Hermione graduates from Ilvermorny at the top of her class, as always. She's planning on getting a job in Magical Congress, when it occurs to her that they have a business in the Muggle world that needs running.
Instead of going directly into the workforce, then, she attends some post-Ilvermorny classes, available in Gotham City on Vertica Boulevard. She studies Runes and Arithmancy, as well as Potions, Transfigurations and Charms, all of which she had a great interest in.
It's not the same, though, studying without Jack. She wonders, as she does every day, where he is and if he's safe. If he's happy. If he's found some other girl.
She knows that magical classes won't help her in running a Muggle business, but she makes some connections that can help her expand the business into the magical world, and those will help.
She also has a tutor teach her some Muggle subjects that she's missed out on. Altogether, she keeps herself busy enough that she barely has time to think about Jack.
Bruce notices, when he returns from Princeton for summer vacation, that Hermione is... sad, for lack of a better word. Depressed is more accurate, and he wonders what happened to the boy with the scars.
She'd explained to him that he was expelled in a letter shortly thereafter, but she'd mentioned that they were supposed to keep in touch. Bruce figured that he hadn't been keeping his promise, which made him mad – no one broke his sister's heart and got away with it.
Alfred notices how busy she's become, and he pulls her aside on night to have a talk with her.
"You're mourning," he says simply.
"He's not dead," she whispers, and Alfred's not sure who she's trying to convince, him or herself.
"Nevertheless, you're mourning his loss. He's gone, and you haven't come to terms with it yet." He looks her in the eyes, gently raising her face from its downcast position. "I'm here for you, Miss Hermione, if you want to talk about it. Alright?"
"Yes. Thank you, Alfred," she adds, tears beginning to drip down her face.
"You're very welcome."
By the time she reaches twenty years of age and learns of the trial of their parents' murderer that is to come, she's the head of Wayne Industries, Bruce being too busy with college to be able to run the business. She's expanded into the magical world, importing and exporting all manner of magical supplies, from wand wood to potions ingredients. She has a shadow Board of Directors, made up of magical people she's decided she can trust with the welfare of the company, some of whom are members of the Muggle Board as well.
Bruce returns from Princeton for the trial, and they attend it together, hand clasped tightly in the other's. When the judge asks them for a statement, Hermione hangs her head, and Bruce, steel-faced, leads them out of the courtroom.
Hermione wants to leave, to go and never look at the courthouse again, but Bruce wants to stay and watch as the murderer is led to the police cars, so she stays. He releases her hand as the doors open. He reaches into his pocket on the opposite side of her, but Hermione can tell by the way he's holding his arm that he's holding a weapon.
She grabs Bruce's other arm in a vicegrip. He tries to shake her off. "Hermione," he says urgently, but it's too late; she's stayed his arm long enough for someone else to shoot the murderer. They watch as he falls to the ground, as their parents had.
Bruce confronts her later about this. "Why did you stop me?" He's cold, and she doesn't think she's ever seen him this angry. It's scary.
"You're not a killer, Bruce. And I don't want you to become one."
He doesn't have an answer to that, and after a moment he stalks away.
Bruce is leaving.
No one knows where he's going, not even Bruce, but he can't return to Princeton – and doesn't want to anyway – so he's leaving for parts unknown. She's going to miss him. So is Alfred.
They see him off at the airport as he takes a flight to Europe, at least at first. He plans on heading around the world, if he can using the limited money he has with him.
Eventually, he stops answering letters, and even Thomas can't find him. It is seven years before they hear from him again.
Alfred comes into her office one day. She's in the middle of proofreading a grant proposal to send to the Magical Congress, but she sets it aside. The look on her surrogate father's face is serious, but not grim – if anything, there is a muted happiness behind the gravity. Alfred is too proper to show too much emotion
"Master Bruce just got in touch," he says. "He's halfway across the world. Want to take a trip?"
"I could use a break," she says, and she's grinning. She throws her arms around Alfred in celebration.
He hugs her just as tightly.
They step off the plane onto an airstrip in the middle of the mountains in God knows what little Asian country. Bruce is standing there, and as he sees her his arms open wide. She tackles him, which is extremely unbecoming for a CEO of an international business like her, but she doesn't care, it's her brother and he was dead and now he's not. He's coming home.
They talk on the of nothing in particular at first, and then it gets into what Hermione's been doing over the last few years, and then it gets into what Bruce has been up to.
"Are you coming back to Gotham for long, sir?" Alfred asks.
"As long as it takes," Bruce says, and there's an edge to his voice. Determination, grim and strong.
Bruce has changed, Hermione thinks.
"Takes for what?" Hermione asks.
"I want to show the people their city doesn't belong to the criminals and the corrupt."
"In the depression," Alfred begins sternly, "your father nearly bankrupted Wayne Industries combating poverty. He believed that his example could inspire the wealthy of Gotham to save their city."
"Did it?"
"In a way. Their murder shocked the wealthy and the powerful into action."
"People need dramatic examples to shake them out of apathy. I can't do that as Bruce Wayne. As a man, I'm flesh and blood. I can be ignored, destroyed. As a symbol…"
He paused and Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but he cut her off.
