Breaking Heaven

Chapter 1

The air is thick with heat and a mist of sweat that clings to my skin like a glove, coating me and making me feel heavy and slothful as I swirl my drink with the delicate black straw while observing the other patrons in the bar. I can feel my hair, a wild mane of brunette curls on a good day, growing with the humidity that seems to encompass the booth I've secluded myself in. I'm content to let my companions hog the spotlight and energy for themselves as they burn off their anxieties and excitements from the work week. Inclined to remain rooted to the spot, I let the world race by in a blur of color and noise and just let my thoughts come to a grinding halt to stop the fracturing of my mind at the utter humiliation of the week.

I arrived here hours ago with a group of about ten of my friends. They indulged me for a while by hanging out with me in the extra large U-shaped booth. They'd laughed and carried on until the food service ended and the lights dropped, signaling a shift in the night from dinner-time merriment to rowdy fun. It didn't take long before they'd then quickly vacated to go off and hit up the bar. They flirt with the new patrons arriving for the night scene, and some have gone to dance on the small floor the bar offers. They'd tried, for a short time, to entice me out of the booth to join them. But when a few minutes of trying didn't work they'd eventually left me here to mope in seclusion.

I'm not usually the type of mope about in public. Hermione Granger does not present any image less than that of a professional, composed woman who has her shit decidedly in order. I've always been the voice of reason within my group of friends, many of whom I've known since secondary school. So my decidedly grumpy demeanor tonight is something they're not sure how to handle, so they're leaving me to it. I'm not sure if I'm grateful, or annoyed as hell.

A flash of platinum blonde hair catches my eye, causing my heart to leap into my throat and my fingers to instinctually clutch the cup in my grasp. I've been on edge all day, wondering if he would make good on the promise he'd made just a few days ago, the last time I'd seen him. With each flash of blonde hair out of the corner of my eye, my mind instantly goes into defense mode. I've been slow around each corner, sure he'll be around one of them. But a moment later the head of hair shifts, revealing a pretty girl wearing far too much eye makeup. My shoulders relax, the tension draining out as quickly as it had arrived. I hastily bring the glass to my lips, pulling in a large swallow of the burning, acidic drink that had matched my mood perfectly when we'd arrived. I am on edge and utterly broken, never before feeling as lost and uncertain as today.

"We can't excuse this critical lapse in judgement. Your actions, or lack thereof, have resulted in the endangerment of the entire city. You failed to intervene at the most important moment presented to you. We have no choice, I'm afraid, but to place you on administrative leave until the board can further review the case files and determine a more permanent course of action."

Bile rises in my throat again at just the memory of the incredibly uncomfortable, humiliating meeting with the dean. Critical lapse in judgement. Failed to intervene. I'd never in my wildest dreams believed the comments of a supposedly ill man were anything more than his deepest wishes, that I needed to actually warn people about what he'd promised. I thought it was just the wishful thinking of a man angry at the one person he thought he could trust. I'd felt so guilty, sick to my stomach for the rest of the day for the abandonment he surely believed had taken place. I'd been ill afterward, unsure if I'd just saved myself or damned us both. I had been a fool. He'd played me well. Terrifyingly well. And as a result I'm nearly out of a job and, as much as I will never admit it to a soul, frightened within an inch of my life.

"You're killing yourself," he growls. "You'll never make it out of that life alive."

"I'm afraid my life is no longer your concern."

"I'll find you, Granger. And when I do, your life as you know it is over."

Somehow, over all the music and general cacophony of the evening crowd, I hear a barking laugh that shoots daggers of guilt and pain through my heart. I glance across the room toward where some of my friends are converged on a small dance floor to see a head of red hair thrown back in laughter, taller than almost everyone in the room. Even if his hair didn't blaze despite the dim light, and even if he didn't stand so tall to everyone, I'd be able to pick him out of any crowd. He's allowed me that. To understand and know him so deeply I can pick out his soul amid a sea of thousands. And I've been locked up inside my heart and lying to him for months in thanks for the openness he shares with me.

"You can't just sit here all night, you know."

I start, turning toward the voice that's torn me from my musing. Brilliant green eyes flash behind glasses slightly fogged from the room's atmosphere as they survey me worriedly. His jet black hair, already disheveled from a night out, is made worse when he run his fingers through the damp locks to coax away sweat from his forehead.

"Because you make being out there look like so much fun," I tease half-heartedly, taking in the jogger jacket thrown over his shoulder and the trace amounts of dampness on his shirt showing the evidence of dancing in a warm room. "I've had a long day, Harry. All I want to do is sit here and have a nice, relaxing drink in a room loud enough where I can't hear myself think."

