No matter what unpleasantness existed in the world around her, Hermione could rely on one inalienable fact...it all melted away the moment she stepped inside the Burrow. The sights and smells and people were a balm to her weary soul. Which is why after the run-in with Malfoy the evening prior, she needed this dinner with her friends now more than ever.
Following her return home the previous night, she barely got a wink of sleep, still fuming over Malfoy's appalling behavior. She found herself over-analysing each interaction as she was often wont to do, trying to pinpoint the source of his sudden agitation.
The only thing she could ascertain as a likely cause was the conversation regarding his parents. She recalled a marked change in his behavior following the brief mention of Portkeying to see them. But that assuredly had nothing to do with her, so it didn't explain why he became so embittered about her discovery.
It had crossed her mind that he didn't take too kindly to her successes surrounding the case. Malfoy did not like to be bested in anything, as evidenced throughout their time together at Hogwarts. Perhaps her progress touched a nerve. Regardless, she knew she didn't deserve his indifference, especially on the heels of his tantrum before and during dinner. She vowed to reexamine her management of their working relationship at a later time, as she glided through the front door of the Burrow.
"Oh, Hermione! So glad you could make it!" The air escaped her lungs in fistfuls as Mrs. Weasley engulfed her in a particularly hardy welcoming embrace, the matriarch whirling her around to take the cloak from her shoulders and hang it on the lopsided metal coat rack in front of the threshold. She held her out at arm's length, eyes sweeping from head to toe and back up again. "Oh, dear! You look so pinched since I saw you last! Never to worry, I have just the thing to fatten you up a bit! Your favorite, treacle tart!"
Hermione chortled as her cheeks heated. "Mrs. Weasley, I saw you only last Sunday."
"Oh, never you mind, dear." She patted her tenderly on the cheek. "Come in! Come in! The others have already arrived! Ron and Harry are in the sitting room. They've been asking about you!" She stepped aside to usher her along.
Hermione turned on her heel. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. Please let me know when you're ready for my help in the kitchen."
She brushed her offer aside with a friendly flourish of her hand. "Oh, nonsense, dear! I can see to it that dinner is on the table while you visit with the boys." When Hermione opened her mouth to protest, she cut in, "Now move along before they think you got Splinched along the way!"
Hermione managed to make it only halfway down the narrow hallway when George came barreling into her. "Hi, Hermione," he bellowed, eyes alight with mischief as he rubbed a knuckled fist back and forth against her bushy head. "Heard you're fraternizing with the enemy."
"Ouch!" she shrieked, swatting him away. "You're the absolute worst!"
He exhaled a devious laugh as he scampered away into the kitchen.
She attempted to right her hair and readjust her disheveled clothing as she rounded the doorway into the sitting room, looking up to see Ron seated alone on the decrepit ramshackle couch. "Will your brother ever tire of his detestable shenanigans?"
Harry expelled a chuckle from across the way, standing to greet her. "He's been particularly unruly since Ron's mum forbade him from testing out his new Wizard Wheezes products in the backyard. The entire back half of the Burrow is dripping with stink sap that no one seems to be able to counter. Do yourself a favor and don't walk out there. I made that mistake earlier," he said, suddenly turning a pale shade of green.
Hermione's displeasure quickly turned to amusement. "We all know to lower our expectations wherever George is concerned," she said, casually stepping around to join Ron on the couch where he remained thoughtfully distracted by the parchment in his hands. "What is it, Ron?" she asked, dropping onto the cushion beside him.
"We went back over to the Lineage Liaison Department again to see if they've had any luck tracing Miriam's extended family so we could notify them of her death. And-" He shuffled in his seat, passing the parchment between them. "Still no luck. They've been unable to identify not one single person on any continent that even comes close to a match." His brow furrowed. "How can there be nobody related to her? No aunts? No uncles? No cousins? It's bizarre, don't you think?"
Hermione looked over the letter from the Lineage Liaison Department, reading the parchment line by line. After several stilted moments, she released a harsh breath. "Is it possible they've all passed away?"
Even she doubted her own assertion.
Ron shook his head. "And that's not even the half of it. Harry, tell her what else they said."
Just then, Ginny peeked her head into the room.
"Mum says to tell you three to wash up. It's five minutes until dinner!" She pivoted to retreat to the kitchen only to peer back in. "Hi, Hermione!" she hollered. "Don't think you're getting away with not spilling the tea! I've got you all to myself after dinner!" With a roguish grin, she trotted away.