"As a symbol, I can be incorruptible."
"But how can you become a symbol, Bruce? I mean, you're already a symbol. Or you could be. You're Gotham's prince, after all."
"No. I need to be more than that. I need to be someone else. I can't just be Bruce Wayne, Gotham's prince. Not anymore."
Hermione places her hand on his shoulder. "Well, whatever you decide to do, I'll help you as much as I can."
He smiles at her, but it's a little distant, as though he's still thinking of something else.
Batman.
It's simultaneously ridiculous and brilliant. Becoming his greatest fear – a bat – and using that fear, spreading it to others… it's a good idea, she has to admit.
If only the idea didn't require him to dress up as a giant bat.
She doesn't approve of Bruce's public behaviour, and she makes that abundantly clear to him. It's necessary, he tells her; he needs to have a cover up of some sort for his behaviour as Batman, his late nights and later days, and what better way to do it than play the brainless billionaire heir?
Hermione understands, but she doesn't like it. It doesn't reflect well on the company or on her, and if there's one thing she really hates, it's the company's name being ruined by stupidity.
Take that Mr. Earle. Trying to make the company go public – against Hermione's wishes, as the CEO – was a foolish idea. Frankly, it could ruin the whole company, as well as the Waynes, but that wasn't as important. Wayne Industries, as Thomas had run it and as Hermione was now running it, is well known for its humanitarian efforts and for dealing in things such as medical supplies, often at costs lower than their competitors where needed. And Earle wanted the company public and dealing in arms.
What a fool.
Several weeks after the Batcave – as Hermione insists on calling it – is all set up and Batman begins patrolling the streets there is a major incident.
Hermione doesn't get involved, at first, doesn't see a way that she can. It's after Bruce comes back to the Batcave nearly comatose and she has to use their emergency bezoar on him that she starts trying to help.
There's not much she can do at first, since she doesn't have a sample of the toxin that was used on Bruce. It's only after he mentions blue flowers that she remembers the blue flowers of which Magical Congress had just passed a law banning the trade, since they were a key ingredient in various hallucinogens and poisons. Putting that together with the way Bruce had been muttering about bats and the explanation about a trial he'd undergone in Bhutan allowed her to narrow down the list of possible ingredients to use for a wider-spread antidote.
With the help of Lucius Fox, a man working in the R&D department of Wayne Enterprises, she managed to create an antidote just in time for half the city to be gassed.
In the fallout of the gas attack on Gotham, Wayne Enterprises was vital to the efforts to aid in the recovery of the people of Gotham, especially in the Narrows – Hermione made sure of that. Her antidote was made public, free and readily available to hospitals and clinics all around Gotham. In the first few days after the attack, people were lining up out the doors of clinics, hoping to get their shot of the antidote.
Hermione can't help but be proud of that. Even as she mourns the loss of Wayne Manor and her life previous, she's buoyed by the thought of her good deed towards the people of Gotham. Perhaps hers will be another dramatic example for the wealthy to follow, like her parents' before her.
She only hopes it doesn't take her murder for them to start following it.
In the aftermath, Hermione helped Bruce out much more with his efforts as Batman. For two solid weeks, she rarely left her makeshift potions lab in their new penthouse, brewing a variety of potions that could possibly be useful, from healing to sensory strengthening to sedatives for use on criminals, and organizing them in a cupboard in the Bat Bunker – as she's begun calling Batman's new lair underneath a shipping container – by use and strength. Even after the first two weeks, she was often found in her lab.
Perhaps because of this and perhaps because – though she'd never admit it – she was tired of running the company, she and Bruce made Lucius Fox co-CEO of Wayne Industries. He was an excellent choice – calm and capable of managing the board. He stepped into her occasionally absent shoes with the ease of a man who'd done it before.
Almost ten months after the gas attack, the news began to report about several high-profile bank robberies. No traces were left but Joker cards, which opened up the cases to suspicions of being related.
"Of course they're related," Hermione scoffs to Bruce one morning as the GCN repeats yesterday's story about the latest bank robbery. "Why would more than one person leave the same calling card at different crime scenes?" She gives him a sideways glance.
"I've been looking into it," he assures her. "The police can't find anything on the cards – no fingerprints, nothing – but I'm trying."
A few days after the latest robbery, Bruce announces his intentions to host a fundraiser for Harvey Dent. Hermione doesn't react except to raise an eyebrow.
"As long as you don't expect me to organize it," she says.
He takes care of the preparations himself, and the night of the fundraiser arrives and the party begins without incident. It's later, after Bruce's speech to Harvey Dent, that the incident happens.
A man in a purple suit, face painted white, red and black, comes in the door and fires several rounds from his gun into the ceiling. He moves further into the room, the centre of attention, and demands the whereabouts of Harvey Dent.
"Do you know where Harvey is? Do you know who he is?" he taunts, and Hermione finds herself stepping forward.
"Stop," she says, in unison with Rachel, who had the same idea. The man in the suit – who couldn't be anyone but the Joker, she's seen the surveillance footage of him and his little video on GCN – looks to Hermione first, studies her face, then moves on to Rachel.
