a/n: Beta credits to callieskye. Trust me when I say that this fic wouldn't be what it is if not for her.
Thanks to each one of you reading and reviewing this story. Thank you for your patience as we work on this monster of a fic, a bit at a time.
Chapter 16: The World Stops Spinning
"There have been a few cases, yes, but unfortunately with my age addled brain, I can hardly recall any specific details," said the wizened old man, looking at Hermione through his thick, hazy glasses
Hermione was barely able to hide her frustrated groan. The short break the previous week had left her with an unusually large backlog of work- which she was extremely grateful for- but sifting through a room full of old and dusty court records was too much even for her. She had pinned all her hopes on the centenarian attorney, Samuel Wilson, hoping that with his extensively long career, he'd be able to guide her towards a precedent from the past that would help her crack this case.
"Annett, we might as well get to those scrolls already," she sighed, glancing at her assistant who shared her look of exasperation.
Hermione wasn't having the best of mornings, she had been late again and was now struggling to find something relevant to save the youngest client in Wizarding history, five-year-old, Daniel Matthews.
She managed a weak smile at the elderly gentleman and proceeded to get up from the chair she was occupying. On an average day, she'd have loved nothing better than to run through a library's worth of case scrolls. However, her packed work and personal schedule meant she hardly had the liberty to sit and read at leisure.
"Erm, thank you for your valuable time, Sir," she said politely despite her frustration. " I appreciate you seeing us at such short notice."
She picked up her handbag and ministry robes while Annett rolled up her blank scroll to stuff it inside her bag.
"Oh, not a problem at all, Miss Granger!" replied the old man, "I am sorry I could not be of more help."
They were almost at the door when all of a sudden he called them again and as she turned, Hermione found his aged eyes gleaming with hope.
"You should check with Pearl Withycombe!" he said excitedly. "She was my assistant. Excellent memory that one!" he added, exhilarated.
Beside her, Hermione heard Annett release an audible sigh of relief. After a brief moment of nervous panic during which the old wizard had made an insane amount of papers fly around them while trying to locate his assistant's address, leaving Hermione to pray silently for him to find it, Annett had managed to recover an old envelope bearing the address and the two women apparated away, after thanking him profusely.
"Please meet with Pearl Withycombe and see if she can provide anything more helpful," she instructed once they had entered the Ministry and were back in her office. "I am just hoping she remembers more than old Wilson did." She willed away the uncomfortable knot in her abdomen. They were cutting it too close- the case date was only a week away. If this lead ended up as a false trail too, she wouldn't have enough time or resources to save the boy. "If she can give us any lead, even a time-range to look within, it'll save us precious time," she instructed, hoping that she was masking the panic in her voice. "It's times like these when I wish we used computers," she muttered to herself.
"We used what?" asked an amused Annett, pausing in the act of scribbling away on a scroll to look at her, and Hermione shook her head wearily, "Muggle invention. Just ignore it. You'd better get going if you're going to catch Pearl."
"You're right," replied the younger witch as she rolled up the scroll and pulled down Furry- their tiny and super fast owl. The white and brown bird fluttered excitedly as Annett tied the sealed scroll on her, reminding Hermione inexplicably of Pig and how his mad excitement had always annoyed Ron back in the day. She had fallen in love with the tiny bundle of feathers at first sight, and for the past few years, tried to convince herself that it had nothing to do with Ron or the hope of owning something that might have belonged to him; it went against everything she had forced herself to be. The facade worked some days on most others, didn't. This morning, it didn't. His memory hit her with the force of a bludger, almost tripping her off the edge and bringing back the strong urge to hide from all her responsibilities and curl up in a ball, stay at home. It was a struggle to push that thought away.
She forced her attention back to the pile of documents and the huge volume of Legal Exceptions in Magical History in the Twentieth Century in front of her until Annett sent the bird away.
"Annett, I think-" she began, grabbing a scroll and her quill, glancing up at the young witch only to notice Annett flush scarlet, looking at something in the Daily Prophet's morning edition that sat on her desk. "Something interesting?" she smirked, quirking her brows. The young girl looked away, flustered.
