Chapter 8

Ron never dreamed he could be so excited for a 4:30am run. Even now, as he was sleeping better, he was still waking up before his alarm.

He pulled on his running shorts, shirt and trainers and made his way to the Auror Gymnasium.

When he arrived he was surprised to find that Hermione was not at her usual spot up on the second floor track, instead she was in the boxing sector laying into a punching bag.

"You want to spread your legs out a little wider, more stability." Ron offered walking towards her.

What he expected when she turned around, was not what he received. Instead of a smile with a glint in her eye as she ran up and jumped into his arms, he was welcomed by a surprised Hermione with bloodshot eyes looking at him wildly and defensively.

"Hey, are you alright?" Ron asked, about to place a hand on her shoulder.

"Fine." She squeaked, brushing him off and looking around. He followed her gaze, but was confused as there was never anyone in the gym.

"Okay…" Ron answered.

"I don't want to run today." Hermione blurted out. "Could you teach me some defensive moves instead?"

"Yeah, sure." Ron answered suspiciously. "You sure everything is okay?"

"Yes." She said emphatically. "Stop asking."

Ron tried to shrug off the sinking suspicion that something was very wrong, but he didn't want to get into a row with Hermione so soon after they had reconnected. All he really wanted to do was get to a point where they could snog a bit before new recruits showed up for their six am training session.

"First, let's work on posture. When you want to throw a punch, you need to be firmly rooted, like this." Ron helped move Hermione's hips and legs. "You see, you're much less likely to be thrown off balance."

Hermione nodded for him to continue. Ron went on to go through jabs, upper cuts, and a few hooks. Hermione was in her studious mode where every fiber of her being was focused on absorbing the information and doing it perfectly. Her cold and focused nature reminded him of when she was at school around NEWT times - she had gotten far too little sleep, spent too much time studying, and was scared to death she might not be on time to the exam. After this weekend, he thought she would be in more of a light and giddy mood, like he was.

"Can we practice together? You know, if you were my attacker?" Hermione asked, trying not to look directly in Ron's eye.

"Sure." Ron said, getting into position in front of her. "Ready?"

Hermione nodded. Ron went after her slowly, and without much effort pinned her in a hold. She squirmed to get out and Ron could tell right off the bat where she struggled.

"Next time, you'll want to shift your arm here so that it is free to move when I grab you." He said pointing to her left arm. "And don't forget that everyone has key sensitive areas that make them easy to manipulate." Ron pointed to his eyes, nose, and base of his throat.

Hermione nodded and motioned for him to try again. They did this for the next thirty minutes and Hermione had improved. She was getting more confident and doing a better job positioning herself to escape an attacker.

Getting in position once more, Ron moved forward, and without warning, Hermione switched back to the opposite side and flipped him onto the mat. Ron looked up in surprise delight.

"Hermione" he coughed, "nice job." As she reached to give him a hand up, he grabbed it deviously and pulled her down on top of him. She let out a yelp of surprise and landed on his chest.

"That's better." He whispered, pushing a stray curl back around her ear.

All morning had been emotionless and focused only on Hermione's random self-defense session, but now, Ron felt it again, their connection. He could feel her loving eyes roam his features, but there was something else there too. Something concerning, something deep that he had only seen a few other times with Hermione.

Ron leaned forward, guiding her in gently. They were inches apart and Ron couldn't wait to feel her lips on his again.

"We can't do this." Hermione whispered. They both stopped short, eyes still shut, feeling each other's breath. Ron tried to run all of the words through his mind, sure he had misheard her.

"What?" He asked, genuinely confused.

Ron heard a pained noise in the back of Hermione's throat as she pulled back into a sitting position. He sat up too, and looked at her dead in the eyes.

He could see a kaleidoscope of emotions pass across Hermione's face.

"We can't do this, Ron. I...I don't want you to get hurt." Hermione said louder, though there was a slight waver at the end.

"Are you bloody kidding me?" Ron heard himself say.

"I'm so sorry, Ron." He could see the tears welling up in her eyes, but he didn't care, he was livid.

"So she was right then?" Ron spat at Hermione, pulling himself up in a standing position.