"Hello, beautiful," he says, and Hermione sees a flash of a boy who used to call her beautiful. She's not sure why, but the Joker reminds her painfully of Jack, from his movements to the accent of his voice. But that was impossible, she told herself; Jack wouldn't become this… this monster, this killer, not for anything.
She watches with the rest of the partygoers as Batman bursts in, as he throws himself out the window for Rachel, heedless of the danger or of leaving the Joker with the rest of the people in the penthouse. Hermione manages to catch herself before she rolls her eyes; he was lucky she'd just redone the Cushioning Charm on his armor that morning, or the impact with the ground below would seriously injure him.
The Joker somehow slipped away in the chaos of party guests screaming, but Hermione can't shake his image from her thoughts that night.
The worst is confirmed the next morning, as she receives a parcel – checked thoroughly for danger by the police officers now stationed in the building's lobby – containing a rose and a solitary Joker card. She reads the text written on it and has to sit down, heavily.
'To the Belle of the ball', the card reads in a familiar chicken scratch, and in that instant she knows that Jack is the Joker.
It is then that it becomes personal.
There's no DNA on the card, not like the card left on the false Batman's body, but the police take it away for analysis nonetheless. She is left with the rose, and it lies on her bedside table as she sits on the bed, studying it.
She makes up her mind, and she clears a spot on her desk so she can write. She takes a fresh sheet of paper and her best pen and writes a short missive.
Dear Jack,
This has to end. I don't know why you're killing people and I don't care why, I just know you can't do this anymore.
I'm willing to meet with you, if that's what you want. Make your way to the ruins of Wayne Manor tonight – you know where it is.
Hopefully I'll see you then.
-Mione
She calls Thomas over and ties the letter to his leg. "Bring this to Jack," she murmurs, and releases him from the window.
That evening, Thomas returns with something held in his beak – a Joker card. Hermione studies the card for a moment, then drops it and Apparates away.
The card flutters to the floor.
Hermione reappears in front of what used to be Wayne Manor, in front of the gate to the small family graveyard. She will be buried there, someday. Hopefully not someday soon.
She looks up the hill to where the charred remnants of the house still stand. There is a figure standing by one of the struts, arm outstretched as if to touch the burned structure.
He appears to be alone, but it's still best to check, especially when it comes to this man. Hermione takes her wand out of the hosted in her sleeve and utters two words. "Homenum revelio."
The figure at the top of the hill shudders, and she imagines the swooping feeling in her stomach that he must be feeling.
The spell reveals that he is alone.
Cautiously, Hermione approaches the ashes and the man standing in them. When she's almost reached what used to be the front door, she calls out. "Jack."
The figure's head snaps toward her, his head obscured by shadow, the light of the moon behind him shining in a cruel mockery of a halo. She remembers the way he looked as a child, angelic despite the scars slashed across his face, and she wants to cry.
"Don't call me that," he snarls, his voice dark and deep.
"Joker," she whispers.
"That's more like it." He turns his body towards her, giving her his full attention. The wind whips at her hair and his coat, their shifting the only sounds in the darkness.
Suddenly he laughs, a high, mocking cackle. "Look at you now, princess. You're practically crying just at the sight of me. That's sad."
"What do you want from Gotham, Joker?"
"What do I want? I want chaos. I want the people of Gotham to realize just how easily corrupted their little ideals are. I want… I want everything to burn."
"Why? Why should everything burn? There are good people in Gotham, good people who just want to live their lives."
"But that's the thing, isn't it? Good isn't real. All those so called 'good people'… If you took those 'good people' and put them in a corner, suddenly nothing matters but their own skins. There's no such thing as good. There's only people who haven't been pushed to their edge." The lower half of his face seems to stretch out, and Hermione realizes he's grinning. "You see, madness is like gravity. All it takes to slip off that edge is a little… push."
"Where did you go?" she whispers, and steps forward, heedless of any possible danger. No matter what name he wears, he's still Jack, and he wouldn't hurt her...
Would he?
He watches her approach, the smile sliding off his face. As she draws closer, his face comes into better view, the white paint seemingly glowing through the gloom, his eyes looking like nothing more than endless black pits. She stops a few steps away.
Hermione almost reaches out a hand to him, but she wraps her arms around herself instead.
"I thought you were dead."
He bares his teeth at her. "I should be."
"Where did you go, after…"
"I went…" He frowns. "I went everywhere. Anywhere I could go."
Hermione takes another step closer, and quick as a flash, the Joker has a knife in his hand. "Stop that," he hisses.
Hermione raised her wand slightly. "Lumos," she murmurs, casting light on them. It glints off the blade in his hand, and she suddenly has to swallow past a lump in her throat.
It's a pocketknife with a wooden handle, the very same one Alfred gave him for Christmas in their fourth year. The handle is nicked and scratched, and there's a long scratch down the side of the blade, but it's unmistakable.
"You still have it," she whispers.
"What, this?" He examines the knife, runs a finger down the scratch on the side of the blade. "I've always had this."
