Chapter 3: Suspicious Minds & Open Spirits

Author's Note: Story depicted may be unpalatable to sensitive readers for its portrayal of Hermione and Ron's relationship. Hermione may also not be likeable to readers. Some readers might consider the characters a little OOC. Some organisations and Ministry of Magic departments are made-up.

It would help readers following the story to view it as a 'cinematic' experience whereby there are shifts in perspectives, as well as shifts between flashbacks, the past, the present, dreams and reality within the space of one chapter.

Footnotes follow chapter.

Emphasises are italicised and book titles are underlined.

From the Blood of the Gorgon

Chapter 3 – Suspicious Minds & Open Spirits

Fate, being a fickle woman, always endeavoured to prove probability wrong. By the very next day, Fate had moved to crush Hermione's prognosis. Doubtlessly, Fate was colluding with her sister, Fortune to confound logic, Arithmancy and probability. Why else would they choose that very moment to bring Hermione's attention to that which she had stated on the very previous evening was highly improbable? Blind Fortune would not see the justice in Hermione's plans where her personal life was concerned. Similarly, deaf Fortune would not listen to her when she tried to avert the trouble she knew would be approaching. And what if they could hear her? They are wilfully mad north, northwest. They would not pity her. Indeed, Fortune and Fate had chosen the very next day to make sport of Hermione from the first moment she stepped into Chambers.

She had just walked in and had only this minute retrieved a brief from her pigeonhole when she overheard a remarkable conversation. It was a conversation that reinforced her opinion that Fate could not be controlled or manipulated. Her senior clerk, Melvin Summerby, had apparently just come down the side passage, which faced away from the corner with the pigeonholes. He had evidently made his way downstairs with someone as he was in earnest conversation with another person, who was making the most laconic of commonplace remarks. In the monosyllabic answers, she discerned that the person's patience was wearing thin as there was the slightest suggestion of exasperation in his smooth but biting tone. Hermione realised with a faint chuckle that the unfortunate newcomer was desirous of escaping from the company of the senior clerk when he ventured a, "Danke for the tour, Herr Summerby. May I ask where my pupil-master is?"

At which point, Hermione recognised the voice as the young man she had quite literally collided into the previous evening. She rolled her eyes at the thought of Fate playing a trick on her by defying the laws of probability. Her curiosity to learn more about the new pupil however made her remain well-hidden.

"Pupil-master!" gasped Summerby in disbelief, and Hermione could almost see the senior clerk's large moustache quivering in suspended shock.

"Ja, my pupil-master, this Herr H. Granger," the young man replied smoothly. "Is he in court? Will he be back sometime in the afternoon."

The slight squeaking sounds from feet in highly polished shoes shifting their weight uncertainly from one foot to another informed Hermione that the poor senior clerk was trying very hard to contain himself by tugging at his lustrously pomaded moustache. "As it is your first day in Chambers, even if it is your second six, I think it best you get to know all the partners and barristers first," he stated a little pompously. "We are a small close-knit group. We have eight barristers here. Of these, the more prominent ones are Mr Anthony Goldstein, Miss Padma Patil, Mr Lee Jordan, Miss Daphne Greengrass, and our Head of Chambers, who is the person you call your pupil-master."

"Do you call all the ladies 'Miss' even though they may not be of that status?" enquired the dark-haired German.

Hermione could almost hear Summerby nodding furiously in his response. "Yes, it's something that we do here. Part of the culture at Chiswell Square."

"What is the Head of Chambers like?" asked the newcomer rather suddenly as if eager to change the topic.

"A fine figure of a woman – petite, handsome, and sharp," came the ready reply, and a slight sound of a cough that Hermione took to be part of Summerby's attempt to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively.

"Nein!" His voice rang out in self-annoyance. "My mistake for not realising it is a 'She'. What is she like as a barrister?"

"Very knowledgeable on all points of law, specialises in criminal law, does intellectual property as well, handles the international cases for the Wizarding War Crimes Tribunal at the Hague herself, very strong-willed, intelligent, capable, and not afraid to tell you off if you've done something wrong. You must know all this already. She's famous in the UK for being part of the Golden Trio with Harry Potter and her husband, Ronald Weasley."

"She was in a band before becoming a lawyer?" asked the pupil with genuine curiosity. "What kind? Rock or Pop?"

"You mean you really don't know," gasped the senior clerk, apparently aghast at this young man's ignorance of his illustrious Head of Chambers' role in the war against Voldemort.

"Of course I don't know any British popular culture, I'm German!" exclaimed he indignantly.

Realising the new pupil had been tortured long enough, Hermione emerged from her hiding place behind the pigeonholes and sauntered before the conversing men. Fortunately for her, she had had sufficient time to school her features into a mask of indifference, and she pretended not to recognise the younger wizard. "Good morning, Melvin," she greeted as if she had just come in and had just picked up her briefs.

"Speak of the devil. There she is! Miss, this is the new pupil from Wittenberg under the Schengen Wizarding Law scheme," announced Summerby as Hermione bestowed a curt nod to the stranger. "And this, young man, is our Head of Chambers."

"Hermione Jean Granger," stated the dark-haired wizard clearly.

"Good job, Melvin," said Hermione with a laugh. "You told him my full name!"

"No, I didn't," objected Summerby warily. I did not mention your name at all, and he could not have seen it from the listings on the wall either."

Hermione, who knew it to be true as she was listed simply as 'H. Granger' took it all in her stride and bade the pupil follow her into her office. "You have done your research well, Mr..."

