A/N: Thank you for continuing to read this plot-attempt monstrosity. There is a bit more fluff in this chapter than in the last few, though there will be plenty of mystery development as well. Hope you all enjoy!
By the way - just as an FYI for those that read my work in general - Pieces of Extraordinary was meant to have an update this week, but real life has gotten in the way a bit. However, a new chapter is in the works! Also, this story may see an outtake soon - it depends on whether I can fit everything into the next chapter or not. :)
Disclaimer: I am clearly not J.K. Rowling.
The rest of the first week after the incident at the Grangers' house passed with little to no consequence. Bryce's questioning of the secondary witnesses hadn't uncovered any new leads (though Hermione had learned via her mother that her father had been a bit unnerved by the Ministry's house call), and the group could do nothing about the case until the requests to question Malfoy and Greengrass went through. The longer they had to wait, the more determined Ron was to change the system as soon as he could - or force Harry to do so. Still, he trudged through a week of being on duty while the requests were processed with little complaint, knowing that the fact he was working on the case at all was really a bit of a miracle and therefore choosing to leave his frustrations unvoiced to anyone that wasn't Harry or Hermione.
Hermione, for her part, seemed to be having a good week. She'd come home just a little after him on Wednesday night with a huge grin on her face after what she'd described as a "wonderful" dinner with her mother.
"She's really on our side about this, Ron," she'd beamed as they sat together on the sofa that night. "It's still hard, you know, since she and I have been so distant these past few years, but she's happy for us, she really is!"
"Good," Ron had said, pecking her affectionately on the cheek. "Think she'll be able to talk your dad around?"
"I think so," Hermione had replied carefully, furrowing her brow in thought. "I was finally able to explain it all and make her see that the engagement wasn't completely out of the blue - it's a bit easier without my dad's shouting every few minutes, you see - and I told her about how we're waiting to have kids so we can establish ourselves and all that, and I think that really calmed her down, to be honest. Maybe it'll do the same for him."
"What, they thought we were going to start popping them out the second we got hitched?" Ron had asked, alarmed. Having children was something he'd always wanted to do, and having children with Hermione sounded like a brilliant idea - in five years' time, perhaps.
"Popping them out?" Hermione had retorted with a raised eyebrow. "Perhaps no one ever took the liberty of explaining to you how child birth works, Ron-"
Thoroughly disenchanted with the conversation at that point, Ron distracted her by planting his lips on hers, and the discussion was forgotten for the time being.
After the successful dinner with her mum, Hermione had scheduled a bit of a "girl's day out," as she called it, on Sunday, and he was instructed to stay away for the majority of the afternoon. "It's very likely that I'll be choosing out my wedding gown, Ron," she'd told him matter-of-factly, "and you can't see it until the ceremony."
Ron had tried to point out that she hadn't been planning to keep the gown in their flat anyway, and that she hated superstitions in the first place, but Hermione had insisted. Recalling the simple advice Bill had given him about wedding-related things a few months earlier ("Just don't question her, Ron. It's for your own good."), Ron had dropped the subject and instead picked up an extra shift to keep himself occupied. He hadn't been looking forward to a Sunday on duty in the least, as this was generally when the mundane and stupid criminals showed their ugly faces, but he'd got a stroke of luck the day before - the request to interview Malfoy had gone through. Finally, after a week of frustration, they'd be doing something about the case that had been haunting Ron since the moment that envelope had appeared at the Grangers'.
Ron arrived in the office at just gone one, and Harry was already there making notes for their questioning. "Eager, are we?" Ron teased him as he entered and shuffled the large amount of unorganized parchment on his desk about.
"My girlfriend's out with your fiancée," Harry replied in a bored voice, "and nobody was at the Burrow this morning. Anyway, I think I've got a list ready, and Draco's coming in at two."
"Mummy and Daddy accompanying him?" Ron asked with obvious distaste.
"Dunno," Harry said. "Probably not; we only listed Draco as a person of interest. I still don't think he did it, anyway, I'm just hoping this gets us somewhere."
"Cheers," Ron sighed heavily, sitting down in his desk chair and spinning around lazily. "The sooner we've got whoever's done this, the better."
"Right, and before they get a mind to act on it," Harry added.