"Alfred gave it to you, for Christmas."
"Alfred?"
It slips from his lips quietly, as though he didn't mean to say it, but the damage is done.
"Don't you remember? Fourth year, you came here for Christmas. You gave me a… a copy of the Kama Sutra. And a rose. You… you really don't remember?"
He stares her in the face, his black eyes revealing nothing. Slowly, he starts to chuckle.
"Should I?"
Hermione can feel the tears being to fall down her face. She swipes at them angrily. "Do you even remember me? Who I was to you?"
He's laughing now, his cackle reverberating through the grounds. "Should I?"
Hermione raises her wand. She's never performed this piece of magic, but she knows the theory well enough that she should be successful. "Legilimens."
Suddenly she is inside his mind. It is fragmented, pieces of thoughts and memories cutting at her as they fly past. Only his recent memories are intelligible; the rest are a chaotic jumble of images and sounds. She delves into the mass, picking out pieces of familiar memories and bringing them to the front of his mind: Alfred handing him a parcel, Hermione smiling at him at the Halloween dance, kissing him in the garden, holding his hand as he takes the stitches out of his scars.
She retreats from his mind and his eyes close for a moment. When they open again they are clouded, a small frown pulling at his scars. "What did you do?"
"What can you remember?"
"I still can't remember much, but it's, ah, more than I had."
"Do you remember what happened to you?"
"Nope."
Hermione frowns. By the way his mind seemed to work, she suspects magic had some role to play in his loss of memory – perhaps too much shoddy use of Legilimency, or an obliviation spell gone awry. It is impossible to be sure.
Still, there are magical treatments for brain damage. A simple Memory Potion may go a long way to restoring Jack's mind, for example. Or there are more complicated – and slightly illegal – potions that could change one's thought process; these were typically used on patients being treated for various mental disorders or damage caused by spells.
Hermione reaches out her hand to the Joker. "Ja-Joker. Come with me. I can help you get your memories back, but I need time and a safe place to do that. I have a safe place we can stay, but I need time with you there to help you."
He regards her curiously, licking his lips – a habit he never grew out of. "And what if I don't want to go with you? What if I don't need help? 'Cause I'm not the one who's crazy. It's the people of Gotham, they're the crazy ones." He shakes his head, finger wagging back and forth in time. "They think they can just live in their own little worlds, that nothing bad's ever gonna happen to them just cause they're good people. Well guess what! There are no good people! We've been over this, princess, and if you still think I'm wrong… Well, you're just another one of those crazy masses, aren't you?"
"Please let me help you," she says urgently. "You don't have to do this, you don't have to destroy Gotham just to prove a point. You used to love this city, you just don't remember."
He ignores her. "Say, princess. Since you seem so… e-nam-oured of them…" Suddenly, he lunges at Hermione, knife entering her mouth like it did Rachel's the night before. "Wanna know how I got these scars?"
Hermione freezes. He wouldn't actually…
Before she can finish the thought, the Joker is talking again. "See, I had this girlfriend… we used to sneak out all the time. Roam around the back alleys of downtown Gotham and get up to all the usual teenage nonsense. One night, we wandered a little too far from home, right into a gang's territory. They didn't like that, no: they killed her, right in front of me. Then the gang leader, he turns to be and he says, why are you frowning? You oughta be smiling! The rest of us are! So he pulls a knife on me and he sticks the blade in my mouth, like this," he jiggles the blade in Hermione's mouth for emphasis, cutting her lips in several places. "and he… Why ya frowning, princess? You oughta be smiling!"
'Stupefy!' Hermione thinks, and a blast of red light flies from her wand where it's pressed between them. She is aware of being thrown back some distance, and then everything goes black.
When Hermione wakes, the Joker is gone. All that is left of him is his knife, lying on her chest, and a Joker card. She curses – she could have had Jack back! – but there is nothing to be done now.
It is still dark, but a few rays of light peek out from over the horizon. She's been out for almost too long, and Alfred has likely noticed her absence, even if Bruce hasn't. She stands, puts the knife in her pocket and Apparates back to the penthouse, leaving the Joker card on the ground next to where she was lying.
When she appears in her room, Alfred is there waiting for her. He frowns at her, disapproving, but the expression disappears when she throws herself into his arms with a sob.
"Alfred, I... he... Jack, he's..." She can barely get a word out through her sobs. Instead, she reaches into her pocket and shows him the knife.
Alfred has already seen the Joker card on the floor, so he understands immediately. He doesn't say anything; instead, he gently guides Hermione to the bed and holds her as she sobs.
When her cries have quieted and her shaking slows, Alfred murmurs, "All right, miss?"
"Better, a little." She lets out a hiccupping laugh. "When I first saw… him… I thought maybe… but I never thought it really was Jack."
"None of us would have."
"The worst part is that he doesn't – he doesn't even remember. He has no idea who you are or where he got this. I don't even think he remembers me."
"Why would he send you a rose if he didn't remember you?"
"I... I don't know. But his mind... he didn't... There was nothing in there I could make any sense of at all. Maybe he remembered me, but not... it didn't make any sense."
