Where Angels Fear To Tread

Where Angels Fear to Tread

Chapter Three: Hope Loves Despair

***************

Halloween, 1998

The Fortress of Azkaban

It was like being in a B-grade horror movie, complete with shrill screaming, creaking steps, bad odours and blood splats. The scenes of carnage before them now were even worse than the one they had just left behind. Hermione froze for a second, her mind struggling to comprehend the extent of the destruction, before she snapped herself out it. She turned and shook Ron on the shoulders, trying to wake him from the strange dazed state he seems to have slipped into since the last chamber.

The haze in his blue eyes cleared instantly. He blinked and turned to Harry, who was threading a hand through his hair, trying to make it lie still. The only thing this accomplished was to dye his dark hair with red and brown streaks of blood and grime. His normally pale fingers were almost completely crimson. The sword of Gryffindor was bathed in blood. He caught Hermione´s eye and smiled reassuringly.

"Let´s go."

As they walked on, constantly side-stepping bodies and hands reaching up to grab at thin air, Hermione had to fight to contain her rising nausea. She felt sick. None of them had expected this final day, their hour of victory, to contain so much blood, so much pain, and so much death. Not even Harry had ever come close to seeing something this terrible, even in his worst nightmares. As she stepped over yet another corpse - is that Penelope Clearwater? - Hermione repeated her silent mantra.

It´s almost over. It´s almost over.

Shuffling, footsteps. She groaned internally as the sounds registered.

"Did you hear that?"

"Goddammnit! I have to get to Dumbledore and Voldemort before it´s too late. We really don´t need another batch slowing us down."

Hermione´s mind was working overtime. Harry´s desperation was evident, and from the sound of the footsteps, there were quite a few Death Eaters heading this way. They couldn´t afford to have that group at their heels while they tried to take down Voldemort. Their secrecy had been compromised half an hour ago, so there really was no time left.

So...decision made, she caught Ron´s eye. He nodded back at her, their silent communication having been perfected in their years as friends, then as lovers. His voice was hoarse from shouting, but it was steady as he spoke.

"Go on, Harry, we´ll hold ´em off for you." He reached out and gave Harry a push forward before he could protest. Harry took one glance at their determined expressions and realised that arguing was not something they had time for.

"Alright, but you take care of yourselves, okay?" Two nods later, he sped off in the direction of Voldemort´s chamber.

Ron and Hermione turned to face the onslaught.

For a while, there was nothing but death, protection and survival on her mind. To survive she had to kill. To kill was to protect. It was hard to tell which enemies were real and which were imagined in the ensuring chaos. They were hopelessly outnumbered. They fought mindlessly. It seemed like eternity would pass with them killing, hurting, being hurt, their universe centred on a pin pick of reality.

Through the hailstorm of curses and counter curses, she heard a strange whizzing sound. She glanced in the general direction just in time to shout a warning. It was too late. She watched, as if in slow motion, as the silver arrow (designed for werewolves or vampires, the back of her mind supplied) shot towards Ron.

She watched as it pierced his skin. She watched as it tore through his heart. She watched, as if in a dream, as he fell to the ground, bleeding scarlet all over the cold stone floor. Ron Weasley was no werewolf or vampire, but he was a mere mortal, easily wounded, easily killed.

Hermione watched as he bled, knowing that all she knew died with him, knowing that she could not save him, and she was silent as all she saw became covered with splendid crimson.

She doesn´t remember the next ten minutes or so because they have been painted over with red. When she became aware again, she was clutching his body to her and sobbing quietly, tearlessly, with the bodies of Death Eaters surrounding them. His blood stained everything she saw, her hair, her robes, and the floor. It was a surrealistic painting where the artist in the grips of delirium had access to only red paint.

Harry was standing next to her, his face blank and lifeless. There was nothing of his usual composure in his expression. He seemed lost, stripped of all emotion or power.

"Harry!" He didn´t even blink. "Harry, what is it? Is Dumbledore -" Her voice cracked. She could not go on.

He nodded once. His voice, when he spoke, was without inflection. "He´s dead. We´ve lost." This was incomprehensible to Hermione. It just couldn´t happen. One´s world did not simply just end like that. She had to ask, even if his eyes warned her that she would not like what she heard.

"What do you mean? What happened?"

