Chapter Two Lost

"Didn't you know him?"

Helen Michaels looked up from her desk to see Darcy Morgan standing in front of her, waving a copy of The Daily Prophet. "It's about that big retrial in England."

Helen snatched the paper and began pouring over the article. "No, I don't know any of them," she lied, her eyes scanning the article quickly so she wouldn't see any names. She knew if she was to see his name, she'd break down.

Leaving England was one of the hardest things she had ever done, next to changing her name. She didn't say goodbye to anyone, fearing that all the crying and emotion that would come from something like that would make her change her mind.

She had to leave, there was no doubt in her mind. Watching Ron's trial, sitting there, powerless to do anything because he begged her not to say what she knew she should have said, racked her with guilt. The guilt, she could live with. It was watching him sit there and take everything the prosecution said about him and never lifting a finger to defend himself was what killed her. In school, he had always flown to his feet to defend himself, whether it was with words or with his fists, but during the trial, he had just sat there. The lawyer, she remembered bitterly, hadn't tried to defend him either; he had just waited for the whole thing to be over with so he could go back to his office.

Her throat tightened when she remembered the day the verdict had been passed. Guilty. The victim's family had cheered, shaking the prosecutor's hand and shouting their thanks to the jury. The entire display had sickened Hermione because they didn't know what he was really like. They didn't know that the night he died he had tried to do something horrible, and that his death was the only thing that stopped him.

Ginny had burst into tears, almost jumping over the rail separating them from the front of the courtroom to get to Ron. The bailiff had allowed him to say his goodbyes, first to Ginny and the rest of his family, then to Harry and finally to her. Ginny bawled into his shoulder, promising she'd do anything and everything to make sure he got out. He had kissed her head and told her it was okay and as long as she was all right, he would do whatever he had to. One by one, he said goodbye to his family, telling each one he'd be all right and asked them for him not to worry about him too much. His mother had cried hardest, and after he had said goodbye to her, he began to cry. He and Harry had hugged briefly, Harry promising he'd help do whatever he had to do to help get him out. Ron had smiled at him, telling him to watch out for Ginny before he locked eyes with Hermione.

The force of his gaze had almost caused Hermione to stumble back, but the minute she started crying, he wrapped his arms around her and let her cry. She had wrapped her arms around his back and held on as if her life depended on it. When the bailiff tapped him on the shoulder and told him it was time to go, he had leant down enough to kiss her cheek. "I love you," he had whispered into her hair, loud enough for her to hear but not loud enough for anyone else.

Hermione watched him go, her heart pounding harder than it had ever before. She'd waited so long to hear him say that to her, and now that he had, she felt like the luckiest woman in the world. But the minute her mind screamed she'd never see him again, her world came tumbling down.

That night she bought a boat ticket to France, intending to spend the rest of her life in a section of the remotest part of the Alps in southern France. Just before the ship docked in the Port of Calais, she ran into Michael Cavanaugh, an Irish wizard from Delvin. He had been several years ahead of her at Hogwarts, but his charm and easy manner attracted her to him. They spent the week in Paris, sightseeing and touring museums before she left for the French Alps.

She found herself at a lodge in Chamonix, bussing tables and serving hot chocolate to the skiers dropping by. One afternoon, on her day off, she spilled her cup of coffee all over none other than Michael Cavanaugh. After apologizing, he bought her another cup of coffee and asked her out to dinner. She declined, insisting he enjoy his time at the resort. The next day, she found her room in the lodge full of exotic flowers of every kind, courtesy of Michael. A card attached to one of the bouquets asked her to have lunch with him the next day, and feeling as if she couldn't decline this time, she accepted.

The date was at one of the resort's finest restaurants, and they spent hours talking about their lives. He hadn't passed judgment on why she left, or even suggested she go back. He was an excellent listener, something Hermione needed, and he was a very smart man, having interests in art, science and literature. As the conversation drifted toward these subjects, Hermione found herself falling for the Irishman.

Broken hearts don't just heal overnight, however. She was constantly plagued by thoughts of Ron. Of him getting out and coming to find her in the arms of another man. She woke up, shaking and sweating some nights, from dreams of him finding her, of starting an new life together. And one dream even went as far as them having three beautiful children and growing old together. Most dreams, however, ended the same way. Her waking up and facing the harsh reality. He wasn't coming to find her. They'd never have a family together. They'd never have a life together. End of story.

