A/N:
Short note just to say thanks again for the reviews, favourites and follows.
Cheers,
ATG
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Chapter Twelve
Tuesday September 8th 2012
When Peyton answered the door, she knew that it had gone poorly.
The Hermione Granger who held out James's car keys was not the same Hermione Granger who had called her several days before, smiling from ear to ear, to take a few days off.
Peyton had not had a problem with it of course. She had smirked in the phone and wished them a 'good luck' and 'happy travels', but most importantly a 'have fun.'
Judging from the defeated woman who stood in front of her, with bags under her eyes that contained nothing but sadness, it hadn't been good luck, it hadn't been happy travels and it most certainly hadn't been fun.
"Hermione." Peyton said with a soft smile. "Come on in. Let's have a wine."
Hermione didn't look her in the eyes as she just held out the keys. "Oh, it's okay. I don't want to be a pain. I just thought I'd drop off James's keys."
"Hermione." Peyton said kindly. "It's Tuesday. I was going to ask you in for a wine whether you came back sad, happy, or flashing a bloody ring in my face."
Hermione just nodded and trudged past Peyton and into the house.
Peyton poured them both a wine and they sat down out on the balcony.
"It didn't go well then, I take it?" Peyton said gently.
Hermione just shook her head.
"He didn't take it well?"
Hermione again shook her head.
Peyton just sighed and nodded.
"What happened?"
Hermione quickly recounted what had happened on Saturday for Peyton, who just listened and nodded along.
When Hermione had finished, Peyton let out a long sigh.
"Well, that is less than ideal."
Hermione just nodded and took a sip.
"I was going up there to tell him, Peyton. I was. I promise I was. But he found that damned photo. I have no idea how he found it. I've never seen him look so hurt, so betrayed."
Peyton reached forward and gently squeezed Hermione's hand.
"It will be alright, Hermione. It will."
Hermione just shook her head.
"I don't know if I believe that anymore. I don't. He was so mad."
Peyton just smiled at her.
"He'll come around. He will. And if he doesn't, I'll talk to him. I'll set him right. This isn't the end. He will start to understand soon. You knew he would be angry. You knew this would happen. We talked about this. But I don't think he is so far gone that he will not come back around. Honestly. You've nothing to worry about."
"Nothing? Have you met the man? There's always a reason to worry when James Black is concerned."
Despite herself, Peyton laughed out loud to that.
"I would say 'welcome to the club' but somehow I suspect that you were a member of that club long before I was." Peyton said, smiling at Hermione.
Hermione couldn't help herself but offer a small smile back.
"It's a life consuming club." Hermione said, the small smile creeping up her mouth.
"You're telling me. I have to worry about two of them."
Hermione just took another sip of her wine. "He was so angry, Peyton. So betrayed. He didn't even yell at me. And now he's out doing who knows what and he's distracted by how angry he is."
Peyton said nothing for a while. Taking a sip of her own wine and letting out a breath. "I can see where you're coming from. But you forget. He's surrounded by his teammates. He has Luke. Luke won't let him do anything stupid."
Hermione looked unconvinced. "I just have this horrible feeling that something bad has happened. That he's somehow gotten himself into trouble. That everything is wrong right now."
Peyton patted Hermione's hand encouragingly. "Hermione. It's perfectly natural to be worried. We all get that feeling from time to time. I'm absolutely sure that everything is fine."
Hermione was about to reply. When the doorbell rang.
Peyton looked around confused. "Who's that?" she asked out loud.
She reached over and picked up her phone. "No messages." She mumbled.
Hermione got up and followed Peyton to the door.
Peyton looked through her window and froze. Her pretty features went to stone. They didn't move. A look of nothing. Of solid, stony, nothing.
"Peyton?" Hermione asked gently. "Who is it."
Peyton just turned and looked at her. Hermione could see something in her eyes that she had never seen before in Peyton's eyes. Never. She hoped at that moment never to see that again.
Her blue eyes were terrified.
For a moment, Hermione's own fear started to build up. Her hand reached behind her to find her wand stored in her lower back.
She hesitated, thinking about drawing it.
She chewed her lip as her hand closed around the handle, ready to draw and use at a moment's notice.
It's finally happened.
The Death Eaters had found her.
She almost wondered what had taken them so long.
Peyton's trembling hands reached down and unlocked the door.
"Don't" called Hermione, but it was too late.
Peyton pulled the door open. And the two men stepped in.
One was rather short, and the other rather tall.
They both wore the khaki service dress uniforms of the British Army. Their uniforms were immaculate. Both wore the sandy coloured beret atop their heads.
The short one wore the SAS 'Winged Dagger' heraldry on his collars. They shone in the lighting of the living room. He had a small crown on each shoulder. Hermione knew him instantly to be a Major.
The tall man wore the same uniform, but in lieu of the SAS heraldry, he wore two small Christian Crosses. He was also a Major. But no one addressed him so. He would always be called 'Padre'.
They both had medals on full display.
But what Hermione couldn't miss was their faces. Sombre. Melancholy. The look that a person had when they were about to deliver news that would ruin someone's world.
Hermione watched as they looked at Hermione and Peyton. As if appraising them.
Hermione's own heart started beating at a ridiculous pace. Not again. She couldn't lose him again. Not again.
Please. Please. Not again.
Their eyes finally settled on Peyton.
Peyton stumbled back. Her face a ghastly white. She knew what this meant.
Hermione didn't. For all she knew, Peyton was the emergency contact for both Lucky and for James. It could be either. It could be James. It could be Luke. It could be both.
Hermione quickly moved to Peyton's side and put her arm around her. Peyton was stiff as a board. She barely reacted to the touch.
Hermione barely dared to breath as they were watched by the two sympathetic men.
The short man, the Major, began to speak.
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Tuesday September 8th 2012
The world slowed as the green skull exploded.
Someone grabbed the back of his body armour and pulled him from the room. He felt the yank on the strap that caused him to get thrown to his side, away from the door.
As he flew sideways, he saw Lucky was left standing in the doorway.
As Lucky made his own move to get clear, James had a sinking feeling that completely enveloped his chest.
Lucky wasn't going to make it.
"Lucky!" He screamed as he raised his hand towards him in a futile effort to reach his best mate, caught in the door.
There was a moment in time. A brief one. Just a hint. A nudge. Where he could have swore that as he reached for his best mate, his outline flashed. Just a flash. A shine almost. Almost like the stick work of the Death Eaters that had managed to stop the initial bullets.
The explosion blew Lucky out of James's sight. He felt the shockwave wash over him. And buffeted him into the banister. He felt himself tangled up in the dead man's legs as the explosion ripped amongst him.
The force of the explosion buffeted his goggles from his face. But James didn't notice at first, as the world remained green.
It took him a moment to realise.
The flames are green.
"Lucky!" He screamed into the inferno, but no one could hear. He couldn't even hear. He could just hear his voice going hoarse as he screamed into the explosion that never seemed to end.
But it did. Of course, it did. It had to end.
As soon as he could move, he tore to his feet and went looking for his best mate.
"Lucky!" He screamed again as he stumbled out into the darkness. "Not again, not again, not again. LUCKY!"
He finally found him, a crumpled heap on the ground, maybe ten metres from the hut.
He was lying on his back, eyes close. He looked intact. He looked like he had just spread out on the ground for nap as James had seen a thousand times before. Only this time it was different. It was very different.
"Lucky!"
James ran up to him and immediately checked him for injuries. He checked his breathing. Shallow, but present. He checked his heart rate. Weak, but present. He swept his arms and legs. No blood.
A clear fluid ran from Lucky's ears, where his large headphones had been wrenched from his head by the force of the explosion.
"Medic." He screamed into his radio. "Adam, get your arse here, rightfuckingnow!" He barked.
There wasn't much in it. Lucky did not look good.
