Author's Note: Happy holidays, you lovely readers! I'm thrilled to bring you my 2018 NaNoWriMo project, the expanded edition of Light the Way! This story was prompted by my good writer friend GaeilgeRua last year. I worked on it tirelessly over the month of November and I am now ready to share it with you! From the 20th of December until the 1st of January, I will be updating each day with a new chapter of this tale. I'm going to do my very best to keep to that update schedule, but as it is the holidays, please bear with me if a chapter comes a bit late at some point. I truly hope that you enjoy this holiday piece. Please make sure to leave me any kind feedback you may have. I love hearing from my readers!

Feel free to follow me on twitter, tumblr, or locate my author group and/or page on Facebook. I go by xxDustNight88 everywhere! Updates to my works can always be found there!

Many thanks to thescarletphoenixx for alpha reading this chapter. Also, a very large thank you to GaeilgeRua for not only inspiring this story, but encouraging me to expand and allowing me to use her subscription to Grammarly to beta! This one is for you! Much love, xxDustNight

*NOTE* If while reading this you feel you've read it before, there is a very good chance of that. This story is the expanded version of a two-shot I wrote last year for the Holmes for the Holidays series. You can still find that piece on my profile; although it has been renamed Underneath the Christmas Lights. Please do not send me messages or leave comments telling me that this story is copied. It's not. It's mine. I just made it longer for your reading enjoyment! Thanks!

Disclaimer: All non-original characters, plot points, and information belongs to J.K. Rowling, BBC, or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. The story plot and dialogue belongs to me. I do not write for profit.

. . . .

Light the Way
Rated: M
Pairing: Sherlock Holmes/Hermione Granger
Summary: After being mysteriously attacked, Hermione finds herself under the care of Dr John Watson. Unable to travel back into the Wizarding world because of the ongoing threat, she's forced to spend the holidays within 221B trying to decipher the mystery, as well as discovering exactly why the eccentric Sherlock Holmes holds her interest and possibly, her heart.

. . . .

20 December 2018

Hermione always enjoyed Thursday evenings, mainly because she would walk home instead of taking the Floo or apparating. She lived in Muggle London, preferring it to the unpredictability of the Wizarding sectors. Besides, having grown up as a Muggle, she was accustomed to living in such a manner anyway. She didn't mind, really. It allowed her to keep her work and real life separate for the most part. Of course, her wizarding friends often frequented her flat, but it was often easier to visit them instead.

After the hardships of the war, and trying to recover afterwards, living within the confines of the wizarding world just proved too difficult. At the suggestion of her therapist, she left behind 12 Grimmauld Place where she had been living with Harry, Ron, and Ginny, and found a place she could call her own. It was small and quiet, but that was precisely what she needed. This became especially true after she was moved from the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures to the Magical Law Enforcement Department. Hermione enjoyed her life, even if it was a bit predictable at times.

It all began on a typical Thursday. Hermione, as current head of the Magical Law Enforcement Department, had conducted their weekly meeting that morning, appeared in front of the Wizengamot for a case after that, eaten lunch with Harry and Theo, and then spent the remainder of the afternoon working through the stack of paperwork that threatened to overtake her desk. She was ready to head home by the time five o'clock rolled around, and even more prepared for tomorrow to be Friday. That's why, at ten to five, she had already gathered her purse and pulled on her jacket just as Harry popped his head around her doorframe.

"Hey!" he greeted, rapping his knuckles on the wooden frame and calling her attention toward the doorway.

She smiled at his presence. "Hey, Harry," she returned, wrapping her scarf around her neck. "Coming to make sure I'm not spending the evening buried under paperwork?"

"You know me too well," Harry said with a laugh as he leaned against the doorframe. He too was wearing his jacket, fully prepared to head home to Ginny and his three children. "So you're actually leaving on time today?"

"For once," she joked, double checking that she'd stashed a few case files in her magically expanded purse. She glanced up and met Harry's face with a grin. "I am taking a few things home to read over, but other than that, it's a relaxing night in for me."

"Sounds like it," Harry said, standing up straight and smoothing out his jacket. "Ready to go?"

