Remember What I Forgot

by AlwaysThatGuy

Ten years after the defeat of Voldemort and fall of Harry Potter, footage emerges of a friend long thought dead. Finding him alive and unaware of his past, Hermione does what she does best. But with other factions in play and with nothing as it seems, how far will she go to find out the truth of what happened? H/HR.

19. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

Thursday September 10th, 2012

What struck Ron most about the immediacy of the conclusion of the battle, was the noise. It hadn't settled down into a nice easy silence, as he had almost expected. The calm after the storm apparently didn't exist.

His ears, still screaming at him from the cylinder that had exploded near him, and the din of the muggle weapons, failed to pick up anything but their own, incessant ring.

He shook his head, as the reality of the situation began to return to the fold.

He blinked and watched as the Aurors around him moved into action. The moved in to restrain the muggles on the ground with magical binds. Ron watched as several used the men's own handcuffs to restrain them, in addition to the magic.

Gyrek approached him, fresh from having cleared the nearby store where the last grey clad muggle had leapt into.

"He's not in there. He floo'd before we could get him." Ron could barely make out what the man said over the ring in his ears.

"Floo'd?" Ron asked, making sure he had heard correctly.

"Yeah. We heard it activate and he's gone. We've cast every intruder detecting spell in the book, and several that aren't, and he's not in there. He must have got away."

Ron just nodded. Normally he would rise to anger at such a situation. He might even kick something. But he didn't. He just nodded. The adrenaline had long worn off, and fatigue had replaced it.

"You alright, Ron?"

Ron nodded again.

"I don't think I got hit."

Gyrek stared at him. That wasn't what he meant, and Ron knew it.

He looked down again at the grey wizard. Unconscious against the wall.

Draco had bound and trussed him resolutely. The wizard wouldn't be able to move, even if he wanted to.

"Dartmouth got hit. Further down the Alley. Near Madame Malkins. There are also a bunch of wounded civilians down there. Has the call gone out for the Mediwizards?"

"Yes. The wounded are being triaged as we speak." A new voice joined the conversation.

Ron and Garth Gyrek turned as Gawain Robards approached them, his face grim.

"I would ask what the hell happened here, but I would imagine that we are still trying to figure that out."

Ron and Gyrek nodded at him.

"Thought so." He turned to Gyrek. "This is a mess, and we need to contain it. Gyrek, start touching base with the other Golds around. I want a cordon. A wide one. Then I want the Hit teams moving from building to building. I want them all cleared. All civilians in the area are to be detained for at least an hour. No Polyjuice surprises, you understand?"

Gyrek nodded.

"Good. Hold everyone that isn't injured in the courtyard outside Gringotts. Keep them separated, in case we have any 'leprechaun gold' hiding amongst them. Confirm identities. This is already a mess, let's try and stop it from getting any worse."

Gyrek nodded again and turned to step off.

"And Garth?"

Gyrek turned.

"No press. Minister will be here within the hour. They will handle that. Spread the word."

Gyrek gave him another nod and moved off.

"And me, sir?" Ron asked, ready to get involved. To shake off the post combat funk that had settled in.

Robards gave him a long look. Then he clapped him on the shoulder.

"You did well, Ron." He said, with a look of almost grim pride on his face. "You kept your head, and that was an excellent plan. I could probably do without the risking yourself at the end part, but apart from that. You contained them and set a textbook ambush."

Ron nodded. He didn't feel like he had anything to be proud of. Anything at all. Any amount of deaths were too many.

"The protective measures on Diagon Alley may be handy to protect the infrastructure during wizards' duels, sir." Ron turned to his boss. "But they hampered us during this fight. No ability to transfigure the environment to help us out. They had us on range and accuracy. It's a miracle that so few of us were wounded."

Robards nodded. "Probably why they attacked here."

"Speaking of wounded sir, how's Dartmouth and Bicksly?"

Robards face went back to being only grim. "Dartmouth passed."

Ron said nothing. Dartmouth had only just returned from paternity leave. He didn't envy the people who had to tell his wife and newborn.

Bloody Hell.

"But Bicksly will survive. He'll keep the leg thanks to you. Try to focus on that."

Ron nodded. It wouldn't help. But he would try. The what if's already threatened to spill in from the back of his mind.

"Now, thoughts?"

"This one." Ron indicated to the grey wizard who was carefully bound, with Draco Malfoy standing guard over the top of him. "He's one of two wizards. Second one got away through floo. Obviously, muggles can't get in here alone. However, I suspect he was controlling the muggles through imperius."

"Why?"

"When I stunned the wizard, that muggle," Ron indicated to a carefully handcuffed muggle, lying on his back where he had been stunned. "Should have shot me, but he lowered his weapon."

Robards nodded. Ron could see something akin to relief creep into his eyes, but it passed before he could be sure.

"Let's find out who he is, shall we?"

Ron nodded.

"Do the honours, Weasley."

Ron walked over to the Wizard and bent down. He reached under the man's jaw and undid the helmet, letting it fall to the cobblestone ground with a clatter. He then pulled the man's mask off his face.

He recognised that face instantly. Avon Mulciber Junior.

Ron stared at the man's unconscious form. He looked over at Robards who hadn't taken his eyes off the grey wizard.

"Malfoy." Robards breathed out, almost as if in relief. "If you would be so kind to wake your former Death Eater 'brother-in-arms' up for us. Let's hear what he has to say."

Draco, who had been looking at the wizard with steely eyes of hatred, nodded.

He lowered his wand and enervated the man.

Consciousness returned to Mulciber at the rush. And he strained. Ron could see the veins in his neck and his forehead bulging as he fought against his binds. But it was to no avail. He was secured by magic and by cuffs.

"Hello Avon." Said Robards calmly, but Ron could see the cold fury behind his eyes.

"Robards." Mulciber said, his timbre calming as he realised where he was and what had happened. "What a pleasant surprise."

"A surprise it is." Robards agreed. "Not that you would attack and kill people. That is well within your form. I'm more surprised that you would use muggles to do it. And carry a muggle firearm to boot."

A mocking smile made its way over Mulcibers hard, angular, traditional Pure blood features as he showed his perfect teeth.

"Sometimes you have to make a deal with the devil."

"Oh?"

Mulciber laughed.

"You've no idea what you're doing, do you Robards. You've no idea what's coming for you."

"Why don't you help me out? I never was one for Divination."

Mulciber cackled. "Oh, a good one Robards, a very good one."

"I've no patience for your antics today, Avon. The Wizengamot will likely have Warrants for Occlumency and Veritaserum drawn up and authorised before we even get you back to the Ministry. We will know the truth soon enough. You can keep trying to talk in threatening riddles, but I don't scare that easy."

"No. No you don't, do you Robards? Nor you, Weasel. No fear for you two. Or even you, Malfoy." He spat the last name as if he was calling someone a Mudblood. Draco did not react.

"Traitor you are to the cause. Turned on us. Turned on your own blood."

"Spilled some of my own 'blood' too." Said Draco with a drawl that was clearly intended to sound bored, and it did, if you didn't know him. But Ron could see the hint of anger behind Draco's pale eyes.

A small commotion turned their attention. A group of Aurors were leading a group of ten people from a shopfront, leading them back down towards where the people were being staged. Ron was happy to see that all the Aurors had their wands out. They were lowered, but they weren't taking any chances.

Mulciber cracked another smile.

"Don't worry Robards. I'm only too happy to help you out."

Before anyone could react, he began yelling.

"Look at what they can do! The muggles! Look at how they reap death and destruction! Look at how they kill! And you let them get this way! You let them grow strong! Your Ministry betrayed you! It sold you out to the muggle lovers and the muggleborns! Sold you out to a painful and bloody death! Only the Dark Lord can save you now! Only the Dark Lord can defeat and control the Muggles. This is just the begin-"

"Silencio!" Ron called. Mulciber continued to yell, but only his own mind could hear his poisoned words.

Robards look at the crowd, who started to move quickly. They were eager to put distance between themselves and the captured Death Eater. There were a few glances over their shoulders as they half jogged to get away.

He knelt in front of the Death Eater and unsilenced him, but kept his wand on him, ready to return him to noiseless at a moment's notice.

"Say what you want to say, to me, Mulciber."

Mulciber smiled savagely.

"Oh, it's really simple Robards. MI5. Yeah, that muggle department you can't learn anything about? They know plenty about you. They know plenty about all of us. Broke us out of Azkaban, they did. Set us free. Gave us wands to use and everything. Said they would support attacks on our world. Now they put their soldiers at our disposal."

"And why would a pureblood like you, work for muggles."

Mulciber spat on the ground in front of Robards, who didn't flinch.

"We don't work for anyone, Robards. We serve. We serve the Dark Lord. The muggles are tools to be used. Seems they found the Dark Lords body. Potters too." He said with a hint of anger at being accused of working for muggles.

No one reacted to his words. Which caused him to smile as the realisation.

"Well, well, well. Not quite the fool we made you out to be, are you Robards. Not quite the dim-witted one. I'm almost impressed."

Robards said nothing, he kept his face impassive as the Mulciber continued his speech of self-importance.

"Sometimes you have to make a deal with the filthy people in order to get what is most precious. And when we have him, you best believe that the Dark Lord will be sure to show them their place in the world. Join us, Robards. Only we can save the Magical world from Muggles."

Robards nodded absently, ignoring the recruitment request.

"Where are the bodies?"

Mulciber just smiled.

"You don't know. Got it." He looked around thoughtfully, then he stunned the Death Eater.

