Chapter Nineteen

The rest of Saturday was spent reading the stolen journals until her eyes hurt. Sadly, no matter how much she read, Hermione was no closer to finding out more about the gold ring than she already knew. Either Igor borrowed the wrong books in his haste to enter the manor without being caught or the information they desired wasn't to be found written down anywhere. It was a sobering reality they had to face that the details about how the ring was a key and what it unlocked could be lost forever to time.

Eventually, after a long nap that helped calm his frustrations, Igor was able to return to the kitchen that evening to resume his own efforts in solving the mystery. Hermione hoped that another pair of eyes might see something she missed. It was a fruitless hope. Either Igor's ancestor was deliberate in his efforts to hide the truth or someone else since his time wished to conceal the exact functions of the family heirloom. Both of them felt lost that they couldn't find out more. The answers seemed just out of reach, taunting them into aggravation.

Late Saturday night Igor could take no more. Between them both every written word was read at least once. They learned a great deal about his ancestor's dangerous experiments that worried his wife so severely, but little else. Nothing about a key. To show in the most dramatic fashion that he was done reading for the night, Igor plucked the journal she was reading out of her hand and threw it across the kitchen.

"Igor! What are you doing?"

He didn't say a single word to answer her question. Just used his arm to sweep all of the other books off the table into a heap on the floor. Worried at first that the wizard lost his mind, Hermione was ready to scream at him to calm down until his lips crashed against hers. Taken entirely surprise by his passionate and hungry kiss, she didn't even realize he was picking her up until her back was on the kitchen table. Not that she minded one single bit. Especially not when he removed the clothes covering her bottom half in a single determined tug, stepped between her legs, and distracted them both with more pleasurable pursuits.

Sunday was spent almost entirely in bed with only short breaks to check on his potions. It was a delightful way to spend the rest of the weekend. She found him much more bearable to be around when he wasn't speaking and otherwise had his tongue engaged. Of course she still wasn't ready to think any nice thoughts about him as a person. No, that was going too far. He was still an odious pest she couldn't wait to get rid of no matter how well he could make her pant and scream out for more.

By Monday morning Hermione had very little desire to return to the Ministry. Weekends never felt so short before. She woke up in an empty bed almost as if the previous day and half hadn't happened at all. It might have been insulting that her lover appeared to waste no time running as far away from her as possible if she actually liked spending time with him and being in his company. She didn't. After careful consideration in the shower she took alone, she decided that it was better that he not get too attached. That would be awkward later on when they parted ways.

An unnerving feeling settled in her stomach when she entered the Employee Entrance at the Ministry for Magic later that morning. Something didn't feel right or maybe she didn't feel right. She couldn't explain it. Likely she had spent too much time with her head in a madman's journal. Despite how impressive his feats of magic might have been, there was no doubt in Hermione's mind that Igor's ancestor was something of a dangerous lunatic. Only insane people would go to the lengths he did to test magic and its boundaries. If he accomplished half of what he claimed in his journal, there would be no conceivable way that she wouldn't find a thick file about him tucked away in the dustiest part of the Ministry Archives.

There was a temptation to push aside the work she was actually being paid for the make her way to the Archives on Level Ten to search for anything she could find herself. Only the doubt that she would learn more about the ring than she already did kept her in her office where she belonged. What would be the point in continuing a search that would yield no results? She wasn't quite that bored or desperate yet.

Even though she stayed inside her office her mind wandered. Thoughts of the mostly pleasurable weekend brought a smirk to her lips even as her cheeks burned with the debauched memories she couldn't turn off. Even if it was Igor she was with, she couldn't deny that it had been a great deal of fun. Maybe they could replay that moment on the kitchen table again or the one on the floor of her bedroom when they slid off the sheets. What was he doing at that moment? He probably was peering over a cauldron or slicing up ingredients for another potion.

As soon as she started to think about the mundanity of Igor's workday brewing illicit potions in her spare bedroom, she chastised herself for thinking about him at all. What did it matter what he was doing? She certainly didn't care. All she cared about was that he was able to sell some of his brews to be able to put some galleons down on a deposit for a new flat. She would gladly help him pack all of his belongings after he paid her back for them, of course. The sooner he was out of her life, the happier she would be. He only brought her complications that she didn't need.

When most of her Level emptied out of their offices and cubicles to seek out their lunch, she got up from her desk to walk down to the Ministry canteen. Sitting in her office pretending to work while she couldn't get her mind off of her unintentional flatmate would only drive her mad. Besides, he'd been avoiding her that morning so a hot breakfast never made its way into her belly. She might not care for the man, but she couldn't deny that he knew how to cook.