"Do you think they would?" Ron asked seriously. The thought had been plaguing him all week, and he wasn't sure whether it stemmed from paranoia or legitimate concern.
"I hope not," Harry said honestly. "But it's hard to know, isn't it? I have a hard time believing a group of Slytherins our age would have the bollocks to do anything."
"But if they're working for someone else…" Ron began tentatively.
"Then we'll have a real problem," Harry finished with a nod.
Ron rubbed his eyes wearily. "And here I was thinking I had enough to be getting on with."
"With the wedding and all, you mean?" Harry asked.
"Yeah." Ron swiveled his chair around again, subconsciously avoiding meeting Harry's eyes as he spoke. "It's not that it's stressful, to be honest. We're not going for anything elaborate, you know, so the planning hasn't been too bad, and my mum's apparently had the whole thing in the works since we were about twelve anyway. Still, we're getting married, you know?"
"It's sort of a big deal, now you mention it," Harry remarked slyly. "Not wanting to back out now, are you?" Though he was joking, Ron could sense the legitimate concern behind his tone.
"Never," Ron said firmly, the reply leaving his lips automatically. "Still, it's hard to wrap my head around sometimes."
"I bet," Harry laughed. "It's still hard to believe we're real people sometimes. Properly normal, grown-up adults, I mean."
Ron snorted. "Well, we're doing a decent job pretending, anyway."
"Right," Harry agreed with a laugh. "Speaking of maturity, by the way, we're planning your stag night for the Saturday after next."
"Who's we?" Ron asked warily.
"Just your brothers, maybe Neville," Harry replied. "Not a big to-do, just a night at the pub."
"Drinks on you," Ron quipped, and Harry laughed. They spent the next half hour doing very little but chatting, and Ron was incredibly glad for it. He hadn't spent much time with Harry lately, between wedding planning and working, and it felt good to simply joke around with his best mate for once.
Their carefree hour was cut a bit short, though, in the form of an aggravated Bryce. "That Malfoy shit's here," he greeted them as he approached their corner of the office. "You lot are allowed to ask questions this time, and it's probably for the best. Isaac's taken him downstairs because I'd have probably beat him to a pulp before we got to the room. Arrogant, isn't he?"
"You don't know the half of it," Harry said with a grimace.
A few minutes later, Ron found himself exactly where he'd hoped he'd never be again: face to face with Draco Malfoy. If he hadn't known what Bryce had meant just moments before, he would have done the minute he saw the sneer on Malfoy's face. It had been nearly a year since Ron had last seen it, and he was not surprised to find that he hadn't missed it one bit.
"Potter, Weasley," Malfoy said coolly as they entered the room. "Nice little class reunion we're having, isn't it?"
"Actually, that is why you're here, Mr. Malfoy," Isaac cut in composedly, the look on his face clearly showing that he would not be tolerating any bullshit, for which Ron was exceedingly thankful. "Several of your classmates have found themselves in a bit of a tough situation."
"My condolences," Malfoy replied in a bored voice. "May I ask what it has to do with me?"
"Mr. Malfoy, have you been in contact with any of your classmates from the class of 1998 since you left Hogwarts?" Bryce asked, fixing the younger boy with a no-nonsense look similar to his partner's.
Malfoy frowned. "I'm on house arrest for another ten days, as these two well know," he said disdainfully, gesturing toward Harry and Ron. "I haven't exactly been keeping up a social calendar."
"You didn't answer my question," Bryce continued coolly. "You haven't been barred from receiving visitors, nor have you been forbidden from keeping correspondence. So, have you been in contact with any of your classmates?"
"No," Malfoy replied curtly. "I've scarcely seen anyone I went to school with, let alone kept in close contact."
"Scarcely?" Ron cut in immediately, looking toward Isaac for confirmation. Upon receiving a nod, he fixed Malfoy with a glare. "Any exceptions, then?"
"I've seen a few in passing," Malfoy said carefully, "but like I said, I haven't been keeping in contact."
"Alright," Isaac accepted. "Moving on, then. Several of your classmates have received threatening letters in their post recently, and two of them were known prisoners in your home last spring."
"So?" Malfoy shot defensively. "If you honestly think I've got any idea what you're talking about, the Ministry ought to look into who they're letting-"
"No one's accusing you of anything, Mr. Malfoy," Bryce simpered mockingly, and Ron caught Harry's eye, barely suppressing a grin. "We're simply covering our bases. We have reason to believe this activity may be tied to the movement known as the Death Eaters, which we all know you were a part of."