"I failed. Voldemort got away somehow. Dumbledore´s dead. Ron´s dead. It´s all over. And it´s all my fault." She was silent. What would one say to that? The disaster they have just experienced was so catastrophic that neither knew what to do. Hermione was grasping at straws, trying not to drown. After a painfully long silence, she spoke again.

"It´s not your fault, Harry. We all know how powerful Voldemort is. If Dumbledore couldn´t defeat him, we certainly can´t expect you to..." He cut her off.

"No, You don´t understand. I had a chance. I could have finished him. I know I could have. I just know it somehow." He sank to the floor, his eyes trained on the arrow sticking out of Ron´s chest. After another eternity, he looked up again, his eyes wild and desperate.

"Maybe I was wrong. Maybe we should have practised. Then it might have worked." Throwing his head back, he laughed wildly. "God, I wish Malfoy was here. He´d just love this."

Hermione had had enough at this point. She was tired, she was scared and she felt like she´d die from grief. So she lashed out.

"What are you talking about? Make sense, dammit." He jerked back as if she´d hit him.

`The Killing Curse. The third Unforgivable. Avada Kedavra, whatever you want to call it. It didn´t work. I don´t know, maybe I was too weak, maybe he was protected from that sort of thing." He bowed his head, curling up into a tiny ball, and stopped moving altogether.

"What are we going to do now?"

Hermione tried to think, she really did. Her mind was her greatest weapon and it had never yet failed her. But at that moment, all she could think of was the blood. So they sat still and unmoving.

They stayed that way for a long time.

********************

Evening, The Second Day, 2008

Granger-Weasley Residence

Ron had been everything to her - a constant when everything else was uncertain, a shoulder to lean on when things went wrong. He had held her together when news of her parents´ death came, and sometimes he was the only thing holding the trio together, unlikely as it seems, with Harry´s mind unravelling rapidly and her temper getting shorter everyday. They had been talking of marriage. They were young, yes, but with the looming war, one never knew what might happen. After his death, everything changed.

It was on a wonderful day, just like this one, that her life had ended.

Now, a pair of green eyes from her past were staring at her with a strange blankness, daring her to wake from her self-induced hibernation and exile from society.

"Welcome back to the world of the living, Hermione."

She stood there, staring at him, for a good minute before her mind kicked in and she dragged him inside.

"What do you think you´re doing, just standing out there like that? What if someone sees you? You just got out, I´m sure you don´t want to go back again."

Hermione frowned up at him, or at least, tried her hardest to. It was hard to be angry at someone she knew had been suffering in a hell-hole in the past three years. He reached out and touched her hair, as if afraid that she wasn´t real.

"It´s good to see you."

She nodded, an answering smile starting to creep up on her face. She felt alive again. It was like being bought out of deep-freeze, like being struck by lightning. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world. She was finally back to doing what she was born to do.

"Did anyone track you? Does anyone know you´re here?" Without waiting for a reply, she whirled around and starting walking, expecting him to follow. Up the stairs, into the third floor corridor - and no, the irony of this did not escape her - second door from the left. Ah. The cornerstone. She whipped out her wand, started to twirl it, and then stopped to stare at it. God, She hadn´t really used it for so long. Just the common household spells, really. Nothing powerful.

Ah well. Here goes nothing.

She twirled her hand in a precise motion and cast the strongest shielding/anti-detection charm she knew on the Cornerstone, which held all of the mansion´s security spells. "Alright. Now they won´t be able to find you unless they walk in here." She nodded in satisfaction. "And I´ll be damned if I let any of Fudge´s cronies into my house."

The sound of a chuckle made her jump. Hermione turned to see Harry leaning against a wall, almost beaming at her.

"I´m glad to see you too, Harry, but what´s so funny?"

"Some things never change, do they." He shook his head and started to count on his long fingers. "In order: I was waiting for you to open the door; if they see me then there´s always Obliviate; no, I certainly don´t want to go back; I don´t think so; and maybe."

She nodded along, her mind racing, before she got to the `maybe´. "What do you mean, maybe? You´re usually better than that."

He tapped his fingers against the wall. "That was when I had a wand, Hermione."

She nodded. Right, he would need a wand, if he were going to get around undetected. Frankly, she thought that he should have done this a long time ago. She had offered to help him get out before, when they discovered that they could not get him out by legal means. He had waved her off then, telling her that she had a new, peaceful life now, and he did not want disturb her new existence. The fact that he would even turn up on her doorstep meant that she had something he desperately needed. That was strange, as he could probably get a wand very easily, unless...

