Chapter Twenty-Eight: In Greene's Office
Jillian bit down, her teeth tearing into the skin of her apple, a hunk breaking lose and juice dribbling down her chin. Annoyed by the sticky sweetness gathering on her skin, she whipped it angrily away with her sleeve.
There hadn't been time this morning for a proper breakfast. She had to move quickly. Get things rearranged to her liking. It wouldn't take long for certain people inside the Ministry to learn what steps she had taken and try and put an end to them. She wasn't about to let that happen.
She bit into the apple again, the skin giving away to her white teeth. There really hadn't been time to stop and get even the apple, but the pangs in her stomach were so fierce she couldn't ignore them and continue t work without distraction.
The apple didn't seem to be helping any. The moment the fruit hit her stomach it screamed the louder, hungry for more sustenance.
Annoyed, she took another bite and turned into her office. She closed the door behind her and leaned into it. She crossed one arm over her stomach, rested her other elbow on the back of her hand, and lifted the apple to her lips.
She paused a moment, the red skin resting against her bottom lip. After tapping it there several times she bit deep, holding the fruit with her teeth. She fumbled around in her pocket for a moment as she searched for her wand. Pulling it free she flicked it towards the far wall.
A slow ripple, like a pebble dropped into still water, began in the middle of the wall and moved out, disturbing the illusion of a blank space until a series of maps were revealed, becoming more detailed with each ripple of magic.
When the waves ended and the wall was once again solid, Jillian pushed away from the door and moved towards the largest of the maps. She took another bite from her apple, head tilted, eyes narrowed, until she was standing right in front of it. She finished chewing the fruit and swallowed while tapping the tip of her wand against her cheek. She considered for a few more seconds before she brought the tip to the map, striking it softly in a few locations before stepping back.
Three little red balls of light appeared in the spots she had indicated, the small orbs hovering just over the map. She took another bite as she considered. She tilted her head to the other side. She gave the map one more tap.
Satisfied she waved her wand and the map of England sank into the background. Another wave and a map of the continent moved forward. She tapped the map again. A green light popped into existence and came to a stop, hovering just over Spain. Another tap and the rest of the map fell back and Spain came forward, growing, filling the space where England had been moments before.
The frown on Jillian's face deepened as she took in the map. Yes. Spain was where she'd go next. That feeling she got in the pit of her stomach, the feeling that told her she was onto something, was telling her that she was right about this.
Granger's logic was solid. There was no doubt about that. Any fool could see there hadn't been time for Granger to get the child to Spain then come back between the time the child was reported missing and when her team picked up Granger in her office. Without the use of a Time Turner…and how could she possibly have gotten her hands on one of those? No. It had to be something else. Or, someone else, more likely. But even then, there weren't many people in the world like the Weasleys. Willing to over look a law or two to help a friend. What were the chances Granger had found another self-sacrificing idiot to be her friend while she was in Spain? Not very high. But she was a Gryffindor, and Gryffindors did seem to be able to achieve that kind of devotion between their friends.
Jillian stepped closer to the map, focusing on the lines and dots that indicated the different cities and towns that speckled the country side of Spain.
However small the chances were of making that kind of friend, she appeared to have done it. It was the only logical explanation. It explained how the child had disappeared so completely without a trace. And Harry Potter's untimely visit to the country. And probably most damning, it explained Grangers unexpected confession. She rested the tip of her long finger just below the city of Madrid.
Madrid. The city Hermione had lived in for the past five years. The city Harry Potter had flown into. One of the largest, over populated, busy cities in the country. Somewhere in that city was the answer to all her questions. She tapped her wand there. The city glowed bright orange. Yes. Madrid. That was where she would begin her search anew.
Jillian jerked with surprise, wrenching out of her silent focus by the sound of knocking on her office door followed by the squeal of it opening. She turned to find her assistant ducking his head through the gap between the door and the sill.
"Captain Oldham?" He turned his head until he found her standing next to the wall. There was an uneasiness about him that unsettled her as he stepped into the room. He clasped his hands behind his back as he met her gaze full on. There was a hard edge to his eyes she hadn't seen there before. "General Greene wants to see you. In his office. Now."
Jillian sighed with annoyance. "Can't it wait?"
His face scrunched up on one side. "No." He drew out the word. "It can't. He wants you in his office. Immediately."
Cursing under her breath, Jillian waved her wand at the maps and the ripple began again, hiding the diagrams behind an illusion as they extended outward. "I really don't have time for this." She snarled as she marched past her assistant, tossing what remained of her apple in the rubbish bin. "He would want to see me now." She grumbled under breath. "Now that I have everything all but taken care of he has time to see me. Where was he a week or two ago?"
She turned off the empty corridor into the reception area of Greene's office. His assistant was already standing near the door, hand resting on the handle to open it for her.
Not sparing the assistant another glance, Jillian marched past into his office. The door closed behind her.
The backside of the Daily Prophet greeted her, its moving pictures momentarily distracting her. An angry face stared back at her. She looked away.
"Morning Chief." She said, forcing a note of frivolity into her voice she didn't feel.
After a moment the paper moved. Greene lowered it, folding it carefully along the crease. His eyes were firm and ill-humored as they stared at her. "Take a seat Jillian."
Sensing immediately in his demeanor a severity he didn't normally carry around with him, Jillian moved to the chair and sat, her movements feeling just as stiff and precise of Greene's had been.
The silence was interrupted with the thud of the folded paper connecting with his thigh. It was rhythmic and grating, gnawing on her raw nerves. To counter the effects she tried to force herself into as relaxed a pose as she could manage. Whatever was about to happen she didn't want Greene reading anything off her.
After what felt like an eternity of silence he slapped the paper against his leg one last time. "Have you seen the papers this morning?"
Jillian looked at him quizzically, his question not at all what she had been expecting. "No Sir. I haven't the time to waist on such frivols activities."
"Well," he sat up. "Why don't you take a moment and join the rest of us frivolous people and make the time." He threw the paper at her.
She caught it in a mess of hands and arms, the leaves starting to come loose of the pile.
"Go ahead." He instructed when she stared at him. "Read it."
Her sense of dread growing, Jillian flipped over the paper. She stared at the broadsheet a moment in confusion. A picture took up the most of the front page. It was a picture taken just after the war. It depicted a slightly younger Hermione Granger standing next to the Minister of Magic, meekly accepting an award for her services to the Wizarding Community for her deeds of bravery and self-sacrificing during the course of the war and her role in helping bring an end to Voldemort's rein.
Jillian lowered the paper, lifting her eyes to ask Greene what this was all about but stopped when she spotted the caption emblazoned over the top.
War Hero Imprisoned: Hermione Granger Held In Maximum Security
Jillian tried to stop her fingers from curling into the paper as she slowly brought it closer to her face to read. The room was silent as she scanned the lines, each one exclusively targeting her as the reason behind Granger's captivity.
She held the paper in front of her face a moment longer after she finished reading the damning article, composing her features before she'd let Greene see her face. "That's it?" She asked. Tossing the paper back on his desktop in what she hopped appeared to be a flippant maneuver. "You called me away from my work to read that?"
Blood pooled in Greene's face, altering it a bright red in the effort to restrain his anger. "Do you have any idea," he asked slowly, "what you've done?"
"Yes." She crossed her right leg over the other, perfecting a relaxed pose. "I got a confession out of our friend Ms Granger." She lifted her hand to examine her nails.
