroom. He was rather curious as to what the Order had left to discuss (leftover Death Eaters, perhaps?), but decided against joining them for the meeting. He was probably going to get caught up on the latest Dark Wizard reports in a little over an hour at the Auror Headquarters anyway. The least he could do would be to catch an extra hour's sleep. His brain felt overloaded. There were so many people to see and even more that wanted to make sure he was really alright. Part of him wanted to retreat to a silent corner and spend the rest of his life alone and the other half wanted to move on—continue living. He felt sure that things would eventually settle down—until then he would have to live day to day.
Ron pulled a jumper over his head and shoved his feet into a (hopefully matching) pair of shoes. Hermione had (of course) been ready for an hour and a half and had spent the better part of it pestering Ron to get out of bed. She's so cute when she's agitated. We'll spend the rest of our lives in mindless banter, and I am going to love every moment of it. He felt so lucky. Hermione had blossomed into a lovely woman. Beautiful and smart and all mine, he thought happily.
"Ron!" she giggled.
"Hrmph?" He grunted from underneath his sweater. His face was nearly through an armhole and he was trying to tie a shoe with the fingers of his free hand.
"Here, let me—oh for goodness sake!" She rolled her eyes and helped him push his head through the correct hole. She smiled at him and raked her fingers through his messy red hair.
He clasped his hands at the small of her back, on top of her green ministry robes. He loved it when she was dressed for work—she looked so professional. When he was younger, he thought he'd never get used to women in robes; but he had decided the first time he saw Hermione in adult robes that he had never seen someone so beautiful. Ron fingered a loose brown curl that was lying on her shoulder. "I don't think I've ever met anyone as gorgeous as you," he said softly.
She blushed and paused a moment before leaning toward him and whispering, "Better not have, Mr. Weasley." She then kissed him on the tip of his nose and waltzed toward the bedroom door saying, "I'm going to go make sure Harry's ready," and disappeared.
Ron chuckled and pulled his own robe over his head. Someday soon, he would have to have the dreaded conversation with his parents (and brothers) about the nature of their relationship. His mother thought Hermione shared a bedroom with Ginny at Grimmauld Place.
Ugh, that chat's gonna be a nightmare. It wasn't that he was embarrassed about it… alright, maybe a little… but he had just put it off for so long…. It's not like there's anything wrong with it. Hopefully mum won't get all teary eyed and say things like 'Oh my little Ronniekins has grown up,' or 'why didn't you tell us sooner?' He groaned inwardly and dragged a comb through his red hair. Yes, the conversation was definitely going to have to be a priority.
o-o-o-o
Hermione, Harry, and Ron apparated into the front lobby of the ministry. It hadn't changed much since Harry had been there last. The renovated fountain still made Hermione roll her eyes (the House elf is just staring at the wizard!), and there was still an uncountable number of witches and wizards running about chaotically.
Before that thought had even solidified in his mind, a middle aged wizard came bustling up to the trio shouting Harry's name. "HARRY POTTER!"
Harry groaned rather loudly. Was it too much to hope that he could make a quiet entrance and retreat to the safety of the Auror office without being noticed? Apparently it is too much to ask. He turned toward the man who had attracted quite a crowd behind him. Whispers of "It's the boy who lived!" and "I thought he was in hiding!" were heard among the people now surrounding them.
The large, bearded man grabbed his hand and shook it violently, "I just wanted to thank you!" Oh no. "You single handedly…"
"It wasn't single handedly," Harry interrupted.
"Yes, well… I think we would all like to give you our thanks!" he continued enthusiastically. A round of applause started in the front of the crowd and picked up momentum in the lobby so that you couldn't hear anything else. Harry turned a horrid shade of magenta and offered a weak smile. When the intense clapping had died down a bit, the man reached behind him and pulled a young, buck toothed young girl out from behind him. She looked to be about 17 years old and had extremely long hair running down her back. "This is Mafalda, my daughter! You two would get along great. Maybe…"
Harry was horrified. He shot a look at Ron who was trying so hard not to laugh that his face was turning an odd shade of purple. No help from that end of the spectrum.
Luckily, Hermione had the good sense to politely smile at the man and say, "I'm sure Harry is extremely grateful, but we do really need to be going. Harry can't be late for work!" She grabbed both his and Ron's hands and expertly wove them out of the mob of people (some of whom were still clapping).