She tried to suppress her gasp of horror and prayed to herself that he did not notice as she realized what he was here for. Oh no. I need a plan. Now.

"Why do you even need a wand, anyway?" Great, smartass. She could have slapped herself.

"You´re the one who told me to ease off the Great Arts, remember?" Of course she remembered the bitter arguments and even more terrible silences afterwards. The rift that never healed until the end of the war. She bought herself out of the memories in time to hear him speak again.

"So, can I have my wand back?" Oh God. She tried another tactic.

"Well, you can use someone else´s, can´t you?" She said, attempting to sound reasonable and landing somewhere near hysterical instead. "I - I can get you another one, new untraceable charms and all."

He tilted his head, seeming to stare through her in that frightening way of his. "What´s wrong, Hermione? Did the Ministry take it? Bastards."

Hermione took a deep breath. She couldn´t lie to him. She just couldn´t.

"Harry, you´d better come with me."

********************

They made their way through the maze-like mansion´s seemingly endless corridors and staircases. Harry tried to memorize the way, out of sheer habit, but it was difficult. His mind kept him listening to the rain, which had started yet again, or looking at the strange patterns of the grounding charm work for the mansion when he should have been thinking about more important things.

Memories, carried by the droplets of rain, clouded the air.

Cold stone walls.

So much pain in such a small space.

Darkness, harsh strong lighting.

There is nothing for you here.

The scent of smoke and lavender filling the air.

Why this? Why you? Why now? You should know, Harry Potter.

Blinding red, pain audible. He doesn´t care.

Those who live to run away, live to die another day.

Green light.

This is the end.

Not all of them were unpleasant.

The Persian carpet hanging on the wall depicted the four founders of Hogwarts. He smiled when he realised that he looked slightly similar to Salazar Slytherin and that Rowena Ravenclaw had rather large front teeth.

Wait a minute..."Hermione, we´re going around in circles."

She flushed slightly. Hermione didn´t look a day older. It was like she had not aged at all since That Halloween. But then, he reflected, he hasn´t changed much either. At least in appearance.

"We´re going around because I don´t want to go through the Portraits Corridor. It´s way too depressing on the best of days."

"That´s true. Besides, I don´t think the Weasley family portraits would be too happy to see me." These thoughts are too horrible to contemplate, so he pushes them away.

Hermione has stopped to speak to him. She really shouldn´t bother. She knows he´s never going to change his mind about The Incident.

"That´s not true. None of them would blame you for anything that´s happened. And even if they do, you shouldn´t. None of it is your fault."

He smiled, rather humourlessly. "Don´t say that unless you believe it."

She sighed, exasperated, and turned to start walking again. "I do! You´ve got to believe that too."

"Give up, Hermione. You know you´ll never convince me."

At the end of one particular corridor she drew out her wand again. This time, Harry could see the magical barrier shielding what must have been a safe. To anyone else, it would have seemed no different to the hundreds of other passages in this mansion.

She tapped the wall in a strange pattern. A small portion of the wall slid open smoothly to reveal the compartment. Harry was impressed, so much so that he did not see her take out a small black box and mutter the trigger words to close the safe.

She presented the box to him, wordlessly. He tried to understand the terrible feeling in his mind, but it was too chaotic. He looked at Hermione enquiringly.

"What´s wrong?"

She shook her head, biting her lip. She did not want to speak. He took a deep breath and opened the box.

Immediately he could see why she had been reluctant to say anything earlier. His wand, the one possession of his he never lost, the one thing he had kept through capture, battles and so much death, was lying broken into pieces. His one constant companion, gone after all those years.

"I wonder now - yes, why not - unusual combination - holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

......

"Very powerful, that wand. But you knew that already, didn´t you, Mr Potter?"

......

"It´s just further proof of our connection - even you couldn´t deny that."

......

"It´s my right hand...I can´t use magic with it anymore."

"Oh no. Harry, what are you going to do?"

"Train myself to use my left hand, what else?"

......

"Avada Kedavra!"

The life of Harry Potter has never been fair or easy.

**************

Hermione winced internally at the pain she could see in Harry´s posture. It didn´t show on his face, but she had become an expert at reading his body language. She wished more than ever that she could have prevented it from happening. The wand had been almost like a living companion to him, reliable in the war years like nothing else was. He had trusted her to protect it when he couldn´t, and she had failed him.