"A confession?" Greene barked sharply. "You got a confession? Well isn't that just bloody fantastic?" He shoved angrily against his desk, moving back his chair so he had enough room to gain his feet. "What the hell kind of good is that going to do anyone?"
"I don't understand," she lowered her hand, scrunching her features in what she hopped was a perplexed look. "Isn't that what we do here?"
Greene's eyes narrowed. "Don't get smart with me, Oldham. This isn't the time. You've gotten yourself into a real mess."
"What mess?" Her hand waved dismissively. "Stories run about us all the time in the Prophet. It's never bent you out of shape before."
"This isn't like every other time, Jillian." Greene rounded the side of his desk. "This isn't just another case. This isn't just another criminal."
Jillian's jaw stiffened, her teeth clenched. "Of course it is."
"No Jillian. This is Hermione-Bloody-Granger we're talking about. She's not just anybody. She has friends. Important friends. "
"There's no need to tell me that."
"Obviously there is. You didn't seem to hear me the first time around."
"I heard you."
"Did you? Did you really? Because I seem to recall warning you to watch your step. To make sure you followed the rules. To play this one by the book."
"I did…"
"No," He cut her off. "You did not. Or we wouldn't be here right now having this conversation."
Jillian very carefully placed her hands on the arms of the chair, curling her fingers slowly around the ends. "I haven't done anything I've not done before."
"Which is part of the problem." There was an edge of defeat in his voice. He released some of his anger in a rush of air, slumping angrily on the edge of his desk, hands braced on the edge, fingers curling tightly underneath. "I can't put this all on you." His head bowed. "I've allowed you to get away with too much. I've been lenient with you when I shouldn't have been. I've let you get away with things I would have tore into anyone else for, because you were a good Auror. You served the Ministry well… in your day…"
Jillian forced her features into an expressionless mask. "But…" she asked, hoping he didn't hear the tremor that had crept into her voice.
"But you've overstepped your bounds this time. You went behind my back and placed a war hero in maximum security without clearing it with me first." He leaned forward, hands braced heavily on his knees. "Did you think I wasn't going to find out?"
She tipped her chin defiantly. "It took you this long."
Greene's nostrils flared. "I'll warn you to remember who you're talking to. You're already hanging by a thread. You'd be well advised to be very careful what you say next. I'm this close," he held up his thumb and forefinger, a small gap between them, "from cutting you lose all together. As it is, you've already left me very few options."
He turned away from her to walk back around his desk. "You'll go back to your office and pack your things…"
"Sir," She was on her feet in an instant.
"Until further notice," he said over her interruption, "you're suspended."
Jillian gapped at him dumbly for a moment. She opened her mouth several times to speak, but only gapped, the words unable to make it past her throat. "Sir," she choked. "This has to be some kind of sick joke."
"Jillian," he held his hands up, open, facing her. "My hands are tied. The public is screaming for your head. Owls have been flooding the Ministry since four o'clock this morning, demanding your job. We've had to put up numerous wards to keep them all out. The Community is enraged. You put Hermione Granger, member of the Golden Trio, the Golden Girl of Hogwarts, Harry Potter's best friend, in a top security cell of Azkaban prison. What did you think was going to happen?"
"I haven't done anything wrong."She said desperately. "I've used these same tactics before. I got the confession, didn't I?"
Greene's face widened with momentary shock. "Just how many others?"
Jillian stared at him a moment, incomprehensibly before her eyes widened in horror. She turned her face away a moment too late.
"Jillian." He snapped. "How many others have there been?"
Jillian crooked her head until she was looking at him. "Granger's the only one I put in top security."
Greene's eyes widened with horror of his own. "But not the only one you've tormented with Dementors?"
Jillian squared her shoulders, flinging her hair back off her face. "I got the confession."
"Yes." He shook his head with disbelief. "Yes you've got the confession. And I'm sure the courts will be more than willing to let you use it when they learn how it was obtained. Jillian…" He took a breath to try and calm his roaring temper. "We don't use Demenotrs as a form of corrosion. We don't torture people. We're not…Death Eaters."
Jillian slammed her hands down on the top of her thighs. "There was no other way to make her talk."
"You don't know that. There may have been. But we'll never know now. You've lost your chance to try."
"Hermione Granger kidnapped that little girl."
"And you've managed to make her untouchable but turning her into even more of a hero. The people already loved her. And now they love her even more because they believe she was protecting that little girl from Death Eaters. Can you, for even a moment, try and imagine how this must look to them. You've gone and locked up their hero for being a hero. The only way you could have made this worse was if you'd locked up Harry Potter or Ron Weasley. What were you thinking?"
Jillian turned away, refusing to answer.
"If I were you, Jillian," he offered, "I'd be very careful not to get caught alone in the next couple days."
Floundering, feeling lost in her very own worst nightmare, Jillian bit into her tongue painfully. She swallowed her cry of pain as she lifted her eyes from the floor. "So once again," she finally managed, "a member of the Golden Trio gets special treatment. She's going to get off, free and clear? With nothing more than a slap on the wrist?"
"I think you've put her through more than just a slap on the wrist."
She ignored the comment. "Why am I not surprised? Those three get away with everything."
"And whose fault is it this time? If you had just followed the rules like I told you…"
"I can't believe you're blaming this on me?"
"Who else should I place the blame on? Your own actions brought out this outcome, not mine. I didn't sign any orders to transfer Granger to Azkaban. Nor did I okay her being placed in maximum security. You did that all on your own."
"Fine." The tears that had flooded her eyes escaped down her cheeks. "That's just fine. Go ahead and put all of this on me. I don't care." She lurched to her feet. "If you'll excuse me, I have work to do."
"Not here you don't." He stopped her when her hand was resting on the knob of the door. "You can go back to your office, like I said, and pack any personal items you might wish to bring with you. I'll have someone come and escort you home."
Jillian refused to look back at him. "I can manage to make it home on my own, thank you."
"For your own protection…"
Her head snapped around. "I can take care of myself."
They stared at each other for a solid minute. Finally he desisted with a nod. "As you wish."
Jillian wrenched the door open and slammed it closed behind her. She collapsed against the panel, her hands shaking. She blinked several times, trying to make her roaring brain focus. She couldn't comprehend what had just happened.
Suspended?
Her?
How had this happened? How had she lost control so completely? And without any warning? Was it really just this morning that she had begun planning a rescue mission? No. Not this morning. Half an hour ago. How could a person's world turn so completely upside down in less than half an hour?
What was she going to do? Her chest tightened, her breathing starting to come quicker. Her eyes darted around frantically, searching for an escape, something magical in the long hallway that would rescue her.
There was nothing.
In the back of her mind she knew that if she didn't move soon Greene would come out of his office and find her still standing there. She couldn't bear the further humiliation that would cause her. Mustering what little was left inside of her she pushed away from the door.
After only a few steps she could feel a pair of eyes settle on her back and follow her progress. Greene's assistant was watching her, the overwhelming sense of condemnation and disgust raising gooseflesh on the back of her neck.
She stepped out of the hallway and into the fringes of the cubicle made labyrinth, halting as several more pairs of hostile eyes landed on her. She made a slow circlet of the room with her eyes, noticing for the first time how unusually quiet it was.
As if to answer her unspoken question an Auror, who stood looking at her over her cubicle wall, lifted her copy of the Daily Prophet so that Jillian could see just enough to recognize it over the top. The woman slowly shook her head as she lowered the paper, her disapproving eyes never leaving Jillian.
