A/N: First, let me say thank you to everyone who has read, kudo'd, favorited, followed, subscribed, or commented on this story. The HP fanfic community has been such a wonderful place to spend time over the last 3 years. I've had an amazing journey rediscovering this world and I am forever grateful to all of you for being a part of it.
I also want to say thank you again to cheesyficwriter and accio_broom, who helped beta the first half of this fic. I'm sorry that it took me 10 months to sort myself out, but I am so appreciative to have had the opportunity to create together. 3
I don't want to say forever, but I am definitely hanging up my pen on writing for now. This story is such a great one to go out on and represents the culmination of my becoming (what I hope y'all agree is) a much stronger writer than when I started. I'm so proud of everything I've made. And don't worry, I'll still be around, reading the Romione content that the other genius authors on this site publish. :)
Alright, I'll cut the sap and give you what you came for: the very last chapter of The Faith of an Auror.
It was lucky for Hermione and Ron that the cave path they'd been following opened into such a wide cavern. At the centre of it, a small group of hooded figures congregated around something that appeared to be illuminated from within. Hermione tried listening to their animated conversation, but the figures were too far away to distinguish beyond a muffled hum.
Ron and Hermione crept along the walls of the cavern, hiding in the shadows. Ron moved on silent feet, so quiet that Hermione felt like an oaf by comparison. Despite her best efforts, she winced with each small echo of her footsteps, but the hooded figures appeared to be arguing and didn't notice the two latecomers. When they were closer, Ron stopped his progression to crouch behind a large stalagmite. He pointed to his ears and Hermione nodded, sinking beside him and leaning her head against the stone. She closed her eyes, listening for all she was worth.
The voices were muffled. Though she caught pieces of phrases, nothing was meaningful until a single, sharp voice cracked like a whip.
"Enough. Let's begin."
Obediently, the group raised a monotonous chant. Their voices were much easier to discern in combination, and after several moments, Hermione recognized it as a spell. She clenched her hands into fists, doing her best to retain every part of the enchantment, to imprint the details in her memory.
When their voices died away, the walls of the cavern rumbled with clear disapproval. The hooded figures began arguing again.
Ron jerked his head toward the sliver of a passageway a small distance from them. She nodded and they slunk into the shadows, squeezing through the opening. The offshoot of the cavern was small, tucked several metres into the wall and dimly lit by a bioluminescent moss growing on the jagged walls.
Ron kept his voice quiet. "What do you reckon?"
"That was an incredibly complex, experimental spell," she whispered. "I did my best to memorise it; do we have any paper or something I can write on?"
"In the front pocket of your bag."
Both removing the pack and turning around for him to have access to the pocket in question seemed impossible in the small space, but Ron solved the problem by tucking her into his chest. He reached around her and tugged on her bag behind her back, then handed her a small notebook and pen.
She scribbled for a while, crossing some things out and circling others. The spell was designed in five distinct components, using time as a unifying variable. She'd never heard of a team within the Department of Mysteries that'd attempted such a tricky enchantment.
"It doesn't make sense," she whispered, underlining the last phrase.
Ron pointed at the words. "What does that mean?"
"It's a birth, something powerful." She shook her head. "But it doesn't align with the other five parts of the spell. The design doesn't work. It can't be a pyramid, or a line, or even a star. I'm not sure how they're channelling this magic."
She was sure that Ron didn't understand her frustrated stream of consciousness, but he didn't interrupt her. She clicked her tongue.
"Is it the shape that's the issue?" He asked. "Could it be something else? A circle?"
"A circle has no corners."
"But it has points. Like…dots on a line. It exists, doesn't it?"
"That…could work. Give me a moment."
The spell took life under her pen as she scribbled with the fervent attention only intense study and knowledge could bring out in her. When the components of the spell were assembled in a circle, the last remaining phrase she hadn't been able to place, the birth, a rebirth, wove into the pattern with ease. Within minutes she was looking at what she was sure the Unpseakables had been trying to do.
It wasn't good.
"They must have found a source of some kind."
"A source of what?"
Hermione jumped a bit, surprised to hear an answer. She'd been so focused on the problem that she hadn't realised she'd spoken aloud.
Ron waited, expectant.
"It's a concept." She frowned. "Just a theory, really. I've never heard of a real one."
"A real what?"
"Source," she muttered, her eyes still running over the words she's crammed on the paper.
Ron's large hand covered the notes, his fingers drawing her chin up so she met his eye. "Deep breath," he whispered. "I need you to explain."
She took his advice, inhaling to refocus her spinning mind.
"A source of magic," she said. "It's a long-held theory that magic can exist in raw form. Some researchers hypothesise that it can be found in nature this way, restrained to a physical shape but open and free within."
"I'm still not sure I understand."
