"Stealth is probably one of the most important things for an auror" Harry lectured.
The recruits were firm in front of him, none of them meeting his gaze. There were only seven left, and they were learning quickly to act like professionals. At least, in front of the authority. Also away from it, if they knew what was good for them.
"You need to follow your objective without being seen or heard. You must keep the secrecy. You must be sneaky and smart. If you are a Slytherin, maybe those elements are already part of you, but if you are a Gryffindor, everything in you will scream against it."
"Dark wizards are Slytherins…"
Harry stared to the impulsive newbie. He was so very young.
"… Sr" the young one completed, inhibited.
He looked like Neville, now more than ever. Maybe because of the fat the training hadn't yet disposed of.
"And you are?"
"Hunter, Sr. Michael Hunter."
A name bigger than its beholder.
"Then, Hunter… Must we just kill all Slytherins to recreate the earthly paradise?"
The rest of recruits laughed, girls covering their mouths and blinking a little too often towards the professor.
"But the real difficulty" he continued lecturing, "is to pay attention, as you move. Not to get distracted. Not to miss what's right before your eyes."
As teenage girls, they run under the rain towards the telephone box. Muggles mustn't see water-repellent spells. Hermione puts an arm around the younger witch's shoulder and makes her come in first, before glancing nervously around and drying their clothes with a wand, as well as her own book.
"You OK?" she asks.
"It's just water, Mia" Duham jokes. "Wow, the space here is restricted."
"You should have seen the first time we came" Hermione recalls. "We were six." For a moment she remembers Harry's hands, wet with nerves, as he received the badge she passed: 'Harry Potter, rescue mission'. She smiles nostalgically.
"I think I've heard that story somewhere" Duham says wryly. "Can we move now?"
Hermione hits her head with the book, and the girl pretends to be hurt as her sister dials, murmuring: "I think those were his exact words".
"How come that you went to pick me up?" the younger asks, as the golden light extends to their knees.
Hermione tightens her lips in a line.
Actually, Azkaban's events have left a bad taste in her mouth, a sense of imminent danger. Among confusion for not knowing its origin, shame for having lost control, fear of not knowing why –not to say, of going mad-, more fear of being discovered, she hasn't been able to sleep for a minute. What's clear to her is that she does not want Duham to walk the streets alone. Nor Harry. Of course, she didn't explain that to him when she left him in the ministry earlier than ever and went to pick up her little sister.
"Mia?"
"We are at work" she attempts to distract her. "Here, it's Auror Granger, for you."
Duham follows her, eyes on her. She sees through the technique the auror hasn't bothered to mask.
Harry takes his gaze from the pale frightened boy in the interrogation room, to the two women beside himself.
"Should we let her go in?" he asks his partner.
He's caught in a flash of fear that leaves him confused, but when Duham turns to her sister, she nods.
"You've seen enough theory and pre-auror training" she says through the lump in her throat. "You'll do fine."
Harry puts his hand on his protegee's shoulder, and pushes her slightly forward. But when the girl goes through the door and, through the enchanted wall, they see her approach the suspect, only Harry's hand prevents his friend from following her.
"This one isn't violent, Hermione. In the Parkinson hierarchy, he's just a pawn" he points out. "The girl will be fine."
Hermione doesn't look at him, but she pulls out her wand and, with the other hand, squeezes his. Loose standard interrogation phrases reach them. For long minutes they only observe. Hermione has extended the wall reflection of the face and voice of the suspect, looking for microexpressions, but continues to direct nervous glances at Duham. The fear is still there.
"What's going on?"
"Not the time, Harry" she cuts.
The wizard casts a spell around, to protect them from other people's ears, and asks again.
The monotonous words of Duham -her voice, hiding perfectly the nerves of the first time- don't serve as a distraction.
"You didn't choose me to question him" Hermione states, without looking at him. "Is it because of Azkaban?"
He silently stares at her.
"I trust you, Hermione" he says at last. "Some burn-out síndrome won't change that".
"It's more than that" she points out. "If they find out... I've been doing some research, Harry... A guard is also a law representative. An attack addressed at him in his workplace can be interpreted as helping the prisoner escape. For aurors, it's military court."
The concept freezes them, and their eyes meet only for a second, until the sorcerer puts an arm around her shoulders. Her resistance is weak, if there at all.
