A/N:
Hello,
And, welcome to Chapter Ten of RWIF.
As with all my Authors notes introductions I would like to thank all of you who have taken the time to favourite, follow, and/or review. I'd also like to thank those of you who are reading this story still, who are still following along in this tale.
That means so much more to me than you will ever realise.
Also, big shout out that we hit 300 follows. That's absolutely and positively enthralling that that many people would chose to follow the progress of this story. So thanks. You made what was otherwise a very tough week so much more bearable.
I'd just like to say that this chapter was meant to come out earlier, but I decided to hold off. I wanted to make sure that this chapter fit in with the chapters that followed, because some big scenes are coming that I have put a lot of pressure on myself to write. This chapter sets many of those scenes up. I want to makes sure I am happy with them before I post them.
By way of progress, I am currently about half way through Chapter Thirteen, but as I said, I want to make sure the scenes are done right and I am happy with them before I post.
Cheers,
ATG
PS: To the Poms, I'm sorry for the parts I get wrong about your homeland. I'm not from there, so I'm doing my best.
PPS: I apologise for the editing errors. I do my best.
PPPS: Work has kicked back into gear for me and I am likely to be busy for a while. But I shall endeavor to have the next chapters out as soon as they are ready.
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Chapter Ten
Tuesday 4th September 2012
Detective Superintendent Thompson approached the pub with his customary curiosity. A uniformed bobby was standing at the front door, his arms clasped behind his back, carefully watching the almost deserted streets for signs of trouble.
He saw the bobby turn and look at him as he approached.
"Evening, Detective Superintendent, Sir." Said the man, formally.
"Good evening, Son. Is Detective Inspector Piddle around?"
"Yes sir, you'll find him inside talking to the publican, sir."
"Thank you." Rufus said as he entered the pub.
What he found inside was incredibly, well, normal. The pub looked exactly like the pub should look. There was no sign of trouble, no sign of a disturbance, nothing. If anything, it looked like a massive waste of Police resources.
Rufus saw that DI Piddle was talking to a very confused publican, who seemed to be very surprised to have a litany of uniformed, plain clothes and forensic Police scouring his pub.
As he looked around the pub, DI Piddle walked over to him.
"Evening, Sir." Said Paul, professionally.
"Good evening, Paul," replied Rufus. "As you are very well aware that the Sir's aren't necessary. You are a commissioned officer now." Rufus lightly admonished him.
"It's a respect thing, Sir." Said Paul, again, professionally.
Rufus shook his head. "Why did you call me down here?"
Paul looked over his shoulder and guided Rufus over to the corner of the pub out of earshot. From the look in his eye, Rufus immediately knew he was about to hear something interesting.
"It's one of those jobs, sir." Paul said, glancing around. "Call comes in from the Publican's landline yeah? Says something about a large blue going on in the pub. Says that there are men here with guns and wooden sticks and the like, having a go at each other, proper rioting."
Rufus looked around, not a chair was out of place, not a piece of broken glass, nothing. The whole pub looked as clean as if it has just opened.
"Call taker hears what appears to be yelling in the background, sounds of a disturbance. She then hears several things. Sound like breaking glass. Substantial breaking glass. Then the sounds of gunshots. Next thing she hears is screeching tyres."
Rufus just nodded.
"Well, first patrol turns up a minute and a half later." Rufus gave him a look. "Understaffing, sir. This area is considered quiet and therefore is a low priority for flatfooting."
Rufus nodded.
"They find nothing. The pub looks as you see it now sir. No signs of a disturbance. Publican says he never called Police and that the only two customers he's had all night are the happy couple over with the detectives now. They say same thing."
"Could have been the telly, Paul."
"Right, you are sir. Could have been. Anyway, young Constable sees himself as a bit of a Sherlock Holmes type yeah, has a bit of a dig around. Doesn't like what he is hearing, says that the publican has slurred speech and glazed eyes. Almost looks like he's been sampling his own wares."
Rufus nodded again. Interested now.
"Makes the publican blow in the bag right, getting ready to issue an infringement for serving liquor to the intoxicated persons while intoxicated himself. Blows clean. The happy couple too, despite them behaving in the same manner as you like."
"Drugs?"
"Maybe Sir, but if he was on them, he's sobered up now. There are other issues, see. They do a compliance check of the CCTV and the incident log. CCTV cuts out thirty minutes before the incident, and cuts back in just as the uniforms arrive."
Rufus didn't like that. To do that kind of slicing took time and skill. Much more time than the 90 seconds that it could have been done in.
"But it leads to a bit of investigative work from the uniforms, which really we oughta thank them for."
"What did they find?"
"They find some oddities. Seems our young investigator just joined the Met fresh out of the Paratroopers sir. He finds a hole in the ground, and this."
With that, the Detective Inspector produced an evidence bag, inside was a highly damaged and crumpled bullet.
"Find's it wedged in the floor, right here."
Paul walked over and showed Rufus where he was pointing.
"He calls it in, but a few other discoveries were made along the way, sir."
"Discoveries?"
"Well Sir, this is a 7.62mm hollow point rifle round. It's proper military. Not commonly seen amongst even the criminal underbelly of Jolly Old, as its damned hard to get your hands on. I don't need to tell you that most 7.62mm weapons aren't exactly concealable and aren't like used by your standard criminal type looking for a shooting. "
Rufus could see what he was getting at.
"Another thing, ballistics over there worked out the angle of the shooter. He'd have to be damned near as big as me and to have lifted the gun above his head to produce that sort of angle, unless the gun was fired into the ground like this."
Paul held his hand out to his side, off his body, and pointed a finger like holding a gun.
"Thoughts on that, Paul?"
"Sniper sir. Marksman. Judging from the lack of blood and bodies, a miss, or a warning shot maybe. Dunno. The glass is still intact and there are no holes in it, so fired inside is a reasonable alternative, however…"
Rufus looked at him. "Go on."
"Smell that?"
"Smell what?"
"Exactly, sir. Someone fires a weapon of that calibre inside this pub in the last hour and you will still smell the cordite. No smell, I think the shooter was outside. Further, the call taker says they heard several, softer gunshots from outside. Nothing from inside."
Rufus looked thoughtful. "Suppressor?"
Paul shook his head. "Ain't no suppressor known to man that's keeping a weapon of that calibre that quiet."
Rufus nodded again. "What other discoveries?"
Paul again reached into his coat and pulled out another evidence bag.
"This sir."
Rufus looked in the evidence bag. It contained a small green cylinder. Well, it had been a cylinder. It looked like it had lettering on the side, that had been marred and was unreadable.
"And what am I looking at Paul?"
"Well sir, I ain't seen one of these since my SO19 days. But that right there in a rubber bullet. A slug more like, fired from a shotgun. I ain't never in all my years seen a criminal use one of those."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning I reckon that, coupled with the rifle bullet, implies there might have been some government work here. Something shady happened. But there's too many irregularities."