Harry Potter is one the very few people in the world that I know I truly love beyond a shadow of a doubt. We'd met when I transferred to his school at the start of secondary school following one of the most traumatic periods of my life. While he'd already made several friends during primary school, I arrived knowing no one. I was that weird new girl in school with a chip on her shoulder, and smack dab in the most awkward years of my life. Big, bushy, dull brown hair, crooked front teeth adorned with brand new braces, and more than a little skinny. To make matters worse, I'd quickly caused problems for myself by making it obvious I was highly intelligent for my age. Some teachers were thrilled with my thirst for knowledge, while others found me tedious. But every student found me insufferable. Including Harry and his best friend, Ron Weasley. But when they'd overheard a group of girls planning to ambush me in the bathroom they intervened just before the girls had managed to harm me and we'd developed a close friendship after that had endured over 15 years. It was the first time someone had shown an interest in my well being in a long time, and I cannot begin to describe the feeling it gave me beyond saying it felt like my heart caught its first real breath of fresh air. They became my protectors and I their guide through the more logical components of life...like school essays. We're more than friends. We're family.

Our bond has been tested over the years, particularly over the last six as Harry and Ron's work in the Organized Crime division of the UK's National Crime Agency has grown. They've been taking down several large pockets of gang groups distributing enormous quantities of drugs into the metropolis. Harry is particularly driven to success by the death of his parents. They were murdered on orders from a man known as Lord Voldemort. A man named Tom Riddle had dubbed himself 'Lord Voldemort' when he started his gang known as the Death Eaters. Harry's parents were involved in undercover work to bring down Tom and his Death Eaters. They had been ransacking London, tearing the city apart with drugs and violence when Harry's parents and fellow officers had successfully infiltrated the ranks of the Death Eaters, even convincing several of them to turn against Tom.

Tom got wind and went into hiding, but not before he got word of the hit out. Harry's parents had their identity compromised by another investigator who had been paid off by Tom. They were murdered the same night all traces of Tom disappeared.

Harry learned the story at the tender age of eleven from his godfather, Sirius. Sirius had been best mates with Harry's parents. They'd assigned Sirius the duty of godfather when Harry was born, knowing how dangerous the line of work was. Harry was forced to live with his horrible aunt and uncle when his parent's will couldn't be located. It wasn't long after Sirius finally got custody of Harry after years of trials and appeals that he told Harry the full story of his parents death. Once Harry learned the truth, he set his sights on revenge. While Tom's absence has made the Death Eaters quiet, a nuisance more than an outright problem, Harry hasn't ever stopped looking for signs of Tom.

Pursuing a career in law enforcement became personal to him, and drove him all the way to the top. Ron's parents had also worked for the NCA, but they were involved more in strategy plans rather than in actual field work. Ron was there the day Harry found out what happened to his parents, and promised to help Harry however he could. He's been by Harry's side the entire time. It's made them the top investigative officers within the Organized Crime division, something I was proud to help them achieve.

My own primary field of work is psychiatry, specifically for the government's high security psychiatric facility, Brockington Manor. My specialty is the criminally insane and disturbed. When I'm available and the need is present, I work as a consultant for the NCA. My main duty is to analyze the behavior of criminals to determine their motives and weaknesses, or really any information to help other intelligence officers. Because of the nature of their job and mine, Harry, Ron, and myself frequently work together on cases. Particularly when one of their undercover operatives reports in and they need information and conversations analyzed, as well as providing feedback to operatives on how they should behave and response is a variety of situations they may be faced with.

The Death Eaters have been active again for the last year, causing Harry and Ron to work extra hours, and more than once things have gotten sticky when several of their operatives' identities were almost compromised. And just last night there was a breakout from Brockington Manor, my place of employment. Included in the list of missing convicts are three Death Eaters Harry and Ron have worked hard to put away. Its part of the reason we're out tonight. Harry and Ron are waiting for information from the investigation Brockington is currently investigating. Rather than pacing the floor at home, they suggested we go out under the pretense of trying to cheer me up.

Harry sighs, dropping into the booth next to me and picking up his beer to tip the bottle back for a swig before saying, "I know this is hard for you, Hermione. Those gits at Brockington are just embarrassed and looking for a scapegoat. Once they do a formal review you know they'll have to admit you didn't do anything wrong. There was no way you could have known what he was planning. Just enjoy your vacation and relax a little bit." He turns and looks back at our group of friends before saying, "Ron's a shit dancer without you."

