Harry did not see Hermione for several days after that. Her absence meant he was more productive and work was further improved when the details of the Callahan case were released. With the specific allegations of Muggle torture now widely known, the grumblings of support for Callahan within the Auror Department quieted, though the ex-Auror still seemed to have his supporters among the public.
Harry unlocked his office door on Saturday afternoon with a slight feeling of trepidation, however. Right then, Hermione and Lakey were in Gloucester for Callahan's arraignment. Earlier that day, Harry had been distressed to learn from Ginny that the Prophet had sent more than one reporter to cover the proceedings.
Now, Harry sat in the labyrinth of Auror cubicles surrounding his office, listening to a briefing from one of his most trusted Aurors, Matthew Durkheim. He was of small, but stocky, stature with a bald head, dark skin, and a closely-shaved beard. He'd joined the force fifteen years ago and had a cutting intellect.
"So that's when Regina left to inform the regional council. I filled out the report with the Muggle family, disguised as a police officer, of course. All that was stolen were a few family heirlooms and around eight hundred in Muggle currency. Credit cards untouched."
"Any witnesses?" Harry asked.
"No. Whoever it was did it all in the middle of the night. Didn't even wake the family. Definitely a wizard though; no forced entry and I cast a few revelatory spells. There was a definite whiff around the family safe and in the sitting room."
Harry sighed. "That's the sixth Muggle robbery in Bristol this year. Send a memo to Carson Martel and ask him for his personnel preferences—I'm going to send him two more Aurors until the end of the year."
"Yessir."
Just then, Harry caught sight of a small figure making its way towards them from the golden lifts on the far side of the solarium. Even from a distance he knew it was her. Durkheim followed Harry's eyes and, upon seeing Hermione, cleared his throat.
"I'll leave you to it, Chief. We can finish this later."
Harry barely noticed Durkheim take his leave.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked as soon as she was in earshot.
"Can we talk?"
"Sure," he said, immediately worried. "My office?"
She nodded tightly and he slid off Durkheim's desk. Once he'd closed the door and activated the privacy wards, she spoke.
"He pled not guilty, Harry. They lied to us."
Harry gaped at her. "What?"
"I know," she said, twisting her hands in front of her.
"How—how can they even try that?" he whispered, stunned. "We did fucking priori incantatem on his wand. He cast those spells and there was no Imperious. What're they playing at?"
"I know," she said again. "It makes no sense. Bruton simply doesn't have the evidence for that plea. John and I had come prepared to offer him a fifty-year sentence and compensation for the Camerons. Generous considering the circumstances. Bruton's got to be trying for some ridiculous play for public sympathy...but Harry, there's more."
"What?"
She looked quite anxious now. "After the hearing...I stayed behind to answer questions from the media. One of the Prophet reporters asked what I thought about the magical evaluation."
Harry stared blankly at her.
"I'm so sorry," she said desperately. "There's no way we could've known the press would look into the arraignment amendments and see Annie's report. Apparently there were four or five Prophet reporters there alone, so I reckon they didn't have anything better to do than rummage through the paperwork…I'm so sorry."
Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Fuck. This'll be in tomorrow's edition?"
She nodded reluctantly. "The Sunday edition."
Harry cursed again. The Sunday Prophet was the most widely circulated edition of the wizarding newspaper.
"Can Lakey do anything?"
"He's spoken to his contacts there, but they haven't been particularly helpful. They need something new to report on now that the facts of the case have been released. The evaluation is new, shiny information."
"What did you say about the evaluation?"
"I said something like the extreme circumstances of the case warranted a thorough investigation, which included a magical evaluation—"
Harry groaned loudly. "Hermione, that's just it! No one yet thinks this case is extreme. If anything, they think your department is being extreme for prosecuting this man—"
Her nostrils flared. "The facts are extreme, Harry! Anyone can see that! Muggle Legilimency? The Cruciatus? Permanent Oblivation? Who cannot be disgusted by the facts of this case?"
He blinked. It was hard to look at her dead on when her eyes crackled like that.
"You've got to see it from the perspective of the media, from segments of the public" he said hastily. "The coverage up until a few days ago was that a trusted and respected Auror had his wand snapped because he used magic on Muggles. They'd just learned what that magic was—that it constituted torture under our laws—and now they're hearing about a magical evaluation, just about the most invasive experience someone can undergo. The politics of this case are in flux, Hermione. You've got to—"
"You shouldn't worry about the politics of anything, Harry Potter," she said furiously. "It's your job to uphold the laws of this country, right? That means you defend Muggles from torture by wizards, doesn't it? That's all that matters here. If you can't carry out your duties then perhaps you best pass them on to someone who can!"