"You're alright Lucky. You're alright mate. You're going to be fine."
But Lucky couldn't hear him.
"You can't do this to me mate. You can't leave. You can't leave us here mate. Please! Hold on! Please!"
He was begging. Begging with all he had.
Not again. Not Lucky. Please. Me. Not him.
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Tuesday September 8th 2012
It was the short man, the Major who spoke.
"Mrs Peyton Brookes?" he spoke, his voice a sombre that matched his face.
She could only nod.
"Perhaps you would like to sit down?"
Peyton shook her head.
"Perhaps you would like to say your fucking spiel."
Peyton's voice was strong. It did not waver. It did not shake. It was resolute. It was full of resistance. Hermione could only hope that she could ever be so strong as Peyton if faced with such difficult circumstances.
But then again, Hermione realised she had been told once. She had been strong. She had been resolute. She hadn't cried until later. She'd be damned if she would not face this news as resolutely as she had back then. She'd be damned if she would not be every bit as strong now as she had been ten years ago.
"Mrs Peyton Brookes, it is our solemn and damnable duty to inform you that your husband, one Lance Corporal Luke David Brookes, of the 22 Regiment, Special Air Service, was grievously wounded while deployed on a training exercise within this United Kingdom on the morning of Tuesday 8 September 2012. You can be assured that he has received the best possible care in his time of need, however his injuries are life threatening, and his condition is critical. The Minister of Defence, and the Queen of this United Kingdom has requested that I pass on my deepest and sincerest condolences at this time."
Peyton just stared for a moment. She stared at the Major as he finished.
"Where is he?" Was all she asked.
The Major and the Chaplain, turned to look at each other.
"Mrs Brookes-"
"Fuck you and your condolences Major. You said he was wounded. Where is he?"
"He's in transit. He should be arriving at St Michaels any time now."
"Right. Thank you."
The taller man, the chaplain, stepped forward. "Mrs Brookes, if I might –"
"You might not, Padre. If he is alive, then I want to see him. And don't give me any more bullshit about a training exercise. He was deployed as a fighting man, and I will know that he fell as a fighting man."
Hermione squeezed Peyton tightly.
"What about Corporal James Black?" Hermione had taken her inspiration from Peyton. Her voice also came out clear and strong.
Again, the two men looked at each other.
"I'm sorry, I don't know your-"
"I am James Black's next of kin. Is he also injured?" Peyton had jumped in, realising that they were about to do their whole 'only the NOK can be advised' bullshit.
"Lance Corporal Brookes is the only known casualty." The Major said finally.
She was ashamed of herself in that moment. Peyton had never been anything bar one of the best female friends she'd ever had, despite their short time having known each other. Yet all she felt was relief. James was okay. James was not hurt.
She hated herself in that moment. She hated that she felt that relief. Because Lucky was grievously wounded.
Lucky was down.
Hermione took a deep breath, and she knew exactly what she would do.
Grievously wounded.
There was no question. None at all. She'd be damned if Lucky would die. Not if she could do anything about it. Not if there was any treatment, muggle or magical that would help him.
Finally, Hermione turned to Peyton, still staring ashen, yet determined at the two men.
"Hey. Grievously wounded is what we do best. He isn't dead. Find me two better doctors to take care of him from here." Hermione said with soft determination.
Peyton turned and looked at Hermione. For a moment, Hermione thought that Peyton was about to jump down her throat. But instead, she offered Hermione a strong nod.
"Let's go."
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Tuesday September 8th 2012
When Hermione and Peyton had burst through the front entrance of St Michael's, the nurses at the station immediately looked up and quickly called out the room. There was no need for anymore talk.
They all knew what had happened. They all knew that any blessings, prayers or thoughtful words would just get in the way of a Peyton on a mission.
Hermione was thankful for her morning runs as she rushed to keep up with the pace set by Peyton through the hospital corridors.
Thankfully, they found his room quickly. It was their hospital after all. Hermione had followed Peyton into the room and found it full of camouflage men. The men she noticed from the photograph above James's mantlepiece were all hanging around. They all looked dirty. They look dishevelled. They looked depressed.
Upon seeing Peyton enter the room, they had all stood. But they didn't seem to know what to do or say after having done so.
Their faces were matted with dirt and grime. Their eyes lifeless and grim.
Peyton ran straight up to her husband, lying in the bed.
All the eyes had turned to Peyton as she entered.
All words caught in all mouths.
Gone was the light in Lucky's eyes. Gone was the happiness and confidence in the way he carried himself. The easy laugh, the jokes, the way he managed to lighten up any room he entered.
Present was an ashen, sickly-looking man, lying on a bed, with a series of machines that beeped around him.
Hermione, for her part, selfishly sought only one man. And he was there. He was standing in the corner.
To say he was distraught was to oversell distraught and undersell morose. He was gone. He was the picture of a broken man. A man so lost and lifeless that she had not seen since he had found out that his ill-advised venture to the Department of Mysteries had had the unintended consequences of his godfather's life.
And her own wounds.
She wanted to go to him. She wanted to hug him, to whisper all the sweet nothings in his ear that he had ever whispered to her. She wanted to console him. To love him.
To make sure that he knew that all would be alright. That Hermione was here. And medically, Hermione could fix anything. But her feet wouldn't take her there.
They just stopped as she stared at him.
At first, he didn't look at her. He was too busy looking at Peyton, sitting on the bed, checking Lucky over as if she didn't trust the previous assessments that had occurred.
To be honest, if James had been lying in that bed, she would have done the exact same thing.
Finally, a grief-stricken Peyton looked at James. She rushed into his arms, and he wrapped her up.
She couldn't hear what he was saying but it was rhythmic. The same mantra repeated over and over.
He saw Peyton break down. The sobs wrack her body as he hugged her. Hermione wrapped her own arms around her body. She just watched. Helpless. Well, not helpless, but helpless under this many surveying eyes.
She approached the bed and checked his chart, his vitals, all the many screens that he was connected to.
It was the big man who spoke up. He looked around at his teammates who were all standing around.
"Let's give them some privacy, lads." He said in a Scottish brogue. Hermione was momentarily struck by his resemblance to a smaller Hagrid. By smaller, she didn't mean by much. He gave Hermione a meaningful look, with a small nod, as he moved towards the door.
The other soldiers in the room all nodded and filed out, one at a time, leaving Hermione alone with the still embracing Peyton and James.
While they were distracted, she whispered a few of her own charms.
He had suffered significant trauma. It looked like blast injuries, as it had caused severe trauma to his internal organs. There was significant bleeding that had been treated as best it could. Hermione was impressed by the work of the primary care medics, physicians and surgeons who had done all they could to provide him care.
But at the same time, she was impressed that he was still alive. He had clearly borne the brunt of something tremendous. Something else.
Hermione had to stifle a gasp. The damage that had been rendered to Lucky was magical. And nasty at that. Dark magic. No wonder the muggle physicians had been unable to fix him. Even if they had done their best, there just simply no way they could have caused his body to do what it needed to do to survive.
Just what in Merlin's name had they been up to?
Glancing and seeing the two people still in the room were tied up in comforting each other. She cast one more diagnostic spell.
It shone in her mind's eye above his head.
There wasn't much. But there was a chance.
Without the help of a healer though, he would die. It was just a matter of time. The charts reflected that. The charts said all the things that the doctors would wander in and tell Peyton, when they worked up the courage.
It wasn't just their boss. It was their friend.
There was minimal brain activity. The machines were keeping him alive at this point. He wasn't even fit to donate many organs, as the trauma had been too great. It was a miracle he was still alive at all. It was another credit to the immediate medical intervention of the medics at the scene.
She looked closely at her charms that hovered above Lucky as he lay in his bed.
A few were red, some were yellow. She was disheartened by how few were green.