"Umm...no, nothing really," Annett replied, though still pink in the cheeks as she busied herself with her diary. However, soon her excitement got the better of her. "Have you, y'know, read The Prophet today?" she asked, barely holding back a shy smile, putting her diary aside.
"Not yet. Why? Anything important?" Hermione asked.
Surprisingly, Annett looked even more flustered."No, I guess, nothing important for us directly," she replied, looked between the Prophet and Hermione and then spoke quietly, "I reckon, you must have heard the news already anyway. Auror Ron Weasley?" she paused, eyes gleaming, "He has apparently rejoined the force... as of today."
The quill in her hand paused, not even as a conscious thought, as Hermione's memories hauled her back to the previous evening. She looked down at her book resolutely.
"The Daily Prophet seems to have nothing better to cover now than people joining back work after their holidays?" she asked, hating the green-eyed monster that reared its head at Annett's behaviour. She looked up, trying to think of a neutral response that wouldn't give away her real feelings, only to find Annett still gazing longingly at the paper that flashed a couple of Ron's recent pictures in muggle casuals. In the one she could see from the corner of her eye, he was standing next to Kingsley and Arnold Ainsworth, the honorary Head of Aurors. For the briefest minute, Hermione found herself longing to look into those blue eyes, craving to know what they held. But Ron seemed to have kept those Aviators.
"I mean, he has been away for so many years!" continued Annett, bustling with ill-disguised admiration, unaware of Hermione's internal conflict. "I've been following his story since his return! I mean, the Auror department is yet to release a press statement about his mission but everyone thinks it must have been intense. After all, he is in line for another Merlin Award for Exhelplarary service to Wizardkind!" she went on, pausing for a brief minute before she continued in a more subdued but passionate tone. "And… after Harry Potter's wedding, he is now the most eligible bachelor in Wizarding England, isn't he," she added, blushing to the roots of her hair this time.
Hermione usually shared a good relationship with her assistant. Annett reminded her a little of Ginny in ways she couldn't really pinpoint. But suddenly she couldn't help feeling less than fond of the young girl.
"Thank you for that wonderful summary, Annett," she replied in a clipped voice. "I don't think I need to read the newspaper now that you have already summed up the breaking news of the day for me," she added, words barely masking her annoyance- at Ron, at the Prophet, at Annett, and most importantly, herself. "Now, will you please run along and finish what I asked you to do?"
Looking put out and a tiny bit confused, Annett picked up her diary and a few of the scrolls and nodded. "Yes, sorry."
Hermione watched her retreating form and it was only after the door to her cabin was closed again that she pulled the newspaper to herself. 'The Aurors Welcome Back The Hero', the title screamed. She unfurled the paper against her better judgement. The second picture showed Ron entering Gringotts Bank. It too appeared to be a recent photograph. Forcing down the array of mixed emotions, she shoved the paper to the far end of the parchment-littered desk and went back to the book in front of her.
Hermione was still bent low over the huge volume, searching unsuccessfully for legal loopholes when a gentle knock on the door broke the silence of the room.
"Hermione?"
"Arthur!" she exclaimed and got up from her seat to welcome him in.
"Am I disturbing you?" asked the old man, glancing at her desk which was covered with parchments, scrolls and books.
"No, not at all! Just a normal day," she laughed. "Please come in!" she beamed, before noticing that the usually sparkling eyes behind those horn-rimmed glasses looked rather agonized today.
"Is everything alright?" she asked, offering him a seat and proceeding to occupy the chair adjacent to his rather than her seat behind the desk.
She noticed Arthur's eyes take in the upturned news article. He frowned slightly and her heart gave a panicked lurch. Did Ron…
Arthur let out a deep sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose before he commenced speaking. "Ron came down last night to confess about you- your relationship."
Despite everything, Hermione found herself fighting her tears. It was the final curtain call. Everything was over between Ron and her now, even the facade they shared.
"I'm- I'm sorry…" she began haltingly, guilt-ridden. Arthur and Molly were her second set of parents. She had hidden the truth from them for years and led them to believe in a lie. Why had she done it? She had no need or reason to agree to Ron when he'd suggested it. Was it just to keep his parents happy? Or was there more… a longing she wasn't ready to admit at the time?