"I think so," she replied, extinguishing the lights in her office and following her friend out into the hallway. "Do you and Ginny have any plans tonight?"

"Ginny is just making dinner, and then we're going to pass out as soon as the kids are asleep," Harry explained, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Hermione laughed and lightly shoved her friend. "You know full well you probably will go to sleep as soon as they do," she teased.

"You're probably right," he agreed. Opening the lift doors, he gestured for Hermione to go inside ahead of him. She smiled in thanks and then he joined her. "You know, you're more than welcome to join us for dinner."

"I appreciate the offer," Hermione told her friend sincerely. "It's been a long week and tomorrow I have that case. I really just want to grab some takeout and have a night in." She gave Harry a smile as the lift took them downstairs.

"Just thought I would ask," Harry replied. "It's been a while since you came out to the house."

"I know and I will soon." Harry and Ginny no longer lived at 12 Grimmauld Place, but they did live in Godric's Hollow. Hermione still felt a bit uneasy going there even though the war was long gone. "I need to see the kids, and I'm sure Ginny could use a break from spending all her time with you and her mum."

"She really could. Not to mention George has been hanging around a lot lately too," Harry said as the lift stopped and the doors opened, revealing the Atrium.

As they moved out of the lift, Hermione said, "Well, it has to be hard for him. I really thought he and Angelina were going to last forever."

"Me too." Harry stopped in front of one of the large fireplaces that he would use to travel home. "Are you sure I can't convince you to come to dinner?" he asked once more, placing a hand on Hermione's shoulder.

"Next time," Hermione answered. "I promise."

"What are you going to do for dinner?" Harry inquired, grabbing some floo powder and preparing to leave.

"I'm going to stop at Speedy's on the way to my flat," she explained, adjusting her scarf to prepare for the cold outside. When Harry made a face, she laughed and shook her head. "I know you hate the idea of me walking home, but I'll be fine. I have my wand, and I keep to the main roads."

"I know you do, but I hate that you'll be alone." Harry frowned and glanced at the floo powder in his hand. "Let me walk you home. I can floo or apparate from your place once I know you're safe."

Sighing heavily, Hermione reached out and wrapped her hands around Harry's that held the powder. "Ginny and the kids are waiting on you. If you walk with me, you'll miss dinner. I'll be fine. Promise."

Harry glanced at her hands and then up at her smiling face. "Are you sure, because you know I don't mind."

"I'm sure," she whispered, dropping her hands and taking a step backwards. "Go on, then." Hermione gestured to the fireplace with her chin. Smiling, she added, "And make sure to hug those kids for me. I miss them."

"Alright," Harry said, clearly still uncertain but allowing his friend her choice. "I will. See you tomorrow morning. Text me when you get home."

"I promise. Goodnight, Harry," Hermione said and then watched as Harry stepped into the floo, threw down the powder as he announced his address, and then vanished in a burst of green flames.

Once Harry was gone, Hermione's smile faded, and she turned to the other exit. Quickly, she made her way to the loo that would deposit her back into the Muggle world above. As she walked through the throng of other Ministry workers heading home to their families or friends, she tried not to think about how alone she would feel once she did get back. She'd told Harry she would be fine, and she would, but sometimes she wished she didn't have to be alone. It would be nice to go home to someone she cared about for once.

It was silly, really, to want such things, but she did nonetheless. Her heart ached for George, who so recently lost Angelina. They were a slightly sweet couple. Maybe things could be worked out between them, not like it had been between her and her second best friend. Their relationship had been a disaster from the start, but they managed to salvage their friendship in the end. Still, Hermione figured that there would be someone someday that she could call her own. Until then, she would be fine on her own.

Exiting the ladies loo on the street above the Ministry, Hermione tugged her coat more securely around herself and began the walk to Speedy's. She was true to her word, keeping to the well-lit streets and keeping her wand tucked safely in her sleeve. Never before had she encountered trouble on her walk home from the Ministry but one couldn't be too careful. It was a crazy world they lived in these days.