"We better not keep your mum waiting," Hermione said with an uneasy smile. "You know how she gets." She shrugged half-heartedly, standing up and drifting toward the door with Harry and Ron at her heels. "We can talk about all of this after dinner, yeah? Well, after Ginny gets done putting me through the ringer."
As they strolled toward the kitchen to wash up, raucous sounds of shrill laughter and disorderly movement scudded through the narrow corridor. Charlie must be here, she thought to herself. There was nothing more insufferable than when he and George teamed up.
Trying to squeeze into the tiny expanse of the kitchen unnoticed proved to be a futile effort as Charlie came prowling around behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist. "Going somewhere, Hermione?" he whispered against the shell of her ear, tickling her sides when she tried to wrench herself from his grasp. "Fiesty as ever, I see!"
"Charlie!" she squealed. "Let go!" She strained to turn away, but not before he snatched a quick kiss from her cheek, loosening his grip and cantering toward the table.
"Why do I even continue to come here?" she asked aloud, catching her breath and full-well knowing she wouldn't have it any other way than the utter chaos and dysfunction the Weasley home provided.
As everyone continued to ready themselves for their meal, Hermione quietly sank into the chair next to Mr. Weasley, believing him to be the safest bet for the most subdued dining experience. He beamed at her with a glint in his ever-kind eyes. "Ah, Hermione! I'd heard you'd arrived! How are things at the Ministry since I last saw you?"
He blinked expectantly.
And there it was...her lofty hope of a peaceful dinner tossed straight out the window with his question.
Mr. Weasley's retirement from the Ministry following the war proved to be a double-edged sword of sorts. The additional free time it afforded him to pursue his leisurely interests, such as Muggle technologies and the like, only ended up allowing him additional time to interrogate Harry, Ron, and her on the current goings-on at the Ministry. She almost wished he had chosen to continue his employment there in some capacity if only to cease the incessant prying. That's not to say she didn't want to share with him the Ministry's inner-workings. It was the simple fact that she couldn't, as a result of Ministry protocol, invariably causing her to teeter between being discourteously vague and unduly divulging. It made for an exhaustive endeavor whenever Mr. Weasley would broach the subject.
"We're remarkably busy," she said, treading ever so lightly to gauge his reaction. Seeing his eyes awash with intrigue, she reluctantly continued. "With our latest case, we find ourselves flitting from place to place without much of a reprieve."
It seemed she had chosen to go with discourteously vague this evening. His rapt attention begged for more, but a look from Harry who had dropped into a chair across from her told her less was more in this instance.
"How's retirement treating you, Mr. Weasley?" he cut in, just in time to save Hermione from her inner struggle.
"Oh! Hi, Harry! Didn't see you there!" he said. "Ginny tells me you two are working a big case down at the Auror Department."
Harry made a mental note to chastise Ginny for feeding her father's insatiable curiosity. Harry had only requested she reinforce the Burrow's wards, not sound a trumpet that they were working the biggest case of their careers.
"Did she now?" Harry replied, all of a sudden finding his water goblet particularly interesting.
He looked across at Hermione and mouthed the word help as Hermione easily added, "It's just a standard investigation, really. We're working on the Miriam Strout murder. I'm sure you read about it in the Daily Proph-"
"Standard investigation?" George bellowed from across the room. "That's not what I heard." He tossed a Bertie Botts every flavor bean into the air, snatching it in his mouth as it tumbled.
Mrs. Weasley smacked him on his shoulder. "George! Stop eating that rubbish right now or you'll ruin your supper!"
Without missing a beat, George added, "I heard the Ministry even pulled Draco Malfoy up to work the case. Said it had taken a dark turn and they needed all the help they could get." He dropped into the chair next to Hermione. "Isn't that right, Hermione?" he asked with a cheeky grin.
Silence fell along with a jolt of tension on the previously bustling kitchen, apart from the loud clatter of Ron's fork dropping onto his plate. The stillness dragged on for the length of a Quidditch pitch until Mr. Weasley gathered his composure and asked the question on everybody's mind. "Lucius Malfoy's son?"
"What other Draco Malfoy do you know?" George asked, clearly getting way too much enjoyment out of the ruckus he'd stirred.
"You know, we're really not supposed to talk about it outside of the Ministry," Harry replied, rubbing the back of his neck.
