Chapter Text
I knocked at Hermione's door, knowing Ron would be at work at this time of the day and that she and I could talk without worrying about him overhearing. It took three attempts before the door opened a crack and her face appeared in the centre.
"Harry," she greeted, sounding surprised... and nervous. "Um, now's not a good time. I was just in the middle of... cleaning the bathtub." She stalled, dropped her eyes, and it was obvious she was lying.
"Hermione," I said in as gentle a voice as I could, "I know. I know about Ron."
Her gaze flew back to mine, widened with fear.
"I'm sorry, Harry, but I have to-"
She began closing the door between us. I wasn't going to have that. I lodged my steel-toed boot in the crack, preventing it from shutting.
"I found him," I said, my voice raised just a bit to make it clear I wasn't going to be pushed away. "I found Draco Malfoy."
The resistance to my attempts to force the door open quite suddenly stopped.
"'Mione, I know everything about the two of you. And I know Ron's part in it all. Open the door, and let's talk about it."
It took no more persuasion on my part to get Hermione to concede. The fight in her just seemed to give out, like a balloon deflating as all its air was let out at once, and she simply gave up. The force resisting my weight against the door went slack, so I pushed the portal open... and saw the evidence I'd dreaded clearly marking the side of her face and confirming my worst suspicions. A purpling bruise approximately the size of a man's fist bloomed across her lower right jaw.
Ron, I knew, was a southpaw and had a hell of a left hook.
Locking the door behind me and bespelling it for privacy with a simple wave of my wand, I confronted her on the injury. "That's from him, isn't it? Ron hit you, didn't he?"
Her eyes dropped to the floor, and I saw it then, her brokenness, just as Draco predicted I would. It flashed across her face as a stark terror that paled her cheeks and caused her to cringe. She folded her arms about her middle and hunched in on herself, backing away.
"It was... my fault," she hastily explained. "I made his eggs the wrong way. He always prefers them lightly scrambled so that they're nice and soft, but I left them on the stove a little longer than usual, and they were dry. I tried to hide it by salting them a bit more, but that made him angry. He said I shouldn't cover up my mistakes, because it only made them worse. He was right, of course. It was a foolish thing to do." Her eyes suddenly grew distant and her voice so soft I could barely hear it. "Just like back then. He loved me, and I... I hurt him with Draco. I deceived him. I tried to fix the mistake then, too, but... you can't put right cheating on your fiancé, can you?"
My anger at her defence of what had been done to her was a dark, roiling pit of barely-contained hostility in my belly, and I fought back the frustrated howl that threatened to leave my lips, knowing how things would now play out between us. This, right here, was a textbook example of classic Battered Person Syndrome: Hermione's false belief that she'd been responsible for triggering Ron's violence, and that she deserved the resulting abuse as punishment. I recognized it from my dozen years in the service of dark wizarding catching, especially among the wives of former Death Eaters. From my experience, the outcome of our confrontation would now be as inevitable as it had been for those other witches: a quarrel as I challenged her, her resistance, an escalated argument, and finally her acceptance of my logic and a moving breakdown. Either that or she'd stubbornly oppose the facts...
...in which case I'd have to forcibly remove her from her home and keep her locked away in mine until Ron's unholy influence over her emotions went away. I was prepared to do that, too, if it came to it, and to hell with the legalities.
I shored up my courage, kept my voice neutral, and spoke very firmly when I said, "I'm speaking to you now not only as your friend, 'Mione, but as an Auror who works everyday within the law. Please listen very carefully to what I'm about to tell you, and trust in my long years of expertise: there is never an excuse for domestic violence. Not ever. You can't justify this type of assault. What Ron did to you and to Malfoy years ago was wrong. What Ron has been doing to you since is also wrong. It is criminal behaviour. He's manipulated you to control you, twisting your guilt around and is using it to his advantage to keep you under his thumb. That's common in spousal abuse cases such as yours."
I stepped towards her, wanting to take her into my arms to hold her close, or maybe to shake some sense into her. I wasn't sure which. I only knew I wanted to do both so badly that my back teeth ached with the need. She backpedalled as quickly as she could, however, trying to maintain a distance between us, fear strapping her features and glazing her eyes.
I wanted to snarl with frustration, my patience slipping away in the face of my best friend's terror. "Look at what he's made you into," I accused. "You used to be fearless, Hermione. What happened to you? What happened to the girl I once knew who chased a Basilisk, and who faced down the Ministry's High Inquisitor, the darkest wizard of our times, and an army of genocidal monsters without so much as a quiver in her chin? What happened to the girl with dreams of helping house-elves be free, who travelled back through time to help an innocent man escape death, and who wanted to run for Minister someday? What happened to your Gryffindor heart, Hermione?"
