Work Text:
There’s a lot of downtime to being an Auror. Way more than Ron would have expected before he started hanging around the department two months ago to research his next novel.
Harry, it seems, is always busy as the Head Auror, but if the team isn’t actively working a case, they’re most often sitting around the DMLE just waiting for the next one. Dean and Seamus fill the time with gobstones, exploding snap, and whatever else catches their amusement in any given moment. “If we don’t have work to do, that means no one’s dead,” Seamus had said with a shrug when Ron brought it up.
The lead detective in the unit, though, never seems content to just relax. Ron has watched Hermione help other Aurors with their own paperwork, clean the office top to bottom more than once…watched her practice defensive spells that one day that he had followed her down to the Ministry gym because he’d been sure that was just an excuse to skive off and go do something fun. It wasn’t.
Hermione Granger is an unstoppable force of nature, and Merlin help anyone who chooses to get in her way.
Ron needs a lot of help, these days.
He’s learned at least as much about her in the downtime as he has from watching her solve homicides, but one thing has been consistent: Hermione works too hard. And she hasn’t exactly taken kindly to his suggestions that she take a break every once in a while, as well-meaning as his advice is. He’s pretty sure she thinks his goal is to distract her or pump her full of questions for his book, but he really does just want her to slow down a bit. How she’s not completely burnt-out at the end of every day is one of the mysteries about her that he hasn’t yet solved.
Hopefully, he can convince her to cut loose for just one night and come to his Halloween party this coming weekend, but he hasn’t worked up the gumption to ask her yet. He’s worried she’ll bite his head off, but hoping that she’ll enthusiastically agree and show up in a skimpy costume. Realistically, though, he’s expecting a polite decline that falls somewhere in between the two extremes.
“You can go home, you know.” Hermione’s voice startles him out of his thoughts, and he turns to look at her. She has one eyebrow raised in amusement and a smirk playing on the edge of her lips, making him wonder just how zoned out he was in his thoughts. “You look nearly bored to death. You don’t have to sit around the DMLE while we’re not working a case.”
“Not bored, just thinking,” Ron defends himself. “Besides, if I go home, how will I know when we do have a case?”
“I’ll owl you.”
As much as she doesn’t like him being here, he doesn’t really trust that to be true, but before he can argue, something else draws his attention. The Muggle phone that sits on Hermione’s desk, which may as well be a paperweight for how often he’s seen her use it to make a phone call—exactly never, so far—rings so loudly that it buzzes his eardrums.
“See, if I go home I miss things.”
Hermione rolls her eyes as she reaches for the handset. “You’ve never seen a Muggle phone ring before?”
“Not here. What the hell do Muggles call Aurors for?”
He’s beyond intrigued, but his only answer is a widening of Hermione’s smirk as she picks up the phone. “This is Detective Granger…Oh, hi Darren…I know you are not just calling me to ask how the weather is. I’m only across town.” She shakes her head and shoots a conspiratorial smile at Ron, as if he should be equally amused by Darren’s antics. “No, we’re free at the moment. What have you got?”
Hermione listens while her mouth twists into a deeper and deeper frown over whatever this Darren bloke has to say. Ron is sure he’s making the same face, only his consternation is over wondering who the hell this Darren bloke is. He’s never seen Hermione with anyone, and she’s never mentioned a boyfriend, but he’s also never heard her use that voice before—friendly, teasing, the opposite of the business-like tone he’s used to.
“Are you sure?” she asks finally. “I mean, that’s impossible unless—you’re kidding…Okay, we’ll be right there. What’s the address?” Hermione scribbles his response into the little notebook she carries everywhere while Ron cranes his neck to see what she’s writing. “Great. See you in a few minutes.”
She hangs up the phone and calls to Dean and Seamus as she reaches for her coat. “Who’s Darren? Where are we going?” Ron fires off as he prepares to follow her. “What’s impossible?” And seriously, who the hell is Darren?
“You might want to grab a fresh quill,” Hermione says with a grin. “I think you’re going to like this one.”
***
They apparate near the address provided by the mysterious Darren and approach the scene on foot. The cemetery gates are barricaded by plastic yellow crime scene tape, and a handful of Muggle police cars flank the entrance, blue and red flashes lighting up the grey fall sky.
“The victim is already at a cemetery?” Ron questions as the four of them walk single file up the sidewalk, leaves crunching underfoot. “That’s convenient, I suppose.”
Hermione doesn’t bother turning around, but he recognizes the slight tilt of her head that always accompanies an eye roll. One of the Muggle policemen, a clean-cut bloke about their age with perfectly white teeth that Ron can see from here, spots them and breaks off from the group to meet them at the gate. He’s not one of the uniforms, badge clipped to the outside pocket of his smart tweed coat, and he greets Dean and Seamus each with a friendly handshake before giving Hermione a quick hug.
Ron hates him instantly.
“Darren, this is Ron Weasley, he’s going to be shadowing us for a while doing some research,” Hermione introduces him as Darren holds out a hand. “Ron, this is Detective Inspector Darren Hobbs with the Metropolitan Police.”
“Pleasure,” Ron grunts as he shakes hands with the detective.
“Likewise,” Darren replies, sounding much more genuine than Ron feels. Prick. “Shall we?”
Hermione moves to follow Darren immediately, but Ron hesitates and snags Dean’s arm to hold him back. “So if these are the Muggle police,” he whispers, “who do they think you are?”
“Just a special investigative unit,” Dean replies. “Darren knows the truth, though. He’s sort of a liaison between the departments.”
“He’s a Muggle too?” Ron questions, to which Dean nods. “And he and Hermione are…?”
“Oi!” Seamus calls from up ahead. “You two coming, or what?”