Alfred fixes her with a stern look. "You used Legilimency on him?"
"It was a bad idea, I know, but I... I had to know." She shakes her head, her tears renewed. "Now I know."
She throws herself into helping Bruce, spending nearly every waking moment in her Potions lab. On the side stews a cauldron of Memory Potion, but she doesn't mention it, and Bruce doesn't ask.
Hermione's not gifted with the Sight – and she never bothered to continue with Divinations after third year because of it – but she knows Bruce and the Joker will meet again soon. She can feel it. So if she can get to Jack by using Bruce...
She wants to go to Commissioner Loeb's funeral. She knows Jack will be there, somehow – but Bruce stops her.
"It's not safe."
"What kind of a witch would I be if I couldn't get myself out of a bit of trouble?" Idiot, she doesn't say.
"There's no point in going, though. You'll never find him in that crowd."
"I can always try. Nothing's stopping me from that. Except you, apparently."
Bruce sighs hard and looks her in the eye. "Trust me. There's nothing there for you."
"I think I should make that decision for myself, shouldn't I?"
"The Mayor's life's been threatened."
"And?"
"So it won't be safe for anyone to be near there. The potential for collateral damage is way too high." He takes her hand. "I don't want you to get hurt."
She rolls her eyes. "But you can't stop me from going, so I'm going. I'll be just fine, Bruce." Her eyes soften. "But thank you for worrying about me."
It's not the nicest funeral she's been to. And the Mayor's speech is rather idiotic, she thinks privately, rolling her eyes as the man drones on about duty and some such, she stopped listening two minutes ago.
She keeps her eyes peeled for any sign of Jack, searching the faces of passersby for his distinctive scars. But she sees nothing.
The mayor wraps up his speech, and gestures for the honor guard to begin their show. One shot rings out over the crowd. Another.
And then everything goes to hell.
The honor guard turns and fires at the Mayor. Lieutenant Gordon throws himself forward over the Mayor and takes two shots to the back for his trouble. The crowd erupts into pandemonium, and Hermione throws herself forward, into the thick of things, whether to help poor Gordon or to find Jack in the riot she doesn't know.
She finds herself on stage, where several police officers are surrounding Gordon's limp body. Silently, she Confounds them so that they let her through, flanking her in the process. Also silently, she does what she can to fix Gordon's wounds – staunches the bleeding, Vanishes the bullets that hadn't gone through him completely, fixes the worst of the organ damage. As her Confundus wears off, she backs away from Gordon's still unmoving body and off the stage.
Bruce bumps into her as she leaves the stage.
"What were you doing?"
"Saving Gordon's life, hopefully." She lowers her voice. "I know he's a friend."
"Can you wake him up?"
"Probably. We'll need to get rid of those cops, though."
"I have a plan."
She rolls her eyes. "I could always Confound them. It might just be easier."
Bruce stares at her for a second before grinning. "I love magic."
She Confounds the poor officers for a second time, this time putting more power into the charm so it'll last a little longer. She then wakes Gordon.
He blinks slowly a few times, then obviously focuses on her and Bruce. "Wayne – what the hell?"
"Best don't move anywhere fast, those bullets did a lot of damage," Hermione says quietly.
"I can tell. What are you doing here?"
Bruce looks around – more for show than anything, since Hermione is keeping an eye out to make sure they're not interrupted. "We're friends of the Batman. He needs your help."
"I'm a little indisposed at the moment."
"We'll bring you somewhere you can recover, then you can help him out. But we need everyone to think you're dead."
"How in the hell are you gonna do that?"
"Just trust us," Hermione says, a note of urgency in her voice. "Leave the hard stuff to us, and the planning to Batman."
Gordon gives them both hard looks, then sighs and nods. "Fine. Knock me out then."
Batman makes arrangements to have the apparently dead Gordon on the SWAT team that'll bring Batman, unmasked, from the press conference to the police holding cells. Bruce and Hermione then depart for the press conference, after Bruce has Alfred burn every file and document he has that would lead back to Rachel or Lucius Fox.
At the conference, Harvey Dent makes a speech. It would be an impressive one, and Hermione thought that it might almost make the difference necessary to keep Batman out of jail, until someone yells out "No more dead cops!"
Back to square one.
Bruce stands, gets ready to reveal himself, but Dent beats him to the punch. "So be it. Take the Batman into custody.
"I am the Batman."
Hermione makes her very slow way to the MCU that night, after she hears the news that the SWAT convoy was ambushed and the Joker was captured.
She arrives just in time to see the building go up in flames.
She gives Bruce a syringe as soon as she gets home.
"What is this?"
"It's for the Joker."
"But what is it?"
"Memory Potion."
She hadn't told Bruce about the Joker, but he nods anyway. She hadn't seen it, but he'd been standing outside the door when she'd sobbed out the story to Alfred.
"Do you really think it'll bring him back?"
She starts slightly, then nods. "I think it'll do some good, if nothing else. Maybe it will stop his rampage, remind him of how much he – he loved Gotham."
Loved me.