"Who was right?" Hermione asked, climbing to her feet. He could tell she wanted to go to him, but he was done.

"Avery, she said you would do this. She said you were using me. Was she right?" He half asked, half pleaded.

"What? Of course not!" Hermione said, almost insulted.

"Then why do you keep doing this to me? One second you love me, the other you hate me." His voice started to rise. What Ron really wanted was a row. It always led to the truth and always led to them snogging in the end.

For the first time he could recall, she did not fight him. Hermione didn't move, just somehow looked smaller and smaller.

"That's not true." She whispered.

"Bullshit. You don't have anything to say to me? Are you kidding me?" Ron waited for a response, but Hermione seemed to be out of words.

Ron stormed toward the door. "That's it, Hermione. I'm not playing this game with you anymore. We're obviously not right for each other." He paused before the last words came out. "We're done. For good."

He waited just a moment longer, expecting Hermione to chase after him and apologize profusely. To throw her arms around him and say she had just been possessed by a poltergeist, but she didn't. She simply stood there like a child, watching him.

Without another word, Ron shoved the door open and left.


Over the next couple of weeks, Hermione closed herself off from everyone around her. She followed her normal routine, but without any pit stops or socialization. Even Firenze could see the normal frazzled and energetic Hermione was now quiet, tired, and stone faced.

She completed her departmental training and certification exams as scheduled, and dealt with the usual pushback, but she stuck to her training and exam script and avoided any confrontation.

During the Auror training, Harry would flit looks between her and Ron, who sat in the very back of the room. Harry hadn't reached out to her, but she was sure Ron had mentioned something to him.

After her day was done, she apparated home...well, to her temporary home. After no longer feeling safe in her apartment, she did the only thing she knew...she pulled out her extendable purse, packed it up with a dilapidated magical tent she bought in Diagon Alley and included as many things as he could pack away. Tonight she set up in the Forest of Dean. She felt so at home there, and repeated her shielding & protection charms until she felt reasonably sure she could head inside for some dinner.

Her evenings of late were spent mapping out every potential person she knew who had shown interest, both positive and negative in her in the past couple years. She wrote endless notes on and sorted them in neat stacks, trying to connect dots or make conclusions. On more than one occasion she was up well past midnight, more confused than when she had started.

Her thoughts tried to wander to Ron every once in a while. She considered telling him on multiple occasions, but until she was able to gauge the danger she and those she cared about were actually in, she wasn't risking it. She would just have to figure it out herself, and stop this guy in his tracks.


The following week went on just as the previous. Hermione remained steadfast and isolated, and she avoided any opportunity to run into Harry or Ron.

Even though she was miserable, she couldn't help feel slightly upbeat at the fact that she had finished her very last training session with the Department for Wizarding Law. They had a tendency to bicker incessantly about every change.

"Ms. Granger." A voice called after her as she walked towards the elevator. Hermione pretended as if she hadn't heard him and continued on.

"Wait, Hermione." He hollered again, this time his voice was right behind her. Before she had a chance to turn he grabbed her arm and pulled her around to face him.

Hermione scowled at him.

"It's time, Hermione." He said, still holding her arm.

"Time for what?" She growled.

"Time for me to take you out to dinner." He said with a snake-like smile.

"Mr. Savoy, in case your memory has faded, I said-"

Before she had a chance to finish, he countered, "And I said I always get my way. I don't take no for an answer."

He looked at her and she suddenly felt her body tense. Could it be Savoy? Could he be the one tormenting her?

Hermione doubted it, but after days of following conspiracy after conspiracy in her tent, she was wearing down. If he was her stalker and she said no, what would he do? If he wasn't, maybe she could use Mr. Savoy to lure the stalker out of hiding. It would be so much easier to be able to fight a flesh and blood person rather than a ghost that haunted her.

"Alright, Marcel." She barely managed to get out.

He looked at her for a moment in surprise. "I thought that would be harder." He said, pleased with himself.

Hermione held back an eye roll.

"Tonight?" Hermione offered. "You said La Maison Blanche the other day. Should we meet there?" She asked as if scheduling another work meeting.

"Y-yes." He said smiling. "Say, seven-thirty?"