With her tray in hand, she nearly bumped into the Minister for Magic as she tried to find an empty table. There were plenty available thanks to the horrible sickness keeping a large number of their workforce at home or in St. Mungo's. Kingsley always greeted her with a warm smile no matter how stressed out he was or serious the situation was she found him in. It was nice to have a constant in her life when everything else felt like it was spinning out of control.

"Is that the Great and Powerful Minister for Magic himself slumming it in the Ministry's canteen with all of the unimportant worker bees?"

Kingsley only rolled his eyes dramatically as he set his own tray down at an empty table and invited her to join him with a wave of his hand. She didn't hesitate to accept. Dear friends since even before the night they fought against Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters on the back of a thestral, they hadn't had a chance to talk in recent weeks. There had been too much work, too many other concerns to occupy their time to allow for even a friendly cup of tea in his office like she'd had countless times before.

"I don't care what my job is, I'm not too good to sit amongst my colleagues and enjoy a slice of… well, whatever this meat is that they are serving today."

"Had a better offer and they cancelled at the last second?"

His laughter was an antidote to any poor mood. She'd loved hearing the sound since back in the days when they were in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place as the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. He was the sort of person who would brighten the room and make his friends forget why they'd been upset in the first place.

"Oh, yes, of course. I had plans to have lunch at Buckingham Palace with the Muggle Queen. Unfortunately, she must've come down with a slight cold and I had to settle for mystery meat pie and you."

"How dreadful for you. I'm so sorry you've had quite the disappointment today."

He winked.

"No, it's just more convenient to eat here than try to leave the building. There's too much to do. My assistant has been out sick for two weeks and I'm regretting every single time I've lost my temper with her in the past ten years."

"To be fair, it's very easy for her to get on anyone's nerves. I don't know why you continue to use her as your assistant. Surely the Unspeakables have need of test subjects in their potions lab downstairs."

Kingsley only laughed.

"I've never understood what it was about my poor assistant that you never liked. She's perfectly lovely."

"Hardly. I would gladly list out all of the reasons I cannot stand the sight of that woman but like you said, there's too much work to do and neither of us can afford to sit here for hours while I tell you."

He might have laughed again, but she was absolutely serious. His assistant was an idiot and that was probably the kindest way Hermione could describe her. They had had problems for years, ever since Hermione accepted a job in the Ministry. The day the assistant lost her job for being stupid, a possibility that surely had to happen at some point, there would be a number of officials who would be more than happy to help her pack and escort her out the front door.

"We will all be back to normal soon, I believe. The dragon pox has gone through its cycle and run its course. Most of the sick are slowly returning to work again."

Hermione wished she could be as optimistic as Kingsley about the state of their coworkers' health. Returning to some semblance of normality would be wonderful. Being expected to only be responsible for completing her own workload and not three or four at once was something she had taken for granted during easier times.

For a couple of minutes the old friends picked at their respective meals as their minds wandered. There was a lot that Hermione wished she could talk over with Kingsley. He had been a friendly listening ear for nearly half her life. She trusted his guidance and appreciated his insight. What would he think if he knew about the whole Igor situation? Would he encourage it or have her locked up in St. Mungo's for observation? She didn't think he would send her to Azkaban to harboring a Death Eater fugitive, but she didn't really know for certain.

"Kingsley, may I ask you a theoretical question?"

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. He wasn't the sort of person to let her change her mind and just drop the subject. No, he was far too much of a curious gossip to let that happen. He wiped his mouth with his napkin before smiling.

"Please do. I enjoy your theoretical questions."

"If a known criminal who died was somehow brought back from the dead, would they still be arrested for the crimes they committed when they were alive the first time?"

"That is an interesting question. Let me give it some thought."

He leaned back in his chair to fully consider her question. The entire time he was quiet she only grew more nervous. Why would she be bold enough to ask such a ridiculous question? People didn't exactly return from the dead. Not unless they once owned a mysterious, ugly gold ring that was. Would Kingsley think she was insane? Working too much? In need of a long break? Maybe she was and maybe she could.

"Most criminal investigations end when the suspect died so I would think they they would be free as long as they didn't commit any new crimes."

She was hoping that would be his assessment. If Kingsley said 'once a criminal, always a criminal', she would've been worried about what might happen if it was ever widely known that Igor was alive again. While he didn't technically follow Lord Voldemort during the second war, there would be plenty of people who would call for him to be arrested simply because he had once been a Death Eater.

"Why would you ask a question like that?"

The wizard could be far too perceptive in her opinion. Often she missed the days when her two closest male companions were unobservant enough that they probably wouldn't even notice if her hair was on fire. There was an amused twinkle in Kingsley's eye as he waited for her answer. At least she could be confident enough that the truth was so outlandish he probably wouldn't believe her if she told him. Not at first at any rate. She waved her hand as if it was nothing important.