"We were hoping you could give us some direction," Harry added, meeting Malfoy's eye confidently. Ron couldn't help but enjoy the way Malfoy twitched in his seat under Harry's gaze.
"I haven't got a clue what you're on about, but I can try," Malfoy replied slowly, his eyes darting around to each of the Aurors in the room. It was Ron who took the initiative to speak next.
"When was the last time you spoke to Pansy Parkinson?" Ron asked, keeping his voice as calm as possible.
"I don't know," Malfoy replied, furrowing his brow in what appeared to be legitimate confusion. "We lost touch after our sixth year."
"You're not in any sort of relationship with her, then?" Isaac confirmed.
"Like I said, it's been years," Malfoy repeated. "Is there any sort of meaning in this?"
"Did Parkinson have any other connections to the Death Eaters?" Bryce interrogated.
Malfoy let out a disdainful laugh. "Pansy? No way. She's a coward if I ever knew one."
"Interesting," Harry said coolly, and Ron once again took pleasure in watching Malfoy deflate a bit.
"Who did Parkinson spend time with in school?" Isaac continued.
"Erm…all of us in Slytherin, I suppose. She was good friends with the other girls, Bulstrode and Greengrass. She spent time with myself and the others, obviously, but I doubt she's kept in touch with them," Malfoy replied, apparently more intrigued by the line of questioning than annoyed at this point.
"Did either Bulstrode or Greengrass have ties to the Death Eaters?" Isaac asked, reaching for a self-inking quill and jotting something down on the case file.
"Not directly," Malfoy said vaguely.
"Answer the question," Bryce growled.
"Well, Greengrass had an uncle," Malfoy admitted, "but he wasn't close to the family, and he died the year before it ended."
"And you're sure you haven't had any contact with any of these classmates since we left Hogwarts?" Harry pressed.
Malfoy sighed heavily, shifting his eyes around the room again. "I've seen Greengrass a few times," he began slowly. "I've begun a bit of an …acquaintance with her sister."
"The one who stayed at St. Mungo's for dragon pox last year?" Ron asked excitedly. Malfoy shot him a look of contempt.
"Yes, that's Astoria," he said coolly.
"Malfoy, has Astoria been acting strangely at all lately?" Harry asked, clearly catching on to Ron's train of thought.
"No," Malfoy replied firmly. "She's barely out of Hogwarts, you know. She hasn't got anything to do with whatever ludicrous scheme you're investigating. She's nothing like her uncle, or her sister-"
"How is she different from her sister?" Bryce cut in.
"She's less of a downright bitch, for starters," Malfoy began with a snarl. "And she stayed out of the war completely, so whatever is happening, it's not her."
"But her sister, Daphne," Harry insisted. "She didn't stay out of the war?"
Malfoy sighed heavily before he continued. "She wasn't a Death Eater, if that's what you're asking."
"That's not entirely what I'm asking," Harry retorted.
"Fine. She was sympathetic. So was Bulstrode, so was Pansy, so was I," Malfoy spat. "That's all I know."
"Okay," Isaac said simply. "You can go, Mr. Malfoy. Follow me, I'll let you out."
Ron, for his part, thought he could have asked Malfoy several dozen more questions, but he accepted Isaac's seniority and hung back. "Greengrass, then?" he asked Harry and Bryce as they gathered their papers.
"Sounds like it," Harry said. "We know Malfoy's a shit liar, and I think he's honestly told us what he knows."
"For once," Ron grumbled. "Interesting how things change when he hasn't got a wand."
"At any rate, the Greengrass request will probably have gone through by now," Bryce remarked. "I think we ought to be making a house call yet tonight, boys."
-000 -
"Is there any reason we've taken Hermione to the shop with the ugliest wedding dresses in existence?" Hermione heard Ginny mutter in an undertone to Mrs. Weasley as she returned to the dressing room wearing yet another monstrosity of white lace.
"Because it's the only one that's open on a Sunday afternoon! Mind your manners, Ginny," Mrs. Weasley hissed back, though Hermione could hear the sound of her mum's muffled laughter.