Ron. My heart seizes again. My incredibly patient, innocent, ignorant Fiancé. I glance toward him again, finding him easily enough with his splash of red hair, seeing he is indeed floundering without my assistance. While we are by no means the perfect dancing duo, I agree we indeed do better when together. It is the way our relationship generally works.

Ron and I had fought most of secondary school, our teenage personalities never quite falling into sync. Whenever there were fights they were always between me and Harry or me and Ron. The boys almost never fought with each other, but they frequently butted heads with me over perceived slights or arguments about intentions to break rules, something they did often. But Ron and I especially were at odds, his easy-going, joking nature something that rubbed my logical mind so strongly I'm surprised we didn't kill each other through school. That was, until something changed at about fifteen years old, when I became more aware of the attractive qualities my friend possessed. His fierce protectiveness of his family, as well as Harry and myself. And the compassion towards smaller, more vulnerable creatures that a man develops with maturity. He'd often made fun of me for volunteering at our local animal shelter, and my insistence on becoming a vegetarian. But one day, he offered to come with me to the shelter to help the staff with their daily cleaning. And the next night, when the three of us had been hanging out after school, he'd told me he'd found a restaurant with vegetarian dishes we should all hit up so I could eat a real meal when we ate out for once. And finally, something snapped into place at the end of secondary school, when suddenly our years of bickering just didn't seem to make sense anymore as we entered the adult world. We'd begun dating intensely, with a complete and utter adoration for each other that comes after years of denying you feel anything at all.

"I'm not really in the mood, Harry," I say in a decidedly dejected tone, turning back to swirl my drink again. "I don't want to weigh everyone down tonight, but I can't bare to be home alone. And I'm trying to put on a brave face for Ron. So go, have fun. I'm okay, I promise." I say the last part with a small smile, lifting my glass in a half-hearted cheering gesture before bringing it to my lips for another solid swallow.

"Oi," comes a shout, "Harry, we've got to go!"

Glancing up, I see Ron shoving his way through the crowd, oblivious to the glares he receives from the other patrons as he jostles their arms and, by extension, spilling their drinks. He arrives to our booth a moment later, mopping back his sweaty red hair in a gesture remarkably similar to the one Harry has just performed.

"McGonagall called, we have an emergency briefing. Now."

Harry curses, turning his wrist to glance at the watch he never takes off, a gift from his godfather after graduation. "She knows it's almost midnight on a Saturday, right? I didn't think she'd call til morning."

Ron nods, rolling his eyes. "Her exact message was, 'I don't care how sloshed you are. 911.'"

Harry curses again, pulling his jacket off his shoulder and shoving an arm in. "I'll grab Ginny."

At that exact moment, a pretty little redhead with fierce features and kind brown eyes pops up beside him, putting a hand on his elbow. Harry's fiancée, Ginny. "No need," she yells, smiling broadly. "Ron already told me. Ain't no rest for the wicked?"

Harry gives her a broad smile before bending to plant a kiss on her cheek, a sweet gesture between two people who know each other better than they know themselves. "Isn't it the truth?"

Ron turns blue eyes to me, apology written all over his face. "I'm sorry," he says, sliding into the booth beside me. "I know this is the worst night for this all to happen."

I shrug, shaking my glass slightly to make the ice inside tinkle as I look away from Ginny and Harry, their normally sweet devotion too much for me lately. A reminder of the person I haven't been in months. "It's alright, I'm not much fun tonight anyway,"

Harry stops pulling on his jacket to give me a confused look. "Aren't you coming?"

I shook my head. "No," I say, slamming the glass down hard on the table. "McGonagall sent me an official email this morning. My consultation services are suspended until Brockington's investigation is done."

Minerva McGonagall is the Director of the Organized Crime department. She's Harry and Ron's boss, and the person I report to for my consultation services with the NCA. She's a fierce woman, and a force to be reckoned with. Being on her bad side is a place no one ever wants to be. The email from her this morning cut even deeper than my suspension from Brockington Manor.

Harry's throat bobs as he swallows all the things he wants to say as he shoves his second arm through his jacket. "I didn't know that. We'll talk to her."

Ron nods in agreement, leaning over to press a kiss to my neck as he reaches for his jacket. "I'm not sure what all this will entail, love." He leans back with his worn denim jacket firmly in his fist to look me square in the eyes before asking, "Do you want us to run you two girls home before we head there?"

"Of course not," Ginny says quickly, pulling Ron from the booth by his arm. "We're not done. The night is still young!" Once she's pulled Ron out of the way she slides in next to me, nudging a shoulder into mine as she continues. "I called the Harpies, told them you two were bailing on us. They're at a bar on Knoxboro. We're going to meet up with them!"