Paul indicated towards Rufus and led him out of the pub and to the corner.
He shone his torch on the brick corner of the pub.
"See those?"
"Riccochets?"
"Precisely my thinking Sir. He pulled out another evidence bag holding three shell casings.
"9mm. No way of telling what firearm they came from, 9mm is being the most common calibre of handgun around."
Rufus started thinking fast. This was indeed, another one of those.
"What about the bigger hole?" Rufus asked.
"Another 7.62mm hollow point." Paul replied. "Ballistics matched it to across the way." Paul pointed across the open square to a series of office buildings across the way. "Have to wait for the lab results to determined if they are fired from the same weapon, but I'd bet my first born on it, sir."
"Tell me more about the sticks."
Paul smiled. "Was thinking you wouldn't ask. Call taker says he heard the publican yelling that several people had pulled small sticks, called 'em that exactly, word-for-word. Starts going on that they are waving them around like billy clubs. Reminds me of a few cases we worked a decade ago."
Rufus nodded. His mind turning back to the days when bodies would turn up clutching little wooden sticks. Many of the bodies were in perfectly fine health, except for the whole 'dead' thing.
"I'd like to listen to the recording."
"I'd be liking that aswell, Sir. Only issue is. Didn't record."
"What?"
"Didn't record. I already given them a severe tongue lashing about it. Legislative provisions and all. Freak accident in the software, they reckon."
Just as they were speaking, he could see three dark coloured BMW's driving slowly down the road towards him. He knew what that meant.
"Paul," he said, turning quickly to the large man. "You still got that contact that contracts the public CCTV footage?"
Paul nodded. "Already contacted him, sir. Police operations had the same failure as the pub. Exact same timings too. So, I contacted him. He's burning the hidden back up footage as we speak. I told him to give it to no one but me."
Not for the first time was Rufus glad of Pauls quick thinking.
"Paul, you know what's about to happen with those cars, don't you?"
Paul nodded, a scowl crossing his face.
"We need that footage, Paul."
"Already on it, sir." Paul said as he turned on his heel and moved quickly to his own car, parked on the street.
Rufus turned around as three vehicles pulled up.
Men and women in immaculate suits stepped out and approached the confused Uniform bobby at the door of the pub. The first man pulled identification out from inside his jacket pocket.
"MI5, Constable, we need to speak with the ranking Officer."
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Wednesday 4th September, 2012
"You do realise that I work normal hours, right?" Hermione fixed him with her most unimpressed glare that she could manage, for having been roused from her bed to deal with this.
"Sorry Hermione, that I didn't get injured during your clinical hours, but you being here saves me a trip to St Mungo's. It saves Luna worrying, and it saves Mum barrelling in in a storm of kisses that I really can't handle right now." Ron grimaced as he spoke.
"I do find it interesting that you think you'll be able to hide this from Luna." She said distractedly as she examined Ron's torso. She cast a quick diagnostic charm and saw that his ribs were floating. Whatever had caused the enormous bruise to his side had broken several of them, causing them to sway with his breath.
It looked painful. It must have hurt something fierce. The pain potion must have been doing him wonders.
"What were you actually doing to earn this?" Hermione asked, unimpressed as she examined the black bruising that almost covered his ribs on his right-hand side.
"Auror business, Hermione."
Hermione glanced around the deserted Auror muster room.
"Really?" she said casually, reaching out and poking him in the bruise with her wand. He hissed and blanched from the pain. "Merlin, Hermione. Leave it out!"
Hermione looked up and saw the previously concerned, turned entertained looks from the Aurors on Ron's team. Most of them had never seen him humbled so. They had always seen him as their Team Leader. Not that he wasn't funny, but he never let his façade of toughness drop.
Now they saw the real Ron. Ron humbled by the presence of his brown-haired best friend.
"He got shot." It was the dark-haired man they called Drisco that spoke. Ron shot him an unimpressed glower.
"Shot?" Hermione glanced up at the dark-haired man who looked continually bored. "Shot?"
She fixed Ron with her most unimpressed glare.
"And why, pray tell, were you shot Ronald Weasley?"
Hermione heard a snicker from behind her from the young pretty woman on his team. Ron shot her the same look that he had shot the dark-haired male.
Finally, Ron broke, clearly hemmed in from all sides.
"We were doing a job, trying to cover a meeting between a Death Eater and a muggle. These other blokes were covering the meeting too, turns out. Anyway, they were muggles we reckon, but they got the jump on us. One of them shot me with a gun, and, Merlin Hermione, it hurts, but I didn't die. Merlin only knows why. It wasn't from any of our magical intervention, I'll tell you that." Ron did not look happy to have to admit such information.
"You were shot by a rubber bullet, Ronald." Hermione said simply.
The other members of the team looked at her curiously.
"Let me guess, none of you grew up muggle?"
They all shook their heads.
Hermione sighed. How they looked down upon Muggles, yet here Ron sat having seen what they could do.
"Or have even bothered to open a book about them?"
Again, they shook their heads.
"Tell me exactly how you came to be shot, Ron."
He took a deep breath, which hurt. Then he looked up at Hermione and saw that expression. That expression that said she would not change her mind.
He let out a sigh, which also hurt.
"They attacked us. We weren't ready. None of us even had a chance. Drisco got knocked out cold by one of them with a single well aimed punch. Van Guereck basically got attacked by a giant. Jones nearly copped a couple of bullets himself. I tried to stop them, but they pulled up in a muggle van. There was this bloke in a mask, before I could do a thing, he shot me with one of them 'shotguns', I think they are called." Ron refused to look at Hermione.
Hermione picked up on that. He was embarrassed. Embarrassed of his failure. But not just that, he was embarrassed that he had been shown up by a group of muggles. Hermione was also pleasantly surprised that the Corps of Aurors was at least taking the time to teach them about the basics of Muggle weaponry.
"Definitely a less lethal round than." Hermione said absently. She then pointed her wand at Ron's chest and cast an incantation.
"Also, are you Drisco?" Hermione turned her eyes to the bored looking dark haired Auror. He nodded.
"Sit down for me please, I'll have to do a scan on your head. Getting knocked out isn't the joke it used to be. Any headaches?"
He shrugged.
"Right, I'll be with you in a moment."
"What do you mean about the less lethal round then?" asked another Auror, one with long brown hair who had previously identified himself as Jones.
"Well, this is the problem with Wizards. We don't respect the Muggle capacity for battle. Muggles have been waging large scale wars on each other for thousands of years. They have it down to an art. They now have untold capacity to cause mass destruction upon each other."
Hermione shuddered before continuing, remembering the stories her father had hinted at from the Falklands. And the stories her grandfather had told from the Second World War.