Arthur pulled her hands in his warm ones, patting the back of them fondly as he did with his own daughter. "No dear, we are sorry, Molly and I," he replied sadly. "Molly, she-she's very upset," he sighed. "We had no clue," he added bitterly. "She wanted me to ask if you'd mind joining us for dinner tonight? We'll understand if you don't want to though," he finished sadly.
"Oh Arthur, please don't say that!" she cried, not even bothering to hide the tears that tricked out. "I'm- I'm really sorry, I should've told you earlier. I love you both so much!"
"And we love you. So... you'll come then?" he asked, patting her cheek.
"Of course! I would love to join you both for dinner," she replied earnestly.
Arthur glanced back at the Prophet and Ron's image, turned around and sighed. "We'll wait for you," he said as he picked himself up and gave Hermione a fatherly hug before he left.
...
She was late for dinner by almost an hour.
Tired to her bones, starving and eagerly looking forward to a steaming bowl of Molly's French onion soup, it was almost seven in the evening when Hermione found herself back on the familiar grounds just outside of the Weasley home. It was unnaturally quiet and lonely, words she couldn't fathom to associate with the Burrow. Walking briskly towards the door that opened into the kitchen, she found herself looking up at the small window just below the attic. The closed window panes shot an ache through her heart and she hastened her steps.
She knew he wasn't around, Arthur's expression in the morning had said as much. But the Burrow felt incomplete without him. The constant battle in her heart was raging on in full force. It was clear as day that she still had feelings for Ron, neither time nor his betrayal had been able to erase them. But her pride made sure she fought the demands of her heart. She was never going to go back to him, even if that meant being more miserable than she had ever been. Ron was home now and the longing to see him inconspicuously was overwhelming.
"Can't!" she fumed to herself, sucking in a breath, fighting the barrage of memories that had gained fodder in the last few days. She needed to get away, go back to her own flat and immerse herself in work, she told herself.
Hermione ran the last few steps and knocked on the battered door; it opened almost immediately as if Molly had been waiting at the other end all this time. She was enveloped in a hug before she had even crossed the threshold.
"I was worried you wouldn't come," Molly confessed after she pulled away, patting Hermione's cheek lovingly.
"This is my home too," Hermione replied, choking back a sob, trying her best to smile.
Molly nodded, closed her eyes and let out a soft sob, "Always, my dear." Hermione was pulled in and she took her seat at the table which was already laden with an amazing spread.
"I'm starving!" she chuckled and waved as Arthur joined them. Her statement was met with Molly serving her enormous portions. Knowing well that the Weasley matriarch showered her affection through food, Hermione let the elderly witch smother her. Anything to make her feel better, she thought.
"We were expecting you to Floo in," stated Arthur.
Hermione dropped her spoon down carefully. "Came directly from the hospital," she provided with a weak smile. Molly's warm hand found hers, patting them lovingly.
"How's Jane doing?" inquired Arthur.
"Not very good," Hermione replied with difficulty. "The medication she was prescribed didn't suit her well. They are trying something else now; will take a few days to confirm if they are helping."
"She's a strong woman, she'll be fine,"
"Sure hope so."
Molly sighed. "It feels so strange, she seemed to be having so much fun at the wedding, kept gushing about how pretty you will look on-" She paused abruptly, and glanced at Arthur beseechingly.
They had not addressed the elephant in the room and Hermione hoped against hope that it would stay that way.
"You seemed very busy this morning."
Hermione was immensely glad of Arthur's interruption and relaxed. Work, yes, she could talk about work.
"Yes, my recent case is proving to be quite a headache really," she explained and brought them up to all that had transpired since the day before.
"They can't prosecute a five-year-old!" gasped Molly, turning towards her husband, "Can they, Arthur?"
"Hard to say, dear," he sighed. "Have you found something yet?" he asked Hermione.
"Yes! Thank goodness for Pearl Withycombe! She was able to provide us with case and record numbers where the accused was under eleven-years-old," she chuckled. "Some memory that woman has! I don't know what we'd do without her help."
