A/N: Thank you for your continued support! I'm happy to hear most of you found the plot interesting - I'll be candid and admit that the mystery plot is sort of means to an end in a lot of ways, but I still hope that it's believable. Anyway, so here we are; one loooong chapter! Lots of plot-related things and exposition here.
By the way, I'm writing a short series of vaguely related fluffy one-shots called "Pieces of Extraordinary." It focuses around Ron, Hermione, Rose, and Hugo post-epilogue. Just if you're interested. :)
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is better than you and me.
Ron tore through the Ministry purposefully, the mysteriously threatening letter still clutched in his hand. He wondered vaguely whether it was rigged in any way, but he didn't have the time to check. The only thought in his mind as he raced through the corridors was of Hermione's safety; nothing else mattered so long as that was in jeopardy.
"Oi, thought you were off today!" Harry called from his desk as Ron finally entered the Auror Department. Ron simply strode toward him and shoved the letter into his hands by way of greeting.
"This came to the Grangers'," Ron told him shortly, his throat unnaturally dry.
"Shit," Harry said immediately, his eyes widening frantically. "But this looks like-"
"Yeah," Ron confirmed. "She took them to ours for now; something must have gone wrong with the charms. Who's supervising?"
"Price," Harry answered, standing up from his chair. "What's the chance he lets us have it?"
"No chance in hell I'm letting anyone else take it," Ron declared fiercely, and Harry nodded in agreement. Without needing to say another word to one another, they walked swiftly into the supervisor's office without announcing their presence. This earned them an annoyed look from the elder man, who had been busy rustling through a particularly large stack of paperwork, but neither of them could be arsed to care.
"This came to the home of Hermione Granger's parents," Ron said without preamble. "They've left the premises, which were supposed to be under the standard protective charms as of last summer."
Price, a portly, balding man in his mid-fifties, raised a graying eyebrow as he reached for the parchment and looked it over briefly. "Your fiancée, Weasley?"
"Yes sir," Ron affirmed. "I was there with her at the time, but the owl delivered the envelope to her father and left before either of us saw it."
Price appraised the letter once more before handing it to Harry. "We got several like this last week. Sender never followed up with another, in any case. File it away with the others, and we'll put extra protection around the house in question."
Harry frowned. "That's all we're going to do? Sir, this is a blatant threat against a Ministry employee and war hero, and it sounds a hell of a lot like it came straight from the mouth of a Death Eater."
"It's a dead end, Potter," Price dismissed, removing his eyeglasses to rub at his face wearily. "We looked into the others and nothing's come of it, and this department has other things to worry about."
"Well, I'm worried about this," Harry insisted. "It looks harmless, sir, but this is the sort of thing that started a war last time. Quite frankly, I'm going to look into this with or without approval."
Ron nodded emphatically. "We'll take it on top of our case load, sir, if you don't want to take the time."
Price sighed heavily. "And in what version of reality do you suppose I'd let you take your fiancée's case, Weasley? It's a picture of the two of you on that letter, after all."
"The threat was clearly being made toward her, and we aren't related yet," Ron said in a tone of forced calm, barely keeping his temper in check. "It doesn't break any rules."
"Not to mention I'd keep him involved anyway," Harry added. "And seeing as we're the only two that want to make the time for it-"
Price eyed them both with his customary look of annoyance, but didn't seem to have the energy to argue. "Fine. If you insist, then on your own heads be it. Tell Johnson and Parker they're stuck with you on this one. But I'm warning you, you may find it's a cold case. The threats seem to be random, and no violent acts have been committed. Protocol states we ought to drop it for the time being."
"We've never paid that much attention to protocol," Harry said coolly.
"And don't we know it," Price deadpanned. "If the two of you weren't so damn good at this, I'd have your arses hauled out of here faster than you could say 'unfair.' I'll dig out the Granger file and send someone out there to check and redo the protective charms. We'll have an officer on watch from here out as well, just as we've done with the others."
"Thank you, sir," Ron and Harry chorused, and they left while blatantly ignoring Price's mutterings, which sounded suspiciously like "boy who fucking lived" and "pains in my arse."
"I'll get the seniors if you go dig out the other files," Ron told Harry, who agreed. A few moments later, Ron had tracked down Bryce Johnson and Isaac Parker, two senior Aurors about ten years older than Harry and Ron. They were good blokes as far as Ron could tell; they had been some of the few that had managed to avoid Thicknesse's influence during the war, and had even fought on the side of the Order when they could manage it. They were talented, too; Bryce was well-respected in the department for his physical strength and endurance, and Isaac was known for his ability to think on the spot.
When he reached Bryce's desk, Ron quickly explained the case to them, and was heartened to see that they seemed to be at least a little more concerned than Price.
"But you're allowed to work on this?" Isaac asked skeptically. "You're being threatened too, I'd say."
"They only marked up Hermione's face in the picture," Ron pointed out, "and it came to her parents' house. I might be a blood traitor by Death Eater standards, but I'm still from an old family. Anyway, if it concerns Hermione then it concerns me, rules be damned."