Hermione bit her lip as she examined the diagnostics. There wasn't much to work with.
But.
There were a few things. He still had a heartbeat. His Central Nervous System was still capable of firing, even it wasn't functioning.
She bit her lip again.
She could do it.
Ideally, she would have liked to take him to St Mungo's. But right now, that was out of the question. Besides, there was nothing more they could do there that she couldn't do here, at St Michaels.
It would take some potions and some complicated spell work, but she brightened knowing that in that moment, there was still hope for him. There was still hope that she could restore Lucky to his former glory.
She let out a relieved sigh.
She glanced across again at Peyton and James. Locked in their embrace.
She debated leaving, heading home to collect what she needed. Leaving them in their moment when she heard a voice that made her heart skip a beat, despite everything.
"Hermione."
She looked up and saw James approaching her.
His eyes, normally so bright green and full of life were dim. They were faded. Her favourite bright emerald reduced to a devastatingly dull green.
Defeat was there. It broke her heart to see it. Defeat and anguish. And blame. Not at her, but at himself. He was doing his usual thing of shouldering the responsibility.
"Hey." She said softly.
He walked up to her and wrapped her up into the biggest hug she had ever received from him. It completely enveloped her. He held her so close that she felt like she almost couldn't breathe. She held him so close she almost felt they would become one person.
She felt like he was applying one of her trademarked Hermione hugs.
This was a good and proper Harry Hug.
She wrapped her own arms around him and held him close. She pulled him close and felt that all too familiar feeling she had of never, ever, ever wanting to let him go.
She breathed in his scent. It was a mix of sweat, gunpowder and something else. Something almost magical.
What the hell happened here?
She never wanted to see him like this again. She never wanted him to feel like this ever again.
She felt his breath hitch as he breathed her in. It was warm against her neck as he buried his face into her hair.
She rubbed his back, gently, encouragingly. For a moment she felt like the whole incident at her parent's place had never happened. That that they were completely fine. She knew it was a false hope. But it was her hope. And she refused to let it go.
"It was my fault." James said softly into her neck, and she realised exactly what he had been whispering to Peyton before. "It was my fault."
"Shhh." She said back, soothing him as he held onto her. "It's okay James. You're okay. I'm sure it wasn't your fault."
"It was. It was my fault. It's on me. It's my fault." He hugged her closer as his voice hitched again. She could feel how distraught he was. How upset he was. How close he was to completely falling apart.
She was determined not to let that happen. Not a chance.
Finally, he loosened. He let her go and pulled back a bit. His hands on each of her arms as he pulled back. But he would not meet her eyes. They were lowered. They looked at the ground. She reached out and gently pushed his chin up to face her.
"Are you hurt?" she asked, hopeful by the fact that he was standing and walking.
He shook his head. "I'm fine. Lucky made sure of that."
Hermione saw the anguish in his eyes as he glanced over at his prostrate best mate. He watched for a good long minute before his emerald pools met her brown orbs.
"We'll talk about everything. Okay? We'll-" He let out a deep, hitching sigh. "We'll discuss us."
Hermione just nodded. She glanced over and saw Peyton cuddling up to Luke in bed. The distraught woman whispering to her husband in a coma.
She pushed away the feeling of relief that had come hearing him say that and focussed instead on the task at hand.
"Can we talk now please?"
James shook his head. "Not now, Hermione. I need to be here for Peyton and for Luck."
Hermione matched her eyes in a serious glare.
"This isn't about us. This is about Lucky. I just need a quiet word. If you don't like what I have to say, then I'll leave you alone. I'll leave you be, after I spend time with Peyton, I'll go."
She looked at him imploringly. "Please."
He stared at her. His eyes boring into hers. Searchingly, appraisingly.
Finally, he nodded.
"Okay."
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She took his hand and led him from the room and into an unoccupied hospital room.
He shuffled in after her, the epitome of a broken man.
He looked at her.
She at him. She gave a deep sigh.
"I can help him."
"What?"
"Lucky. I can help him."
James nodded, but she could see that he was trying not to get his hopes up. "Well, Hermione, you're a neurologist, I hoped maybe you could do something."
Hermione just shook her head slightly at him.
"This is beyond modern medicine. I just need to know exactly what happened. Be honest with me James. The more detail, the better. The more I know, the more likely I can restore that man to what he is supposed to be."
James looked at her. His eye widened in confusion.
"What do you mean?" He asked cautiously.
"Lucky wasn't injured through conventional weapons, was he?"
James looked around the room. She could see him shift from one foot to another. He let out a long breath from his teeth.
"No."
"I thought not." Hermione said quickly. "How did it happen?"
"You'll think I'm crazy." James said, averting his eyes from hers.
"You'd be surprised."
They locked eyes. His green pools met her brown obs. They matched eye contact for a long moment. She felt like he was appraising her. Like he was examining her. Like he was trying to determine if he could trust her, or himself, to say what he felt he needed to say.
He finally took a moment and explained.
James hurriedly explained the attack, the sticks, the flashes of light that stopped their bullets and the green hovering skull that had exploded.
He hesitated before he mentioned how it had almost looked like Lucky had flashed before the explosion had taken him.
Hermione bit her lip as she thought about everything, he told her.
"Okay. So, it was definitely magic." It wasn't an idle wandering. It wasn't a question. A statement. A confirmation.
"Magic?" James looked at her suspiciously. But there was something there. Something that hung behind his eyes as he said that.
"Magic." Hermione repeated. "More specifically, dark magic. Did the skull by any chance have a snake coming out of its mouth?"
James looked at her with confusion. "Hermione, how did you know that?"
Hermione just squeezed his hand. Neither of them had dropped it. Neither one of them had wanted to let the other go.
"I will be only too happy to answer any question you have about magic James, but I need to act quickly if we want to look after Lucky. I need to rush home and possibly to another hospital for some potions and a book or two. When I get back, I'm going to need you to somehow get Peyton out of the room."
James eyes just bored into hers. "No."
"What?" she said tiredly, her mind already racing through the draughts and concoctions it would take.
"She stays." James's voice brokered no argument.
Hermione sighed. "We don't have time for this. Fine. She stays. But I need to go. I'll be back as soon as I can be."
"Do you need a hand?" James asked, almost hopefully.
"No. But Peyton needs you. I'll be back soon."
James nodded.
"Hermione." He said suddenly.
She looked up at him.
"Would –" His voice temporarily failed him. "Would you really have left if I had asked you? Left me alone and not have helped Lucky?" His eyes bored once again into hers.
She gave him a small smile. "Not a chance."
He smiled despite himself.
Hermione gave him last look and a hug, she gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. She then stepped back and disappeared with a pop.
Leaving a very confused James Black behind.
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Tuesday September 8th 2012
Mr Smith opened the door to allow Mrs Jones to step out of the Range Rover and onto the dirt road. She gave him a thanking smile as she appraised her surroundings.
It was a shack. A simple shack. To anyone else, that's all it was, just a shack. To Mrs Jones, it was something else. It was the key. It was the first step towards something else. Something she had worked towards for much of her adult life.
She walked along in her comfortable but not appropriate for the conditions, flat shoes. Her immaculate black suit with skirt combination managed not to get dirty despite the dust being kicked out by the dozens of men and women moving around the area.
Several generators rumbled in the background, having set up lighting that flooded the area so everyone could see what they were doing.
There were forensics experts, studying all manner of DNA and magical residue, where they could find it. Examining the bodies of the deceased who were scattered around the property.
Photographers, documenting everything, every piece of evidence. Everything that would give them an indication of exactly what had happened and how.
How of course, was her primary concern.
The guards, standing at evenly spaced intervals, ensured that no one disturbed them their work, not that they would, she was confident of that.
She looked around at all the personnel – her personnel – that were hard at work and smiled. They had done it.
She had proven it. Now she just needed the details.
