Hermione put down her quill and pushed aside the twelve feet of parchment aside on her desk. This case was going to either break her or save her. Either way, she'd accepted the case and now wasn't the time to whine about how heavy the load was.
It wasn't like there was anyone else in the department honest enough to not let the case fail before the Wizengamot, either because of blackmail or sympathetic feelings.
So many people depended on her efforts to keep the murderer behind concrete walls forever.
She stepped away from her desk, right in the middle of the Department of Law Enforcement. Her destination for this trip was the Minister's personal Library, inside the Archives. Madame Muggeridge had been a tremendous asset in the research she needed in Pureblood laws from the last two centuries. Her knowledge of esoteric Wizarding Law saved Hermione weeks of research time and gave her the laws, facts, and information needed to bring so many more charges in the case. Even with the diligent research, and Madame Muggeridge signing off on the information, it took Hermione a month to justify to her Director the vast amount of charges she brought to the case, not including all of the murders he committed.
On the first day, when the charges were being read into the official record, she hadn't even charged him with all of the murders on his hands. She'd only dictated the accounting in front of the entire Wizengamot the murders on his hands, at least the ones he'd personally acknowledged. No, she'd decided that she'd keep half of them out of the charge list, as a back-up in case the Wizengamot released him from custody out of Pureblood alliances.
She was going to make sure he'd stay inside the grey walls of Azkaban for the rest of his days.
She walked into the Archives and stood still for a moment. The place was old, with leather and wood and brass fixtures and gas lamps on the walls, stretching floors above her head. The smell of ink and parchment were as comforting as fresh mown grass and Ron's hair.
Ron.
She opened her eyes and smiled, thinking about being enveloped by his scent earlier this morning. His long arms, legs, bony hips and tussled hair were her aphrodisiac. There was so much comfort being surrounded by her husband when she was so busy on this case. Those precious moments felt like stealing from someone else's life. He'd made a point the last two weeks to help keep her stress level down, from cooking meals for her, picking up his socks in their bedroom, and even pulling her into embraces that turned more passionate to help cope with the pressure and let her catch a few hours of sleep.
She shook her head away from the memories of Ron and stepped among the stacks of books. She passed the bulk of the tables in the middle of the library. Soft light drifted from there to among the stacks she walked. Witches and wizards were present, doing their own research, keeping the ministry ticking along. One would occasionally nod their head her way or smile, but otherwise, in here, it was a library bar none, where you could spend hours and day without being bothered.
Her task was simple – making her way to the Ministerial archive. Here, there was more dust and old parchment smell. But then this section was also where the Wizarding History was stored, too. She needed a particular reference from a case in 1835 to support her charge of unlawful kidnapping of another man's wife. She'd had it earlier but the information was buried in 50 feet of parchment notes from three months prior.
It was quite easier to get the book and page again.
She slid to the right stack of shelves, books containing the memoirs and historical records of the previous Ministers of Magic. She pulled the vital one, the previous Muggle Minister of Magic, and watched the shelving slide to the right.
She didn't realize she was being watched.
She stepped into the expansive alcove of private books when she was shoved harder into the room. "Ron," she whispered.
She stumbled into the shelving in front of her, knocking down half a dozen of reasonably new books on the shelf. She turned, bearing her vinewood wand from her skirt pocket. She had the spell half-formed before her wand was yanked out of her hands non-verbally.
She stood up from the shelving and he dropped her to the ground, painfully, punching her in the face. She groaned and felt a kick in the ribs.
"Fancy catching you in here, Solicitor." The veiled venom dripped from the disillusioned figure. He dropped her to the ground. "Not so powerful without your wand, are you? Just another weakling."
She struggled to right her balance but crawled towards the back wall, putting a solid surface behind her. Her ribs ached and it hurt to breathe.
"It seems you're not getting away this time, Miss Granger."
She glared at the area where the voice was speaking. Between the wizard's disillusionment and the shadows from the gas lamps in here, it was hard to see where he was hiding.