"Take us, for example." She held up her wand. "We are beings who can channel magic, we maybe even have magic woven into our fabric, but we do not hold magic. There is no place in our bodies where magic is stored, like water in a glass. We cannot pass magic onto other beings."
He rubbed his bead. "But a source could?"
"Yes. Again, this is all theory. But, by its nature of being, a source could, for instance, grant magic to a Squib who'd otherwise been born without."
"That's a nice example," he said. "But I imagine that's not what these Unspeakables are trying to do."
She shook her head. "I can't tell in this short time exactly what they're attempting, but it more or less falls along the lines of giving themselves more power."
"It always comes back to power."
A sense of urgency renewed in her gut. "We can't let the Ministry have it, Ron." She grasped his forearms. "It's bigger than just this. If the Ministry had a source, they could control who has magic at all, let alone how much."
"I know."
They stared at each other in silence, and Hermione winced as the raised voices of the Unspeakables reached them. She'd forgotten how close to danger they stood.
"This must be why they framed you," Ron whispered. "So no one would investigate the surge of magic you recorded."
Hermione was inclined to agree. "And probably why they came here right away. To protect the source on the chance that someone investigated anyway."
She looked out of the thin opening to their hiding space, eyes following the slopes of the walls up to the centre of the cavern ceiling.
"We have to bring it down," she breathed.
He followed her gaze. "The whole cave?"
"Yes."
"Isn't that dangerous?"
"Yes."
"Hmm." His brow furrowed as he considered her plan. "But, even if we collapse the cave, what's to stop them from digging the source out later?"
"It might be possible," she allowed. "I think not, though. We had a saying, back in the Department of Mysteries: actions matter in matters of magic."
"It's about the approach," Ron whispered, eyes wide.
She nodded. "So while they might be able to dig the source out later, it's equally possible that a cave-in will trigger the source to triple down on its natural defences and then become impossible to extricate. Either way," she shrugged. "It'll be protected for a time."
"Alright." He clenched his jaw. "What do you need me to do?"
Her heart fluttered and she gripped his hand. "Keep the Unspeakables preoccupied."
"You got it." He squeezed her fingers.
"You know how many there are? I couldn't tell."
"Four."
He was so confident that she didn't question it. "Can you handle that many?" she asked.
"Of course." His grin bordered on reckless, and, remembering his feral energy from the battle the previous day, Hermione didn't doubt it. "Why wouldn't they just apparate away as soon as we go out there?"
"I don't think they can." She shook her head. "Not in here. Not after all the things protecting this place. I don't think the magic will allow it." She frowned. "The Unspeakables will be able to apparate once they're outside the cave though. I don't know if we'll be able to stop them."
"I have an idea that might help with that." Ron extended his right forearm.
He tapped his wand on a tattoo of a small scroll near the crook in his elbow. The scroll opened and enlarged until it took over most of his inner forearm. He tapped it again, and a message wrote itself inside.
27°11'12.8"S 109°25'44.2"W Against four. Bring backup.
Hermione raised her eyebrows, impressed. "It goes to Harry?" she guessed. Ron nodded.
"How does it know our coordinates?"
"Magic."
If not for their need for silence, Hermione was sure he would have laughed at his own joke. She shook her head, fighting the smile that threatened to break out.
Moments later, the scroll shrank and rolled itself up again.
"That means he's read and received." Ron let out a deep breath. "He'll be here in minutes. It's go-time."
He turned to leave, but she grabbed his arm.
"What?"
"I'm just…" She allowed herself to be lost in his gaze for a moment, a single lingering moment of stillness. "I'm really, really glad that we've learned to trust each other again." She tightened her grip on his bicep.
He tucked a curl behind her ear, feather-light fingers brushing her cheek. "Me too, Hermione. I like knowing you have my back. I have faith in you and our plan."
She nodded, letting the racing of her heart fill her with courage.
Hermione followed him from their hiding space but stopped in a long shadow as Ron continued his approach to the Unspeakables. If she thought he'd been silent before, then this was something else entirely. He was almost on top of the Unspeakables before they noticed him.
He tapped one on the shoulder. "Hello, gents."
His first spell knocked two off their feet.
Hermione rolled her head on her neck, tearing her attention away from the impressive Auror. He was doing his job, and now, she needed to do hers. She scanned the walls of the cavern, identifying six equidistant points around the perimeter.
Plan made, she jogged to the first location and began to trace an intricate rune on the stone floor with her wand. The complex shape commanded her attention, every stroke needing to be exact. Once completed, Hermione whispered, "exitium copia," and the rune glowed silver before she felt a drain on her body.
Though it made her woozy, she took this impact as a sign of success and moved to the second location. She worked her way around the room, and with each completed rune more energy was pulled from her magical reservoir.