"von Bastiae, Perseuss von Bastiae," he replied with a bow. "I didn't do any research before coming here. It just came to me."

An indulgent smile was cast upon him. "If you do not want to admit your sources, that is fine by me."

"But I really didn't... Nevermind," he sighed in resignation.

Although she had wanted to say something with regard to his time as a pupil in her Chambers, she found herself unable to speak. Bereft of the power of speech, she could only look at him with mild uncertainty. He looked perfectly serious when he said he had not conducted research on Chiswell Square and its inhabitants before arriving. He looked like an upright young man, and she felt in her soul and mind that he had been speaking the truth. The more she analysed the facts as she saw them, the more she realised he was speaking the truth. After all, had she not been privy to the conversation between him and Melvin Summerby? Did she not overhear him saying he had no idea of the Golden Trio or of their role in the war against Voldemort? If he had known about her as part of the Golden Trio then he would have known her full name and her affiliation to Chiswell Square. However, since he professed genuine ignorance – and Hermione was a keen advocate of giving someone reasonable doubt, she was obliged to believe him. Furthermore, all the existing evidence indicated that he really did not know who she was. Yet, she was disturbed. Just who was he that he knew her full name? She had never bothered to use her name except in official forms for the Ministry of Magic, so how did the young man before know what he did? He certainly did not use Legilimency otherwise she would have felt the pressure of his mind boring into hers. So, how did he know?

Given her present circumstances, she did not have the luxury to dwell on her speculations. She had to give the obligatory preparatory talk to all new pupils. Thus, she called on her mind to remind calm and focused, and dismissed any further nonsensical thought. Quickly masking her silence by grabbing his file from the papers on her desk, she glanced through it. He had studied Wizarding law in Wittenberg, and because he wished to practice in the International Wizarding Courts of Justice (IWCJ), he had to have the perquisite training in a British legal institution. Under the Wizarding Agreement for Schengen Countries (WASC), law students from non-British countries expressing a desire to practice international law would be despatched to either the legal department within Ministry of Magic in the UK or one of the UK's top legal Chambers, or both, to spend some time learning the ropes.

There had been nothing to blush for in his file. His academic records at the Faculty of Wizarding Law in Wittenberg University were excellent; his pupil-master of the Bavarian firm of Erodelbmud and Ardnek had written a glowing recommendation letter, and his first six at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement where he was but lately granted permission to shadow a pupil-master from Hermione's Chambers.

To her amusement, when she closed his file and looked up again, she found him sitting in a defensive position with his legs firmly crossed, his posture rigidly erect, the fingers of hands laced tightly together on his knee, and a face looking straight at her.

"Nervous?" She asked with a knowing smile. "Don't be. There's always a first time for everything. I am going to ask you a few questions. This is not an interview so you do not have to worry about screwing up."

Perseuss nodded stiffly.

Taking that as indication she should continue, Hermione ran through the list of what pupils were expected to do in her Chambers, and reminded him repeatedly that she did not like it if he were to go cutthroat on another barrister's client, especially if the barrister was from the same Chambers. She advocated winning cases quietly with style than losing spectacularly with a lot of noise. He apparently shared her sense of work ethics as he added his own examples as to what constituted cutthroat behaviour.

Very pleased with his general manners, Hermione went on, "So we handle cases for presentation in the Old Bailey and the Crown Courts; occasionally, our solicitors from Strauss and Leibniz bring us cases for the IWCJ. Because of that knowledge in Latin would be useful. I know you are already proficient in Muggle Law from your records. But what I want to know is whether you fluent in Latin, Herr von Bastiae?"

He answered in the negative by shaking his head. "Other than German and English, I don't know any other languages. But I can learn; I will learn."

"I'm sure you will," said Hermione with an encouraging smile. "It's not quite my thing either, but the old fogies in the Hague who head the IWCJ keeps all its minutes, notes and documents in Latin even though the trials and hearings are always held in English. If you are fluent in Latin, at least with reading knowledge of it, you will progress far in International Wizarding Law. It saves you the time of having to find someone to translate the documents for you. You do understand that when you are given cases of your own, they will deal essentially with Wizarding company law or Wizarding trade law. They will give you the grounding you need. When you do not have your own cases, you are to help your pupil-master, and take your lead from her. Any questions?"

Once again, he shook his head.

"You're an intelligent young man, Herr von Bastiae, you will do well," she suddenly felt compelled to say. "Work hard, work smart, and who knows? Our Chambers may welcome you as a valued barrister when your pupillage lapses. You may return to Anthony Goldstein's and Lee Jordan's office, the junior clerks will have set up a desk for you there. If you have any questions do not hesitate to ask me or one of the barristers, or if you cannot find any of us, feel free to ask Melvin Summerby. Our senior clerk may be very talkative, but he knows all the twists and turns of the law."

He rose, bowed and was prepared to take his leave when he stopped at the archway of the door. Placing his hand firmly on the door knob, Hermione thought she heard him sigh. As he did not turn around, she did not know whether she had imagined it. She chose to remain and observe him. "Are you ill? Do you need help?"

"I am just a little giddy that's all," he replied curtly in a near hiss with his back still facing her. "Please call me Perseuss, I would prefer it."

"Very well, Perseuss," obliged Hermione as she opened the brief she had collected from the pigeonhole earlier that morning. "Perhaps you can tell me whether we have met before? You seem very familiar to me."