Hermione didn't blame Ginny in the least; every dress she had tried on so far had been horrible. The first had been too puffy, the second had looked as though it had come straight from the mid-nineteenth century, the third had been entirely too tight and revealing, and the one she'd just finished modeling had been cut in a way that made her look as though she was either pregnant or carrying a Quaffle under her gown. The experience was frustrating to say the least; a woman was supposed to feel beautiful in her wedding gown, but so far, Hermione had only felt utterly ridiculous.
As she forced herself into the fifth gown, Hermione wondered just how long she would be able to tolerate it. She'd never enjoyed shopping for clothes in the first place, and the idea of choosing the dress she was going to get married in was more stressful than fun in her eyes, regardless of what the other three seemed to think. Her only real comfort came in the form of her mum's presence. This was the first time they'd been out together in ages, barring their rather serious dinner the previous Wednesday, and Hermione was pleased to be spending time with her at last. She only wished it was in a less taxing environment. The longer she stayed in the bridal shop trying on hideous gowns, the snappier she was becoming with her companions.
Reaching around her back to do up the zipper on the fifth dress, Hermione allowed herself to take a good look in the mirror of the dressing room. She felt like vomiting. This dress was even more ridiculous than the first four put together! The bodice was so tight that her breasts were spilling out the top, and while the main design was simple, just as she wanted, the skirt and train were made of so much lace that she looked puffier than the glob of marshmallows Ron always insisted on putting in his hot cocoa in the wintertime. Letting out a frustrated shriek, Hermione ran her hands through her hair, resisting the urge to tug it out.
"Everything alright in there?" Mum's kind voice called from outside.
"I'm not coming out in this one," Hermione replied crossly. "I look like a marshmallow whore."
There was a beat of silence before Ginny burst out laughing. "Well now you've got to let us see!" she chortled, but Hermione did not budge, and Mrs. Weasley immediately began to scold her daughter.
"Is it really that bad?" Mum asked quietly, her voice closer to the door now.
"Yes," Hermione whispered back, wiping her eyes furiously and willing the frustrated tears not to fall.
"Can I come in, dear?" Mum murmured, and Hermione nodded, forgetting for a moment that she couldn't see her.
"Yes, please," she muttered a moment later, and Mum opened the door just enough to slip in.
"Oh dear," Mum gasped, her eyes widening immediately at the sight of Hermione, who immediately burst into angry tears. "Oh no, love, it's not that bad-"
"Yes it is!" Hermione sobbed, collapsing to the ground and hugging her knees - or what she thought were her knees, anyway, she couldn't really feel them through all the lace.
"It's alright, Hermione," Mum soothed, crouching down as close as she could and wrapping an arm about her shoulders. "You've only tried on a few dresses; there are plenty more!"
"But I look ridiculous!" Hermione cried. She knew on some level that she was being a bit childish, but she simply couldn't help it. "I've looked ridiculous in all of them! What if it's not the dresses, Mum, what if it's just me?"
"Now that's ridiculous, dear," Mum said firmly. "What's really bothering you?"
Hermione took a few deep, calming breaths, reminding herself that now was not the time to fall apart over something silly. "I just…is it stupid…yes, it's stupid, never mind-"
"Nothing you're feeling is stupid," Mum said kindly, squeezing her shoulders comfortingly.
"I just want this wedding to be perfect," Hermione whispered finally.
"Oh?" Mum replied interestedly.
"I know it won't be; nothing is," Hermione continued. "It's just - with everything that's been happening, I wanted this one thing, you know? Nothing's going right, nothing's how I planned it. I wanted Dad to walk me down the aisle, and who knows if that will happen, and I want Ron to be waiting there, which he will be, yes, but I wanted him to be looking at me like I'm…"
"Beautiful?" Mum guessed. "He already does, dear. The boy is smitten. I think that's part of what scares your father so much, seeing any man looking at you like Ron does."
Hermione rolled her eyes with a small smile. "But you know what I mean, don't you?"
"Yes, I do," Mum replied, a look of determination crossing her eyes. "Sit down and take that atrocity off, dear. Now, what exactly were you looking for before the shopkeeper brought you these?"
"Something simple," Hermione said in a small voice, reaching around to unzip the dress and letting out a deep breath as her breasts and mid-section came free. "No lace, please."
"You wait right here," Mum ordered, leaving Hermione to climb out of the heaps of lace alone.