Ron was impressive. The four Unspeakables offered much less of a challenge for him than the single stone guardian had. Hermione was sure it'd been years since the Unspeakables had needed to duel, but even four against one, they couldn't touch Ron. He was a lithe, graceful machine, in constant motion and casting spells, not losing ground despite being outnumbered.
The echoes of many shouted incantations bounced around the cavern, layers of noise that jumbled her senses. Each rune weakened the integrity of the cave, so by the time she'd completed the sixth one, the walls shook with the byproducts of the battle.
She stumbled against a wall, catching her breath with the strain of holding so many spells in stasis at once. She needed to breathe, just a few minutes…but a curse zipped much too closely past Ron and she urged her body forward, continuing her sluggish journey to the centre of the room.
"Hey," she shouted, attracting the Unspeakables' attention and drawing a quick ceasefire to the duel. She was sure her grin was deranged as she kept her focus on holding the six runes in place while letting the final spell fill her up. She put her arms out wide. "Time to run. DIMITTUS!"
She brought her fists together above her head. Six beams of silver light burst from the runes and met in the centre of the cavern ceiling in a violent explosion that vibrated the cave. Hermione sank to her knees as the sound of rumbling rocks grew louder, vaguely registering the Unspeakables running from the cavern. Large boulders fell around her, deadly on impact, but she was so spent from the spell that she couldn't force her legs to stand.
Strong arms picked her up, and she tucked her head into Ron's neck as he wound through the falling debris, as strong and fast as he'd been when he'd started the battle. The last thing she remembered was his final burst of speed through the cave mouth and into the sunshine before she succumbed to unconsciousness.
When she next awoke, she was tucked into a small cot inside a makeshift tent. She blinked bleary eyes and pushed herself into a sitting position.
"Hey there."
Ron was smiling at her, and she was relieved to see that he looked healthy.
"Hi," she returned. "Did Harry make it?"
"Yes. The four Unspeakables were arrested after our escape." His eyes twinkled with mischief. "And so were you, incidentally, for a few minutes, but we were able to get it all sorted." He leaned his forearms on his knees. "How are you feeling?"
"Drained." She shook her head experimentally. "Still pretty dizzy."
A loud throat clear came from just beyond the tent flap, and Ron frowned at it.
"Let me guess," Hermione sighed. "An interrogation?"
He jerked his head.
She spent the next two hours talking to Aurors and other members of Magical Law Enforcement, discussing the events that led up to the Unspeakables' arrest. She left out all the details about the Druids, making it sound as though she'd convinced Ron of her innocence by playing on his sentiment. Most of the people she talked to brushed over this omission, and she assumed Ron must have told them something similar. She explained her work at the Department of Mysteries in detail to several different interrogators, an offence that was fireable in and of itself. She spoke until her throat was raw and she requested a glass of water.
It was then that Ron stormed back into the tent. "She's been framed, arrested, hunted, and nearly killed over the course of the last week," he fumed. "That's enough. She's innocent and you know it." He pointed at the exit. "Get. Out."
Ron must have held rather more influence than he let on by describing himself as a 'bounty hunter,' because everyone left the tent at once. Hermione made a mental note to ask him about it later, but for now, she was too tired.
"Is Harry…here?" she asked, hating how small she sounded. Ron nodded, though he said nothing else. She sighed. Despite wanting nothing more than to take a nap, she swung her wobbly legs out of the bed and attempted to stand. "I suppose I owe him an apology as well, don't I? No time like the present to get started on my atonement tour."
In two long steps, Ron wrapped her in his arms. She froze, pleased, but unsure of what had caused this unexpected affection. He took a step back, supporting her by the shoulders and surveying her face.
"Why don't we get you back to your flat today?" His voice was a rumble in her chest. "Harry is quite busy at the moment, and there will be time for all that later."
She looked towards the tent flap, indecisive. "Are you sure? I don't want him to think I disappeared without saying anything. Again."
"Yeah." Ron pointed at an old running shoe on a pedestal table. "We had that special arranged for you. Should take you straight to your complex."
"Can you come with me?" The words escaped her before she could censor them, and her face grew hot as he shook his head.
"I need to stay. We're going to process the Unspeakables and do all the paperwork to be sure your innocence and status are documented."
"Oh."
It was hard to say why she was so disappointed. Did she expect him to go back to her flat with her today? But then, they'd been no more than ten metres apart for most of the last week, the magic handcuffs had assured that. It was strange to think of leaving him.
"Hey," he said, running his calloused fingers along her jaw. She tried to ignore the stinging in her eyes and looked up at him. "Would you want to get dinner with me?"
She let out a watery laugh, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and burying her face in his chest. "What?" she asked, voice muffled. "Like a date?"