At which comment, he turned around sharply on his heels. "Nein," he answered thoughtfully, watching her take notes as she read. "Other than yesterday in front of Rotten Row Books and Tamsiq Books, we have never met." He paused, and Hermione felt his eyes staring at her as if hesitating as to whether he should probe her mind. She smirked in between her writing with the knowledge that he was a Legilimens – an ethical one, thank goodness. "But, I think you should know, Miss Granger, I also feel that you are very familiar and I do not know why."

"Ah yes, thank you for sharing. I think Tony Goldstein should be back by now and Lee would be lounging around playing his vintage 'Game Boy', you will want to pay your formal respects to them," she said by way of dismissal.

"Danke for talking to me," he muttered.

She then felt him and nod and leave her office, shutting the door quietly behind him. Alone again, Hermione steepled her fingers in thought and stared at the closed door with a furrowed brow. Was it fate that led her to meet Perseuss von Bastiae? Or was fate trying to tell her something with this vague sense of déjà vu? Given that it had overturned her calculations as to the probability of seeing him again after the previous day's accidental meeting, she was beginning to think human beings could not fully control fate. Here she was, a product of the Voldemort era, and she had experienced the horrors of his administration over Wizarding Britain because he had wanted to control his fate.

Coincidentally, Muggle Britain had been also undergoing great political upheaval at the time. The government's emphasis on biotechnology and biomedical research at the cost of other infrastructural projects had invited widespread criticism, and when the research did not yield any tangible benefits for humanity, the project was condemned. Muggles began to doubt the validity and relevance of science and technology and so on. It was similar in the Wizarding world where magic, which was previously seen as a convenient way of extending one's life and ability to improve wizarding lives, came to be seen as a way of proscribing certain ways of life for the so-called good of the many. However these things that were supposed for the good of the many led many within the wizarding community to question the validity and relevance of magic in every aspect of their lives. Even in all this talk about stem cell research amongst Muggles, and using Magic to defy the aging process amongst wizards, people are having debates whether it is "right" for man (be he Muggle or Wizard) to interfere in nature and whether man is going against the plan of Nature.

Hermione smirked to herself again. Like it or not, these sorts of issues facing the Wizarding and Muggle worlds today always elicited political responses. The delicious irony is that in spite of their mutual fear and mistrust of each other, Muggles (at least those aware of their magical brethren) and Wizards now have something in common, viz., they now share certain doubts as to whether human beings can have absolute control/rights over nature. "Strange, isn't it?" she mumbled, resting her head back in the chair. "Muggles and Wizards are alike, yet the Ministry likes to paint them as different. What about those of us straddling both worlds? What are we then?"

The irony of it all was not lost on Hermione as she conversed with her solicitor, Charles Warrington on a case he wanted her Chambers to take. Their conversation found that regardless as to whether one was Muggle or Wizard, the modern predilection was doubting the things that bring each society progress – in the case of the Muggles, science and technology, and in the case of the wizards, magic. Regardless as to whether one was Muggle or Wizard, it remains that one's values of the world are formed by some kind of tradition, be it belief in God, or belief in the power of Nature. An understanding of this tradition states that man cannot be the master on his own. That is of course the biblical account and the traditional druidic pro-nature wizarding account. The ancient Greek wizards had a similar account where they melded Muggle learning and beliefs with their own belief system in nature. They too had their doubts as to whether human beings had the wisdom or the knowledge to be able to control the outside world. Why couldn't they see it then? Why couldn't they see that both the Muggle biblical account and that of the ancient Greek wizarding accounts had already stated that human beings were unable to resolve their political and social problems by themselves? Hermione shuddered, as she thought on the matter – for here she was considering whether she could change her fate and that of her late Potions Master while ostensibly trying to the worm the truth of Warrington's motivation in coming to her.

She was so absorbed in discussing matters through with Warrington that neither party heard the floo chime in her office. Instead, she continued to ponder as to that which lay at the heart of the prospective client's desire to change his fate. So what if he had sought to combine science and magic? How could that be deemed illegal by the Ministry of Magic? Those two subjects were more closely aligned than the older generation of wizards thought., Science and Magic had that impetus to overcome natural limitations and mortality is a natural limitation. Live forever and be happy – that's the principle that science and magic aim to achieve. But what we don't want to see is that before we get to the real world of science, life and reality, war and nature will destroy us. Yet science and magic are the very causes of our unhappiness and the gnawing sensation of dispossession within our souls. She would not take the case, but she knew Anthony Goldstein would.

In her long conference with the solicitor, she realised that the assumptions wizards had about magic and Muggles had about science were problematic. Perhaps that is why the past haunted her. She knew too well the very questionable nature of things in modern life. So perhaps she wanted to go back into her past and render the present less questionable. That could be why she was having these nightmares of Severus Snape's death.

When Warrington finally left her, she flopped back into her seat in mental exhaustion with a sigh. It was then that she noticed that the sun had already set. Quickly consulting her watch, she saw that it was already half-past seven. She slapped a hand to her forehead at her forgetfulness. Good heavens! She was supposed to meet Ron before heading over to Harry and Ginny's for dinner. How could she have forgotten! Well, she could have very easily forgotten the existence of everything else once she was faced with work, but the boys (as she still thought of them) would not be able to understand it. They were nothing like her, she knew. They would seek out every available opportunity to put off the execution of work until faced with a looming deadline. "Never trust men who skive to understand women who are workaholics," she mumbled sotto voce as she hastily packed her briefcase.