"Fair enough. It does look suspiciously like a Death Eater's work," Bryce said as he examined the message the Grangers had received. "Your fiancée's muggle-born then?
"Yeah," Ron replied. "Most brilliant witch on the planet though, so she got a fair bit of flack in school from the pureblood-fanatic types."
"Price may be right in thinking it's just empty words, then," Isaac suggested. "Could be the remnants of a schoolyard grudge. Still, considering it's not an isolated incident, it'd be worth a bit of a look to keep people from panicking, yeah?"
"And to keep my in-laws from moving in with us," Ron shuddered, and the other two cringed in sympathy.
"Nice folks, are they?" Isaac asked.
"Her mum's alright," Ron said truthfully. "Still, neither of them is jumping up and down about the wedding in the first place."
"Least they're muggles, then," Bryce offered. "Can't curse your bollocks off, can they?"
"There's always that," Ron muttered sarcastically.
"Ron, get this!" Harry called as he made his way over to Johnson's desk, carrying three files with him. "The other victims were in our year at Hogwarts, too!"
"No kidding?" Ron asked incredulously.
"Lavender Brown, Dean Thomas, and Susan Bones," Harry replied, laying each file down on the desk in front of him.
"Well, that's something new," Bryce pointed out, running a burly arm through his dark hair. "And all the threats were along the same lines?"
"Susan's was nearly verbatim," Harry answered, pulling out a similar sheet of parchment from the file. "Says here she's engaged to a muggle, so that makes sense."
"And what about Lavender and Dean?" Ron asked, pulling Dean's file closer to him and opening it.
"Lavender seemed to be targeted because of her run-in with Greyback," Harry said. "The message she got referred to her as a 'half-breed,' so clearly whoever's behind this isn't quite in the know - she doesn't fully transform, does she?"
"Nah, she's in the same boat as Bill," Ron replied. "And Dean's mum is a muggle. It's more insults in his than a threat, but it's all the same bullshit."
"Alright, so all four victims were in your year at Hogwarts," Isaac began ticking off items on his fingers as he talked. "All four threats had to do with either the blood status or perceived purity of the victim, so all four threats could be classified as pureblood fanaticism. Where does that leave us?"
"It's got to be tied to someone else in our year," Harry said emphatically. "That can't be a coincidence."
"Anyone you went to school with got ties to the Death Eaters?" Bryce asked. "I can't imagine anyone else would have the gall to do this, to be honest."
"Try all the Slytherins," Ron muttered.
"Right, well, Crabbe's dead," Harry said dispassionately. "That leaves Malfoy, Goyle, Zabini, and Nott."
"And the girls were…Bulstrode, Parkinson…" Ron listed, searching his memories but finding that he'd done a pretty efficient job of blocking them all out.
"Greengrass was the other one," Harry finished, "and I'm fairly certain nobody else in our class ran in that crowd."
"Malfoy, Goyle, and Nott are all Death Eater names," Isaac remarked. "So's Crabbe, but you said he's dead?"
"Yeah, and so's his father," Harry said. "The whole family was dumb as bricks anyway, to be honest."
"But we ought to check Zabini and the girls, too," Ron added. "They were all in that group."
"Right, so that's seven suspects," Bryce said, writing the last names down on a scrap of parchment. "Any way we can do this without questioning all of them? No offense to the two of you, but I'd rather not spend my afternoon chatting with a load of insolent nineteen year olds."
"Believe me, we'd like to avoid them as much as possible ourselves," Harry assured him.
"There'll be wand residue on the letters," Ron suggested. "The words were all cut out from the Prophet, and I'm willing to bet they didn't stick it on with glue."
"And what's glue?" Bryce asked interestedly, but no one paid him any mind.
"Right, I'll send downstairs for their information," Isaac cut in. "If we're lucky, we'll be ID'ing someone within the hour."
-000-
"Here we are," Hermione said nervously as her parents stepped out of the fireplace and into the sitting room and kitchen area of the small flat she shared with Ron. She immediately took out her wand to reinforce the protective spells they'd set on the place; though she was fairly certain they hadn't been broken, one could never be too careful. Meanwhile, both Mum and Dad immediately collapsed on the sofa; travelling via floo powder clearly had not been pleasant for them. Hermione could sympathize, but there really hadn't been a better way to get them here quickly, and no one could apparate directly into their flat.
"That was terrible!" Dad exclaimed."You really travel that way?"
"Yes, we do," Hermione replied shortly, unwilling to let her father break her concentration as she completed the last of the spells. She couldn't help but wonder how unpleasant he might have found apparition.
"What's going on?" Mum asked, resting her head in her hands as she began to take in her surroundings.
"That owl shouldn't have been able to come to the house," Hermione explained smoothly, deciding quickly that it would be best to leave out the actual contents of the letter. "We need to make certain the protective charms are still working properly so that you'll be safe."