Michael stayed for three months, their relationship growing. When he asked her to come back to Dublin with him, she pushed the doubts echoing in her mind aside and left with him. Upon arriving in the seaside town of Waterford, she used her mother's first and maiden name, Helen Michaels. It became official four months later.

They had been dating for four years before he officially asked her to marry him. For a fleeting moment, Hermione envisioned Ron in front of her, on his knee, asking the same question. In that moment, Hermione realized she'd never love Michael the way she loved Ron and that if she were to accept his proposal, she'd be settling. It was during that moment, everything came crashing down, and in a state of emotional duress, she accepted. Michael may not be Ron, but he loved her and she believed, that with time, she could return that love in the way he deserved.

She sat back down at her desk, twirling the engagement ring Michael had bought for her. It was engraved To my everything, and every time Hermione looked at the inscription, she was flooded with guilt. She may be his everything, but he wasn't hers. Her everything was currently involved with what was considered the biggest event of the year, possibly even the decade.

And it killed her.

"Darcy?" she called, looking around for the petite brunette. Darcy popped into the back room, watching Hermione carefully through narrow eyes. Hermione knew she didn't believe her when she said she didn't know anyone from the article. "If anyone calls for me, tell them I'm out for the week and I won't be back until late Monday."

"Plans with Michael?"

Hermione heard the disdain in her voice, but chose to ignore it. She knew Darcy was jealous, of her career and of her boyfriend, but if she was to tell the truth, she'd give it to Darcy in a heartbeat if she could just go back to England and pretend like nothing had happened. "No, it's a personal thing," she replied, gathering some books and pushing them into her bag. "I have some unfinished business to attend to back in England."

"Good luck," Darcy said brightly. "And have a nice trip. I hear England's beautiful this time of year." Hermione turned her back towards the smiling woman and rolled her eyes at the underlying message. She pretended to not notice when Darcy mumbled, "I hope your ship sinks," under her breath.

"Have a great weekend Darcy," Hermione told her as she walked out of her office. "And since I'm going to be gone Friday, I'm afraid you're paycheck will have to wait until Monday."

Darcy's groans of protest fell on deaf ears as Hermione walked out into the crisp fall air. The leaves were just beginning their cycle of colors, and as the wind ruffled the branches, an array of leaves drifted through the air, floating to the ground lazily. Hermione breathed deeply and sighed, letting the cool air circulate through her lungs. She found that the perfect solution to thinking too much was cool, fresh air and a beautiful day.

As she walked the familiar path towards her flat, her mind began to wander. She saw a woman and her redheaded little girl walking on the other side of the road, and she tried to imagine having children with Michael. They'd be cute, with dimples and freckles, maybe brown eyes, red hair…

She shook her head vigorously, trying to get the image of the little redheaded girl out of her mind. Why won't he leave me alone? she thought miserably, slowing her steps to a stop and collapsing onto the closest bench. She ran her hands through her slightly frizzy hair exasperatedly and sighed, letting the tousled strands fall back into place. What are you waiting for?

XxX

The Irish Ministry was a mess, full of witches and wizards scrambling from department to department in an attempt to collect the information they needed. As Hermione stepped into the Department of Outer Ministry Travels, she smiled, suddenly feeling as if she wasn't the only one who's life was a complete mess at the moment.

She'd left a note at Michael's flat, saying she was going to see a cousin in America. She felt horrible lying to him, but she knew he wouldn't want to hear the truth. Telling him she had business in England would be like telling him she shot herself in the foot, he wouldn't understand her reasons and would try to talk her out of it. And if he were to succeed, the issue would never come up again, meaning Hermione would never get the chance to do anything about the gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach.

As she waited for her passport validation in line, she looked down at her hand, the hand that held the engagement ring. Seeing it, sitting on her hand in such a possessive way, made her skin crawl. She had the sudden urge to chuck it in the closet wastebasket, but when the urge subsided, she dropped it into the tote bag in her hand. Suddenly, a wave of guilt washed over her, but it was quickly diminished by the bolt of electricity shooting through her. For the first time in a long time, she felt as if everything could work out. And in her favor for once.

XxX

Ginny trudged into the suite at midnight, kicking off her shoes and collapsing into one of the armchairs, a smile plastered on her face. She and Georgette had discussed the case all afternoon, writing drafts of motions and going over the evidence from the last case. As she had expected, Georgette poked holes in everything, pointing out the weaker aspects and giving her advice on how to play up on them. Together they had called Nick Gates, arranging for a meeting the next day. She knew he wanted to make a deal, but Ginny had firmly instructed Georgette to take nothing less than parole as a punishment.