"Fine." Hermione said as he rolled his hand down her arm and grabbed her fingers and flipped them over. He placed a kiss on top of her hand before he started backing away.

"Until tonight." He called to her as he headed back toward his department.

"Right." Hermione said shifting around and slumping towards the elevator.


Hermione did her best to freshen up, but in a tent, there is only so much you can do. She pulled on her nicest summer dress and refreshed her extendable bag. In an effort to defend herself or catch her stalker she had outfitted her bag with a few magical alarms and defensive items, some that came directly from her surreptitious visit to Weasley Wizard Wheezes a week ago.

Hermione knew meeting with Marcel Savoy at La Maison Blanche made a statement. It was a very public place and she was sure the tabloids would either be lurking nearby or have spy's among the staff to notify them if anyone of note had arrived.

The entrance was lavished with marble columns and chandeliers. Hermione had apparated around the corner and walked up the stairs into the entrance lobby. Her small heels clicked on the stone floor as she made her way up to the host. The host was busy waving his wand around marking changes to table seating arrangements, but stopped as soon as she made her way up to him.

"Welcome to La Maison Blanche." He said properly.

"Thanks, I'm here to see Marcel Savoy." She said, glancing around the dining room.

"Ahh yes, that is you, Ms. Granger." He said looking at her with newly eager eyes. "Mr. Savoy is expecting you. Right this way, please."

Hermione eyed her way around the room looking at every person along the bar, and those amicably talking at nearby tables. She attempted to memorize their features and revisit her own research when she returned to her tent.

She rounded the table behind the host, and Marcel stood up to greet her.

"Hermione." He said confidently. "Please…" He motioned to the chair as the host pulled it out for her. She nodded and sat down noting that Marcel had already invested in a bottle of wine.

"Hello Marcel." She pulled the cloth napkin from her plate and placed it on her lap.

"Hope you don't mind, but I've already started." He pointed to the wine.

"Please" Hermione gushed in hidden sarcasm. "Enjoy yourself."

They got settled and Hermione attempted small talk with her 'would-be' stalker as she perused the menu. After another few minutes they placed their orders. Hermione chose grilled chicken and vegetables. She figured plain & simple would get her in and out as quickly as possible. Marcel Savoy on the other hand went for lavish and intricate. She was sure this would take an extra fifteen minute to cook. In the meantime, she decided this would be the perfect time to investigate.

"So, Marcel," Hermione leaned forward, "I'm surprised you had the courage to ask me out again, seeing as I was so...inhospitable...the first time you asked."

Marcel sat up and leaned forward, "You are worth it Hermione. I mean, look at you, and you're one of the Golden Trio. I knew we would be perfect together."

"Interesting. What else?" Hermione smiled.

"What else?" Marcel echoed.

"Yeah, did you feel like we had some sort of bond?" She asked inquisitively, referencing the threatening note she'd received a few weeks back.

"Bond?" Marcel repeated. "Well, if things go well tonight we can definitely work on that...at my place." He said suggestively.

"Hmm." Hermione tried to acknowledge the comment without gagging.

After another twenty minutes of chit-chat, half of which was sexual innuendos on Savoy's part, Hermione concluded that this couldn't possibly be her stalker. He was an open book.

Hermione maintained her polite persona as she stabbed a piece of broccoli with her fork. Savoy continued to blather on about his latest case whilst simultaneously stuffing his face with cuisine Hermione couldn't pronounce.

Hermione went for another bite, when she heard a gurgled noise come from across the table. She looked up to see Marcel cough. He looked curiously down at his plate and coughed again. Then a third time.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked, putting down her fork.

The fit grew louder, and Hermione watched in surprise and fear as his next cough spilled blood into his napkin.

Hermione stood up, her chair flipping it backward onto the floor in the process.

"Help!" She called over to a waiter passing by. By now most of the room was in commotion and Hermione watched as the waiter raced off to call for help.

Hermione watched in horror. She was about to move to him, but within seconds his face and lips turned blue. With a loud bang, his face slammed directly onto his dinner plate.

He was dead.

She heard a few shrill screams as people raced out of the restaurant. Hermione couldn't move, couldn't breathe. She just stared at him in shock as he lay motionless on the table.