He stood and turned to Draco and Ron. "You're tasking has become more imperative now. Find the bodies. Find out what happened. Clearly the Death Eaters are after them too. I'll have to split some resources away from MI5, in order to reinforce our defensive positions. We will just have to go off the intelligence we have. It is less than ideal, but we don't have time or resources."

Ron and Draco nodded.

"Do you believe him, sir?" Ron asked, hoping against hope that he was wrong.

"I don't know what to believe, Ron. Overly talkative, wasn't he?"

Ron could tell that Robards had momentarily dropped his guard.

"He always was." Draco drawled. "Even at Voldemort's Court. Couldn't ever keep his mouth shut. Always had to boast. If only he had ever had anything to boast about. I'd wager that if he is here, the one that got away is Avery. Those two are as inseparable as the Golden trio used to be."

Robards nodded.

"It's entirely possible that MI5 has made a deal with the Death Eaters. And it is possible that muggles recovered the bodies. Merlin knows that we didn't." He said, standing up and looking around as other Aurors moved around the scene.

Ron shifted slightly. He felt guilty. He didn't like lying to his Robards, even if it was for his best mate. Robards was a great boss. Hard but fair. He had worked his ass off for the betterment of the magical community.

"MI5 and muggles are far more dangerous than we give them credit for. If the Death Eaters were seeking some kind of provocation, this makes sense. The wizarding world will be in an uproar after this. Death Eaters or no, they will call for blood. They will be afraid. We've long lived in a world where we believed we were the top. We were wrong. The muggles just showed us exactly how wrong we were. It's a master stroke, if you ask me."

"Why's that?" Draco asked.

"Think about it. The Minister and I came through together fighting Death Eaters. That's our regime. We fight Dark Magic at every turn. Dark Magic. Not the 'mundane', not muggles."

Robards looked thoughtfully as the investigation's teams of the DMLE began to arrive on the scene.

"Kingsley has pushed through reform that has helped the muggleborns in the community. Helped the integration process. We've had reforms in the Auror department, restricting the use of magic on the muggles. Easy to paint us as having gone soft on our non-magical brethren."

Robards pinched his nose between his fingers. It was in that moment that Ron saw just how tired his boss was. How much time and effort he had been putting into recapturing the Death Eaters. He worked his people hard, but he worked harder to make up for that.

"It won't be hard for the press to twist this. Turn it all on muggleborns and muggles, as if they were our blind spot. Seek retribution and blood for this. Claim that the Death Eaters weren't involved, and that we are seeing them around every corner. That all of this is a gigantic cover up. That we should have done more to protect the people. That we should go on the offensive. The usual nonsense. Some people will believe it of course. And some will not. But either way, there will be a significant fallout from this."

"But." Robards turned and looked carefully at Ron and Draco. "In answer to your question, I don't know. We need to explore the very real possibility that they were. That these Policemen were sacrifices. That they were put under the imperius curse so that they would actually do what needed to be done. Use their training for evil, as opposed to law enforcement. As he said, we don't know enough about MI5 to know if that is something they would do."

Ron could sense that more was to come.

"But if MI5 somehow supplied them with wands," Robards wondered aloud. "Where did they get them from? And why would they need to steal more?"

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Thursday September 10th, 2012

Hermione took her seat behind her desk, and James moved a chair to sit next to her. She captured his hand in hers and felt the warmth of his familiar comfort. She gave it a squeeze, which he returned in a reassuring way.

Mrs Jones easily took a seat across the desk and leaned sat up straight. She looked perfectly at ease as her eyes wondered lazily around Hermione's office. It took in her books, her personal effects (of which there were only a few), and the way her desk sat in its highly neat and ordered state.

It existed in this state and would not change. Hermione believed in her ordered existence, and she had assembled her face in an expression that she hoped mirrored that.

Mrs Jones's two cronies stood either side of the door. Mr Smith, the big bald bastard, with his facial expression of utter blankness, and Mr Rogers with his restless energy and bored countenance.

But there was something about Mr Rogers that drew Hermione's attention. It was a sense of familiarity. It drew her to him, in a way that felt unnatural and almost foul. It was like she knew him. Like they were acquainted. As though, they had known each other way back when.

Hermione noticed the arrogant smirk on the man's face as she stared. But she continued to do so, unconcerned with his reaction. She knew him. She knew she knew him. But she could not for the life of her explain why.

Hermione felt an almost imperceptible shudder down her spine when it was a sense of rightness that was wrong about him. Something that was so eerily familiar but completely wrong that made her uncomfortable in his presence.

It must not have been as imperceptible as she thought though, because James gave her hand another reassuring squeeze.

She prided herself on her excellent memory. But she could not understand why she didn't remember him. It was aggravating.

She did her best to put it out of her mind as she gave James's hand another squeeze. He squeezed it back. Hermione kept a hold of his hand for the comfort of his presence and the feeling it gave her. A feeling of actual rightness with the world.

Well, that, and to stop him reaching for the pistol that she knew he still had in his possession.

"How can we help, Mrs Jones."

Hermione opened the conversation.

Mrs Jones replied with a warm smile.

"I would like to start, Doctor Granger, if you don't mind, with saying how thrilled I am to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you. It's lovely to put a face to a name, and a presence to a career."

Hermione nodded.

"We share something in common, didn't you know, Doctor?"

Hermione said nothing. She felt James's hand in hers, giving it a squeeze.

"We both share a love of reading. I love to read. Always have. I've devoured all sorts of literature. But I read a most interesting book. It was called, 'Hermione: A History.' An fascinating biography of an fascinating woman."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Mrs Jones.

"An unauthorised biography."

She hated the book. They had taken the title of one of her favourite books and made it about her. Perverted the classic. The book was well researched and contained a lot of accuracies, in some ways, but it was grossly inaccurate in others.

"But a biography, nonetheless. Quite an interesting read to learn so much about you. To learn about all the feats you have accomplished in your young life. Top of your class at Hogwarts, then into Healing, not to mention your studies at Oxford that have led to you becoming both a Medical Doctor and Magical Healer. You did them both concurrently, unheard of! And I don't know how you managed to top both those courses! It is very impressive. I've also become aware of your work that has gone into medicines that have improved the lives of people all over the world, magical and not."

Hermione said nothing. She did not need a recount of her accomplishments. She knew them. She did them. She was there.

"And not to mention your work during the last Wizarding War. You fought alongside the famous Harry Potter." Mrs Jones's eyes flicked across to James, who was doing his best to keep a neutral expression. "Sought about destroying Horcruxes all around the country. And finally, you helped him fight his last battle and topple Voldemort's regime for good. It is very impressive to meet a woman of your calibre."

Hermione gave Mrs Jones a look. "You are remarkably well informed, Mrs Jones. Particularly for one who exists outside of magical society."

Mrs Jones gave her an illuminating smile. "We are an intelligence organisation, Doctor. Being well informed is what we do. And we do it well."

Hermione nodded. "Well then, Mrs Jones, if you are so good at intelligence, perhaps you would explain to me why you feel like you need to torture a young man for information on his past?"

A small silence hung in the air. Mrs Jones smile faded, but not in shock or fear, but in the tone of the conversation. It was clear from her expression that she knew that Hermione knew. That she knew that James would have told her.

And she didn't seem to mind.

"I will make an assumption, Doctor, before I answer, that James Black here is still our old friend James, and not yet returned as the late Harry Potter? The-Boy-Who-Lived. The Chosen One. Or whatever moniker you saw fit to give him.

"He was always just Harry to me."

"Of course. Just Harry."

Hermione caught the slight flicker of disappointment on Mrs Jones's face.

They stared at each other in silence. James was silent. He didn't like this, but he didn't see any spot to jump in. This was a war of women and he felt like neither of them had even remembered that he was in the room.

It made him uncomfortable, not to mention concerned. Would Mrs Jones make good on her threat? Would James have to fight his way out of the office?

"But you have also arrived at perhaps the most interesting point. We didn't know. We knew he was special. Of course we did. Just look at him. Be in a room with him and anyone will see that he is a very special young man. Of course, we had no idea just how special he was. Until surprisingly recently."

Hermione fixed Mrs Jones with another glare.

"No, no. It's almost embarrassing. When we used our more – aggressive – information recovery techniques on him, we had no idea who he was. Only that he was alive, and that he was a wizard. Had we known back then, well, we could have run things differently. But we didn't."

She gave Hermione an embarrassed smile that wasn't.

"I'm afraid that sometimes we can be too protective of our information, and that can hinder us from extrapolating and putting it all together. The tyranny of bureaucracy and secrets, you understand."

"But when you learnt, you never sought to tell James. To return him to the magical world?"

Mrs Jones didn't flinch at Hermione's accusing tone.

"No."

"Why not."

Mrs Jones gave Hermione another one of her smiles. She was enjoying the game, clear as day. Hermione was not. She was tired. She was cranky. And the last thing she wanted to be doing was not cursing the very woman who had tortured her partner.

The woman who had tortured her favourite person in the entirety of the earth. A person who had managed to break him. Without mercy, without any form of clemency. Hermione would not forgive, nor would she forget.

"Because we need him."

"You need him?"

"We do."

"You, MI5, needs James Black?"

"No. Us, the non-magical population of the United Kingdom needs James Black. We also need Harry Potter. We figured you were about the right person to reunite those two individuals."

Hermione paused. That made no sense to her. None at all. It had been something that had annoyed her since the information had all started to unravel. Why James? Why him? Why the hero of the wizarding world?

"Why?"

Mrs Jones smiled again. It was a surprisingly sad smile. Hermione struggled to tell if it was genuine. "You aren't aware about what happened today, are you?"

"Don't change the subject."