His restless eyes scanned the room. "I can tell you that Malfoy is helping out in some capacity, but that information is not to leave this room." He glared pointedly across at George. "Kingsley has asked that we direct all our resources toward this case, and so far it's proving useful. At the moment, there doesn't seem to be an imminent threat to the community, but it is always prudent to exhibit constant vigilance."
"Malfoy is proving useful?" George piped in. "Somehow I find that hard to believe." He snorted inelegantly at the mere thought of the former Death Eater succeeding at anything other than counting his Galleons inside his Gringotts vault.
It took all the energy Hermione could muster to formulate a reply. On the heels of the prior evening's events, the last thing she felt compelled to do was defend the ornery sod, but unfortunately the situation called for it so it was therefore unavoidable.
She cleared her throat with marked discomfort. "Harry's right. Malfoy is proving useful, in more ways than one." The lie made her stomach churn thinking of how utterly un-useful he was in every regard, but she forced herself to continue. "Kingsley has actually paired us together to work the more challenging aspects of the case, and so far-"
A gasp from Mrs. Weasley halted her mid-thought. "Oh, dear! Arthur, do you think it's safe for our Hermione to be left alone with the Malfoy boy?" She clutched her kitchen towel to her chest as she spoke, nervously knitting the fray with her fingers.
"Molly, dear," Arthur stuttered with an air of placation. "The Malfoys made amends for their crimes, you know that." He shook a finger around the room at the others. "It would do all of us well to remember which side of the war we fought on and what we worked so hard to achieve." He paused to slide his chair back before standing. "Unity!" he declared, in the stern fatherly way befitting the Weasley patriarch. "We didn't fight this war so that we would continue to be divided. Kingsley has it right." He slapped the palms of his hands against the table as a hesitant smile began to stretch across his maturing face. "I think it's a brilliant way to bridge the divide." He looked from Harry to Ron and then paused when his stare landed on Hermione. "I applaud you Hermione, for embracing the challenges which I'm sure you're facing, working so closely with the Malfoy boy. Old prejudices don't die so easily, do they?" He then glanced around at all the faces locked on his. "Now let's tuck into dinner and let these three have the privacy their Ministry positions require." With a brusque finality, he glared at George as he sunk back into his chair and reached for the platter of pot roast.
George recovered quickly from his scolding by jumping right into a lively commentary about his latest joke shop addition. The Roaming Eyes...a pair of eyeballs, much like the twins' extendable ears, which when released, penetrate any superficial obstacles to give the caster a glimpse into what lies beyond. A loathsome invasion of privacy, no doubt, but being the innovator George was, he constantly pushed the ethical limits of his shop's offerings.
"Those will be special order, only," he said when his mother cast him a disapproving glare from across the table. "And only for authorized-use," he added, winking at Charlie.
Turning to Hermione, Ginny quipped with a roll of her eyes, "Looks like we'll need to shower fully clothed for the foreseeable future."
Hermione nearly spit out her drink, stifling her laughter in her napkin.
"Hermione," Charlie called from down the way. "How did your little date with Dick go last week?" Unnecessary annunciation given to the 'K.'
Hermione's cheeks heated, as she glared daggers across the table at Ron. "First of all, his name is Richard, not Dick. And secondly, it was not a date, so please refrain from calling it so." Her foot tapped a frenetic tune beneath the table with the knowledge that Ron felt the need to gossip about her to his own brother. "It isn't front-page news every time I have lunch in the Ministry cafeteria with a coworker."
"I thought maybe Dick was the reason you keep turning me down," Charlie pressed, a puckish smirk spreading across his face.
"Oh, would you stop!" Mrs. Weasley said, with a backhand to his arm. "Hermione has no interest in either of you bumbling fools." She pointed her fork in the direction of Ron and then back to Charlie.
"Speaking of bumbling fools-" Charlie added, "Ron, where's Lavender this evening?"
Ron's face contorted into a nettled grimace as the others held back their laughter.
"Enough!" Mrs. Weasley shouted, her exasperated voice rising above the raucous din. "Where are your manners?"
"Lav's home fighting a looming deadline for her latest editorial piece, if you must know," Ron began, somehow allowing the snide remark to slip. "She'll be here next week." He looked over at Ginny for a little reassurance before reaching forward to pass the dwindling plate of potatoes across to George.
"Truth be told, she doesn't want to be around you wankers," Ginny scoffed. "When do you go back to Romania, anyways?"