"Thanks, Hermione that was brilliant. I wish I could think on my feet as well as you," Harry said honestly. She never ceased to amaze him. The girl was a genius no matter which way you looked at it.
"Yes, well… I was just hoping he didn't have any other relatives he wanted you to marry," she sniggered. Beside her, Ron snorted.
Harry rolled his eyes at both of them, "Alright, shut it you two! That had to have been on my 'top ten most embarrassing moments' list… which is rather long by now." He stepped into the elevator and laughed at the amount of inter-office memos that were floating around near the light. When he reached level 2, he bid Ron and Hermione goodbye and stepped into the corridor leading to the Auror section. A few memos flew by him down the hallway, disappearing into an open door.
He didn't get very far into the office before a voice, which could only belong to Nymphadora Tonks, was heard shouting his name. She emerged enthusiastically only seconds later, clad in purple Ministry robes and matching purple hair. "Alright there, Harry?"
He smiled and nodded. "Anything interesting been going on while I've been—er—away?" he asked. A few others, hearing Tonks' loud greeting, were poking their heads out of their cramped cubicles and saluting him. The office itself seemed smaller; large pictures of known dark wizards still lined the walls but now some of them were accompanied by Azkaban snapshots with large red 'Case Closed' stamps across the front. This offered Harry little relief, however. In the far corner, a large object caught his eye. It resembled a gigantic version of the Marauder's Map with tiny dots moving about the surface. He pushed his glasses further up onto his nose and squinted.
"Tonks, what's that?" he asked, pointing to large parchment covering the better half of the back wall. When he reached the end of the row of cubicles, he noticed Kingsley Shacklebolt was crouching down and pointing his wand at a place in the far right corner.
"Harry!" he exclaimed, noticing him for the first time, "Great to have you back!" He stood up and shook his hand.
"This is our newest toy, my boy!" Tonks said, waving her wand toward the map. "Remus Lupin is the genius behind it—well, along with quite a few people in the Experimental Charms Division… including that strange man with the horns. We were tipped off that there were Death Eaters congregating in a secret hideout north of London, so Lupin devised this baby to help us find them," she said proudly.
Harry detected a strange air when she said Remus's name, but dismissed it without further thought. "So this—is how you found us?" he asked, finally putting the pieces of the puzzle together. When he and his fellow D.A. members had been down in the dungeon of the Death Eater headquarters, he'd thought no one would ever find them. Thankfully, he'd been wrong.
"Yes—it was fairly easy once we had the map. The Alpha team was able to zone in on your specific location. For the past few weeks we've been working on a replica of it for an area near Bristol—now that Hermione Granger's back in the office it can get finished. The girl's a genius when it comes to experimental charms."
This statement filled Harry with pride. "She's a genius in every area, Sir."
"She would have made an excellent Auror," Tonks commented. "Anyway, we're hoping to have it finished within the week."
Harry nodded and looked more closely at the small black dots moving around. They had tiny little names accompanying them, barely visible. The map only detailed about two dozen streets, he couldn't imagine the size it had it been for London in its entirety.
"Harry Potter; is that your messy black head I see back there?" yelled a voice from a nearby cubicle.
Harry smiled and turned around, "Is it that bad? I swear I combed it this morning." Allard Baldwin had been his partner for the past year. He was twenty-four, sported straight blonde hair, eyes as blue as the Mediterranean Sea, and had a slightly bigger build than Harry. He was quite popular with the female Aurors, especially new trainees. Aside from that, he was one person Harry had deep respect for. He had smooth talked his way out of many sticky situations. They often joked that their partnership offered two strategies; Al would attempt to talk the Dark Wizard to death and if that failed, they'd go to plan B and Harry would duel them to death. During combat practice, Harry usually bested his colleague but would occasionally be thrown off by Al's mindless chatter and lose concentration.
"I don't even think I could hex your hair down, Potter," Al said, smiling. He casually walked over to Harry and clapped him on the shoulder. "Welcome back there, mate. I was wondering if I'd ever see your ugly mug again."
"What, you thought a little problem like Voldemort or Death Eaters could keep me away from this place?" He hadn't realized how much he'd missed Al during the three months he'd been away from the office. He was reminded of all the times they'd spent in boring stakeouts together. He never tired of the other man's company—they were always laughing and talking (and getting lectured about the definition of stealth).