She pulled her eyes away and froze when she met a pair of familiar eyes, the disapproval even more intense in their normally warm, golden orbs. She scanned the eyes. More and more of them were eyes she recognized as belonging to members of her own team.
Gabriel Johnson stood leaning against the corner of the nearest cubicle. Her fists clenched at the sight of him. "Was it you? Did you go to the papers?"
He stared at her stonily for a moment. "No."
"And why don't I believe you?"
He shrugged uncaringly. "Probably because I warned you this might happen." He shook his head as he stepped away from the wall. He bent his head in toward her. "You knew this was wrong, Jill. You knew."
"So why didn't you go to Greene yourself?"
"Because I didn't have this much on you." He waved the paper in front of her face. "I will tell you though, I wish I had thought of this. Very smart."
Jillian had to clench her hands at her side to keep from slapping him. The insults kept coming. First the Ministry and now her own team had turned their backs on her as well. Her desire to strike growing worse the longer she stared at him, she looked away. "You," she shoved Gabriele to the side, slamming him into the wall of the cubicle. "You." She bore down on Harry standing at the entrance to the hall leading to their offices, a satisfied smile turning up the corners of his lips. "You did this to me."
"Really?" Harry pushed away from the wall as she came to stand in front of him. He leaned towards her, his face inches away from hers. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."
"You went to the papers. You fed them confidential information."
"You think so?" Harry's eyes sparkled maliciously. "See, I read the paper this morning and my name wasn't mentioned, save in relationship to my best friend being put in prison. That I remember reading."
"You sold me out."
Harry lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. "You've been torturing my best friend. You're lucky that articles all that happened to you."
"You won't get away with this. You signed a contract with the Ministry. You'll lose your job for leaking information."
Harry stepped back from her. "I don't know what you're talking about, Oldham. I wasn't the one who talked to the press. We all know what little respect I have for the Prophet. If I was going to talk, why would it be to them?" His lip twitched, fighting not to smile. "If you'll excuse me, I have a trial to get to."
"Don't you walk away from me Harry Potter." She turned with him. "This isn't over."
Harry kept walking, ignoring her.
"This isn't over!" She shrieked at his back.
"Jill," Gabriele put a hand on her elbow, startling her. She spun around, fists raised, nearly hitting him. He pushed her hands down. "Jill, why don't you go to your office?"
"He…"
"Jill," He cut over her. "Go to your office."
She looked over his shoulder and saw that every Auror in the room was watching her, their eyes glued to the angry tears sliding down her cheeks.
"Go," he murmured, "Before you embarrass yourself further."
She wrenched her hands free. "Before I embarrass myself, or before I embarrass you?"
Throwing her chin back she whirled around. She walked determinedly down the hall refusing to let herself look anywhere but forward.
Harry Potter thought it was over. She could tell by his face. Oh, how wrong he was. This wasn't over. This was far from over. Greene might have suspended her and her own team might hate her, but she didn't care. As if any of that was going to stop her now. She was too close. Too close to bringing down Saint Potter and the rest of the Holy Trio. She'd keep looking. She'd go to Spain and tear Madrid apart. Brick by brick if she had to. She'd do everything and anything to find that child and bring her back to England now. Not only that, she's see to it personally that Hermione Granger went to Prison for a very, very long time.
Which meant, she walked briskly past her office, she had one last favor to call in before she was forced to leave the premises. No one made a fool out of Jillian Oldham. Not Hermione Granger. Not Harry Potter. Not Roland Greene. No one.
Another train barreled forward. Ron lifted his eyes to watch it go, unable to focus on the colorful blur, the cars moving too fast for his weary eyes to focus. The air around him screamed as the train plunged further into the tunnel, pulling it along with it. The last car disappeared from sight, the change in air pressure pulling Ron forward into a slumped position. He let the breath out of his lungs in a slow hiss.
The station around him quieted. In a few minutes Muggles would start filling the platform again, ready to catch the next train, letting it carry them off to their next destination.
He envied them. Each and every one of them. They all had a purpose. Somewhere they needed to be. People to be there with. A clear idea of what their next move was. Where they would go from here. Not only that, but the conviction to get there. While he, well, he was trapped. He had no idea how he was going to move forward and even less of an idea of how to move back.
He watched unseeingly as the platform slowly filled once again and a train pulled into the station, continuing the cycle and depressing him further. A part of him wanted to get on that train. Let it take him where ever it was going, get off somewhere along the way and get on the next one. Anywhere, and he did mean anywhere, had to be better then where he was right now.
Feeling restless he scanned the crowd around him. She still hadn't arrived.
He didn't know what had possessed him to send that owl. Of all the people that he could or should be talking to, Bernie Hamlin was not anywhere close to the top of his list. He should go. Leave before she got here and he managed to make an even bigger fool of himself.
Mind half made up, Ron put his hands against the seat to help gain his feet when a voice echoed off the tiled walls, halting him mid motion.
"Ron?" He looked up at the anxiety he heard in her voice. "Ron, are you all right? I came as soon as I got your message. What's happened?"
Ron opened his mouth, ready to tell her it had all been a mistake and he was sorry for wasting her time, but something in her eyes made him stop. "Bernie…" he sighed, resigned. "Thank you for coming." He ducked his head with shame. "I hope I didn't pull you away from anything important."
"Never mind that." She waved of his concern, sitting on the bench beside him. "Are you all right. Did something happen today?"
Ron shook his head. "No. No, nothing happened." He clasped his hands tightly between his knees. "Nothing at all."
"Ron," she placed a hand tentatively on his shoulder, her voice coaxing him to continue with her sincerity. "You didn't owl me for nothing."
He looked down at his hands, concentrating his attention away from her and onto a hangnail on his left thumb. Be picked at it with his right. "I testified today."
"Yes," She nodded. "Carbonell and Melantha Javed. I know."
She waited, patiently, knowing he would continue only when he was ready.
Ron swallowed heavily. "I thought…." His voice cracked, forcing him to swallow again to clear the phlegm still caught in his throat. "I guess…I deluded myself… into believing it would be over today." He turned his head slightly so he could look into her eyes. He let out a sound of disgust. "How pathetic am I?"
Bernie reached for his hand, holding it comfortingly between both of hers. "You're not pathetic."
"I am." He pulled his hand free, her comfort making him feel worse. "Because a part of me honestly believed that this was all just a part of their master plan."He closed his eyes. They fluttered softly as he fought with the moisture gathering there. "I think I really believed this was all a ruse. That they were going to use her as a bargaining chip for their freedom." His shoulders tensed. "I expected them to contact me to negotiate a deal. The return of Blake for time off their sentence." His breath shuttered as he inhaled. "I think…I think that…I would have let them." He turned his head to look her straight on. "I'm a Ministry Auror and I really believe I would have let them go. I would have compromised myself and my team to get her back." He shook his head with disgust. "I'm despicable."
"No." Bernie said insistently. "You're not."
"I am. I am…I took an oath and…that's not we're about."
"Ron,"
"But the thing is," he continued as if she hadn't spoken, "in all the times I thought about this day, this wasn't …it wasn't supposed to end like this."
She reached for his hand again, curling her fingers around his. "It's not over yet."
"No." He sat up. "It is." His head trembled from side to side. "Because… they don't have her." His hand tensed. "They really don't have her."