"Alright," Dad said reluctantly. "How long do you suppose that will take?"
"I don't know," Hermione replied. "Probably no more than a couple of hours."
"This is your flat, then?" Mum asked pleasantly, looking around again. "It's quite cozy."
"Yes, it's the best we could afford for the time being," Hermione answered, rearranging the chairs at the dining table as an excuse to avoid meeting her parents' eyes.
"We?" Dad asked suspiciously. "I thought he was still living with Harry!"
"They're getting married in two months, dear, it makes sense that they'd be living together," Mum placated immediately, while Hermione blushed - it was true she hadn't exactly told her parents she'd be living with Ron, but she had thought it was assumed.
"Right, we're back on that again," Dad sighed, leaning back into the sofa cushions.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake! We can't even mention the wedding now? Well, perhaps if you simply ignore it long enough, we'll just change our minds!" Hermione shot sarcastically.
"I just don't think you're quite ready to be married, that's all," Dad replied in a tone that clearly implied he thought he was being reasonable. "That's what I was trying to tell you earlier, if you'd just listen. And did you say for Merlin's sake?"
"I don't think it's your place to decide when I'm ready to be married," Hermione snapped.
"I'm your father!" Dad continued, raising his voice. "It's my place to raise you, which you've kindly denied me the opportunity to do for the past eight years, I'll have you recall, so excuse me for attempting to talk some sense into you before you throw your life away!"
"So marrying Ron equates to throwing my life away now?" Hermione screeched, swiveling around to face her father properly. She wondered briefly if he was trying to cross as many lines as possible in a single afternoon.
"That's not what he means," Mum said hurriedly, but it was too late.
"Oh, of course not, he's such a lovely boy!" Dad drawled sarcastically. "Barely meeting our eyes, swearing at us before he runs off to his life-threatening job in the middle of tea, playing house with our daughter! Honestly, the two of you going on and pretending like you can shag the rest of your lives away in this tiny shack and not have care in the world, it's maddening!"
"He's trying his best!" Hermione cried. "It's not his fault you treat him like he's scum! And as for today, he's only trying to keep us safe - which, mind you, is a part of his job! Furthermore, I'm not even going to dignify what you said about our lives together with a response, because you know nothing about our relationship!"
"It'd help if we'd have had the opportunity!" Dad insisted, rising from the sofa as if to use his height to reaffirm his authority. "This is absolutely ridiculous, Hermione! It's clear to me I don't know anything about you anymore, because I'd never have picked you out as one to act like this!"
"Act like what?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow dangerously as though she was daring him to say it.
"Like an ignorant child, for starters," Dad began, but Hermione quickly decided she'd had enough. Before either of them could say something they'd truly regret, she turned on her heel and stomped down the hallway to her bedroom, making sure to slam the door behind her and choosing not to acknowledge how very juvenile her retreat was.
Curling up into bed and clutching Ron's pillow to her chest, Hermione began to take deep, calming breaths. Her head was pounding and her eyes were stinging, and she felt as though she couldn't do a thing about any of it. The letter had added even more stress to an already tense situation, but it was out of her control now, and she trusted Ron and Harry were taking care of it, but her parents were another story altogether. She was so sick of having the same argument over and over again. It had been going on for the better part of three months now, and she thought it had been getting better - but then again, it had always been her mum writing the letters.
Hermione had always known her father to be blunt, but the things he'd been saying for the past year, and the past three months in particular, were simply hurtful. Though he'd never fully understood magic, he'd at least supported her throughout her years at school. But upon hearing about the war, that support had nearly disappeared, and along with it, all the trust in their relationship.
At first, Hermione had thought that he was simply upset she'd kept so much from them; when she was young, she had been exceptionally close to her parents, but they had predictably grown apart during her later years at Hogwarts. However, her efforts to reconnect with them had gone largely unacknowledged by her father, and Hermione wasn't sure what she was meant to do anymore.
A knock on the door interrupted Hermione's thoughts. "Go away, please," she moaned without thinking.
The door opened anyway. "Please, Hermione?" It was her mum's voice. Hermione rolled over to face her and nodded slightly when she saw that she was alone. Mum tentatively entered the room, closing the door behind her. "Your father doesn't mean-" she began, but Hermione wasn't having it.
"He does, though, or else he wouldn't have said it," Hermione sighed, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "What else can I do, Mum?"
"Hermione…"
"I've tried," Hermione whispered helplessly. "I've tried so hard to fix it, but it always ends up like this! Why-" she broke off to give a great sniff and wipe the tears off her face. "Why aren't the two of you happy for me?" she managed to choke out before she buried her face in her pillow, not wanting to see her mum's reaction.
"Oh, Hermione." She felt the bed sink next to her, and a comforting hand gently touched her shoulder. She tensed at first, but soon relaxed, because in reality, she knew she wanted nothing more than her mother's support.
"I'm so happy," Hermione sobbed. "Or at least, I want to be, but I can't, not when things are like this! Can't you see?"