As she walked, her heels clicked on the cement, and the wind blew something fierce. Surely, it would snow within the next few days if not that night. She could smell it in the air. She was so close to Speedy's she could practically taste the soup and sandwich she intended on ordering for her supper. Just a block or two and she would be at the tiny little shop. To save a few moments, Hermione made a split second decision to duck through a short alleyway that would lead her directly onto Baker Street and to her destination. Holding tightly to her purse strap, Hermione quickened her pace as she walked through the near darkness.

In hindsight, she probably should have remained on the main road but one never really thinks of that until after something terrible happens. Regardless, Hermione found herself thinking only of getting her dinner and then hurrying home to relax on the sofa with her case files. It was a happy thought, but that didn't last long.

It was somewhat unnerving when Hermione realised that she was no longer alone. There was a scuffling as boots shifted on the concrete and then a shadow overtook her as she tried to whirl around. Whoever was there had been waiting for some unlucky person to wander through this alleyway. She tried to hurry and get back into the well-lit streets of London, but a foot kicked out and tripped her causing her to stumble into the street instead. Before she had a chance to retrieve her wand from the inside of her jacket, a fist shot out of the darkness and hit her square in the jaw. Her neck wrenched to the side and Hermione found herself falling to her knees. Hard.

Then she found herself being dragged back into the alleyway even as she struggled to catch her breath so she could scream for help. Realising the severity of the situation Hermione how to hurry and make preparations for what was to come. There was no time to retrieve her wand from the inside of her jacket, so she pulled from her magical core and used wandless magic to end the enchantment on her purse. "Finite," she managed to mutter, effectively making her purse return to normal so that her attacker wouldn't be able to get inside.

Knowing that for the time being her secret of being a witch was going to remain a secret, Hermione struggled to roll onto her back so she could try and kick up at her attacker. She never got the chance. Whoever was attacking her grabbed her by her hair and yanked her around so that her body slammed into the ground harder than it had the first time. Then the kicking began. It was relentless. She cried out gasping for air each and every time the substantial impact of the steel-toed boot make contact with her sensitive stomach chest and anywhere else it managed to hit. She knew tears must have been pouring from her eyes her all she could do was hold on to the hope that somebody would hear her crying or Screaming or gasping or whatever she had been able to do as the attack continued.

Feeling as if her entire chest was on fire Hermione inhaled as much as she could and then begin to scream and hopes that this at least what attract some attention to what was happening in the alleyway. Her screaming echoed off the narrow Alleyway, and she was sure that someone would indeed come to her rescue eventually. However this only and raised her attacker more he was hitting her now with sis and leaning over her as he knelt next to her frail and trembling form. Still, whoever it was, did not say a word, and his face was covered in a black mask with only two eyes peering down at her in the Darkness. His hands covered in black leather gloves reached out and wrapped they're strong fingers around her neck and begin to squeeze.

This was it. Hermione knew that she was going to die tonight in this very alleyway so close to home yet so far from everything she loved. Just as she felt the last of her breath leaving her as Darkness began to overtake her mind, she thought she heard someone shot from the mouth of the alleyway and then suddenly Fresh Air with soaring into her lungs and she gasped. Through her grogginess and pain Hermione saw a man taking on her attacker, but then it all became too much the pain the lack of oxygen, and the Darkness won.

. . . .

John had just left Mary with Rosie and hoped to head over to Baker Street to check on Sherlock knowing that he was currently working and a rather intense case. Sherlock had not been answering his phone calls or text messages, so he decided that he was going to come in at least make sure he hadn't drugged himself again for the sake of a case. Things had been rather tense between the doctor and detective since he married Mary and Rosie had come into the world. Now, Sherlock was still a good friend and detective, but John worried that the loneliness would begin to eat at him until he was forced back into his old habits from before they moved in together.

John had just passed the Chinese restaurant when he heard the scream. It caused him to stop in his tracks and take a look around. Surely, Sherlock would not have brought the case back this way. He thought it was only a simple case of stolen items and not one of murder. If it did involve murder, certainly Sherlock would have called him in to help at the very least. When the screaming was abruptly cut off, John knew there was indeed trouble. He started to run in the direction of the sound and managed to stop just at the end of an alleyway across from where 221B was situated. This was where the trouble was unfolding. John could hear gasping and scrambling as somebody was mercilessly beaten, or worse, murdered.