Ron and Dean hurry to catch up to the others as Darren is instructing the rest of his team. “Let’s start a canvas, see if we can find any witnesses or anything that can identify our victim here.”
When the cops disperse, Ron gets his first look at the victim and his jaw drops wide. He looks young, not much older than Rose, but what really has Ron stunned is the wooden stake protruding from the boy’s chest and the hint of fangs peeking out from his parted lips.
“You weren’t kidding,” Hermione says once the rest of the Muggles are out of earshot. “All the murders in this city, and you catch a vampire with a wooden stake.”
“Hey, would I lie to you?” Darren teases back. “Besides, I don’t mind the occasional change of pace from Colonel Mustard with the candlestick.”
A quiet chuckle circles the group and Ron frowns, woefully uninformed. “Who’s Colonel Mustard? Is he a suspect?” When his only answer is an increase in the volume of their laughter, he realizes it must be an inside joke. “Is this a police thing?”
“Nah, mate, it’s a Muggle thing,” Seamus supplies. “So, do we know anything about our victim other than his Being classification?”
Darren shakes his head. “Was kind of hoping one of you might be able to identify him.”
“Wizards and vampires don’t typically run in the same circles. Does anybody recognize him?” Hermione glances around at the other three, but is met with a round of negatives. “He’s quite young for a vampire, but we’ll do our best. Padma is on her way, too. You’ll allow us to take possession of the body so she can perform a full examination?”
“Absolutely. Come on, I’ve got the release forms in my car.”
While Dean starts taking notes and Seamus joins the Muggle cops canvassing the area for evidence, Ron takes the opportunity to watch Darren and Hermione. She’s always at her most at-ease when they’re at a crime scene—exuding a quiet, self-assured confidence that she knows exactly what to do—but there’s something different about the way she interacts with the Muggle detective. Hermione has not so far proven herself to be laid-back in any aspect of her life, but watching her giggle with Darren over autopsy forms has Ron thinking that maybe it’s not Hermione at all. Maybe it’s just Ron that has her wound so tightly. She must despise him more than he thought.
“To answer your question,” Dean pipes up. Ron turns to look at him and feels his ears redden at the realization that he’s been caught staring. “They’re just friends, as far as I know. But you know how Hermione is—she keeps her private life pretty private.”
He’s not sure he does know how Hermione is, but he tries to play it off with a shrug. “Yeah, sure. I was just curious.” The smirk Dean gives Ron in return shows he isn’t entirely convinced, but he turns back to his notepad without any further comment.
Hermione didn’t warn him that they were going to a Muggle crime scene—she told him to grab a bloody quill on the way out, for Merlin’s sake—so he doesn’t have anything suitable on which to take his own notes, but he has a keen eye for detail and he’s sure he can remember enough until they can get back to the Ministry and he can write it all down. Being useful seems like the best way to win Hermione over, although it’s a very fine line with her between being useful and taking over her investigation. Ron feels his contributions are strictly the former, but Hermione has accused him of the latter more than once in the two short months he’s been shadowing her. They’ll just have to agree to disagree on that for now.
Dean’s focus is on the victim, Seamus and the rest of the Muggle police are working the perimeter of the area, and Hermione and Darren are now briefing Padma, so Ron sets out amid the rows of headstones, looking for clues. He makes several zigzagging passes around the cemetery before he spots something interesting. Not far from the young vampire, a fresh bouquet of flowers rests against one of the tombstones, and Ron pauses to read the engraving in the marble:
Elizabeth Monroe
Beloved Wife and Mother
1967-?
“1967 to question mark?” Hermione’s voice behind startles him from his focus. He was so engrossed in looking for clues that he didn’t hear her sneak up on him.
“Weird, right?” he agrees as he turns to face her. “If they don’t know when she died, what’s buried here?”
Hermione shrugs. “Not the mystery we’re here to solve. Ready to head back to the Ministry?”
Ron peeks over her shoulder, where Darren is rounding up his uniforms. “Just us?”
“Well, I thought we’d invite Dean and Seamus, too,” she replies with a smirk, and Ron shakes his head.
“No Darren, I mean?”
“No. He’s a Muggle detective. We’re taking over the case.” Hermione gives him a puzzled frown. “What does it matter, though? Do you have a problem with Darren?”
Ron forces himself to bite his tongue. After all, his problem with Darren is that Hermione seems to fancy him, and that isn’t anything he’s going to admit to her.
“He’s fine. I just don’t know how this works, with you and the Muggle police.”
“Pretty much like this.” She smiles and gives a quick tug at the sleeve of his coat. “Come on. We’ve got work to do.”
***
Despite there not being many details as of yet, Hermione takes great care adding the information about the new case to her board while Ron looks on. She steps back and surveys the woefully empty space with a sigh. “At least with a vampire murder, that limits the number of suspects.”
“More so than with a normal magical murder?” Ron questions. Having a vampire as a victim is new for him, but he assumes it’s as typical as any other investigation for Hermione. “I mean, there’s only so many of us.”
“They don’t spend a lot of time with wizards, as you know. Many of them keep to themselves entirely.” She props herself onto the edge of her desk and worries her bottom lip between her teeth as her eyes focus on the photo of the young vampire. “Of course, without being able to identify our victim, we’ll be lucky to have this one solved by November.”
Ron’s ears perk up at the opening. “Big plans this weekend, then?”
“No.” Hermione answers without hesitation, but her cheeks flush as she amends, “I mean, I don’t think so. I’ll have to check. Why?”
Now or never, Ron thinks to himself as he tamps down his nerves. “I’m having a Halloween party on Saturday. If you want to come.”