"And because we have magic, we drastically underestimate their ability to touch us. We think because we can cast curses, jinxes and charms, not to mention, anti-muggle wards, that we are protected. The problem with that thinking is it completed underestimates the ambition and technology that the muggles can bring to bear. They are numerous and they are sophisticated. Their firearms can do a lot of damage. As you have just learnt Ron."
Hermione hesitated, thinking about a certain 'muggle' with raven hair and the damage she had no doubt that he could do.
Surely not.
"The shotgun that shot Ron likely fired a rubber bullet. It is not designed to kill you, only to incapacitate you. Hence why Ron has suffered some broken ribs. Muggles normally use that kind of ammunition when they are trying to quell public disorder. When they are faced with a situation that doesn't require them to kill, whereby the use what they call 'live' ammunition. Think of a rubber bullet like a Muggle equivalent of a stunning charm. Did any of you manage to find the bullet that struck Ron?"
They all looked at each other. Finally, it was Jones who spoke.
"We didn't have much time. Muggle Police were coming. We scooped up our people, obliviated the witnesses and cameras and got out of there. We of course repaired the obvious damage." He looked embarrassed.
"Right." Said Hermione thoughtfully. "Well, chances are that you encountered muggles working for the government then."
"See, this is all part of the problem. We are so reliant on magic, it does everything for us. If muggles see things, we obliviate them. We just remove the memory. We use our magic to let ourselves get around and do whatever we want to Muggles. And effectively, there are very few ramifications.
You Auror Corps types are out chasing evil wizards, leaving anything but major crimes against muggles to a severely underfunded Ministry department. But you just don't realise what you are doing. What you are messing with.
We all know that muggle repelling charms can stop most muggles, but not all. Particularly strong-willed types are able to overcome all but the strongest charms. And when that happens, we just shrug and remove the memory.
If I were all of you, and were likely to go up against them again, I would encourage you not to underestimate them. Muggles or not, you have seen what they can do."
Silence greeted her second speech of the night.
Hermione's mind turned again to a raven haired 'muggle' and all that he could do without the power of magic. She didn't want to believe it. She didn't want to. But there were coincidences here.
In her heart of hearts, she hoped against hope that this wasn't the consequence of James being away.
Or maybe Ron had just run afoul of a highly trained team of Police. Maybe that was it. They did exist aswell. Could just be them?
You don't believe that.
Ron looked thoughtful. "Why do you say that? That there are government muggles? That they are these boogie men you are talking about."
Hermione indicated towards the rapidly declining bruise on Ron's chest from her quick wand movement.
"Because Ron is still breathing."
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Thursday 5th September 2012
The wards woke Hermione. Not in a way that signalled a threat had found her, which was a fear she had to deal with, but in a much more pleasant way.
James was home.
She felt an instant wave of relief wash over her. He had only been gone for three nights, but what three nights they had been. A conversation with Peyton on Tuesday, and healing Ron on Wednesday had not given her much time to sit around and miss him.
Yet, miss him she had. Horribly. A dull ache in her chest that had yearned for him to come home, to walk through that door and wrap his arms around her. An ache that wanted to kiss him, hold him and be held by him. An ache that had wanted to feel him inside of her, to feel his touch on his skin and hear his gasps in her ear.
She had wanted nothing more and nothing short of him. Just him.
She would have thought that after all this time that maybe she would be slightly used to not having him around. Especially with the change in their relationship, but that had not been the case. Not at all. Not even slightly.
She had done her best to keep it controlled and contained. But it was difficult. She loved him. She loved him so badly it hurt when he was away.
And now he was back.
She climbed out of bed and sprinted for the door to his bedroom, opening it and taking the stairs as quickly as she could.
She found him in the entrance hall, fiddling with something in his bag.
"James!" she had called.
He shot a look up to her, almost looking like he had been caught out, before his eyes lit up upon seeing her.
"Hey!" he called, rushing towards her. She dove into his arms as he scooped her up and lifted her for a full rotation before setting her down on her feet.
They exchanged a long and tender kiss.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." He whispered softly to her, after she had broken the kiss and pulled him in close.
"I'm glad you did."
Hermione just nuzzled her head into his shoulder. For his part, he buried his own head into her hair.
"I'm still sorry." He said, his voice full of tenderness. "But I'm glad you decided to use the keys."
She smiled into his shoulder, feeling content that she was back to where she was supposed to be.
Finally, he pulled his head back and looked at her. It was an appraising look.
"I missed you." He said simply. His green pools meeting her brown orbs.
"I missed you too." She said simply, before his lips met hers in a long and deep kiss.
She didn't see what he was fiddling with in his bag when he got home.
She didn't see that it was a pistol.
She didn't see that it had several spare magazines.
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Hermione was back to being happy. She was lying, naked, with James lying on top of her, his head nestled between her naked breasts. She was good and satisfied, she believed that he was too.
Well, his whispered, post orgasm compliments suggested he might have been so.
She was so content to have him there as she ran one hand through his raven hair, and another over his back, cresting his scar and his tattoo and back again.
He wasn't asleep, she could tell that, but he seemed relaxed. Comfortable. Happy.
Several times her mouth opened to speak. Several times she closed it again.
She wanted to tell him. She did. Very badly. Peyton's words were running through her head.
The longer you let this go on, the greater the chance that his own anger ruins any chance he has of reconciling with the fact that your lying to him is in order to help him.
There was a problem with telling him, of course. Telling him almost felt strangely selfish. It felt like she would be giving up his chance of remembering his past, for her chance at being part of his future.
Her mind cast back to third year. The firebolt incident. She had hated doing it, but she knew that the right thing to do was to tell Professor McGonagall about the broom, about who she suspected it came from.
He had been furious. He had been so angry at her. But later on, he had understood. She had always been the one willing to risk his temper and his fury, in order to do the right thing by him.
It bounced around in her mind. Was she telling him for him, or for her?
"Hey." She said softly, her hand still running through his hair.
"Mmmmmm?" He groaned into her breasts. She tried not to laugh.
"Hey, can we talk?" She said softly.
"Mmmmmm." He said, gradually raising his head from between her breasts and looking at her with sleepy, emerald, eyes.
She looked into those green eyes and instantly lost her cool, her nerve. She lost any resolve that she had to tell him exactly what she knew about them. She tried again. Her mouth opened and closed several times but didn't get anywhere.
James noticed. He most certainly noticed.
It was him that spoke next.
"I love you."
Hermione baulked. Of all the things they could talk about, that was entirely not what she had expected. She had been working up to it, that's for sure. She had been working up the courage to say it, but not wanting to force him into an emotional situation that he wasn't ready for. But there he went, completely shattering her expectations and saying it first. Saying it out of the blue.
Saying it before he knew the truth about her.
She suspected in that moment that he may have never said that before. The way Peyton spoke, there was a chance he never said it to her. She knew in that moment that this was huge for him, for her and for them. All thoughts of moving too quickly or it being too soon vanished from the back of her mind.