The first she hears of what happened to the Joker came two days later from Arkham Asylum, after Rachel's funeral and Harvey's.
"Ms. Wayne? We have – someone here who'd like to speak to you." There is a short pause. "Actually, he refuses to cooperate if he can't speak to you. We're kind of at the end of our rope -"
"Who is it?"
"It's, um..." Suddenly, there is the sound of a scuffle at the other end, as though the phone is being passed along to someone else.
"Hello?"
It's him. Hermione can hardly breathe. "Jack?"
"Hey, uh, Her-mi-o-ne."
"It is you. Are you alright?"
He laughs, a wheezy chuckle. It doesn't contain the malice it did the last time she heard it. "You could say that. It'd be a lie, though. Ha ha."
There is a short pause. Just as Hermione opens her mouth to speak, Jack speaks again.
"Look, listen. If you could come here and, I don't know, maybe – help me out a little here, what can you do to stop these guys from kicking the shit out of me?"
Hermione sees red. "I'll be right there."
She hangs up the phone and Apparates away.
"We can't let you go in there, ma'am."
"And why exactly can't you?"
The head doctor flounders. "Well – because you're not his next of kin, for one. And – he's too dangerous. We can't let anyone in there."
"Well." She looks him in the eye. "Who's in charge of the hospital? Who's the head administrator?"
"Well, uh – I can take you to speak to him."
He leads Hermione through the halls to the head administrator's office. She slips past him into the office, and he takes his leave – she almost thinks she hears a sigh of relief from him as she heads in.
"Hello, Ms. Wayne. What can I do for you today?" The director asks, with a rather wary look on his face. The Waynes have been one of the biggest contributors to the asylum for the last thirty years or so, so he doesn't want to offend her, she figures. At the same time, he doesn't know why she's here.
"I want custody over the Joker."
He starts. "You – I'm sorry, what?"
"I want custody over the Joker," she repeats. "I personally want to make sure that he's being rehabilitated properly, and that he's not being mistreated by your staff." She fixes him with a look. "I received a call from him earlier today that implied he'd been hurt somehow. I want to make sure that it wasn't your staff that had harmed him."
"He was known to have been in an altercation with the Batman before being brought here," the director pointed out. "It's likely that the injuries he implied were a result of that fight, not by any mistreatment on the part of my staff."
"In any case, I'd like to see him."
"I'm afraid I can't let you do that."
Hermione glowered at him, causing him to raise his hands defensively. "And why not?"
"He's far too dangerous to see anyone right now. Maybe later on, a few years down the road, when he's been rehabilitated, but not right now."
"Send me with a guard, then. I don't even have to go into his cell – I just want to speak to him for a few moments. "
She could see he was wavering, so she waited for a moment. Finally, he sighed and nodded.
"Okay. But you can only talk to him – you're not to go within five feet of his cell wall. I'll be keeping an eye on you through the security camera, and I'll send two orderlies with you."
She smiled. "Thank you very much."
"Joker!"
"Mizz Wayne," he replies with a grin. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
She could see in his face, bare of the garish makeup that he usually wore, that he really was glad to see her. With a small gesture, she Confounded the orderlies so that they would stay in place and not hear her conversation.
"Jack," she murmured, tears filling her eyes. "I missed you."
"Now, don't go gettin' all teary-eyed on me. I still don't remember ya that well." He frowned. "What was it that Batsy hit me with?"
"A Memory Potion. I thought it might bring back some of your memories." She smiled slightly, hopefully. "It seems like it might have helped...?"
"Little bit. I remember you and your brother a little better. And Alfred." He glanced at the two orderlies, then back at her. "My memories make more, ah, sense now. That was all you, huh?"
"I suppose so. It's hard to tell, with a mind like yours."
He raised an eyebrow, absently licking his lips. "That's what you did then? Read my mind? I don't like that much, princess."
Hermione looked away. "I didn't see any other way, at the time. There might not have been any other way."
"Way to what?"
"Figure out why you'd forgotten us."
"And, ah, what'd you figure out?"
She looked him in the eyes again. "I probably won't be able to figure that out without looking inside your head again."
He spread out his hands.
"What?" Hermione asked.
"Well, go ahead. You're the one with the wand, after all."
She shook her head. "I'm not going to do it without proper permission again. You deserve to know what the risks are."
"Do tell."
"I could... If I don't perform the spell properly, I could damage your memories even further, or I could... I could damage your mind further, causing you to possibly regress in mental capabilities or to be unable to function entirely."
"So... I could become a, ah, vegetable?"
"Essentially."
He started to laugh, that wheezy chuckle. He spread his arms out wider, meeting her eyes. "Do it."
"Are you sure?"
"As little as I can actually remember you, I, ah, I trust you."
She blinks. Then, she nods a little, gathers herself, and points her wand, still hidden in her wrist holster, at Jack.
"Legilimens."
She is again surrounded by flying shards of memory, but instead of void surrounding them, there is a backdrop. A manor house, like one from a haunted house ride in a No-Maj theme park, stands looming over her. She looks up at it, shaking her head with a grin, and moves towards it, grabbing some errant memory shards from around her on the way.