I hope this isn´t turning into a habit.

"I´m sorry, Harry. It´s all my fault." She couldn´t bear to look at him in so much quiet pain any longer. She bowed her head. She had vowed never to hurt him again after all that he had already been through, but she kept breaking the promise. Warm hands landed on her shoulder, a startling difference to how cold his skin was during the war.

"Hermione." She tried to look up. Couldn´t. His tone, when he spoke this time, was soft but commanding, a voice that asked for obedience and was not prepared to accept `no´ as an answer.

"Hermione. Look at me." She couldn´t help it. She looked up. His eyes were calm as ever, and he was smiling. "It´s alright. I don´t blame you. I can get a wand another way, but I´ll need you to pull some strings for me. There are some things that I need to know. Then after that you can tell me who broke it. Can you do that for me?"

She nodded, staring into his bottomless eyes. How could she have said no?

"I´ll do my best. What do you want to know?"

***********

Earlier that day

Somewhere Outside the Baddock Residence

Lupin turned to Draco, frowning slightly. "Do you propose that we just walk in there and try to bluff our way around? And here I thought Gryffindors were the reckless ones."

Draco laughed, seemingly unmoved. Inside, he was more disturbed than he would have liked to admit. A few years ago, someone had uttered that exact sentence to him. A certain someone he was now trying to catch. Or rather, supposed to be trying to catch.

"No, you thought wrong. Gryffindors are the brainless ones." Sparing the idiots who were currently searching the Baddock residence a glance, he added, smirking, "Just like these drones. You recognise any of them from your school days?"

To his surprise, Lupin chuckled airily at the comment. "What makes you think I was a Gryffindor?"

Well. Draco blinked. He had really never thought of Lupin as anything other than a Gryffindor. Connections to James Potter aside, he had seemed to favour the dorks while he was teaching at Hogwarts.

"Don´t tell me, let me guess. Ravenclaw?"

Lupin´s grin vanished suddenly. "No." Draco´s eyes widened for a second before he regained control of his facial expressions. "You´re a Hufflepuff?"

Lupin shook his head, smiling ruefully. He raised an eyebrow at the stunned look on Draco´s face. "I´m a Slytherin. Is that so hard to believe?"

Now that he thought about it, no, it wasn´t. Lupin had had quite a reputation during the war. Fully justified, of course, by the number of Death Eaters he had put out of action. Almost as many as Potter, which is a very difficult accomplishment indeed, what with the Boy Wonder´s obsession with catching every single Death Eater.

That thought was quickly banished from his mind.

"While we´re on the topic of personal history, why this, Draco? I would have thought the Ministry to be low on your list of ideal employers."

Draco snorted. "They are. I need something to live on, don´t I?"

"The Malfoy estate´s earnings would have been more than enough to provide for you, if I´m not mistaken."

"Do you read newspapers at all?"

"I´d rather not know." The reply was flat, but the expression in the werewolf´s one remaining eye was strange, as was his evasiveness. Draco decided not to pursue the topic. He knew that they had to have this conversation some time in their acquaintance, so they might as well have it now.

"The Ministry took possession of all estate under the Malfoy name after the war. My father was in Azkaban and I was in a coma. No one around to protest, you see."

He knew his tone was bitter. He knew that his eyes, at that instant, would have scared a lesser man than Lupin. But he did not care. I have a right to be bitter, dammit. I have a right to hate.

"And then when my trial was over, I discovered that Potter had recommended me to the Ministry as possible Auror material. `Invaluable spying work in the war´ and all that. Merlin alone knows why he did it." Maybe he felt guilty for tearing the Manor apart in his search? He wondered, but did not voice it aloud. Some things were better kept hidden, to be revealed at a more advantageous time.

Lupin raised an eyebrow. "I do not see you simply concurring with Harry´s point of view."

Draco´s dry laugh grated on his own nerves. "Believe me, I tried to resist. But then, why would anyone else employ an ex-Death Eater? My allegiances were - are so muddled that not even former Death Eaters would employ me." Not that I expected them to. "It still annoys me, though." He shook his head. "Never mind. Let´s go."

"You know this better than I do, Draco. We´re not supposed to be here. You know the kind of suspicion we´d come under if we were reported."