"Surely there can't be many?" gasped Molly, clutching her heart.
"Around fifty," Hermione replied, exasperatedly.
"What's the case against this child?" Arthur asked. It seemed everyone had quietly decided to avoid the elephant in the room; Hermione couldn't be gladder.
"He had a squabble with the kid next door and blew his left arm off."
"Oh my goodness!" Molly gasped again, horrified.
"Nasty business, yes," she agreed.
"I sure hope the other child's fine?!"
"His arm was reattached but he's still at St. Mungos. Undergoing treatment for shock really. "
"Thank goodness!" Molly exhaled, "Surely they can't persecute the kid?! It's accidental magic!" She turned towards her husband hoping to hear something reassuring.
"Not necessarily, dear. Depends on the effect of the magic," he replied sadly.
"The mother of the victim doesn't want the child to get off 'scot-free'," provided Hermione. "She's adamant that the parents should've been more careful. And as per the recent laws, we can't deny anyone justice if they come knocking for it."
"But how could the parents be more careful?!"
"Exactly my point," Hermione sighed.
Despite the fantastic food, she was starting to get a headache. The thought of the thirty or so files that she still had to check was not making her life any easier. Merlin knew if she'd even be able to find anything significant. It felt like she'd been running for days now. She'd had a late morning yet again, and had spent a considerable amount of time working on this case. It had taken her three hours to go through twenty or so records from the pile of fifty-five Annett had pulled out for her to study before she left for the hospital after making a quick stop home to dump the remaining. She'd barely had five minutes to change before she Apparated back to the broken-down theatre, the closest secluded spot near the hospital. That particular meeting too was weighing heavy on her heart. Her mother looked sickly; the smile clearly forced and barely concealing the pain she was in. Hermione sorely wished she could do more than just watch the Muggle doctors struggle, wished she could spell her mum better. But worse perhaps was hearing her mum mention how Ron had visited her just as he had promised. She told Hermione how he wished they could heal her with magic...
"When are Harry and Ginny getting back?" she asked.
"By next Monday," Arthur replied and looked around the long empty dining table. "The kids moved out ages ago, and yet the house still feels lonely without all of you."
Hermione managed a weak smile before thickly swallowing the lump in her throat and looking down resolutely at her plate. The Burrow did feel lonely. Try as she might, she couldn't stop looking at the stairs every now and then, half expecting Ron to appear, his hair sleep-tussled, nightshirt hanging out partly, fair ankles visible beneath much shorter pyjamas.
Time should have dimmed the memories, but they only seemed sharper now, coloured not just by pain but also longing.
They wrapped up dinner, discussing mundane things. Hermione helped Molly clear the table, and after Arthur retired to the living room Molly prepared them two cups of steaming hot chocolate. Hermione knew she needed to leave; the sooner she got home, the earlier she could resume work. And yet, her heart wanted nothing more than to stay a little longer, hold onto the few fragments left from her past.
"The house is so quiet without everyone," Hermione exclaimed, barely realising that she'd spoken aloud.
"I know," Molly agreed, smiling. Her eyes, however, sparkled with unshed tears. "Even after the boys moved out it wasn't this lonely. Whenever she wasn't travelling, Ginny made sure to stay for a few days, and then kept popping in and out to collect belongings she'd forget to pack. Even now, I keep imagining that she'll run down the steps any minute, inquiring about a misplaced jumper," Molly chuckled. "It's bittersweet to see your little girl wed."
"Mom said the exact same thing," said Hermione wistfully.
Molly shook her head sympathetically and patted Hermione's hand. "I am so sorry, love. It's so strange when I think about it," she mused sadly, "-one minute Jane was sitting there, laughing and gushing about how pretty you'll look as a bride, and just the next…" she stopped suddenly, catching Hermione's eyes. It wasn't difficult to see all the regret the aged eyes held. Hermione could see Molly struggle to hold back before the words came tumbling out. "I still can't believe Ron would-" she paused, sighed and resumed, "- do what he did. Seems impossible. I can't forget how he would look at you, how happy you both were and …" She stopped and sniffed into a little handkerchief she pulled from her pocket.