"Nobody knows" he points out. "Stop worrying…"
"If they kick me out of the Force..." she interrupts, but she doesn't find what else to say, until the words come out by themselves: "I don't want to leave you alone."
Harry makes her face him and looks at her, before wrapping his left hand around her bracelet.
"There still isn't a way to reverse the effects of the empathic potion" he reminds her. "You won't leave me alone."
But she's already huffing.
"It'll be very useful with me too faraway to cover your back."
"Hermione, protecting me has been your full-time job since I was eleven. Don't you want vacations?"
"Of course not!" she protests vehemently.
He laughs, with that childish expression that never stops taking her breath away. She finds herself hiding her own smile behind lips tightened in a line, where Harry suddenly fixes his gaze there. And just like that, the room doesn't have enough oxygen.
"I'd like to hear you laugh more often" he says absently. "Sometimes I feel like I no longer remember the last time."
Shaking his head, he turns to the transparent wall. Hermione closes her eyes. It takes a long time to remember what they were talking about.
"About the guard" she articulates, more to distract herself than out of true interest. "I checked his background, he's clean. Of course, he wouldn't be working in Azkaban otherwise. I know where his family lives, his routine..." Her tone is one of despair, but it takes a while before words force their way out of his mouth. "What if I attacked an innocent, Harry?"
Harry does care, but honestly ... only Hermione would be concerned about the morality of her actions, more than about what they could do to her if they found out. He isn't so innocent as to not know that prison is a possibility.
He doesn't know what to say.
As he turns, the door opens and he barely has time to remove the spell before Luna slides into the room. Anyway, after smiling to them distractedly, she ignores them altogether. She doesn't even seem to stare at the interrogation room, but at some point near the ceiling. Throwing nervous glances at her, the subordinates return to their functions, watching their trainee lose patience until she picks up her papers with feigned parsimony and returns to their side. By then they have realized that they have missed the important part, and can't ask in front of the boss, who precisely at that moment seems to realize that they are still there.
"Have you seen Ron today?" the blonde asks.
"Of course we've seen him, Luna" Hermione replies patiently. "We live together, remember?"
"Oh! But I'm sure he'd like to see you right now" she replies dreamily.
Hermione tries not to roll her eyes when her chief refers to another non-existent creature, while Harry excuses himself and, with a last look at the trainee to whom they should have paid more attention in the previous hour, takes his partner's hand and pulls her out with him.
"Where are we going, Harry? The case…"
"We can't learn now anyway" he says. "Let's go see Ron."
Hermione digs her heels into the ground, and her partner turns around in surprise. With a spell that isolates them from indiscreet ears, the witch asks him.
"What for?"
Through Harry's head a multitude of answers passes. In fact, he realizes, he's used to discuss his problems with both of his best friends, and solve them among the three of them. With most cases, it's not necessary, but now it's about a third of the trio itself, the girl to be precise, and to say that it's emotionally involving would be an understatement. However, this isn't like in the old days. This time it's his partner who acted in an inexplicable way. And Ron is the authority. Although this one is also Gryffindor to the tip of his hair, and he never minded violating rules for his best friend, this matter is serious. Hermione herself would insist on being reported, if she wasn't so afraid of being separated from her partner. If she didn't fear being forced to leave Harry without her personal protection. He mustn't put Ron in that situation.
In his memory, the childish laughter of his friend the previous day, while hunting chocolate frogs.
"We cannot tell him, Harry" Hermione says. "He is the Minister. He cannot cover for us. There are legal consequences for these matters. And for covering them from a political position."
Harry nods, weary.
"But Luna says he wants to see us" Hermione huffs, and Harry hastens to point. "Luna generally isn't wrong. Call it nargles or instinct…"
The sorceress shakes her head but precedes him on the way to Ron's office.
The redheaded wizard receives him with the same tense smile as in fourth year.
"I thought your case wasn't high profiled" the minister greets him as Harry moves to let Hermione in, her expression as closed as his; after years of being aurors, masks are a reflex. "What brings you here?"
"Well, the chief told us that you were expecting us."
An uncomfortable silence weights on them as the aurors sit in front of the superior. Until Ron, addressing his wife directly, asks.