“Oh.” Hermione turns her head to look at him, eyes widened slightly. Ron braces for her rejection, but then she smiles. “Sure. That sounds fun.”
“Really?”
Hermione tuts and looks back to her board. “Always the tone of surprise.”
“I haven’t seen you have one single second of fun since we met,” Ron retorts. “I’m not even sure you know how.”
“That’s not true. I have fun.”
“Only with Darren.” The words slip out before Ron can stop them, and he wishes he could dissolve away into the floor as Hermione turns to face him fully, hands on her hips and daggers shooting from her eyes.
“There you go again,” she scolds. “Just what exactly is your issue with Darren?”
“Hey, we—” Seamus stops short as he enters the room with Dean and regards the two of them with a broad smirk. “Are we interrupting?”
“Yes,” Ron replies indignantly as Hermione snaps back an emphatic, “No.”
“O-kay,” Dean drawls, fighting a grin of his own. He plucks a purple interdepartmental memo from Seamus’s hand and passes it to Hermione. “From Padma. She’s got something to show you down at the morgue.”
“Great.” Hermione tucks the memo into her pocket without reading it. “Did you find anything on the canvas?”
Both of the detectives shake their heads. “Nothing yet,” Seamus replies. “No witnesses. Those Muggle bobbies didn’t turn up anything, either.”
“All right, just keep me posted.”
She turns to head for the Floo without another word to Ron, who hesitates before following her. She doesn’t protest when he steps into the fireplace beside her, but she doesn’t look thrilled with him either. Not that that’s anything new.
“Not that it’s any of your business,” Hermione begins irritably as they exit the Floo into the sterile grey hallway of St. Mungo’s, “but Darren and I are just friends.”
Ron holds his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t ask.”
“I’m beating you to it. Now could you please drop it with all your little comments?”
“Okay, okay, it’s dropped.” Hermione gives him a curt nod as they push open the double doors to Padma’s examination room. As they enter, they find the forensic healer preparing to remove the wooden stake from their victim, and Ron lets out a yell of surprise. “Wait!”
Padma turns to him with a glare that rivals the ones he gets from Hermione, but doesn’t loosen her grip on the stake. “What is the matter?”
“If you pull that out, he’s going to come back to life!” Ron protests, causing both women to roll their eyes in exaggerated fashion.
“If he does, we can all go home early,” Padma quips. She pulls the stake out with a squelching sound that makes Ron wince. There’s no stirring from the victim, and Ron lets out a little sigh of relief.
Hermione misses absolutely nothing, and she scoffs in response. “Honestly,” she huffs, “don’t they teach you Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts? That’s just rubbish that Muggles have come up with about vampires. They can’t come back to life.”
“The wooden stake thing is obviously real,” Ron argues. “Excuse me for taking precautions.”
Hermione opens her mouth to retort again, but Padma interrupts their bickering. “Regardless, your victim isn’t a vampire.”
“He’s not?” Ron and Hermione chorus.
Padma claps her hands together. “It’s so cute the way you two do that,” she teases. Hermione blushes furiously but doesn’t allow the distraction.
“The victim,” she presses. “What do you mean he’s not a vampire?”
“I mean, he’s not a vampire.” Padma crosses the room to pick up her autopsy file and flips through it briefly before handing it to Hermione. “He’s got no magical blood at all, in fact.”
“He’s a Muggle? But he has fangs,” Ron insists.
“They’re fake,” Padma explains. “And not the cheap kind you buy at a costume shop, either. It’s professional dental work.”
“To look like a vampire?”
“You’d be surprised.” Ron turns sharply to look at Hermione, his curiosity piqued, but her nose is buried in the file. “Well, I suppose I’ll call Darren then and let him take his case back.” She flips the file shut and glances at Padma. “You’ll contact their medical examiner?”
“Already on his way,” Padma says with a nod.
“Great, thanks.” Hermione leads Ron out of the examination room, but instead of stopping at the fireplace, she heads for the lifts further down the hall.
“Where are we going?” Ron asks as he follows.
“Scotland Yard is just a couple of streets over.” She presses the button for the lift and smirks at him. “Unless you’d rather not see the inside of the Muggle police headquarters. For research.”
She’s toying with him, he knows, after their little spat back at the Ministry. But he’d much rather get a firsthand look at Scotland Yard than avoid the experience because of Hermione’s not-boyfriend. Besides, they’re paying Darren a visit to give him his case back and tell him to properly bugger off, and that’s not something Ron wants to miss.
And he’s definitely not going to give Hermione the satisfaction of thinking he’s jealous.
The lift dings to a stop in front of them, and Ron gestures at the open door. “Lead the way.”
***
Hermione enters the imposing stone building and flashes her badge at the front desk guard without missing a step, making Ron wonder just how frequent her visits are to Scotland Yard. They walk up to the second floor and find Darren’s cubicle just around the corner from the stairwell. At no point does she need to stop and ask where to find the Muggle detective, either, and Ron scowls at the implication as Hermione raps on the little divider wall to get his attention.
“Hey, Hermione!” Darren greets her cheerfully before his eyes flicker to Ron and his tone loses some of its luster. “Ron, good to see you again. What are you guys doing here?”
“We were in the neighborhood and thought we’d stop by in person to give you your case back.” Hermione hands over Padma’s file, but Darren sets it on the desk behind him without opening it.
“The, uh…” He glances around, but the room is full of detectives, preventing them from speaking candidly. “Case from this morning?”
“Yes. Those are Padma’s notes. She’s already made arrangements with your M.E. to transfer the body.”
“Okay, but why are we taking it back?”
“Turns out the victim is…” Hermione does the same visual sweep of the office, though of course nothing’s changed, and she gives an equally vague response. “Not part of our jurisdiction.”