As it was already lost past the appointed meeting time of 5.30pm with her husband and long past dinner at the Potters' place, she sent an owled apology to the Potters. She then decided to go to Boots, grab a sandwich and then head out to a shop selling Quidditch Robes for fans at Diagon Alley. It was the only way in which she thought she could possibly placate her husband – buy him a Quidditch Robe of his favourite team, listen to him rattle on about it for an hour or two, and she would be absolved from guilt until he started remembering that she had forgotten their dinner appointment – again. It was never a big deal to Harry and Ginny that she missed their dinners. They knew how busy she was, or at least Ginny did. Ginny once tried explaining to her brother that Hermione was like a horse with blinkers were work was concerned; she would only have eyes for whatever task was before her and plough through it until she was finished. Ron, who never believed anyone was actually willing to do any work unless it was (a) last minute, or (b) through the coercion of a mean-spirited supervisor, could not quite understand the appeal of working at assignments as and when they came in over doing something else that he found more pleasurable. So it was that she purchased for him the ridiculously coloured Quidditch Robes every rabid Chudley Cannon fan swore was a 'must have'.

Being of an efficient turn of mind, Hermione soon completed her self-imposed errands, and went home armed with a Chudley Cannon fan's robes for her husband. Her husband, however, did not share her belief in her own powers of being able to distract him. She found him – as he would be whenever he felt his wife had 'spurned him and/or his advances' for her work – sitting in the living room, sulking with a bottle of firewhiskey. From the darkened brow sitting on Ron's head, she gathered that he was angrier than usual. Biting back a long suffering sigh, she strode before him and dumped him the bag containing the robes.

"I got you something," she announced blithely, while gesturing for him to look in the bag.

Ron shot her a poisonous look and dragged out the Chudley Cannon robes from the bag with his thumb and index finger as if it were something dirty. "What is this for then?"

"Do I need an excuse to give you something?" challenged Hermione, her eyes flashing in contained irritation. "You have always wanted one; I got one for you."

He glared at her menacingly as she sat down next to him. "Is this supposed to make up for not meeting me and not going to dinner with me at Harry and Ginny's? Do you know how you made me look in front of my best friend and my sister?"

"Bugger it, Ron. I was in a 'con' with Warrington. It ended late. Besides, I apologised and sent the Potters an owl. They must have read it aloud to you when it arrived," she snapped in response, wrinkling her nose at the sour smell of alcohol under his breath. "Work was frustrating enough. I don't need your childish temper tantrums on top of it. Ginny understands my private working mode. Let's not have this conversation about you losing face in front of others?"

"How dare I? How dare I?" screeched Ron, turning as red as his hair. "You blow me off for dinner and sex time and time again. Yesterday, you had to buy books and I said nothing! Every time I need you to attend something with me, you have work. It seems that your work always crops up whenever anything I ask you to do with me and for me. What is your work, Hermione? Do you think this..." He held up the Chudley Cannons robes in his angrily balled, shaky fist. "This is enough pay me back for what I have suffered all the times you blew me off for your work? You miss dinner with me for work; you won't even have sex with me because you want to work in your study. I flooed you and saw you talking to a man in your office. You didn't even notice me. Were you too wrapped up in him? What is he? A new lover? You don't expect me to believe that you were in a deep conversation with your solicitor! You are having an affair, aren't you? That's why you bought me the robes! Have you finally become guilty?"

"Sorry," she yawned deliberately. "The word is not in my vocabulary." She glowered at him. "What about you? You expect me to drop everything for you! I have never asked you to drop anything you were doing for me! I let you do your work in peace whenever you abroad on your Auror training. I don't ask you to drop cases where you have to follow criminals and keep tabs on them for days on end because I need you on my arm for some function or the other! The last two times I asked you to attend the Wizarding Law Society dinner with me, you told me you had season tickets to Quidditch matches and that it would be a waste of money if you did not see the matches. You even kicked up a fuss because I asked Ginny to attend the dinners with me. You said she had taken your place by my side, and who was it who declined to attend the event by my side? And there was the time when I asked you where you went after you disappeared for a fortnight. You told me it was none of my business. So, fine! My business is none of your concern too! You will not blow off watching Quidditch matches for my functions – that's fine. In turn, you must understand that I will not blow off my clients to attend Quidditch matches with you. You have always known that and yet you kick up a fuss. When I so much as ask you to miss one Quidditch game to meet my parents for tea, you don't show up; or if you do, all you can say is that the game went into overtime. But have you noticed that I take the time to meet your parents? Have you noticed that if I make us arrive so much as five minutes late at the Burrow, you berate me for thinking that my parents are more important than yours? So you wish me to remain quiet and let you pursue your recreational interests? Very well, I can do that. But you are never satisfied with that. You then complain about my work! What about your work? You expect me to follow you around like a Ministry wife attending functions and whatnot? I attend the biannual major functions with you, and you can't even make the time for my annual Law Society dinner, and then you kick up a fuss because I asked Ginny to go with me! I have accommodated you long enough!"

"Women should follow their husbands! It is their place!"

She controlled her breathing and quietly intoned, "Your hissy fit, while amusing, is unmoving. Just accept your present like a good boy and I'll have a spot of tea with you before showering."

"You think you can buy me off with a gift after all the times you stood me up and blown me off? What about us? Out with it, Hermione, who are you having an affair with if you're buying me a gift to cover up for it? Is it that Slytherin solicitor I saw you with when I flooed? Why else were you too 'engaged' to notice me?"