"I'm not. It's very relevant."

Hermione's pause gave her away. She glanced at James who was fixing Mrs Jones with an angry glare, the same one he had had since they sat down. But there was a tinge of confusion to it.

"I see. You don't. Diagon Alley was attacked early this afternoon. By members of the London Metropolitan Police."

"What?"

Mrs Jones nodded sadly. "We don't know the full extent, only that there were casualties. The Policemen have been taken into custody and are being held. We don't know yet how many dead there are, I'm sorry to say. We aren't perfect. The information coming from the area is still mixed and confused."

Mrs Jones's face was contorted into one of grief. It was very convincing. But not enough that Hermione or James bought it for even a moment.

Hermione glanced at James and could read between his lines. His friend Monty and their team. They would have had enough firepower to launch an assault. But if they were muggles, then how had they got in? They would have needed wizards.

Wizards.

"It wasn't us." Mrs Jones answered the question that hung heavy in the air.

Hermione fixed her a glare and was frustrated to find that he couldn't read the truth or lies in her voice. Mrs Jones's had stopped playing the game for fun, and had started playing the game at the level she excelled at. Hermione felt woefully unprepared.

Hermione hated how she felt like she was on the back foot.

James squeezed her hand in what was meant to be reassurance, but there was a hint of nervousness in him.

The familiar crony sniffed loudly.

"You seem to know a lot about it." Hermione said, with more than a little accusation in her tone.

"As I said Doctor, we are an intelligence organisation, we receive a lot of intelligence from a lot of sources. And this is accurate and ongoing. But I will tell you again. It wasn't us."

"And you expect us to believe that a rogue group of Policemen acted alone and free of any command to attack a civilian location? A group of men that I have personally worked with and trained alongside. They were dedicated coppers." James said, the disbelief evident in his voice.

Mrs Jones just turned to him and offered him a small smile. In that smile, Hermione could see that she had just received confirmation. James knew about the missing tactical Police.

"We don't attack civilian targets, James."

"It takes a village to raise a child, but a child with a drone can raze a village." James replied, anger evident in his voice.

Mrs Jones shook her head gently, as a teacher might when given a smart-arse response by a beloved pupil.

"We are domestic intelligence, James. Not MI6. I'm very well aware of your issues with them. Our margin for civilian casualties is zero. Besides," she said, fixing James with a pointed stare. "I will not tolerate attacks on civilians. Ever."

"I'm sure the Republican Irish will be very happy to hear that."

Mrs Jones fixed him again with another look. It was not unpleasant, but chastising. Hermione caught that it didn't seem to be an act.

It surprised her.

Does Mrs Jones actually like him. Does she actually see herself as a mother to him?

"I've come here to try and pull things to a head, Doctor, not to aggravate them. I'm sure you don't need me to tell you that things are tense between the Magic world and the normal one. Things are teetering on the brink of war. A war I'm sure we would all rather avoid."

"Well why have you come to us?"

"Because you live in both, Doctor. Our issue is with Death Eaters and Dark Lords. People who attack our citizenry. Our issues with your Ministry are best dealt with diplomatically. I'm sure after everything you've been through you can relate to us wishing to protect our own."

"You are avoiding the question, Mrs Jones."

Mrs Jones actually laughed at that. It was a genuine, throaty laugh.

"I knew I would like you, Doctor. I just didn't know how much. Who better to try and broker a peaceful relationship between the magical world and the ordinary one than the great Harry Potter, who has already saved one of worlds? Think about it, Doctor. He's a hero to your people. He brought down the greatest Dark Wizard in an age. He defeated him. A Dark Wizard, who did not seem overly fond of the non-magical kind. Who included in his goals the subjugation of anyone without magic.

What better a champion for bringing our worlds closer together than Harry Potter? To opening diplomacy and negotiations? And beside him, the greatest Witch of her age. I believe that was the term thrown about, wasn't it? Quite the moniker for a so called 'muggleborn' Witch, wouldn't you say?"

Hermione stared at Mrs Jones. She was searching, with thinly veiled desperation, for any form of lies in Mrs Jones's eyes.

"But I fear present events may prevent that from happening." Mrs Jones finished.

"How so?"

"Well, we can hardly go public with James now. How do you expect your community will handle the emergence of Harry Potter? How will they handle the boy-who-lived, living again? The questions that they will ask? Where has he been? What has he been doing? Is Lord Voldemort also alive after all this time? Are they working together?"

Hermione didn't like where Mrs Jones was going with this. None of that bothered her. She had known when she set out to recovery him that those questions would be asked. She had been prepared for such a hurdle.

She had the uncomfortable feeling that's Mrs Jones could read her mind.

"And how will they handle that news, when they couple it with the fact that the group of Policeman that attacked Diagon Alley were actively trained by Harry Potter. It wouldn't be a far stretch to see their response. I'm well aware of how quickly they painted young Mr Potter as a Dark Lord to be. But now it turns out he has survived this dark battle and has come back to them at the head of an army of 'muggles.' He has already bested four Aurors, four Death Eaters, and now attacked the civilian population."

Hermione fought her absolute best to not react to what Mrs Jones was saying. She really did. She was not a politician.

"I see that you agree."

Fuck.

Hermione didn't know what to think. How convenient this would be for Mrs Jones if she had orchestrated this. How she had managed to turn this so that Harry could not be returned to the magical world, even if he wanted to be.

It was lies in lies with Mrs Jones. And Hermione hated it.

"What do you propose?"

Hermione's tone was hard.

"We wait. Our fight is with Death Eaters. Anyone who would attack our population and kill us. James is to be deployed again tomorrow. We have found more Death Eaters. We may even be able to get some justice for what occurred today."

Hermione wanted to say no out of hand, but at the same time, she didn't exactly know that it was her choice. She didn't even know it if it was James's.

"At the same time, we have a message to be passed along to your Ministry. I understand you are on friendly terms with the Minister of Magic. We just want him to receive a simple message, one government to another."

"And what message is that."

Mrs Jones smiled in a placating way.

"We want to talk."

"Talk?"

"Yes. Talk. Diplomacy. You know how it is. We don't want war."

Hermione's head was spinning.

Mrs Jones reached into her bag and produced a sealed letter. She placed it on the desk and slid it over to Hermione. Hermione could see it was addressed to Kingsley Shacklebolt. It had the seal of the Office of the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom on the envelope.

Hermione stared at the letter, but she didn't pick it up.

"How are we to know that this is not a trap?"

Mrs Jones smiled again. "It isn't. But the details are included in there of the security detail he shall be allowed to bring with him. You know how these things work, Doctor, he will be received as if he was the Head of Government of any sovereign nation recognised by the Crown."

Hermione chewed her lip as she stared at the letter. Communication and talking was a start. It could bring the tension down. If what Mrs Jones was saying was true about the attack, then open communication would be highly important if any peace was to be preserved.

"Why do you need me to deliver this letter? I was under the belief that Minister Shacklebolt had ways and means of contacting the Prime Minister."

Mrs Jones actually threw back her head and laughed.

"You mean the toad man portrait? We destroyed that a long time ago. We don't tolerate listening devices in our offices, Doctor, surely you must understand that. We don't tolerate them from anyone, magical, ally, or enemy."

Hermione glanced over at James, who shrugged at her. How had they managed to destroy what was meant to be a powerfully enchanted portrait?

"So, James, I will see you and your team tomorrow. I'm sure you will soon receive a phone call from your chain of command with the details. Alpha and Bravo team will be joining us on this one as well."

"He hasn't said yes, yet."

"Come now, Doctor, you know he will. Our James is not likely to let his team go into battle with Death Eaters without him around to protect them with magic, are you James?"

Our James? Ours?

Hermione turned to James. She was right. He had already agreed, even if he hadn't voiced it. I guess he was not going to be much of a spy anymore. Hermione couldn't help but feel that he had moved from spy to pawn in the space of a single conversation.

"I thought so, I'll see you tomorrow. Bring your wand, if you would please."

James narrowed his eyes as her.

Mrs Jones stood to leave but paused with a flourish of well-practiced theatricality.

"Oh, I almost forgot." Mrs Jones said reaching into her bag and pulling out two more envelopes. "As a gesture of goodwill, I thought I would hand these over."

She passed the two letters to Hermione who immediately recognised them as parchment. As if on autopilot, she reached out and took them.

And then she dropped them immediately onto her desk with a gasp she would never have been able to hide.

Mrs Jones gave her a sad smile. A motherly sad one.

"Yes, those letters have been held in evidence for over ten years now. They were taken from James by the Avon and Somerset Police during their investigation into the mysterious death of who we now know to be Lord Voldemort." Mrs Jones crinkled her nose at the mention of the name, not in fear, Hermione could tell, but disgust. "We took custody of them when we took over the investigation. We have never been able to open them and see their contents. But something tells me Doctor, that you might be able to."

Hermione didn't even look at her. She was too busy staring at the two envelopes that sat on her desk. The invitation to parley sat forgotten.

The first envelope had a stylised Otter burned into the centre. The second, a Jack Russell.

She fought back the tears and turned them over with trembling hands. They were sealed by a wax seal that held the mark of a Stag.

Finally, Hermione looked up at Mrs Jones.

"Take them as a gift from MI5." Mrs Jones said. "I think they might be for you and Mr Weasley. Perhaps it shall provide in there some of the answers you seek."

Hermione's throat was dry, and she found she couldn't speak. James scooted his chair closer and gave her hand a squeeze.

"We have no need for them. But we do have a need for the contents of the Prime Ministers letter to be delivered to the right people."

She picked up her coat and walked towards the door, where Mr Smith held it open for her.