Bern opened her mouth to speak but stopped, not knowing how to put her next question. She tilted her head to the side, staring at their folded fingers. "Do you…" She closed her eyes, taking a moment to swallow. "Do you think you know who might?"
Ron nodded, head lowered. "Yeah. I think I do."
"Is it…" she paused to reconsider her phrasing. "Is it who I think you think it is?"
Ron laughed humorlessly. "Probably." He nodded. "It probably is. Which is only going to cause a whole new mess of trouble."
"What do you mean?"
"Look," Ron turned to face her, "I'm sorry to bother you with this. I didn't know who else to talk to. Harry and Parker, they…and Ginny…she…"
"It's alright." bernie soothed, lacing her fingers through his, not knowing how else to help him. "I'm a good listener."
"That's just it. I can't." His eyes searched hers beseechingly. His mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. "I don't know what to say. Hell, I don't even know what I'm thinking. Everything up here," he tapped his temple, "is a jumbled up mess. Nothing makes any kind of sense."
"Maybe talking about it would help." She offered.
"Yeah." He shrugged, unconvinced. "Possibly."
"So?" she prompted when he didn't continue.
With a sigh Ron released her hand and stood up. He began pacing, his long strides taking him far away from her in only moments. He turned and made his way back. "I've come to the conclusion," he said after several passes, "that there's one place left to look. And if Blake's not there…"
Bern's tongue darted out to wet her lips. "Yes?"
Ron stopped pacing to look her dead in the eye. "What am I saying? I'll keep looking. I…" He waved his hand in front of him. "Really, it's irrelevant. I won't stop looking until I…until I know what happened to her. I might have to leave the Ministry to do it…but that's not important." He resumed pacing. "The real question is, what do I do if I find her?"
"Ron," Bernie shook her head. "I can't answer that for you."
"Why not?"
"Because, I can't."
Ron thrust his fingers through his hair. "I don't think I can give her up."
Bernie sat a little straighter in her seat. "Who?"
"Blake." He looked at her with one brow arched. "Who did you think we were talking about?"
"Blake, of course."
Ron nodded, continuing to pace. "I leave for Spain in two hours. And I'm torn." He stopped facing away from her. He gripped his hands behind his back. "I'm torn Bernie. Because a part of me… I really think I'm going to find her there."
"Then what are you still doing here?" She was on her feet behind him.
"If I find her," she watched the ball in his throat bob when he swallowed. "That means…"
"That Granger really did it." She finished knowingly.
Ron nodded.
"So what?" She waited for Ron to turn around. "So what if she did? That would mean she took a child out of the country illegally."
"Exactly."
"I'm sorry, Ron." She shrugged, lost. "I'm not following you."
"Like I said," he tapped his temple. "It's a mess up here."
Bernie's eyes narrowed when he looked away. "There's something you're not saying."
"No."
"Yes," she turned him by the arm to face her. "There is. What is it?"
"I can't." He shook his head.
"Ron," she said sternly.
"I can't." He pulled his arm away. "You'll think I'm a horrible person."
"No I won't."
"Really. Because a part of me hopes I don't find her there."
"You don't mean that."A fresh train pulled into the station, drawing the bodies that had gathered around them forward. People surged past Ron, sucking him towards the train as they moved forward to climb aboard.
Ron swayed with the crowd, letting them jostle his body aside but somehow still managing to make his way back to his place as the last of the travelers boarded and the train pulled away.
"I said a part of me. Not all of me." He defended.
"Same difference." Her hands were on his hips. "How could any part of you possibly want that? The well being or your child is at stake."
Ron growled with frustration, gripping his hair again. "And that's why I couldn't talk to Harry or Ginny or Parker about this." He lowered his hands placing them on his chest. "Don't you think I know how horrible I am? Do you think it was easy for me to admit that to you? I know what kind of person that makes me. And I hate myself for it. But it's the truth and it's been eating away at me." He held her eyes, even as he lowered his face. He blinked twice and a tear fell, sliding off his chin and onto his shirt. He dashed at it with his sleeve even as another escaped and slid down the other cheek. "This shouldn't even be an issue. I should have never let her go. I should have committed murder before I let those two leave the room with her. And I should have gone to Spain a long time ago. But I couldn't believe that she would…" Ron bit painfully into his bottom lip. "I don't know what…What if everything I believed is wrong?"
"You're a smart man, Ron." She took a moment to measure her words. "I don't think you could have been fooled that easily."
"Bern," he looked past her shoulder. "What if I'm wrong again? What if I don't find her?"
"You will." She said firmly.
"Okay, so what if I do…What if she doesn't remember me?"
"What if she does?" she countered. "There's only one thing you need to worry about right now. You need to go to Spain. You need to go to Spain and you need to find Blake. You bring her home. Then you can sit down and work everything else out."
"Yeah." He nodded numbly. "You're right. Or course you're right." He brushed his hair back out of his eyes. He turned to watch the next train pull into the station, the screaming air centering him as he watched the next set of Muggles get ready to board. "Bern," he turned his face towards her. "Thank you. For listening and…"
She pressed her fingers to his mouth, silencing him. "Don't think anything of it." She moved her hand so it was resting against his cheek. She let her thumb run along the gentle ridge of his cheekbone, enjoying the way the pale skin heated and darkened under her touch.
Their eyes met for a moment before he looked away. He stepped back out of her reach. "I'm sorry." He stammered. "I have to go."
"Please," she stepped after him when he turned to walk away. "Don't…I'm sorry I…" He looked back, his blue eyes stopping her mid sentence. "Don't go."
"I have to meet Parker." He said in a rush. "Only…and…well, we have a lot left to do before we leave."
"Of course," she nodded, stepping back. "Go." She folded her hands in front. "I should probably…" she took a step back and turned.
The tall redhead cringed with guilt. "Bern,"
She looked over her shoulder.
He glanced down at his watch. "I don't have to go just yet." She turned a little more. "And it wouldn't be very nice of me to unburden myself and Ron off without giving you the chance to do the same."
A smile ticked at the girl's lips. "Sadly, I don't have anything to unburden you with."
"So, ask me a question. Something you want to know."
She crossed her arms over her stomach, head tilted slightly with intrigue. "Anything?"
Ron nodded. "Anything."
Bernie lifted a hand to her chin, stroking it softly in mock contemplation. "The underground?" She asked, looking around with curious eyes.
"What about it?" there was a note of surprised humor to his voice.
"Is this where you normally come to think?"
Ron shrugged, scratching at his head, smile growing. "People leave you alone down here. Wizards don't normally come this way and Muggles are in too much of a hurry to get where they're going to pay you much attention." He shrugged again. "I can be alone without being alone."
Bernie's head shook slowly from side to side. "You're little strange, Ronald Weasley. Did you know that?"
"And what are you? The standard form for normal?"
"Merlin, no." She laughed. "Far from it in fact. I've been told in the past that I'm quite mad."
Ron joined her in a moment's laughter, but soon they were both quiet. Contemplative. "Do you think I'm doing the right thing?"
"Going after her?"
He nodded.
"Of course I do."
"Even if it means getting Herm…"
"Yes," she said even the more adamant. "You have to do what's right for you…Always."
Ron nodded. "Alright. Then I should probably go."
Bernie nodded as well. "You should. Ron," she reached for him before he could walk away, putting a hand on his arm. "I…" Her eyes searched his a moment before they disappeared behind her lowered lashes. "I just want to wish you all the best." She reached up and straightened the color of his shirt. "You'll let me know what happens, won't you?"