"I am happy for you, Hermione," Mum said soothingly. "I'm so happy that you've got somebody that loves you like Ron does, and that you're enjoying your work. Your father is too, you know-"
"Don't lie," Hermione choked softly. "He's made it quite clear how he feels about everything."
"He's only concerned for you," Mum explained. "Imagine if you were in his position, dear."
"I've been trying!" Hermione snapped shrilly, bringing the pillow away from her face to meet her Mum's worried eyes. "All I've been doing for the past year is trying! And things were getting better, too, but the moment I come home with the happiest news of my life, this happens!"
"Because it was unexpected," Mum reasoned. "He only wants to make sure you know what you're doing."
"Right, and is he doing that by telling me it's all a mistake, or by insinuating that I'm throwing my life away?" Hermione retorted.
"I'm not saying he's being tactful about it," Mum admitted, "but you know I've had some of the same concerns he's had."
"Yet you manage not to insult myself and my fiancé every time you open your mouth," Hermione pointed out, sitting up and leaning into Mum, who tentatively wrapped an arm about her shoulders, a gesture that temporarily made Hermione's heart soar.
"It's because I know you're a smart girl," Mum told her gently. "But you're also young, and very much in love. It's our job, dear, to make sure that those things aren't clouding your reason."
"Ron's not just some boy, Mum," Hermione explained, well aware that desperation was seeping through her voice with every word. "He's been my best friend since I was twelve! You've always known how I felt about him."
"I'm not denying that he's the one," Mum said gently. "It's clear the two of you have something special. I simply don't want to see it ruined because you rushed into things you may not have been ready for."
"I was worried about that," Hermione confessed, "but it doesn't feel like we're rushing in the least."
"Not at all?" Mum asked, offering Hermione a tissue from the box on the bedside table.
"No," Hermione said, taking the tissue gratefully and blowing her nose. "It's just us, Mum. Everything we do together feels right. And we do understand what getting married means, we know it's not going to be sunshine and rainbows all the time. It never has been, but we've got through it together."
Mum nodded knowingly. "Of course, dear. But keep in mind that neither your father nor I knew your relationship was so serious until you came home with a ring on your finger."
"I understand that, I do, but what was I supposed to do differently? Just because I'd never discussed my relationship with Ron at length with the two of you didn't mean it wasn't happening, it's just that the three of us had other things to discuss!" Hermione said, waving her hands about as if to make a point.
"We only needed some time to process it, and an opportunity to get to know Ron a bit better," Mum explained kindly.
"Well, you've had time, but clearly bringing Ron around didn't help matters any!" Hermione exclaimed, gesturing toward the door in reference to her father. She realized vaguely that he could probably hear most of what they were saying from the sitting room, but she found she didn't care one bit.
"Hermione, you know it's always taken your father a little longer to come round to someone else's point of view," Mum scolded. "I know he's not making it easy, and I've talked to him about it, but you have to understand that he cares about you."
"I can't keep having this same argument, Mum," Hermione said quietly. "I can't speak to Dad if he's going to be like this. It always ends the same way."
Mum sighed heavily and squeezed her shoulders in reassurance. "Why don't we give it a week or so and try again?"
"Because I don't think anything will have changed," Hermione murmured, but Mum decided to pretend not to hear her.
"I'll speak with him about it," she said firmly. "He'll come around, dear, because the bottom line is that he loves you. But remember, shutting him out won't make things any easier."
"I know," Hermione sighed. "I'm willing to keep trying, Mum, but only so long as he is."
"Alright, that's fair," Mum agreed. "Now, why don't you tell me why Ron's face turned as white as a ghost when he read that letter?"
"I told you," Hermione explained, setting her face stoically. "An owl not associated with the Ministry, Ron, or myself shouldn't have been able to find the house because of the protective enchantments we had set up around it."
"But that's not all," Mum pushed. "Who was it from?"
"We don't know," Hermione answered curtly, abruptly standing up and making her way across the room to her bookshelf. "That's what Ron's gone to find out. In the mean time, we've got to stay here. Look, I've got plenty of books lying around; why don't we all just read for awhile? I don't think any of us particularly wants to talk any more today."
"What did it say, Hermione?" Mum asked in a no-nonsense tone, unmoving from her spot on the bed.
"Nothing!" Hermione snapped. "It doesn't matter. Please, Mum, let's just read for awhile."
Mum gazed at her unblinkingly for a moment before giving in and nodding slowly. "Okay. But Hermione?"
"Yes?" she asked, turning away to choose out three books from her shelf and taking care to ensure that none of them had anything to do with weddings.
"I still have those ideas from my albums," Mum began tentatively, standing at last and approaching her slowly, a hopeful expression on her face. "I could show you anytime you like. I know things haven't been quite right between us for some time, but you're my daughter, Hermione, and if it's alright with you, I want to help you plan your wedding."
It was all Hermione could do not to burst into tears again. "I would love that, Mum," she said softly, dropping the heavy books she'd chosen on the floor and flinging herself into her mother's arms. "I've missed you so much," she whispered, blinking her eyes rapidly against the wetness pooling there.