Mr Smith, for his part just looked around the place, almost bored. Almost as if he was standing in an empty field that did nothing to impress him with its aesthetics. It's why Mrs Jones used him as her primary guard. Nothing deterred him, and despite his imposing size and unnatural abilities, he did well to blend into the background.
Mr Rogers walked over. He was dressed like a bush, frankly. He wore what the military called a Ghillie suit. It was completely covered with all manner of strips of cloth that made him look like a walking and talking tree.
His face was painted black, to complete the camouflage.
"Mr Rogers, I assume you have good news."
Mr Rogers just nodded. A smile split his face, all the more visible because of his camouflaged features.
"Mission success Mum." He said M'am, but it was pronounced Mum. He wasn't actually calling Mrs Jones his mother.
"I can see there were come casualties." Mrs Jones said impassively. She really wasn't that bothered. None of the dead bodies belonged to anyone who could provide her with any more intelligence than her current prisoner.
It's why they had been chosen.
"Four dead Death Eaters Mum. The team went through them fairly easily I must say. They suffered a casualty though. Lance Corporal Brookes was critically injured by some form of magical booby trap."
Mrs Jones nodded solemnly, but she was impassive. Soldiers existed to risk their lives, and sometimes they got injured or killed.
"And what about Corporal Black?" She did care about that. He could not get injured or killed.
Mr Rogers nodded. "The repelling ward definitely gave them pause, but he managed to dispel its effects on the team."
Mrs Jones cocked an eyebrow. "Did he? How interesting."
"I don't think he realised what he was doing, Mum. But as they approached, it was clear that they were fighting to overcome it, and he just pushed them through, as easy as you like. I would say they could have gotten through without him, but he sped up the process."
Mrs Jones smiled. "Excellent. It would seem our old friend is starting to naturally use his gifts."
Mr Rogers nodded. "However, Mum, it would seem that the defensive wards tripped them up. The second he passed through them; the Death Eaters were alerted. Hence why the battle occurred out here and not inside the shack. None of the others were affected by the ward, except him."
Mrs Rogers looked around. She saw the dead bodies, being treated. Most of them had been shot numerous times by small arms fire.
"Did he show any further signs of magic?"
Mr Rogers nodded. "Yes Mum. When he tripped the magical booby trap inside the hut, Brookes threw him out of the way and copped the blast of magical energy as it flew through the door. It would seem that the good Corporal reached out and did some wandless magic that managed to buffer him a little. I would wager, Mum, that that's why Brookes is still alive, and didn't die on the spot."
"He is growing more efficient at these wandless endeavours, wouldn't you agree, Mr Rogers?"
Mr Rogers nodded. "Yes Mum. He's powerful. More powerful than we were expecting. I would wager that if he gets his hand on a wand, and some training, he will be hell of a force to be reckoned with. He is a natural after all."
Mrs Jones looked at him with a raised eyebrow.
"Well, we always knew he would be powerful. Ever since the start. Such a shame that it has taken so much to get him to see it."
Mr Rogers just nodded.
"On the topic of wands." Mr Rogers said, trailing off.
Mrs Jones just looked at him again.
"We have recovered three wands from the fallen."
Mrs Jones shot him a look. "Only three?"
Mr Rogers nodded and produced a small tablet from his pocket.
He pointed at the nearest body, that was out in the open. "Mr Sykes over here didn't die immediately. The good Corporal disarmed him of his wand before he continued to the shack. I've got the footage on here. He never returns the wand."
Mr Rogers than pulled a wand out of his pocket and tapped the tablet, handing it to Mrs Jones.
She watched as the team approached. She could see that the camera used by Mr Rogers had captured wisps that appeared like small, visible shadows and gusts of wind in the camera as they swirled around.
She watched as the four-man team approached and hit the first set of wisps. The way the team halted and the man in the centre, her favourite Corporal, talked to each of the team members. She watched as they all, save him, shook their heads before they headed towards the shack, following the riverbed.
She saw when they approached what looked like a highly translucent dome that surrounded the shack.
She watched the first two men pass through the dome. Then she watched the Corporal touch the dome, causing a ripple of magical waves to fly around it.
Next, she was watching a gun battle. The best soldiers they had to offer against several mid ranked Death Eaters.
Neither knew how to fight the other. Neither knew what the other was capable of it. It had been deliberate. It had been a deliberate effort to have them fight that way.
They wanted to know what would happen. If she lost an SAS team, it would be quite a loss. But the British Empire had been built of the back of its fallen. If they won, then she had finally found a way to prove that the magicals could be beaten on the ground with conventional weaponry.
She watched her favourite Corporal deftly step around and kill one Death Eater. How he had thrown the stun grenade that had disorientate a second long enough for his two team members to shoot him repeatedly.
She watched him as he approached and pulled something out of the downed man's hand. How he pocketed it.
She watched the rest.
His friend throwing him from the door just before the explosion occurred. How he had reached for his friend and a small shield surrounded him, before he was thrown across the ground by the green flames.
She had also seen the small shield surround James.
Interesting indeed.
Mr Rogers was correct. He never returned the wand.
Mrs Jones finished the footage, and her face broke out into a gigantic smile.
"This is simply excellent footage Mr Rogers. We've done well."
"He stole a wand, Mum."
"He did." She continued, the smile still lighting up her features. "He's starting to realise what he can do. And he has just proven that we can beat the magicals in open battle. How effective our fighting men can be against theirs. We've put him and his team up against both their government, and now their terrorists. We have emerged victorious each time. Now imagine what will happen when he starts to weave his magic into his offensive and tactical capabilities."
Mr Rogers looked uncomfortably at Mr Smith. Mr Smith had not reacted to the news. He never reacted to anything.
"He might just become the asset we need to ensure that has the magicals are where they are supposed to be. Afraid of us. Terrified of us. Not out there, taking memories, destroying the lives of our citizens, running around unchecked and unregulated. We can finally put them in a place where their wanton killing of our people can finally be finished."
Mr Rogers just watched her as she continued to smile.
"Corporal Black may just be the man who saves Britain from magic."
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
Tuesday September 8th 2012
James kept a steady grip on Peyton's hand as they both stared at Lucky, lying unconscious in bed. There were tubes and machines and all manner of modern medicine coming out of his body from everywhere.
The doctors had come and gone. They had been as gentle as they could be in the prognosis. It had not been good. Not at all.
It had been really fucking far from good.
They sat in silence for the longest time. Sitting in the comfortable chairs in the hospital room. No one bothered them.
Visiting hours did not apply to them, and no one would ever enforce them.
Her parents would bring Lily around later, but after James had given her a quick explanation that Hermione was going to help, they had decided to keep Lily and her parents away until Hermione could 'work her magic.'
"It's my fault Peyton." He finally spoke, his voice cracking slightly from his dry throat.
"No, It's not." She replied simply. Not taking her eyes from her husband.
He squeezed her hand.
"He told me not to. He told me that he had a bad feeling about going into the shack." He began, his voice breaking as he spoke. "I should have listened. I should have formulated another plan. I should never have let him throw me out of the way. I should –"
"James. Please stop."
James turned and looked at Peyton. Her blue eyes were looking calmly at him.
"You will go crazy if you keep doing that to yourself. Do you really think that Luke would have followed you if he didn't believe you were making the right decision?"
James grunted. "Yes. He would have followed me into hell. Look where that got him. It was clearly the wrong decision."
"Did you know that at the time?" Peyton asked as she looked back at her husband.
"I was so angry." James said. "I was furious. Lucky had convinced me that I should hear Hermione out, and I had calmed down. But a part of me was so tense and angry and livid about everything. What if I didn't want to listen to him because of that?"
"Do you truly believe that?"
James shrugged angrily. "I didn't listen."
"Do you ever?"
James was again speechless.