Draco nodded with a smug grin. "That´s why it´s so helpful that there are so many idiots working for the Ministry now. It´d be easy to fool them."

If he was honest with himself, (he rarely was, seeing as he had always been a brilliant liar), he knew that what they were doing now defied rationalization. Given an assignment to catch Harry Potter and bring him to justice (trial him for a murder he didn´t commit), he decides to investigate the actual murders instead. Lupin had good reason to be reluctant. If this went to hell, they would both lose their jobs and maybe worse, considering the state of paranoia the Ministry seems to be suffering through right now.

Oh what the hell. You both know that you have your own reasons for doing this, just as he has his.

"I know you don´t trust me much, Lupin. But you´re going to take my word on this. I can get us in there. That´s all that matters, yes?"

Lupin sighed in resignation. So this is how it has to be. "You first, Mr Malfoy."

*********************

Despite his earlier reservations, Lupin was impressed. Malfoy had walked up to the bored looking Enforcer leaning against the garden fence and flat out demanded to be let in. He was a lot more jaded and tired than he was during his best days, but he could still commandeer quite an intimidating aura. Malfoy has never been subtle, not during school, and certainly not during the war, so he could never carefully manipulate people into doing things for him, as some others do. However, he did have a strong commanding personality, as members of that family are wont to. Some are made lead, some made to serve, as James´s father used to say. Those with weak force of will - he was aware that this was a particularly uncharitable thought - are easily coerced into any action with enough pressure.

"Are you saying that you won´t let us in to mourn the loss of a friend? What has the Ministry come to these days? They´re just as oppressive as the Dark Lord!"

Not that a certain amount of intelligence was unnecessary to go along with the personality. Malfoy was attacking a very weak point. Anyone who worked in the Ministry knew how eager the Minister was to avoid comparisons to Voldemort´s regime.

"I´ll report this to Longbottom. Mark my words, you´ll be packing your bags before long!" Lupin almost had to laugh at the indignation mustered up by Draco, both in his tone and on his face. He wondered if Malfoy enjoyed performance like this one.

The young Enforcer, who had sandy blond hair and looked about as green as a cabbage, was starting to panic. There was a hint of fear in his blue eyes. Just a hint, mind, but to someone trained to the emotion, the scent and feel of it, it was written in neon letters all over his face.

Poor boy. Lupin felt bad for him, if only for a moment. Then he walked up to join Draco. A little more pressure and he should buckle like a belt.

However, loud and brash intimidation was never his style. He was always the quiet one. Still waters run deep, as they say. Smiling inwardly to himself, he spoke.

"Mr Williams, is it? I can understand your concerns, but surely you see why Mr. Pritchard is so upset." Draco Malfoy´s blond hair is lighter than Pritchard´s, and he has a much more pleasant profile. However, no one really knows what a St. Mungo´s patient looks like, and no one wants to either. That, and the fact that Williams will be too scared of being fired to report this incident makes everything so much easier.

"And how are you related to the decreased, Mr Lupin?"

He decides to do the young man a kindness. Give him one grain of truth in this storm of lies.

"He was a student of mine. His death is a great loss to us."

******************

The initial rush of triumph faded quickly when he stepped into the house, the Enforcer at his side. The dampness in the air affected him more than he let on. His mind felt stuffed with cotton wool. It was not a particularly lovely sensation. The pleasant scent of drying ink and faded parchment was drowned out by the unique faint odour of recent deaths. Draco was more familiar with it than he wanted to be, by a long, long shot.

The bodies have already been removed, but death leaves his marks in more permanent places than mere mortal flesh, to the ruin of some.

Malcolm Baddock had remained alive for at least twenty minutes after the crime, according to the report. By the time his magical signature had faded completely, the murder could have been God knows where. If only someone had found him before he died...

Regrets never helped anyone.

It was done at midday. September the 27^th was cloudy.

The sun was drifting into the clouds, its last rays shining through the windows. There was a mild breeze making the curtains flutter. The wooden chairs were warmed by the sun.

The murders had been committed in the dining room. The Baddocks were found lying on the cold floor.

The family sat, eating dinner. The door bell rang. Malcolm got up to answer.

The Baddocks were not wealthy. They could not afford security charms. The killer´s method of subverting the wards was unknown.

... ...

The bloodstains have not been cleaned. The wooden chairs and dining table were antique items. Draco sensed a family of disgraced aristocracy, clinging to their roots like drowning men. He winced at the imagery.