"It was very lovely to meet you Doctor. I look forward to a future where we can be free of all this nastiness, and we can safely return James Black to where he belongs."

She then turned to James and gave him a smile.

"Until tomorrow, James."

"Mrs Jones..." James said, his voice steady.

She turned and raised an eyebrow at him.

"If you touch a hair on her head, I will burn your entire fucking department to the ground." He said, his voice filled with a barely contained fury that Hermione had come to accustom with James the soldier.

"James." She shook her head sadly. "The best way to get you to talk to Hermione was to make sure it was clear that you should not. Sometimes, my boy, you are too easy to direct. Handy attributes for a soldier. You have nothing to fear from us."

Then they left.

And Hermione let the tears fall.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

James quickly checked behind the door to ensure that they had gone before he returned to a Hermione who had picked up one of the letters and was holding it in a trembling hand.

"What are they?"

James said as he moved down and began to stroke Hermione's back, the entire shitfight of a situation they had gotten themselves into being momentarily forgotten.

She turned and clutched herself to him, sobbing into his shirt as he began to run a hand through her cools. He soothed her and whispered sweet nothings to try and calm her down.

"They are letters."

James breathed out a laugh. "I kind of figured that."

Hermione pulled herself away and gave a half sob, half laugh as she wiped her eyes. "They are Patronus sealed."

"Ah."

James said as he kissed her on the forehead.

"What does that mean, again?"

She laughed again and blinked away the last of the tears that threatened to fall.

"These letters were written by you, to Ron and I. but you sealed them so only we could open then."

She picked up the letter emblazoned with an otter and showed him. "See that Otter? That's my Patronus."

James nodded. That seemed vaguely familiar.

"The Jack Russell is Ron's. Hence why you remembered the 'Three best friends' story. The stag is yours. These letters can only be opened by whoever sent them and the addressee."

"That's pretty cool."

Hermione blinked away her tears and picked up the letter. "Yeah. I-uh-I was the one who figured out how to do it."

James turned her head to look at him and beamed at her. "That's amazing!"

She blushed and looked down. "It wasn't much really."

"I don't know much about magic, but that kind of feels like something to be pretty proud of. But I feel like I'm on scratching the surface of your achievements."

She smiled shyly at him. She knew what he was doing. She could read him like a book. He was trying to get her to focus on something positive. Something that she had achieved, so that she could shift away from what had just happened with Mrs Jones.

"Maybe I need to give this 'Hermione: A History' a read."

She swatted him on the chest.

"You do and you die."

"Been there, done that, apparently!"

He winked at her, and she laughed a watery laugh, before she tuned back to the letter.

"I'm scared to open it, if I'm honest. I don't know what it will contain."

"It's pretty obvious if you ask me, they are clearly 'deathies'."

Hermione turned and gave him a scrutinising look.

"What's a 'deathie'?"

"You know, a Death Letter. Pretty common amongst soldiers and the like. Probably Harry's -er- my, last words to you both."

Hermione dropped the letter on her desk as if she had been burnt.

She turned back to him. "You seem to know a lot about these."

He gave her an incredulous look. "Of course, I do. I'm in the Regiment. I've had to deliver a few in my time." He said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "And I've written a few."

"I'm sorry. What? You've written them?"

He just shrugged. "Yeah. It's pretty common sense. Looks like I've already had practice!" He said it with a small grin and a wink. He said it in a manner that indicated that he was trying to lighten the dark mood that had fallen over Hermione. It didn't work.

"You have death letters written?"

He gave her a look that was clearly meant to be placating.

"Yes. Yours sits in my locker in a small tin. It's right there with Peyton's, Lily's, and Lucky's."

"I have one?"

"Of course. I wrote it on that first operation that I went away, where I shot Ron. I realised during that operation just how much I love you, so I wrote one. Lucky knows where it is. But if he goes down with me, one of the other boys can get them."

"What does it say?"

"Hopefully you never have to find out." He said, his eyes fixing her with a smile. She didn't like it. She didn't like how comfortable he was with the concept of his own mortality.

It occurred to her then about the trauma she had seen in his mind. It hadn't been about the fear of dying, though he indeed had that, but all the trauma had been the loss of people and the things he had been forced to do. Death was just a part of him now. It was just a part of his world.

"How about you open this one, and you can see what it says. I'm hopeful you never have to read my more current one."

She turned and looked at it again. She didn't want to.

"It may contain answers for things that have plagued you for the last ten years."

"I don't know if I can."

"Hermione. I'm right here. I'm next to you. I'm alive, I'm breathing, and I'm well. I'm tired, sure, but well. I'll sit right here with you if you like while you read it. And if you need any reassurance that I am still alive – well – you've proven pretty adapt at trying to break my hand."

She gave him a small, watery smile, as she glanced back at the letter.

"You won't go anywhere?"

"Not unless you ask me to."

"Okay."

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Dear Hermione,

Normally, I'm led to believe that these start with the old 'if you are reading this, then I'm dead.' Well, that's what the muggle movies you showed me said they should start with. But this one is going to start a little different.

You are reading this because I am dead.

It's a subtle difference, but it comes down to the nuance. See, I did learn some fancy words from you. I guess all that time we've spent running and hiding and living in tents has done me some good.

Anyway, the difference is, and this is the part that you are going to hate me for, is that there was no 'if'.

My death was an inevitability. I hope I managed to say something meaningful to you before I left, but knowing me, I probably made a big mess of it. You know how I am with emotions.

This letter is actually the hardest letter I have ever had to write. So please bear with me. Ron's was easy. Simple stuff. Eat, drink, make merry, and be happy. Yours is not so easy. I know you will take this harder.

Point is, there was another Horcrux that we didn't know about. It was me. I was the last Horcrux. So even if I beat Tom, I don't get to walk away, because he will live on from the segment inside of me. I can't give him another chance. We fought too long, and too hard, and lost too much, for us not to take the final step.

So, I'm dead. Either way.

And I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.

I know you are going to read this and be so very angry with me. You will be thinking 'well if you had told me, we would have found a way. There has to be some way, somehow, to get the Horcrux out of you.'. Don't make that face, it's what you are thinking, and you know it.

(Before you ask, I can be as much of a prat as I like, I'm dead. You can't smack me in the chest anymore.)

The point is, there isn't. There's no way. If you need, track down Severus Snape. He can confirm everything I have told you. The only way to destroy the horcrux is to destroy the container.

I'm the container. I have to be destroyed.

I wanted to write to you to offer some explanation now, knowing how very angry you will be with me, and how you might even hex my dead body after this, which might be funny. I suggest 'Levicorpus'. Wouldn't that be a sight to see? I'm sure Fred and George would appreciate it.

I didn't tell you for a very simple reason. I'm a coward. I have faced all manner of terrifying things, and I have always done it with you by my side. You've never abandoned me. Not once, not ever. I knew that if I told you ahead of time, you wouldn't abandon me again. I had to abandon you. I had to leave you behind on this one, Hermione, because it was the only way I could actually do it. I need to do it knowing that I was doing it for you. Knowing that if I did this, you would get to live. You would get to move forward with your life and put this entire mess behind you.

I need you to do that for me Hermione. I need you to go forward and live. Have a career, start a family, do all the normal things that were denied to you these last few years. Be extraordinary. Be amazing. Show the world all the brilliant things you can do.

But please, please do them knowing that you were the absolute best friend I could have ever asked for. You have never, ever, failed me.

I never had a choice. This was all chosen for me. Hence the 'chosen one'. But you did. You always had a choice. And every single day of every single long, hard, month of the war, you chose me. You chose to get up out of bed and fight alongside me. Or you got up out of bed and were just there for me.

You could have abandoned me years ago. But you never did. You never, ever did anything but be the most loyal, caring and loving friend I could ever have asked for. I could never repay that debt that I owe you. I wish I had been half the friend to you that you were to me.

My only wish is that I could have seen you on the other side. Without the war. Without the stress, the fear, and the anguish. I really wish I could have seen peace time, Hermione.

Because Hermione, I love you, I think I always have. I would have loved nothing more to be with that peace time Hermione for the rest of my days. To see what she became of herself. To watch her grow into her potential and go out there and be the incredible person that she is, that YOU are. I would have been happy doing that.

On the bright side though, I get to say I did love you for the rest of my days (because I'm dead, get it?)

I know telling you like this is a bastard move, but I never had the courage to say it. Especially when I found out I had to die. I think if I told you, and by some miracle you had felt the same way, I would have found it impossible to do what I needed to do. So please don't begrudge a dead man his reasonings.

At least, that's what I told myself every night when I went to bed and wanted nothing more than you.

My whole life I wished for a family. I wish I had seen earlier that I had one. And you were the main part of it. You were more than I deserved.

Anyway. I need to wrap this up at some point. I have no idea if you returned my feelings, but I wanted to let you know, because I'm not risking losing you now. I've already lost.

I'll miss you.

All of my love,

Harry

P.S You had better survive the war alongside everyone else. I can't wait to see you again in the great beyond, but it had better not be for a long time. Besides, it will give me time to be with my parents and with Sirius.

P.P.S Look after Ron for me. It will be rough on him too. But he seems to be growing pretty close to Luna, and I suspect they will have each other. But also, allow him to look after you. You don't have to be alone. You don't have to be strong for anyone but yourself Hermione. It's something you do admirably.

Hermione's eyes darted over the last words, and she did exactly what seemed normal and rational to her at the time.

She smacked James on the chest.

Then she crawled into his lap and rested her head upon his chest.

That's when she bawled.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

"You look like shit."