She padded into the bedroom, her feet silent against the thick carpet. Carefully, she placed her briefcase in the bottom drawer of the dresser, placing a locking charm on the drawer before beginning her search for her suitcase.

Earlier that morning, she and Harry had packed three suitcases, one for her, one for him and one for Ron. Harry had shrunk them, and kept them in his pocket all day, promising to leave hers in her room. She picked up the pink suitcase and tossed it on her bed, almost jumping out of her skin when she heard something say, "Oomph!"

Ron had been lying on the bed, and in the dark, Ginny hadn't noticed his sleeping form. He pushed the suitcase off him, a bewildered look in his eyes as Ginny flipped on the lights.

His hand flew up to his face, covering his eyes. Ginny giggled when she realized he was wearing her old Weird Sister's shirt that barely covered his stomach. He looked down, a blush slowly creeping into his neck and ears. "It was the only thing I could stand to sleep in," he mumbled, his hand moving to the back of his neck.

Ginny continued laughing, pointing at bottom of the shirt. "Why didn't you enlarge it?" she cackled, holding her stomach.

"I don't have my wand!" Ron replied, "Harry was already asleep, and Merlin knows it takes a storm to wake him. Can't you just enlarge it and forget this ever happened?"

"No," Ginny told him, picking up the camera she'd kept in her handbag. It was a disposable Muggle one that she used to take pictures of documents she needed to inventory incase anything ever got lost. She snapped a picture of Ron's bewildered face and smiled. This was the first time she'd seen something besides pain or forelorness on his face. "Forever preserved," she mumbled, pulling her wand out of her handbag and muttering the spell to enlarge the shirt. It grew until it hit the waistband of his trousers and he sighed in relief. "There. Now," she began, pointing her finger at him. "Make sure you get enough sleep. Tomorrow, Georgette is taking you to the prosecutor's office and you have to be looking sharp."

"Who's Georgette?"

"She's my old law professor, the one I told you about. She's going to handle the out of court decisions while I start to assemble the arguments."

Ron scratched his head absently, watching she bumbled around the room, putting her things away. "Does she know…" he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"No," Ginny replied shortly. "The only person that does, besides us, is Hermione, and we're going to keep it that way."

Ron nodded, tracing a pattern on the bed. Why was it his stomach still jumped whenever someone said Hermione's name? It's been six years since he heard someone else say it because, sometimes, late at night he used to say it out loud, just to make sure he wasn't losing his mind. Her memory was the one thing keeping him from going completely insane. Day after day, he sat alone in a dark, cold cell, waiting for his sanity to escape. Half the people incarcerated, a guard once told him, went crazy after a few days in solitary confinement. Not many could stand more than a year, and almost all of the rest were crazy after a year and a half. Ron had been in there six years, waiting for the day he wouldn't remember anything. But it never came. Now, he was glad it hadn't, because if it had, he wouldn't be able to enjoy this moment of freedom.

He heard the bathroom door shut, and he realized Ginny had left. He shook his head, trying to get the mental image of Hermione's eyes out of his head. He'd always loved her eyes; they were always so full of passion. No matter how stoical her face was, no matter how frigid her attitude, her eyes told him everything he ever needed to know. They told him if she was upset after one of their famous spats, still angry with him over something or if she had cooled down enough for him to apologize without the risk of her turning him into a cockroach. He could stare into her eyes for days, and when he found himself lost in them, he found it hard to breathe.

He smacked the side of his head with the bottom of his hand, cursing himself mentally. Here he was, mooning over her while she was probably perfectly happy without him. A small voice in his head told him he'd never be happy without her, while another part told him he could move on. Eventually.

He walked over to the window, trying to calm his restless mind by looking out into the darkness. It was a new moon, so nothing was visible. Just darkness. And even though Ginny was in the bathroom and Harry was in the next room, he felt more alone than he did right now. He found himself wondering if maybe, just maybe, Hermione was feeling just as lost.

XxX

Hermione sighed, feeling more restless than she had in days. She'd rented a room in a little hotel just outside of London at noon and had been cooped up in there ever since. She couldn't risk any tabloid seeing her before she was ready to face them and Ron.

Ron.