Pain, screaming. Anger. Death.

There are more questions than answers. Draco is good at finding answers. Lupin spoke before he could.

"Have you managed to pick up a magical signature yet?" Williams blinked several times before he found a reply. Slow. Incompetent. Unworthy.

These thoughts are like poison in his veins. He blinks to make sure that he does not miss the reply.

"No luck, I´m afraid, sir. The killer used muggle methods, and we don´t have much experience dealing with them."

No luck.

Luck is for fools.

Indeed. We don´t need it, then, do we, Malfoy?

"What about the weapon used?"

Williams paled. The freckles on his long face stood out.

"As I understand it, sir, there were knives involved, as well as a muggle thing called a gun, but primarily..."

Draco frowned. A muggle thing called a gun. Really, couldn´t they get someone with some knowledge of muggle technology on this case? He bit down on his impatience.

"Yes?"

"The killer used the Baddocks´ wands." Williams looked sick.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lupin school his expression into kindly sympathy. "Shouldn´t you be able to pick up a signature from their wands then?"

"The wands were used...physically, sir. Along with some of the kitchen utensils." They both winced at that, Williams because he had seen the bodies firsthand, Draco because he had seen a gleaming silver fork out of the corner of his eye.

**************

Draco winced again, ten seconds later, from a bright flash of light. Uh oh. Tell me it´s not...

"Hello Mr Malfoy, Mr Lupin!" Oh damn, it is. Daily Prophet photographer Colin Creevey. Also known as my worst nightmare. After meeting Voldemort in a dark alley, that is.

Nine years on from his Hogwarts days, the ex-president of the Harry Potter fan club doesn´t seem to have changed a bit. Sure, he might have grown a little taller, but he still sounded the same.

Out of the corner of his eye, Draco could see Remus´s reaction. Or rather, his complete lack of. How the man kept such a good poker face when confronted with freaks of nature like this was beyond him.

"Hello Mr Creevey. Doing well at the Prophet, I hear?" To Draco´s complete amazement, Lupin had even managed to keep any hints of irritation or impatience out of his voice.

Creevey bounced. There was no other word for it. "Call me Colin, please! I´m great, Mr Lupin! Working for the Prophet is wonderful! I´d still do it even if they didn´t pay me a Knut! I´m just here today to snap a few photos for tomorrow´s Prophet." Still beaming, he turned to Draco, who resisted the urge to back away. "I´ve heard so much about your work as an Auror, Mr Malfoy! Do you think you can sit down with me for an interview later?" The puppy-dog eyes were truly frightening. Again, Draco refused to retreat on the grounds of Malfoy family honour and the fact that he´d never live it down from Lupin, or even worse, Potter.

"I´m duly flattered, Creevey. But if you want an interview, you´ll have to talk to my agent first." He watched as Williams came out of his shock or maybe Creevey-induced stupor. Damn. Better get ourselves out of here before he fully comes to his senses. Fuck you very much, Creevey.

Remus seemed to agree with his assessment of the situation. "Mr Williams, we all have business to attend to, so we´ll stop imposing on your valuable time." Turning to Creevey, he smiled. "Mr Creevey, would you like to come with us? I´d like to talk with you more. It has been a long time, hasn´t it?"

"Of course, Mr Lupin!" Creevey bounced some more. Draco felt the beginnings of a rather large headache. Lupin nodded at him and he began virtually dragging Creevey out by the arm.

"But, but... Aren´t you Mr. Pritchard?" The confused cries of Williams the young Enforcer followed them out the door.

**********

Two Hours Later

The Hanged Sphinx

Draco wanted to bang his head against a wall. Or kill someone. While he considered homicidal urges totally normal after being forced to spend two hours with Colin frigging Creevey of all people, he knew that neither Bode nor Longbottom would not have found it fully justified. So, instead of putting the good old Avada Kedavra on someone (preferably Creevey), he tried to get as drunk as possible.

Hey, if I´m going to have a headache anyway...at least it will help with the leg pain.

Old habits die hard, as they say.

The goblet was snatched out of his reach by Lupin, who almost appeared concerned. Draco raised his eyes to glare at the man.

"You´re the one who dragged Creevey along."

Lupin sighed in that irritatingly long-suffering way of his.

"I had to, you know that. Couldn´t have him blabbering to poor confused Mr Williams, could I?"