"I've missed you, too," Mum murmured in return, rubbing her back soothingly. "I hope we can grow to be as close as we used to be, dear."
"I hope so, too," Hermione agreed, pulling back and wiping her eyes once more before bending to pick up the books. "You know, Ron's meant to be working late on Wednesday. We could go out to dinner, if you'd like?" She couldn't help but feel hope spreading through her very being; she couldn't possibly articulate what it meant that at least one of her parents was still willing to make an effort for her.
"That'd be wonderful," Mum said, smiling widely. "Now, which of these lovely volumes is mine?"
-000-
Testing for wand residue was a tricky process that involved multiple complicated charms and one rare potion. Ron had only done it a couple of times, but luckily Bryce and Ian were seasoned veterans. Once they had the registered wand information of each of the suspects, they could check for any traces of magic left on the pieces of parchment and cross-reference it with the estimated patterns of magic associated with the known wands. The traces and the patterns could be represented through a series of Runes, which made Ron think of Hermione every time he had to try to interpret them.
It wasn't a foolproof method, of course; it only worked if each person was actually using their registered wand, and even then the science was inexact. Still, even if it wouldn't hold up as grounds for arrest, it would be enough to send them in the right direction. Even better, this way they were able to confirm that each of the threats had been manipulated using the same wand.
"I've never liked doing this," Bryce remarked as they finished transferring the final pattern evaluation to parchment. "These damn things are so hard to read. Makes me wish I'd have taken Runes in school."
"It wouldn't do much good anyway," Isaac said matter-of-factly. "You don't need to know what they mean to compare the patterns. Here we are, anyway. See anything?"
Ron frowned at the funny looking symbols as he attempted to look for any differences or similarities at all among the eight sets of patterns in front of them. "Well, Goyle's looks nothing like any of the others, so I s'pose it wasn't his."
"Perhaps because he's more a gorilla than a man," Harry quipped. "I'd have been surprised if he'd been able to orchestrate all this."
"Still doesn't rule him out as an accomplice, does it?" Isaac pointed out. "You're right though, no sense leaving his in the mix for now. Zabini's is out for the time being too; see how much more collected his traces tend to be than what was left on the parchment? Same goes for Bulstrode's."
"Malfoy's looks pretty similar," Harry remarked, pushing his glasses up his nose as he held one of the patterns up to the original. "But now that I think of it, I don't suppose his suspension is over."
"It's not," Ron confirmed, casting his mind back to the Malfoy family's trial. He, Harry, and Hermione had all been called to testify because of their experiences at the Manor. They had agreed on the condition that their testimony remain private and anonymous to all those not directly affected by the case, something that had suited everyone just fine. Those prosecuting hadn't wanted to draw out the process, and the Malfoys didn't want their name being dragged through the mud any more than it already was.
In the end, they'd managed to wiggle their way out of Azkaban once again, likely due in part to Harry's insistence that he wouldn't be alive but for Narcissa's help, but they had been placed under house arrest for a year and banned from using magic for another three. Their wands were currently Ministry property and would be for quite some time yet. As much as Ron would have liked to slam the bastards with something else, it was highly unlikely that they had a direct hand in this particular crime.
"Right, well, that leaves Nott, Parkinson, and Greengrass," Bryce listed. "They all look fairly similar to me, to be honest, but Parkinson's is the only one with that particular cluster in the center, innit?"
"You're right," Isaac confirmed. "I'd say that's our best bet."
"That makes sense," Ron added fiercely. "She was fucking nasty to Hermione in school. Hated anyone that wasn't Malfoy, actually."
"But do you really think she'd be capable of all this? She wasn't the brightest," Harry pointed out. "There's no way she was acting alone."
"We can worry about that later," Isaac dismissed. "We've got enough to bring her in for questioning. I vote we do that now. I'm supposed to be off tomorrow, and I don't much fancy coming in if I can help it."
"Agreed," Bryce said. "This is the only solid lead we've got, and the rest can wait til Monday."
Though Ron personally wasn't sure he'd be able to sleep properly til the threat was removed, he agreed. The thought that all the victims would be under extra protection from the department kept him relatively calm. Bryce volunteered to collect Parkinson for questioning, and the others made their way down to the interrogation rooms.
"We'll use the nicer one. She'll be more likely to talk," Isaac remarked, leading them into the room that felt the least like a dungeon. Though it still reminded Ron unpleasantly of his Potions lessons, this room was a bit warmer than the others and even had a small, artificial window. The table and chairs were wood instead of stone, which was an upgrade as well. "By the way, Weasley, it'd be best if you take a bit of a backseat on this one, given the circumstances," he added.
"I can try," Ron said reluctantly.
Harry snorted. "He's right, mate. You've been known to get a bit heated when it concerns Hermione."
"Don't laugh," Ron rebuked. "Imagine if it was Ginny."