"As if you won't find out along with everyone else."
"Before everyone else." She lifted her eyes to his. "I'd like to hear what happens from you."
Thomas leaned forward, his head buried in his hands, emotionally reeling inside. He opened his eyes and looked down at the transportation orders spread out in front of him. In four days he would be transferring prisoner SF6896s to the Ministry. She would be going to trial against charges of kidnapping
In just a few minutes Hermione Granger's Legal Representation would arrive and he would escort the both of them to a meeting room, specifically designed for such a meeting, and they would get to strategizing. Who was he kidding? They wouldn't be strategizing. They would be scrambling for a miracle. And unfortunately, miracles were in short supply at the moment. Especially for Hermione Granger.
Four days? Thomas scowled at the order, crumpling it in his hand. It was ludicrous. How was anyone supposed to put together a case that had something close to a fighting chance in only four days?
The answer was simple. They couldn't. This trial could not be won in only four days of preparation. It was sabotage. Pure and simple. Thomas had no trouble recognize the situation for what it was. Hermione Granger was a victim of Jillian Oldham and her political allies. He'd seen Curan Shaw's name attached to Jillian Oldham's too many times not to recognize it for what it was.
Unfortunately, it wasn't a crime for an Auror to befriend a clerk for the Wizengaumont. Even less fortunate, it would be impossible to prove that Oldham had used that friendship to call in a favor. The only consolation he could take out of the situation was that Oldham hadn't managed to become friends with one of the Officials. If she had he imagined a lot more people would have gone straight to jail without a trial.
"Captain?" The door creaked open slightly. Thomas turned his head in time to see one of his men poke his head inside. "Captain. I thought I would tell you, Granger's Legal Representation is here. I'll show them back and…"
"No" Thomas threw aside the Order before pushing back his seat. "I'll take care of it."
"No… Really, Sir." He protested. "I can do it."
"No." Thomas narrowed his eyes as he pushed up from his seat. "That's alright." He said firmly, his look telling the other man to step down. "I've got it I have a few things I'd like to discuss with them before they meet her." He to the door before the guard could offer another protest. He maneuvered around the younger man and stepped from his office into the hallway.
His feet rooted to the floor just outside the door, his eyes going wide. He sucked in a harsh breath. "Asnath."
The guard leaned in towards Thomas. "I told you I would handle this, Sir." He said apologetically.
The two women standing in the hall turned to face him simultaneously, as if they were one unit moving seamlessly together. "Good afternoon, Thomas." The first said, bobbing her head curtly. "How've you been?"
It took Thomas a moment, but he ducked his head in return. "Asnath… It's been a long time."
The woman tilted her head to one side, a few of her mahogany tresses escaping the bun she had them pulled back in. With a quick, familiar flip of her wrist, she had them tucked behind her ear. Her eyes narrowed slightly, focusing on him. "Not long enough I see."
"As you say." Thomas forced an unnatural smile on his face. "Hello." He said turning from her to the woman standing just slightly behind her. "My name is Thomas Pane." He extended his hand.
"My assistant." Asnath motioned dismissively toward the other woman. "Ramilda Vane."
"Ms Vane." Thomas made a point of taking her hand and holding it a moment longer then was necessary. "I trust your journey out to the island wasn't too terrible?"
Ramilda's eyes darted quickly from his toes and back up, taking in the total affect of his appearance in a glance. "No," her hand firmed subtly around his fingers as she tilted up her face to flash him an intriguing smile. "Not too terrible. I am rather chilled though. How do you manage to keep warm out here?" Her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip.
From the corner of his eye Thomas saw something spark in Asnath's eyes. He had to turn his head the slightest to hide his smirk of satisfaction. "Charms, Ms Vane. Many, many warming charms." He held onto her hand a moment longer, waiting to see if Asnath's jaw would stiffen, a sure sign she was getting annoyed. When he saw the subtle tensing he released Ramilda's hand and stepped back. "If you'll just come with me?" He indicated they should follow before he turned and made his way towards the other end of the hall, not bothering to wait and see if Asnath was following but making sure to match his pace with that of Ms Vanes.
"As you can imagine," he said, looking at Ramilda but directing his comments to Asnath, "Under normal circumstance I would already have Ms Granger waiting for you in the meeting room. But seeing I only received word you were coming a short while ago…"
"I only just received word today myself." Asnath cut in sharply, "Or, I assure you, I would have been here earlier."
Thomas stopped and turned to face her, surprised. He could hear the genuine frustration in the tenor of her voice. "Is that so?"
Asnath sighed at the question she saw on his face. "You're a man of the law, Thomas. Surely you can't be oblivious to the complex workings of the Judicial System."
Rather than respond with words he nodded.
"Then you have to be aware…four days?" She jabbed fingers into her hair, letting more strands accidently lose from the rest. "How the hell am I supposed to put a case together in four days?" More hair fell into her face and she pushed it back with a frustrated growl. "This is a high profile case. If I lose this it will ruin my career."
"Ah…" He nodded mockingly. "Of course." He turned away. "I should have known your career is what you'd be worried the most about."
Asnath hurried her pace to catch up to him while Ramilda, feeling uncomfortable and awkward, slowed hers to fall behind. "Thomas," she reached for his arm, pulling him back. "This is my career. I've worked very hard to get where I am." She gave his arm another hard tug when he didn't turn. "Why can't you understand that?" She asked in a lowered voice.
Thomas let out his breath in a low heavy sigh. "It's always about your career, Asnath." He glanced up to her eyes. "Always." He shook her hand off and kept walking. "Have you stopped to think what it will cost Hermione if you lose?"
"Hermione?" She asked, surprised, one brow arched high on her head.
"Yes, Hermione. Hermione Granger. The women you're defending."
"I know who she is, thank you. I'm only surprised. I didn't realize you were on first name bases with your inmates."
"Does that bother you?"
"Not in the slightest."
"Good. As I was saying, Hermione has more at stake in this trial than her career. Her entire life depends on the outcome of this trial. So it would be appreciated if you kept that in mind as well."
Asnath squared his shoulders fiercely. "I'm not unaware of the consequences this case will have on Ms Granger's life. Thank you."
"Excellent. I'm glad to hear that. For a moment there I was worried you'd gotten into the profession for all the wrong reasons." He turned and continued walking.
"And what is so wrong about being concerned with what happens to my career?" She quickened her step to catch up to him. "I've sacrificed a lot to get where I am."
Thomas snorted. "As if I wasn't aware of that."
"You resent my success, don't you?"
"No."
"Of course you do. You always have."
"No." He spun suddenly around, pointing his finger at her. "I don't resent your success. I never have."
"Then what? What?"
He stared at her quietly for a moment longer before shaking his head. "Asnath, the fact that you still don't know means absolutely nothing's changed and it isn't worth my time to explain."
"I hate it when you do that, Thomas." Asnath snarled.
"Yeah well," he shrugged. "There are a lot of things you do that I hate as well. It's nice to know that we're finally on the same page. Ms Vane." He called, cutting off the conversation. "Have you, by chance, learned how to cast a Patronus?"
Ramilda hesitated for a moment before hurrying her step to catch up with the two.
"Yes." She nodded. "Of course."
"Then I suggest you do so. There's only one guard patrolling this floor but I find it best to protect yourself. Just in case."