Throughout history, human beings have developed specially honed responses to unmerited accusations. Some prefer to loudly protest their innocence. Others prefer to silently glare at their accusers in the belief that their innate innocence would shine through. These methods were not for Hermione. She, like many progressive members of the race called lawyers, advocated a manner for responding to clearly false allegations that was entirely new. She held that there was no better way of maintaining one's equanimity in such situations than to throw the accuser off his high horse. This feat was achieved by laughing at the accuser. Her husband, whose mind had never been quick, stared in astonishment at her as she burst out into a merry peal of laughter. For the briefest moment, he was stunned by disbelief. However, like most of the male species, his anger made a comeback when he recalled his wife was laughing at an accusation he made of her having an affair.

"Are you laughing at me?" he asked, stating the obvious with a childish scowl on his face.

Hermione, whose lips were still curled in amusement, looked at pityingly at him. "Only at your ridiculous indictment."

"Most women would be outraged by that kind of thing. You should be denying it if it were true, and quiet if it were not. Why are you laughing?" quizzed Ron.

The barrister-witch rolled her eyes. "Where did you pick that up from? Your colleagues at the Ministry?"

"It said so in Witches Weekly," he said defensively, flexing and unflexing his fingers on the Quidditch robes.

"Hmm, why would you read that publication? Didn't you say it was emasculating for wizards to be seen reading something like that?" riposted Hermione teasingly.

He snorted indignantly in remonstration. "I never said anything like that. Besides, the magazine has changed since Lavender took over as editor. Witches Weekly now provides a guide for wizards on their witches' psyche."

"You must have heard that from the horse's mouth if you're able to say 'pysche' and pronounce it correctly," Hermione purred in a low and dangerous voice. Something in her mind clicked as she recalled her husband's occasional absences from home and the Ministry where he was supposed to be at work. At that time, she had shrugged off his absences and believed Harry when he mentioned Ron was out on the field. However, members of his team were still loitering around the Ministry and had made it a point to greet her. While she had interpreted his previous absences as part of his malingering streak, she was now certain there had to be something more. Hence, she turned to Ron with a sweet smile pasted on her face. Oh yes, everything was very clear now. "That explains why you keep giving me things that are in the monthly giveaways of the magazine a full month in advance. How long has Witches Weekly been enjoying your patronage, Mr Weasley? Or should I ask how long Lavender Brown has been enjoying the service of your penis? You can be honest with me. I won't begrudge her a mere body part of yours. It is only an unremarkable piece of flesh after all."

'My... thingy is more than a piece of flesh!" Ron suddenly went from scarlet to white and sputtered desperately, "There's nothing! Lavender wants a male opinion for the magazine, and sometimes, we meet for drinks and talk about things. Er... yes, that's it, we talk... We just talk... Nothing but talking."

"Talk? The new euphuism for sex doesn't suit you. Your denial is your guilt, as you pointed out earlier. I don't care what you do outside, Ron, as long as you're discreet and it's not in my house." She dismissed him with a flick of her wrist.

He got up from the sofa and would have left her alone had he not recalled that he was the one who had accused her of having an affair, and she had the temerity not to answer him. "You can't do this, Hermione!" he shouted threateningly.

"Guilty now that I've uncovered your secret? Men barking madly always annoy me. Leave me alone before I hex you," she replied calmly, looking at him with something akin to boredom in her eyes.

"No, not that! You didn't answer me!" he insisted, throwing back the Chudley Cannons robes at her. "You gave me this to hide your guilt. You don't take my floo-calls because you were chatting up a lover; you make fun of me and you always claim you spend your nights at your workplace. I don't even know whether that's the truth."

"That coming from the wizard who has a bit of fluff on the side?" scoffed Hermione. "Well done, remind me to submit your photograph the next time the OED is redoing itself. Your picture will save them the trouble of defining the term hypocrisy."

"How can I believe you that your work is more important than me? Lavender says women need to do things outside of work in order to be truly content!" bellowed Ron. "She said women who do nothing but work become insensitive, unfeminine and uncaring. I see that part of it is true. But you can't be at work all the time. You must have a lover stashed somewhere. That's why you have been so nice to me buying me the robes for my favourite team. You think I don't know that you don't like Quidditch? Instead of coming home and keeping your dates with me as you should, you work, as if that's so important! We have everything we need! I am everything to you. I should be everything to you."

"In case you've forgotten, my life makes your life possible. The luxuries in this home come from me."

"I resent that!"

"So do I!" she hissed. "Have you heard yourself? You're being irrational. I work late and you accuse me of having a lover. I had a long 'con' with Warrington and you accuse me of having an affair. I buy you things because I want to and you accuse me of covering up my so-called guilt. Let me ask you a few questions – have you noticed that I try to understand your love for Quidditch? Have you ever known me to believe that there are more important things to me than my work? Yes, I am unnatural, insensitive, uncaring and whatever it is that Lavender told you I am like. But I am happy this way. My work keeps me happy."

"You're a wife and a mother, 'Mione!" he spat out. "What can be more satisfying than that? My mother was very happy as a wife and mother, and she never let something as trivial as work worry her."

"How many times must I tell you this – I am not your mother. Household work is anything but trivial and I know how she obsesses over that. Get it in your thick skull, I am Rose's and Hugo's mother before I am your wife. Get it in your thick skull, I am my own woman before I am your wife. It doesn't mean that once a woman is a wife and mother, she stops having her own life and own concerns! The same would go for a man, or do you think the same does not apply to you because you have that unremarkable piece of flesh south of your navel? Have you done anything for the children other than telling them they must be true Gryffindors above everything else? What about helping them to develop as people? What about you blowing off our children's day at the library because you will not miss one of your Quidditch matches? Is gambling on Quidditch more important than our children?" she reasoned, inwardly willing her anger not to get the better of her.