Hermione wanted to tell Molly that it was okay- that she was okay, and it had been years, that she had moved on- but it would be a lie, and she couldn't bring herself to lie to Molly, not again. Unable to find words, she left her chair to give Molly a hug; the gesture reminded her of the nights they would spend talking, crying after Ron's disappearance.
Molly pulled her into the warm motherly embrace and Hermione choked back a sob. Why did life leave her with so many regrets? She so badly wanted to be a part of the family…
"I'm so sorry, dear!" choked out Molly, "I'm sorry for how he hurt you…"
"Please...Molly," she gasped, "Please don't apologise! In fact- in fact, I should be the one apologising… for keeping all of you in the dark for so many years…I wanted to- really but-" The rest of the words stuck in a lump at her throat- What was she going to say?! That she had held on to some bit of hope? She had expected Ron and her to get back together?
"I understand," Molly sniffed, breaking her musings and patted her back lovingly. The guilt intensified inside Hermione. She was still lying to Molly- the same woman who had so often substituted for her own mom, with equal love and care.
They stayed holding each other for a long time until Hermione was sure Molly was feeling better. She heated both their hot chocolates and sat chatting about insignificant topics just to ease the tension. But it was almost past nine and Hermione had to get back home.
"I always wanted to see you both together-" confessed Molly with a soft sad smile as Hermione stood next to the fireplace, ready to leave. She swallowed thickly and looked away as Molly patted her hand. There was too much understanding in that quiet gesture. "-but with or without Ron, this house will always welcome you as one of our own," Molly finished. Hermione could only hug her wordlessly, knowing that even without the words, the witch understood. And then, she entered into the fireplace and Flooed to her apartment.
...
Later that night, once she had showered and changed, she dropped the remaining case files on her bed and settled down with her back resting against the cushions. It was going to be a long night, she could at least try to get a little more comfortable, she reckoned. It was only after she had flipped through four or five case histories, dropping them on the floor unceremoniously one after the other, frustrated for each was as useless as the next, she realised she had neither spoken to, nor seen or even as much as thought of Draco all day, apart from the fleeting moments in the morning. If anything, it wasn't a very pleasant thought either.
Work had been beyond hectic, she reasoned to herself, trying to push away the ugly pinch of guilt. Of late, guilt seemed to be the only emotion he evoked in her, her heart reminded, and she dropped her quill in the inkwell, groaning aloud and rubbed her eyes with the pad of her palms. The blood-vessels at her temples were throbbing again. She had no clue how to sort out the mess of her life. The easiest option was to ignore it and pretend all was well; not that it worked when she was alone. What could she do, she mused ruefully, life had dealt her a rubbish hand. She chuckled bitterly to herself, Professor Trelawney would've had a field day and mentioned how her tea leaves had told her years ago that Hermione would be doomed by fate with respect to love.
As her thoughts drifted, seeking temporary respite from work perhaps, she realised that Draco's absence was most likely driven by choice and not chance. He'd have made it a point to drop by her office or home if he wanted. But after the happenings of the previous night, he must have wanted distance. She couldn't blame him, in fact, she was glad of the solitude. Hermione wasn't sure where she was going herself, and dragging Draco into this mess was nothing but selfish on her part. She knew she would have to come clean one of these days, she just didn't know when or how.
She arched her back, rubbing her aching shoulders and looked longingly at the duvet at the edge of the bed. She could barely remember the last time she had slept peacefully. As if on cue, an image flashed in front of her eyes. The colour of her bedroom walls had been different back then, and so were the bedspread and cushion covers. She could almost smell his aftershave, feel the peace that trickled into her skin at his touch, could see those blue eyes shining with mirth and love, touch the texture of his pale, freckled skin beneath her fingertips. The image vanished abruptly but the damage was done. Breathing erratically she pushed herself off the bed and hastened towards the kitchen. Her hands shook as she placed the kettle on to boil, added an extra scoopful of coffee powder in her mug. While she waited for the water to come to a boil, she concentrated on her breathing, almost forcing her brain to stop thinking, forcefully shaving the jagged, broken pieces of memory that had spilled out, back into the deepest corners of her heart.
