Chapter 86

"Ugh… that was messy."

The moment Ron Apparated back into the Auror Office, he began removing the dried mud from his robes. It fell to the ground in puddles as he ran his wand over the stains.

His whole left arm was purpled and bruised from where he had been flung into a wall, and he'd probably need some new robes because his current ones were almost torn beyond (magical) repair. He wasn't quite sure what spells had caused the damage — he'd been hit by a lot and somehow suffered little.

Harry was beside him, doing the same, and they now stood amongst dirt and a bunch of victorious, yet personally defeated, Aurors.

The Black Robes were getting larger and more chaotic every time they made an appearance. They outnumbered the Aurors by a lot, but the group — whoever they were — were mostly untrained. Many of the opponents were weak and lacked knowledge in spells, making it easy for a single Auror to take on three or four at once.

The investigations had been going on for nearly two years now, and no one was any closer to finding out who the hell they were. They were a mystery. A large, unorganised mystery that appeared at random intervals, months apart. But they were also very dangerous. They were not afraid of killing.

At least this time the Aurors had gotten there before too many Muggles became their victims.

A moment after Ron had begun cleaning his robes, a large group of Aurors appeared in the room with an even larger group of prisoners. They were all magically bound and their wands confiscated, some even with their own torn robes.

Robards stepped forward between the group, looking annoyed and angry. It was the same process every time. Get the captured prisoners down to the court rooms for questioning and sit there for hours with them either pretending to, or not being able to speak. Then they'd lock them away until a trial occurred, in which most would be let out on technicalities. No one could prove which members had been the ones to kill or terrorise the Muggles, so no one was punished.

It was a tiresome, repetitive process every few months now.

"Alright, you know the drill," Robards said to the Aurors in a deadpan tone. "Get them down. Thomas and Henrique, I'll have both of you down in the rooms with me today."

Dean straightened at the mention of his name, grinning. He'd never been given the chance to sit with one of them before and question them.

"The rest of you… start on the paperwork. It'll be a busy few days." Robards almost sounded bored as he followed the Aurors with the captives out of the office.

Ron and Harry waited for the office to empty before they bothered to move. With torn and tattered robes, neither of them moved straight to their desks. Harry pointed his wand at Ron and managed to fix some aspects of his uniform, though some areas were too magically damaged for a simple Reparo. Ron did the same in return, and then they sat down at their desks, Ron for once glad to be there.

This had been a nice one in comparison to the others. Less Black Robes and less Muggles to protect. Still, he had come out bruised anyway. He'd been tossed around, thrown against the ground and walls and hit by spells over and over.

Ron hadn't enjoyed a single moment of it. Sometimes he wondered why he continued to even show up.

He and Harry (and all the other Aurors) spent the morning filling out the documents of the days' events. Over the years, Ron had learnt to be thorough in his reports. He wasn't usually one for words, but this was important detailing and made the process of handing things over to Hermione and her office at the end a whole lot easier.

Besides, Ron knew he was a good Auror. He was thorough in areas where he never had been in school. He'd given the bare minimum effort to his homework, turning in, more often than not, an essay that barely reached the minimum length requirement. He would have much preferred spending his time doing other things that interested him.

Once he returned from a mission — as scarce as they were — he was happy to report the events in as much detail as possible. That way, when the time came to be trialled down in the courtrooms, he'd have as much evidence as needed for Hermione to do her thing.

He'd watched her once, sitting in one of the seats as she attempted to defend a wrongly accused goblin of stealing gold from a wealthy wizard's vault. She hadn't even known he was there, but she went about the room, directing questions and responses to all the right people. She'd been so dignified, so confident of her presence in that room that it was near impossible for anyone bar the accusor to know that the goblin had not taken any gold.

She was brilliant, and it had spurred him to be brilliant, also. They didn't work together, but their jobs aligned a lot of the time, and he felt it was important that they made it easy for one another.

He was fifteen inches of parchment into his report when he paused, reading over the last few sentences he'd written. He frowned.

"Was Evers with you, Harry?"

Harry looked up, thought, then shook his head. "No, I don't think so. She…" He scanned his own document. "I have no record of her actually being present today."