James gaped at her. "Peyton! Jesus, look at him. He's on deaths door. He saved my life. That should be me! That should be me. He should be here with you, holding your hand. Not me."
Peyton chewed on her upper lip.
"Should it?"
James's mouth was working overtime, but no voice was coming out.
"What are you talking about?"
Peyton shrugged. "I've long given up trying to figure you out James. Trying to figure out what it is that is so special about you. What it is that has pulled Luke, Lily and I into your orbit. But something has. Something has us there. You just pulled us in. And we float around doing whatever we can to help you."
James just sat there, stunned. "Well. I'm sorry." He said it slowly. Sadly.
"Don't be. It's not like it doesn't feel mutual. It's just an observation. I never would have met my husband if it wasn't for you. I never would have had my daughter. I never would have had all the weird and wonderful experiences we have had over the last ten years if it wasn't for you."
James just sat there silently.
"I wouldn't trade any of it for the world. Any of it. Even now. Looking at my husband how he is. All I can think about is the good that we have had. The experiences we have had. And as much as you blame yourself for what has happened, the man I fell in love with threw you out of the way and put himself there. He did that. He did that because that is who he is. And I love him for that."
James just let out another long breath. "It should be me."
Peyton turned to James and offered him another sad smile. "And don't you think that if it was, he wouldn't be sitting here right now telling me the exact same thing?"
James ran his hand through his hair. "Of course he would."
She just nodded. "Then don't you dare take away from him what may well have been his last act on this earth. You don't get that right. You don't get to feel sorry for him and for me and beat yourself up about it. What you do get to do, is earn the sacrifice. Earn the pain. You get to go out there and live for him."
James squeezed her hand as he looked again at his best mates face, sickly and gaunt in the bed.
"And for Rafe."
James closed his eyes at that. It hadn't been said unkindly. Far from it. It had been said in the manner of someone who was not accepting pity, self or otherwise at that time.
They fell into silence again. James's mind turned back towards Hermione. Back towards the woman who had come into his life and brought so much joy and happiness with her. Back to the woman who had lied to him.
He wondered if that was what Peyton was getting at. Was that what she meant by earning the sacrifice?
As if she could read his mind, and James bloody well expected she might be able to. She spoke again.
"She's going spare, James. You know that? You know how much that woman loves you don't you."
James paused before he nodded. "I have some idea."
"And you do have some concept of how much you love her, right?"
James paused before he spoke. It was only brief, but it was thoughtful.
"I feel like I'm only scratching the surface of how much I love that woman."
"Then why are you being a dick?" Peyton's tone was somehow not accusatory. It was just a simple question.
James turned and looked at Peyton. Her face, still stained with tears was scrutinising him. James didn't know if it was Peyton's raw ability to care about people, or if it was just a distraction from thinking about Lucky, lying on deaths door, but if she wanted to have the conversation, they could have the conversation.
"She lied to me Peyton, she knew me in school."
"I know."
"You know?"
Peyton nodded simply, unconcernedly, as if he had asked her if she knew that his favourite rugby league side had been victorious in its last match.
"Don't get shitty with me because you were too blind to see it. I'd wager she's been in love with you for a very long time."
James brought his lips together in a grimace. He didn't speak. Peyton continued.
"I cornered her about it just last week." Peyton continued. "She admitted it. Honestly, though, I didn't give her a great deal of choice. I put the pieces together pretty quickly and figured it all out. It's cute, honestly. It's amazing. She's been fantastic for you."
James let some air out from between his teeth as he listened.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"It wasn't my secret to tell."
"Peyton…" James began hotly. "Since when did we keep anything like this from the other person?"
"Listen. That woman loves you." Said Peyton, unperturbed by the frustration in his voice. "She loved you so much that she saw that you were still alive and she followed you. She came looking. You always used to say that no one ever came looking for you. And then she did. She came. And you fell for her instantly, James. Don't deny it. It was the most obvious thing in the world."
James took a big sigh. "That bloody footage, eh."
"I released it."
"What?" James said, slowly turning to face her. His voice hadn't come out angry, but there was a distinct edge to it.
Peyton just nodded. Her eyes had returned to Lucky, and James thought that she just seemed so, impassive.
"Peyton?"
"James." Her voice was resolute.
"Fuck me. You've no idea how much trouble that footage has caused us."
"And you don't seem to know how much that footage has gained you."
James baulked. His mouth was left hanging open as he tried to argue.
"Why?" He finally managed to squeeze out.
"Simple. Hermione."
"You knew she would come?"
"I knew someone would come James. You don't seem to know enough about yourself to know how you draw people in. You do. You just lure them straight in and they just belong to you. They have this loyalty to you. They just follow you. Ever wonder why Lucky has never sought out a promotion? Or why he followed you from Australia in the first place? It's you, James. You do that."
James just clenched his jaw.
"I knew she would come. If not her, someone else. Someone would. And it was her, and Jesus, James, I couldn't have asked for anyone better. Could you? Honestly? A woman who is willing to put your own wellbeing above her happiness, just to try and get your memory back? A woman willing to risk your wrath, just so she can try and salvage the person you were? And honestly James. It sounds like you haven't changed. You are the same person you have always been. I love that for you. I love Hermione for you."
James just slunk down in his chair.
"I'm a proper arsehole, aren't I?" He said miserably.
Peyton just nodded simply.
"I've cocked this all up, haven't I?"
Peyton just shook her head.
"No. Not yet. If you did, you wouldn't be walking, I'd have broken both of your legs. If you want my advice, hear her out. While you do so, stop fucking lying to yourself about your past, and embrace that your past has arrived, it has caught up to you. And your past is taking control of your future."
James didn't think it was possible to slink down any further.
"You know I hate you, right?" James said with a hint of a smile.
"Not as much as I hate you."
He leaned over and gave her a nudge. It caused Peyton to finally turn and offer a sad smile.
"I love you, James. I do. But you weren't meant to be here. But Hermione was. She was meant to see that footage. She was meant to find you. And she was meant to return you to where you belong."
James shook his head.
"No. I was never meant to be far from you and Lucky either Peyton. You both mean too much to me. Whatever happened. Whatever this feeling of 'not belonging' is, I will never regret the time I've spent with you two. The time I've had with Lily. And if you think I'm going anywhere far from you three muppets, then you clearly don't know me very well."
Peyton offered him another small smile and leaned her head onto his shoulder.
"And that time isn't done. Not by a long shot. Not until little Lily is married to my kid."
Peyton gave him a look. "I'd never let Lily anywhere near any dirty, stinky, misbehaving offspring of yours, James." Her mouth tilted up in a smile again as she spoke.
"Lily could be so lucky." Said James, leaning his head on top of hers.
They were silent for a long moment.
"You've got a bit of destiny about you James Evan Black." Said Peyton finally. "It came looking for you. If you want my advice, you best get after it."
James didn't reply to that. He just sat and watched the assisted breathing of his best mate, while he comforted his best friend.
"We need to talk about where you got that footage, Peyton."
She let out a long breath.
"Buggared if I know, James. It got sent to me anonymously."
James felt something rile up inside of him.
"If I had only known what it took."
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
Peyton and James could only hold hands as they watched Hermione do her work.
James had helped her pull the bed away from the wall so that she had full access. Before she had started, he had carefully placed a small, lucky, Australian flag patch on his best mate's chest. He pressed it with his hand. For luck. For Lucky.
He had been speechless as she had walked around his body several times. Her stick was out and ready, casting spell after spell. It was all convoluted hand movements, swishes, and flicks with her hand. It was all incantations and whispered Latin.
They could only watch as she would look at him and chew her lip thoughtfully. She was completely ingrained in her work. It was as if that while she did what she needed to do, that James and Peyton didn't exist. They were outside observers, and there was nothing they could do.