"Don't you dare use the children against me!" he bellowed. "I send them money whenever my team wins."

"That is not enough! Do you write to them? Do you send them books or sweets? Do you even know what they like?"

"Why should I write to them when you do? I don't see why you have so much to say to them! What can you possibly tell them that doesn't come from law or some nonsense from books? And for your information, I know our children better than you do."

"Then what do our children like?"

"Hugo takes after me. He likes Quidditch. Rose likes magical creatures."

"Hugo likes flying, not Quidditch – even Harry knows that. He prefers building model train sets to Quidditch, hence his interest in Muggle technology of the Industrial Revolution. Rose likes history and Seventeenth century plays. You would know that if you had seen the children put up their own makeshift play with your brothers' children and Harry's last Easter at the Burrow. It was a play our Rose and Hugo wrote for the entertainment of the family. But you had to attend your team's away match in Belfast and your bookie was hunting you down for the money you owed him!"

"Don't bring the children into this. You should be the one bringing them up, not me. You know how plays bore me!"

"Oh yes." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Instead of showing your support and affection for our children at their amateur theatrical, you are only interested in gambling on Quidditch matches and anything Quidditch related."

"You can't talk like that to me! Not when you tried to buy me off with these robes!" he pursued. "You gave me Chudley Cannon robes, it only reinforces your guilt that you are hiding something and that you don't love me!"

"This coming from the wizard who has an ongoing extramarital affair! I should be angry with you, but I'm not. You can amuse yourself as you like so long as the children don't find out Daddy's robes smell nothing like Mummy's perfume. I won't divorce you – not yet at least. The children are still young, and affairs like yours never last. Very soon, it will be out Lavender, in with a new buxom blonde. I will leave you to your business and you will leave me to mine. Marriage only in name isn't that uncommon for the wizarding community once the wife has produced the obligatory heirs. We will have separate households under one roof, like the kind of marriage enjoyed by Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy."

"How dare you compare us to them! My parents didn't have a marriage in name only! Neither do we!" blustered Ron, shaking in outrage.

"You do realise," began Hermione slowly with a contemptuous smirk, "your irrational and immature statements are deliberately calculated to further amuse me, while doing nothing for your personal image."

"Huh?" Ron's face went blank at his wife's language.

"Bollocks! I forgot I have to throw out three-quarters of my vocabulary when I speak to you," thought Hermione as she cleared her throat. "Think about it, Ron. You like to convey the impression that you are a thoughtful wizard, so exercise your mind. I am married to you, yes? I chose to marry you, yes? So, what does that tell you?"

Puffing up his chest like a ridiculously stuffed robin, he stated his knut's worth. "You just didn't want to be left on the shelf. Witches panic after a certain age if they can't get married, and they snatch whatever they can find. That's what Lavender told me. With you, it was a little different. You didn't have anything to snatch at, even though you were at the panic age. You always looked so envious when one of our friends got married, so I know." He paused to make a face at his wife's indignant snort. "I happened to like you. We got married. Don't think I don't know what was said about you. There were many people who said you were too bookish for your own good and wouldn't know how to treat a wizard right. Lavender herself said..."

She cut him off by shooting off two spells. She immobilised him completely with the Petrificus Totalus and then aimed a jinx at his mouth, which taped his trap shut for good measure. "Leaving aside the sagacity of Lavender's words, I want you to listen to me. Shouting and screaming never accomplish anything. I did love you at one point, or thought I did at one point because you saw me as a female instead of a walking encyclopaedia. But such time has passed. You have constantly seen me as just that – a female. I want to be seen as a human being, a person too! I am not in love with you, have never been in love with you, and have never been in love with anything save my work and studies. Loving someone and being in love are not the same thing. I bought the robes for you because I care for you. Any reason you claim was behind the gift is of the creation of your mind. You should know by now what sort of person am I. If you are only learning now, well then, it is a little too late. I must beg of you never to utter Miss Brown's name in front of the children as you were so fond of doing this evening. While she may be a legitimate role model for many young witches now, I have no wish for Rose to see her as your paragon of virtue. You know how candid I am. If they so much as ask me, I will tell them the truth. Thank your lucky stars that the children are away at school and not privy to your tantrums. I am going to take a bath, and work in my study. I have a new case involving the Malfoys – who would have thought they would have succeeded in making a place for themselves as of one of wizarding Britain's key crime families. I am going to release you from the spells now, and I want you to be quiet. Finite Incantatem."

As soon as Ron regained the use of his tongue and feet, he sought to rail at his wife again. "I don't understand you at all."

"It would seem we share this belief," she replied with a rueful sigh.

"Oooh, look at Hermione going, 'No one understands me, I'm such a tragic figure! Boo hoo! Look at me! No one respects me; no one understands me; no one appreciates me.' Bugger it all!" mocked he viciously. "You sound like Severus Snape with that load of shit."

Ignoring his comments with a faint smile, she allowed her hand to rest on her cheek as if suddenly reminded of something. "Speaking of Severus Snape – Tomorrow's the 9th of January, there will be a commemoration service for Professor Snape. Who knows? Harry may have persuaded Hogwart's Board of Directors to install his portrait in the headmaster's office. Are you going for the memorial service at the Hogsmead cemetery or do I have to make your excuses again?"