"Why did you attack the guard?"
The woman tenses. Harry's bracelet begins to shake as she must be trembling inside.
"What do you mean?" she asks guardedly.
The hurt in Ron's face doesn't go unnoticed to his friends.
"The guard who was obliviated in Azkaban, was being watched. It's known that he was attacked by an female auror on the day and time you were in Azkaban, and it's also known that measures were taken so that it wasn't known. Now, you could have told me. We could have arranged it together..." Harry is about to whisper a privacy spell, until he remembers that in Ron's office it's pre-installed, "... but now someone else knows, and if the Auror Department hasn't heard, I'm sure it will soon, even if I don't inform it myself. What I want to know is who obliviated him."
"I did"
"Harry!" his partner whispers.
Everyone turns to the blackhaired wizard. Hermione looks scared, her eyes going from Harry to Ron, and her partner suspects that she is about to take more blame than she has. Ron, on the other hand, stands up, out of anger. Harry guesses it has nothing to do with broken rules. Now, if it's because they hid this from him, or specifically foaddressed to him for sharing a secret with his wife, Harry doesn't know. He stands up at the same time, making a conscious effort not to reach for his wand immediately, but watching over Ron's.
"Put the wand down" this one orders Hermione, who only grabs it more forcefully, challenging him with her eyes. "It's not easy to cover an attack to the minister in his own office. We don't want the whole Auror Department here, summoned by the anti-spell alarm, do we?
Harry and Ron look at each other across the desk, hands in fists.
"I imagine you know" he addresses Hermione, without taking his eyes off her partner, "what will happen to both of you if they hear about this. If I had known, I would have covered it... yes, Hermione, I would have done it, should it always surprise you...? But it wasn't me who discovered it, someone else knows. The info hasn't come through official channels, so the Auror Department isn't aware. What I can do for you is this: you get out of the case right now, and concentrate on training the recruits. Focus, Hermione" he orders, seeing her instant denial, "your obsessive trait of personnality won't help. If not, they'll know. And not from me."
Harry's shoulders have relaxed just a bit. Hermione looks from one to the other, all the time remembering the details of the case they were working on while a large part of her mind displays the younger Lefaye's body. It's almost over her strenght of will even to think of leaving the case just like that, seemingly before having started, but they have no alternative. She irrationally feel blackmailed by her own husband, though she knows it's not him, but her frustración, speaking.
"I'll ask Luna to transfer you quietly to another case, any case. Something very low profile. Now leave", he sighs, and sits down, looking more tired than ever.
Harry leaves first, and the door closes before Hermione follows him. She turns to Ron, waiting.
"You were protecting him" the minister whispers, not looking at her.
"How…?"
The first one releases a bitter laugh.
"When have you gotten into serious trouble, if not to protect us... him...?"
Truly, Hermione hadn't considered it –she really didn't know what had possessed her, to act like that- but when Ron asked her, she knew he was right instantly. She knew that the shield had been, more than anything else, to keep Harry away from the threat while she neutralized it. But she still doesn't know why she saw that guard, a little younger than her, who brought the prisoner to them, as a threat.
"Do you love him?"
"What…? Ron..."
Her lips tremble a little, and silence stretches until she realizes it's up to her to elaborate.
"We thought you had gotten over it years ago... Before the kids, actually..."
Ron laughs bitterly.
"But there is a 'we' that evidently does not include me".
She doesn't answer. How to answer that?
All of a sudden, he is over her, his mouth on hers, demanding. His arms holds her tightly, even while keeping a distance from her left arm, always overaware of the bracelet, as if its touch harmed him. Hermione mirrors his actions tamely, until he pulls away and, blunt as always, asks:
"Why don't you respond?"
"I thought I was doing so" she answers confusedly.
He tries again, and again, but her lack of passion is evident, even for her.
"I'm sorry, Ron" she whispers as she feels him go
She doesn't dare raise her gaze, fearing the hurt in his eyes.
"I just knew" he says darkly. "I've known for a long time. Sensing that you feel more while training with him than while making love with me. Hell" he laughs bitterly, "there is more electricity when you look at each other from opposite sides of the room, than I've ever experienced firsthand."
"Don't be silly, Ron" she sighs.