"The end of the week," Charlie replied, plunging another heaping spoonful of steamed okra into his mouth. "So, until then, it looks like you're stuck with me."
"What about you, Gin? When do you head out?" Ron inquired, struggling to be understood above his heavy chewing.
Ginny smoothed her hair and sighed at the mention of departing for her Harpies season. Not that she didn't adore her Quidditch career. She just adored her family more. "Not until the end of the month. But I'll have training off and on throughout the coming weeks." She turned to Charlie. "I'll be in Romania for a match the week after Christmas. Maybe if you're not too busy corralling dragons, you can come watch me play."
He nodded his head with interest. "Is Percy and Audrey coming in for the holidays this year or are the whole lot of them going to be avoiding us again?" Charlie blinked with willful antagonism around the table, inquiring to whoever might have the gumption to orchestrate a reply.
Mrs. Weasley fidgeted anxiously in her seat. "You know Percy is busy with his family. I'm sure he'd love to be here, but with two little ones, it's just so hard." It was painfully apparent her words caused her tremendous anguish, but there was no doubt the flimsy excuse felt much better than the truth, which was that Percy never fully reintegrated back into their family following his traitorous role during the war. It was undoubtedly a sensitive topic, one only Charlie would have the temerity to bring up.
"That's funny. Bill and Fleur always seem to manage," Charlie pointed out, his voice laced with acrid resentment.
Awkward silence again filled the room. "Who's ready for dessert?" Mr. Weasley boomed, rising from his seat and clapping his hands together. When others moved to stand, he commanded, "No, no...please. Stay seated. I'll be right back." He leaned surreptitiously toward Harry, whispering, "Fancy giving me a hand in the kitchen?"
"Sure." Harry nodded, looking across and fixing Hermione with a meaningful stare. The legs of his chair scraped the stone floor, right before the pair departed the room.
"What do you reckon that's about," Ron asked as soon as the others at the far end of the table devolved into conversation.
"I can only assume he's going to pry Harry for information about the case," Hermione surmised. "Why else would he need Harry's assistance in the kitchen?"
Ron shrugged. "I'm sure Harry'll tell us after dinner."
Following their return and the doling out of dessert, the clatter of silverware and dishes again filled the kitchen, everyone partaking in the efforts of cleaning the table with a wave of their wands. As Mrs. Weasley began the daunting task of casting a cleaning spell on the kitchen, Ginny swiftly grabbed Hermione by the arm and dragged her outside to the front porch.
"Start talking," she chided with a smirk. "Don't think for a second I bought any of that tripe about Malfoy being useful. You are an absolute rubbish liar." The pair dropped onto the cushioned loveseat as Hermione covered her face with her hand.
"Was it that obvious?" She dragged her hand farther down her face. "I tried to do my best to ensure your family wouldn't hire round-the-clock Auror protection at my flat." She sunk back into the sofa, pulling her legs up to her chest. "I mean, Malfoy isn't what I'd call dangerous to be around. Well..." she amended with marked aggravation, "maybe dangerous to my mental health." She grimaced at her own acknowledgment, stiffly locking her hands at her ankles for added warmth.
"So, the research isn't going well then I take it?" Ginny crossed her legs and leaned forward conspiratorially.
Hermione spent the better part of half an hour telling Ginny about the previous 48 hours. Everything from Malfoy being thrust onto the case alongside her, to his childish outbursts the prior evening. She even managed to not leave out the rather calamitous detail of them sharing an office. Each recollection left her further incensed.
"Are you going to try to have Kingsley remove him from the case, then?" Ginny asked, absently twirling a lock of vermillion hair around her forefinger.
Hermione sighed. "I wish I could. But I'm afraid I'm left with no other choice but to manage his erratic mood swings." She peered off into the front yard where she could just make out some slight rustling from the gnome garden in the pale moonlight. "I just keep telling myself it's not forever, you know?"
"Mmmm-hmmm." Ginny watched Hermione as she got lost in her own introspection and wondered if her friend could manage to weather this situation without completely losing her mind. Malfoy had a long history of unpleasantries with her and her friends. It seemed tremendously unfair that after all she had done to right the wrongs of the wizarding world, that this would be her reward. Being subjected to Draco sodding Malfoy.
Just then, the front door opened with Harry and Ron bustling through. "Thought we might find you two out here." Harry pulled up a chair and moved to join them. With Ron remaining standing off to the side, Harry looked to Ginny and inquired apologetically, "You mind if we borrow Hermione for a few? We need to finish up our conversation from earlier." His finger moved to slide his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.