Darren frowns and stands from his desk, motioning the two of them to follow. Once they’re closed into a small conference room, he says, “Okay, real talk.”
“Real talk,” Hermione agrees, “he’s not a vampire. Padma’s sure he’s not magical.”
“The fangs, though?”
“High-end veneers. We couldn’t identify him, but hopefully you’ll be able to through the dental work. I know someone who specializes in this sort of cosmetic dentistry. I’ll get you his number.”
Darren smirks at Hermione and asks, “And exactly why do you have a fang-master on speed dial?”
For the first time, Ron thinks the Muggle detective might actually be useful. He’d quite like an answer to Darren’s question, too, and Hermione’s much more likely to give it to him than to Ron.
She rolls her eyes but smiles. “I know a lot of dentists through my parents. This one just happens to specialize in—”
“Fangs?” Ron snorts.
“Seriously,” Darren agrees. “Imagine spending all that time in dental school for that.”
“Anyway,” Hermione interrupts, taking a step toward the door, “like I said, I’m sure I have his number somewhere. If he’s not the one who did the work, he can probably point you in the right direction.”
“Or,” Darren says, and Ron’s hatred for the man is back in an instant. There’s no or. They’ve given the case back and now they’re leaving. End of story. “We could work the case together. Seems like there’s a bit of overlap in our worlds on this one.”
“Well…” Hermione hesitates, and Ron uses all of his non-existent legilimency powers to send her a message. Say no, say no.
“Besides, two—er, three—” Smooth, you wanker. “—heads are better than one, right? What do you say?”
To his surprise, Hermione looks over at Ron for an answer. Surely she doesn’t really care about his opinion. Maybe she wants to say no and just needs him as an excuse. “What do you think, Ron?” she asks. “Want to see how the Muggle police operate?”
Despite the fact that he wants to say no, and get them both as far away from here as possible, Ron forces himself to shrug. Darren’s gaze is fixed on Hermione as he waits for an answer, and Ron grins, his mind made up. Enemies closer, and all. “Sure,” he replies, “that’d be brilliant.”
Hermione’s face is unreadable as she turns back to Darren. “Sure,” she echoes. “As long as the team hasn’t picked up another case in the meantime. Where should we meet you in the morning?”
“Here’s good,” Darren replies, beaming now. “Then we can head over to meet your dentist.”
“Great. See you tomorrow.”
Ron watches Darren watch Hermione as she opens the conference room door to step back out into the open office space and wonders if he looks quite so dumbstruck around her. Hermione seems completely oblivious either way, so once they’re back outside heading for the tube station, Ron says, “He fancies you, y’know.”
Hermione scoffs. “Stop it, he does not.”
“‘We could work the case together’,” Ron mimics. “I mean, what kind of a lame line is that?”
“Oh, I dunno, about as lame as ‘let me follow you around for research for my book’.” Hermione stops and turns to face him with one eyebrow quirked and her lips twitching with the effort of holding back a smirk, and Ron finds himself scrambling for a response.
“That wasn’t—I mean, I don’t—”
“Exactly, and neither does Darren.” It would be hard to argue with that logic without incriminating himself, so Ron lets it go as Hermione starts walking again. “He’s a good detective and we have a lot in common. That’s all.”
The discussion lulls as they enter the tube station, and Ron ventures, “Well, you can bring him to the party if you want. As a friend, or…whatever.”
“Who says I’m even coming to your party?” Ron’s heart sinks until Hermione throws a wink over her shoulder at him, and he grins in return.
“Costumes are mandatory.”
***
They meet Darren the next morning outside Scotland Yard and take a short tube ride over to Piccadilly Circus. Ron is expecting a nondescript, boring dental office, but instead, Hermione leads them into a flashy storefront filled with costumes and props. “Are you sure this is the right place?” Ron asks as his eyes flit past wigs and masks and outfits. He gets a quick glare from Hermione, who heads confidently to the back of the store where a counter separates the shop from a curtained back room. A little silver bell rests on the counter, and Hermione rings it with a sharp tap.
After a moment, the curtain pushes aside, and an older man in a white doctor’s coat appears. “Ah, Hermione, nice to see you,” he greets her. “Have you changed your mind? Still think you’d enjoy a nice set of doubles.”
The dentist motions to a model of a jaw that sits on the counter, on which sharply pointed fangs replace the normal teeth, and a shiver runs down Ron’s spine. The idea of a fanged Hermione is somehow more terrifying than her usual imposing demeanor. Do Muggles really enjoy all this vampire shit? If only they had any idea of the reality. Although, as he catches sight of one of the vampire costumes hanging on the wall—costume is a loose term, seeing as it’s more or less lingerie and a cape—his mind conjures an image of Hermione in it and he thinks maybe he understands the appeal.
“No, we’re actually here on police business today.” Hermione gestures to Ron and Darren as she introduces them. “Doctor Murray, this is Detective Inspector Hobbs, and Ron Weasley. He’s a consultant with the department.”
Dr. Murray gives a slight nod of his head. “How can I help? The doctor is in.”
Darren takes over then, removing a photo of the victim from the file he’s carrying. “We’re investigating a homicide, and our victim had some dental work done. We were hoping you might be able to identify him.”
“Oh,” the doctor says sadly, his face falling as he takes the photo. “Yes, that’s Thorn.”
“Thorn?” Hermione repeats, brows furrowing.
“Many of the people that seek my services choose to go by names other than their given ones,” Dr. Murray explains before handing the photo back to Darren. “Not a lot of Meg’s or Dave’s in the vampire community. Thorn seemed like a nice kid. What happened to him?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Darren replies. “Do you know his real name, or have an address for him maybe?”
“Sure, let me check my records. Just a moment.”