"Do you think that I don't know why you declined taking over transfiguration classes, back when McGonagall took the headmistress position?"
She don't answer, again.
"You wanted him to be protected" Ron answers for her. "You trained day and night, even in the physical field –which you often despised–, so you'd be his shield."
"Harry needs one. I did tell him not to become an Auror, but when he did…"
"You would have loved to keep being the best of the class, and now, getting paid for it. But you left it behind, and never looked back, simply because of his own chosen work."
He sounds like a cornered beast. She raises her hand, knowing that there's no way she can reach him in the abyss of despair he's leaving for.
"I also love being an Auror, Ron…"
He turns around, evading her gaze.
"You know I worship you, 'Mione, but to be his sidekick... it takes its toll."
"I am his sidekick" she interrupts, before he specified where, "you are Minister of Magic…"
Two knocks on the door, and Harry comes in, smiling guardedly.
"Part of my team stayed behind..." he says.
The witch takes one last look at her husband and leaves, muttering an apology. Harry's eyes narrow as they turn to Ron.
"What happened?"
"Oh, just training for a third child…"
"OK, no need for details" the black-haired wizard says through clutched teeth.
"Wonder why?"
Blue eyes meet green ones with barely concealed rage.
"I don't discuss with you Ginny's favorite positions."
Ron seems a bit taken aback, and the silence stretches. Then, he shrugs. There is something in his expression that Harry is familiar with, and although honestly it does not seem like the time for it, Ron isn't one to choose proper timing when it comes to Hermione... or to anything else, really. And considering this reception, Harry is almost certain. Closing the door, he asks.
"Jealous, again? Tell me it isn't that."
"Go, Harry" the redhead says.
Harry sighs.
"Mate, you should be so over this. We have been partners for twenty years. Why did you say you were OK with her taking the damn potion if you couldn't stand...?"
"She'd have done it anyway!" Ron yells, taking him by surprise.
Harry stares at him, finds him panting, more rage in his gaze than he has seen in a long time.
"She wanted you safe" the redheaded wizard explains, rage barely held. "She wouldn't have let me substitute her, even if I had become Auror. I don't know why she doesn't trust me, or only my skills, but…"
"Is that why you didn't"
It's not a question: it's a revelation. Harry looks into his friend's eyes, and fights for words. He needs the right ones for this. Focusing on Ron's twitching right hand, he elaborates:
"Ron, I'm not threatening your relationship with her. I wouldn't do that to you, and I wouldn't endanger her. And your relationship, by the way, unlike other marriages… Well, I'm living with both of you, and as far as I can tell it hasn't faded..."
"But that's the thing" Ron insists, his voice devoid of emotions. "Nothing has ever changed. I'm still the guy who didn't take her to that ball, and you are the man she'd follow through the gates of hell. I wear the ring, but you wear the bracelet"
Harry looks away, a little breathless, and messes up his hair.
Ron's pace finally seems to take away some of his anguish. Harry follows him with his gaze, sees him produce a bottle. The golden light of the fancy room reflects on firewiskey. Harry takes the glass he's being offered.
"What do you really want to tell me, Ron?"
Dulled, his voice reaches his friend:
"She has never, ever, told me she loves me."
Silence weights on the room.
"I was at your wedding, buddy" Harry says. "I heard her vows…"
And the memory -Ginny's hand on his shoulder, the stupid smiles of everyone as something nameless burned inside of him- almost makes him throw up. Ron's laughter, today, has no joy.
On top of it, back in the Auror Department, he cannot look her in the eyes, and Hermione also shuns his gaze.
Preview
Harry remembers what Ron has revealed to him, about this woman's long-lasted devotion, so beyond that of others, precious mystery knitted around her. And the rest. He sticks his nose in her hair, remembering everything they have gone through together, all the times she has been the only thing between him and death (literally and figuratively), the times he has gone back to life because she was calling him, wondering if it has only been the bracelet's power, or if this one have even been a large part of it. "My guardian angel" he thinks, holding her tighter, his head leaning on his companion's neck (so fresh and warm, so small and so powerful at the same time).
I have been struggling with the scene for a while. H&H might be playing platonic and deluding themselves, following the law to the letter, but I'd really hate to be in the husband's shoes. Have I sweetened it too much? Please do tell.