The freshly apparated Ron did, by any stretch, look like shit.

His red Aurors coat, usually prim, proper and perfect, looked decidedly threadbare. The gold stitching on the cursive and ornate 'A' that was around both of his biceps had become to go loose. James could see several loose threads sitting there.

His face was smudged with smoke and grime, and his eyes were red rimmed and looked sore. It complimented his hair, which could almost match James's for its roughness.

"It's been a shit day."

"So, I've heard. Beer or scotch?"

"On the rocks, if you don't mind."

James dutifully poured him a scotch and slid it over his outdoor table to him.

"Where's Hermione?" Ron asked, as he collapsed into the chair next to James, and placed his feet up on a chair with a long groan. He leaned back and rested his drink on his forehead, enjoying the cool sensation on his skin.

"She's having a shower. It's been a long day here, but nothing on yours."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. But I'll wait until she gets here to explain. You alright?"

"I'm alright. Not physically injured. That's more than can be said for a lot of other people."

"Yeah. We don't know much, but I daresay it wasn't pretty."

"Mate. I've seen pretty. I've seen gorgeous. Hell, I've even seen beautiful. But that? That wasn't any of those things."

"Welcome to the muggle way of war."

Ron waved his hand in acknowledgement, but he said nothing.

"I don't know if I will ever be able to forget everything I saw today."

"You won't." Hermione's voice came softly from the doorway as she joined the boys on the deck. Her hair was wet and allowed to flow loosely down her back, over her top -one of James's Regiment shirts - and a simple pair of track pants.

She sat down next to James and took his hand, as was her custom, while she sipped her own scotch.

"Oh. How did you do such a good job?"

Ron said, raising an eyebrow to James. James looked down at his drink and offered a soft sigh.

"I haven't."

Ron turned to look at James, and saw Hermione softly shake her head. It was their code. Don't ask.

Ron just nodded and looked back over the darkened back yard, enjoying the soft sounds of nature of the evening.

"How did you?"

James spoke and Ron looked over at him. But James wasn't speaking to him. He was looking intently at Hermione.

Hermione for her part offered him a soft smile, and a kiss on the cheek.

"I haven't. I just got on the front foot and sought help early. I still have nightmares, and the occasional panic attack. But I'm much better than I was."

James nodded. There was definitely more to that.

Ron scoffed out a laugh. "Always practical. That's Hermione."

James gave him a half-hearted grin.

"You know." Ron said lightly. "I always imagined that you came back to us, but in my head, it went a little differently."

"Did it?"

"Yeah. You knew who you were, to start with. And you were all like 'joking fellas, I'm not dead. Nothing can kill me. I'm Harry Potter'. And then we'd all sit around a table like this on, I don't know, Friday's or something. And Luna would come. Then kids. And the like."

"Would Hermione and I be together in this dream of yours, Ron?"

He hummed a reply.

"Only if she'd have you."

"What if I wouldn't have her?"

Ron's laugh was a bark. It was directed at Harry. "Please. You pined over her since as long as I can remember."

"Did I?"

"I'd call you daft for denying it, but you don't remember. But yes. You did. Everyone knew."

"I didn't." Hermione said, and she ran a hand up James's arm.

"Yeah, but like. We were pretty close to staging an intervention about that."

Hermione laughed lightly. It was good. She could dwell on that part of the letter. It also meant she could avoid bringing up what needed to be discussed. Another heavy topic on a day that had already been far too long.

And it was their last day for who knows how long.

"Anyway. We'd sit out here and we'd talk about quidditch. You'd be an Auror, and Hermione would be a crusader." He offered Hermione a crooked grin at that. "Or a healer, I guess. And we would do these Friday's just for us. We'd leave Sunday for the big Weasley gatherings. And the war would all just be this thing we went through. It was in the past and we earnt our peace."

"Sounds nice." Hermione offered.

"It is."

"Friday's, eh?" James said.

"Fridays."

"Pencil it in."

Ron turned and look at James who was looking wistfully out over his back yard. He huffed out a small laugh.

James talked then. "The kids would gang up on each other of course. My eldest would either be a complete shit of a thing, or the most studious kid you ever did see."

He turned and winked at Hermione.

"A shit, of course." He laughed.

She smiled. Her swat on his arm was completely without enthusiasm.

"And she'd run around and she'd boss everyone around. And we would find it very cute. But her little brother would go along with it, right up until the worst possible moment, then he'd cause absolute chaos." She said, a hint of wistfulness in her voice.

Ron laughed along.

"Then my eldest son. It's a boy, by the way." James clapped him on the shoulder in congratulations and Hermione offered him a broad and genuine grin. "He'd be all gangle. Too tall, too skinny, not enough food, despite eating everything edible. And a few things that aren't. And he'd come barrelling through the middle like a troll in a potions shop. He'd start trying to make them laugh and leading them astray."

"They'd be a handful." Hermione said softly. "The Potter and Weasley kids. All in Hogwarts together. Probably be what actually drives Minerva to retire. Not to mention their parents completely around the bend."

"They'd get away with murder at the Weasley gatherings." Ron said, again raising his glass to his head. "On the brooms. 'Can we fly dad? Can we? Can we?'"

"Ask your mother." James said, turning and smiling at Hermione.

"No. Fine. Yes. But be careful. And get your father to watch you. If any of you should fall and be injured, you can tell him that he's sleeping on the couch." She said, turning and smiling at James, who gave her a soft kiss on the lips.

"I'd take Fred and George's bet that a Potter child falls off his broom first. Because like father like son."

"What can I say, I'm a parachutist now. Falling from the sky is what I do."

Ron didn't know what a parachutist was. But it didn't matter. The sentiment was true enough.

A comfortable silence settled over them as they all pictured the future. A future that should have been or would have been. Or still could. They didn't know.

"I'm starting to think I'm busy on Friday nights." James said, a smile on his face, causing Hermione and Ron to laugh.

"Yeah. Busy hanging out with the Weasley's."

"Speaking of." James said, trailing off. "Hermione and I had a chat about her birthday."

"Happens every year."

James shook his head. "Same day too, I'd wager. But no. Hermione said she usually does her birthday at the Burrow for lunch?"

Ron shrugged. "She does. It's always a good turn out."

"Reckon we can do that again this year?"

Ron looked him up and down, and then at Hermione.

"Are you serious?"

James merely shrugged. Hermione did too. It was almost scary how in sync they could be. It was almost like being back at Hogwarts.

Almost.

"Of course! I mean, yeah, there will have to be security protocols in place, because of Dad. But that can certainly be arranged. The Burrow has become one of the most protected buildings in Wizarding Britain since he got elected in as Deputy Minister! Mum would love to have you. And Merlin, when everyone sees you're alive, they'll have kittens."

James shrugged. Hermione smiled at him. "See?" she said.

He shrugged again with a laugh.

"I thought you didn't think it was smart to come forward now."

"I don't."

"Then why the change of heart."

"Because it's Hermione's birthday. And she deserves to be surrounded by family for her birthday."

"But what about-"

"They don't want me to. So, I'm going to do it. Besides, it's family. If your father is the Deputy Minister, might be worth going to him first. We can figure it out from there."

Ron turned and looked at Hermione, who was chewing her lip thoughtfully. "This what you want, Hermione?"

"Want? Yes. More than anything."

"You don't think it's a good idea though."

"I don't know." She said truthfully. "It could go either way."

Ron just nodded and turned back. "I'll talk to Mum. I think she expected to host it anyway."

"Thanks Ron."

"You bet."

A comfortable silence settled over them as they went back to imagining the Friday nights that could have been. How wonderful they could be.

James and Hermione had agreed to let Ron bring it up only when he was comfortable.

"What do you know about grey clad Muggles with 'Police' on their chest?" Ron asked, turning to James, who kept looking out in the background.

"They are London Metropolitan Police. called CT SFB. Counter Terrorist Specialist Firearms Branch." James said simply, keeping his eyes on the garden and trying to hold on to the nice feeling of hope that had been coursing through him. "They are a Police tactical team. They do high risk arrests, sieges, the like. I'm led to believe they are a little bit like your 'Hitwizards'. Though they are likely employed in a different capacity."

Ron nodded. "Any reason why six of them would attack Diagon Alley."

"None. Especially not those six."

Ron groaned. "Please tell me you don't know them."

"I trained with them. Few of us go for a beer or two when I'm in London."

Ron let out a long, obnoxious groan of a breath, which was completely forgivable after the day he had had. It would have been very annoying otherwise.

"Are they okay?"

Ron nodded. "They are in custody and being held at the Ministry. No one really knows what to do with them to be honest. I suspect they will be given Veritaserum to determine the truth. But they won't be physically harmed. Likely obliviated before they get returned to the muggle world. When that may be though? Who knows."

James shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Memory loss was still a touchy topic.

Hermione recognised that and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

"What happened, Ron?" Hermione asked pointedly.

Ron took a long sip of scotch, so much so that he had to pour himself another. Then he recounted the story of his day.

"So, in the end. One got away by floo, six muggles were captured, and one grey clad wizard. We lost twenty-three people killed. Thirty-nine were wounded."

James and Hermione gave a respectful silence at the news.

"I'm sorry, Ron." James said softly.

Ron waved his hand. He hadn't processed it all yet, there would be time for that later.

"Who was the grey wizard?" Hermione enquired, pushing him forward to he didn't dwell.

"Avon Mulciber Junior."

"The Death Eater?" Hermione asked.

"The same."

"Wasn't he a bit of an expert in the Imperius Curse?" Hermione recalled. "Really good at making people do horrible things?"

"Yeah. That's him."

