“Harry, what do you think she meant?” Hermione sat there staring at him, furiously turning an apple in her hand.
Waking him up from a trance, Harry closed his slightly gaping mouth and looked down at the brown eyed girl.
“I dunno ‘Mione. The barmy maid probably had too many trips to the pub, I’d bet. Nothing to worry about, but I know you.” Winking at her, Harry poked around in his black leather bag and pulled out his lunch.
The two finished their meal in silence and Harry wondered if life could ever be normal for the golden trio. It had taken the wizarding world about a year to let Harry live a life as close to anonymity as he could get – which meant no longer gracing the pages of the Daily Prophet every day. These days though, almost two years after he left Hogwarts, his life had calmed down but the expectations were still overwhelmingly high. Hermione and Ron’s spot light had not shone nearly as long, but they, too, still had hundreds of adoring fans waiting around most corners. Something about this encounter was not sitting right with Harry, however. Primarily, due to the fact the old hags words sounded so much like a …
“A prophecy of me killing someone? You have GOT to be kidding me. Why would someone even be prophesizing about MY life?” Hermione grumbled as she was again lying on the blanket looking up at the sky. “That just proves she was off her trolley!”
Saying nothing, Harry watched the wind lightly play with the wisps of hair that had fallen out of Hermione’s pony tail. If the old hag was speaking the truth, Hermione had three guys on her plate – which she already knew, and she could end up being a murderer? Harry couldn’t help but feel anxious at the thought of this. He would just have to keep a closer eye on her. A concept that was not so unpleasant.
***
After attempting multiple times to concentrate on the stacks of parchment in front of her, Hermione grabbed her notebook from a desk drawer and began scribbling down what she remembered from lunch.
I am giving too much time to this bag lady, she growled in her thoughts. Black, white, red? What does that have to do with the rest of the riddle? Slamming down the notebook on the corner of her desk, Hermione sighed and went back to the parchment.
“Something got you all bothered Granger?” mocked Malfoy from beside her. Coffee in hand, the white blonde was peering down at the mess she had made of her desk. “You know we are allowed to converse on the cases if you are having so many issues. I promise the black plague I contracted back in school isn’t too contagious.”
Hermione fidgeted in her seat. Being in close proximity with Malfoy made her quite nervous. Snatching her wand out of her pocket, she flew up and pointed it at the young man’s chest.
“I am fine Malfoy. Let me be. Now!” Hermione yelled a little louder then she had intended as all the desks in the room were now occupied. The man’s hands with the coffee were now above his head and he wore a startled expression.
“All right, all right,” Malfoy backed up a foot and stopped. He lowered his hands and continued to watch her. Hermione’s breath quickened. It was the first time she had taken a good look at her coworker in a long while. Dressed all in white, his pale skin and hair blended in with his outfit. He had matured during the last years of Hogwarts and now towered over her with a lean but muscular build. Malfoy’s silvery grey eyes studied her as she stood there glaring at him.
“Granger.” Adjusting his tie, he lowered his head slightly to her and then turned to retreat to his desk.
“Who does he think he is, God?” Hermione mumbled and shook her head trying to slow her pulse. Glancing over at the notebook, she reviewed the lunch encounter again. Thrice the gentlemen you will know, one will expire by your blow. As long as the secret is not kept, a lover, friend, and enemy will be set. So what if the secret is kept? I feel like nothing ties together!
Sitting back in her chair, Hermione furrowed her eyebrows and crossed her arms. Usually she had no problems solving riddles…. as long as they weren’t about her.
Looking at her watch, she convinced herself that she deserved an early day with all the over time she had been putting in. Leaving the room to head towards the Floo Network, Hermione failed to notice the blonde man making his way back to her desk.
Picking up the open notebook Malfoy read what the brunette had scrawled on the paper. Repositioning himself on her desk, his face drew into a frown. Where did she get this prophecy from? This simply wasn’t going to do.
***
Hermione went straight from the fireplace to the black leather couch when she arrived at her flat in a muggle part of London. Grabbing a burgundy throw blanket, she covered herself awaiting some much needed sleep. Ron would be stopping by after six, when he got off of his 36 hr shift at Azkaban, and she couldn’t be happier.