Harry looked at her levelly, knowing that when Hermione got overwhelmed and defensive she (very occasionally) lashed out and said things she didn't mean. It happened so rarely, but enough times in their friendship, that Harry knew to wait until the hard spark softened in her eyes.
"I'm sorry," she said after a moment, looking quite chastened—a feat Harry rarely accomplished. "It's just that...you've got to tell people that the evaluation was necessary, Harry. They'll trust your opinion."
"What?" he nearly laughed. "I didn't know about the evaluation until five minutes before it happened! That was your and Lakey's call. And might I remind you I put a media blackout on all Aurors about this case, myself included."
Hermione swallowed and approached his desk. "I know that. I wouldn't be asking if I didn't think it was necessary. I know this isn't your jurisdiction anymore. There's no reason for me to be in this office right now, apart from the fact that I need your help…as a friend."
He raised his eyebrows, but she looked back at him with such an earnest intensity, he felt his resolve crumble. And there was something else—something to her eyes...they were like before, from the forest. The same eyes, but somehow deeper.
"Fine," he sighed. "I'll provide a statement. Two sentences, tops."
"Thank you," she said, relieved.
Ten minutes later, Harry and Hermione had composed a carefully-crafted statement that read:
The Auror Department condemns all forms of magical violence directed towards the Muggle population. The circumstances surrounding the case of former Auror, Theodonous Callahan, required that all available means be employed to determine the facts and defend the laws of wizarding Britain.
Harry J. Potter
Chief of the Department of Aurors
Ministry of Magic
"Could be more forcefully worded…" Hermione muttered next to him, leaning over the sheaf of parchment. "And you've used the passive voice."
"Shut it. This is the best you're getting from me."
She grinned, straightening. "Thank you. I owe you."
He smiled and handed her the parchment. "You don't owe me anything. We'll call it even for you saving my arse over the years."
"Hmm," Hermione mused, tucking the statement into her bag. "I certainly hope you don't mean every time I saved you arse, because that's a debt I intend to collect very slowly and with interest."
He laughed. Yet, as Hermione moved towards the door, Harry felt that strange dread turn in his stomach once more—the same sensation he'd felt when he wanted to stand between Hermione and Callahan.
"You will be careful how you handle this, won't you?" he said to her. "One statement from me won't turn everything in your favor. You can't expect the public to have your high morals going into this. It'll take...patience. You will be careful, right?"
She smiled fondly at him, but not in a way he liked. It was a look that said she thought him overly cautious and that he failed to grasp the larger strategy at play.
"I'm always careful," she said, pulling open the door. "But you're wrong about one thing. We can't let the public dictate our morals. They have to rise to ours, even if it's difficult to take at first."
She shut the door before Harry could respond.
Harry got home at five o'clock, exhausted. Before he left the AD, he disseminated a Department-wide message via Patronus informing his Aurors of what they would hear about Callahan's arraignment tomorrow, including the magical evaluation. He emphasized the importance of all Aurors refraining from interactions with the media and the imperative to preserving the apolitical reputation of the AD.
Setting down his attache, Harry heard small feet running down the stairs and, a moment later, Lily flew into his arms. Over her scarlet hair, he saw two people emerge from the kitchen—Ron and Ginny.
"Hey, sweetie," Harry said, kissing the top of her head and placing her on the ground.
"Daddy, Hugo's here too! He wants to fly in the backyard. Can we go? Please?" Lily squeaked, jumping on the spot.
"Sure, but turn on the safety wards and no going into the forest!" Harry called as Lily was already charging up the stairs again to fetch her cousin.
Ginny greeted him with a kiss. "I heard about the arraignment," she said. "Did you handle it all right with the Aurors?"
"Mostly. There'll be no surprises for them, at least."
"And Hermione?" said Ron.
"She's managing, yeah," he grunted. "The not guilty plea was a blow. Some desperate ploy for public sympathy, looks like."
Hermione's rhetoric seemed to rub off on him when she wasn't around.
"We can't know all that right now, can we?" Ginny mused as they moved back to the kitchen. "He hasn't even been through trial yet."