I see Ron and Harry wince, expecting me to politely, but firmly, decline. While I enjoy imbibing from time to time, I am far from the party girl the Hollyhead Harpies are. The Hollyhead Harpies are a football team based in London, and they do quite well competitively. Ginny is their captain, although her antics are usually more tame than what trouble they get into in their own when she's not there to rein them in. Ginny dragged me along once for a night out, and has never successfully done so since. It just wasn't my scene. Luckily being so closely involved with a member of The NCA means she has to keep a cool head when celebrating with her teammates, so she doesn't pester me often to join. She's too busy ensuring they don't draw too much attention to themselves to make sure I'm having a good time.

But tonight, I sit up a bit straighter and I stare straight ahead, contemplating just how numbing of an experience it could be to let go and be a bit wild with my friend without the pressure of Ron and Harry constantly checking in on me. I lift my glass again quickly and tip it back smoothly, the ice clinking against my teeth unpleasantly as I finish my drink in one smooth gulp. I slam it down again and turn to Ginny, forcing a broad smile on my face as I say, "Sure, Gin. Let's go. The boys can drop us on the way."

Ginny throws her head back in a mighty laugh, grabbing her clutch from the top of the table and slinging it over her shoulder. "I'll go let the others know we're taking off. I promise I won't tell them where we're going," she says quickly at my startled expression. "No need to add to the Harpie mayhem."

She slides from the booth and quickly grabs Harry's hand as she pushes through the crowd, making her way toward the dance floor where the rest of our small group of friends are gathered laughing and joking. Harry throws a concerned look at me over his shoulder before Ginny drags him into the crowd.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" Ron asks me as I slide to the edge of the booth, searching for the purse I know had been sitting on the bench beside me just a moment ago. "You don't have to indulge her just because she's my sister."

Ginny is only a year younger than us, but in the beginning of her own start in secondary school it felt like she was just a little kid. She often trailed along behind us, desperate to be included. She'd had a crush on Harry for years, but as we went through school she seemed to grow out of the all-consuming obsession most girls have with their first crush. Somehow, she became a part of our group of friends instead of the annoying kid sister. Her sense of adventure and honesty had made her a cherished friend to me, and had charmed Harry thoroughly as we'd grown. They'd started dating about a year before Ron and I had. But despite that, Ron still sees her as his annoying kid sister sometimes.

I turn to give Ron a stern look as my fingers finally connect to the small red handbag I favor for busy nights out. "I'm not indulging her, Ronald. If you really must go into work while I'm forced to stay behind, I'm going to find some way to keep myself busy."

I slide from the booth, coming to my feet directly in front of him. My breasts brush against his chest pleasantly as I do so, causing Ron to reach around and wrap his arms around my waist to pull me closer.

I continue, "It is, of course, not my usual choice of entertainment. But I'm in the mood for it tonight. And Ginny's thrilled," I say with a laugh, watching my friend come bouncing back across the floor excitedly with Harry in tow. He's got two bottles of water in one hand to assist with the sobering up he has to do on their way in to the office. I'll have to remind Ron to swing by a gas station to pick up some cheap coffee to speed the process up.

Ron turns to see his sister hustling back over in a blur of excitement, then rolls his eyes. When he's looking at me again, his eyes are concerned. "You're sure you're alright?"

I shrug. "As much as I can be, having been unofficially fired." It's almost cathartic to say the word out loud. Fired. It burns on the way past my lips, almost as if the sting of the word bubbles out as I speak it. Like sucking poison from a wound.

Ron scowls, his expression going dark. "That slimy git. I can't believe they're holding you responsible for what happened. Like you were supposed to know what goes on in that twisted little mind of his when everyone else before you couldn't."

I pull back quickly from Ron, his words somehow burning my soul. As angry as I am about the entire scenario, it still makes me uncomfortable to hear Ron talk about him that way. "It's not that simple," I say, turning away to grab my own jacket from where it is slung over the back of the booth. "There's more to it than I can tell you."

Ron's expression hardens at my words, as it has every other time the last 18 hours that he's peppered me with questions. "I don't see why that is. This is officially a public safety concern. Patient-Doctor confidentiality is moot when lives are in danger."

I snap my head around, shooting him a glare I normally reserve for fights in private. "My job is at risk enough as it is. You know I can't tell you anything until the Brockington lawyers and McGonagall's minions work out the legalities. Until a judge tells me otherwise, I'm not violating my oath."

Ron is about to make a retort I am sure I will find infuriating, but I'm saved by the arrival of Harry and Ginny. Harry, sensing the tension surrounding us, slaps Ron hard on the shoulder to draw his attention. "Should we get going before McGonagall has our balls?"

