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Hunters and Prey | ||||||
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Category: Post-Hogwarts, Post-DH/AB Characters:Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, Ron Weasley Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, Romance Warnings: Mild Language, Sexual Situations, Violence Story is Complete Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 295 Summary: February 2000 Newly Qualified (in record time) Auror Harry Potter remains obsessed with “The List.” The ten people still wanted for their part in the Battle of Hogwarts. Their capture is essential. It will bring closure to the events of the past few years. Harry has set himself a target. He wants to see “The Last Death Eater” and the other nine captured before the second Anniversary of the battle. His attempts to meet his target will bring heartbreak, danger, and pain. Hitcount: Story Total: 112102; Chapter Total: 6293 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: Thanks to Amelíe for her comments, corrections and input. Please review. Constructive criticism is always gratefully received. |
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10. The Snare: Snakeslayer and Snakes Neville looked at himself in the mirror and frowned. He didn’t like wearing dress robes, he never had. He didn’t really like dances either. He couldn’t dance. Romilda had told him that often enough. Romilda–he had seen her only once since she’d ditched him on his nineteenth birthday. “Heartbreaker, unfaithful,” she’d called him in a rage of accusations on that unhappy birthday. The cause of her outrage was simple; Luna had given him a birthday kiss. It had been an, admittedly, passionate birthday kiss and it hadn’t helped that most of his friends had been cheering Luna on. Romilda always tried to kiss every male in the room, though Harry and Ron (or, more accurately, Ginny and Hermione) would never let her get close enough. Neville had always accepted this behaviour because Romilda told him that they were just “friendly kisses.” But he, apparently, wasn’t allowed to receive a kiss from one of his best and most eccentric friends. The months of tension and uncertainty he’d been feeling about his relationship with Romilda had culminated in a very public argument. Her attitude didn’t make sense, and he’d told her so. She had angrily chucked him, loudly and publicly telling him that it was over. He’d initially been devastated, lost and lonely. A month later, after a boozy night with Ron and Harry, he’d decided it had, in fact, been the best thing to happen to him. He was actually happier without her constantly telling him what to do, or subjecting him to one of her frequent public scoldings. He had never really wanted to go to all of those posh Ministry functions; that had always been her idea. His nights, however, had been a lot lonelier. Gran had been glad to see the back of Romilda. She had taken a dislike to her the day they first met. That dislike had turned into undisguised contempt when Romilda had refused to visit his parents at St. Mungos. Gran simply refused to speak to her, or about her, other than to say: “You can do much better, Neville.” After the split, Gran had suggested that “the nice blonde girl” might be good for him. Neville had been worried about that, because he’d initially thought that Gran meant Luna, who was nice but crazy. But she didn’t; she had been talking about Neville’s fellow trainee Auror, Susan Bones. Susan was nice, but very serious, and Neville really fancied another blonde–he had for years, he just didn’t know what to do about it. Then Romilda had turned up at Harry’s New Year party as the guest of Michael Corner. That was the only time Neville had seen his ex-girlfriend since their split. Michael had been rather nervous and Romilda had pointedly ignored Neville. But Michael had foolishly stood under some mistletoe and Luna had bravely risked the Nargles to kiss him very passionately too. Romilda had exploded, she’d called Michael the same names she’d called Neville and called Luna a lot worse. Neville had slipped out of the lounge and gone down to the kitchen to avoid the embarrassing scene. He’d been sitting all alone in the kitchen when Hannah walked in, right under some more mistletoe, and he moved forwards and she smiled and looked up, and… And now he was going to be late. He was taking Hannah to the Reception for the new Transylvanian Ambassador, their first public date, but instead of getting ready he’d been stupidly brooding about his ex-girlfriend. Harry rarely attended any of the Minister’s Receptions but he had intended to take Ginny to this one, so Neville had asked Hannah. Neville preferred to attend functions only when Harry did, because then no-one bothered him. When Harry wasn’t there he, Ron and Hermione were the ones at the centre of press attention. That was because they were the other three “Oh my!”s. Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom were the only three DA members, other than Harry, of course, to have been awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class, after the battle. He was Neville Longbottom, O.M.I., or as Ron said the first time he’d seen it written down, “Neville Longbottom, oh my!” Ron rather liked the attention. Neville, like Hermione, Harry and Ginny, did not. Romilda had loved it, and when they had been together she had dragged him to every reception and ball. He wondered if Hannah would be the same. He’d soon find out; he threw some Floo powder into his fire. ‘The Leaky Cauldron,’ he said clearly. Hannah was waiting for him when he stepped out of the flames. She was standing in the bar, nervously adjusting the plunging neckline of her vibrant red robes She looked into his eyes and her round face was suddenly all teeth and lips as she smiled nervously. His heart leapt. ‘Wow, You look se–s–’ he began and stopped, blushing … sexy … he’d been going to say, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the word. ‘S–stunning,’ he concluded sheepishly. ‘Glad you like it,’ She smiled shyly. ‘I’m going to a Ministerial Reception with the famous Neville “Snakeslayer” Longbottom, Order of Merlin First Class, Hero of Hogwarts. I thought I’d better make an effort.’ ‘Don’t,’ he protested. He suspected his face was now the same colour as her dress. ‘I–I don’t like that hero stuff and I don’t like “Snakeslayer” either. I just want to take my girlfriend out.’ ‘Girlfriend?’ she asked, sounding pleased. ‘Girlfriend,’ he confirmed. He suddenly panicked. ‘Have I never said that to you before?’ ‘No, not once since you first kissed me on New Year’s Eve,’ she told him. ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘I did ask you out, though, so it must’ve been obvious that I fancied you.’ ‘I suppose so.’ Hannah looked nervous too. She continued to fidget with her dcolletage, looking down at her bosom and not at him. ‘But we’ve never been …’ she said in a hesitant whisper ‘… out in public, Nev.’ It was true, Neville realised. Romilda had dragged him to all of the most fashionable bars, restaurants and parties. Hannah hadn’t dragged him anywhere. She had let him make the decisions, so he’d simply suggested that they do what he liked to do. They went for walks either in his part of Lancashire, her part of Cumbria, or around Muggle London. The only other places he’d ever taken her were Gran’s allotment garden and greenhouses, and St Mungo’s to visit his parents. He had been hiding Hannah from his friends since the New Year party. He’d even tried to keep his new relationship a secret from Harry and Ron. Hannah was nervous about the reception. He knew that she was a little insecure about her appearance. She certainly wasn’t slim, or petite, or even classically good looking. She was almost as tall as he was and very curvy, and her face seemed to be all cheeks, eyes and lips. But she was without doubt the most beautiful girl he knew. Nevertheless, she was right; they had never been seen in public together. She must have wondered if he was ashamed to be seen out with her. He’d been an idiot, again. ‘I haven’t been hiding you,’ he told her. ‘I suppose that I’ve been hiding myself. I really don’t like the fuss, you know?’ he said. He was anxiously fiddling with the invitation card. Hannah laughed, stepped up to him and took the gold edged and embossed card from his hand. ‘“Auror Neville Longbottom Order of Merlin, First Class, and Guest”,’ she read, smiling. ‘Are you taking me to the reception Auror Longbottom?’ she asked. ‘Or, should we both chicken out and have a quiet night in together?’ ‘A quiet night in with you is very tempting but you look fabulous in that dress, so you really should show it off,’ he replied. The smile which lit up Hannah’s face trapped the breath in his lungs and made his heart stop. She offered him the pot of Floo powder from the mantelpiece. He picked up a double portion and, as she linked her arm through his, he gathered his courage. ‘Mage’s Hall,’ he said and they stepped into the flickering green flames together. They were momentarily blinded by camera flashes when they emerged. ‘Who’s the blonde, Auror Longbottom?’ one of the reporters shouted as, arm in arm, they walked into the Hall. Neville didn’t answer, but simply strode through the throng. Handing his invitation to the reception witch, he told her the name of his guest and looked around the room. The tables were laid for the banquet. The cavernous room was filling quickly with the usual high-flyers, Ministry big-wigs and businessmen. He always felt lost. Hannah looked around in astonishment, ‘What are we supposed to do?’ she whispered. ‘Eat; then there’s music and dancing. We can just sit here,’ Neville told her. ‘I wouldn’t have thought that you would like this sort of thing,’ Hannah observed curiously. ‘I don’t, much, but I thought that you might,’ he told her. ‘I wanted to take you out somewhere other than a restaurant, and it always seems daft, taking you to a different pub.’ Hannah smiled, though she looked a little ill at ease. ‘I’ve done the wrong thing, haven’t I?’ he asked anxiously. ‘Don’t worry, Neville,’ she kissed his cheek; ‘I’m with you, I’m sure that I’ll enjoy myself. We can dance.’ ‘I can’t dance,’ he mumbled, worriedly. This was going to be a disaster! ‘Then I’ll have to teach you,’ she smiled. ‘Just relax, Neville.’ He found their seats. The placeholder to his left now read “Miss Hannah Abbott O.M.III.” From previous experience, he knew that her name would have magically appeared on the placeholder the moment he’d told the reception witch. He looked at the two seats next to him. To his left was “Miss Hermione J Granger O.M.I.” and next to her was “Auror Ronald B Weasley O.M.I.”. He looked at the seat next to Hannah and read “Head Auror Gawain Robards O.M.II (bar).” She would be sitting next to his boss. As they looked around the room, the seat next to Robards vanished, along with the place setting reading “Guest of Gawain Robards.” The chairs re-arranged themselves and another “Guest” label shuffled along the table. Next to it was the name “Auror Terry J Boot O.M.III.” The guest label flickered and changed and as he looked at it, Neville swore, something he rarely did. The label now read “Miss Romilda H Vane.” Hannah looked at his face, then at the card. ‘You can’t avoid her forever, you know,’ she said. ‘I know,’ he confirmed glumly. ‘We could leave, if you want,’ offered Hannah. We could run away, his thoughts suddenly became clear. I’ve been hiding from Romilda ever since we broke up. Why? I’m not a coward. During the early part of his last year at school, Ginny had told him that he was at his best when he was being a true Gryffindor, brave and honest. Now was the time for both, he decided. He spoke in a breathless rush. ‘Hannah … I’ve been running away from Romilda for far too long. I really don’t know what I ever saw in her. I’m here with you, not her. You’re beautiful and I’m crazy about you and I think that I’ve been hiding you away and I shouldn’t have been, and I wanted to try to impress you by taking you somewhere posh … and I’ve fancied you since we were at school–since before Romilda. I really wanted to ask you out after the Battle, but you were with…’ Suddenly, Hannah was kissing him, with more passion, more feeling than she had before. He responded enthusiastically. ‘Longbottom?’ Neville recognised the gruff voice of his boss. He and Hannah parted and Neville began to blush again. ‘Sir…’ he began, wondering what he could say to his boss. Hannah interrupted him. ‘Hello Robbie,’ she smiled at the Head of the Auror Office, ‘I only get one night off a week, don’t spoil it for me.’ ‘Hannah,’ exclaimed Gawain Robards in surprise, ‘you look lovelier than ever, my dear. If I were fifty years younger, I’d be giving Longbottom a fight.’ ‘You say that to all the girls, Robbie,’ Hannah teased, ‘you confuse youth with beauty.’ ‘Not in your case,’ Robards rumbled, ‘eh, Longbottom?’ ‘No, Sir, but…’ began Neville in confusion. ‘Double Firewhisky and a goblet of mead, every night, that’s Granddad Robbie. He never told me what he did for a living. When he’s in the pub, he only ever talks about his grandchildren.’ Hannah smiled mischievously and added, ‘I hope you’re looking after my Neville, Robbie, you don’t want to fall out with your barmaid.’ ‘Merlin’s beard, lass, I’m going to have to watch myself from now on, aren’t I?’ Robards laughed. It was a throaty bass rumble. Neville was astonished; he’d never heard his boss laugh before. The man seemed almost human. Hannah and Robards were soon talking like old friends and Neville found himself joining in. The three were laughing and joking together when Terry and Romilda arrived. Terry looked worried, Romilda furious. ‘Boot,’ Robards nodded formally before turning his back on Romilda and continuing to tell Hannah and Neville about the anticipated arrival of his first great-grandchild. His story was interrupted by the next arrival. ‘Oops!’ Hermione Granger staggered and fell against Neville. He moved to steady her and she fell into his arms. ‘Hello, lovely Neville,’ she slurred, ‘you seem to be enjoining … I mean enjoying … yourself–good for you. Just ignore the sour-faced slapper and enjoy yourself with Hannah. She’s fancied the arse off you for years, you know. Haven’t you, Hannah?’ Neville was astonished, Hannah embarrassed, and Romilda furious. ‘What did you call me?’ Romilda shrieked, while Ron desperately tried to shush his girlfriend. ‘Can’t remember,’ said Hermione happily, ‘something truthful, I expect. And shtop sussing me Ron, I’m here to have a good time.’ ‘You’re drunk!’ said Romilda angrily. ‘And you’re ugly,’ said Hermione. ‘But tomorrow I’ll be sober…’ She dissolved into peals of laughter. ‘Let’s go home, Hermione,’ Ron suggested desperately. ‘We’ve just got here! I wanna party, I wanna dance!’ Hermione giggled. ‘Pumpkin juice,’ guessed Neville. Ron nodded in helpless horror. ‘Miss Granger…’ Robards began. ‘It’s Old Grumpy! Hello, Old Grumpy,’ said Hermione leaning forwards precariously to get closer to her boyfriend’s boss. Ron turned crimson. ‘D’you know…’ Hermione began waving a finger in Gawain Robards’ face. ‘Shut up, Hermione, please,’ said Ron desperately. ‘Don’t you tell me what to do, Ronald Weal-weal-Weaserley I’m here to ‘ave a goodtime.’ Hermione’s voice rose to an eardrum-shattering squeal as she staggered back around and thrust her admonishing finger under Ron’s nose. The hall had fallen silent as everyone turned to watch the free show. ‘You’ve had enough, Hermione,’ said Hannah. ‘You’d better let Ron take you home before you do something that you’ll really regret.’ ‘Oh, get stuffed, fatty,’ Hermione said. ‘If I had to guess, Ron,’ Hannah said, matter-of-factly ignoring the insult. ‘I’d have expected Hermione to be a maudlin drunk, not an obnoxious and mouthy one. Do you think it could be a side-effect of the pumpkin juice?’ ‘Oi, I’m right next to you, I can hear you, you know,’ shrieked Hermione, poking Hannah in the stomach. Ron looked terrified, ‘Sorry, Hannah,’ he began. ‘I wanna drink!’ Hermione shouted. Neville could now feel every eye in the hall staring. ‘Here,’ Hannah said, opening her handbag and pulling out a small hip flask. Hermione snatched it, opened it and gulped down the contents. She immediately turned green. ‘What was that,’ she squawked, holding her stomach and doubling over in pain. ‘Sober-up potion, it’s good for bringing recalcitrant customers to their senses,’ Hannah was horrified by Hermione’s reaction. ‘It shouldn’t cause any pain.’ Hermione gasped, her stomach gave an unpleasant rumble. Ron grabbed his girlfriend’s shoulders and tried to hold her upright. Hermione lurched, twisted and gave a gasp of pain before puking all over Gawain Robards and collapsing in a faint. ‘Take her home,’ Hannah ordered Ron, ‘and keep a close eye on her. You’ll need to watch her to make sure that she doesn’t choke. If she wants anything to drink, give her water, black coffee or black tea, nothing else.’ ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry,’ was all Ron could stammer as he lifted his feebly groaning girlfriend into his arms. ‘Let me sort your robes out for you, Robbie,’ offered Hannah. But it was too late. Angry black clouds had gathered on Robards’ face and with lightning flashing from his eyes and a voice like thunder, he dismissed Hannah’s offer and stormed furiously from the room. Robards’ much photographed departure was followed by Ron and Hermione’s. Ron carried his unconscious girlfriend from the still silent and watching hall and followed his boss through the barrage of cameras. ‘Neville,’ Hannah said firmly, ‘Ron got Hermione drunk, you behaved wonderfully and with dignity. You didn’t let Romilda bully you, and you can dance. There is nothing for you to apologise for. After a really bad start, that turned out to be a surprisingly enjoyable evening. But if you say “sorry” to me once more, I’m going to ask you to leave my room.’ Neville gulped, he’d been expecting her to ask him to leave since the moment they arrived, half an hour ago. Hannah’s room at the Leaky Cauldron was large, but sparsely furnished. There was one comfortable armchair, a small table, a wardrobe and a large bed. Neville, at Hannah’s insistence, was sitting in the chair. Hannah sat on a sheepskin rug on the floor, leaning back against his legs and watching the fire flickering in the grate. They sat in silence for a few moments, thinking about dancing and dinner. Neville admired the way her golden blonde hair shone in the flickering firelight. ‘I’ve never seen a reaction like that to a sober-up potion,’ Hannah observed. ‘But I’ve never tried it on alcoholic pumpkin juice before.’ ‘Ron was talking about looking into the company, Mark D’Arque Unlimited. I don’t expect that he’ll be in the office tomorrow, but I’ll get started on an investigation, if you think that it’s a good idea.’ ‘Me?’ Hannah gave a low, dismissive, laugh, ‘I’m just a silly barmaid without a NEWT to her name. You’re an Auror! You shouldn’t even be talking about possible Auror operations to me.’ ‘Harry tells Ginny everything,’ Neville told her, ‘and Hermione always knows what we’re doing, too, because Ron tells her. So there’s no reason why I shouldn’t tell my girlfriend everything.’ ‘Did you…’ Hannah started, then stopped ‘… forget it, none of my business.’ ‘Did I tell Romilda? No.’ said Neville. ‘I found out very quickly that she was much too fond of talking to the press. It was her who told the Prophet about the first DA reunion party.’ ‘She’ll tell them about Hermione, won’t she?’ Hannah asked. ‘Definitely,’ Neville confirmed. ‘And she’ll embellish it. Poor Hermione, Ron will be in trouble.’ ‘He deserves it. I’ve never ever actually seen Hermione drunk before, she’s always so in control. I didn’t think that she would be so blunt and rude. She certainly said a few things which she should have kept to herself.’ Have you …’ he stopped. ‘Never mind.’ ‘Have I really fancied you since school?’ Hannah asked and Neville nodded, blushing. Hannah blushed as well, turned away from him, and stared into the fire. She looked at the flickering flames for at least a minute before silently nodding. Neither of them spoke for some time. Neville gently grasped her shoulders and pushed her forwards, off his legs. He slipped from the chair and lowered himself down to sit on the floor beside her, hip to hip. Placing one arm over her shoulder, he slid the other across her stomach and pulled her close. Leaning in, he kissed her slowly and tenderly. She twisted to better respond, overbalanced, and fell backwards onto the rug. Neville tried to cushion her fall by catching her head before it hit the floor. He succeeded, but the back of his hand took the force of the fall and he too overbalanced. His landing, however, was much softer. He hastily pulled his face from Hannah’s cleavage. ‘Sor…’ he began to stammer an apology, saw Hannah’s face and halted mid-word. ‘If I say sorry again you’ll make me leave,’ he remembered. Hannah nodded. He pulled his hand from under her head and flexed his fingers. ‘Did it hurt when I landed on your hand?’ she asked as she took it and gently kissed his fingers. ‘Nothing broken, thanks,’ said Neville. A sudden sense of mischief took over. ‘Did it hurt, when I landed on your…’ She burst out laughing and pulled him down for another kiss. The bar of the Leaky Cauldron was deserted. It felt unnatural and desolate. A room meant to be full, bustling and noisy was silent, empty and echoing. The stale air was laden with the lingering smell of last night’s alcohol. ‘I’ve been thinking about last night.’ Neville told Hannah quietly as they ate a late breakfast in a dim recess in the bar. Hannah blushed crimson, making Neville blush in turn. ‘About Hermione,’ Neville said hastily. Hannah raised an eyebrow. ‘About what happened at the Reception ... I’ve been thinking about us and last night, too, it’s just that…’ Neville realised that he was beginning to babble, so stopped. ‘Neville, you’re worried about Ron and Hermione and you’re wondering what to do about the pumpkin juice people, right?’ Hannah interrupted. Neville nodded. ‘Have you tested the stuff?’ she asked. ‘No. Ron bought some, but he took it home with him. I’ve no idea how much of it Hermione drank.’ ‘We should have a few bottles left here. I’ll see if we can find it for you once we’ve finished breakfast. What will you do with it?’ she asked. ‘I’ll give it to our potions expert, Edmund Byers, as soon as I get into the office.’ ‘Byers? I don’t think I know him,’ said Hannah. ‘He mustn’t visit the Cauldron.’ ‘I don’t suppose he does. He’s a grumpy old soul, but good with potions–so good that I’m not sure how long he’ll be will be with us. Professor Slughorn wants to retire, again, so Headmistress McGonagall has asked Byers if he’d be interested in the job.’ ‘McGonagall will be going soon, too, I’d have thought’ Hannah observed as Neville scraped up the last of the egg yolk from his plate. ‘I’ll find those bottles for you now, Nev, I’ll be back in a few minutes. What time do you need to be at work?’ ‘Almost two hours ago,’ Neville confessed. Hannah stood, walked around the table and hugged him tightly, pulling his head into her chest and kissing the top of his head. ‘I won’t be long,’ she said when she released him. And, true to her word, she was back within a few minutes carrying three bottles of the pumpkin juice, which she placed on the table. When she returned Neville was gloomily reading the Daily Prophet. ‘What does it say?’ Hannah asked. ‘That Hermione behaved disgracefully, insulting attractive young witch Romilda Vane. Whose current beau, readers will be interested to know, is Hogwarts’ hero, the dashing Terry Boot.’ ‘Dashing?’ Hannah queried. ‘Terry would be the first to admit that not even a Prophet reporter could stretch to calling him “handsome,”’ Neville smiled. ‘The paper also says that Auror Ron Weasley is incapable of controlling his wild Muggle-born girlfriend, that Head Auror Robards will be disciplining his young staff, and that several of their proposed “innovations” will be looked at again in light of their behaviour. It also says that … that Auror “Snakeslayer” Longbottom, unable to get a date, was reduced to begging a plain-featured barmaid to attend the ball with him,’ said Neville. Hannah shrank visibly. Neville smiled encouragingly at her. ‘That spiteful rubbish is direct from Romilda, I’m sure. Unfortunately for the leader writer, he didn’t check with the gossip columnist.’ He opened the paper to another page, and showed it to Hannah. There, under the headline “Snakeslayer and Sensational” there was a photograph of him and Hannah dancing. ‘In this article, my new girlfriend is described as sensational, stunning and sensuous,’ he smiled. ‘I think the writer likes alliteration, although she missed sexy, for some reason.’ ‘Don’t,’ said Hannah. ‘I’m not…’ ‘I’ll be the judge of that,’ he told her. He pulled the page containing the gossip column from the paper and handed it to Hannah. He then flipped back to the headlines and waved the front page at her. ‘But this sort of thing is the reason I don’t usually go to these Balls. I hate being in the papers and it’s usually biased and wrong.’ ‘If we get more trade, it might be worth it,’ Hannah said thoughtfully. She smiled as she looked at the photograph of them dancing. ‘I told you that you could dance, Neville. But you’d better go to work, you’re in trouble and you’re late. Don’t forget the bottles.’ Neville picked one from the table and examined it carefully. There’s no address on the label,’ he observed. ‘Yes, I’d noticed that. They operate an owl-order system, just like the twins did during the war. We send an order by owl and then we pay the delivery people when they arrive with the goods. They operate using cash sales only, too. That is unusual. Tom does most of his business with our major suppliers through Gringotts. The goblins simply transfer cash from one account to another. But this company doesn’t seem to have an account at Gringotts.’ ‘So, you send an owl and…’ Neville asked. ‘And we get a reply telling us when the stuff will be delivered, an invoice, and we’re expected to have the cash ready for them when they arrive,’ said Hannah. ‘Isn’t that a bit suspicious?’ Neville inquired. Hannah kissed his cheek. ‘My poor innocent, Neville. This is the bar-trade. Most of our small suppliers work on a cash-in-hand basis. Why put things through the books? It simply makes the Ministry interested.’ Neville pulled a face and Hannah laughed. ‘Oh, Neville, I’ve shocked you! Mark D’Arque, or whatever the company is called, are probably fiddling their tax returns. But this is nothing, you’d be horrified at the things that went on during the war.’ Behind her, a clock chimed. ‘Now you are two hours late for work. I don’t want you to leave, but you should. When will I…’ ‘When are you next free, Hannah? I’ve got a day off tomorrow.’ Neville interrupted as he picked up the bottles and prepared to leave. ‘I’m on the evening shift tomorrow. I’ll need to be back here for seven, but we could meet for breakfast and have a day together.’ ‘Great, we’ll do that, what time?’ ‘Nine o’clock, I’ll provide the breakfast.’ ‘Thanks, I love you, Hannah.’ ‘And I love you, Neville.’ They kissed. Neville strode from the pub with a spring in his step. Despite Ron’s problems, he felt better than he had for weeks. He headed for the Ministry full of hope. When Neville finally reached his desk, he discovered that Ron hadn’t arrived. The office gossip was that Robards had received a message from Ron, who was claiming that he was ill. Neville handed the bottles of pumpkin juice over to Byers and created a file for the new case. ‘I’ve spent the morning trying to check up on this company, Mark D’Arque,’ Neville told his supervisor, Williamson, when questioned about his lateness. ‘Waste of time!’ said Williamson. ‘Are you ordering me not to pursue it?’ Neville asked. Williamson gave an indifferent shrug, but that was Williamson. If it came to nothing, then Williamson would say “I told you it was a waste of time.” If it proved important, it would be “Look what my trainee has found.” Neville shrugged in reply and simply got on with his work. It was not until the fourth day of Ron’s “sickness” that Neville finally received the results of the tests carried out by Auror Edmund Byers. He immediately Apparated to Grimmauld Place and knocked on the door. Kreacher answered and bowed low. ‘A scion of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Longbottom is always welcome at the House of Potter,’ said Kreacher, his nose almost touching the ground as he retained his bow. ‘However, I regret to say that my Master…’ ‘I’m here to see Ron, Kreacher, not Harry,’ said Neville. ‘Master Ronald is unavailable…’ Kreacher began. Knowing the house-elf’s loyalties, Neville interrupted. ‘Is he here?’ he asked the elf. ‘Master Ronald is unavailable…’ Kreacher repeated. ‘I don’t care whether or not he’s “available,” Kreacher. Please answer my question. Is he here?’ ‘Yes,’ Kreacher admitted reluctantly. Neville strode past the elf and into the hallway. ‘RON!’ he bellowed. There was silence. ‘Ron, you idiot, this is important, it’s about Hermione!’ Neville heard a door open on an upper floor and looked up to see Ron peering down from the second floor balcony. He looked terrible. His eyes were bloodshot and his unkempt ginger beard showed that he hadn’t shaved for days, probably not since the Reception. ‘Have you spoken to her? What did she say?’ Ron asked nervously. ‘Haven’t you?’ said Neville in surprise. ‘She’s taken the week off, she’s on holiday. If you weren’t here, I was going to try her flat.’ ‘You can’t, I’ve tried to visit her. She’s put the flat under the Fidelius Charm. I’ve been to her parents’ house, too, but they told me that she wasn’t there and that she hadn’t been in touch. So what do you want?’ ‘I got some of that pumpkin juice from Hannah and I’ve had it tested,’ Neville told him. ‘And?’ Ron asked urgently. ‘I’m not shouting up the stairs, Ron. I’ll wait for you in the kitchen. Get dressed and get tidied up, I need you back at work.’ With that, Neville marched through the door and down into the basement kitchen. He was drinking tea and eating a ginger biscuit when Ron arrived ten minutes later. He was in his Auror uniform, and clean shaven, but he was dripping blood from a cut on his chin. ‘Shaved in a rush,’ he explained as Neville staunched the blood with a healing spell. ‘What’s up? Is Hermione okay? Is Harry okay?’ ‘Harry’s still looking, he hasn’t found the place yet and no one has seen Hermione, or you, since the ball. I thought that you must be together, working things out,’ admitted Neville. ‘I wish we were,’ Ron announced sadly, ‘I haven’t felt this bad since … since I walked out on Harry when we were on the run. In fact, this is worse, because then I could put part of the blame on Tom Riddle because of that bloody locket. This time, it was just me being an idiot.’ ‘Not completely, the pumpkin juice has more than just alcohol in it; there’s an alcohol strengthening potion also. It seems to quadruple the strength of any other booze you drink. Butterbeer has almost no alcohol in it. But you could get really drunk, even on Butterbeer, if you drank two or three pumpkin juices first. There’s something else in it, too, something Byers hasn’t been able to identify yet. He’s not certain what it is, but I’ve persuaded him to classify it as possible Dark Magic, that way we keep control of the case. I’ve started an investigation of Mark D’Arque Unlimited, and as Harry is still undercover, I need my other partner back at work.’ ‘Robards will kill me.’ ‘He should and so should Hermione, but they can’t both do it, and it turns out that “Robbie” Robards is a regular at the Cauldron and Hannah is his favourite barm… trainee publican. She’s been working on him.’ ‘I doubt it, Hermione was horrible to her, and it’s my fault. I saw the way Hannah looked at me; she thinks I’m an idiot,’ muttered Ron. ‘That’s because you are an idiot, Ron, at least some of the time. But we all are! Robards will give you a reprimand and probably fine you, but he won’t sack you. I know he won’t, because Hannah has talked to him about it,’ Neville told him. ‘But why would Hannah help me?’ ‘Because I asked her to, Ron,’ said Neville. ‘Thanks, mate, I owe you one,’ said Ron. ‘You owe Hannah, not me, now let’s go to work,’ Neville told him. The office fell silent when Neville walked in with Ron. Every Auror watched as Ron walked up to Robards’ office, knocked on the door and walked in. He was there for an hour. Neville was talking to their fellow trainees, Terry and Susan, when Ron finally emerged, pale and shaking. ‘Well?’ Neville asked. ‘I’ve been docked a week’s pay, plus the last four days, plus a formal reprimand and he’s put me on a final warning,’ Ron confessed glumly. ‘Any more nonsense from you, Weasley, and you’re out,’ Ron growled in a passable imitation of Robards’ deep voice. ‘Will you never learn, Ron?’ said Susan severely, narrowing her fine blonde brows. ‘It was a joke,’ Ron protested. ‘It was a bit of fun, that’s all.’ ‘No one laughed then, and no one’s laughing now,’ observed Susan, pursing her thin lips. The flaxen-haired girl wore her hair in a tight bun and that, combined with her severe expression, made her look years older than her friends. ‘Least of all me, Susan,’ Ron admitted. ‘I don’t suppose that you’ve heard from Hermione, have you?’ ‘No, but I saw Padma in the Department of Mysteries yesterday and she said that Parvati said that Hermione has been to see Lavender,’ Susan told him. ‘Oh, Merlin, I’m doomed,’ groaned Ron. ‘I need to see her, to explain.’ ‘If she’s hidden her flat, then you can’t, so you might as well help me. Anyway, you didn’t know the effect it would have, Ron,’ Neville reminded him. ‘Let’s see if we can track these people down.’ The following Monday, the Ministry was buzzing with the news that Hermione had returned to work. The second he found out, Ron was on his feet and dashing for the office door. He was halted by a shout from his boss. ‘Weasley,’ Robards called, waving an interdepartmental memo. ‘I have a message here from Mr Jenkins, Head of the Being Division in Magical Creatures. Miss Granger is extremely busy and you are not to interfere with her work or visit her in her office. Not until Jenkins rescinds this request. If you do, both you and she will be disciplined. For you, that means that you’re out of a job and Granger will lose any prospect of promotion.’ Neville watched his suddenly sad and confused friend slump despondently. ‘You’re already in Hermione’s bad books, Ron,’ Neville reminded him. ‘Do you think she’d thank you if you got the sack and she lost an opportunity for promotion?’ Ron sat back down in his seat, stone-faced. He glowered grimly. ‘Let’s catch these gits,’ said Ron. He stared vindictively at the empty pumpkin juice bottle on his desk before picking up the crumpled brochure he’d shown Harry eleven days earlier. Ron worked like a man possessed, his energies diverted towards investigating the company he was now holding responsible for his misfortune. Over the next few weeks, Neville kept a very close eye on his friend. Ron was obsessed and not just with the case. Two, three or even four times a day he sent a memo to Hermione. He could not send an owl as she had magically hidden her flat from everyone. Every day he sent flowers to her office, too. But despite his efforts, Hermione did not respond. Neville knew that his friend had even taken to hanging around the Ministry entrance, but somehow Hermione always eluded him. Weeks of investigation bore very little fruit. Mark D’Arque Unlimited had no registered office and no address of any kind. The company seemed to be making a reasonable amount of money, all in cash sales. Their income came from a number of joke items as well as from the pumpkin juice. Surprisingly, although the majority of the bottles Ron and Neville bought in pubs up and down the land contained the alcohol strengthening potion, very few contained the other mysterious potion. Byers had been unable to identify the mystery potion. He had finally concluded that it was inactive, that it required an additional ingredient, or ingredients, before it would work. He had tried mixing it with other drinks, but had so far failed to activate it. Neville and Ron had not even been able to identify the delivery men. The descriptions of the men who took the cash and supplied the pumpkin juice varied wildly. It was as if the company employed different people for every delivery. Neville was beginning to lose hope of getting anywhere. On the Wednesday two weeks after Ron’s birthday, Neville was lying on Hannah’s bed discussing the case with his girlfriend and wondering what to do next. Ron was no longer much help. The longer he was out of contact with Hermione, the more distracted and depressed he became. Not only had Hermione still not returned any of his messages, but everyone now knew that she’d been going out with her boss, Jenkins. Neville had offered to visit Hermione to act as an intermediary, but Ron stubbornly refused. ‘I got myself into this mess. I need to get myself out,’ said Ron pig-headedly. Were it not for the fact that both Jenkins and Hermione had gone back to France on Ministry business, Neville was certain that Ron would have ignored Robards’ warning and gone to see her. The fact that they were in France together was driving Ron to distraction. That, coupled with his frustration at the lack of progress on the case, meant that Ron was becoming more irritable and moody with every passing day. Neville was immensely grateful that he had someone else to talk to about the case. He was spending every spare moment at the Leaky Cauldron. As they lay on Hannah’s bed, he unburdened himself with his problems. She was a good listener; she claimed that it was an essential part of her job. ‘Do you want me to put in an order?’ Hannah asked him when he’d finished. Neville looked at his girlfriend blankly for a second, and then realised what she was suggesting. He kissed her. ‘You are a genius, a beautiful genius,’ he told her, pulling her into a tight embrace. Two days later, Neville was alone in the office when an internal memo arrived. It bore the message: Yours, I think! It was sent to me in error. Neville Longstaffe, Magical Games and Sports. Neville looked at the slip of parchment attached to the memo. It was from Hannah and his name was written clearly on it: “Delivery 11:00 a.m. today” was all it said. Neville looked at his watch, it was already eleven! Cursing the inefficiency of the Ministry bureaucracy, he dashed down to the Atrium, drew his wand, said ‘Leaky Cauldron’ and stepped into the fireplace. Hannah was arguing with two men when Neville stepped from the fireplace, wand in hand. One of the men was short and unshaven; the other was tall and well groomed. Neville did not recognise either of them, but as he stepped out from the fireplace and approached, the tall and well groomed man stared in shocked recognition. The tall man swore vilely and panicked. He threw the crate he was carrying at Hannah, causing her to stagger backwards and stumble against the bar. ‘The Abbot cow’s bin delayin’ us. It’s a trap, c’mon Bletchley,’ the taller man yelled at his companion. The unshaven man raised his wand and silently blasted the ceiling above Hannah. |
| Reviews 295 |
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