Ten minutes later, Mum ducked into the dressing room again, this time with three dresses in tow. "I'll take these back," she said gesturing toward the five rejects, "and you try these. They're far less expensive, you see, but I think you'll find them more to your liking."
Hermione took the new gowns with a small smile, wishing as hard as she could that her mother was right. This time, she hung the three up side by side and looked them over before trying any on. The middle one caught her eye immediately; while the other two were quite plain, this one had a simple design made out of small white beads across the bodice and trailing down to the skirt, and the barely-there cap sleeves were made of lace. However, that was the only lace on the dress; the skirt was elegant, and the train was relatively short.
Her grin growing wider, Hermione immediately began to pull it on, as quickly as she could without ripping it. Hope began to flourish tenfold in the pit of her stomach as she weaved her arms through the sleeves and pulled the zipper up, her heart rejoicing as she realized she could still breathe. Looking up at the finished product in the mirror, she beamed at her reflection and once again tried to hold back tears, this time for an entirely different reason.
"Are you alright in there, dear?" Mum's voice called through the door.
"I love you so much, Mum," Hermione called back softly, wiping a stray tear from the corner of her eye.
"I love you, too," came Mum's amused reply. "Are we allowed to see?"
Taking a deep breath, Hermione turned toward the door and opened it. "What do you think?" she asked Mum, who had brought a hand to her mouth immediately and looked on the verge of tears herself.
"Beautiful," Mum whispered, reaching out to take Hermione's hand.
"Well, let us have a look!" Ginny called impatiently from behind Mum, who quickly moved to the side so that Ginny and Mrs. Weasley could see. "Oh, Hermione!" Ginny gushed, rushing forward and taking her other hand. "It's perfect!"
"You look so beautiful, Hermione," Mrs. Weasley added as she followed her daughter, her hands dabbing at her eyes.
"I'm going to marry Ron in this dress," Hermione said breathlessly, more to herself than to the others.
"If he can pick his jaw up off the ground long enough to say his vows, yes!" Ginny quipped, and they all laughed jovially.
"No need to try on the other two, then?" Mum asked with a smirk.
"No way," Hermione replied emphatically, moving toward the nearest mirror and spinning around a few times to see herself from every angle, giggling madly as she did so. "I'm getting married!" she exclaimed joyfully, vaguely hearing the others laughing along behind her.
She hadn't felt quite this happy or carefree since the moment she'd accepted Ron's proposal nearly four months previously. Hermione knew she was silly for thinking it, but it was as though finding the perfect dress was a reassurance, somehow. It was a reminder of why she was doing all this in the first place. She loved Ron and he loved her, and they were going to be together for the rest of their lives. And as for everything else - she thought to herself as her mum explained to the saleswoman that yes, they would be taking this gown even though it was less expensive - everything else was simply secondary.
-000-
"Sit down Weasley, you're tiring me out," Bryce called from his desk.
Ron pulled a face at him as he paced around the office for the tenth time in the past hour. Because only two Aurors were generally needed on house calls, Isaac and Harry had gone to the Greengrass residence alone, leaving Ron and Bryce to stay back. Bryce had taken the opportunity to catch up on paperwork. Ron had taken the opportunity to attempt to wear a hole in the floor.
"Shouldn't they be back soon?" Ron asked tersely.
"Probably," Bryce replied. "In the mean time, sit down."
Pulling out a chair in front of the elder man's desk, Ron reluctantly complied. "Sorry," he muttered.
"This is why we generally don't let blokes work the cases involving their girls," Bryce explained tiredly. "You're too bloody nervous."
"I'd have made Harry involve me anyway," Ron dismissed. "And I'm only nervous cos I'm not there."
Bryce sighed heavily. "How's the wedding planning coming, Weasley?"
Ron narrowed his eyes at Bryce's blatant attempt to change the subject. "Fine."
"And when's the big day?" Bryce asked in a tone that was very nearly mocking.
"The fourth of September," Ron answered shortly, turning around to glance at the office door again.
"What's your girl up to today?" Bryce continued, snapping his fingers to get Ron's attention.
"Dress shopping," Ron replied distractedly.
Bryce chortled. "I remember that day well. Mary came home all weepy and wouldn't let me see the thing. I wasn't sure what to think."