He had no weapons on him, not even his gun, but John was a soldier as well as a doctor, so he knew how to take someone down without a weapon. Surging forward, he entered the alleyway and immediately discovered the disturbance. A bushy-haired woman was on the ground; above her, a masked man was choking the life out of her. She was crying and scratching for her dear life, but he could tell that she was losing this battle. The man had apparently taken her by surprise and was much stronger than she was. John knew what he had to do. He rushed toward the scuffle and grabbed the man by the back of his neck.

It took minimal effort, and then John slammed his fist into the man's face, although he could not see what he looked like. He was able to manage a few more good hits before the masked man managed to get free. Then, he took off running in the other direction before John had a chance to grab hold of him. In the aftermath, John found that he was barely out of breath, but his heart was racing from the adrenaline of the situation. He worried that the man would come back before he had a chance to get the woman to safety and so he wasted no time worrying about himself.

Dropping to his knees, he immediately began to check the woman over to see how extensive her injuries were. He checked her neck first, realising that at some point she had passed out. It was red and tender, and already bruising could be seen on the pale skin that was exposed from her scarf having fallen open. He lowered his head to discover that she was, in fact, breathing and he sighed in relief at that fact. Her face had scratches and bruises. John imagined that she probably had further injuries and would require medical care, but he was afraid of what would happen if you called an ambulance and waited for its arrival.

There was a slight groan, and then the woman's eyes flickered open briefly. However, when she tried to speak, it became apparent that her neck was somewhat hurt from the strangling she'd taken. "Shh," John told her. "Relax. I'm Doctor John Watson, and I'm here to help you. Can you tell me your name?" She groaned and shook her head which only seemed to make things worse. "Never mind. We'll figure that out later. You're going to be fine." Frowning, John realised she'd passed out again.

Taking it upon himself, he carefully lifted the woman into his arms and decided that he would take care of her himself. If he waited to get her an ambulance, who knew how her condition would worsen. Gently, he carried the woman out of the alleyway and across the street to where 221B Baker Street sat. He rang the bell and waited for Mrs Hudson to answer the door. He did not have to wait long for the door opened only a few seconds after he rang the bell. Mrs Hudson looked startled to see him standing there with a woman in his arms.

"John? What happened? Who is this and where is Sherlock? I haven't seen him in at least two days," she said as she opened the door wider, allowing John to elbow his way inside.

"There was an attack, Mrs Hudson, just across the way. I managed to stop the masked man, but this woman was severely injured and requires medical assistance," he explained as he started for the stairs. "Do you mind if I take her upstairs?"

"Oh dear," Mrs Hudson gasped as she quickly shut and locked the door behind herself. Following after John, she said, "Of course! Take her to the living room. What can I do? Do you need any medical supplies?"

"I'll need my spare doctor's bag that I keep in my room still upstairs. Do you mind retrieving it for me?" John paused at the top of the stairs and allowed Mrs Hudson to open the door into the living room. He slipped into the room and placed the woman on the sofa after having had to wait for Mrs Hudson to clear off stacks of Sherlock papers.

"I'll go and get that right now. You just make sure she's alright," Mrs Hudson said, patting him on the shoulder as she hurried from the room.

John listened to her footfalls on the stairs leading to his old bedroom before he began to carefully unbutton the woman's jacket so he could further inspect her injuries. "What did he do to you?" John quietly asked, although he knew in her unconscious state she could not hear him.

After freeing her from the confines of her jacket, John was able to discover that she probably had her fair share of broken ribs and perhaps slight internal bleeding. However, that was something that would need to be tested further at a hospital. Right now, he did not have time to get her there. He needed to ensure that she would live as of now. Mrs Hudson returned to the room just as he was unbuttoning her blouse.

Mrs Hudson was gracious enough not to comment on the fact that John was undressing the strange woman in the middle of the room. Instead, she handed him the bag and then stepped out of the way so she could go and set a fire in the grate. "The poor dear must be freezing. It's so cold out there tonight that even I was forced to turn up the heat. Sherlock never keeps this place warm enough, and I have no idea where he has been these past few days."