Ginny glanced inquiringly at Hermione. "Yeah, we were just finishing up." She stood to stretch, hands moving to right her disheveled shirt. While Ron inched over to inhabit her empty seat, she placed a firm hand on Harry's shoulder. "Come say goodnight before you leave." As she made her way back inside the Burrow, Ron slumped in his seat.
"What was she on about?" he asked Hermione, pulling his collar up around his neck to stifle a chill.
"You know your sister. She won't rest until she knows all the sordid details of my wretched life." She chuckled, enveloping her arms around her folded legs as her body jolted in a light shiver.
Harry cast a wandless warming charm. "I don't suppose you had the chance to mull over this." He plucked the parchment from the Lineage Liaison Department from his inner pocket and she shook her head. "Yeah, well, as Ron said before, this is only the half of it." He flapped the paper until it was resting prone on his lap.
A concerned crease formed between her pliant brows. "What is it, Harry?"
He blew out a deep sigh and began kneading the back of his neck, a telltale sign of his mental strain. "Well, along with discovering she has no known relatives, they also informed us that the Ministry has no record of her birth."
"What?" she gasped quietly under her breath, hand covering her mouth to smother the sound of her bewilderment. "But then, how...or rather-what-" Her puzzled eyes darted tightly between Harry and Ron.
The trio shared a look of bafflement before Harry chimed in with a confounding air. "Ron's dad told me earlier that for many years Miriam's comings and goings have been somewhat shrouded in mystery." He ran a hand in frustration through his already-tousled hair. "Which of course led to a lot of speculation, as mysteries often do."
"What sort of mystery? Did he say?" She leaned forward, stiffening.
"Only that no one really knew who she was or where she came from. I mean, she had a few co-workers she was acquainted with of course, but I'm pretty sure their relationships were mostly superficial in nature." He shifted awkwardly in his chair. "At least that's what I gathered from our interview. It's almost like-." He paused searching for the right words. "Like she just appeared out of thin air one day or something like that."
Hermione let out another gasp, this one she made no effort to extinguish. "Harry, are you saying what I think you are saying?"
"What do you think he's saying?" Ron piped in boldly, confusion marring his broad freckled face.
"You don't think there's a time-turner somehow involved, do you Harry?" Her deeply troubled eyes pleaded for him not to answer in the affirmative.
He narrowed his gaze in consternation. "That's what I was thinking at first too, but after giving it more consideration, it dawned on me that had she used a time-turner, she never would have been able to remain here for as long as she did." His clenched hand formed a fist on his upper lip for a moment before pulling away. "I know we don't know everything there is to know about time-turners, but from what we do know, I think we can safely rule it out. Don't you think?"
"Hmmmm." She stared intently at nothing in particular, mulling over Harry's simple supposition. "Now that I think about it, it doesn't seem to fit. But, if not that, then how do you explain her existence here if there's no record of her ever having existed?"
"Maybe we should have another look around her place...see if we might have missed something the first time around?" Ron interjected, startling them with the interruption.
Hermione raised her eyebrows as she seemed to carefully consider it, looking at Harry in unspoken agreement. "You know, that's not a half-bad idea. After what I uncovered last night, it might be prudent to conduct another search...see if there are any clues that may have been overlooked during the initial investigation."
"Do you think you and Malfoy can have a look around there tomorrow?" Harry inquired delicately, adding, "Ron and I are planning to continue our surveillance of MacNair Manor, otherwise we'd accompany you there."
With an audible sigh, Hermione brought both hands up to massage her temples, Ron not missing the overt gesture.
"What did that git do now?"
Harry gave Ron a pointed look before cautiously adding to his inquiry. "Things not go well last night, 'Mione?"
After several slow and steady breaths, she looked up solemnly and shakily cleared her throat. "Things most definitely could have gone better. As you know, Malfoy isn't exactly a joy to be around. However, I do feel like we made some meaningful progress...that is to say, I made some meaningful progress."
"See, I told you that sod would be a worthless waste of time," Ron huffed at Harry. "He's got 'Mione doing all the work while he probably sits around and hurls insults at her!"
"Ronald! I never said either of those things!" Hermione countered defiantly before slowing her elevated voice as if speaking to a child. "I only said that he didn't have as much success as I did." For the second time that evening, she found herself manufacturing his defense. Truth be told, Ron wasn't too far off from the truth with his accusation, but telling him that would only rile him further.