"Fuck yes, Hermione." She half cried, half laughed, and he cupped her cheek. "Definitely yes," he murmured. "It's a date."
His gentle kiss made her heart hitch in her throat, and her nerve endings, already strung out, exploded with hyper-awareness of his touch.
"I'll come by soon with your phone, okay, love?" He pulled on her hand, helping her walk towards the portkey. "You've had a very busy last few days. Go rest, Hermione."
It was hard to believe that it'd been only a few days ago that he'd shown up at her door. Maybe he was right. It'd been a very emotional time. She nodded, letting the portkey take her home.
Hermione lifted her wine glass, sipping on it as she leaned back in her chair. Ron was regaling her with a story of one of his and Harry's old missions, and though it gave her a pang of sadness to be confronted with all that she'd missed, she was endlessly thankful to not have to miss a second more.
The date was thus far, in a word, perfect. Ron had showed up with flowers, looking so amazing that she'd been tempted to borrow one of his expletives. The restaurant was delicious, though nicer than what they'd been able to afford a decade ago. Being on a date with Ron again was…well she was sure that she didn't deserve it, but she cherished sharing this evening with him.
"What about you, then?" he asked, and she blushed, hoping he hadn't caught her staring at him in adoration. He smirked as though he might have, but rephrased his question anyway. "Are you still working for the Ministry?"
"No, no. Not at all." She waved a hand, her vehement head shake insufficient to convey her feelings. "I've had enough of that for a lifetime. I quit."
"Good for you." He tipped his glass to her. "What's next then, for the amazing Hermione Granger?"
She knew that a huge grin overtook her face upon the question, but she found that these days, anytime she considered her future, she couldn't control the physical elation of her body. "I honestly don't know." She beamed. "Isn't that wonderful?"
He laughed, a deep infectious sound that made her chest purr and intense nostalgia overtook her. When was the last time she'd heard that sound, truly? At least ten years.
"I think I'll go stay with my parents for a while," she pressed on. "Maybe see my cousins. Grovel some more at the Potters' house. The sky's the limit. It's fantastic."
"Ginny will come around," he assured her. "She said just the other day that I was being less of a prat than usual. Eventually she'll realise that you're the reason."
"It's fine, Ron. I'll take every second of grovelling I can get. Happily."
He laughed again, and her heart couldn't take any more of it.
"Have we paid the check?" she asked, and he nodded. "Can we go?"
He raised his brows, surprised. "You want to leave?"
"I'd like to go to my place if that's ok." She maintained eye contact. "Together."
Ron drained his glass and stood. "Let's go."
Once back at her flat, though, Hermione's nerves got the best of her. She busied herself by pouring more wine and then insisting on hanging their coats. When she entered her living room for the second time, Ron was sitting on her couch, waiting.
Merlin, he looked so good. The sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up, reminding Hermione of just how much she liked his new tattoos. His tall frame and broad shoulders were enormous on her couch, and his eyes were just a touch too dark as they surveyed her from above his well-groomed, auburn beard.
She froze, not knowing whether to sit next to him or on the chair. He reached for her, and she followed his lead, moving to stand between his legs, their fingers intertwined.
"This is weird, right?" she blurted out. "I don't know if we should pick up where we left off or start all over again."
"Well, it's a bit unorthodox, yeah." His intense gaze lit her on fire. "There's no pressure though."
She drank her wine, then put her glass on the coffee table. "I want this," she admitted. "I want you. But I think it's important that you know why."
Gulping, strengthening her resolve, she slid her knees on either side of his waist and settled her weight onto the couch, straddling him. He set aside his own wine glass as though in a trance, tickling his large hands along her thighs, his touch as light as a whisper, before settling on her hips.
Heat was already building between her legs. Nobody had ever looked at her quite like that.
She settled her fingers on his shoulders, running her hands down his arms, feeling his every muscle.
"If you have something to say, you better make it quick." His voice was husky and she pulsed with anticipation.
"All the old things, the feelings I had for you. It's all here." She pressed one of his palms against her chest, and he sucked in a breath as he felt her. She smirked and whispered in his ear, delighting in his shiver. "But I feel new things too." She flicked open the top button of his shirt. "In the week we were on the run together, I saw glimpses of who you are now." She undid another button, then braced herself to meet his gaze.
The grey starbursts of his eyes stood stark against the deepest shade of blue, and he watched her hungrily. "I liked what I saw, and I'd like the chance to get to see more." Another button.
Ron raised his other hand to her chest, cupping both her breasts. "You are a strong-willed, courageous, brilliant, caring, sexy woman."
Before she registered what was happening, Ron stood, gripping her bum as she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist. His large hand tangled in her wild curls as he pulled her in for a fervent kiss. She broke away, dizzy, and when he whispered in her ear it sent a tingle down her spine.
"It'd be my honour, love."