I was angry now, shaking from head to toe, my voice strained from the effort of holding back my temper. "He's broken you. Don't you see? Ron has broken you down until those things don't exist anymore, all so he can own your every action and thought. You're nothing more than a... a doll to him, his own personal toy that he can abuse and ruin as he sees fit. That isevil, Hermione. What he's done to you is evil."
Putting a finger to her lips, she shushed him. "No, don't say that. If he hears you..."
I quickly turned all of my senses outward, seeking the presence of another person in the house. No sounds aside from my own heartbeat and Hermione's rapid breathing met my ears, however, and my magical energies encountered no one else but us.
"He's not here right now, is he?" I asked, assessing her expression for any telltale signs of lying, just in case.
She shook her head. "No, but he could come back. He sometimes does that, comes back at odd hours."
"To make sure you're home and doing what you're supposed to do – what he expects you to do, you mean," I growled.
Her gaze dropped to the floor again. "Harry, you don't understand. I want to make him happy."
"Do you?" I demanded, stepping towards her again. "Or are you really just afraid of what will happen if you disappoint him again?"
It was the breakthrough question, and I knew it by the way her lids flared, her pupils blew wide, and she staggered back against the wall. It didn't seem possible that her face could get any paler, but somehow it did, sheeting white. I'd finally reached her with the truth.
"Oh, God. Harry..." Tears welled in her eyes, and she slapped her hands over them to hide. "Harry... help me."
I closed the distance between us and took her into my arms, cradling her close to my heart. She sobbed so hard I thought her spine would snap from the tension within her. When her knees gave out, I lifted her into my arms with very little effort -Jesus, she couldn't weigh more than seven stone! - carrying her too-thin body over to the sofa, and sat with her in my lap. Her tears continued to stain my shirt, and her repeated whisper of, "I'm sorry," tore at my soul as I held her in silence.
Long minutes later, when she'd finally fallen into a quiet exhaustion, her whole body went limp with defeat, and I couldn't help but notice that she really was like a Barbie doll then, all impossibly slim with sharp joints and threadlike limbs. I could feel her ribs prominent and severe under my hand as it rested on her torso, and knew she'd been starved for more than love. Controlling the intake of food was another classic abuser tactic that it seemed Ron had utilized to keep Hermione too weak to fight back.
"I'm sorry I didn't see it until now," I whispered, kissing her temple. "'Mione, I'm so sorry."
"It's not your fault, Harry. It's hard enough for me to admit..." She choked over her words. "It's not your fault."
Her forgiveness was easy for her to give, as she'd always had a generous, sweet soul, but more difficult for me to accept, because of my guilt.
The truth was, I should have seen what was going on right under my nose years ago when my two best friends changed, but I'd been too wrapped up in bringing down vengeance upon the heads of those who'd been corrupted by dark magic to see it camped out in my own backyard. And there was no longer any doubt in my mind that I was dealing with a lingering shadow of the locket horcrux, because I recognized that barely discernible, whispering voice deep within me now, too. Once the idea occurred to me that Voldemort's black magic might be unduly influencing me, it was as if the volume level on a radio began slowly turning up, making the lyrics of the song easier to hear.
Right now, it was suggesting some pretty sick things in regards to taking advantage of Hermione's vulnerabilities.
Doing my best to ignore its low-pitched, hissing attempts at persuasion, I suggested to Hermione that we pack her bags, taking everything she valued out of the home, and head back to my place where she could temporarily stay until I could find her safer accommodations. I explained to her that Malfoy was staying with me as well as a protected ward as a result of this case, and asked if it would be too difficult for her to be there at the same time. "I can always move him to an Auror safe house, if you need me to."
It took her a long, silent moment to make up her mind. "We're going to have to see each other again, won't we?"
"Yes, you will."
She leaned her head back on my shoulder to meet my eye. "What really happened to him? Ron said Draco told him that he didn't want 'damaged goods' after that day in Hogsmeade, when... when..."
"When Ron raped you," I murmured, trying to keep my anger at that under wraps.
Hermione nodded. "But Draco wouldn't have said that, Harry. W-we loved each other." She wiped at a fresh batch of tears and choked over a sob. "I never believed he'd walked away on his own. I'd thought... I've always believed Ron... k-killed him. I was so afraid it was true, especially after... he'd h-hurt me."
"Why didn't you tell me then? Or Professor McGonagall? Do anything, but stay with him?"