It took her roughly an hour and a couple more cups of coffee to get her thoughts in some order. By 1 AM, she had managed to cover around twenty or so cases. The bad news was that she was yet to find any case where the accidents had been as severe as Daniel's, but at least, none of the underaged kids had ever been convicted. If push came to shove, she'd have to base her entire argument around that one precedent. Hermione fervently hoped she'd find more.
She picked up another dusty scroll with an exhausted sigh, rubbing the back of her neck to ease the ache. Deciding to give her strained eyes some much-needed rest, she pushed herself back on the cushions. A sigh escaped her lips and the muscles seemed to blend in as she closed her eyes. The late-night caffeine did help to keep sleep at bay, but it also increased her anxiousness. Her thoughts kept returning to a pair of blue eyes she had been trying to forget for years now. Exhaustion, both physical and mental tore down her concentration and determination. Five minutes, she promised herself, flexing her stiff fingers. Her thoughts kept returning to her last meeting with him. Ron had always had expressive eyes. He wore his mask well now, she reckoned, or perhaps the distance had hardened him. It was hard to find the chinks in his armour. But she had managed to break through, hadn't she? For a brief few moments there at the hospital cafeteria, she had seen a glimpse of her old Ron. A vindictive part of her cheered but another, smaller one wanted to stop him, call him back. She snapped open her eyes for his image seemed to be burnt behind her eyelids. When would her heart realise that it was a futile battle, she wondered frustrated, hastily wiping away the moisture from her eyes. The future she had fought for, dreamt of was lost forever. She didn't know why he reacted the way he did, but it did not necessarily mean that he still- she stopped that thought before it spiralled. No! She told herself firmly. He didn't care! If he had he wouldn't have broken the promise he made after Fred's burial. Something had changed during the months in his training perhaps? Maybe she had been so blinded by her luck, by his presence that she hadn't noticed him moving away?
Gulping thickly, she glanced at the watch. 1:30. Work, she reminded herself. Only work could keep her sane.
The one scroll she had unfurled had rolled away to the far end of the bed, so she picked one randomly from the remaining stack, deciding that it would have to be the last one for the night. If she didn't at least try for a nap, she'd be late again in the morning. She unfurled it; it appeared a little less old than the previous ones.
Hermione began reading from the top, more out of habit than necessity. The first few lines were usually case-numbers and details of the accused; she could note them down only if the case held something worthwhile.
However, she had barely read a few lines when her world came crashing down. She dropped the parchment as if it had burnt her and stared in horror as pain and disbelief hit her with the force of a raging ram.
"Can't!" she choked and picked it up, rubbing her eyes furiously, hoping against hope that she'd read it wrong. But the letters were unmoving as she held the only written proof of her horrific crime….
Somewhere far far away, Destiny laughed gleefully as the curly-haired witch sobbed hysterically over a piece of parchment.
Law Enforcement Records. Property of Ministry of Magic, London.
Case No J/1983/M/A/134
Name of accused: Hermione Jean Granger
Age: 3 yrs 5 months 23 days
Blood Status: Muggleborn
Parents: Thomas and Jane Granger (Muggles)
Date of Incident: 14th March 1983
Hearing Date: 3rd April 1983
Case Status: CLOSED
Case Summary:
Use of underaged magic to open a complex muggle car-seat lock.
Summary of Accident Caused (See scroll 3 for details):
Accident of the car travelling in. Grave injury to the pregnant mother. Death of an unborn sibling (presumably muggle). No injury to self (underaged shield charm).
Action Taken: NONE.
Underaged magic NOT the direct cause of accident or death.
On this day, the 3rd of April 1983, the Wizagamont hereby agrees that the child in question, Miss Hermione Granger, was not directly responsible for the accident. Hence, no action on the part of the Ministry is ordered. In the absence of witnesses, Oblivators were not required to take any action.
The Wizagamont also agrees that the accident was caused due to slip of concentration of the muggle mother on finding the child out of the seat. No Magical intervention was deemed necessary.
…...
A/N: Thanks for reading!