"Well obviously he imperiused the Police officers and forced them to attack Diagon Alley."

"Obviously…"

"Ron. What aren't you saying?"

"Did you know." Ron said, taking another sip of his scotch. "That our good friend Mulciber the second has a bit of a talent for the theatre?"

Hermione fixed him a look like Ron was trying his own best to have a talent for the theatre.

"Oh yes." Ron said with a scoff. "Really talented. Waited until we started to clear the innocent from the area so we could lock it down and treat the injured when he started. 'The muggles are coming to get you. The monster under your bed. Only Mouldyshorts can save you from them'. He got it all out before we could silence him."

Hermione scoffed. "Surely no one will believe that from a known Death Eater."

"Well. That's where it gets interesting, isn't it?" Ron paused for effect. "He told us some things. Told us that the muggle government was responsible for the Azkaban breakout. Told us that it was agents working within MI5 that are responsible for their freedom. Said they got paid in wands to attack Wizardkind."

"Under Veritaserum?"

"Not yet."

"But Ron." Hermione said. "It doesn't make sense. Death Eaters hate muggles."

"They do." Ron said, again taking a big sip. "But according to our new friend Mulciber the chatty, MI5 has Voldemort's body."

"What?"

"Yeah." Ron continued. "They reckon they have proof that they showed to the Death Eaters. It's why they started working together. The Death Eaters reckon if they can get their hands on the body, they can restore him. Idiots don't realise we destroyed all the Horcruxes."

James looked at Hermione, who was again chewing her lip thoughtfully.

Ron noticed their silence and looked over tiredly. "What?"

"I don't know, Ron."

"17 years I've known you, witch. I can tell when something is up. What aren't you telling me?"

She glanced at James, who spoke. "Mrs Jones came and saw us today. She reckons that it wasn't them who were responsible for today."

"Mrs Jones? That's who Seamus said he worked for in enchanting the weapons."

"She's deputy director of MI5, mate. She's the one who has led these jobs I've been on. Including the one where I shot you."

"Bloody hell."

"Yeah."

"Reckon she's behind it? I mean, honest to Merlin opinion?"

James paused and took the advantage to take a long sip of his scotch.

"I honestly don't know." He paused. "She's certainly ruthless enough. But she claims she doesn't attack non-combatants. I don't see what returning Voldemort to power does for the Muggle community? I can't see that being supported by anyone."

"Hermione?"

"I honestly don't know. She tortured you, James. She tortured you when you were at her mercy, so I don't know if I buy her line about non-combatants. James is deploying again tomorrow. Maybe he can actually find out what's going on. But she knows things Ron. More than you expect. She knows who James really is, who I am, who you are. She knows about the magical world. She's very well informed."

"Seamus told her I expect."

"I expect he played a part." She said carefully.

"What do you mean?"

"You've no idea what it's like Ron. To be part of both worlds. To be part of the muggle world and part of the wizard world. You grew up in one. One world. Many of us have lived in both. From what you told us about Seamus, it makes sense. The magic world had done him wrong, and he sought to right that wrong. Can you truly say he is the only person disenfranchised enough, or desperate enough, to sell information?"

Ron nodded thoughtfully.

"Whole world's going to shit then?"

"It would seem that way, yes."

"There is more, Ron." Hermione said, reaching into her bag and producing two letters, and a folded piece of paper.

Ron poured himself another drink. "Oh? Heap it on me Hermione. It's the day for it."

She placed the letter down in front of him. "This letter is from the Muggle Prime Minister. He wants to open diplomatic relations with the magical community."

Ron eyed the letter warily. "Sounds like a trap."

Hermione shrugged. "Sounds like the only way to open negotiations between the worlds to try and resolve this mess before it gets any worse."

Ron nodded. He picked up the letter and held it in his hand. "I'll pass this along from my mysterious source. I'll leave it up to them to figure out what to do. It's a bit above my paygrade."

"Thank you."

"No worries. Who knows? It might go well. We might be able to stop it before it gets any worse. Don't know how we will placate the grieving families. But between you and me, I've had enough of war."

"Same." Said Hermione.

James said nothing.

Ron just gave him a look. There was nothing but curiosity behind it.

"What else."

Hermione handed over the folded piece of paper, which Ron opened to show a photograph of two men and a woman. One of the men's faces was circled.

"This is security footage from the hospital when Mrs. Jones visited us. The person who I circled seems so familiar to me, but I can't put my finger on it. It's driving me insane. I just wanted to see if you knew him?"

Ron looked at the image and frowned. Then he shook his head. "I don't recognise him. But I will ask around."

Hermione nodded her thanks. Then she looked down at the letter in her lap. She raised it and showed it to Ron with a trembling hand.

Ron stared at the letter. His face froze. He gulped audibly.

"Is – Is that what I think it is?"

Hermione nodded.

"From – you know – from before?"

She nodded again.

Ron went quiet. He reached for the letter, but he froze before he could touch it. His hand closed and opened several times. Like he was unsure whether or not to grab it.

Which he finally did. But his trembling hand had stopped and become steady as he took it in a grip and brought it down to look at it.

"Merlin's beard." He whispered, mostly to himself. To them he spoke. "Hermione – did – did you…"

"Yes." She said, with a slight waver in her voice. "Yes, I did."

"Oh." He said. "And – uh – what." He fought to steady his voice. "What did it say?"

Hermione was suddenly rendered speechless. She opened her mouth but couldn't speak and looked down at her lap.

James reached out and took her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"It was a death letter, Ron." He said, his voice as steady as they come. "A death letter from me from before."

Ron stared at him. His voice tinged slightly back towards red. Not from anger. James suspected he was just overwhelmed by it.

"I see."

"Anything –"

Hermione cut him off, finding her words. "Harry was a horcrux, Ron."

"What?"

"Yes." She said. "He knew he was going to die. Because he had to."

"Yeah." Ron said, as steadily as he could. "But he didn't did he? He's sitting right there. So that's good right? No worries? He's not still… You know?"

"We don't know, Ron."

"But you know everything." There was a desperation in his voice. A cry for help. A plea that the whole mess was behind him. That Voldemort was behind them. That the war was over.

"I know some things, Ron. Some." Hermione whispered. "The letter hinted that we should talk to Snape."

"Snape?" Ron was incredulous.

"Yes. Hardly handy, considering his death."

"Hardly. But who else might know? Isn't a great deal of bloody information on Horcruxes is there."

"You're going to have to talk to Draco at some point. Ask if you can get me access to Malfoy library. In the meantime, I'm going to have to go and talk to Dumbledore."

Ron eyed his letter again, making no effort to open it.

"It's never bloody simple is it."

Hermione gave him a sad smile. "Not when Harry Potter is involved."

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

The conversation eventually settled out into silence. It was not the companionable silence from before. The silence of three friends wondering what should have been, or what could have been.

But the silence of three friends with nothing but anxiety for the future.

It had become apparent and clear that there was a chance that James was still a Horcrux. If the Death Eaters could get a hold of Voldemort's body, then perhaps, using the Horcrux, Voldemort could again be reborn.

The war would start again.

But in that, they also had to try and prevent another war. A war neither the muggle world or the wizarding one was even slightly ready for. A war that would devastate the apparatus of peace and power within those worlds.

"So." James finally said, drawing both Hermione and Ron from their disquiet reverie's. "If I'm to understand this correctly, I cannot, under any circumstances, fall into the hands of the Death Eaters."

Hermione nodded. "I would advise against that, Horcrux or not."

"But if they managed to get Voldemort's body, and me, there's a chance they may be able to resurrect him."

Hermione again nodded. "Last time they had his spirit to work with. But his spirit has not been heard of in the last decade. Not like between the last wars."

"Right." James said. "So effectively, I need to stay working with MI5, either way."

Hermione furrowed her brow. "How do you figure that?"

"Well. MI5 are currently hunting Death Eaters, correct?"

She nodded.

"And we aren't really taking them in for questioning anymore?"

Hermione didn't react to that. She didn't like where this is going.

"So, if I stick with MI5, I'm safest."

"I don't like where this is going."

"With MI5. I simply kill the Death Eaters." His voice had a hardness to it. The same type as when he had described his last battle with Death Eaters.

"But what if they have Voldemort's body? What if they are working alongside the Death Eaters in order to restore him? What if this is playing into their hands?"

"Then I would already be in custody."

A short, steady silence settled over Hermione. "I don't like it."

James breathed out a laugh. "I didn't think you would. Think about it Hermione. They are hunting Death Eaters. We killed four of them. Why would they continue to send me into the field, into harm's way, if they need me alive to restore Voldemort?"

Hermione just gave him a look. It said more than words could have.

Ron ran his hands over his face.

"What are we going to do if you are a horcrux, James? What then? What if you always have the key to his return inside you."

James looked thoughtful for a moment. He glanced over at Hermione. She was looking at him with all intent. She was waiting for an answer for this question as well. She was resolutely staring at him.

"How about we assume I am, for all intents and purposes, to let that guide our actions?" James said thoughtfully. "For now, at least. I stick with MI5. Ensure that I am surrounded by my mates, I'll brief them that I cannot fall into enemy hands. That I am to be killed if that is to happen."

He couldn't look at Hermione. He could feel her hurt from where he sat. He just couldn't face it right now. He needed to remove emotion from the plan.

"We work on ensuring peace between the factions, I'll keep providing information. Come next Saturday, we will express our concerns to your father. Pass it on to the powers that be. Find a way to make sure that they know the truth, that I have nothing to do with this. When we have some peace and some breathing room – well –"

James shrugged.

"Let's cross that bridge when we come to it."