Ron looked up, his eyes searching out Gertrude Evers' desk. She was bent over, scribbling away also, looking as battered and beaten as every other Auror.

She was a newish Auror, about one and a half years post training. A good, hard-working, talented witch; but quiet. Ron couldn't recall saying more than a few words to her in the eighteen months she'd been in the office.

"I can account for every other Auror," Ron said. "Except her…"

Harry scanned his own document again, frowning. "All Aurors were called. She had to be there."

"I remember her lining up in the office, then we all Disapparated and it —"

"It was insanity from the moment we landed," Harry finished.

"I still knew the location of every Auror," Ron said. "Clear as day. We're supposed to know that…" He thought for a moment.

"We can just ask…" Harry said. "She'll know."

"Was she a Slytherin at Hogwarts?" Ron asked.

"What?" Harry said, looking stunned by the question. "What's that got to do with it?"

Ron shrugged. "Nothing… just… thinking."

There was silence, Ron once again looking over to the young woman.

"You're not suggesting she is one of them, are you?" Harry asked. "Aurors are vetted and trained thoroughly. She couldn't… and even if she was a Slytherin, that doesn't automatically make her bad."

"Ever heard her speak?" Ron asked.

"What?"

"Well, the Black Robes, they can't speak, can they? So —"

"She's spoken to me," Harry said. "Once or twice. Perfectly normal."

Ron shrugged. "Alright, well, we've got to figure out where she was during the fight one way or the other. I'll go and check with Ryan." He got up from his desk, feeling uneasy by something he couldn't quite explain. He'd never gotten any negative vibes from Evers before, but he had considered her rather odd. It just wasn't something he fretted over when he came home each day. She was weird, but so were a lot of people. Wasn't Luna somewhere in South America searching for giant snails with telepathic powers? He liked Luna, she was his friend, and she certainly wasn't a bad person just for being different.

"Ryan," Ron said, coming to stand in front of the older Auror. "You got everyone accounted for in your report?"

Ryan looked up at Ron. "Not all the enemy, because they won't even tell us their names, their wands are all unidentified, but the Aurors, yes."

Ron nodded. "Great. Can you confirm the location of Gertrude Evers during the mission? Harry and I have… er… different accounts."

Ryan looked back down at the report and read through it. He was silent for a long while, a frown spreading across his brows the more he reread his writing. He picked up his quill, made to scribble something on it, but stopped himself.

"I must have missed someone," he said. "Where did you and Potter have her?"

"We didn't," Ron said plainly.

Ryan's eyebrows shot up his forehead. "But you just said —"

"Yeah, was just checking," Ron said. "Make note of three Aurors being unable to account for her during the mission, would you?"

This statement surprised Ryan. He looked over at Evers, who didn't seem at all perturbed or on edge. She looked as she always looked — calm and collected. Great qualities in an Auror.

"Just write what you remember," Ron amended.

Ryan nodded, but looked uncomfortable as Ron walked away.

"Any luck?" Harry asked.

"That's three of us who can't place her," Ron said.

"That still doesn't mean —"

"Yeah, I know. I guess it's just something to keep an eye on. I might deliver everyone's reports to Hermione today, once we're all done. Encourage her to read through them thoroughly. See if she notices any abnormalities."

"We could just ask her, you know. Evers, I mean," Harry said. "Sometimes Robards gives us individual orders to do something separate from the others. She could have had a separate job."

Ron shrugged. "The most likely explanation, I suppose. Still, wouldn't someone know that?"

"Robards?" Harry suggested with a raised eyebrow. "He is due back from the courtrooms soon. So we'll wait for him to write up his own account and then have Hermione compare. If there's anything amiss, she'll notice it. It all seems pretty normal to me, though."

Ron had to agree. It wasn't completely out of character for one of the Aurors to do some secret mission outside of the others. Secrecy came in their job description. But Ron's instincts were telling him that that wasn't the case this time. He had a funny feeling about Evers' whereabouts today and he couldn't shake it.

He ensured he was thorough for the remainder of the report, making note of the presence of every Auror within the vicinity. It was probably the longest one he'd ever written, being more diligent than usual about the matter.

It was nearing half past two when he finished. He dropped his quill, massaging his hand.