"I don't care how you do it, solicitor, but no matter what, you're going to lose this case. He will be released and he will walk out of that chamber. You will not prosecute him again once he's freed."
"No, I won't." In the darkness of the room, she silently unsheathed her second wand, the one she'd earned through blood and tears. "I am an officer of the court and my duty is to it, and the Wizengamot. You cannot compromise my duty. You will not threaten me to lose a case."
"It's either lose the case or lose your life, here, right now." The tip of the wand pointed at her illuminated, showing a second wand over the wizard's shoulder.
"You won't kill me. There's no escape from this room."
"You're hilarious, Granger, considering you are wandless. I can escape and will not pay for murdering you. I will be quietly celebrated among proper society for cleansing your filth from our ranks."
"I will not yield," she spoke with as much steel as she could muster. She had the spell on her lips. But was she fast enough to drop him where he stood.
The hidden wizard silently cast a spell, hitting the book behind her and exploding the parchment.
"I said throw the case, witch."
"You think that little demonstration is supposed to scare me? You think that you can frighten me into doing your yielding, when you're the coward hiding in the dark corners trying to intimidate me? You're mental if you think that. You don't frighten me."
Quiet feet shuffled back a few steps. "Your remains will be found in here, nothing but ashes, and only that pathetic excuse of a Pureblood will mourn you."
"I'm not pathetic," Ron growled into the wizard's ear while Hermione lifted the black walnut wand in her hand and silently cast her spell. It hit him square in the chest , knocking him and Ron into the far back wall.
Ron!" She screamed bloody murder. She struggled to get up from the ground, wheezing from where she'd been kicked in the ribs and punched in the face. She tried to shove the stunned wizard off Ron but couldn't manage it.
"I'm alright," He groaned. Ron pushed harder and shoved the unconscious wizard of him then scrambled to his feet.
"Are you hurt?" she inquired. Deft fingers touched his face and shoulders.
"Nah, just surprised. That was one hell of a stunner, Hermione." Ron illuminated his wand. "Bloody hell, he hit you!"
Ron touched her face and cheek. "He did, just to get me thrown off." She spat blood and a tooth out. "He kicked me, though."
"You need a healer."
"No, I want the Wizengamot to see me like this on Monday. They won't stop me prosecuting this case."
"You're mental. You might have a broken rib. I'm taking you to a healer.
"We agreed on that years ago. And I will, with you, once we find out who this is."
Ron cast another spell and secured him with ropes everywhere. A last spell removed the disillusionment from his face. "Bloody hell! I know him."
"That's James Richardson," Hermione spoked over Ron. "He's the Director of the International Wizarding Confederation and best friends with the Mugwump. This is a serious problem." Hermione wrapped her arms around her ribs to keep the pain at bay. "Are we sure it's him and not someone else under Polyjuice?"
"We'll know in a day, I reckon. Robards is going to have my head on a pike for this."
"Why? You saved my life. He was willing to torch the archives to murder me."
"I know. I heard him." Ron looked around further. "Shite. We need to get him down to a cell. But I need the Director's help." Ron brought up his happiest memory and his terrier popped into existence. "Director, you're needed at the Minister's private Archives. Hermione was attacked. Wizard was apprehended but it's politically complicated. You're needed immediately."
The terrier ran out.
Five minutes later and after one snogging, The Director walked into the private chamber. "This better be good, Weasley." He stopped when he saw Hermione's face. "Who assaulted you?"
She pointed at the still-stunned wizard on the ground.
"You were right to call me, Weasley. Oh this is going to be a huge problem. Take Granger out of here. I have to call in a favor for this. And the Minister has to be told."
"Sir?"
"Take her to the Auror infirmary now. You can write your reports when she's cleared. She is to not leave your sight until this case is finished. As of now, she is your only duty, Weasley."
"Yes, sir." Ron pulled Hermione close to him, with his wand out, and escorted her to the lifts.