"I know it's really soon, and it's really early. But I couldn't help it. I just. I just wanted to say it. I completely get if you aren't there yet, or what have you, but I – I just thought you should know."
Hermione's heart could have exploded from how adorable he was in that moment. How nervous he had been to say it. How genuine it was. How difficult that must have been for him.
"I love you too." She whispered.
It was a relief that washed over her. It was so natural to say. So easy for her to say. It was the most natural thing she could have said. It was like breathing. It was like she had had her morning coffee and the world felt like it wasn't unobtainable. Only it was a million times more than that.
Her reaction split his face open into a big smile. A smile that even she had never seen before.
He lifted himself up and gave her the kiss of all kisses. She lost herself in that kiss. That kiss was all she needed. That kiss could sustain her long beyond anything she had thought before.
The kiss that seemed to restore her soul.
When finally, they separated. Hermione knew it was the time to tell him. She knew that the damage done by her telling him vastly outweighed the damage of not telling him.
She again tried to speak, but again, he beat her to the punch.
"So, I was thinking."
Hermione continued to stroke his hair as she looked at him. She gave him a happy smile to encourage him.
"I've managed to secure leave for the weekend. I'm not expected back at work until Wednesday. They should leave me alone. Why don't you and me go away together. I was thinking we could go to London."
Hermione smiled at him. "To London?" She knew him well enough to know that more was coming.
"Well, way I see it is that you have met my family. Why don't I meet yours?"
Hermione's heart and head felt like they were going to explode. Was he really suggesting that he meet her parents? This early? All the thoughts of telling him were driven from her mind as that moment passed, and this moment replaced it.
Hermione looked down at him and saw the earnestness in his face.
"You sure you want to meet the Grangers? This soon?" She asked with a cocked eyebrow.
"I'm sure." He said with resolve. "Look, I know we've only been together a few weeks, but Jesus Hermione, I feel like I've known you my whole life."
There it was. That glimmer of guilt in her soul from the earnestness in his eyes.
"Together, you say?" Said Hermione softly, hopefully.
"Well, I've no plans to be with anyone else. So, unless you've got another bloke on the go, I'd say that puts us pretty firmly into the 'together camp'." He said, a hint of humour in his voice. "Seriously though, I just told you I love you. You told me you love me too. That makes us pretty much confirmed as a partnership, if you ask me. Unless you disagree."
Hermione didn't even have to think about it.
"I completely agree."
"Well, I'm glad." Said James. "Point is. I reckon you've worked plenty of extra hours this week, I'm sure your boss would give you a long weekend. And if she doesn't, I'd be more than happy to have a chat to her. Let's go away. Let's go to London. I want to know more about you, and I feel like your parents would help me to do so."
Hermione again felt like she could burst from his loving nature.
Once again, her nerve failed her. She loved him and he loved her. She had to believe in that it was her love that would see this through.
Maybe it would be better to tell him in London? Maybe that would be better, away from here, from where he had built his life.
Somewhere they could be away from everything and everyone. Where if he wanted to vent he could vent, if he wanted to talk they could talk.
It seemed like the best idea she could come up with.
Why is this so difficult?
Finally, she nodded. "Okay. I'll ring mum in the morning."
He smiled another one of those smiles, and gently kissed her.
"Did Peyton tell you I had been working late?" she asked absently.
James smiled as he lowered himself back onto her naked breast. "Nope. I just had a pretty good guess."
Hermione smiled despite herself.
"Well. Since you know me so well, I guess I could try and get the days off. Lucky you happen to be pretty close with my boss, eh?"
James chuckled into her naked skin.
"Lucky."
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Thursday 5th September 2012
Robalds's eyes scanned the report as he read. His brow furrowing more and more with each line.
Ron was in his office, seated across from the table as he waited for Robalds to finish reading.
He knew he was in for a bollocking. Not only had the Death Eater escaped, but the contact had also. They were back to nothing. They had been snatched out from underneath their very noses.
Ron shifted uncomfortably in his chair and winced. Hermione had managed to heal his ribs, but there was still some bruising as it healed.
It still hurt to touch.
Ron thought back to the bollocking he had received from Luna. Hermione had been right. He had thought he could get away with it. He thought he could hide it. Be sneaky.
Ron didn't know why he still tried to hide the dangers of his work from her. She was the most perceptive person he had ever met in his life. Besides, he married her. There was no one who knew more about him than her.
She had been furious in a way that only Luna could be. She didn't scream, she didn't shout. Instead, she had sat him down and spoke about her disappointment in a soft tone. Almost like she was admonishing one of her employees for being late.
Except that made it even worst. It just made him feel guilty. He had disappointed her.
He would have rather she just shouted.
"Our child is growing inside of me Ronald. A child that needs a father. A father that is honest with his wife about what he sees and does. Because Ronald, that's the agreement we made when we married. That is how we make this work."
The words still stung much more than some bruised ribs.
Robalds leaned back in his chair and threw the report on the table.
"How are the ribs?" Robalds said simply, appraising him.
"Still a bit tender." Ron admitted, his hand subconsciously reaching over and touching the bruise. He winced. Why he touched it, he had no idea.
"And Drisco? How's he?"
"No aftereffects."
"Good. What about Luna? How's she coming along?"
Ron didn't know what to say. Was he being led into a trap? It felt like a trap.
"She tore shreds off of me when she realised I had suffered and injury and tried to hide it from her."
Robalds chuckled softly. "I'll bet."
"But she's showing. It's all a bit surreal." Ron said, unable to hide the grin as he spoke.
He was going to be a dad.
Robalds nodded along. He knew the feeling.
Finally, he turned serious.
"Sounds like this was a bloody fiasco, Weasley." Robalds brought one hand to his face and leaned into it, examining him.
"To put it simply, sir."
Robalds nodded. "Good work."
Ron looked at the man confused. "Good work? We lost the bloody DE, and we lost the bloody muggle. Drisco got knocked out, Van Guereck got manhandled, Jones nearly got shot, I did get shot. The obliviators couldn't even get close due to the Police presence, who had already scattered."
The obliviators had been forced to cancel their tasking due to the number of residuals that the situation had incurred. To many initial witnesses had escaped and had they obliviated the ones present, it would have led to greater questions. Better to leave it an unsolved crime, so they thought.
They were satisfied that the initial clearance of evidence would suffice.
Robalds nodded. "Yes, you did. But you gained invaluable intelligence."
Ron looked confused. "Which intelligence sir?"
Robalds smiled. "What can you infer from the way this played out Ron?"
Ron frowned. He was ready for a bollocking, and interrogation. He wasn't in the mood for a teachable moment.
"That there is likely muggle government interest in this situation?" It was not the first time in his life that Hermione's intelligence had pulled his sorry arse from the fire. He seriously doubted it would be the last.