James watched as she reached again into a bag and pulled out another potion and unstopped it, dropping precise amounts into Lucky's mouth.
He was amazed at how many potions Hermione could fit into a small handbag.
She would then survey the results. Looking above him, as if there was a computer screen there that only she could see. James had to remind himself that it was very likely the case.
He watched as she would flip through a book or two and read certain passages, her mouth wordlessly moving with the words as she read them.
He watched how she would whisper to herself as she examined the results.
He watched as she would bite her lip and rock her head back and forth thoughtfully.
James couldn't help but get lost in her beauty. He couldn't help but get lost in the way her messy bun worked wonders to keep her hair back and out of her face as she worked.
He couldn't help but get lost in the fact that she would chew on her lip as her gorgeous brown eyes darted back and forth, reading something.
The way her smattering of freckles stood out on her face, particularly when she blushed. When she blew a thoughtful raspberry.
Her knew then. He knew then what Peyton and Lucky had been trying to tell him.
He knew in that moment, watching her work, watching her tirelessly work on his best mate.
He couldn't hide from his past forever. His past had come calling. And it had come in the form of Hermione Jean Granger.
And when he looked over her, that familiar feeling of warmth, love and adoration washing over, he realised that he didn't want too anymore.
He was done with running.
Finally, she smiled. It was a tired smile, but a triumphant one. She turned to Lucky and pointed her wand at his head.
He could see her tapping her toe to keep a beat as her wand carrying out a series of highly complicated movements around and she whispered something. Peyton and James held their breath. They did not want to disturb her. They were terrified of getting in the way. Terrified that even their breathing could cause her to get off course.
Peyton's nails dug into James's hand as she held it tight.
When she finally finished, a pale blue aura settled over Lucky, and that triumphant smile turned into a big, winning grin.
James let out a long breath he didn't know he was holding.
Hermione's bright, yet tired eyes turned towards Peyton and James.
"It took some doing. But he should be okay. It was touch and go for a while there, and he will be on a heavy course of potions for some time, but I can't see a reason that he shouldn't make a complete recovery." She said, triumph lining her voice. "He'll be out of it for a while, while the spells heal the rest of the damage, but tomorrow, the tests will show him having made a significant improvement. The doctors will marvel at such a medical miracle. And we will congratulate them for their efforts."
Peyton beat James to Hermione. Wrapping her up in a massive hug that caused Hermione to laugh.
"Thankyou. Thankyou. Thankyou." Peyton repeated, over and over.
James couldn't help but second the gesture.
Hermione just let out a relieved laugh under the bone crushing hug from Peyton. "Truth be told, he should have been killed instantly. He was somehow protected by a magical shield just before he was hit."
Hermione's eyes found James as she said that. Peyton just continued to hug her and repeat her mantra of thanks over and over.
Finally, Peyton separated from Hermione, who had no time to recover as she was wrapped up in another gigantic hug, this time from James.
Happy tears leaked from Peyton's eyes as she watched the pair of them.
Laughter bounced around the room from the relieved friends.
But James refused to let Hermione go, until they felt Peyton slap them both on the shoulder.
"You two." She said with a shake of her head.
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
Several hours later found Hermione seated in the hospital room. She was tired. Well, exhausted really. The magic required to heal Lucky had taken it out of her.
There had been some serious dark magic at play. She had questions. Oh yes did she have questions. Questions that were burning holes in her tired mind.
Questions that would have to wait. Questions that she didn't want to wait.
She looked over at James. He was seated next to her, cradling a sleeping Lily on his lap and his chest. He was gently bouncing her as he hummed to her.
When she had finished, he had sent the rest of the team home, sworn to secrecy and relieved to know that their beloved teammate would survive and be likely none the worse for wear.
Byron and Bits had promised that they would provide top cover for the team while everything was sorted out.
Mark had made a comment about having hoped that it would have knocked some sense into Lucky. Hermione, having known James as long as she had, knew that it wouldn't. If Lucky was anything like James, and he was, this would do nothing to temper him.
They had been outside the room when the healing had occurred, turning away nurses and doctors. They hadn't had to strongarm any, thankfully. Mac's mere presence could have such a persuasive effect.
They hadn't seen exactly what happened, but she had no doubt that they too had questions.
Everyone had bloody questions. She just didn't know who actually had answers.
James had told her that he was due for a very long conversation with his team about everything they had seen over the past few days.
That was not even beginning to mention the conversations they were due to have with Peyton. Peyton, to her credit had not asked any questions. She had taken everything in stride, as if Hermione had just put some paracetamol into Lucky's mouth and that had been the cure.
Hermione was grateful again for James's best friend. James's best friend who had quickly become one of hers too.
She was currently asleep, balled up on a couch in the corner. The relief of knowing that Lucky would be okay had left her exhausted, and James had encouraged her to sleep, promising to wake her if anything happened. Hermione had also encouraged her, telling her it would be some hours or even days before he made any further progress.
James hadn't slept. He had stayed awake. Keeping a vigil. Hermione had stayed with him.
She noticed when his humming turned into words as he sung to a sleeping Lily.
I'll buy you a horse, my love, and on it you shall ride,
And all of my delight shall be walking at your side,
We'll stop at every alehouse and drink when we are dry,
Be true to one another, get married by and by,
O' cursed be the cruel wars, that ever they should rise,
And out of merry England, press many a man likewise,
They took her Harry from her, likewise her brothers three,
And sent them to the cruel wars in High Germany.
Hermione could only watch him as he sung the words to a sleeping Lily. She was entranced in that moment. A fleeting thought passed over her mind again. The little girl with the bushy brown hair and the green eyes, sleeping on her father's chest.
She sighed as the thought washed over her. She didn't dare to hope. She didn't dare to hope at all.
Until a hand reached out and took hers. He gave it a slight squeeze. She looked up at him and saw him giving her a look. A nice look. A loving look.
A look that never failed to melt her heart.
"Thank you, Hermione." James said softly.
"Least I could do. Lucky's a good person, Lily deserves a father and Peyton a husband. And he deserves a long and a full life."
He shook his head. "As thankful as I am for that, and I am more thankful than you will ever know, I meant to thank you for coming to find me."
Hermione found a lump in her throat and found that she could only nod.
He took a deep breath.
"You don't have to be here. You can go home and have a sleep, hell you can go to mine and have a sleep if you like? You must be exhausted from all that work." He said to her, concern etched in his features.
She shook her head.
"If you're here. I'm here." Her voice was weary, but firm.
James opened his mouth to argue, but seemed to think better of it, so his mouth closed.
A thought seemed to come across him. She could almost feel his apprehension, bouncing around the room. Like it was on the end of his tongue but refused to just come out.
She wanted to ask. Oh, how she wanted to ask. But she knew just to exercise a bit of patience. To let him speak when he was good and ready.
It took some time. But he was eventually good and ready.
"What's my name?" He asked softly. It looked like it had been hard to ask, like he really wanted to avoid asking that question if he could. Like he was terrified of the answer.
"Harry James Potter." She said slowly, stroking the back of his hand gently. Looking at him concerned. She reached out and dared to run a hand through his hair, gently. How she loved his hair.
How she loved him.
He nodded slowly. Thoughtfully. He then gave a slight shrug, almost imperceptible.
"One out of three ain't bad, eh?" He turned to her and gave her a light smile.
Hermione smiled back at him.
"You underestimate yourself."
He raised an eyebrow.
"James Potter was your father." She said softly, with an encouraging smile. "Your mother's name was Lily. Her maiden name was Evans. And your godfather was Sirius Black."
James couldn't meet her eyes, as he looked down. He then looked at the sleeping Lily on his chest. He let out a long continuous breath that seemed to go forever.
Finally, he turned and winked at her. "Four out of four ain't bad, eh?"
She chuckled softly. "Yes James, you've done very well." She continued to stroke his hair.