Draco´s forehead touched the cool surface of the table again. He knew all this, but he was never one to miss out on an opportunity to complain. He had an enormous headache, his leg was acting up again, and they had no real leads. "Speaking of Williams, what did you do to him?"

Remus raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think that I did anything?"

"I´m not stupid. No one can be that naturally thick. What did you do?" He had raised his head to glare again.

"Oh, just a simple Confundus Charm, when we were out of the range of the wards around the house. He should be back to normal in no time, and of course he won´t talk."

Draco grinned. This was new. He was beginning to have a completely different opinion of his former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

"So this isn´t a complete disaster. Yet. I´m so very pleased."

"So optimistic at such a young age, Draco." Remus shook his head, smiling ruefully. "So, what can you see from the murder site?"

"I was about to ask you that."

"I don´t usually do murder cases. You, on the other hand, have experience with them, if your File is any indication, Draco."

Draco laughed. Several of the pub´s drunken patrons turned to stare. Draco glared at said patrons, who turned away.

"Experience doing what? The murdering or the investigating?"

Remus met his cold eyes with an equally uncompromising one. "Both."

***********************

Around the same time

Granger-Weasley residence

Hermione sat back, satisfied. Her reputation as war heroine was still as useful (and as annoying) as ever. She had everything Harry had wanted to know. While she was busy talking to people and overriding red tape, he had taken a walk around the house. She had been afraid that he would get lost, but he waved off her concern with a smile, as always.

Her grin faded as she looked at the sheets of parchment that she now held in her hands. Harry had known exactly what to ask and the questions had yielded incredible answers. What she held in her hands now was a prime example of the corruption and weakness of the Ministry. That was not what concerned her. She had known those things for a long time. Her primary worry was the two names written in flowing script on the top piece of parchment.

"Stop frowning, you´ll get premature wrinkles." She looked up. He grinned down at her, seemingly perfectly normal in a way that he hadn´t been ever since the beginning of the war. A fact that made no sense whatsoever. Azkaban was supposed to drive people nutters, not help them back to sanity.

"Thank you for that reassuring statement." It was so natural to just fire back, it almost seemed like she was back at school again, sitting in the Gryffindor Common Room.

"You´re totally welcome." He replied, leaning down to read over her shoulder. Hermione held her breath. She didn´t have to wait long.

"They what?" It seemed that whatever else he was, Harry could still be surprised. And he didn´t sound very happy about it.

He blinked and read the names over again, as if making sure he wasn´t seeing things. Then he shook his head and laughed out loud. The laughter was genuine and infectious, so much so that she joined in. Still chuckling, he spoke again.

"Dear old Neville. That´s just like him, isn´t it." He shook his head again, still chuckling. Hermione handed the documents over. He skimmed through them quickly.

"Well, this should be interesting." The gleam in his eyes was reminiscent of the old days.

Mouse, meet Cat.

Only this time, he is the one hunted. Hermione felt a stab of pity for Remus and even Malfoy for a second. They were in for a rough time. Then she decided that Malfoy, being the git he is, probably deserved it.

"Can I keep these?" He asked, finally calm again.

"Sure." She turned and happened to look at the clock on the wall. Oh Fuck.

"Harry, if you don´t want Charlie to see you, you´d better leave now. He´s going to be home soon."

"Damn, I counted on him being away."

"He usually it, he´s just around to visit Molly."

He sighed. When he spoke again, his voice was dead serious. "Hermione."

"Yes." She replied cautiously.

"You do realise that anyone eavesdropping on our conversation will think that we are having an illicit affair, don´t you?"

She blinked. Then she threw a paperweight at him.

*************

Ten Minutes Later

The Hanged Sphinx

They had fallen into an uncomfortable silence after that little confrontation. Draco was nursing his third drink when a small owl almost landed in it.

"Damn incompetent things!" He opened the letter it carried and read it over, his expression darkening. Remus waited. He folded the piece of parchment up harder then was strictly necessary.

"What´s wrong now?"

"Bode has so kindly arranged a schedule for us." Draco spat bitterly. "We´re to go see that Chang woman tomorrow."

**************

At the same time

Granger-Weasley Residence

"Do take care, won´t you, Harry? I know you didn´t murder those people, but the Ministry is really out to get you this time."

Harry smiled. "Of course I will, Hermione. You take good care of yourself as well."

"Don´t you worry about a thing."