Harry sobered immediately. "I know. And look, you know Hermione's like my sister. I'll probably have a tough time keeping my cool, too."
"Let Bryce and I do the talking," Isaac told them sternly. "It'll be for the best. Neither of you has had much interrogation experience anyway."
"What approach do you reckon you'll go with?" Ron asked curiously.
"Not too accusatory yet," Isaac replied. "It'll be obvious if she knows something, and then we can start monitoring her as a person of interest. Who knows, maybe we'll get lucky and she'll let something slip."
"Unlikely," Harry said darkly. "I said she wasn't bright, but she was never stupid. She dated Malfoy, for Merlin's sake."
"Funny, I'd think that would make her stupid," Ron quipped. "But y'know mate, maybe it's him behind all of this? He might've just used her wand since we've got his."
Harry shook his head briefly. "I don't even know if they're seeing each other anymore. Besides, I don't think he'd try to pull something like this, given the circumstances."
Ron nodded curtly, then shook his head as if to shake out any remaining bias. He'd need to be focused for what came next, not caught up in schoolyard grudges.
Just a few minutes later, Bryce reappeared, escorting a disgruntled-looking Pansy Parkinson, whose expression grew only more sour the moment she saw Harry and Ron.
"Is there any particular reason I've been dragged from my home this afternoon?" she asked scathingly as she sat down. "I suppose it's got something to do with the two of you, then?"
"Actually," Isaac cut in before Harry or Ron could answer, "it's got more to do with you. It's only a happy coincidence Potter and Weasley have been put on this case."
"Miss Parkinson," Bryce continued. "We've only got a few questions for you, and you can be on your way. This will be less painful for all of us if you simply cooperate. As I explained to you earlier, we aren't charging you with anything at this time."
"But you will be at another time?" Pansy guessed disdainfully. "Tell me, then, what is it I'm meant to have done?"
"Miss Parkinson, you were scheduled to have graduated from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the spring of 1998, is that correct?" Isaac asked, blatantly ignoring her question.
"Yes, but you know that," Pansy said, rolling her eyes. "I was in the same year as the Chosen Boy and his Weasel, as I'm sure they've told you."
"And do you keep in contact with any of your classmates?" Bryce asked curtly.
Ron noted Pansy almost imperceptibly tense up a bit at his question, but it lasted only a fraction of a second before she answered: "I was close with the other girls in my house, but we haven't been in regular contact since we've started working."
"Any contact with classmates not in your house?" Isaac continued, eyeing her intensely.
"No," Pansy said, though Ron noted that she answered perhaps a little too quickly. "Why would I want to? I never talked to any of them in school."
"Then would you care to explain to us why we were able to link your wand to several letters sent out to your classmates this last week?" Bryce asked, the first hint of accusation entering his voice.
"I don't know," Pansy retorted insolently. "Why does it matter?"
"I think you know why it matters," Isaac said quietly. "Why don't you tell us?"
Pansy hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering, "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Are you sure about that?" Isaac continued, looking straight at her as though daring her to break eye contact.
After another moment's worth of hesitation, she answered coolly, "Yes, I'm sure. You can't arrest someone with that wand tracking crap anyway, and knowing these two you've probably done it wrong. Now, if we're quite done here, I was trying to cook dinner for my aging mother when you so kindly interrupted my evening."
"We can't arrest you," Bryce acknowledged, "but I'm obliged to inform you that we have the right to track your post on these grounds."
"That's an invasion of my privacy!" Pansy accused, but she was shut down almost immediately.
"If you knew our protocol as well as you seem to think you do, you'd know that we won't be reading any of your letters," Isaac said calmly.
"We'll simply be able to track where they're going," Bryce finished cheerfully. He then nodded once to Isaac, who promptly stood up and opened the door.
"Thank you for your time, Miss Parkinson. If you'll follow me, I'll show you out." Pansy stood and hastily followed Isaac, who shut the door behind him.
"She clearly knew something," Ron said fiercely the moment he was alone with Harry and Bryce. "Are you sure that's all we could have asked her?"
"We weren't gonna get anything out of her," Bryce dismissed. "All we can do at this point is track where her owls are going anyway. You're right, though; I think she knows something, and that's why we'll be watching her."
"She might have let up if we'd kept at it," Harry tried to say, but Bryce disagreed.
"There's a reason you're not leading interrogations yet," he said knowingly. "She was a bit scared, yeah, but she wasn't the type that was going to break within an hour. Still, I bet we shook her up a bit, and she can't send out any more threats if we're watching her post."
"But what if she's not the one sending it? Or what if she acts on it?" Ron insisted.
"We've got the victims under our protection," Bryce replied, standing up and ushering the younger two out of the room. "And your girl will have double that, Weasley, considering you'll be there too."
"It's still frustrating as all hell," Ron complained.
"Training's over, boys. Welcome to the real Auror Department," Bryce deadpanned.