"There shouldn't be a trial," Harry countered, ill-humored. "Priori incantantem and the magical evaluation were definitive he did it. There are no circumstances where he could've been justified in doing what he did to those Muggles. The law is clear on that."
Ginny made a noncommittal noise and moved to fix tea.
Harry sat at his usual place at the table and stared unseeingly at a stack of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes' catalogs.
"Was getting Ginny's thoughts on the new layout," Ron explained, sitting across from him. The ginger was about to launch into a detailed account of magazine design (which Harry would've welcomed as he wouldn't be required to talk anymore), when they all heard a small pop in the foyer.
Hermione appeared a moment later, looking just as exhausted as Harry.
"Ron!" she said, relieved. "I thought you were home. I was going to make dinner…"
Ron looked at her for a beat. "Of course you forgot," he said with a hint of derision. "Hugo had a play-date with Lily."
"Oh. Right."
Ron turned back to the catalogs without another word. Hermione stood unmoving in the doorway, still carrying her bag and coat.
Harry felt an odd surge of anger burn his throat.
"I'm going to go check on the kids," he said, dismissing himself.
Harry sat in a deckchair on the enormous portico leading down to the grounds of Clymene Court, the estate of Harry and Ginny Potter. Lily and Hugo spun and dove through the air, foam bludgers careening around their heads while they passed the Quaffle to one another. The sun was beginning to set behind the dense forest at the end of the grounds, rendering the sky a muted blue. The leaves were changing color in earnest now and the wind had a chill to it.
He watched Lily pull off a rather complicated maneuver, scoring a goal on a nonexistent Keeper by zooming up from the ground and throwing the ball through the far left hoop. Like James and (to a lesser extent, Albus), Lily had inherited her parents' Quidditch skills. Years of watching her mother play, while her father explained the rules to her in the stands, had made her a bit of a savant. Harry felt certain she'd make a House team in three or four years' time.
Hugo also inherited his parents' Quidditch skills—meaning Hermione's fear of heights and Ron's rather shaky control of a broom. When Hugo was younger, Ron despaired that his youngest child was hopeless, joking that Hugo had inherited the Muggle genes when it came to flying. But now Hugo was starting to resemble his father. He knew how to position himself to be in the right place at the right time, but he lacked the grace and agility of his cousin.
Harry was considering retrieving his Firebolt Mach7 and joining them when he heard footsteps behind him. A moment later, a delicate wrist dangled a glass of whiskey in front of him.
"Oh. Thanks," Harry mumbled gratefully as Hermione seated herself next to him.
"I figured you needed something on the stronger side after what I put you through today."
Harry grinned faintly and they sat in silence for several minutes, sipping their respective drinks and watching Lily and Hugo as the sky grew dark above them.
"What did you do with my statement?" Harry asked.
"I gave it to Don Holliday, the Ministry Spokesperson. He contacted the Prophet immediately. They said they'd run it in tomorrow's paper."
"Good."
They fell silent and, after a moment, Hermione smiled.
"I can hear you worrying," she said. "I wish you'd stop. It's going to be all right."
He said nothing, staring at his glass. He wished people would stop telling him that. After a while, Harry ignited the outdoor lamps with a wave of his wand, which cast a fiery glow onto the field. Ron and Ginny appeared a moment later, carrying their own drinks.
"Well," Ron sighed, leaning against a pillar as he watched the children, "I think we're ready to go final with the design. Ginny's got a better eye for this kind of thing than George, that's for sure."
"How is George?" Hermione asked warily, testing his mood.
"He's fine," Ron answered civilly. "It's Roxanne's birthday in a week. He's planning this elaborate gift to send her through the post. I said it'll be embarrassing, but after she gets past the explosions, there'll be a lot of good treats she can share with her friends."
"Nothing less for the daughter of a joke-master," Hermione smiled.
Ginny turned to Hermione. "Speaking of birthdays, isn't yours coming up?"
Hermione's face colored slightly.
"Yeah, what d'you want us to do for it?" Ron asked.
"Nothing fancy. Just dinner or something?"
"Yeah, but what do you want?" Ginny pressed. "Anything we can get you?"
"I haven't thought of anything," Hermione laughed uncomfortably. "I think we're past the age when presents are necessary…"
Ron hissed through his teeth. "Don't ever say that."
They all laughed, catching Lily's attention. "Mum! Dad! Come play with us!"
"It's too late for that, sweetie!" Ginny called back.
"C'mon! Please?" Lily squealed, Hugo joining her chorus.