Robalds nodded. "Continue."
"And it must be somewhat high level. Sir, those men were good. They were bloody amazing, actually. I don't know If they have ever fought wizards before, but they were all over us. Any chance we got our wands out, they were onto us before we got even a chance to start casting. Jones got one stunner away. One. Before he was forced back by the muggles. They had the split-second advantage, and they took it. They were quick, they were brutal, and they were efficient. They could have killed us. All of us. But they didn't. It's almost as if we were spared. Now they have custody of the DE and the informant."
Robalds nodded. "Correct. So, what do we infer from this?"
Ron thought long and hard.
"You're almost there Weasley. What does this mean? Why would there be such high-level muggle interest in this situation?"
Cold realisation washed over him as the pieces slowly came together. "It means that the Muggle Government has Voldemort's body."
Robalds nodded. "They have custody of Voldemort's body." He affirmed.
Ron nodded. "That makes it easier, right sir?"
Robalds barked out a laugh. "Not even slightly. This makes it complicated. Much more complicated."
Ron frowned.
"What do you know about muggle government, Weasley?"
Ron frowned, he was increasingly getting an education.
"They can pull resources together that we wouldn't even dream of. This MI5, it is a whole beast of its own. Imagine going to war with the Department of Mysteries. It's secrets upon secrets upon secrets. Now we have contacts throughout most branches of the Muggle government. Squibs, mainly, who report back to ensure that we continue to clean up after each ourselves. We have never, ever managed to get someone inside MI5."
Ron nodded. This was getting more complicated by the day.
"Which leads to the next question. What do you suppose that question is Weasley?"
Ron thought again.
"Why, ten years later, do they still have Voldemort's body?" He asked, the realisation dawning on him.
"That, Ron, is a very good question."
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
Friday 6th September, 2012
Hermione could tell that James was jumpy as they made the drive. He continually looked out his rear-view mirror, more than even the most cautious driver, that was for sure. It was like he knew about the escaped Death Eaters and had heard that they were after him.
"The back country roads are much prettier than the highway, don't you think?" He had said to her with a smile, his hand in hers as they drove, taking in the scenery.
"I get it." She said with a smile. "You just want the extra half an hour in the car with me. You regret asking to come and meet my parents. You're just trying to delay it!"
James had laughed. "Not on your life. I just like the back roads. I'm excited to meet them."
Hermione cocked her eyebrow to him. "Then why are you acting like we are being followed."
James's hand squeezed hers.
"Before you try to say you aren't. You are."
He sighed. "Just some work stuff is all."
"Is this why you wanted to get out of Hereford for a while?" Hermione asked gently.
He sighed and nodded. "Partially. I do want to meet your parents, Hermione. I just needed to get out of town for a while. I'll calm down."
Hermione gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. She was slightly disquieted by his paranoia, but she was content to be gentle in her inquisition.
"Is this something my parents should be worried about?"
He thought for a second before he replied. "Oh no! Not at all. I wouldn't do anything to put you or your parents in danger, Hermione."
"Are you in danger, James?"
He let out a big sigh, then slowed up his ute, pulling over to the side of the road. They had pulled out on a long country road, with big green farmers' fields stretching out either side of them. He got out of the car, indicating for her to do the same, and then walked around in front of it.
Hermione for her part climbed out of the car after him.
James walked over to a wooden fence and leaned forward onto it, resting both of his arms upon it. She walked up next to him and gently nudged him with her shoulder.
"Are you in danger, James?" she asked again. This was not the kind of question she was willing to let him get away with.
Her mind turned towards her red headed best mate and a black bruise that took up a fair chunk of his torse.
He sighed. Looking out of the fields, looking at the cows that wandered lazily around the green pastures to his front.
He finally turned and looked at her.
"No, Hermione. No, I'm not. Well, no more than usual I don't think. The last job we worked was just a bit tricky is all. Left a bit of a bad taste in my mouth. I took leave so we could get away. I just wanted to get away and be with you. Learn more about you. Sometimes I find it hard to wind down is all. I'll relax soon."
"James?" She said, unconvinced.
He sighed again. "We just did some stuff for an agency that I'm not to fond of. Nothing untoward or anything. No one died! They just make me feel –" He stopped talking as if searching for the word.
"Go on." She said gently.
"Dirty. I don't like them. I've had some bad experiences with them. Unfortunately, I don't think the experience has ended either. So, I'm just keen to get away and spend some time with you and meet your family. I promise I will relax. But sometimes my work just leaves me a bit nervous afterwards."
This is a stretch to call a coincidence.
She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. "Okay."
"You just have to accept that I can't talk about a lot of my work. Official secrets and all that. It's an unfortunate by product of being with me." He turned to her and gave her a small nervous smile.
Her curious mind didn't like that. She could see that he was still a bit jumpy, and it concerned her.
"If you can't – you know – handle it. My work. I – uh – I understand. It isn't easy to be with me."
Hermione could see how nervous he was to say that. Confessing to loving her and then giving her an out. It was a very Harry thing to do.
"James. Look at me."
He nervously turned towards her. His emerald pools showed it, his nerves, his fear. She leaned up and brushed her lips gently across his.
"I'm not going anywhere." She said, offering him a small smile.
His return smile could have lit up the day if it wasn't already a beautiful one.
"Anything I can do?" She said, accepting what he said for its at least partial truth. There was more to this. She reached out and started playing with his hair.
He squeezed her hand again. "You're doing it."
She couldn't help but smile at that. It made her unreasonably happy.
"Okay. But I'm watching you." She said simply.
In more ways than one. Something bigger is going on here.
He just nodded. "And I appreciate you doing just that."
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
Friday 6th September 2012
For the rest of the drive, they had settled easily into each other's company. They had talked, laughed, and sang along with the radio. The tension had seemed to have faded, but Hermione knew James better than that.
For his own part, his mind turned to the pistol, hidden in his bag, his very own 'just-in-case', not that he thought he would need it. But he enjoyed the drive, the feeling of Hermione's hand in his own, the feeling of her hand through his hair. What she had to say, the way she listened.
Several hours later had seen them pull up out the front of Hermione's parents' place. It was a gorgeous house. It had a grey exterior and a well-kept front lawn. Not in the clinical, surgical, competitive way of Privet Drive, but in the happy, homely, kept way of two people who took pride in their garden, and as a result, enjoyed what they did with it.
For his part, James had retrieved their bags while Hermione went running over to the two people who had emerged from the house. Two people who could only be Hermione's parents.
James for his part had given them a quick appraisal. Hermione took after her mother. Complete with a slim build and an easy smile. She had her mother's hair and her mother's smile.
Not that Hermione's father had been left out entirely. Hermione's nose was much more reminiscent of her father, and he would later note that her chocolate brown eyes were a reflection of his, as opposed to the darker brown of her mothers.