Ron, an auror like Harry, had received a liaison position at the prison, in which he over saw the guards and the overall workings of Azkaban. With the Ministry no longer using Dementors, the Auror liaisons worked extremely long hours and even slept in newly fashioned quarters off one of the wings. So far there had been no break outs, and the wizarding world was quite pleased.
As far as Ron, Hermione, and Harry were concerned, training for their positions the year after the war had not allowed the friends to see each other very much. During that time, Hermione was either attending trials of death eaters or shadowing co workers for her new position. Besides returning to her flat to sleep, she had been living at the ministry. The boys, on the other hand, had been completing their training in many different countries, learning how to sleep, eat, and breathe being an auror. After the thirteen months of training had ceased, however, the three friends picked up where they had left off. Harry had, of course, gotten back together with Ginny and Hermione was hoping that a certain red head still fancied her.
“Wake up.”
“Ron??” Her voice cracked, barely above a whisper. She waited for a response.
Hermione opened her eyes quickly to the sound, but found the room dimly lit. Frantically looking around, she barely made out a figure from the kitchen to her right. Drawing her wand she called out,
“Lumos!”
A well built freckle faced man with close cut red hair, dressed in all black, moved towards her with a small smile on his face.
“You git! You scared the hell out of me! Why didn’t you say anything??”
Sitting down next to her on the couch, Ron shrugged his shoulders. “Just trying to surprise you I guess. I apparated to the hall and got something to eat from your kitchen. I am starving!”
Turning on the light over head, via a switch behind her, she took a good long look at the handsome ginger.
“I don’t know what it is with you and my dad fancying muggle appliances,” he continued and gave her his big goofy smile.
“And for the millionth time your dad works in The Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office and my parents were muggles.” Hermione stuck her tongue out at him. “So how was the shift? You look exhausted!”
“Knackered and famished! One of the inmates claimed ill and Lav - one of the healers, wanted me to go with her to make sure nothing dodgy was going on, we barely got a lick of sleep!”
“Lavender Brown works with you?!?” Hermione shrieked, catching Ron off guard.
“I thought I told you that already ‘Mione. After Fenrir got to her during the war, she spent a good while in the infirmary and decided to become a Healer. I don’t see her that much, but yes, she does work at Azkaban.” Ron finished frowning.
Hermione relaxed a bit and looked at her watch. “Goodness! It is almost eight! We were supposed to meet Harry at the three broomsticks half an hour ago!”
“I owled Harry when I got here. He said he wanted to avoid the wizarding crowd because of what happened ‘today’, so we are going to go to some muggle café near here. He wouldn’t tell me anything about today, though, told me to ask you.”
“Maybe after we get back, but I am starving as well,” she countered, hoping to change the topic.
“All right. I’ll lead the way.” Ron gave his trademark smile and marched out the door. Grabbing Hermione’s hand clumsily, they made their way a few blocks down the street to a little café which she loved to frequent. She loved its charm. Hermione, blushing from the hand holding, saw Harry standing across the street waiting for them.
Tapping his foot lightly, Harry looked peeved about something.
“It’s quite crowded in there mate, had a table but gave it up when I wasn’t sure if you two would show.” Scowling at each other, and not looking at Hermione, Harry checked his watch again and Ron looked at his feet.
“It’ll be fine. I will go in and get us a table, no worries.” Rolling her eyes and slightly frustrated at the boys’ sudden irritation with each other, Hermione stomped across the street.
***
Just as she was about to reach the handle to the door of the café, a tall man from inside moved to hold it open for her. Looking up to give thanks to a stranger, she stared into the grey eyes of a man that she knew too well. He appeared slightly distressed, which intrigued Hermione.
“Thanks Malfoy.” Raising a questioning eyebrow, she gave him her sweetest smile and then turned to walk in. Moving to take step, he grabbed her wrist.
“Didn’t expect to see you here, Granger.” He stared at her with a very serious, yet handsome face.
With her annoyance growing at his sudden need for conversation, she glowered at him. “Where did you expect me to be, Malfoy?”
A deafening sound pierced the night.
In slow motion, Hermione sensed glass breaking in the background and felt the strong heat against her face. She couldn’t tell if the force of the blast had knocked her down or if it was her male companion next to her. With no idea of where this explosion had come from, she covered her head with her hands and slowly felt herself losing consciousness. She thought she heard a voice from far away whisper just before her world went black.
“Not here.”
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