Once they'd reached the office again, Isaac was already waiting at the desk, writing out some notes on his parchment. "We've got the protection details set up for both Ms. Granger and her parents, and Parkinson's post is under our watch," he greeted them. "I don't know what else we can do tonight."
"Not a lot," Bryce confirmed. "Let's call it for the night, yeah? I've got a short shift tomorrow, and I'll try to sort through it a bit. The rest of you ought to relax a couple days. We can talk to the victims on Monday and look for any more connections then."
They all agreed to this plan, Harry and Ron more reluctantly than the others. After making a few closing notes, Isaac and Bryce left to inform Price that the investigation was, in fact, making some form of progress, while Harry and Ron gathered their things and made their way to the fireplaces in the lobby to floo home.
"At least they'll all have protection on them, yeah?" Harry said half-heartedly as they entered the lift.
"I guess," Ron replied. "I don't like this at all."
"Neither do I," Harry agreed. "You were at Hermione's parents' place before this all happened, though? How'd that go?"
Ron snorted. "Terrible. Her dad's still hell-bent on getting us to call off the wedding. They got in another argument while we were there."
"As bad as the first one?" Harry asked.
"Reckon so. We'd kind of hoped he'd have come around by now," Ron sighed. "Her mum's a bit better, but I can tell she isn't exactly thrilled either."
"Anything I can do?" Harry asked apologetically.
"Nah, best man duties don't normally include appeasing the in-laws," Ron said dejectedly. "Afraid that's on me, innit?"
"They'll come around," Harry assured him as the lift stopped and they exited at the main level. "It's a bit fast, yeah, but it's you and Hermione."
"That's the problem though," Ron explained. "You know it's me and Hermione. They barely know her as anybody other than a clever twelve-year-old with books for best friends, and to them I'm just the ugly, tall bloke that's shagging their daughter."
Harry pulled a face at this. "Well, you aren't the prettiest. Maybe they just don't want trolls for grandchildren. Ouch!" he shouted as Ron whacked him upside the head. "Look, Ron, it'll work out."
"I know it will," Ron replied. "Like you said, it's me and Hermione. I just want it to be perfect for her, you know?"
"Yeah," Harry acknowledged, stopping as they came to two empty fireplaces. "I'll see the two of you at the Burrow tomorrow?"
"Wouldn't miss it," Ron replied.
-000-
Hermione's eyes glazed over as she read the same sentence about the history of goblins' rights for the third time. Her attempts at distracting herself and her parents with books had only been partially successful. They weren't arguing anymore, but it was painfully obvious that no one was really paying attention to what they were reading. Instead, the Grangers were sitting in an uncomfortable silence, refusing to meet each other's eyes. It was nearly eight o'clock when a welcome distraction finally came in the form of a lanky ginger stepping out of the fireplace holding two pizza boxes.
"I've brought dinner," Ron greeted them with a half-hearted smile. Hermione immediately leaped out of her chair and scurried to his side. He immediately set the boxes down on the table and gathered her in his arms. As she leaned into him, Hermione felt herself begin to truly relax for the first time since they'd left for her parents' house that morning.
However, her relaxation was short-lived; after a few seconds, Dad cleared his throat meaningfully from his spot on his sofa. "Are we allowed home, then?" he asked grumpily.
"Yeah," Ron replied, still holding Hermione in a comforting embrace. "They've redone the protective charms, and our department will be keeping post in your neighborhood to make sure it doesn't happen again."
"So your people will be watching us?" Dad scowled.
"It's just a safety precaution, Dad," Hermione pleaded, disentangling herself from Ron for the time being and turning to face her parents; her father still looked a bit upset, and her mother looked simply exhausted. "Would you like me to take you home now, or do you want to stay and eat with us?"
"We'll be going," Dad said immediately. "We can take a cab, too; I don't like your fireplace rubbish."
"Right," Hermione muttered. "Well, have a safe trip."
"I'll see you soon, dear," Mum said, walking over and kissing the top of her head before following her husband, who was already halfway out the door.
"Good night," Dad said abruptly, and a moment later they were gone.
Hermione felt herself deflate immediately after the door closed, and she sank back into Ron's arms again. "Rough afternoon?" he asked softly.
"We argued a bit," Hermione answered sadly. "It doesn't matter, though, what happened at the office?"
As they sat down and set to work on the first pizza, Ron explained everything that had happened in detail, pausing every so often to answer one of her many questions.
"So anyway," Ron finished nearly an hour later as he finished off his fifth slice, "I think we're going to talk to the victims on Monday and go from there. That includes you, though that shouldn't take long since I know just as much as you do."
"You're pretty sure it's her, then?" Hermione asked, feeling dislike for Pansy Parkinson course through her veins for the first time in well over a year. She had endured teasing from the other girl for years at school, but she hadn't really believed it would ever come to something like this.
"She knew something, at the very least," Ron said. "We haven't ruled out the others, of course, and we'll probably end up questioning some of them, depending on what we learn on Monday. It'd be easier if there were a way to definitively identify whose magic it was on that parchment, but this is all we've got."