"Mum!" Hermione yelled as she saw her mother and ran across the front lawn to give her mother a great big hug.
"Hello Hermione!" Her mother said with a big smile, embracing her daughter tightly. "What a wonderful surprise it was to get your phone call today! We are so excited to have you."
Ellen Granger took a step back and gave her a daughter a look of appraisal. Well. It was more than appraisal. There was a pointed question behind her eyes. A pointed question that Hermione knew would require some explanation.
I know. Was Hermione's unspoken reply to her mother.
"Hermione!" said a male voice behind her mother. "How are you?"
"Dad!" Hermione yelled at her father. She ran up and gave her Dad another great big hug. He laughed into her hug. "Oh, careful Hermione, these ribs aren't as young as they once were."
Hermione let her dad go and beamed at him too.
"And who would this be?" asked Ellen, deliberately turning towards James as he approached with their bags.
Hermione moved over and slipped her arm into her partners.
"Nathan and Ellen Granger, I'd like you to meet my boyfriend, James Black."
James stepped forward and offered a hand to Ellen, who was staring at him curiously. "It's very nice to meet you, Mrs Granger." He said politely.
Ellen stared at him for a moment before she recovered herself. "Very nice to meet you, James." She said, stepping forward and wrapping him up into a big hug.
Hermione, tried to suppress a smile as she saw a very surprised James tense up under the hug. It took him a moment, with a look of discomfort, before he reached out and gently patted Ellen on the back.
Everyone saw it, except Ellen, who felt it.
"Please, call me Ellen. We are well past the whole "Mrs Grangers" business.
"Okay Ellen." Said James, recovering from the hug.
"Mr Granger, it's very nice to meet you too." Said James, again offering a hand.
Nathan, who had witnessed James's discomfort at the hug, shot a wink at Hermione before he too stepped forward and wrapped James up in a big hug.
A hug that James was most certainly not ready for. If he had tensed up before for Ellen, he absolutely froze under the hug from Nathan.
Hermione was unable to stop herself from smiling at seeing what her father was doing.
James didn't seem to know what to do with his hands. He once again was making a great impression of the robot as his hands moved up and down. Finally, he settled on giving Nathan a few pats on the back.
Nathan only served to laugh.
"Couldn't help myself, mate. I figured everyone else was getting a hug, so I wanted one too. I hope that wasn't too difficult for you?" He said, looking up at the taller man with an altogether too big smile.
"I think I might be able to tell why you became a dentist, Mr Granger." James said, a small smile pulling at the edges of his own mouth.
Nathan let out a bark of laughter at that.
"I like the lad." He said, to Hermione before turning bac to James. "Please though, call me Nate. Mr Granger is Hermione's grandfather. Now come on in. I hope you both bought an appetite!"
"We are starving!" Said Hermione, trying to break the tension, and reset a still very confused looking James Black.
She picked up her bag with one hand and took James's hand with the other, leading him inside.
Ellen led them into a hallway. "Hermione, your room is allmade up and ready for you both, if you would like to go drop your bags and make yourself comfortable. Dinner will be ready shortly, like always, your father has cooked up a storm."
Hermione took the hint.
"Come on James, this way." She said, taking his hand and leading him upstairs.
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
Hermione watched as James placed his bag on the bed and looked around her bedroom with awe. She couldn't help but smile as he walked over to her chest of drawers and had a look at the books that sat neatly on top – her favourites. She saw him looking at some of her trinkets and souvenirs that sat on it.
None of them were magical of course. She had requested that her mum sort out her room so as to not give any clue of anything away to James.
Hence why her room was all made up.
Instead, the mementos and trinkets were all from their frequent travels. Photos of her with her parents in France, or Italy. Or friends of hers from Medical School when they travelled. Many of the more inherently magical trinkets were back in storage.
Along with, of course, any photographs of Harry that she had left visible.
"I love your bookshelf." Said James, walking over to the afore mentioned item.
Hermione smiled.
"It has gotten a lot of use. My grandfather made that for me."
She watched as James reached out and grabbed the side of it, giving it a gentle movement as if testing the structural integrity of the furniture. He just nodded, as if giving it his approval.
"Does it meet the building code?" She said, giving him a raised eyebrow.
James smiled like he had been caught out. "It's really well built. It's very nice."
She approached him and put her arm around him, where he put his arm around her in turn.
"I can just see a young Hermione pulling chairs over from her desk to reach the books up the top. Those books of course being the hardest to reach, naturally being her favourites that she goes to all the time."
Hermione leaned into him and looked up, to meet his mirthful eyes.
"You have no idea how right you are."
He chuckled. "You are something else."
She went to swot him on the chest, but he caught her arms and pulled her close.
He went to kiss him but was affronted when he dared pull away.
"James?" She said questioningly, pouting at him. "Why won't you kiss me?"
For his reply he looked nervous. He opened his mouth to speak.
"Hermione, this is your parents' house. I don't want to – I mean. Shouldn't we –." He sighed in frustration. "I'm a little bit surprised that they are letting us sleep in the same bed if I'm honest."
Hermione just laughed. "James, you're wonderful, you know that?"
His frustration turned to confusion on his face.
"I'm – uh - what?"
Hermione reached up and cupped his face, bringing it down until she kissed him.
"I'm 28. You're 28. My parents recognise the fact that we are adults and treat us accordingly. My parents have absolutely no hang ups about us sharing a room together. None whatsoever. All they want is that you treat me right."
"Do I?" James asked, slight nervousness creeping into his voice. "Do I treat you right?"
Hermione just gave him another smile, this was one that came from the warmth of her heart. He could be so adorable sometimes.
"You couldn't treat me better if you tried." She said, giving him another kiss. "Now come on downstairs, before my parents wonder if our first act in their home was a carnal one."
James went an adorable shade of pink as she took his hand and led him downstairs.
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
Dinner had gone wonderfully, all things considered.
Her parents had played their roles beautifully. Truth be told, they hadn't known much about Harry, as he hadn't had a great deal of opportunities to get to know them. They had known him as the shy, bespectacled young boy with the dark hair and scar who they met at the train station several times.
They had mostly known Harry through Hermione's conversations, which had started when she came home from Hogwarts after her first year. Well, truth be told it had all started in the frequent owls and correspondence she had maintained with her parents.
Her parents had always assumed that the childhood crush that Hermione had clearly demonstrated was just presenting itself in her constant conversations.
Not that they had minded. The Grangers had not been the uptight muggles that some might assume them to be. They were the modern professionals of the day. They had trusted Hermione to make her own decisions, but they had guided her in ways as best they could.
It had led to a happy childhood where Hermione had the freedom to explore and play within her boundaries. She naturally, had chosen books for much of her childhood, having devoured anything and everything she could find.