He smiled at her again and squeezed her hand.
They felt silent for a short period. "Harry James Potter." She heard him whisper to himself, as if he was trying it on for size. He chuckled slightly. "Harry James Potter."
"Where are they now?"
He turned to her. His eyes alight with hope and expectation.
I hadn't prepared for this.
She felt a pang in her heart as he asked. She chewed her lip softly.
"I'm so sorry, James. So sorry. They-" She took in a deep breath.
He took a deep breath in between his teeth. The hope faded from his eyes.
"They're dead, aren't they?" James said, expectantly.
Hermione could only nod.
"I'm sorry James."
He just sat back in his chair and looked at Lucky. His eyes were a mixture of fatigue and melancholy. He nodded along, absently.
He nodded for what felt like a long time.
"This magic business. What does that make you?" James had stumbled over his words at asking. Like the question was particularly sensitive.
Bless him.
"I'm a witch." She said simply.
He nodded, thoughtfully.
"And me?"
Hermione smiled at him again. "You're a wizard, James."
He again nodded, thoughtfully.
"And your parents are?"
"Dentists, James. They are Dentists. They don't have any magical abilities, whatsoever."
James again nodded. This time with a small smile.
"Thank you for what you've done with Lucky. I was so angry with you. I was blinded by this fury that just sat on my chest and wouldn't let go. It was him that made me see sense. It was him that made me decide to hear you out, as soon as the job was done."
She nodded and turned back to the man lying unconscious in the hospital bed. He had already regained a small amount of colour, looking less pallid and more like an actual sleeping human being.
"It was Lucky that continually beat into me that I was lying to myself about my past. Lying to myself about a lot of things."
He trailed off. His eyes went back to Lucky. His expression had lost the mirth and thoughtfulness of the last few minutes and descended into darkness.
He was silent for a long moment. A long time. He only stared at Lucky.
"James?" She asked softly, reaching for his hair again. "Are you okay?"
She watched him close his eyes for a long time. She was almost afraid he had fallen asleep, until his eyes darted back open.
"I'm scared, Hermione." His voice had a hitch in it as he whispered the words.
She pulled her chair closer and dared to plant a kiss on his cheek.
"Why?"
James was looking down, away from her.
"Remember how I said that they did all manner of tests on me to try and get my memory back?"
She nodded. "You said it was horrible."
He opened his mouth to speak again. But no words came out at first. She could see his face, tense, fearful. She didn't like it. She didn't like it at all.
She resolved herself just to soothe him. To let him find his words. To let him speak when he was ready to speak.
She was not ready for what came next. Not ready at all.
"Did you know that that the average person lasts about 14 seconds under water boarding?" He asked finally.
She bit her lip. "No James. I didn't know that."
"It's effective." His voice has lost its emotion. Like he was explaining something as boring and mundane as making toast. "It gives you this feeling called dry drowning. There's a trick to it you see. They hold you at an angle, so you aren't flat. You're strapped in so you can't fight, and you can't thrash about. They place a cloth over your face, covering your mouth. Then they pour water on your face, so that the cloth becomes drenched. Then you can't breathe, and you feel like you are drowning."
Hermione had to consciously unclench her hand, as she was sure her nails were digging into James's hand. He offered no complaint, nor did he lessen his own grip on her hand.
"They break it off every now and then so you can get a few deep gasps of air, before it goes back on. Off and on. Off and on."
He let out a long breath.
"I don't know how long I lasted. Time didn't seem to mean much. But it was days Hermione. Days. Might have even been weeks. I have no idea about the passage of minutes, hours, or days. But you see, I couldn't give them what they wanted. They kept asking me questions about my past, questions I couldn't answer. Questions that I didn't know the answers to."
No tears welled up in his eyes as he spoke. He just continued in that matter-of-fact voice as if it wasn't a big thing.
"Finally, I kind of cottoned on. There was nothing to do but to endure. It's horrific. You feel like you are drowning. It's unavoidable, the world creeps in at you and death beckons. They don't need to rip out fingernails or break bones. They can just use a cloth and water. It doesn't leave a mark. But they wanted a reaction. It's why they did it. They did it because they wanted me to do something. They wanted something to happen. They tried other techniques for that aswell, especially in the beginning when I was still staying at the hospital, but waterboarding was their favourite."
Hermione had to clench her jaw to stop herself from crying out. The anger coursing like pure fury through her. James didn't need an emotional reaction right now. He needed to talk.
Hermione had to concentrate on blinking away the tears that had flowed to her eyes listening to his candid portrayal of his past.
"I'm sorry James. I'm so, so sorry."
He shrugged and continued.
"I realised that there was something about my past. Something that wasn't right. Something that they wanted to know. Something that they would do anything to get."
She stroked his hair as he took a breath.
"I realised that it was safer if I didn't know. If I didn't know anything about my past. If I didn't know, then I couldn't tell them. I couldn't give them what they wanted." James cast his eyes down at Lily to make sure she was still asleep. She was.
"See, when we do our training for the Regiment, they actually teach us how to resist torture. Though that was a bit late for me." He breathed out a little laugh. Hermione just stroked his hand. "And what they teach you is that everyone breaks. Everyone. Eventually. Eventually, you break. It's just being human."
James hissed some air out between his teeth before he continued.
"So, it was safer. It was safer that I didn't know. If I didn't know, I could never tell. So that's why I never sought out anything about my past. It just seemed like to do so would be put anyone that I might have known. Or I might have loved, in danger."
"I'm so sorry, James."
He shook his head slightly and offered her a small smile. He squeezed her hand again.
"It's okay. In the end, they couldn't get what they wanted. So, they debated what to do. Peyton had set it up so that I would try enlisting into the military. I tried to convince them, but they didn't want to let me go. Finally, they consented. They accepted that I could do that. But it was conditional."
"What were the conditions?"
"If I let on about what they had done to me. If I told a soul. Hell, if I tried to leave the military without their permission, they would find Peyton, and anyone else I loved, and they would subject them to the same treatment I had received, before killing them."
A tear welled up in James's eye.
"Of course, I want to know, Hermione. I want to know it all. Was I truly that bad a person? Was I truly that unloveable? Was I that horrible that no one came looking for me? Did I have family? Friends? What about my past was of so much use to the government?"
The tears started to flow, and his body started to heave slightly. He fought it. Valiantly. He did not want to wake Lily. He did not want to cry again.
"No. No James. You were not." Hermione's voice was strong and clear as she spoke to him. She wouldn't have this from him. She wouldn't have him thinking like this. "You were far from it. And you are loved. There are so many people out there who love you. Who adore you. And when you are ready, those people are going to be so grateful to have you back in the fold. You have no idea what waits for you."
James nodded, mutely. His face constricted with the grief of the past ten years.
"I love you, James. I do. So much more than you could ever know. I didn't know it when I had you in my life, but I loved you then, and I love you now. You may not know it, but James and Harry aren't as different as you may think. You are Harry, and Harry is you."
James turned and gave Hermione another small smile. The tears still glistened in his eyes.
"So, Harry was as insufferably a dickhead as me?" He asked, trying to smile.
Hermione laughed. "More so.'
James chuckled. It was like music to her to hear his genuine laugh again.
"But he was my best friend. I never had him like I have you. And now I never want to let you go. I will love you forever, if you will have me. I was trying to avoid telling you so that I could restore your memory. Of course, I knew how angry you would be, I knew that. But I had to try and get your memory back, so even if you chose never to speak to me again, you still got to be you again."
James shook his head.
"But Hermione, why the lies? Why not just tell me who you are?"
Hermione sighed. "I thought I was helping you. Honestly, I did. There is magic that can help restore your memory, should you want it, I think. It would take some further research. It can hopefully get you back everything that you are missing from the past, but there's a catch."
"A catch?"