Ron snorts, rolling his shoulder to dislodge Harry's hand. "Yeah," he says roughly, reaching for my hand. "Let's drop these girls off for their fun so we can go have a cane brought against our asses."

Harry chuckles, taking Ginny's hand to lead the way out of the bar. "At least we're sloshed. Ass tearing is easier to take when you're sloshed."

"You're sloshed," Ron asserts with an eye roll. "I'm the driver. I'll be completely cognizant to the whole messy affair." He pulls me after them, and I find I'm decidedly unsteady on my feet. I glance back to the booth, surprised to see several glasses with tiny black stir sticks and three strawberry stems inside each of them. I'd apparently indulged a bit more than I originally thought.

I wobble on my feet again, my heels just a touch too tall for the amount of alcohol coursing through me. Ron turns back to look at me, concern coming over his expression. "You sure you're okay to go out? We don't mind dropping you at home. It's on our way."

I shake my head, forcing my feet to cooperate as I push past him, pulling my hand free. "I'm fine," I insist. "Let's just get out of here."

I hear Ron sigh as we exit the bar, following Harry and Ginny into the crisp October air. I pull my handbag open, digging a clumsy hand inside before coming out with keys jingling between my fingers. I dangle them in the air for a moment before dropping them into Ron's waiting hand as he strides by, heading toward the sleek blue Lexus I'd bought myself as a present for my new job at Brockington. The salesman had been beside himself when I'd told him I was there to by myself a fancy car as a special treat to myself. It's the car we take out most often, as I get a small, smug thrill showing it off. I don't let Ron drive it much because frankly I look better driving it and it's mine, but I'd known tonight I wouldn't be in any sort of state to drive. Ron had quickly agreed to be the designated driver when the opportunity to drive the Lexus was presented.

Harry and Ginny climb in back while I slide into the passenger seat. After clicking my seatbelt into place I instantly kick off my heels and shove my feet under the cool air kicked out of foot vents when Ron starts the car. Ginny squeals as the rush of air that had been warm when we'd exited the car suddenly shoots an icy cold breeze on our faces. I sigh, pushing my feet as close to the vent under the dash as I can to cool their inflammation before the night of dancing that lays ahead. I've worn heels more often the last few months, especially for work, but I'm still not used to being on my feet in them for multiple hours in a row.

Once we are on the road, Ron and Harry begin discussing the possible reasons for their boss to call a meeting so suddenly tonight instead of waiting til morning. I'm barely listening to their discussion, knowing for the foreseeable future I have no role to play in their investigations.

The ride to Knoxboro Way is a short one, only about a five minute drive from the bar we'd been at the majority of the night. When we pull up Harry and Ginny climb out as I slide my slightly less swollen feet back into my heels with a bit of regret before slithering out of the car. I relish the feel of the car's leather against my bare legs and bottom as my skirt flows behind me on the seat while I slide out, the leather cool enough and the drive short enough that my legs don't stick to them like they usually do. Once I am out of the car I stride around to Ron's window to lean through and give him a kiss.

"Be careful with my baby, okay?" I say, stroking the soft leather interior of the car gently through the window. "Park her in the underground lot when you get to my place so she's safe. Don't be lazy parking her in the street."

Ron chuckles, leaning toward me to plant a soft kiss on my lips. I reach up to run a finger over the smattering of freckles on his nose and cheeks as he says, "You got it, babe."

"You don't want us to pick you guys back up?" Harry asks over Ginny's shoulder as she peppers kisses along the column of his neck. "This might not take long."

"Absolutely not," Ginny mutters against his skin before pulling away. "You guys are abandoning us so this is now officially a ladies night. We'll take a cab home and see you then."

"You sure you're okay with this?" Ron asks me softly, his eyes almost pleading with me to let him take me home.

In answer, I merely roll my eyes and strut away toward the curb with Ginny following behind as Harry slides into the passenger seat I've abandoned. I don't look back, and I hear Ron squeal my tires in retaliation for the slight. I'm sure he's laughing at my outrage, and I make a mental note to leave burn marks on his ass later for the mistreatment of my baby.

.x.x.x.

Hello everyone! After several, several years of a hiatus this is my first story since coming back. This story is currently halfway done, and will be updated fairly regularly.

This story WILL have mentions of past sexual abuse, although they are relatively few and far between. However it will play a role in several of the chapters. I will post warnings before each chapter, so please be sure to read any warnings before diving into the world I'm rather proud of.

Reviews are welcome, and encouraged! This story is currently unbeta'd, so any mistakes are mine.