John shot a look over his shoulder at Mrs Hudson. "I haven't been able to get ahold of Sherlock either. Do you know how his case is coming along?" John returned his attention to the woman and the bruising he could clearly see on the sensitive skin of her abdomen.

"I thought he had finished his case," Mrs Hudson explained as the fireplace came to life. "But he dashed off the other day without even a goodbye, and I haven't seen him since. Although, I suspect that he will return soon. He usually does when he senses a disturbance at the flat." Mrs Hudson gave John a smile and then moved to the kitchen to begin making some tea.

"Mrs Hudson, I don't think that she will be conscious enough for tea anytime soon," John teased but never stopped making sure he was dressing the woman's wounds correctly.

"Oh, I know that," Mrs Hudson said with a sad smile. "This is for you and for me."

"Thank you for everything, Mrs Hudson," John said, sitting back and staring at his handiwork. "I'm not sure why this woman was attacked, but I'm going to find out."

"Is she going to be alright," Mrs Hudson asked, setting the kettle on to the stove to warm.

"I believe so, but she has a few days of recovery ahead of her," John told his old landlady as he came to the kitchen to help her with the tea. "She will eventually need to go to the hospital for some scans just to be sure she's alright, but I think, for now, she will live."

"Do we have any idea who she is, "Mrs Hudson said turning to stare at the woman on the sofa. She crossed her arms. "I've never seen her before."

"I believe she was just passing through," John replied as he too stared at the woman he had just help save. "She has a purse, so perhaps I can inspect it and see if there's an identification card of some sort in there." He made a face then and then gave Mrs Hudson and look. "However, I would feel much better if you were the one to do that. I'm not sure I feel comfortable going through people's belongings especially another woman's. Would you mind?"

"Of course I wouldn't mind," Mrs Hudson said and moved forward into the living room once more. She glanced at the woman and then at the women's jacket that John had carefully laid over the back of the chair at the desk. Turning back to John she said, "I don't see a purse here."

John frowned remembering the woman having a purse in the alleyway. "I must have dropped it. Let me go and have a look outside." He turned and rushed back downstairs and outside to the alley to examine the area.

While he was gone, Mrs Hudson took the time to button the woman's shirt and remove her heeled shoes. She then grabbed a spare blanket from the back of the sofa and carefully lifted it over her body so that she would be warmer. The room was much more comfortable now with the fire going, but it was still slightly chilled and not precisely the temperature one would want to wake up to after having been attacked in an alleyway on a cold December night. She also slid a pillow underneath the woman's head for an extra bit of comfort because sometimes the sofa was not the most comfortable.

Just as the tea kettle whistled, John returned through the door with a frown on his face. "I couldn't find her purse, so I'm guessing the attacker must have come back for it after we left it behind. He must really have been hard up for some extra cash or whatever else she had inside of there."

"That's such a shame," Mrs Hudson said sorrowfully as she poured the tea into two cups for her and John. "People in this world these days just don't think about anything but that next fixe, do they?" she questioned.

"That's exactly the problem," John agreed, accepting his tea from her and then going to sit in his chair by the fire. "I think I'm going to stay here tonight just to make sure that she's going to be alright. I don't want her to wake up alone if she wakes up at all before the morning."

"I think that sounds lovely. Sherlock and I have kept your room the same upstairs." Mrs Hudson patted him gently on the shoulder as she sipped her tea. After a few quiet moments, she added, "Why don't you text Mary and let her know, and then in the morning, I can bring up some breakfast for all of you. Perhaps Sherlock will have returned by then."

"I will make sure to do that now," John said, retrieving his mobile from the inside of his jacket pocket. It was then that he realised that he still had his jacket on and so he removed it and set it aside for the night. He quickly typed out and message to his wife explaining the situation and then put his mobile aside as well. He thought about messaging Sherlock, but he had already done that numerous times today without a response.

As if reading his mind, Mrs Hudson patted his arm once more and then took their cups to the kitchen. "Sherlock is fine. You know if he were in a real bind, he would call you in an instant. I'm sure he'll be back soon, and he'll have more questions than answers for the both of us. Now, you gon on upstairs and rest. The poor dear will probably sleep until the morning."