Everyone was back in the office now, Robards, Dean and Henrique having returned about an hour before with the same news as always — none of the Black Robes spoke a single word to them.

Still holding his aching hand, Ron stood up and went to Robards' desk in the office, dumping his report in front. "Am I the last one?" he asked.

"Not quite," Robards said, looking up at Ron and accepting the report. "I must say, Weasley, you're not usually one of the last to finish."

Ron chose not to respond. He contemplated asking Robards if he gave Evers any special instructions but decided not to. There was no point in alerting him to one of his Aurors without any proof.

Instead, he said, "When you have them all, I'll take them down to the Personal Law office."

Surprisingly, Robards laughed. "Not a very subtle way of asking to see your wife."

Ron grimaced but said nothing.

Robards nodded. "I have two more to collect and then it's all yours. That office will be busy sorting through them all, that's for sure."

Ron returned to his desk to contemplate all that he'd learnt. He took his time, since Evers had finished up an hour ago and was gone. Had Robards read through her report along with the others? Had he noticed a difference in them? Or was everything above board and was Ron just fantasising an answer to something that had baffled the Aurors for nearly two whole years?

He tidied his desk, sifted through some old reports, but that gave him no answers. Maybe if he got out all the others there'd be a link.

"Weasley!"

Ron startled.

"Over here. They're ready."

Ron jumped up from his chair and moved quickly over to Robards' desk. The Head Auror indicated the rolls of parchment perched on his desk. "It's been a busy day and so I haven't had the chance to read through the last few myself, but get them to the Office of Personal Law. It's their problem now."

Usually Robards would wave his wand and the reports would end up on Hermione's desk to sort through. But Ron conjured a bag and tipped the reports into it.

He then left down the corridor in the hope of catching Hermione before she finished up for the day. She was standing by a filing cabinet, her head buried in a lengthy piece of parchment alongside Maia.

Upon seeing him, her eyes widened, and she left the conference with her junior lawyer and came over to him.

"What happened?" she asked.

"What?" Ron said.

Hermione reached out a hand to his face and immediate pain coarsed over it. He'd almost forgotten about the injuries he'd obtained today.

"Oh… yeah… another Black Robes fight. Got the reports." He offered a grin and held up the bag.

"Another one?" Hermione asked. "They're getting closer together now."

Ron shrugged. "Gives us something to do."

Hermione looked at him worriedly. Her hand now traced his tattered robes, running down the length of his arm where spots of purple were visible beneath torn pieces of fabric.

"Wait until you see my whole left side," Ron told her. "Might even leave a few scars. Will be a story to tell our kid when she's older."

Hermione didn't look amused. She always hated it when he showed up injured — ever since the first time and he'd landed himself in hospital. But he'd been rusty then, unused to fighting. These days, it was a little more frequent.

"Those reports," Ron said, drawing her attention back to the matter at hand. "Just read them… carefully, alright?"

Hermione frowned, looking almost insulted. "I always read them carefully."

"I know, but just be extra thorough, okay?"

Hermione now raised a questioning eyebrow, but rather than giving her an answer he kissed her cheek.

"I'll see you at home, okay? Love you."

"Please don't get yourself hurt again, Ron," Hermione called after him. "I'd like our daughter to meet her dad when he's not missing an arm."

Ron smiled to himself as he went back to the Auror Office.

Yes, he'd like that, too.

…

That evening, Hermione didn't mention anything about the reports. As they ate, she quizzed him about what happened that day, how he managed to get so badly beaten up, and asked time and again if he was okay.

But then she disappeared into the study, claiming she needed to finish some work, and by the time she came to bed, it was nearing midnight.

Usually, Ron was asleep by then, but he couldn't. He needed to ask her.

"Oh, God, Ron, look at you."

Once Ron had taken his clothes off for bed, he'd been unable to lift his arms to put another shirt on. The bruising was worse than he'd thought, running all the way down his side from his armpit to his hip. His whole left arm was almost black with very little pink skin showing.

He'd been unable to look at himself in the mirror after the first glance.

"Pretty, isn't it?" he said, propping his back against a pillow. "Hurts like hell."

Hermione came over to the bed to examine him more closely. "Did you put anything on it to help?"