Just outside the door stands Jack, resplendent in his purple Joker suit, covered once more in his makeup. He turns to her, looking out and away from the manor in fascination.
"So this is, ah, what my head looks like?"
"It can look like whatever you want it to, if you have the focus to make it that way."
He shrugs, grins. "I like this." He reaches back and knocks on the door of the house, and suddenly a trapdoor opens up below them and they fall in.
Hermione holds onto the jagged pieces of memory as they fall down, down, down. After some time, they land in a wood-paneled foyer, the wood bleached grey by time and dust. The only splash of colour in the room is around them, a small amount of the floor around them turning brown and burnished bright, as though their very presence is bringing life into the house. Which it could be, Hermione supposes – they were taught some of the basics of Occlumency in their elective Mind Arts class in sixth year, so this house was probably Jack's mindscape fallen to ruin.
As they move up the stairs, the colour moves along with them, leaving the floor grey once again in their wake. Hermione glances at the memory shards in her arms – they are of the Hallowe'en dance in fourth year, when he threatened Mark with the butterknife.
They make their way into an upstairs hallway. Hermione turns to the first door she sees, which has a worn plaque on the door. First year at Ilvermorny, it says.
She dashes down the hall. Three doors down is the room she's looking for – Hallowe'en dance with Mione.
She opens the door. The room is dark, but as she steps in further, the room becomes weakly illuminated. It looks like the Great Hall at Ilvermorny, decorated for Hallowe'en with thousands of candles and live bats. Somehow, though, the room looks... faded.
Hermione releases the memory shards, and suddenly, the image of the room is a little brighter, as though it was a photograph being edited to be clearer.
Jack pokes his head in the door and looks around, chewing on his scars in thought. "Pretty impressive."
"Don't you recognize this place?"
He looks around again, and suddenly she can see it hit him. "Ilvermorny," he says. "The Hallowe'en dance. I wonder..."
Suddenly, the room starts moving. It looks like a bad movie, like an old film, worn and greyed with time, but everything is happening as it should. Jack looks at Hermione pensively.
"I was remembering it," he says.
She shrugs. "When I'm remembering something, while meditating, my mindscape doesn't look like this. But I suppose everyone's different."
He nods.
"I'm going to leave your mind now," she says. "My time with you should be almost up."
Hermione comes back to herself in the nick of time – the director comes into the hallway just as she's collected herself.
"It's time to go, Ms. Wayne," he says.
She turns to Jack – the Joker, now that the director is in the room. "I'm going to gain custody over you," she tells him, and to anyone else it might be a threat, but to Jack it's a promise. He nods slightly, accepting the pact.
As she turns and follows the director to the door, Jack calls out in a cheery voice, "See you again, Mizz Wayne!"
The director rolls his eyes as the door slams shut.
True to her word, Hermione gains custody of the Joker. Her lawyers have no problem handling the issue – they're confused as to why she'd want to deal with the madman, but they're paid well enough not to bother asking those kinds of questions. Legally, Hermione becomes the Joker's next of kin.
Which means that the asylum can no longer stop her from visiting him.
She spends long hours there, guiding him in meditation and helping him regain his memories with potions and Legilimency. He becomes more and more like his old self every day – but she is under no illusions; the Joker's still in his head. She can bring the boy of her youth back, but she can't take the clown out of him.
Meanwhile, Batman is on the run, keeping out of the eye of the police – but he's still doing what he can to keep the criminal element of Gotham down. If Hermione has to recast the Disillusionment enchantment on his armor every other week with how often he's using it, well, that's just another part of her job.
All in all, Hermione is kept busy. She rarely thinks about all they lost at the hands of the Joker, and the mob – but she doesn't forget. And she doesn't forget that Bruce remembers, too.
It is when she proposes having Jack released into her care that Bruce finally protests.
"We're not having the Joker here!"
"He's not the Joker, not anymore. His doctor at Arkham says he's made remarkable progress towards rehabilitation."
Bruce snorts. "As if that monster could ever be rehabilitated. No. No way he's coming here."
She manages to wheedle Bruce into coming with her to meet Jack, as she calls him. The whole trip to Arkham, he grumbles under his breath about "psycho clowns taking away my baby sister", but she ignores him.
"Ah, so I finally get to meet the elusive Mr. Wayne," Jack snarks as they head down the hall towards his cell. "Do tell, is he handsome?"
"Jack. This is my brother, Bruce. You remember him from Christmas, don't you?"
Jack frowns slightly. "Uh... yeah, a little. Doesn't look much like the scrawny kid I remember."
"Do try to be polite," Hermione mutters as Bruce rolls his eyes.
"I can believe you're the same Jack," he says. "Except that you're fucking insane."
"Bruce!"
Jack waves this away. "Don't worry, doll, I got this. You think I'm crazy now? Don't you, ah, re-mem-ber the things I did?" He giggles, the high laugh of the Joker coming out to play, then stops, his face sobering. "I ain't that guy anymore, ya know. I'm all on the, ah... straight and nar-row."