"You're right," John said as he stood from the chair. He placed a hand on Mrs Hudson's shoulder and squeezed gently. "Thank you for your help tonight. I think she's going to be fine, whoever she is."

"You're welcome, and don't worry so much. When she wakes up, she'll explain everything," Mrs Hudson told him and then prepared to leave. "You sleep well, John. I will see you in the morning."

"Goodnight, Mrs Hudson," John muttered as the landlady swept back downstairs to her own flat.

He spent a few more minutes staring at the mystery woman, wondering why she had been in the alley and who exactly she was. The answers to those questions would have to wait to be answered. There was still the question of where Sherlock was and when was he going to arrive back at 221B. Deciding that it was better to try and get a few hours sleep than nothing at all, John turned out the lights and made his way up to his old room. Mrs Hudson had made sure that the woman would be comfortable for the night and he would make sure to check on her every couple of hours in case she woke up in pain.

Besides, he knew how frightening it could be waking up in an unknown place with injuries that you may not even remember how you got them. He had no idea whether or not she suffered a brain injury, but her head seemed to be all right when he examined it earlier. Mostly, it just appeared she'd been beaten, choked, and robbed of her belongings. Like Mrs Hudson said, there would be time for answers in the morning, and now John needed to rest so he could give her proper care when she awoke. With all this in mind, John made his way upstairs and fell into a fitful sleep.

. . . .

Harry didn't realise how late it had become until Ginny had to take the cup of tea out of his hand before it could go crashing to the floor. He shook his head to clear his mind of sleep and gave her a thankful smile. "Sorry," he said. "I didn't realise how exhausted I was until I sat down to relax."

"No worries," Ginny replied with a smile as she carried the cup to the kitchen. Over her shoulder, she said, "You should probably just go to bed, though. We can always watch that movie tomorrow night. It will be Friday, after all." She joined him in the living room again, curling herself up in his lap and tucking a piece of long hair behind the top of his ear.

"What time is it?" Harry inquired, tilting his head to look at the clock on the mantle. "After ten!" he exclaimed, jostling Ginny slightly as he dug in his pocket for his mobile phone. "Hermione was supposed to have texted me when she got home. I didn't realise how late it was."

"Oh, I'm sure she got home hours ago," Ginny said, settling back into her Harry's lap. "Did you invite her to dinner like I asked you to?"

"I did," Harry explained as a frown formed on his brow. He was scrolling frantically through his messages but found nothing new from his dear friend. "She never texted me that she got home tonight," he said, holding his phone up so his wife could read the messages. "The last thing I have from her was a text to meet for lunch this afternoon."

"I'm sure she's fine," Ginny said softly; although, there was a nagging feeling in the back of her mind. She too hated that Hermione lived so far from them and that she was alone and often walked the Streets of London at night to get there. "Why don't you try calling her? We both know she stays up late reading or working on her cases."

"I guess I could do that," he said as he turned his attention to the mobile and tapped the little button that would call his friend. He held the mobile to his ear and waited while it rang. It rang numerous times before clicking over to voicemail. Harry decided he would leave a message. "Hermione? It's Harry. I was just calling to make sure that you made it home alright tonight because I hadn't heard from you. I fell asleep by the fireplace. Let me know when you get this message. You don't have to call since it's so late. I'll see you at the Ministry in the morning. Good night."

When he hung up the mobile, Ginny kissed him on the cheek. "See, she probably is either in the bath relaxing, or maybe she actually went to sleep early for once. I'm sure we'll hear from her before breakfast in the morning. Now, why don't you and I had upstairs to bed?"

"That sounds like a good idea," Harry said, fighting back a yawn. "I am rather tired and could use a good night's sleep."

"Who said anything about sleep?" Ginny said with a saucy wink as she climbed out of her husband's lap and took his hand in hers.

Harry chuckled and followed behind his wife as she led him toward the stairs. "I like the way your mind thinks, witch," he said, playfully swatting at her bottom. He was just about to swoop her into his arms and carry her up the stairs when his mobile rang in his pocket. He paused and extracted it, hoping to see Hermione's name across the screen. His heart gave a lurch when he saw that it was the Minister's number. Immediately, he swiped to answer the call and held the mobile to his ear.