"Just a ridiculous book I'm reading. The heroine accidentally cast a spell to bring a criminal back from the dead who was supposedly her one true soulmate. It's rubbish really and I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I've been reading it at all."

"I'm surprised to hear you're reading a book like that. Doesn't sound like something you'd enjoy."

"I read novels too sometimes. It's not all just boring technical manuals or history books for me."

"I'm sure you do, but I've never pictured you as someone who believes in soulmates. Now, hopeless romantic that I am, I'd like to believe we all have a special person out there. Hope makes the coldest night just a little warmer."

Their conversation had to end there as they already lingered longer over their meal than they planned. Work was waiting for them both. After promising they wouldn't wait so long again between chats, the two friends went their separate ways back to their own desks.

For the rest of the day, no matter how hard she tried to stay focused on what she was supposed to be doing, Hermione couldn't stop thinking about Igor. It was frustrating that he just kept popping into her mind. With Kingsley's answer to her preposterous question, she had something new to obsess about. Was his answer what she wanted to hear? That they would have an actual chance to be together if he was revealed to be alive? She couldn't believe she was even entertaining the idea. What happened to her adamant feelings that she would be glad to see the back of him once and for all? Was she truly that fickle? A few delightful encounters while naked didn't make a future.

It was much later than she intended when she finally decided to end her day. All of the frequent interruptions as her mind wandered meant that it was late in the evening. She'd lost track of time. Most of the other officials in the building had gone home hours earlier. Even as she made her way to the Employee Entrance her mind was still distracted. Would she be brave, or foolish, enough to tell Igor about the conversation she had with the Minister? She didn't even know how she would begin that conversation. Perhaps just telling him that she didn't think the Minister for Magic would immediately call for his arrest could offer him some sort of hope about his future. Or at least make him less afraid to have other people see that he was alive again.

There was no one just outside the building when she exited. The sun was long gone that time of year. A chill settled on her the moment she felt the cool air. Winter would be there before she was ready for it. Would Igor still be there? Still be in her flat and occasionally still in her bed? She wished that Divination wasn't complete rubbish and she could get her answers if she looked inside one of those damned crystal balls.

Just a few meters outside of the exit she tried to make a step forward when her feet wouldn't move. Feeling as if she was somehow trapped up to her ankles in a thick sticky substance, she looked down at the ground to see what she might have stumbled into with her mind so distracted. A puddle of thick goo that might have been some sort of industrial glue was her answer. Confused why it would be on the ground, she stared at it for a couple of seconds to try to figure out if she was really seeing it. She was exhausted after all. Was someone careless enough to spill the substance and just leave it? Were they even aware there was a mess left behind?

She had her hand in her pocket grasping the end of her wand to clear away the rubbish when she felt the hands grab her from behind. Realizing perhaps too late that the glue was no accident, she tried not to panic. All that would do was make the situation much worse. Above all, she had to keep a cool head.

Her attacker didn't say a word and she wasn't able to get a good look at them either to her immense frustration. It could've been a simple robbery. Unfortunately, the magical world wasn't immune to petty crimes even in a time of relative peace since the war ended. The beast also took her strength and skills for granted. Likely that was all that saved her life or the few galleons she had in her pocket.

With some swift spell work, she was able to release her feet from the sticky substance, curse the hands off her body, and send a powerful stunner in the direction of the perpetrator. It should've been enough to knock them to the pavement until an auror could be called from inside the building to arrest them for daring to touch her. If they hadn't been easily startled and quickly Disapparated away when they realized she had access to her wand, it might have worked. Seeing the empty spot where she knew they should've been standing, Hermione knew it was time to leave. She had to get to safety first. A report could be filed later.

It was only when she pushed open her front door and stepped inside the sanctuary of her own home that she could relax again. The full weight of what just happened to her hit all at once.

"Well, I had a beautiful soufflé ready, but since you were late…"

Igor's frustration at her unexpected tardiness ruining his meal morphed instantly into concern when he saw how pale her face had grown. Only one look at her told him that something terrible had just happened.

"Hermione, what..?"

She didn't mean to burst into tears. It was embarrassing to show him that sort of emotion when she usually worked so hard to keep her crying fits to the privacy of her own bedroom where no one else could seem them. Between her cries she tried to explain what just happened. Igor was worried. Quite without thinking about the potential ramifications of his own actions, he wrapped his arms around her back to pull her against him to offer what little comfort he could. The gesture was sweet. It was also impossible to ignore how safe she felt in his arms.