But it had been a happy childhood. And she adored the memories.
Even if many of them were now being brought up by her parents in ways that were designed to make James laugh. And laugh he did.
Her parents, having agreed (with great confusion) to go along with this venture, were relishing playing the normal in-laws, meeting their daughter's boyfriend for the first time. They were enjoying it, because much of it was not actually an act.
They didn't much about James or his childhood, except what Hermione had told them, and she had strategically avoided telling them about the abuse. Not because she didn't think they could handle it, but purely because she felt that talking about it with them would cross a line with Harry.
"So, Hermione tells us you are in the SAS, Harry? How is that?" asked Nathan, absentmindedly taking another bite of his dinner.
Hermione tensed.
Ellen tensed.
"James. Nate. It's James." Ellen said, pointedly grabbing her husband on the leg and squeezing. He yelped as her nails dug into his thigh.
James raised an eyebrow, an amused smile creeping up on his face.
"What did I say?" said Nate, confused.
Hermione stared at him. Ellen stared at him. Nate stared at them both, before he looked over at James, who was watching the scene with amusement.
"You called me Harry." James said with a smile, reaching out and giving Hermione's leg a squeeze. "It's alright. I get it, Steve, names are hard."
Nate laughed.
This was a mistake.
Finally, though, with the tension broken, Ellen and Hermione managed to see the funny side and join in the laughter.
Then the laughter had died down though, Hermione and Ellen gave each other the exact same look. A look that had serious misgivings.
"But seriously James," Nate said, emphasising the use of his name. "What's it like? The SAS?"
James took another sip of his lager.
"It's much like anything else I suppose. It's a job. Upsides, downsides. I've a good team though. Which is really handy. As they say, a terrible job with good people is a good job. You'd know though. Hermione tells me you were in the Royal Marines?"
Nate nodded. "Yeah. I was regular for a while, then went territorial, where I studied to be a dentist, and joined the dark side."
James smiled.
"Any ambitions like that yourself?"
"Me? No. No way." James said shaking his head enthusiastically. "I'm happy being a Corporal. Officers in the Regiment carry to much political weight. And I'm – well. I'm."
He turned and smiled at Hermione as he took her hand under the table.
"I'm not so great at keeping my opinion to myself."
Nate laughed. "Well, don't let go of that. You'll need that around Hermione."
Hermione shot her father a look. "Oh, will he, father?"
Nate couldn't help but smile at her. Hermione doted on her father, and only called him father when she wanted to rile him up. Like now.
"He will, Hermione." Nate said confidently. "Otherwise, you would just walk all over him."
Hermione tried to stop herself from smiling. "I would do no such thing, father!"
Ellen chimed in. "You most certainly would Hermione, there isn't a person at this table who would disagree."
All eyes turned to James, who scratched the back of his neck nervously.
He shrugged. "Yeah. Look. I'm not so good at blindly following orders." He said finally.
"Well lucky you're in the Army then, James." Said Ellen with a smirk.
It was Hermione who spoke next.
"He's not in the Army, mum, he's in the Regiment."
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
Later that night found James and Nate in his study.
"How do you like your scotch, James?"
"On the rocks, please."
"Perfect."
The two men stood in the study, scotch in hand as Nate took James around his study. There was something about Grangers and studies, James was quickly learning.
As far as they went, it was impressive. It was full of books, souvenirs and a lovely big desk which housed a light for reading and a laptop computer.
It also housed several bottles of Scotch. Good scotch. The type of scotch that you reserve for those occasions you don't encounter very often.
James was glad then, that he had gifted Nate a bottle of good scotch. It wasn't so shabby that it wouldn't be fitting with his collection.
It had been one of those bottles that Nate had poured from, much to James's protesting. Nate had merely waved him off.
"You're the first man that Hermione has every brought home to meet the parents like this. And I would greatly appreciate if you were the last."
James didn't know a great deal about family. But he knew enough to appreciate that this was one hell of a gesture. Even if the transparency of what was coming next wasn't lost on James.
"So, James. It's a father's prerogative to have this conversation with you, so I hope that you will entertain me this. While I in no way think that my headstrong daughter would listen to me about any misgivings I was to have about you, I still think that it is necessary to have this conversation, man to man, father to daughter's boyfriend, Marine to Soldier."
James nodded.
"It's a beautiful night and I would hate for Hermione to hear that you were doing this. How about we step outside?" James said quietly.
Nate nodded and gave him a small smile.
"I like your thinking. Let's go."
Before long, they were outside in the Grangers lovely back yard. There was plenty of grassland and even a spa built in in the back. There were still some old swings set up. James smiled at the thought of young Hermione encouraging her father to push her.
He took a sip of the Scotch. It was brilliant. Amazing. Fantastic.
"So, James. Why should I be happy that you are dating my daughter?"
James thought for a long moment. He leaned on the banister that faced the grass area and mulled over the question.
"I wouldn't presume to tell you that you should be happy, Nate. Not at all. The way I see it is very simple, your loving, caring, beautiful daughter has for some reason chosen to spend her time with me. Now you're a Royal Marine, you've heard the adage. "Never interrupt your enemy while they are making a mistake?" That's about how I feel with Hermione."
Nate gave a snort at the reference. He knew the adage well.
"So, Hermione is making a mistake?"
"Does she ever?"
Nate opened his mouth, and then thought for a moment.
James hid a smirk. Even he was proud of that.
"The way I see it simple. I'm not exactly brilliant when it comes to emotions and family and the like. I've not known it. I don't know it. Then I met your daughter and I realised that some emotions were just knowing things without knowing why you know them. I know I love your daughter, and I can list plenty of reasons why. But I just know that I love her. I adore her. I am honestly blessed for every moment I get to spend in her company. And of all that, somehow she loves me back."
James took a deep breath.
"I'd love to say that I will always protect her, and I will. I will do my absolute best. But there's something about her that screams that she can do a pretty good job of that herself. So, I guess what I will say is I will always do my best to help her out and encourage her to continue to grow to be the fantastic, amazing, brilliant woman that she is."
James died off and took another sip. He wasn't sure what he had said had been sufficient. But he had said it as best he could.
"Don't put yourself down there, lad. Hermione wouldn't have given you her heart if you didn't deserve it."
"Just making me say nice things then, eh Nate?"
"Gotta mess with you while I can."
James breathed out a laugh.
"Can't blame you for that.
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
While the boys were deep in scotch, the women were having a wine. The wine that James had bought Ellen.
Hermione had picked it, naturally.
"He's grown, Hermione." Ellen said. "Tall and fit."
Hermione blushed as she enjoyed a wine with her mum, letting the boys do their thing. Hermione couldn't help but suspect that her father was putting James through his paces. She had every faith that James would be holding his own, however.
"He sure has."
"I'm not surprised it has come to this."
"Why not?"