Ron grunted in acknowledgement and began tugging at a loose string on his robe. "Do you think something went wrong?"
"No," Bryce snapped. "Distract me, Weasley. Tell me about your bird."
"Hermione?" Ron asked confusedly. "Everyone knows about Hermione."
"Yeah, I know she's the prodigy in Magical Creatures, but tell me about your Hermione," Bryce pressed.
"That is my Hermione," Ron said proudly. "She's brilliant. Harry and I would've been dead before our twelfth birthdays without her."
"That's why you love her, then?" Bryce asked shrewdly.
"Well, yeah, along with everything else about her," Ron answered, running a hand through his hair uncomfortably. "What's this about?"
"Takes a special kind of girl to make a bloke want to settle down before he's twenty," Bryce remarked casually. "I'd be the first to admit that I messed about for years before I met Mary."
"Well, I already knew Hermione," Ron retorted. "Shouldn't Harry and Isaac-"
"Potter, has he got a girlfriend?" Bryce interrupted.
"Yeah, my sister," Ron shot back.
"Really?" Bryce laughed incredulously.
"You're doing a piss poor job of trying to distract me," Ron said, standing up again and resuming his pacing.
"Who's your sister?" Bryce asked, ignoring him.
"Her name's Ginny. She's flying for Holyhead next season," Ron replied.
"What position?" Bryce continued, clearly impressed.
"Chaser," Ron said, glancing at the door again. "She's versatile, though, makes a decent Seeker."
"Did you play?" Bryce asked, putting his paperwork away for good now.
"I was a Keeper my last two years at school," Ron replied. "Nothing special, though, couldn't have gone professional even if I'd wanted to. Harry could've. He was a brilliant Seeker."
"I've heard," Bryce replied. "The two of you were Gryffindor, weren't you? I played Beater for the team back in my day."
"Yeah, we all were. My brothers were Beaters in school, too," Ron said, a bit of a pang hitting his chest as he remembered Fred, flying about with George and hitting bludgers left and right.
"Did your whole family play?" Bryce asked interestedly, distracting Ron again.
"All but Percy," Ron replied. "He's not terrible; he's played Chaser a few times at home, but if you've met him you'd know it's not really his thing. But yeah, the rest of us did. Even Dad did, back in the day. We grew up on it; we've got a big yard, so if we didn't fly too high we could play whenever we wanted."
"Bet family reunions are a hell of a lot more fun at yours," Bryce laughed. "You could almost field two full teams with your lot."
"If we force the non-flyers like Hermione into it, yeah," Ron replied. "But we size it down a bit, fewer Beaters and Chasers when we play."
"Your girlfriend doesn't fly?" Bryce asked.
"Nah, she always hated it," Ron said, fully turning his attention to Bryce. "I'm trying to teach her now, though. She's never liked that she couldn't just learn it from a book, see."
"Talking about Hermione?" came a familiar voice from behind them. Ron let out a sigh of relief when he turned and saw Harry and Isaac walking through the doorway.
"Where the hell have you been?" Ron asked. "You better have a shitton of leads."
"I wish we did," Isaac said honestly, summoning chairs for himself and Harry to sit around Bryce's desk. "Daphne Greengrass wasn't home. We tried to wait it out, but we ended up just talking to the sister - Astoria - instead."
"I can see why Malfoy likes her," Harry remarked wearily. "She's almost like his other half, but without the overtones of Death Eater."
"A bit of a snob, then?" Bryce guessed.
"We didn't get a lot out of her," Harry said.
"But it wasn't lack of cooperation, really," Isaac added. "She seemed willing enough to help, though I reckon she knew a bit more than she let on."
"She did admit that she let it slip to her sister about Lavender, though, so that's something," Harry said, pulling out the case file and notes he'd brought with him. "Firms up the connections, anyway. Astoria also confirmed the close relationship between her sister and Parkinson, so we've got enough reason to watch Daphne's post now."
"Is that all?" Ron asked disappointedly.
"I'm afraid so," Isaac replied. "She claimed she didn't know a thing about the threats, and I don't think she was bluffing. I got the impression she and her sister aren't close."
"I agree," Harry said. "And I don't think there's any point talking to Daphne, to be honest. It'll just turn out the same way as Parkinson, and we're already watching them both anyway."