Hermione squeezed his hand to the point that he felt like the bones were going to explode. So, he finally turned and looked at her.

She had a look that clearly said that a certain conversation had made its way to the top of the list.

Ron read the room. He drained the rest of his glass and mumbled. "Sounds good to me. Simple. I like simple. But I must be off, Luna will be going spare. The Patronus I sent didn't explain everything."

He stood to leave when James called out to him.

"Ron?"

Ron turned and hummed in question.

"Do you mind if we have a quick chat before you go?" James asked, before turning to Hermione. "About blokey stuff?"

"Blokey stuff?" She asked, with a cocked eyebrow. Evidently surprise in her reply.

"Please." James said, gently to kissing her on the forehead.

She harumphed and scooted her legs out from underneath herself, before kissing him quickly on the cheek and giving Ron a hug.

James couldn't help but watch her drying hair sway down her back as she walked in the house.

James knew that Hermione knew exactly what she was doing with the sway of her hips as she left. He also knew that she was cross, but she hadn't questioned it.

"Bye Ron." She called over her shoulder.

Ron began to speak as James turned back to him. "Look, I get it. You are new to magic, it's all knew, but you don't want to be messing around with your wand and uh – your wand. Seriously. I mean there are potions, Fred and George make a few I'm told. I've never had that problem myself."

"You done?"

Ron laughed. "Yeah. I'm done."

"You're a dickhead."

Ron laughed as he sat back down. "What's on your mind, mate?"

James sat down and looked at Ron.

"It's about Hermione."

"Stop."

"What?"

"We've already had this conversation."

"We have?"

"We have."

"Uh..."

"I will tell you exactly what I told you back then. I will give you the exact same answer I gave you back then. I will of course look out for her. She's my best friend. She will be my best friend for the rest of my life. She means the world to me. She's like a sister.

But you aren't going to die. You're going to live through this. Then you are going to marry that woman, and you are going to have children. You're going to live to a massively old age, and we are going to have Friday nights in the back yards with the children as they grow up to be massively horrible influence on each other.

I don't want to hear it mate. We just got you back. I don't want to hear a bloody thing about you dying. We will figure this out. We always do. So, don't say goodbye, just don't say it. I'm not losing you again.

On top of that, I am not watching her go through that again. You have not seen the emptiness in her that your death brought about. What that did to her. I couldn't believe it. Everything we did, everything, it just wouldn't break the cycle. I've never seen a person that broken before. I can't see her like that again. I can't. So even if you won't for me, you will find a way to live for her. And for yourself, mate. Because no one deserves it more than you two. No one has earnt it more."

James was speechless in the emotion that came from Ron. The hitches in his voice. The determination and grit. The absolute resoluteness that James would be fine and he would figure it out.

"Ah. Well. Thanks mate. I actually really do appreciate it. I'm sorry I don't remember the last time we had this conversation. Sounds like it was quite something."

"I'm pretty sure it was almost word perfect. The last bit was new. We hadn't lost you yet, so you know, it didn't fit then."

"I'm sure it didn't." James said, with a smile. "But bit rough to bring up in the context of all that, I was actually going to ask if you could help me out with getting Hermione's present."

"What? You're kidding me right?"

"Well, I had an idea for her present, but I can't enter the magical world to try and get it. If you could get it for me, I'd be very grateful. I'll pay you back of course."

"That's what you wanted to talk to me about? Really? Did I just make a massive tit of myself?"

"Nah. That conversation was coming. You just nipped it in the bud."

"I think I'm starting to regret you coming back."

"I think Hermione still wonders what she's done."

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

He found her on the couch. She had substituted her scotch for a mug of tea that she cupped under her chin.

She had put on a jumper, one of his. A big black jumper that she threatened to drown in. She was comfortable, with her legs brought up to her chest as she stared at two items that sat on the coffee table.

The first was a letter. James didn't need to get close to see what it was. It was his letter.

The second was a photograph frame. Inside was the photograph he had found in her parents' home before he knew anything about anything. When he had learnt who she was. She had told him it was one of her favourites. James didn't know when she had gotten it.

Must have been magic.

"Hey." He said softly, as he moved in and leant against the mantelpiece. There was something on her mind, he knew that. And he felt like the best thing he could do right now was to try and give her a little bit of space.

"Hey." She said back, just as softly.

"Do you need a moment?" He asked gently.

She shook her head, not looking up at him. "I've had ten years of moments."

He nodded. Not quite knowing what to say to that. It was a fair enough answer.

"Did you enjoy your 'bloke chat'?" She asked. Her voice contained a hint of warning.

"Hermione – "

"No, no. I get it. Everyone needs some 'bloke chat' once and a while. Hell, I need some bloke chat. Let's talk bloke things! Gym. Sports. Lifting weights. Women. Tits and arse." She said, her voice beginning to rise. "Or am I not doing it right? Does little know-it-all Hermione Granger not know something? Not know how to talk to blokes about bloke stuff?"

Finally, she lifted her eyes and looked straight at him.

James sighed. "Hermione..."

"Oh no! No need to talk to me. I'm the one who grew up with two male best friends! I'm just the one who found you! I'm just the one who sought you out! I'm the one who tried to find you after ten long years of missing you! The one who fought alongside you every step of the fucking way during the war. But you better kick out your dear friend Hermione Granger, because she can't handle some fucking 'bloke chat.'"

She was yelling by the end. On her feet with a raised hand that pointed straight at James as her voice became angrier and shriller with each point. Angry tears glistened in her eyes. Her eyes that bored into James with ten years of pent-up emotion.

He shut up. He let her speak. As far as emotions went, he sucked, but even he could see that this was not about him having a chat with Ron.

"Couldn't possibly talk about cars, or fishing, or hunting, that Hermione Granger! She's busy you know. She's busy missing her best friend! Maybe she should get over him and move on. You're right maybe she should. Shame she can't! That Hermione Granger! Wouldn't it be grand if she could have a conversation about Brooms, Quidditch, or Witches!"

James stepped forward towards her. Tentative steps as her anger built up to its crescendo.

"Strong, Independent, Woman, that Hermione Granger! So Strong, so independent, such a woman! What a career! Helping the magical and non-magical alike! But so alone! So, fucking sad. When is she going to let him go and settle down! Probably when she can handle a bit of fucking 'bloke chat!' Probably then!'

Her voice had hit its peak as he finally made it close enough so that she was in arms reach. She was screaming at him now. She had lost control. She was a terrible beauty. Her wet hair had become frizzled around her. Her eyes darkened considerable and her lips, when not screaming, were curled up into a sneer. A sneer that was directed right at him.

He took a deep breath and held her angry gaze. She opened her mouth for the next tirade, but he interrupted.

He did the only thing he could think to do in this situation. He acted as the hungover man to his angry wife.

"I'm sorry."

"Oh, are you? Sorry you left poor Hermione Granger alone? That you left her here to mourn you! Left her here believe she had failed in the one thing she had sworn she would never fail. That she had no fucking clue that despite everything she had done to save his life, Harry Potter would just go and die! Maybe you would have told me if I could handle a little bit of fucking 'bloke chat.'

"I'm sorry that I didn't tell you that I was a Horcrux."

Her mouth moved vigorously to continue to launch into her next attack of self-loathing.

"I'm sorry that I went off to die."

Her mouth hung open, trembling as it searched for the words.

"I'm sorry that I left you alone in the world."

Her eyes never left his.

"And I'm sorry that I never told you how I felt."

"Don't." There was a half warning in her tone.

"I'm sorry, that I didn't give you closure when I went. I'm sorry that You had to spend the last ten years not knowing how much I loved you. I'm sorry that you spent all that time mourning my loss."

"Fuck off."

"But mostly, I'm sorry that I didn't know you for those ten years. That I missed those achievements. I'm sorry I missed your schooling, how you graduated top of your class in both worlds. I'm sorry that I missed everything. Every smile. Every frown. Every tear."

"Stop it."

"But I am not sorry that I lived. I'm not sorry that I get to be here for this moment. That I got to meet you in the hospital. That for a few weeks none of this shit was a worry. I'm not sorry for feeling like through you, the massive missing parts of my fucked up life have joined together. For feeling that when I get to be with you, I'm right where I am supposed to be."

Hermione didn't speak.

"Because I've never felt like that before."

The angry tears started to fall down her cheeks as she looked up at him.

Her hands came up towards him and James had a moment where he didn't know if she was going to choke him to get him to shut up or embrace him. He suspected that she didn't know either.

He made the choice for her.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tightly into his chest. She began to bawl against his chest. He offered soothing words of sweet nothings as she gripped tightly at his shirt and cried a decade's worth of tears into his chest.

He hummed into her hair and kissed her crown. He ran his fingers up and down her back. He apologised. Over and over again. For things he didn't remember. For things he was still accountable for.

He couldn't tell how long he held her like that, only that he hummed into her hair as her sobs finally began to lessen and fade.

She stood in silence for a moment, head against her chest.

Then she pulled back and James made eye contact with her. All the determination that had been there was still there.

"I need a promise."

"Anything."

"I need you to promise. To swear. To swear on little Lily's life that you won't ever do something like that again. That I can trust you to at least try to live. This doesn't work for me if you have a death wish."

"I swear." There was no hesitation or lie in his voice.

She blinked. James could tell that she hadn't expected him to agree so readily.

"Just like that?" She whispered.

"Just like that."

She sighed and nodded. "I will never, ever forgive you if you pull that shit on me again."

He nodded and put his forehead to hers. "I know."

"We don't know that you are a horcrux. We don't know that it's still in you! You might not have it anymore. You might have destroyed it."