"Kingsley?" he inquired, meeting Ginny's eyes with a serious stare. "What can I help you with this evening?" It was odd for Kingsley to message or call at all, let alone so late at night.

"Potter," Kingsley said with a seriousness that stopped Harry right in his tracks. "I'm going to need you to come into the Ministry tonight. There have been some attacks, and many of our staff have gone missing."

"Attacks?" Harry questioned, earning him a frantic stare from his wife. "Who's gone missing?"

"We can discuss things further when you've arrived. Please tell Ginny that I'm sorry to take you away from your family so late at night, but I fear that we have a situation on hand," the Minister explained solemnly.

"Please, sir, "Harry began, feeling his heart pound loudly in his chest with fear. "Have you been able to get ahold of Hermione? Is she there at the Ministry with you?"

There was silence on the phone for a moment, and Harry knew his worst fears were about to be confirmed. As if knowing this as well, Ginny reached out and grabbed hold of his hand, squeezing tightly in support for her husband. "I'm sorry," Kingsley said, his voice straining slightly. "We have not been able to get in touch with her. We fear that she has been one of our staff who has been captured. Please, hurry, and we will see you here soon to discuss this further."

The line went dead, and Harry slowly lowered his arm to stare at his wife, his own fears reflected in her eyes. "Hermione is missing," Harry told her. "There have been attacks, and countless Ministry workers are supposedly missing as well. I have to go in, and I'm not sure what is going on."

"Oh Merlin," Ginny whispered in horror. "Is there anything I can do?" she asked as Harry rushed past her to the front hallway.

He gathered his wand and keys and then turned to face Ginny. "I don't know, honestly. I knew something was wrong as soon as I realised Hermione hadn't checked in tonight. This is big, Gin."

"What could it be?" Ginny asked, reaching out and placing her hands on Harry's waist. She tugged him slightly closer knowing that soon she would have to say goodbye, not knowing whether or not he would make it home safe again.

"I've no idea," Harry's replied honestly. He wrapped his arms around his wife and held her close, breathing in the comforting scent that he had come to know to mean home. "We haven't had an issue like this one since the war. I'm not quite sure what to expect when I go into the Ministry."

"I'm sure it'll be fine. You and the rest of the team will figure it out and find Hermione before it's too late," Ginny mumbled into Harry's chest. Leaning back slightly so she could stare up into his emerald eyes, she added, "Please be safe and return to me and the kids in one piece, okay?"

"I think I'm more worried about finding Hermione than anything right now," he admitted, releasing his hold on his wife and stepping back so he could prepare to leave. "She's all alone out there, wherever she may be."

"Hermione can take care of herself, which is why you and I have let her live her life the way she wants instead of asking her to come back and live closer to the Wizarding world." Ginny heavily sighed and ran a hand through her red hair. "You know her; she always does what she wants to even if it means she's putting herself in danger."

"I think that's what worries me the most about her," Harry said, shrugging into his jacket that he had just grabbed from the back of the door stand. "I will send word as soon as I can when I know more about what is happening in our world." Harry placed a chaste kiss to her forehead and then smoothed his thumb over the spot to tip her head back so we could stare into her eyes. "Lock the door and put a protection spell around the house just to be safe."

"I will," she promised, doing her best to fight back her fears. "I'm also going to send word to the rest of the family so that they know at least a little bit of what's going on. We don't need anyone else going missing or worse."

"That's probably a good idea. Kiss the kids for me, and I will see you as soon as I can," Harry told his wife, this time dropping a kiss to her lips and then going to open the door. "I love you," he said, stepping out into the darkness, into the unknown.

"I love you too," Ginny said, waving slightly and then wrapping her hands around her midsection to hold in her tears. Harry gave her a wave and then the door was shut, and she was alone with their three children and the immense weight of knowing that they had absolutely no idea what was going to happen next.

After standing there for a moment, Ginny decided that she needed to soldier that on. She took a deep breath and then grabbed for her wand. She would make sure the house was protected and then she would contact her family and make sure they did the same. It was going to be a long night of waiting for answers, and she was sure she would get no sleep, but she could be confident that her loved ones were as safe as they could be.

. . . .