"You can do what you like if you're so obsessed with Snape!" he spat. "If I didn't know better, I would say you never got over your schoolgirl crush on the greasy git and his 'brilliant mind'. What mind? He's nothing but a ruddy two-headed snake and I want nothing to do with him. You would rather do things in memory of a greasy Slytherin git who did so many bad things, and a black-hearted dark wizard who hated Harry on top of that? I don't understand why you rather commemorate Snape's memory than be with me. Shows just what kind of a wife you are."

Hermione shook her head at Ron's pigheadedness. "It is right to keep the memory of someone good and noble alive. It is the decent thing to do. It is especially fitting to remember him on his birthday. Professor Snape's body was never found, remember? Maybe the Death Eaters destroyed it, who knows? We should give him the respect he deserves in death because we know what he is really like. Didn't Harry tell us about Professor Snape? Yes, I do not deny he appeared antagonistic towards Harry, but he had his reasons. There is a saying in an ancient Greek that translates to, 'It is both noble and just, and pious and pleasant to remember the good things rather than the bad ones.' We should learn from it, especially when we remember Professor Snape. He seems to have managed to live up to that adage in the latter half of his life, why can't you?"

"Since your memory is so good as to recall Snape's birthday and commemoration, can you tell me when my birthday is?"

"First February," she said without thinking. As soon as those words left her lips, she realised she had made a mistake. "First March. A slip of the tongue, Ron."

"You can't even remember my birthday. You don't love me at all, you lying witch!" he harrumphed, and with which parthian shot, he threw the robes back at her and stormed out of the house.

Alone again, Hermione neatly folded the Chudley Cannons robes and floated it to the bedroom. Just her luck to have made an unequal match, she mused wryly. Although she had found it particularly hackneyed when her father had the exact same talk Mr Bennet had with Elizabeth at the end of Pride and Prejudice. As much as she hated it, she had to admit to herself that marriage to Ron was falling apart. He was still the boy that he had been at Hogwarts.

Lately, he had taken to constantly informing her that she was dull for rattling to him about her work, and that she was being a busybody for enquiring after his day at work. No matter how hard she tried to reason with him, he persisted in his belittling of her efforts at understanding Quidditch and scoffing at her attempts to include him in the upbringing of their children. It was not that she had not tried to make her marriage work. Goodness knows she had tried. She had given in to him, contained herself from snapping at him whenever he said something against her tastes. She felt like she had always been giving in and now, she had nothing more to give. Evidently, Ron was also dissatisfied with their marriage too. Why else would he seek solace in the arms of his first paramour, Lavender Brown? Hermione scratched her head in frustration when she realised her father was right – she had made an unequal match. Her father had seen it then, so why could not she? It was plain for all to see that she and Ronald Weasley did not meet on any level. They had nothing in common.

Additionally, she owned privately to herself that she had been using her work to escape from him and the humdrum tedium of her life with him. He did not and was unwilling to understand all her quick parts and her abilities. It seemed that he wanted her to be like an amalgamation of Lavender Brown and his mother. While it was true that she had fancied Severus Snape in her school days it was because he had always taken her seriously in her private conversations with him. Although he was waspish to her in class, whenever she consulted him privately, he treated her as a human being, albeit with a great deal of indifference. It was markedly different from the spiteful tone he would use with non-Slytherins in class. At least he had always encouraged her ambitions and the development of her mind. Hermione sighed as she leant back in the sofa, suddenly tired with the evening's events. She had now come to a point in life where she wanted to be regarded as a person, not a woman as Ron apparently saw her, or a man as Chambers saw her because of her penchant for taking up cases the other males eschewed thereby consistently yelling out that she had bigger bollocks than the lads.

She was lost in the reverie in the comparisons between her husband and Severus Snape, until she shook her hair firmly and realised it would be no point to dwell on a dead man, whose merits were entirely lost on her husband. Likewise, it would be pointless to dwell on her husband as he was the cause of her present anger. There was only one thing she could think of that would starve off any human feelings and that was work. Thus resolved, Hermione took a quick shower, packed a small valise of clothes and headed back to Chiswell Square Chambers.

FOOTNOTES:

The Gorgon in the title refers to Nagini. I know she is not a 'real' Gorgon'. However, I believe her role in the books position her as a kind of symbolic Gorgon. There is another reason for dubbing Nagini the Gorgon, and that will be more apparent in subsequent chapters.

There are double entendres in the title (of the literary kind not the sexual kind as my prelim reader thought). Make what you will of them.

All references to characters are from Rowling's Harry Potter universe unless otherwise stated. Any character you do not recognise is my own creation.

Blinkers (British English) are blinds consisting of leather eye-patches sewn to the side of the halter that prevents a horse from seeing something on either side. My beta alerted me that American readers would call them "Blinders".

Facts about Wizarding Law and Wizarding Politics are made up.

Facts about the improvements of any Wizarding and/or Muggle object, governing body, and facility are made up.

Facts about other Harry Potter universe characters in the post-Voldemort years are also made up.

Legal references are to British Law. American readers, please bear with me. My beta also made the suggestion that readers unaccustomed to the legal jargon herein pretend you are watching "Rumpole of the Bailey" or "Sherlock Holmes".

The key members of Chiswell Square Chambers (other than Hermione) are from the HP-verse:

Summerby is mentioned as a male Seeker for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team in Book 5 (OoTP). I have given the character the first name Melvin.