"Yeah, didn't do much. I think it's a combination of curses and physical injury. It'll heal."

Hermione shook her head. "I think I hate being married to an Auror," she said after a moment.

Ron smiled. "Yeah, it's pretty dangerous, isn't it? But I'm alright. I can look after myself better than most."

Hermione gave his injuries one last look and then changed into her pyjamas. A few minutes later, she was in bed beside him.

"So, I read the reports," she said almost instantly, also sitting up against the bed head.

"And?" Ron asked, curiosity surging within him.

"It's… interesting," Hermione said slowly. "I didn't notice it at first. It wasn't until I read Ryan's version of events that it stuck out."

"Ryan?" Ron questioned, frowning. "He's —"

"The Auror, Evers, claimed he gave her an instruction to go around the battle and approach from the other side. But, his report doesn't mention her at all. Doesn't even indicate she was at the place today. He's a pretty experienced Auror, and I doubt he'd forget giving an instruction such as that."

Ron nodded and waited for her to continue.

"So, I then went back and reread everything. There's not a single mention of her being there apart from her own report.

"Before I left today, I grabbed some old reports from past encounters with these people, and the only mention of her being involved is from Robards when he lists the people he called to go out. No one has ever reported her fighting alongside them before."

She looked at Ron, her expression thoughtful. "Is that why you asked me to read through them today? Did you work that out, too?"

"It was brought to my attention," Ron answered with a single nod. "To be honest, I was hoping for a logical explanation from you."

"It's so subtle," Hermione said. "So clever. I probably wouldn't have noticed had you not asked me to read through it carefully. I just… can't work it —"

Hermione stopped, her eyes widening. Her hands flew to her stomach.

"What?" Ron said quickly, feeling panic rise within him. "What's wrong?"

"The baby…" Hermione said, turning surprised eyes to him.

"What?" Ron said again, his heart pounding. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Hermione said. "No… nothing's wrong. I just… I felt the baby move, I think."

"What do you mean?" Ron said, his heart rate slowing ever so slightly.

Hermione grabbed his uninjured hand and brought it to her rounding stomach. She placed his hand on the side.

Ron waited for a moment, but nothing happened. Hermione looked at him apologetically. "I swear it was that," she said. "I felt my tummy change shape and everything." She smiled. "That was a weird feeling."

Ron kept his hand where she'd placed it. He was about to give up when he felt something hard press against the palm of his hand.

Hermione beamed at him while Ron stared at the spot where he'd just felt his daughter. A head, a foot, an arm, he didn't care.

"Woah," he whispered after a moment. "That's…"

"Amazing," Hermione breathed. "I think she's rolling around. She's going again." She moved Ron's hand to another part of her stomach and this time Ron was certain it was a foot he could feel.

The day's events all but left his mind. There they sat in bed, enjoying the moment of feeling their little girl move around — almost as if she really was with them.

A lot had happened today — new injuries, new discoveries — and yet this simple moment was what he would remember for years to come. His family.

He looked at Hermione and smiled at her. "Four months," he said. "Just four more months and we'll have her here."

And as they sat in bed together, he couldn't help but replay Hermione's words from earlier over and over in her mind.

I'd like our daughter to meet her dad when he's not missing an arm.

Out of everything that had happened, even the disparities with Evers, those words stuck. Suddenly, it felt like the bruises covering his body were a message — a warning — that maybe he was only one fight away from actually losing a limb, or worse.

And he didn't want that.

What he wanted was, in four months time, to be able to hold his daughter properly.

Being able to do that was more important to him than any job he could ever hold. Even if he felt a breakthrough coming right around the corner. It was more important than anything.

Feeling her little foot press against his hand solidified that feeling.

If he was going to come home bruised and beaten every second week from being an Auror, then he didn't want to do it.

No matter how good he was at it.

Hi all! I know some of you have been waiting for an update. I think I forgot to say I was doing NaNoWriMo in November, which is why I wasn't updating! But now that November is over, I'll be back to updating more frequently. Especially in the New Year.

Also, FFN has kind of gone to crap and is apparently not providing emails for story updates. So if you'd like updates, please feel free to follow this story on ao3 instead, where you'll get updates. I write under FireTheCanon on there!

Until next chapter :D