Ron's face reddened with barely-concealed anger. "I just don't understand why Kingsley would think he'd be anything but a detriment to this case. If he's not doing anything to crack it, what good is he anyway?"
The fact that Ron hadn't contributed anything worthwhile to the case was dangling precariously off the edge of her tongue. Instead, she opted to exonerate Malfoy further by adding, "He was planning on following up on a lead today, so maybe something worthwhile will come of that." Why did she again find herself defending him?
"So what did you end up finding out then, 'Mione?" Harry asked absently, leaning back and propping his feet on the coffee table.
"Well, I'm nearly certain I've found the flower that was stolen from Miriam's," she replied with a tired shrug. "It's ancient...thousands of years old...and it's called the Soleada. The last one known to be in existence was nearing the end of the Ptolemaic Dynasty."
"Ummm...could you speak English please?" Ron interrupted with narrowed eyes, running a coarse hand through his flaming locks. "'Mione, you know you're loads smarter than us. Just please explain it so we can both understand what you're even saying."
"Hey, speak for yourself, Ron," Harry defended. "I've read a fair bit about the Ptolemaic Dynasty. Maybe not as much as Hermione has, but nearly everyone has heard the famous story about Cleopatra and Mark Antony."
The dumbfounded look on Ron's face rendered his next words unnecessary. "Ummm, never heard of them. Why are they important?"
"Harry's not saying they're important," Hermione explained matter-of-factly. "He's only saying their story is quite famous for heralding the end of the Ptolemaic Dynasty." Again, she slowed her speech to further clarify. "They were lovers whose lives both came to a rather sticky end."
"And..." Ron quipped. "Are you going to tell us how they died or are you going to just leave us hanging?"
Hermione smirked at her friend's impatience, thinking an inquisitive Ron was a rather charming sight. Although, it also, unfortunately, reminded her of another not-so-charming individual who was equally impatient.
She casually folded her hands in her lap and leaned forward, beginning in her familiar clinical voice, "Antony, a Roman general, was cornered by his enemy's military forces in Alexandria and in desperation committed suicide."
Harry nodded curtly as the grim recollection awakened his senses.
"And his lover, Cleopatra, was reportedly so distraught that she too killed herself." Her lips tightened into a fine line as she glanced stiffly between the two of them before regretfully adding the worst part, "By allowing a poisonous snake to bite her."
Their faces unanimously contorted into a grimace at the exceedingly morbid assertion.
"Although, there is much controversy surrounding the way in which she died," she amended, blinking at the rather comical look of abject horror on her friends' faces. "This is only what occurred according to legend, of course. If it's to be believed."
"Right, well...as uplifting as that gruesome little story was, maybe we should get back to what else you discovered in your research," Ron said, thoroughly disinterested in hearing more about the pointless carnage.
Hermione tossed her head back lightly as she tittered. "History is rather hopelessly painted in blood, isn't it?" Her body shook with uncontained mirth at Ron's unamused expression. "So...as I was saying." She gracefully cleared her throat before beginning anew. "The flower is called the Soleada and according to legend one can use it to tether their life to another. Although I'm still not exactly sure how." She looked with uncertainty over at Harry whose posture edged toward rigid. "I did read something rather troubling, in one of my texts, however. It specifically said, 'Both can live while the other survives.'" Harry's leg began tapping restlessly at the eerily-familiar addition. "Which begs the question...if Miriam was perhaps using this flower to tether her life to another, who might that other person be?"
Harry sighed nervously. "I have no idea. As I said, she didn't have many close friends and as far as I know, they're all still alive."
Her mouth tightened at the lamentable admission. "Right."
After several long moments passing in pensive silence, Hermione shrieked, "That's it!"
Harry and Ron nearly jumped out of their seats at the unexpected outburst. "What's it?" Ron asked irritably, brow furrowed in annoyance.
"That's why the autopsy report came back that she didn't die from the Avada curse! She died when the Soleada was stolen from her because that's what was keeping her alive!" Her enthusiasm reached a fever-pitch with each syllable. "It makes perfect sense!" She swiveled zealously to face Harry and Ron as they sat there in stunned silence.
Ron let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head blandly. "That thought isn't as comforting as you might think it is. That means MacNair knows what it is and how to use it."
Harry cut in, frowning, "That also means MacNair isn't working alone, which we always suspected. But, your theory all but assures us of that fact."