Pulling his wand from his pocket, he cast the charm while Ramilda and Asnath struggled to do the same.
Satisfied that their Patronuses were strong enough to hold, he nodded and motioned them to follow. "Ms Granger's cell is on the way to the interview rooms. We'll retriever her on our way."
He used his wand to open a door that was large and heavy, battered with age and splintered from the harsh sea air.
The door eased open and a draft of chilled air swept out, seeping through their clothes as it escaped into the warm hallway. "This is where all our low security prisoners are kept. It might interest you to know that if you'd come a week ago I would have been forced to have you wait in the conference room while I went and escorted Ms Granger down."
"Why is that?" Ramilda asked, her genuine curiosity enough to dispel the awkwardness still lingering from the scene between the two back in the other hallway.
"Because up until a few days ago Captain Oldham of the Beta squad had Ms Granger placed under the highest amount of security available."
"Really?" One brow arched high on Asnath's brow.
He nodded.
"Huhh…that's interesting."
"I thought you'd think so."
"What? Why? Why is that so interesting?"
Asnath turned to her assistant. "The prisoners held in top security are the most dangerous witches and wizards captured by the Ministry. They're guarded by several Dementors around the clock in order to incapacitate them so that they're not a danger to themselves or the guards who watch them. Most of them lose their mind within the first week." She turned back to Thomas. "Why would she do that?"
"She wanted a confession."
"And she got one."
"Of course she did." Thomas glanced between the butterfly fluttering around Ramilda's head and the cat slinking alongside Asnath. "The Dementors on that floor are mean, blighters. You've both managed Corpral Patronuses, but they're not very firm. They wouldn't 've survive long against one of the more focused Dementors on that floor." He watched the butterfly flutter past him. "Trust me."
He turned and stepped through another door. "For the love of…" His steps picked up sudenly. "Not again. Oi," thrust his wand forward, sending his Great Dane leaping forward, charging the Dementor standing solitary in front of a single door. "I told you to leave her alone." The Dementor slunk back from the door. "There's plenty of other prisoners on this floor to feed from. Lay off her a while." The Great Dane growled as it stocked the Dementor further down the hall, snapping at it until it turned and glided away, slinking to the other end in search, no doubt, of another victim to focus its attention on until it could return to its preferred source.
"Hermione?" Thomas hurried to the cleared door, stopping at the window, hazarding a glance through the small portal, knowing before he looked what he would find.
She was curled in a familiar ball on the floor, arms wrapped around her knees, rocking. "He's not coming back. Never coming back. Disease. That's what I am. Disease. Nothing but heartache. Never coming back."
"Hermione."
Her eyes flew up to his. They sparkled, heavy with tears in the dim light. She blinked and one escaped down her face. "He'll never forgive me, will he? She was right? He's not coming back." There was a note of hysteria in her voice. "I ruined everything!"
Thomas sprung open the door and hurried into the cell. "You don't know that." He stopped in front of her, lowering himself to his haunches. "He'll come for you."
"He won't." Hermione shook her head. "I broke him. I broke his heart. I promised not to do that I again. I promised. I gave my word."
"I'm sure he'll understand."
"He won't." Her head continued to shake. "He won't. I'm a disease. I don't deserve him. I don't. Nothing but heartache. They all hate me. And who can blame them?"
"Hermione, please." He rested a hand on her arm. "You have to focus." He gave her a gentle shake. "There's two people here to see you."
Hermione's head snapped up. "Ron? Harry?" She looked wildly past Thomas, eyes bright with hope. He could tell the moment she spotted Ramilda and Asnath standing in the doorway. The sparkle that had leapt into her eyes instantly vanished.
"No." Thomas shook his head, reaching instinctively to rest a comforting hand on her shoulder while she ducked her head, tucking her shoulders up around her ears. "Not Ron and Harry. Not this time." He turned slightly to face the two women. Romilda had a hand over her mouth, her eyes glistening with tears of shock and horror. Asnath's eyes were wide as well but in the dim light Thomas couldn't tell if it was out of shock or revulsion. He knew from experience Asnath detested weakness in anyone, most especially herself. "This is Romilda Vane and Asnath Aumerile." He said, deciding not to press the issue.
"Ms Granger," Romilda chocked back a cry as she took a step forward. "Ms Granger, Hermione…I…Merlin…What's happened to you?"
Hermione stared at her through her dulled eyes. "Romilda." She bit at her bottom lip, easily breaking open the flesh. Her eyes noticed, tearing up, as she tried and force her brain focus. She pushed her mess of hair back out of her face, scrubbing at her cheek with her sleeve in the process. "Romilda." She said te girls name again, as if to reaffirm that she knew her. "What are you doing here?"
"I've…I'm here…I…"
"She's come as my assistant." Asnath said, striding forward, hand extended. "I've been assigned as your legal representation."
Hermione stared at the proffered hand for a moment as if she couldn't quite remember what it was she was supposed to do with it. "My legal representation?" She finally asked, ignoring the hand and looking past it to the beautiful face looking down at her from so high.
"That's right." Asnath lowered her arm. "Unfortunately for you, your trial's been set to begin in four days, which doesn't give us much time to prepare. So we need to get started straight away. Romilda," she nodded her head toward the open floor. "A table and chairs. You can leave Thomas, here is fine."
"Here is not fine." He crossed his arms in front of his chest making sure his wand lay predominantly across his bicep. "I'm not leaving you three here alone, easy targets for when that Dementor comes back."
"You know," Asnath spun around, wand gripped conspicuously in hand. "I find it rather insulting that you don't think Ramilda or myself capable of fending off one lousy Dementor."
"You and Ms Vane aren't the ones I'm worried about. You can easily withstand one Dementor encounter, Asnath. Hermione on the other hand…" He looked down at the woman still curled up on the floor. "All you have to do is look at her." He shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere."
Asnath's mouth turned up in a sneer. "I promise, I won't let anything happen to Hermione while I am here. You may go."
"And I'm telling you no. Hermione…" He waited for her to respond. "Hermione?" He said a bit louder. She was still looking up at Asnath, her eyes determinedly focused.
"They sent you?" She ignored Romilda who had made her way to Hermione's side and was trying to help her to her feet. "They sent you to represent me?" The dead weight of Hermione's arm slipped from Ramilda's grasp, landing painfully on her knee.
Asnath set her satchel down on the table Ramilda had conjured. "Yes, Ms Granger. They did."
Hermione stared for a moment loner before a snort escaped her lips. Eyes wide she clasped a hand to her mouth in a vain attempt to force back her deranged laughter. "They sent you? Of all the people in their employment, they had to send you."
Asnath bristled. "I don't see what's so funny?"
Hermione continued to laugh. "Of course you wouldn't, would you?"
"Ms Granger, please…" Ramilda was crouched down to her level. "Come and sit in the chair. Ms Aumerile is really very good. Let her help you."
"Help me?" Hermione turned her head until her face was just a few inches from Ramilda's face. "They expect me to let the woman who replaced me to be my legal representation?" She cackled again. "And he thinks I'm losing my mind?" She jabbed her thumb at Thomas.
Thomas's head jerked to the side. He took an automatic step towards Asnath. "You took her job?"
"There was an opening."
His mouth gapped open and closed several times as he tried to find the words. He settled for. "You're unbelievable."
"What? You expected me to turn them down? She's the reason I didn't get the job to begin with. It should have been mine all along."
"And I'm sure you'll do a fantastic job representing her, under the circumstances."