Hermione nodded. "I was afraid that if I told you about everything, then it might spoil your memory. There is theory that memory tainted by another person's perspective won't stick and could lead to you having a whole bunch of memories that you can't recognise as your own. So, I was scared. I was scared that I might make your life worse, as opposed to better.'
James nodded. "Okay. Then make me one promise?"
Hermione looked at him expectantly.
"No more lies. None. We just be honest with each other. Memory restored or not. I love you. If you can't succeed, then that it is that. And you have completely disregarded the fact that my life is so much better for having you in it."
Hermione matched his eyes. "No more lies. I promise."
James nodded. "Let me be clear. I'd rather have you than my memory, any day of the week, and twice on Sundays."
Hermione could have melted at the smile he gave her.
"Only twice on Sundays? I remember a Sunday where it was at least three times..."
James chuckled merrily. "Dirty witch."
She winked at him suggestively. He laughed again, before becoming serious.
"Peyton told you about my treatment when I woke up, didn't she? You don't seem all that surprised."
Hermione nodded. "What she knew. Which wasn't much. You've got an amazing best friend there."
"And now I've got you too. And there is nothing more amazing than that."
Hermione blushed. She couldn't help herself.
"We aren't out of the woods yet." He replied. "They know about you. They know. I couldn't handle if anything happened to you, Hermione. Anything at all. If they even think that I've said a word…"
Hermione just gave him a look. "James, I am very capable of taking care of myself."
"So, I 've learnt." James said as he reached his pocket and handed a wand over to Hermione. "But Hermione, I take care of people who can take care of themselves for a living."
Hermione looked down at the wand she held in her hands.
"We have a lot of conversations in our future, James." She said simply as she stared it the wand.
"Yes." James said with a sigh. "Yes, we do. But perhaps those conversations might be able to wait until after a sleep. You look about as wrecked as I feel."
Hermione bit her lip again as she looked at the wand.
Finally, she consented.
"But those conversations need to happen."
He nodded at her tiredly, before she rested her head on his shoulder.
A shoulder that felt like it was designed for her head.
A shoulder that made her feel like she belonged.
A shoulder that was meant for her.
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Wednesday September 9th 2012
When Robards got to his office in the morning, it was to find a tall, blonde-haired wizard waiting for him. He had made himself comfortable, with crossed legs and a casual lean back in his chair.
He had his hands folded over his stomach, carefully parting his robes. His expensive robes.
"A Malfoy in an Aurors office. Who are you here to bail?"
To his credit, Malfoy stood, and offered the Chief of Aurors an aristocratic smile.
"Chief Robards . Well, no one today. You haven't rearrested any of my relatives, yet."
Robards gave the man an appraising look. He barked out a laugh. Shaking Draco's hand and sitting down.
"It's never a pleasant morning to find an unspeakable in my office."
Draco smiled. "Oh, you know us, Chief. We just like to go around and brighten everyone's day. Bit of chit. Bit of chat. Occasionally a bit of discussion around the kitchen. We do so love to gossip. Loose lips, all of us."
Robards just nodded accordingly along with the man. He had hated the father but had a begrudging respect for the son.
"How's your mother?" Robards asked, leaning back in his chair behind the office.
"Thick as thieves with Mrs Weasley about this whole wedding business, wouldn't you know?"
Robards smiled at the young man. "At least they are planning it. I'd tell you to practice your best 'yes, dears.' But somehow I don't think that's exactly your style."
Draco, for his part, returned the smile. "What's life without a bit of spice? Keep the missus on her toes."
Robards nodded. "I find work is more peaceful for that."
Draco softly chucked. "Don't take your work home."
Robards chuckled as he poured himself a tea, and Draco one too. They both took it white and none.
"A Malfoy and a Weasley. Who would have guessed? What's next, a Potter and a Riddle?" Robards said, sipping his tea thoughtful. He loved his tea. He didn't care if anyone else drank coffee, swamp water, or giants piss. A proper Tea, for a proper Englishman.
"Interesting you should mention a Potter and a Riddle." Said Draco, leaning down to his dragonhide briefcase and producing a file, which he placed upon the Chief of Aurors desk.
He would recognise that file anywhere. Particularly now that it had been placed upon his desk by another person before Draco.
"Ah yes. I was wondering whether they would send someone, or just a curt memo telling me to jog on. So, I'm going to factor in a guess here and say that it's bad news."
Draco leaned back in his chair, carefully sipping his own teas so as to not spill it down his expensive clothing.
"You've caused quite the stir down amongst the Cabinet of the Dead, did you know that?"
"I hadn't the faintest idea." He wasn't lying. He didn't. Even he as the Chief of Aurors had no idea about what happened in the Department of Mysteries, including the gossip and morale of the place.
"Well, you have. It seems you've touched a nerve."
"I'm good at that."
Draco smiled. "Of course you are, you're the Chief of Aurors. But this time, your stir was entirely warranted."
"How so?"
"Well, when the request first came down, they were quite upset you see. A bit of 'how dare they,' quite a few 'who do they think they are's' and even one or two 'the absolute nerve's.' They really don't like being questioned, the Undertakers."
"Who does?"
"Quiet so." Said Draco, with a smirk. "Point is. They begrudgingly did a check and unearthed an anomaly."
"An anomaly in the Department of Mysteries? I thought that you blokes worked with anomaly's."
Draco again smiled. "We do. But this one was particularly interesting."
"I like interesting." Said Robards , the hairs on the back of his neckstanding up. It was paradoxical. On the one hand, he so hoped to be wrong, so very very wrong. On the other hand, he always enjoyed being right about a hunch or bit of investigative work.
"You will like this one then. Both essences are gone."
"Why is that interesting?" Said Robards with a cocked eyebrow. He sat back disappointedly in his chair. "They were confirmed dead a decade ago."
Draco just nodded. "Yes. But these ones are gone. The globes that contained them are gone. Missing."
Robards leaned forward in his chair now. Well, isn't that interesting.
"Go on." He said.
"We archive everything. Everything. It's almost too much, the amount of work that goes into archiving. Every essence, alive or dead, dating back hundreds of years since the foundation of the Ministry, has been archived. We checked at your behest. They are both missing."
Robards sucked in a breath. "That's not good."
"That's not good at all." Draco finished for him. "It's highly unusual. The Undertakers are not happy. They have never misplaced these items. Ever. It's caused an internal investigation."
Robards just nodded. That was to be expected. "What does that mean."
Draco just looked thoughtful for a moment. "It means that something interesting is happening. And that someone has the connections to hide whatever that interesting thing is."
Robards again leaned back, sipping on his tea thoughtfully. The full horror of the situation beginning to seep into his mind as he appreciated what Draco had told him.
We have been infiltrated. We've never gotten anyone into MI5. But they may well have gotten someone into the Ministry.
"If you want my opinion…" Draco trailed off, fully intending to provide said opinion.
Robards nodded at him to continue.
"Perhaps the two individuals in question aren't as dead as we believed. Or if they are, someone wants us to believe that they are alive. However, the Department of Mysteries is content to follow the Auror Corps lead on how this should proceed."
Robards scratched his jawline thoughtfully.
"This information would cause a panic. We don't need a panic. We need calm and we need order. Imagine how people would react if they believed that Harry Potter, or Voldemort for that matter had survived and were lost to the Ministry."
"Panic is right."
"It could also serve to rally Voldemort's faithful back to his cause. The ones we weren't able to find and capture. I won't have that. Not until we deal with the current escapees."
Draco nodded. "Of course."
"This goes to the Minister, and the Minister alone. But we will redouble our efforts to apprehend the fugitives."
"That is your department, Chief, and I wouldn't presume to tell you how to do your job. But I must ask, what brought this on?"
Robards took a long and slow thought.
"What do you know about MI5?" Robards began.
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