She permitted a nod, still rather pleased with her unexpected revelation. "Yes, but if my theory is correct, we can confidently turn our focus to the brooch...speaking of which, one of my texts last night revealed it's nearly identical to the ones the Ancient Romans wore to fasten their robes. It's called a fibula," she supplied eagerly, catching the sight of Ron in her peripheral, looking unsurprisingly drained.
Pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose, Ron exhaled absently while rolling his eyes, "Any guesses how an Ancient Roman brooch ended up in the house?"
She sank lower in her seat, offering regretfully, "Unfortunately, not. I'm hoping Malfoy made some progress today on that front."
"Pftttt," Ron sparked angrily. "Don't count on it."
Harry drummed his fingers against his armrests with a forced calmness and swallowed thickly. "Here we go again. I think we've established that Malfoy is a permanent fixture on this case, Ron. Like it or not, he's here to stay."
"Look, maybe we've made enough progress on the case for one night," Hermione interrupted tangentially. She gestured over her shoulder to the door. "Harry, I know you're itching to get out of here to see Ginny. Why don't you go...I'll catch up with you before I leave." She boldly shoed him away with a flap of her hand.
"We'll follow up on this tomorrow," he assured her, rising to stand as his arms hopelessly stretched upward. His lips quirked up with a lopsided grin before adding, "Don't go solving all the world's problems out here without me." Swaying slightly, he turned and retreated inside the Burrow.
A marked silence descended on the front porch following his departure, the cool night's breeze now notably suffocating.
"So..." Hermione muttered uncomfortably.
"So..." Ron sighed, letting out a shaky breath.
Suddenly finding it particularly cumbersome to be sitting so close to Ron on the settee, she casually migrated across to occupy Harry's vacated seat. He noticed the gesture and shifted uneasily, raking a hand through his chaotic hair and forcing his focus to stay set on anything other than where she settled.
Following their horribly ill-advised coupling several years prior, their friendship snapped right back into its easy existence, apart from a niggling unidentifiable tension that was born in its wake. Neither addressed it so it simply became a ubiquitous byproduct of their failed pairing, which Hermione simply chose to ignore whenever the occasion called for it. Tonight being one such occasion.
Leaning back to find a more relaxing posture, Hermione kicked her feet onto the coffee table, angling her head back to survey the inky sky. Stars blanketed the heavens in the billions, a milky mass of celestial bodies, light-years from Earth. The night sky always had a way of grounding her in a way nothing else could. She inhaled deeply, remembering her sheer insignificance amidst the massive expanse of the universe. A war-heroine among her peers juxtaposed against what had her feeling like a mere speck of matter just passing through this ever-brief lifetime. Suddenly, the problem of Malfoy and the challenges of the case and the tension between her and Ron seemed so utterly trivial she could barely believe the energy she'd permitted it.
A subtle throat-clearing from across the way dragged her from her thoughtful introspection. She sat up, wondering how long Ron had been staring at her.
He gruffly adjusted his flannel shirt, tugging mindlessly at the sleeves before rubbing his damp hands against his thighs. "Do you ever think we would have worked out had we given things a proper go?" he finally wondered aloud.
Her heart rate accelerated at the highly unanticipated inquiry. She half-expected Ron to continue his relentless tirade about Malfoy, but this...this she most certainly did not see coming.
The topic of their failed relationship had been broached only once following their breakup, and that was many moons ago-long before he and Lavender began dating. Now seemed like a rather odd time to rehash the past, leaving her wondering exactly why he'd chosen the current moment to go down this flobberworm hole.
She took a moment to gather her thoughts, deciding the best way to answer was with resolute honesty.
"I tend not to spend too much time looking backward. I much prefer looking forward." She picked painstakingly at her fraying jeans, continuing in an unusually careful manner. "But because you're asking genuinely, I'll tell you what I think would have happened had we given things a proper go, as you put it."
Her lips parted to speak, but she stopped, reframing her assessment before continuing. "You and I made loads of sense foundationally-speaking...however...the finer-tuned aspects of our lives could not have been more ill-fitted."
She looked up to see a grieved confusion written across his pallid features so she moved to reclaim the seat next to him on the settee and reached over to delicately squeeze his hand.
"We have an amazing friendship, Ronald...one we've strengthened over the past near-decade. You know as well as I do that anchoring ourselves to each other would have been catastrophic to everything we've built. We saw that within the first few weeks of our pathetic attempt."