The doctor ducks back behind his curtain while Darren busies himself making notes in his file. Ron takes the opportunity to wander the shop, surprised when Hermione follows him instead of lingering at the counter with Darren. “You know, if you don’t have a Halloween costume yet, we could pick one out for you while we’re here,” he offers.
Hermione rolls her eyes as she flips through the clothing rack. “You can fantasize all you want, but I’m not trying on costumes for you.”
“I didn’t say try on, I said pick out.” Not that I’d be opposed, he adds in his head.
“You must have yours already, then,” Hermione says as she picks up a costume labeled Naughty Nurse and wrinkles her nose in disgust. “What are you dressing up as?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“Okay, then mine’s a surprise too.” Hermione sticks her tongue out at him as Darren approaches.
“Our victim’s real name is Evan Fisher,” he fills them in, “and Dr. Murray had an address on file for him, not too far from here. I’ll have a couple of uniforms meet us there to talk to the neighbors and see what we can find out about him.”
“Not so different to how you do things,” Ron notes to Hermione, who nods.
“That’s great news. Let me just say goodbye to Dr. Murray, and we can go.”
Hermione scurries back to the counter, leaving Ron alone with Darren for the first time. “So,” the detective ventures casually as he taps out a message on his mobile, “how long have you been working with Hermione?”
“Just since the end of summer. I got called in to consult on a copycat case, and she’s been stuck with me ever since.” Ron is only half joking; he’s sure stuck with is exactly how Hermione would describe their arrangement. “We’re not—you know. I just shadow her on cases.”
“Oh, yeah, sure. I didn’t want to assume,” Darren says. His tone is nonchalant, but he’s fighting a smile as Hermione returns to them. Part of Ron wishes he hadn’t said that last bit, but there’s really not anything going on between them, and he doesn’t want Darren to get the wrong idea. Hermione is nothing if not professional, and Ron isn’t going to be the one to change Darren’s opinion of her.
It’s a quick walk to the victim’s flat, and the building manager lets them in without a fuss once she sees Darren’s badge. He, Hermione, Ron, and the two uniformed officers that Darren summoned back at the costume shop begin poking around, looking for clues and turning up nothing of interest. For a bloke who was living as a vampire, Evan Fisher sure did have a boring sense of decor. Ron was expecting a darker vibe than the stereotypical broke college kid that they found instead.
“Look at this,” Hermione says suddenly, holding up a folder with a Kingston University logo emblazoned on the front. “He was studying forensic science at Kingston.”
Darren frowns curiously. “Do you think that’s relevant, or just interesting?”
“I’m not sure.” Hermione flips through the pages in the folder. “It looks like he was only about one term away from completing his degree. He was doing his thesis work on an unsolved murder from almost twenty years ago, a woman named Elizabeth Monroe.”
Ron’s head shoots up from where he’s looking at a stack of takeout receipts. “Elizabeth Monroe?” he repeats.
Hermione and Darren both shoot him quizzical looks. “Who’s Elizabeth Monroe?” Darren asks, but Ron addresses Hermione.
“Remember that headstone at the cemetery?” he prods, and her eyes widen in recognition. “1967 to question mark?”
“There were flowers on that grave,” she adds. “Maybe Evan is the one who left them there.”
Darren pulls a little spiral notebook out of his pocket, just like the one Hermione uses, and jots down the name. “I’ll see what we can find out about her. I should be able to pull some case files from the archives.”
There’s a scuffling noise in the hallway, and all three of them turn towards the sound. A young woman with long, dark hair appears in the doorway and takes in the sight of the police with wide, panicked eyes. “What’s going on here?” she demands with a shaking voice. Ron notices as she speaks that she, too, has a pair of pearly white fangs. “Where’s Thorn?”
Darren approaches her and extends his hand. “I’m Detective Inspector Darren Hobbs. How do you know Evan?”
The woman folds her arms across her chest, refusing Darren’s handshake, and Ron only manages to hold in a smirk due to the seriousness of the situation. “I’m Arachna. His girlfriend. Where is he?”
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but Evan was murdered yesterday.” Ron cringes at the bluntness of Darren’s statement, and across the room, Hermione takes a step forward, prepared to intervene.
“What?!” Arachna gasps, eyes watering. “No! How?”
“I’m afraid that I can’t tell you much about an ongoing investigation,” Darren says, “but we’re doing everything we can to find his killer. Maybe you can help us. One of the uniforms can take your statement. And—er, your real name, if you don’t mind.”
Despite the tears and mascara streaming down her face, Aracha—though that has to be a name she chose for her vampire persona, like Thorn—manages to look quite offended at Darren’s statement. Hermione waves off Darren’s officer and approaches the woman. “I’ll take care of it. Arachna, is it? I’m Hermione. Let’s go talk out in the hall, okay?”
Arachna sniffles and wipes at her eyes, but nods and lets Hermione lead her out of the flat. After the two women disappear, Darren shakes his head, a look of wonder crossing his face. “I’ll never understand how she manages to do that.”
“She’s—” Ron starts and then stops himself. She’s been there. Those were the words on the tip of his tongue, but he has no idea if Darren knows about her mum’s murder. Knowing how reluctant she is to share anything about her personal life, Ron knows he’s not going to be the one to spill the beans. “She’s good that way,” he says instead. “She cares about people.”
Hermione returns a few minutes later without Arachna and holds out her hand for Darren’s notebook. He gives it to her, along with his pen, and Hermione purses her lips as she scribbles on the tiny pages. “Thorn had spoken to Arachna a bit about his thesis, but she’s not sure what the significance is of the case he chose. She mentioned a friend of his, a fellow student who might know more. His name is Conan.”