Anthony Goldstein is mentioned as a Ravenclaw in the same academic year as Harry, Ron and Hermione in Book 5 (OoTP).

Padma Patil is mentioned as a Ravenclaw in the same academic year as Harry, Ron and Hermione. She is the twin sister of Parvati Patil.

Lee Jordan is mentioned as is a close friend of Fred and George Weasley, and in the same academic year as them.

Daphne Greengrass is mentioned as a Slytherin (likely in the same academic year as Harry, Ron and Hermione) who took the practical portion of the OWLS Potions examination with Hermione.

In the UK and in most Commonwealth countries, in organisations and educational institutes, people often communicate using 'pigeonholes'. Documents and messages are placed in a person's pigeonhole for them to collect; they can reply by putting a response inside the sender's pigeonhole

Perseuss von Bastiae. The name is deliberately spelt with two 's'.

Chambers – for definition and explanation, c/f footnotes in Chapter 1.

Head of Chambers – for definition and explanation, c/f footnotes in Chapter 1.

'Employed' barrister – for definition and explanation, c/f footnotes in Chapter 1.

Barrister – for definition and explanation, c/f footnotes in Chapter 1.

Solicitor – for definition and explanation, c/f footnotes in Chapter 1.

'Con' - When Hermione says she was in a 'con', she means consultation/conference with someone. It does not mean to cheat in this context.

Pupillage, in the UK and most Commonwealth countries, is the barrister's equivalent of the 'training contract'. It is like an apprenticeship where students build on what they have learnt during the Bar Vocational Course by combining it with practical work experience in a set of barristers' chambers. A pupillage is the final stage of training to be a barrister and usually lasts one year, being made up of two six-month periods (known as 'sixes'). The first of these is the non-practising six during which pupils shadow their pupil-master and the second will be a practising six when pupils can undertake to supply legal services and exercise rights of audience. At the end of the first six months a pupil must get their pupil supervisor to sign a certificate confirming satisfactory completion and send it to the Bar Council. The pupil will then receive a Provisional Qualification Certificate. At the end of the second six months a pupil must get their pupil supervisor to sign a certificate confirming satisfactory completion and send it to the Bar Council Education and Training Department. The pupil will then receive a Full Qualification Certificate. Although pupillage is used to describe the training for all barristers, there is little in common between different sorts of pupillages. Pupillage is recognised as a difficult and demanding time. Pupils must attempt to impress as many members of their chambers as is possible. They will also have to impress their clerks by competing as many cases as possible and still impressing solicitors.

The phrase 'first six' refers to the first six months of the pupillage whereby the pupil observes his/her supervisor at court, in conference and assisting with paperwork.

The phrase 'second six' refers to the second stage of the pupillage, or the next six months. At this stage, each pupil is responsible for their own case load. This will range from first appearance in the magistrates court and crown court to full trials. Some pupils may undergo jury trials, but this is very rare. The work will be allocated by the clerks at the end of the working day (frequently at 6pm or later) and the pupil will then be expected to prepare the trial for the following morning.

'Brief' or 'Briefs' (when used in the plural) stems from the Latin 'brevis'. It is a written legal document used in various legal adversary systems that is presented to a court arguing why the party to the case should prevail. In the UK, the phrase refers to the papers given to a barrister when they are given notes to a case from an instructing solicitor to represent a client at trial a day or two before the hearing. The brief or memorandum establishes the legal argument for the party, explaining why the reviewing court should affirm or reverse the lower court's judgement based on legal precedent and citations to the controlling cases or statutory law. When it is a trial or motion brief, the brief argues that the court should rule based on previous decisions of controlling courts. In either case, the brief may also include policy arguments and social statistics when appropriate; for example if the law is vague or broad enough to allow the appellate judge some discretion in his decision making, an exploration of the consequences of the possible decision outside of legal formalism may provide guidance. Such arguments may also support a legal argument when the purpose of the law at issue may be clear, but the particular application of that law in service of that purpose is in dispute.

The brief was probably so called from its at first being only a copy of the original writ. Upon a barrister devolves the duty of taking charge of a case when it comes into court, but all the preliminary work, such as the drawing up of the case, serving papers, marshalling evidence, &c., is performed by a solicitor, so that a brief contains a concise summary for the information of counsel of the case which he has to plead, with all material facts in chronological order, and frequently such observations thereon as the solicitor may think fit to make, the names of witnesses, with the 'proofs', that is, the nature of the evidence which each witness is ready to give, if called upon. The brief may also contain suggestions for the use of counsel when cross-examining witnesses called by the other side. Accompanying the brief may be copies of the pleadings, and of all documents material to the case. The brief is always endorsed with the title of the court in which the action is to be tried, with the title of the action, and the names of the counsel and of the solicitor who delivers the brief. Counsel's fee is also marked. The delivery of a brief to counsel gives him authority to act for his client in all matters which the litigation involves. The result of the action is noted on the brief by counsel, or if the action is compromised, the terms of the compromise are endorsed on each brief and signed by the leading counsel on the opposite side. In Scotland a brief is called a memorial.

Schengen refers to the 1985 Schengen Agreement. It is an agreement among some European states which allows for the abolition of systematic border controls between the participating countries. It also includes provisions on common policy on the temporary entry of persons (including the Schengen Visa), the harmonisation of external border controls, and cross-border police cooperation.

OED is the abbreviated form of the "Oxford English Dictionary".

The saying "It is both noble and just, and pious and pleasant to remember the good things rather than the bad ones" comes from Xenophon's Anabasis