"Oh please." Asnath snorted. "As if that has any bearing on the matter. Even if I do manage to get her cleared they'll never offer her her job back. She's damaged her reputation too thoroughly. Besides, as I told you, this is a high profile case. It could very well make my career."
"And that's all that matters to you? That's all that's ever mattered to you."
"Well," she lifted her chin pointedly, "It's not like I have much else going for me anymore. Do I?"
"No." He agreed. "It doesn't look like you do."
For a moment it looked like Asnath would say something more, instead she made a point of turning, giving Thomas her back. "As I was saying, we have a lot of work to do and not a lot of time in which to do it. So if you'll please take a seat in one of the chairs, we'll get started."
Hermione's laughter had died away, morphing into strangled sobs. "Am I so despised, that…that they had to send you?"
"Hermione," Ramilda tried to pull her to her feet again.
"What's the point?" Hermione jerked her arm free. "Everyone hates me."
Romilda paused a moment. "I don't."
"Give it time," she said mirthlessly, "you will."
"Despite what you apparently believe, Ms Granger," Asnath took several steps until she was standing just in front of the two women crouched on the floor. "I was assigned as your representation because I was the newest member of the staff which meant I was the only person unbiased enough to handle the case." She pushed her hair back behind her ear. "No emotional attachment. Which I thought was utterly ridiculous. But…Just because they can't hire you back doesn't mean they don't want to. As for Ron and Harry and whoever else you might think hates you, they don't really matter. None of that matters right now. Because the truth is, if we don't get your name cleared, you won't be able to do anything about anyway. Until your trial is over nothing is going to matter beyond getting your name cleared. Now, will you please try and focus? As you well know, I can only help you as much as you help me."
"I'm perfectly capable of handling my own case."
"And I'm sure you would do an admirable job." Asnath pulled a stack of papers out of her bag and dropped them on the table. She turned and sat on the edge of the table, her hands braced on either side of her body as she leaned forward. "But everyone needs a little help every once and again. As it is, I'm sure you know as well as I do, that's it's nice to have someone there to back you up on a difficult case. It's reassuring to have someone standing beside you, ready to take over if you fumble." Her face softened with a brief glimpse of sadness. She glanced at Thomas. "Someone to help you stay strong when it feels like your whole world is crashing down."
Shifting uncomfortably, Thomas looked away.
Hermione nodded slowly, fresh tears springing from her eyes.
"Alright." Asnath straightened, her chin once again firmly set, her shoulders squared. We'll just do that for each other for a little while. Alright?"
Hermione nodded again.
"Alright. Ramilda," Asnath tipped her head toward Hermione. "Now let's talk about this confession Oldham managed to get out of you and more importantly, the circumstances surrounding how she obtained it."
"Would you please stop fidgeting?" Ginny growled under her breath, putting a hand firmly on Harry's thigh in a vain attempt to keep him still.
"Where is he?" He craned his neck around in the other direction. "He should be here for this."
"I don't even understand why we're here. Don't get me wrong," she said at Harry's look of disbelief. "It will be very satisfying to watch those two be carted away to Azkaban. But still." She looked around the crowded room. "I don't understand why we both had to be here."
"I told you. To support Ron."
"Who isn't even here." Ginny stared at him pointedly. "So why do I have to be? I need to feed Bry soon." She shifted uncomfortably, "And I'm sure Si's done a great job demolishing mum's house by now. Not to mention, I'm tired."
Harry sighed heavily, putting his arm over the back of Ginny's seating, resting it around her shoulders. "I'm sure it will only be a few more minutes."
"You said that half hour ago."
"I don't know what's taking him so long. Hermione did a great job putting this case together."
He could feel Ginny tense under his arm.
"Come on Ginny," Harry pulled away enough to look at her. "You might not like her very much right now, but you have to admit she's good at what she does."
"I don't have to admit anything." She said stubbornly, crossing her arms.
"You're right." He pulled his arm out from behind her, trying to mask his disapproval but failing. "You don't." He turned forward, hands clasped together, arms braced on his knees. "Why don't you go? I'll let you know what happens."
"Don't," Ginny shook her head. "Don't you do that to me, Harry." She took a calming breath. "Don't you look at me like that." She sad low enough for only him to hear.
He sat back. "I just don't understand why you can't even entertain…"
"I don't want to have this argument again. Especially not here." She said significantly.
"That's just it, Gin. You never want to have this conversation."
"And why do you think that is?" Her eyes glistened. "Do you think this is easy for me?" She held a hand for her breast. "Do you think I like having to make this choice?"
"You don't have to."
"Yes Harry, I do. I know it's hard for you to understand. You didn't grow up in a normal family. You don't have any siblings. My loyalty is always going to be to them." She shrugged gravely. "It has to be. You saw what the rift between Percy and Dad did to the family. I can't let that happen again. To any of us."
"Ginny," Harry turned in his seat to face her. "That's not going to happen."
"It already is. Look at Ron. He doesn't come around."
"He's hurting. He'll come back when he's ready."
"I won't give him any more reason to stay away." Her fingers curled against her thighs. "I am… so mad at her. Not only because of what she said to him. What she did…" She ducked her face, hiding her face with her hair. "But because of what she did to me. She was supposed to be my best friend and… how could she put me in this situation? She promised me. She promised me, Harry. And she broke it. She broke it."
"Gin," Harry wrapped his arms around her, drawing her into the circle of his arms, not caring that they were sitting in the middle of a crowded courtroom.
"Do you have any idea," her voice trembled, "how infuriating it is to have the person you want to vent to be the person you're mad at?"
He ran a hand tenderly along the ridge of her back. "You could always vent to me."
Her head shook against his chest. "That won't work."
"Why not? I'm your husband."
"It's not the same. You're not Hermione. Plus," she rubbed at the tip of her nose, "you're one third of the reason I need to vent."
"I see." He said uncertainly.
"Besides, I already tell you everything I would have told her. It just helps me to get it off my chest a second time." She used her hands for emphasis.
"So, what is it you're really mad at?"
Ginny's eyes darted around between different points in the room as she thought. "Everything."
"Right," he said sternly. "Well… I can't do much about everything. But I can promise this whole mess with Blake and Ron and Hermione will be over soon."
"You can't know that."
"We'll see." He said knowingly.
"What?" Before she could question him further the door at the front of the courtroom opened and the murmur of the crowd surrounding them died away as the Ministry Official reentered. Ginny pulled back a little from Harry so that she could turn in the circle of his arms and face front. She kept he head close to his chest, resting it lightly on his shoulder.
Up in front Paroles Pompey, the official residing over the trial, was still standing. He made quick work of scanning the room, seemingly in search of someone, his frown indicating the person he searched for wasn't there. He bent forward and said something to his clerk who shook their head in response. He scanned the room one last time, his eyes pausing momentarily on Harry before they finished the sweep.
"I'm ready to give my sentence." He said as he took his seat, turning the chair so he faced forward. "This case is very straight forward." He focused his attention to the two people sitting stonily behind the defendant's desk. "Carbonell and Melantha Javed," The couple rose to their feet; Carbonell defiantly, Melantha trembling as she clutched her husband's hand. "The evidence brought against you is overwhelming. I find you guilty of all charges." He said almost brightly. "Furthermore, I'm sentencing you both to two consecutive life sentences to be carried out back to back. I want to make sure you two are never free to cause anymore pain and havoc. All of your remaining assets have been seized by the Ministry to be distributed at a later date in a manner the court deems fit. I hope that's all clear. Now," he shuffled a stack of parchment on his desk until he found the one he was looking for, ignoring Melantha collapsing into her husband' s arms, sobbing. "That being said, it's been brought to my attention," he snapped his wrist, spreading the parchment open to read in front of his eyes, "that the child you were granted custody of, a situation I can't even begin to understand, has gone missing." He lowered the parchment to look over the top at them. "Is there anything you'd like to tell me about that?"