"Nah, I just figured with You-Kno—err—Voldemort gone you'd retire to a quiet life with some unattractive hooker (would he ever live that down?) and have ten messy-haired little replicas of yourself."
"I thought about it," Harry said, running a hand through his black hair, "but how would you ever catch another Dark Wizard without me?! You being a talentless lack of humanity and all." He paused for a moment before adding, "And who would chase off all the ladies for you?"
"HA!" he guffawed, "I am not Witch Weekly's #1 Bachelor, mate, that's you."
Harry was about to throw a nasty comment back when they were interrupted by Kingsley Shacklebolt clearing his throat loudly. "Alright you two, lets get back to work. Potter, I was wondering if you were planning on continuing the D.A. through the end of the year."
The truth was he hadn't really thought about it. Was there a point in forging ahead with Dumbledore's Army now that the threat of Voldemort was diminished? "I suppose I'll have to speak with the rest of the group, Sir."
"Yes, do that." His expression softened for a moment and he added, "Just keep in mind that there will always be wizards that go bad. That group you formed—it was the strongest assembly of people I've ever seen. Anyway, I want the both of you back in training sessions by tomorrow." With that said he turned around and stalked back to his map.
Al grabbed Harry's bicep and squeezed it roughly, "looks like you've got loads of catching up to do," he mocked. "Don't worry I'll go easy on you… for a while anyway." Harry rolled his eyes and turned toward his cubicle. It was true he probably had lost some of his muscle mass. But it wouldn't take too long to gain it back. You just wait, Baldwin. I'll be back in shape in no time.
"Oh, and Potter?" He paused for a second. "You're coming to the 'Yay, Voldemort's Dead' party at the Cursed Cat tonight, yeah?"
"Wouldn't miss it," Harry replied as he crossed the small hallway into his own makeshift office. Inside his tiny cubicle was an untidy file cabinet with dozens of multicolored notes stuck around the outside. He had used temporary sticking charms to keep the Wanted Wizard pictures stuck to the walls, including photos of the Malfoys and the Lestranges. Someone (probably Al) had come along with the rubber stamp and a red 'Case Closed' mark was written across the faces in the pictures. A pink note lying on the tiny desk caught his eye. Picking it up, he saw it was from Ginny.
Harry, hope you have a nice first day back! See you at the party later this evening. –Ginny.
He smiled at the loopy handwriting and the little flowers that adorned the edge of the page. She might be a right good dueling partner and wicked with hexes but she was still quite the woman in every sense of the word. A new voice put the brakes on his daydream of Ginny.
"Hey, Harry… welcome back." A woman about thirty was leaning over his cubicle with a stack of papers tucked securely under her arm and a picture of a woman in the other hand. Harry recognized her as a member of the esteemed Alpha team. He smiled as she continued, "I was wondering if you could take a look at this picture for me? She's one of the people who escaped our ambush of the D.E. Headquarters a few weeks back. Her name is Danika Carden."
Harry blanched as he glimpsed the picture she was holding. The long black hair and the attractive smile were all too familiar to him. The woman in the picture was wearing a small red sweater and a very annoyed expression. She kept flipping her hair behind her shoulders and placing her small hands on her hips. He cleared his throat, "Erm—yeah… I might have seen her once or twice."
"Okay, well… if you can remember anything useful let me know. We think she might be the daughter of a deceased Death Eater. That's all I've been able to find so far."
"Alright… well, let me know how the search goes," he croaked.
Harry spent the remainder of the afternoon re-filing all his old cases and reorganizing his little area. He came across a few loose photos in the bottom of the last filing cabinet. The first one showed Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and himself after a Gryffindor Quidditch match Harry's 6th Year. Harry, Ron, and Ginny were sweaty and covered in mud, but grinning nonetheless. Rain was coming down in sheets in the background. They looked so young, laughing and waving at the camera (Colin was most likely on the other end). Those were the days. Merlin, I miss Quidditch. The game was so thrilling, so intense. The camaraderie on the pitch and in the stands was something you couldn't experience anywhere else. He had kept in touch with all his teammates over the years, even crazy Oliver Wood. Trying out for a professional team would be bloody brilliant. He didn't feel ready to give up working as an Auror yet, but the day was coming. Eventually he would retire from the fight against Dark Wizards. As he packed up his things at the end of the day, for the first time in a while the prospect of partying with his friends was sounding quite nice. He found himself joyfully anticipating the evening's activities.
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