"That's true."

"So, it might be something that we are over worrying about. Something we are taking too seriously."

"It might be."

She paused. He knew that she had reached the end of her suspension for disbelief. He knew that she had reached the limit on what she could pretend. The limit on what she was willing to trust to hope.

"You do not have my permission to die." She whispered to him.

"I know."

She looked up and her beautiful brown orbs met his green pools. "I hate you, Harry Potter." She whispered.

He said nothing. He let her speak.

"I hate what you've done to me. I'm a strong, independent woman. I never, ever defined myself by a man, or by a partner. I would never have. It was never my lot. I was perfectly content to bury myself with work and live happily with my overly judgmental cat. A family was never on my horizon, even if I did want one, one day. If it was to be my lot in life, happily free and single, then I could deal with that. I could still find fulfillment. I knew this as a child, before you. Before Hogwarts. Because I am Hermione Granger. I am my own person."

She lifted his chin so they were meeting each other's eyes.

"But along you fucking came, Harry Potter. Along you came and you befriended a bushy haired know-it-all. You didn't let her go. You and her, you lived. Then you died. Suddenly I was trapped in this circle of missing you and never being able to move past you. I tried to date. I did. I was in a relationship for two years. For two fucking years. It was a loving relationship. I loved him. He was a good man. I could have been happy."

James said nothing.

"Could have been. But he left me. He left me because, and I quote, 'I'm not him'. He left me because he wasn't you. And I refused that answer. Oh, I did. I fucking hated him for that answer. Because I was not defined by a man. I would never, ever be defined by a man."

James nodded, chewing the end of his lip as he listened intently.

"But every – single – fucking – person – in – my – fucking – life," She said through gritted teeth, "Would just look at me with this fucking sadness. This fucking pity. Like I was this scared, lost, little bird, unable to find its way home. That was not me. I was not that person. I was Doctor Hermione Granger. I was my own person."

"But I wasn't. I wasn't my own person. I was one half of a whole that had broken. That had shattered. That was not able to be repaired. Until you came back."

Hermione stopped and looked down at her feet.

"I had had what I had wanted as a girl when I listened to the fairy tales and the stories that my mother had told me. I had that kind of love that overwhelmed you. That lost you. And I couldn't see it. I was so lost in it that I couldn't see the forest for the trees. Because I was know-it-all Hermione Granger. I was my own person."

A single tear swam down her cheek like a lazy swan on the Thames.

"I lost it before it had even begun. Before it had even truly blossomed into what it was supposed to be. Because I love you Harry Potter. I always have. In the little moments, and the big ones. I didn't know what they were. I can admit now that I didn't know they were love. They were just so natural. So innate. Like I was doing exactly what I was supposed to be doing, with exactly who I was supposed to be doing it with."

She swallowed audibly.

"It was never perfect. We argued. Stubborn and bull-headed the both of us. We had our rows during the war. Our fights. But you and I? We always listened. We didn't belittle each other. It was never perfect, but that was perfect for me."

She leaned forward and she kissed his cheek.

"And then I lost you. You were gone. You were dead. And I was broken. And I knew I would heal. I knew that no matter how bleak it was, I would see the new day and that would bring more hope, bring more light. I knew that I would get through it."

James nodded in agreeance. She didn't need to know that he had written almost exactly that in his more recent letter.

"But it didn't. And it confused me. The logical part of my brain said that it should ease and lessen and allow me to move on. To an extent it did. But it sat there, like a fucking hole in my chest that wouldn't leave. I sought help. I went to mind healers and therapists. I talked through the war, the trauma, you, and it helped. I still get nightmares, as you know, and I still remember the horrible parts. The parts that make me shiver to remember. But no matter what I did, I could never quite get better with you."

She kissed his other cheek.

"So, I hate you, Harry Potter. I hate you for doing this to me. I hate that I did it to myself. I hate that I don't understand it. That It just confuses me even more. That there is even the remotest possibility that I can be this in love with another human being has me terrified."

He leant forward and kissed her on the forehead.

"So, you aren't allowed to die. You aren't allowed to throw your life away in some misbegotten act of nobility. We don't even know that you are a Horcux. We don't know that Voldemort can return because of you. We don't know anything."

She kissed his forehead in kind.

"When Lucky was wounded. Two officers came and told Peyton it was mortal. I nearly froze, because I have been there before. Seeing Peyton go through that was almost as horrific as when I had. So, I am telling you right now, James Black, that you don't get to do that to me again. You've had your one. You don't get a second."

He nodded at her.

She kissed him lightly on the lips.

"But I'm petrified that you are going to do it anyway. Because as honest as your swearing was before, I might as well have tried to make you promise not to breath. It's part of you. It's who you are. It's built into your character. I hate how much I love you for it."

She took a deep breath. Her voice has gotten so soft that it broke James's heart to listen to her.

"I'm terrified that whenever the concept of your death comes up, you are entirely too nonchalant about it."

James broke eye contact. He wasn't embarrassed, not really. It had been a part of his life for as long as he could remember. He could see why she might see it as indifference. And it was. It was and it wasn't. He didn't have words for that.

But he could try his best.

"This death before capture thing is hardly new to me, Hermione." He said simply. She had just poured her heart out to him. The least he could do is return the favour.

She blinked up at him, her big, beautiful brown eyes doing that thing she always did when she looked at him like that. It looked into his soul.

Or souls?

"We have a saying in the Regiment." He began at a whisper. It was something he spoke about easily with his team, hell, they joked about it, but to voice it to someone who's wasn't a part of that world was different.

Especially to one that had just made it crystal clear that he wasn't allowed to die.

"A man with a single bullet has his last meal."

Hermione slapped his chest and her grip tightened painfully around his shirt. He knew that if she tightened any further, she was likely to rip it.

James darkened. He promised himself he would be honest, and honest he would be.

"We would much rather die, then have our beheading broadcast on Terrorist Telly."

Those damned eyes. Don't look.

"We have a deal. If anyone was in danger of capture, and unable to take care of it themselves, well, we would do it. Lucky is as close to a brother as I have ever known in my life. But if the choice was a quick death on a mountainside in Afghanistan at my hand, or torture and a beheading that will be posted on the internet where Lily or Peyton will see it broadcast on national Telly, the choice was easy."

She slapped his chest again.

"I'm no stranger to the concept of not being allowed to be captured. I can deal with that. It's fine."

James could see her jaw dropped in anger. She was building herself back up.

"But."

Her jaw closed shut and her eyes picked up the glare of fury that had remerged.

"But you've made a coward out of me, Doctor Hermione Granger." He had to look at them. Brown and encased in all kinds of fury, James forced himself to meet her stare. "I admire the bravery of Harry Potter."

Her eyes narrowed.

"If he – I – loved you anywhere near I do right now, and let's be honest, I must have, then the fact that he willing walked to his death is – well – I don't know how to rightly explain it."

"Try."

"I can't lose you, Hermione. I'd take a fucking bullet for you. Or any manner of curse, jinx or hex, for that matter. I would readily die for you. But more than that. I want to live with you."

He dropped his eyes.

"I want to have a family with you. I want to love you forever. To see you grow old and grey. Watch our children grow in a happy house. See what amazing things you can accomplish with the rest of your life. I want to support you as you move onwards and upwards. Be your partner. Your best friend. Your lover. Your – fuck – I'm not good with words. I just want to be there for it all. I don't want to miss even a moment."

He inhaled sharply.

"So, the concept of dying over this, it terrifies me. I've already missed way too much."

Hermione continued to stare at him.

He met her eyes again.

They stared for a good long time.

"As far as speeches go." She whispered to him. "That wasn't a bad way to end one."

His lips twitched.

So did hers.

Then they met. Fiercely and with all the passion of two people who just needed each other.

Two people who had one last night before the world crashed in on them again. Before the uncertainty of everything meant that the anxieties of what had come, what was to come, and what could come, could bear down upon their shoulders.

They had one night, after an exceedingly long day.

They were determined to enjoy it.

And they did.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

A/N:

Firstly, I want to apologise for how long these chapters have become. I always wanted to keep my chapters around 7,000 to 10,000 words at a time. More manageable chunks, if you will, but alas, while writing these it seems they just organically grow. I also wanted to end this very long day for everyone in this chapter, rather then have it bleed over into the next chapter, when time will move forward again.

Trust me, when I edit my stories I really, REALLY, wish the chapters were shorter.

But if you love longer chapters, well, you're welcome!

How about that Mrs Jones eh? Is she lying? Or not? YOU decide.

I'm totally kidding. I 've decided. I know exactly what she's doing. She knows exactly what she's doing.

And poor Hermione. It's been a very long day, in a very long month, in a very long decade. Keep in mind that their day started with her journey into his mind. That last scene wasn't actually planned to pan out like it did, but I just felt like she hadn't really had her emotional reaction to everything that was going on. I realised that without that scene, she would be taking the concept of James still being a Horcrux fairly lightly. So it went in, and hopefully turned out alright.

Anyway. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Quicker turn around than my last few, this one came bursting out of me. Flowed really nicely while writing.

As always, my most heartfelt thanks to those of you who have reviewed, favourited and followed. I cherish the reviews I receive, it is always lovely to read that feedback.

And for those of you who have recommended this story on other forums, you have my thanks. I'm not really self promoting this story all that much, so seeing people recommend it to others has done more for me than you will ever know.

Cheers,

ATG

P.S The next chapter shouldn't be too far away. Lucky and Peyton should be back into it, after being so tragically left out of the story for a little while.

P.P.S If you guessed 'things were going to get worse' from my last A/N, you were right.