"So what do we do next?" Ron prompted.
"I don't know that there's much we can do," Isaac replied honestly. "We can't arrest either of them til we have some sort of concrete evidence, which we haven't, and the only other possible lead is the third friend, Bulstrode. We can submit a request to talk to her, but that'll be another week at least."
"If we're right and this traces back to them, they aren't going to try anything," Bryce reasoned. "They know we're on to them."
"And if they're working for someone else?" Harry asked concernedly.
"That's why we've got the victims protected," Isaac said calmly. "The threats occurred within one week, and since we brought Parkinson in there hasn't been any similar activity. I think this is all we can do for the time being."
After collectively reviewing the case file once more, the foursome went on their way early in the evening, an air of disappointment and frustration hovering over them. Ron was about ready to go home and take a long relaxing bath, but, remembering that it was his turn to come up with dinner, he made a stop on the way to pick up Chinese take-away. The whole way, his thoughts were filled with threatening messages and images of classmates he'd hoped would have vanished into thin air post-Hogwarts. This only added to his stress, and by the time he got back to the flat, he was ready to forgo the bath and simply collapse into bed straight away after dinner.
That was, of course, until he arrived home and was greeted almost immediately by an armful of Hermione.
Dropping the take-away bag as she jumped into his arms and kissed him, Ron wrapped her in his embrace and happily returned the favor, complying immediately when she began to maneuver them toward the sofa.
"Not that I mind being greeted this way-" Ron began to say when they finally broke apart for air, but his statement was cut off as she began to tug his robes off in a very distracting manner.
"I love you," Hermione breathed before fiercely attacking his lips again, and this time he didn't dare question it.
Forty very pleasant moments later, during which he had multiple chances to return her sentiment, they found themselves lying naked on the sofa, a pillow Hermione had transfigured into a blanket wrapped around them. The Chinese take-away still lay forgotten on the floor near the door.
"I found my dress today," Hermione murmured into Ron's chest as he let his fingers run through her hair.
"Can you find your dress every day?" Ron teased, dropping a kiss on top of her head.
She tapped his chest lightly and tutted. "Typical."
"Mhm," Ron agreed lazily, shifting so that she was lying half on top of him. "This is nice."
"It is," Hermione concurred with a smile before leaning up and kissing him lightly on the lips.
"Can marriage just be like this?" Ron asked with an easy grin, moving his hands down to graze her backside.
"Shagging in the sitting room? Unlikely," Hermione replied, poking him in the stomach.
"Doesn't have to be the sitting room," Ron said sincerely. "I'm open to any number of locations. It doesn't just have to be the shagging, either; this part's nice, too."
Hermione laughed good-naturedly. "Unfortunately, my dear fiancée, there's the small matter of the real world that needs to be dealt with."
"Ah, fuck that," Ron dismissed, running his hands up and down her back. "That just makes it all complicated. This is simple...better."
"Yeah?" Hermione inquired, raising an eyebrow curiously.
"I just mean…when we're like this, I can just say that I love you, because I do, and that's all there is to it," Ron told her thoughtfully.
"You can say that anytime, as long as you mean it," Hermione remarked with a small smile.
"Yeah, but it's easier like this," Ron said. "It's just us; nobody trying to mess it up."
"Nobody can mess up us now," Hermione replied automatically.
"Won't stop them from trying," Ron said doubtfully.
"We won't let them win," Hermione told him firmly.
"Cos we have this," Ron finished, smiling at the realization that they could finish each other's thoughts and determinedly not thinking about what his brothers might say if they knew that particular tidbit.
"Exactly." She beamed at him, and he leaned in to kiss her again. The take-away could wait awhile longer.
A/N: So yes, a bit more lighthearted than the last few, I'd say. And it was fun for Hermione to be a bit of a girly-girl because let's be real, we'd probably all be like that when choosing a wedding dress. Also, here's a link to the wedding gown I based Hermione's off of, just remove the spaces: www . weddingen wp-content/uploads/2013/07/classic-wedding-dress-n ew-fashion-trends-2013 . jpg
Mr. Granger makes his grand reappearance next time - which should be posted on Monday! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Now, I don't want to be seen as begging for reviews or anything, because the fact that anybody reads this at all still blows my mind a little, but I really would like to hear what you think, if you've got the time. Thank you for reading! :)