Carbonell stared at the judge, his face stoic. Melantha continued to sob.
"I wouldn't be above reducing your sentence for information leading to the child's recovery."
Carbonell's face turned up in an ugly sneer. "I would rather rot in jail for the next two hundred years than help Weasley find that child. I hope she's dead." He spat at the floor before turning his back on the judge.
"Very well." Pompey motioned the guards standing off to the side forward. "Take the prisoners away."
"Carbonell." Melantha clung to her husband's robes when the guards tried to pull them apart. "No! Get your hands off me! Carbonell!" She shrieked when her arms were magiced behind her back and bound with a rope of silver magic. "Carbonell, no! No! Don't let them take me!"
"Melantha. Melantha." He raised his voice to be heard above hers. "Be strong. They can't keep us forever."
"Carbonell." She sobbed, struggling to get to him.
"Enough of this." The guard struggling to hold on to her growled. He jabbed his wand at her throat and cast a quick Silencio. "What?" He shrugged at the other guard. "She was hurting my ears."
"Would you kindly get those two out of my court?" Pompey asked, shuffling the parchment around on his desk indifferently. "I have more business to attend to."
"Straight away, Sir." Said the guard handling Carbonell. "Come on you," he jerked on the prisoner's robes. "I have a nice dark cell waiting with your name on it."
The two were led through the side doors which closed the moment they stepped through, blocking their retreat from view.
"Now," Pompey said, bringing the focus in the room back to him. "There are a few more matters to discus." He flicked through the remaining parchment until he found what he was looking for. "First off, the child in question. According to these files," he indicated the ones in his hand with a nod, "Captain Ronald Bilius Weasley filed for custody of Blake Kinley…Weasley?" He looked up, his face wide with surprise. "Her last name is Weasley and custody was given to those two?" He shook his head with disgust. "What a mess." He was quiet for a moment as he continued to read. "I see here," he lifted the parchment closer to his face, that Triaquin Ceemist presided over that hearing." He ran his tongue over his teeth a few times. He lowered the paper to the table, his face riddled with disgust. His tongue clicked off his teeth. "What I would like to know first, is how Carbonell and Melantha Javed were allowed to leave that courtroom with that child in their possession in the first place? She went missing in less than twenty-four hours. Did no one else see the inevitability of that happening? Not only that, why did no one question the sentencing immediately? There should never have been an opportunity for that child to go missing. This is appalling. Captain Potter," Pompey's eyes focused on Harry. "You were present in the courtroom the day of the hearing, were you not?"
Harry rose to his feet. "Yes your honor." He stammered. "I was."
"Why didn't you do anything to stop them?"
"Sir?"
"Never mind. Never mind. Messy business." He grumbled, waving off the question with his hand. "I'm sure you felt bound by the law, though clearly laws were being broken right in front of you. But that's neither here nor there." He grumbled with aggravation. "Captain Potter, I understand that Jillian Oldham has been temporarily removed from her position as Captain of the Betas?"
"Yes Sir."
"Perhaps you can answer a few questions for me in her place."
Harry nodded.
"To the best of your knowledge, have the Betas gotten any closer to discovering the location of the child in question?"
"No, Sir. Not that I am aware of."
"Right. I've also been informed that you've personally gone to Hogwarts and checked the register and can say without any doubt that the child is in fact still alive?"
"Yes, Sir. I can."
"And why is it the register can't be used to locate her?"
"Sir, that book…It's been enchanted to perform the same task for well over… well, since the founders started recruiting students to attend Hogwarts. Not only that, it's a historical artifact. To tamper with the integrity of its magic and…"
"Very well, very well." He waved Harry off.
"If there were any way,"
"I'm sure you would have found it already." Pompey rubbed wearily at his face. "Right then." He dropped his hand to the desk top where he clasped it with the other hand. "This is a very strange predicament we've found ourselves in. I'm inclined to believe that there is no point in appointing guardianship to a child no one seems to know the current location of… But I've been instructed to see it done. In any case, I'm also inclined to believe that perhaps assigning guardianship, in this instance, is precisely the incentive we need for the child to be found." He arched a significant brow in Harry's direction. "I'm granting Captain Weasley's petition. Pending the child's return, I grant full custody of Blake Kinley Werasley to her father Captain Ronald Bilius Weasley. I would have liked to deliver the news to him personally…but I'll assume the reason he's not here is that he's out now, at this very moment, trying to locate her." He leaned forward in his seat, ensuring he had Harry's full attention. "You make sure to have him come in and sign the papers to make everything nice and legal as soon as he can be located."
"Yes Sir." Harry nodded, struggling to hide his satisfied smile.
"With that, Court is adjourned." Pompey wasted no time. He was on his feet and out his door before the room had a chance to react.
"Harry." Ginny clutched at his sleeve, using it as leverage to help her to her feet. "Did what I think just happen, really just happen?"
Harry turned to her, his smile growing broader. With a shout of joy he swooped down and kissed her full on the lips, stealing her breath away. "Yes, Gin. It did." He kissed her again, headless of the crowd surrounding them. He clasped her tighter, arms weaving around her and drawing her in. With a moan Ginny surrendered, leaning into the kiss, letting her mouth fall open under his.
Harry's fingers wove through her hair, holding her to him a moment longer before gently pulling away. He kissed her again, combing her hair off her face tenderly with his hands. "I have to go." He kissed her one last time before stepping back.
"What?" Ginny gapped at him in surprise. "Harry?" She grabbed onto his arm, pulling him back. "What do you mean," she lowered her voice to a hiss, "you have to go?"
"There's something I have to do."
"Harry, now isn't the time."
"Now is exactly the time." He cupped her face tenderly. "I'll see you at home, yeah?"
And he was gone.
"Harry!" she called after him futilely. "What?" She looked around puzzled. "What was that about?" she asked under her breath. She let herself get led into the isle by the crowd milling towards the door.
She could not understand where Harry had gone to. He should be with her. Now was the time to…well not celebrate, per say…"Unless…" she drifted to a stop. Unless he'd gone to find Ron and share with him the news. Ginny thought for a moment longer before nodding, satisfied. That had to be it. He was probably sending Ron an owl or tracking him down himself to tell him. He would want Ron to know right away.
Ginny bounced back into step. This might just be the good news Ron needed to lift himself up. Knowing Blake was really his might just be what he needed to find her. And once he did he wouldn't even think about giving her up. How could he? He would bring her home and everything would go back to normal. Back to the way it should have been.
The smile slid from her face. But that wasn't true. Things wouldn't go back to the way they were because even with Blake home, Ron would still be heartbroken… And so would she. Her heart was broken in the way only one best friend could break another's.
She let herself wallow for a moment before physically shaking herself. Everything would be fine. She had to believe that. Ron would get over Hermione and she, she would find herself a new best friend. Decision made, Ginny marched forward into the lift, turning and watching the golden grill close with a small amount of satisfaction.