"You can't deny that the last ten years you have mourned. You have mourned more than any person I've ever seen. It's been incredibly hard to watch. It has been so soul destroying to know that nothing could be done. Your heart was so completely broken Hermione."
Hermione just sipped her wine and looked at her mother.
"But I achieved things mum. I became a clinical doctor and a fully accredited healer. I set up fellowships to help others do the same. I helped people mum. My life was defined by those successes."
Her mum smiled and gently patted Hermione's hand.
"And we have been so proud of you. So very proud of you."
"I don't get this from you. Sure, I mourned him. He was my best friend. I spent most of my youth trying to protect him, trying to save him from others, from himself. It hurt to have failed so resolutely in the most important task I had ever set myself."
"But you haven't failed, Hermione."
Hermione looked at her mother.
"He is still alive. And you can't look at me and tell me that that is not Harry. Look at him. Listen to him. Older, sure. Wiser, most certainly. But from everything you ever told us about him. That seems like he might just be that same old Harry Potter you used to have a massive crush on."
Hermione just chewed her lip.
"He is. Different in some ways. Frustrating, just as frustrating as Harry ever was. That same stubbornness, that same pigheadedness."
"He'll need that with you, Hermione. Any boy you chose would."
Hermione suddenly felt a small amount of anger rise at the back of her throat.
"I still don't get this pressure from you, or Molly Weasley that always centred around me meeting a boy and settling down though. Like you felt I had to define my life by the boy I chose. Like I was nothing without a male presence in my life."
Ellen took a long sip from her glass of wine and gave her daughter a long look.
"Is that what you think we meant?"
Hermione nodded, frustrated. "What else could it have been?"
"It could have been that we saw you weren't happy. We saw that you were killing yourself at work trying to fill a hole. If you ever thought for one moment that people like Molly and I could not see what you were covering for, you vastly overestimate your ability to hide things. I mean, come on Hermione, why are you acting like the rest of us didn't see that there was no Hermione without Harry."
"Well. There was a Harry without Hermione." Hermione said grumpily.
"Was there?"
Hermione went to retort, but something made her pause. Something made her think.
Everything Peyton had told her. Everything about the man who had never been able to love Peyton. Who had always felt like he was meant for someone else. That exact same feeling that she had never been able to put into words for her whole life.
The man who had risen to the top of his field through hard and dedicated work.
The man who was still not who he was supposed to be. The man who she strongly believed that it was up to her, and her alone, to help.
"That's what I thought." Ellen said gently.
Hermione just grimaced at her mother. She loved her mother. But sometimes she hated how much she could just reach through Hermione's defences and pull this out. It drove her nuts.
"Now come on Hermione, Let's go make sure that your father hasn't challenged James to an arm wrestle or something in order to get his approval."
Hermione smiled at the change in subject and followed her mother towards the back yard.
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
James and Nate had swapped a few stories, as the scotch had started to flow. Just little ones. Funny ones more than the sad ones.
As was the way. They were reluctant to talk about the bad things. But in each other's company, they could talk about the times that had been funny, despite how terrible they were. Times they could tell stories without judgement.
Nate had told the last one, involving a couple of Marines who had decided to have a bird bath, just as a mortar attack had occurred.
He had trailed off.
He became serious for a moment.
"Then of course, there was the attack on Hermione's school."
"The attack?"
"She hasn't mentioned a word of that then? Of course not. Bet she wants to know all about the things you've seen and the things you've done. But always reluctant to give those details about herself away, that's Hermione."
"What attack?"
Nate leaned back against the banister and looked out towards the spa.
He smacked his lips together.
"It's really more for her to say. But when she was younger, her school was attacked by a group of – well let's just say a group of terrorists. Terrorists seem to be the word of the day, doesn't it?"
"Sure is. 'bad guys' doesn't seem to fit in the broadsheets anymore."
Nate snorted out a laugh.
"No. No it doesn't. Point is. Her school was attacked. Several times."
"How bad was it? I've never heard anything about this?"
"You wouldn't. Hermione went to one of those schools. The type that people sent their children to stay out of the press. It was all very hush hush."
James gave him a curious look, which Nate ignored.
"It was bad. Hermione helped defend her school, looked after her fellow student. Got a couple of medals for it, actually. It was a right mess. I still don't know all the details; she won't tell us. I do know that she lost friends. She lost her best friend."
James sucked in a breath. "Shit."
"You aren't wrong."
Nate gave him an indescribable look. One of knowing? Maybe one of assessment. All James knew is he couldn't quite explain it.
"So that explains that something behind her eyes then?"
Nate just gave James a long look of appraisal.
"You picked up on that then?"
James chuckled mirthlessly. "Come on now Nate. You and I know that look. It's the same look I see in you, and that you see in me. It's the look of someone who has seen it."
"And what is 'it'?" Asked Ellen, opening the sliding door and coming outside, Hermione following closely behind.
James's mouth opened and closed several times.
He looked over at Nate who gave him an understanding look. He reached out clapped James on the shoulder in a reassuring way.
In that moment, Nate felt a rush of affection towards James. Here was a man who had seen it and done it all. More so even than Nate, who had dealt with his time in the Falklands, and his time in Northern Ireland.
It was in that moment that Nate truly started to understand the raven-haired man that his daughter had given her heart to. It was in that moment that Nate had truly started to understand perhaps why this man didn't want his memory back. Why he didn't want to know what lay behind the veil of his mind.
Deep down, deep in his heart, Nate knew what James knew.
It was just pain. It was just suffering.
So much of James's world was about what the worst of people can do to each other. The true horror of the human experience. The true horror of the human ability to wage war.
Somehow, understood Nate in that moment, that James knew that pain sat behind that veil.
And it terrified him.
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
"What one person can do to another."
Nate finally answered for James.
Hermione saw the look of gratitude that James shot her dad.
James gave a long sigh and nodded at Nate. Who only served to squeeze James's shoulder and give him a solemn nod.
It was then that James's eyes turned to her. They were sad. Sad green. Hermione didn't like that as she walked straight up and wrapped her arms around him.
He relaxed instantly into her touch, wrapping his own arms around her.
She felt his hand come up to play with her hair as she leaned back and looked him straight in the eye.
"Why were you two talking about such things?" She asked simply. Pointedly.
James shrugged.
"Just a couple of old soldiers swapping war stories I guess." He said with a sad smile to her.
"Marine." Grunted her dad from next to him as he moved over to embrace his own wife.
She gave him an understanding nod.
"Maybe one day, you will share your war story." James said softly.
Hermione tensed. She could see the pointed look behind his eyes. It wasn't accusing, or in anyway inflammatory. It was more, concerned, understanding, appreciative.
But he knew. She knew that he did.
She bit her lip in thought. Then she nodded at him.
"One day."
"If you want to talk. I want to listen." He whispered to her as he pulled her back into a hug.
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