Ginny turned to Harry, who shrugged. "Do you want me to get your broom?" she asked.
"Sure," he said. "You can have the Mach7 if you want."
"Oh, thanks," his wife said happily and she and Ron went back into the house.
Harry looked at Hermione, who wore a sour look on her face. "So, thirty-eight years old…"
"Shut up."
Ron and Ginny returned a few minutes later, Ginny holding Harry's Mach7 and an older generation Firebolt. Ron held the latest in the Comet series.
As Harry stood and took the older Firebolt, he saw Hermione give all three of them a dubious look.
"Not coming along?" Ron called to her teasingly as he, Harry, and Ginny kicked into the air. She rolled her eyes.
As Harry rose, in one instant and perfect moment, he didn't feel so tired anymore. He was back in the air—a place he'd always felt he belonged. He, Ron, and Ginny maneuvered into a loose circle around the kids and Harry waved his wand at the outdoor lamps, making them glow brighter.
"What were you playing?" Ginny asked Lily and Hugo.
"Just passing the Quaffle," said Hugo, swinging his legs on his Cleansweep-12.
"Well, let's do a short scrimmage," Ron suggested. "But there's only five of us. We'll need Hermione…" he said, chuckling at the thought. He looked back at his wife, a small figure on the ground. "We need one more player, Hermione! Come and join us!"
Harry turned to look at Hermione too and, to all their surprise, she got reluctantly out of her chair.
"Do you still have that one broom?" she called to Harry and Ginny. "The one that doesn't move much?"
"Yeah, the Silver Arrow?" Harry shouted. "It's in the shed. Should be behind the door."
Without another word, Hermione stalked off to the side of the house.
"Well, would you look at that," said Ginny, grinning slightly.
"This'll be good," Ron snickered.
Hermione reappeared a minute later holding a truly decrepit and ancient broom. Placing it on the ground, she shouted "up!" with as much force as she could muster.
The broom didn't move.
"Up!" she shouted again, more testily.
Still no movement.
"Up, you son of a…!" she said, cutting off the last word for the children.
Finally, the broom shot into her hand and Hermione looked grimly satisfied. The three adults chuckled above her, Hugo and Lily merely impatient. She drifted shakily towards to them.
"I'll play as long as I'm Keeper," she said, continuing to float past them so that she had to speak over her shoulder, "and you only get to score through the middle hoop."
"Oh, c'mon. That's ridiculous," Ron groaned.
"Those are the conditions," Hermione shouted, as Ginny flew forward and towed her back to the group. "If not, I'm going down right now."
"All right, all right," said Ginny, smiling. "Those are the rules. Let's split ourselves up."
The strongest players were Ginny and Harry, followed by Ron, Lily, and Hugo. They quickly determined that Hermione should be paired with one of the strong players, which turned out to be Ginny. Given the level of Hermione's ineptitude, she also got Ron on her team. That left Harry with the kids, who he herded to the other side of the pitch. Hugo wanted to be Keeper, like his mum, so Harry and Lily took up their positions as Chasers. Harry would also play Seeker. For the opposing team: Hermione was Keeper, per her request, with Ron and Ginny as the Chasers. Ginny would also played the double-role of Seeker.
The balls were released and the game was on. Harry flew forward with Lily. He seized the Quaffle and quickly passed it off to his daughter. She charged ahead to meet her mother and uncle. It was beautiful to watch. The small girl controlled her broom perfectly, deflecting Ron's lunge and delicately dodging a foam Bludger. She moved towards Hermione, who was basically sitting inside the middle hoop, and the girl hovered in front of her aunt in an attempt to lure her away from the goal. It worked, though Hermione seemed to know what Lily was trying to do. Lily faked left and Hermione followed. Ten points.
Harry cheered as Lily flew back to him. This time, Ginny had the Quaffle and she smiled dangerously at Harry.
"Go cover your uncle!" Harry shouted as he flew forward to shadow Ginny. A moment later, however, a Bludger gave him a soft tap on the back and Harry pretended to fall away. Ginny rocketed towards Hugo. Ten points.
The game progressed fairly evenly from then on. Ron and Ginny shouted at Hermione to stop sitting in the hoop a few times, but otherwise there were no problems. Whenever possible, Harry passed the Quaffle to Lily and focused on finding the Snitch. Hugo was playing well, blocking just under half of the attempted goals. At one point, Ron and Ginny double-teamed on Lily and Harry flew to her aid. Shooting past all three of them, he hovered near Hermione's goal post.