Turning her cheek, she cried into my shoulder again. "B-because he said he was s-sorry, but that I'd driven him to it. If I hadn't c-cheated, none of it would have happened. He told me it was my f-fault, and... and Harry, he was right. I made him angry! I hurt him! I shouldn't have done that."
"Hermione, no," I reiterated. "There's no excuse for hurting you the way he did, no matter what led up to it."
She shuddered in my arms. "I think... I think I'm going insane. I feel so torn. A part of me hears you and knows you're right, but there's another side that talks to me, tells me I've deserved it all, and that I'm guilty and should be punished."
I swallowed with anxiety, putting together her inference. "Is it a sort of hissing voice in the back of your head? Really soft at first, making suggestions?"
Pulling back, she looked me in the eye and nodded. "I... I thought it was my conscience in the beginning, but after all these years..." She shook from head to toe. "Harry, I've gone mad, haven't I? I'm not sane anymore. I've a split personality. That's why this is happening to me, isn't it?" She fisted the lapels of my robes and pulled them. "I'm sick. I need help. Please, help me, Harry!"
She started sobbing again, and I could see how very lost she'd become because of the darkness within her that had taken over. It had eaten away at her dignity and pride over the last dozen years, until she was this... a shell of the witch I'd once known.
Tears filled my eyes, then. I tossed my glasses onto the cushion beside me, and hugged Hermione with all I was worth, rocking her back and forth like a small child. Now I was the one repeating, "I'm sorry," over and over again until my voice broke.
Two hours later, we had Hermione packed and ready to go. By that time, she knew the truncated version of Malfoy's story, my belief in the influence of the horcrux upon us all, and my intentions to stop Ron, no matter what it took. Just before we'd Disapparated away, we'd agreed to find a way to overcome Voldemort's lingering influence in our lives, and I saw a little of the old Hermione back in the resolve that darkened her honey-brown eyes.
...
Malfoy was coming out of the kitchen when Hermione and I stepped through my front door. The instant he saw my best friend, he went completely still. Between one blink and the next, he became a pale statue.
"This is the safest place for her to be right now," I explained, knowing I'd expressly ignored his pleading for her not to see him or know of his fate. "I'll explain later," I promised him, knowing he was going to want a really good justification for my decision.
Very slowly, I watched Draco dip his head once in agreement.
Next to me, Hermione was trembling, her attention completely focused on the blond wizard at the end of the hall. Her eyes were slightly flared, as if she feared believing that what she was seeing was real.
I took her hand and pulled her forward. She followed with no resistance. "Let's get you settled, and then I'll change the wards around the place."
Draco backpedalled, giving us plenty of room as we went past him and down the hall towards the back of the flat. His gaze was locked on Hermione like a man in the desert wondering if the oasis before him was real or a mirage. He didn't say a single word as I directed her into my bedroom and laid her bag on the bed.
"You can clean-up if you want through there," I indicated the bathroom directly across the hall, realizing with some measure of astonishment that she'd never actually seen my flat before. I called her my best friend, and she'd never even been in my home. That thought nearly sent me into another round of self-flagellation. "Or if you're tired, you can rest." I waved a hand at the messy bed. Malfoy had obviously been sleeping in it not long ago. "Maybe once it's made, I mean. Um, I can order take-away, too, if you're hungry instead. Nearby, there's Chinese, and a really great curry shoppe, and-"
"Thank you, Harry," she interrupted, taking a deep breath. "I'm going to take a shower, if you don't mind. It's been... a long day." She paused, seeming to reconsider her words. "A long twelve years, actually."
"Uh, sure. Sure, that's fine," I said, rushing to the linen closet to get her a towel. "Left for hot, right for cold. I'm just going to-" I passed her the towel and pointed to the door. Hermione nodded and I left.
The minute I was in the kitchen, Draco confronted me.
"I asked for only one thing, Potter. Why would you do this?"
As I opened my fridge and grabbed a Muggle beer, I explained, "My flat has some of the strongest wards on it outside of Hogwarts. I've always made sure of it after the war, because are still too many fanatics out there who would like to see me dead." I reached for the bottle opener and cracked the top off my beer. As I leaned against the counter, I stared into those steely-grey eyes, so full of directed anger. "Ron will look for her once he realizes she's left him. He'll go to her parents' house first, and then to the house I gave Ginny in the divorce. Once she tells him no one in their family knows where she is, he'll come to me. There's no way I'm letting him near 'Mione or you; her because I'm afraid of him influencing her into going back to him, and you because I know you'll kill him. Or try to. Without a wand, he'll most likely kill you instead. I'd rather he didn't."