She smothered a half-laugh remembering how much bickering they had squeezed into such a brief period of time. "Sorry, I don't mean to laugh. It's just, do you remember the row we had when Cormac McLaggen owled me tickets to the Chudley Canons game?" Her stifled chuckle grew to full-blown laughter as she fought to choke back tears.
Ron's face reddened with embarrassment as the unsavory event resurrected itself from the archives of their past. He dragged a hand down his face in mortification, peering up through his sparsely-spread fingers. "You had to bring that up."
She threw her head back nearly roaring with laughter, barely able to gasp out her next words. "You sent him candies laced with love-potion from Matilda in Magical Transportation," she finally managed, struggling to catch her breath as she recalled what happened next. "And she ended up summoning the DMLE when he showed up at her flat at 3 in the morning to profess his undying love for her."
"He deserved it," Ron snorted unapologetically. "Cormac has always been a tosser."
"Ron!" she bellowed, swatting him artlessly on the leg. "Those tickets were a gift for YOU!"
"Well, in my defense, I didn't know that at the time!"
She swatted him again more firmly. "Ugh, that's my point! We spent more time sorting out manufactured problems than we did actually enjoying each other's company. It was doomed from the start." They chuckled as the mirth began to dwindle and a stillness settled in its place.
They paused for a moment to amicably look at each other. Not just a glance this time, a deliberate searching of the mind and soul. "I don't want to lose this, 'Mione." He reached across to re-secure their parted hands. "I remember all the reasons why it didn't work out. It's just sometimes when I see you here with my family...and I think about how happy I feel when we're all together...it's impossible to convince myself that we wouldn't be as easy as breathing, ya know?"
She sighed in resignation, rubbing her thumb across his knuckles. "I know. On parchment, it sure looks like a match made in heaven, doesn't it?" She tittered quietly, moving to rest her head on his shoulder.
"It does," he said, resting his head against hers in turn. "And it sure would make my mum happy...she barely tolerates Lavender, you know."
"She'll come around," she sighed. "Give her time."
"How much more time can I give her? We've been together for nearly a year!"
"Speaking of which, have you thought of how you plan to spend your anniversary?"
"You know Lav. She wants a big soiree with all our closest friends." She could hear the underlying hint of annoyance in his voice. "I told her we should go out for a nice, fancy dinner, but she wasn't having it." He shrugged indifferently, although not with enough force to unseat Hermione's head from the comfort of his broad shoulder.
"Well, a year is a big milestone." It sounded like she was about to take Lavender's side on the matter so she quickly amended, "I'm sure whatever you choose will be lovely."
"Will you come if we end up having a party?" His off-handed question sounded more like a plea.
"Of course I will," she replied earnestly, tilting her head towards him. "I've never told you this, but I'm really happy you and Lavender found your way back to one another. You're well-suited, I think."
He drew a long breath. "Yeah, she's a good one, Lav. She really gets me, ya know?" He tapped his foot anxiously against the leg of the wicker table. "I just wish she fit in better here with my family. It makes it loads harder when she's the butt of everyone's jokes." He leaned back to gaze up wistfully at the night sky. "Part of me wonders if she skips out on dinner because of work or if she's just grown tired of the pressure of trying to impress everyone."
"Have you talked to her about it?"
"It wouldn't change anything if I did," he replied, shrugging. "My mum has made it pretty clear she'd prefer you. It's like she's just biding her time, waiting for us to break up." He exhaled a mournful sigh. "And don't think Lav hasn't noticed."
"I can talk to her if you'd like. Your mum, that is." She sat up gently, turning to fix Ron with a meaningful stare. "Maybe if she had a better understanding of our relationship, she'd finally move along from this illusion she's created. I mean, it can't hurt, right? And if it'd make things better for the two of you-"
He inclined his head, considering her offer. "You know, you really are brilliant, you know that?" He reached around and dragged her in for a long and gracious hug, leaning forward to place a chaste kiss on the top of her head. "Mum might actually listen to you. And I know it would mean a lot to Lav." He held her out at arm's length, looking her earnestly in the eyes. "Thanks, 'Mione. I owe you one."
She smiled brightly, grabbing his hands and pulling him to stand. "It'll all work out. C'Mon. Let's head in. It's getting late and we have work in the morning."
He nodded his head, slinging a loose arm around her shoulders as they made their way inside.