"Lily! Pass!" he shouted. The Quaffle came flying over Ron and Ginny's heads and landed squarely in Harry's arms. He pivoted and found himself face-to-face with Hermione.
He gave her a half-smile. "Sorry about this."
Seizing her wrist, he swung her to the side and tossed the Quaffle through the center hoop. Ron, Ginny, and the children laughed. Hermione gave Harry a very haughty look, which was quite impressive given she was nearly sideways on her broom.
Harry touched her shoulder, pushing her upright. "You're doing very good."
"Shut up," she said again, eyes narrowed, but he could see the humor beneath.
The stars were out now. With both the children and adults starting to get hungry, Lily and Hugo went inside to wash up while the adults gathered the equipment. Ron collected the foam Bludgers and placed them in their crate, Ginny tossing the Quaffle in behind. Finally, the Snitch needed to be found. They all darted about searching for the small winged ball, except Hermione, who stayed floating by the goal posts.
As Ron was saying, "We might as well find it tomorrow," Harry spotted the Snitch hovering feet from Hermione's head.
With a smile, he rocketed forward and Ginny immediately gave chase. Hermione stared as Harry and Ginny shot towards her, comprehension dawning that she was the intended target. She let out a scream.
"Hermione! Don't move!" Harry yelled.
He and Ginny were shoulder-to-shoulder now and Harry roughly nudged her to send her off course. She pushed him back harder, however, and Harry over-compensated.
It was too late for Hermione. As Ginny laughed, turning her head to look at Harry as he corrected himself, she flew headlong into her sister-in-law. The two women went tumbling through the hoop towards the ground. Harry immediately darted below them to break their fall and the three of them landed in a tangled heap atop wet leaves and soft grass.
"Unnh," he wheezed, feeling something hard press into his sternum.
Ginny was laughing uncontrollably. "Your face, Hermione!" she gasped. "You should've seen it! So funny!"
Harry tried to laugh too, but he was still breathless. Hermione was pressed against him, Ginny on top of her. When Ginny rolled off of her, Hermione tried to sit up and Harry slipped his fingers between them. They met with something cold and hard—the Golden Snitch beating feebly against his hand.
"Hermione?" Ginny was saying now. "Are you all right? That was quite a fall."
She didn't answer and Harry, wrapping his fingers around the Snitch, lifted her off his chest. Her eyes were wide, her mouth frozen in a small "oh" of shock.
"What the fuck was that?" she finally said.
Harry and Ginny broke into fresh peals of laughter. As Ron ran towards them, Harry glanced at his fist. No one had noticed he caught it—or, more accurately— that he and Hermione had caught it. Moving quickly and deftly, he slipped the golden ball into Hermione's loose hand. She was too dazed to notice.
Still laughing, Ginny scrambled to her feet and went to meet Ron. Harry pushed Hermione into sitting position, keeping his hand at her waist as she shook her head roughly.
"Yeah," she said with finality. "That's definitely the last time I play Quidditch."
He laughed, then whispered to her, "Yeah, but look. You caught the Snitch."
"I…what?" she stammered. She looked at her hand and her eyes grew wide. "I caught—?"
"You did."
She lifted her eyes and gave him a look of heartbreaking joy. He was shocked to see tears welling in her eyes.
"I caught the Snitch?"
"Yes," he smiled softly.
In the next moment, Hermione jumped to her feet and waved the Snitch wildly above her head.
"Hey!" she called to Ron and Ginny. "Hey, look! I caught the Snitch! Ha ha!"
She jumped around in a small circle, pressing the small golden ball to her chest, while Ron and Ginny rejoined them.
"Nicely done," said Ron to his wife.
Hermione embraced him and kissed his cheek. She did the same to Ginny, then Harry. Her face was flushed, her hair stuck up at every angle, and her blouse was covered in grass stains—Harry was hard pressed to remember when he'd seen anything so adorable in some time.
Tucking the Snitch carefully away in her pocket, she marched towards the house.
"I'm keeping this. You'll have to buy a new one."
Harry, Ron, and Ginny watched her go and then, together, moved towards the crate.
"Are you going to tell her it's illegal for any player besides the Seeker to catch the Snitch?" Ginny asked.
"Not a chance," Harry said.
They laughed quietly to themselves.
It was amazing what a little Quidditch could do to distract Harry from the calm before the storm.