Bruce's eyes narrow. "You can't fool me, clown. You might be able to convince my sister otherwise, but you're still the scum that killed Rachel."
Jack giggles again. "Ooh, was she your girlfriend? Whoopsie."
Bruce lunges for the clear wall of the cell with a growl. It takes all Hermione has to stop him, such is his strength. As it is, she nearly has to Stun him to stop him.
"Bruce! He's just – ugh – trying to wind you up!"
"Well, it's working!"
"If I may," Jack interjects. "I think we've got some sort of, ah... mis-un-der-stan-ding going on here. Look. I didn't really want her to get killed."
"Then why did you -?" Bruce cuts himself off just in time, before he reveals something unfortunate.
Jack raises a brow. "Why did I -? Why did I what?"
"Why did you blow her up?"
He laughs again. "Because she was Gotham's Assistant Dee Ay. Because Maroni and them wanted her gone. Because I wanted to throw Gotham into a little bit of... chaos."
"Monster!" Bruce roars, and they are back to where they were before.
This time, Hermione does Stun Bruce. She glowers at Jack as her brother slides to the floor. "Jack."
"What?" He sounds like a child who's been slapped on the hand for stealing a cookie in their mother's sight.
"Why are you trying to wind up my brother? You know that I can't get you out of here without his agreement."
"And why is that?"
"Because you'll have nowhere to go. You have to be living with me for your parole, and as much as I... care about you, I don't want to leave Wayne Manor yet."
"Sounds to me like you've both got some growing up to do, doll."
Hermione sighs. "Can you at least try to be civil? I know you don't like Bruce – although why that is is well beyond me – but please try not to make him attack you?"
Jack sighs and chews on his scars for a moment. Then he sighs. "Fine."
Hermione wakes Bruce, and he climbs to his feet, scowling at Jack. "You're still a bastard," he mutters.
"Far as I know, my parents were married," Jack retorts. Hermione rolls her eyes.
"Can we please not do this? I don't want to be stuck here forever while you snipe at each other."
Hermione finally gets Bruce to agree to having Jack, though only on a trial basis – he's out of Arkham and at Wayne Manor every weekend, with the possibility of more visits as time goes by.
On his first night at the Manor, he was visited by an unwelcome – in Hermione's opinion – visitor.
The first she heard of it was the window shattering, which woke her up. Wand raised, she dashed into Jack's room -
To find him and Batman rolling around on the floor, Jack giggling madly as he kneed Batman as hard as he could in the stomach. Batman didn't even flinch before retaliating with a backhand that sent Jack reeling.
"Stop! Stop this right now!"
Neither man listened, merely continuing their fight. Hermione watched Jack take a vicious elbow to the nose which set it to bleeding heavily before she started throwing Stunners.
A moment later, Batman was unconscious on top of Jack, who was still giggling through the blood streaming down his face. "Now that's a Batman!" he said with much wonder, before wriggling to try and get the Caped Crusader's body off of him.
"What happened?" Hermione levitated Batman's body off of Jack and onto the bed, Vanishing the flecks of blood that marred his armor.
"Well, here I was, sleeping peacefully, and all of a sudden here comes Batsy flying in through the window! He started laying into me, and well, I wasn't gonna lay down and take it. So," he shrugged, bouncing on the balls of his feet, "here we are!"
"Ridiculous," she muttered, looking at Batman, before turning her wand on Jack. "Let me fix you up. Episkey."
Jack winced as his nose retook its proper place on his face. "Thanks. Imagine if I had a crooked nose for the rest of my life! It'd ruin my, ah, smashing good looks." He giggled to himself.
Hermione rolled her eyes and turned to the Batman, absently Vanishing Jack's blood from his clothes as she did so. "Ennervate."
Batman woke with a scowl, sitting up as soon as he became accustomed to wakefulness once more. "Ms. Wayne, what is the Joker doing in your house?"
"Exactly what he should be doing. Sleeping. Now get out." She pointed at the window.
He pinned her gaze with his own. "Not until I get him out of here."
Jack raised an eyebrow. "You two know each other?"
"No!" Batman growled, at the same time as Hermione sighed "Yes."
They locked eyes again in a battle of wills. Finally, Batman pulled his gaze away, defeated.
"Yes, we know each other." He reached for his mask, but Jack leapt over to stay his hands.
"No! No no no no no. No. I don't wanna know who you are."
"Are you crazy?"
Jack paused. "I'll, ah, pretend I didn't hear that. Didn't I tell you? I had a vision of a world without you that was so boring I couldn't stand it. And it, ah, it'd be my duty as an up-stand-ing cit-i-zen to turn you in if I knew who you were, now wouldn't it?"
Batman didn't say anything, so Jack let go of his hands in favour of poking him in the chest. "Hello? You in there, Batsy?"
Batman growled. "Stop calling me that."
"Knew you were still alive. I was afraid you'd died of shock."
"Well," Hermione said after a moment of silence, "if you two are finished fighting, I'm going back to bed."
"Night, 'Mione!" Jack called with an utterly false sense of innocence. When the door closed, Hermione leant her back against it, head in hands.
"What have I left them to?"