The thought of seeing him again, after so long and so much had happened, sent a shiver down her spine. She'd tried to imagine, from what she remembered and the brief glance of the picture in the picture she'd seen this morning, what he looked like now. She'd seen the jagged scar along the left side of his face, and she wondered how it had gotten there. The vacant look on his face told her he'd seen more than he had ever wanted to see, and a pang of guilt shot through her. If she had spoken up…

But, a voice in her head hissed, he told you he'd handle it. That whatever happened, he could handle it, and you knew he wasn't doing this out of misplaced heroism, he was doing this to save her. To save you. That was when you finally realized, no matter what, he'd do anything for you. And that's what made you fall even harder for him.

"You were stupid," she mumbled, tracing the outline of a heart on the window. The glass was cool beneath her warm fingertips and she shuddered when her fingertip became cooler. "You didn't know what you were getting into."

She looked up at the dark sky, dotted with the occasional glimmer of light from a star. The moon wasn't visible, and her soul suddenly fell cold with forlorness. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to get the feeling to leave. As she watched the sky, the stars twinkled merrily, mocking her sadness. It was at that moment, she realized she'd been murmuring his name softly, letting it roll off her tongue and into the heavy air.

She walked across the room, trying to calm her racing heart. Memories began to fill her mind, flashing across her eyes like a slideshow. The feeling evoked by these memories were so powerful, she had to sit on the edge of the bed.

Throwing herself back onto the scratchy comforter and unforgivably lumpy pillows, she closed her eyes and surrendered to the pull of her subconscious, falling asleep almost instantly.

Hermione walked out of the pub, needing some fresh air. She was finally going to tell Ron how she felt, but by the time she'd worked up the courage to say something, he had left the table and followed Ginny into the crowd. She was out here to try to regain the courage before facing him.

She heard what sounded like crying from around the corner, and upon hearing a man's voice talking in a soothing tone, she rounded the corner cautiously. When she saw who was doing the crying, she gasped.

A man was lying on the ground, bleeding from his stomach. Hermione immediately recognized him as Ginny's ex boyfriend, Thomas Whittingger. Ginny was standing above him, sobbing into Ron's shoulder as he tried to quiet her. Clutched in his hand, the handle covered in a white handkerchief, was a bloody steak knife.

Hermione stood statue still, willing her breathing to slow. Ron, however, looked up from his hysterical sister long enough to see her. "Hermione," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. "It was an accident-"

Before he could finish, Hermione turned around and ran.

XxX

Finally! And just in time, because I'm going to be in Las Vegas all next week, so another update isn't schedualed until I get back. Sorry. The story took a little twist, thanks to some of the reviews I've been recieving. Hermione's original involvement was going to be very limited, but at the insistence of some R/Hr action, I'm bringing her in early. Don't worry, her original mission is still the same, just the leading up to it part has changed a bit.

Wytil: Court summons do have the tendencies to disrupt otherwise happy and unhappy hiding places. Thanks for the review!

eckles: Your review really made me think about how I was portraying Ron. I'm glad it seemed so deep, even though I had no idea I portrayed him like that. I'll be sure to try and live up to the new expectation, I promise. Thanks for reviewing!

Vanessa Black-Zabini: Is this fast enough for you? ;)

mingingbent: Law and Order is undoubtably one of the GREATEST shows on the planet! I'm glad I found another fanatic. Jerry Orbach's passing made me lock myself in my room for a week; I was devestated. Thanks for the review, and bethankful you have two dollars, because I fear my bank is broke.

hour4chris: I plan on becoming a lawyer (continuing the family tradition, my dad's one too) and, I fear, this is the first fanfiction I've written that I've actually done research on! Plus, nine hours a day of Law and Order tends to sharpen one's law knowledge. ;) Thanks for reviewing, and good luck with your major!

More thanks are due to: brilliant-author, Quillian, krissygurl, Miss Mione, sqcgirl52, ChristinaMarie15, Lesa L, Hold-Your-Hippogriffs, DallasTexas, MIDNIGHT-PIXIE, hplovesme, quidditch7and Beauty Eclipsed. Your reviews make me so happy, so, so very excited to write the next chapter. I'm so anixous to get the next one out I can barely stand it! And for those who aren't sure about the legal aspects of the case, don't worry, I'll do my best to explain what's going on through the story. I also realize I switch POVs very often, but it's all for the greater good of the story and I find it can explain things better.

Thanks for all the feedback, and constructive critism is always welcome!

Missie