A look of incredulity passed over Draco's face. "You don't honestly mean to tell me that you're going to try to talk to him about what he's done?" Fury stained his normally pallid cheekbones a dark, cherry red. "So help me to God, Potter, if you try to save him from this-"
I cut him off before he could even finish that thought. "No. He's going to be taken into custody. His memories will be probed, he'll be given Veritaserum, and he'll be checked for the influence of dark magic - the standard criminal arrest protocol."
I knew Malfoy's intent even before he opened his mouth: he was going to ask why I just didn't kill Ron and get it over with. I cut him off at the pass, as it were.
"Don't speak. Don't even suggest it," I warned. "I'm an Auror in the middle of a criminal investigation. I'll be called to testify about all of this, and my memories will be subjected to a Pensieve probe. It's better to keep your thoughts about Ron and his fate as an internal monologue from this point forward."
I took a swig of the beer, feeling the cool liquid glide down my throat. It helped soothe my frazzled nerves.
"And to finish answering your question: she's going to be a part of that investigation, too, and it would eventually come out that I was tipped off to Ron's abuse through your accusation of his part in her rape. There was no way from the moment I laid eyes on you that you two wouldn't have to come into contact again someday. You had to have known it was inevitable."
Malfoy looked like I'd just kicked his favourite Kneazle, but I shrugged off the guilt of throwing him into such an uncomfortable position, not needing to feel that burden on top of the stacked layers of responsibility I was currently struggling to maintain. What was done was done.
"Now, if you're not comfortable staying in the same house as her, I can arrange for you to stay at a level-one Auror safe house with round-the-clock protection," I offered. "I'll even set up the wards myself. However, I won't release Hermione from my custody without a legal injunction and the promise from the court that she'll be held under the highest security protocols available for safeguarding a witness. There's no way I'm letting her out of my sight without guarantees in place from the people with the power."
Draco's expression shifted. Now he looked like he wanted to argue, to snarl, or even to scream at me. Instead, he showed a remarkable amount of restraint and merely clamped his mouth shut, clenched his fists, and silently shook with fury.
We stared at each other in silence as I continued to finish off the beer, giving him time to cool down and to understand that I wasn't going to apologize for doing what had to be done. No matter how painful this journey would be for the three of us, we were now all bound by fate to see its conclusion through, and I intended to do my damndest to assure both of my charges were kept safe.
"Overly-protective arsehole," he finally growled.
"Yeah," I replied without apology. "That's me."
My new roommate lost all of his bluster then. He looked over his shoulder in the direction where we could both hear Hermione crying in the shower instead.
I steeled my spine and swallowed my pride when I pushed, "Go to her. She... needs you."
"She needs you more than me," Malfoy countered.
Firmly, I shook my head. "I can't give her what you can. She's... my best friend."
He snorted at that. "Potter, you're fooling no one. The second I saw her walk through that door at your side, the look on your face... Granger's why it didn't work with the She-Weasel. I know. You know. Quit lying to yourself."
I tossed my beer bottle in the recycling, holding back the surge of feelings in my chest. "Quit stalling," I threw back at him. "Go be with her. Godric knows, you both need it."
He paused in the doorway, leaned his head back against the wood and stared at the ceiling. By the indecision etched into his features, I knew he was struggling with what he wanted versus his inner fears and doubts.
"I'm... scared," he admitted in a small voice.
"So is she," I reminded him. "But that shouldn't stop you. Not when she needs you as she never has before."
I watched his courage slowly solidify, and when he launched himself away from the door jamb and hurried down the hall, I felt a piece of my heart die. Having lost Hermione to Ron so long ago had been a hurt I'd been able to cover up with happiness for my two best friends. Losing her to the man I'd once hated was almost intolerable. If it hadn't been for the fact I'd shared his memories with him, and had felt his abiding love for her as a real, solid fact, I'd have never suggested he go comfort her in the shower, knowing where that would lead.
I needed to get out of there. I couldn't be here when they... A painful knot swelled in my throat, watering my eyes.
Making sure I had my wand, I headed towards the door. As I turned the knob, I heard Hermione gasp Draco's name aloud, and his low groan in response echoed her sentiment. There was desperation, need, apology in the sounds that followed. My hand shook as I stepped out, locking the door behind me.
I spent an hour changing the wards around my place to keep out anyone but Hermione, Draco, and me, and then I went to the Ministry to report my suspicions to my superiors and to get an arrest warrant for Ronald Bilius Weasley.