“Does he have a last name?” Darren asks.
“I’m not even sure that’s his real first name,” Hermione admits with a grimace. “But she knows where he lives, so she gave me an address. And, um…” Hermione pauses as she hands the notebook back to Darren. “She says he’s a werewolf.”
***
It’s well past their usual quitting time when they get back to the Ministry that night. Paying a visit to the victim’s werewolf friend’s flat had turned up more questions than answers—along with another victim. The only thing their investigation had uncovered was a plethora of research about the mysterious Monroe cold case that Conan the werewolf had hidden in a floorboard. It’s clear that whoever killed the two wannabe mythical creatures didn’t want their thesis work to see the light of day.
“You didn’t have to come back to the Ministry with me,” Hermione says as they enter the dimly lit office. For once, she doesn’t sound irritated about his presence, but after the day they’ve had, it’s entirely possible she’s just too tired to care. “I just needed to check in.”
“Yeah, well, it looks like that will have to wait until tomorrow. Even Harry’s gone for the night,” Ron notes as he flops into his chair beside Hermione’s desk. The usually bustling Auror department is completely empty, and Harry’s office is dark.
Hermione flips through a small stack of memos on her desk and then sets them aside. “Doesn’t look like we’ve picked up any new cases.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“I just can’t help but feel like I’m neglecting my own work by consulting on this case with Darren.” Hermione smirks at Ron. “But you’d know all about neglecting work, wouldn’t you?”
“Oh, very funny,” Ron complains, though he takes Hermione’s teasing with a smile. “You sound like my bloody publisher.”
“How is the new book coming, anyway?” Hermione asks, looking genuinely curious. “Have you started writing it, or are you still in your research phase?”
The words have been flowing out of Ron since the day he met Hermione—everything from full chapters to snippets of scenes here and there, notes about cases and all the little tidbits of information he’s picked up about the life of an Auror—but he hesitates to tell her just how productive he’s been with her as his inspiration. She’s not going to want him hanging around the department—and her—any longer than he has to. And anyway, he can’t quite get this new character right. He thinks he’s got a pretty good handle on Hermione-the-Detective-Auror. Hermione-the-person is nearly as much of an enigma as she was when they started this arrangement, and he needs to understand both parts of her to make a well-rounded character.
She gave him an easy out, though. “Still researching,” he says, which really is true. As long as he’s shadowing Hermione, he is definitely still researching. “And we’re still doing publicity for the last Gavin Rain book, so…”
“So I’m stuck with you for a while,” Hermione finishes, but she smiles to take the sting out of her words.
“Yeah, I reckon so.” Ron’s stomach gives an almighty growl, as if he might have forgotten he hasn’t eaten since breakfast, and Hermione chuckles at the noise.
“I better let you get out of here. See you tomorrow?”
Ron frowns at Hermione, who looks ready to dive back into her paperwork as soon as he’s out the door. “When are you leaving?”
“In a few minutes.” Which is Hermione-speak for an hour or more.
“Nope,” Ron protests, getting to his feet. “Come on. It’ll all be here tomorrow. And you haven’t eaten all day, either.”
“I’m fine, Ron, but thank you.”
“I’ll sit here until you leave. Don’t think I won’t.”
Hermione looks at the parchment littering her desk and then up at him. “You would, wouldn’t you?”
“Somebody has to make sure you don’t work yourself to death.” Ron rolls his eyes, but there’s a grain of truth in his statement. All of her coworkers seem to have just accepted that Hermione is a workaholic, and if Ron doesn’t drag her out of the office from time to time, who will? She seems closest to Padma out of anyone, but since she works out of the hospital, she’s not always around to keep an eye on the overworked Auror.
“Fine, fine.” Hermione sighs, but gathers her things without any more fuss. “Do you want to grab some food at the Leaky?”
Despite his best efforts, Ron can’t keep the surprise off his face. Hermione has never seemed inclined to spend time with him outside of an investigation, and now in a span of two days she’s coming to his Halloween party, and she’s asking him to get dinner?
She seems to realize this too, because she adds almost immediately as an excuse, “I don’t need you beating down my door later to make sure that I ate something.”
Even with the stipulation, Ron’s not going to turn down an offer like this. “Sure. Leaky Caludron sounds great.”
***
Once they’re settled into a booth at the pub, Ron lets Hermione take the lead on the conversation. Unsurprisingly, she steers away from anything personal, instead rehashing their current case and the events of the day as they work through matching trays of fish and chips. Hermione orders a second butterbeer as the waitress clears the table of their empty baskets, and Ron smiles to himself. She’s not running for the door; that’s a good sign.
“I just don’t understand the Muggle fascination with all this stuff,” Ron says between sips of his own drink. Their second victim, Conan, was completely committed to the werewolf look—his features, like Thorn’s, had been made to appear realistic, much more elaborate than the average Halloween costume. “Vampires, werewolves…don’t they realize how terrifying these things are? They seem to glamourize it.”
“You have to remember, they don’t know that any of it is real,” Hermione reasons. “It’s fantasy to them. So they find this community, other people who share their interests. It may seem weird to us, but they’re just looking for a place to fit in.”
“I suppose. How do you know so much about all of this?”
Hermione shrugs. “I read a lot.” That’s certainly not a revelation about her, although the range of topics that Hermione apparently covers in her free time is more extensive than Ron might have imagined.
“Okay, but why this? Why the fixation on the macabre?”
“It’s a basic tenet of psychology. They probably had something terrible happen to them when they were younger—saw their dog hit by a car, early loss of a childhood friend…” Hermione sighs. “Or parent.”
Ron’s hand twitches with the urge to reach across the table and take hers, but Hermione would probably hex him into next week. “I get it,” he says instead. “Some people become vampires, and some people become Aurors.”