"Well, she won't be able to try anything with the Ministry watching her," Hermione reasoned. "But are you sure it's someone from our year? It just seems a bit much, doesn't it?"
"Maybe, but who else would have ties to all four of the victims?" Ron pointed out. "And anyway, the only confirmed Death Eaters that aren't dead or in Azkaban are the Malfoys, and they haven't got the means to do anything unless it's through other people."
"They wouldn't dare try anything," Hermione said automatically. "Not when they're under as much surveillance as they are."
"That's what Harry said," Ron replied with a sigh. "You're probably right. But yeah, there's always the possibility that she's working for somebody else, so that's just another thing we've got to figure out."
Hermione nodded and tiredly rubbed her eyes. "Fantastic time for all of this to come up, isn't it?"
Ron snorted humorlessly. "Yeah, we just didn't have enough going on, did we?"
Hermione sighed heavily and offered him a half-hearted grin. "Well, a little good came out of today. I'm having dinner with my mum on Wednesday."
"That's great!" Ron said automatically with an encouraging smile. "So she's really coming around, then?"
"I think so," Hermione replied thoughtfully as she began to clear the table and pack away the leftover pizza. "She wants to help me plan the wedding."
"Brilliant," Ron enthused.
"Yes, now she's just got to convince my dad that I'm not throwing my life away," Hermione sighed. "He seems to be under the impression that our plan is to simply get married and shag for the rest of our lives."
"As much as I'd enjoy that, we've got other things to deal with," Ron laughed, but his contented expression lasted only a moment before the first part of her statement registered. "He didn't seriously say you were throwing your life away, did he?"
"He did," Hermione confirmed quietly, putting the last of the pizza in the muggle refrigerator she had convinced Ron they needed for the flat. After closing the door, she stood there for a moment, not wanting to look at Ron's reaction. She soon found she didn't need to worry, however; after only a minute, she felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her from behind.
"You don't feel that way, do you?" Ron murmured into her ear. Hermione could just detect the underlying insecurity in his voice.
"Not at all," Hermione said sincerely, gripping his arms tightly with her hands, which looked infinitesimally small against his large body. "I want to start our life, Ron, and that'll never be a waste."
Ron pressed a kiss to her shoulder then and squeezed her once, gently. "You'd never let an idiot like me hold you back, anyway."
Frowning, Hermione spun around in his arms so she could look at him properly. "Stop that."
"Stop what?" he furrowed his brow.
"Belittling yourself," she scolded. "You could never hold me back, Ron."
"No, you're too good for that," he said, but she shook her head.
"Please don't. It's the opposite, you must know that. I'm a better version of myself for being with you," she told him earnestly, bringing her hands up to cup his face and ensure that he was looking into her eyes. She could tell that he didn't quite believe what she was saying, so she took care not to look away and was heartened to see that he didn't, either.
"And I'm better when I'm with you," he said quietly after a moment.
Hermione smiled. "See, that's why," she sighed contentedly, rubbing the small amount of stubble on his face with her thumbs.
"What's why?" he asked distractedly.
"It's why I know we're meant to be doing this," she clarified, guiding his face down to hers and leaving a lingering kiss on his lips. "That's why my dad's wrong about us."
"Hey," Ron said sincerely, meeting her eyes once more. "He'll come around."
"I hope so," Hermione replied with another sigh. "Can we call it a night? This day has been miserable at best."
"Course," Ron said gently. "Let's sleep it off, and we'll have a nice brunch at the Burrow tomorrow, yeah?"
Ten minutes later, Ron climbed into bed just after Hermione and shut the lights off with his Deluminator as he did every night. Then, he leaned over her to place it on the bedside table and dropped a quick kiss to her lips before settling in behind her, his chest to her back. She sighed contentedly and settled into his embrace, determined to let the worries of the day slide away for a few hours.
Before she let herself fall asleep, Hermione brought the hand Ron had wrapped around her waist up to her mouth and kissed it softly. "I love you," she whispered into the darkness as she allowed his hand to return to its proper place.
"I love you, too," he mumbled in return, and Hermione smiled as she felt his lips brush clumsily against the side of her head. Encouraged by this simple, intimate action, she allowed herself to settle into a state of complete calm for the first time all day. Her last thought before she finally drifted off to sleep a few minutes later was not of fights with her father or of threatening letters from no one, but instead, of how lucky she was to have the love of her life lying beside her, holding her as they allowed themselves to dream.
A/N: Okay, so a lot happened here. I would like to point out that I honestly know nothing about police work or the legal system apart from what I've seen on television. I'm hoping that I can blame any weird inaccuracies on the fact that this is the wizarding system and not the muggle system, but please do let me know if something is wildly out of place. Also, as far as I know, the wand residue thing is of my own creation - admittedly to make it a bit easier on the characters and move the plot along. Hopefully it made some sense! :)
The next chapter will be a bit shorter than this, I assure you. It will also be less angsty than this one was. :) Thank you!