“Or mystery writers,” she adds with a smirk. She sits forward in the booth, looking at him intently, and Ron is forced to wonder just how affected she is by the drink in her hand. “You know my story. What’s yours?”
The truth is, Ron doesn’t have one—at least, not one that fits the current narrative of past traumatic experiences. Hermione investigates murders because she wants to give closure to the victims’ families. She knows how it feels to lose someone in that way. Although she’s never shared the details with him of what happened to her mum, he knows that for her, this work is deeply personal. How is he supposed to compare that to the way he sees their investigations—just fascinating pieces of a morbid puzzle, put together to suss out the killers’ motivations with the same strategy he uses to stay three moves ahead in chess.
“I wouldn’t want to bore you with it,” he replies evasively. Hermione bites her lower lip but doesn’t press him, as he knew she wouldn’t. She doesn’t like to be pushed about her own personal life, and she won’t do it to him. Ron feels slightly guilty about not giving her a straight answer, but he doesn’t want her to think that he doesn’t take what she does seriously, that he sees it as some kind of game. “So, what’s on the agenda tomorrow?”
“Well…” The disappointment that flashed across Hermione’s face is gone in an instant as she refocuses on the topic of work. “We’ll meet Darren at Scotland Yard in the morning and go from there. Hopefully he can find out something useful about that cold case that Thorn and Conan were researching.”
“Do you think it’s possible it’s all the same killer? Three murders, two decades apart?”
“You ought to know the answer to that by now.” Ron quirks an eyebrow at Hermione, and she smiles as she explains, “Anything is possible.”
***
“You’re never going to believe this,” Darren says by way of greeting the next morning. Scotland Yard is a flurry of activity, and Ron wonders how much of it is related to their case. It can’t be the only active one that the Muggle police are working on, but it’s probably the most interesting. How often do they come across vampires and werewolves, even at Halloween?
“Oh, I think you’d be surprised by what we might believe.” Hermione shoots a wink at Ron, reminding him of their conversation last night. “What did you find out?”
“We ran a background check on Evan’s family. Lucy Fisher is Evan’s stepmother, and Fisher is her maiden name. Roger, his dad, took her name when they got married, and changed Evan’s too. Guess what his last name was before?”
“Monroe!” Ron and Hermione chorus together, and an odd look crosses Darren’s face.
“Er, yeah. Are you two always like this?” He doesn’t wait for an answer before plowing ahead with his information. “The ballistics are a match, too: the same weapon was used to kill Elizabeth Monroe and Phillip Davies, our werewolf.”
“It must have been Roger, then?” Ron theorizes. “He kills his wife, marries another woman, and then his son finds out that Lucy isn’t his real mother. So Roger kills his son and his friend to cover up his first crime when they start looking into it for their thesis. Uses the wooden stake to cast blame on the vampire community. The fake one, that is.” Hermione elbows him hard in the ribs, and Ron hurries to add, “Not that there’s another kind, of course.”
“Smooth,” Hermione mutters.
Darren breezes past Ron’s misstep and nods his agreement. “That’s our working theory at the moment, but unfortunately, we don’t have evidence to tie him to any of the three crime scenes. Fortunately, we’ve got enough for a search warrant, and we’re bringing him in for questioning. Should be here any—”
The lift nearby chimes to announce the arrival of their suspect, led by two uniformed officers and loudly protesting his innocence. Trailing the three of them is an agitated blonde woman, who zeroes in on Darren’s suit and badge before stomping over to them.
“This is an outrage,” Lucy Fisher snaps as she approaches. “We’ve just lost our son, and you people feel the need to drag my husband in here for no reason.”
“With all due respect, ma’am, we’re just trying to get to the bottom of this,” Darren replies, which does nothing to calm her. “Let me have someone show you to the waiting room.”
The woman’s complaints echo all the way down the hall as Darren turns to Hermione. “Want to join me in the interrogation?” Ron barely stops himself from rolling his eyes; could this tosser be any more obvious?
To his surprise, though, Hermione agrees. “Are you okay in the observation room?” she asks Ron. What is he supposed to say to that, though?
“Sure,” he replies through gritted teeth that he hopes look more like a smile. “Mind if I read through the Monroe file while you’re in there?”
Ron’s not sure if it’s normal to hand over confidential police information without question, but Darren eagerly hands him the case folder. “Knock yourself out.”
While Darren and Hermione join their suspect in the interrogation room, Ron enters the adjoining room marked observation. The set up is just like the one back at the Ministry, except of course that the Muggles don’t have the benefit of enchanted glass. Are the suspects really okay with being watched while they’re questioned? That seems odd, but then again, their magical suspects must know too that what appears to be a window to the outside isn’t really, even if they can’t see who’s behind it.
Their voices are loud and clear through a speaker in the corner of the ceiling, and Ron listens to Darren asking the victim’s father basic questions about his son. Tuning out until they get to something more interesting, Ron cracks open the case file. This, on the other hand, grabs his attention immediately.
Elizabeth Monroe’s case was merely a missing person investigation until just a couple of years ago—around the time Evan began his forensic science degree—when her body was discovered near a riverbank in Cookham. Roger was the one who had reported her missing, and the police at the time had looked at him as a suspect, but like now, there was no evidence to indicate he had been involved in his wife’s disappearance.
The timeline seems a bit fuzzy to Ron. If Evan had been raised thinking Lucy was his mother, and he was two years old already when Elizabeth was killed, how soon after that event had Lucy and Roger gotten married? It couldn’t have been long.
He scans the file again. Lucy Fisher gave a statement to the police all those years ago, as—Ron blinks and reads the words again, forcing them to sink in.
She was Evan’s nanny before she became his stepmother. An affair makes perfect sense as a motive for murder. Not just for Roger, but for Lucy, too.
Ron steps over to the window, and waves his hand to get Hermione’s attention. Even though she’s facing him, she doesn’t seem to notice the motion, because she doesn’t acknowledge him in any way. He doesn’t want to interrupt the interrogation, but this could be really important. He gives a soft tap on the glass, and Hermione finally looks in his direction, though her gaze is somewhere over his shoulder.
“Excuse me a minute,” she says to Darren and Roger before pushing back from her seat. She appears in the observation room only a moment later, eyes narrowed at Ron. “What?”
“Don’t be mad, this is important,” Ron says in his defense. “And I tried to wave at you, but you weren’t looking.”
The anger in Hermione’s expression softens. “It’s two-way glass. Muggle technology does the same thing as our illusion charm back at the Ministry.”
“You’re kidding.” Ron turns back to the window and makes a face at Darren, but gets no reaction from the detective. “You really can’t see me at all in there?”
“No. I’ll show you when we’re done. What did you call me out here for?”
Ron holds the folder out to Hermione, open to the page he was just reading. “Lucy Fisher was the family’s nanny when Elizabeth Monroe went missing. If Roger isn’t the one who wanted his wife out of the way…”
“Then it must have been Lucy,” Hermione finishes.
Another Muggle detective pokes his head into the interrogation room to retrieve Darren, and Ron and Hermione walk out to meet him. “We found the murder weapon at their house,” the new detective is saying to Darren. “He’s definitely your killer.”
“Actually, we’re not so sure.” Hermione hands Darren the folder and points out what Ron found about Lucy.
Darren gives the page a quick read and then looks at Ron appraisingly. “Good catch. I see why Hermione likes having you around.”
“He has his moments.” Hermione rolls her eyes at Darren but shoots Ron a sly smile.
“Let’s bring Mrs. Fisher into interrogation room two,” Darren instructs the other detective. “I think she’s got some explaining to do.”
Despite her brazen attitude upon entering the police station earlier that morning, it takes almost no time under the pressure of interrogation for Lucy to break down and confess to all three murders. While Darren’s partner prepares her statement, he exits the room to speak to Ron and Hermione. “Well, that’s another case wrapped up,” he says cheerfully. “I’ll have to do a bit of paperwork, but I can put that off until this afternoon if you two want to go grab some lunch to celebrate.”
This time, Hermione doesn’t bother to confer with Ron before answering. “Actually, we’ve got to be getting back to the Ministry,” she says. “We’ve got a case of our own, I’m afraid. This was fun, though. Another time?”
“Sure. Anytime.” Darren gives Hermione a quick hug and then shakes Ron’s hand before they say goodbye and head for the lifts.
Ron waits until they’re outside on the sidewalk to round on Hermione. “So, when did we pick up another case at the Ministry?”
“We didn’t,” she admits. Though he hasn’t actually won anything, Ron can’t help but feel a sense of triumph.
“You lied to Darren.” The accusation carries almost no weight in Ron’s giddy tone.
“Well, I was thinking about what you said—about Darren fancying me. I still think you’re wrong, but…” Hermione purses her lips to one side and peers up at him. “It’s complicated, isn’t it? Trying to have a personal relationship with someone you work with? Intentions are unclear, the lines get blurry…”
Ron swallows hard. He can’t help but think that she’s talking about more than just Darren. She doesn’t want a relationship outside of work with him any more than she does with the Muggle detective, and this is how she chooses to draw the line.
Before he can obsess over her words, though, Hermione adds in complete contradiction, “Anyway, I’ll see you at your party Saturday? Seven o’clock?”
Merlin’s pants, she makes his head spin sometimes. “Yeah,” Ron says, shaking his head to clear the fog. “Seven’s perfect.”
***
Despite Hermione’s promise that she would see him Saturday, her words bounce around in Ron’s head for the next two days. That’s plenty of time for her to change her mind about coming to the party, though he really hopes she doesn’t.
The townhouse is full of people, but Ron can’t stop watching the front door. Padma isn’t here yet, either; maybe she and Hermione are coming together. Or maybe Hermione convinced her to make alternate plans.
Although he feels like he’s been waiting all night for her to make an appearance, it’s only seven fifteen when the front door opens and Hermione and Padma enter. Padma has taken a topical approach with her costume, dressed in a Muggle-style vampire getup, but other than her unruly brown curls being loose around her face, Hermione is dressed just as Ron sees her every day. Although he’s thrilled to see her, he can’t help but frown at her as he walks over to greet the new arrivals.
“Okay, I’m really glad you’re here, but you’re you.”
“You sound so disappointed,” Hermione replies with a little pout.
“I’m not, but I told you it was a costume party,” Ron argues. “You were supposed to dress up, be scary.”
“Oh.” Hermione affixes her face with a puzzled look while Padma snickers behind her. “You didn’t say scary. I decided to go for sexy.”
“You—” Ron’s throat goes dry as Hermione reaches for the button of her coat. What the hell is she wearing under there? Had she changed her mind about the Naughty Nurse outfit?
He’s so transfixed watching her undo the buttons that when she pulls her coat open and a giant stuffed spider jumps out at him, he leaps a foot into the air and lets out a startled scream. Hermione and Padma double over, howling with laughter.
“I’m going to get you back for this,” Ron warns, shuddering as he looks at the toy spider skittering across the floor.
Hermione grins as she sidles up to him. His heart is pounding from the adrenaline of her scare, and her being this close to him is not doing anything to slow his pulse. He’s not complaining, though, as Hermione stands on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear.
“And you said I don’t know how to have fun.”