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Chapter Text

Hermione Granger twisted her hands in her lap. She needed this job. She had no other alternative than waitressing or minimum wage jobs, both of which would definitely trap her in a level of poverty she had never experienced before. Silently she cursed the Wizarding world and the day she had first received her Hogwarts letter. She cursed Dumbledore, McGonagall, the Weasleys, and she cursed Harry. She hated them all but she didn’t hate magic… it was the only thing she had left she could call her own.

Tears shimmered in gold flecked hazel eyes as she remembered why she was applying for an entry level job she was definitely under qualified for. The Wizarding World had abandoned her, cast her out for something she wasn’t even responsible for, something she had never wanted. She spent seven years at Hogwarts, one year fighting a war, two years helping in the rebuilding, and now she was exiled and orphaned. She had no qualifications in the Muggle world: no educational records, no work referrals, and no contacts. She had spent the last of her inheritance surviving while she frantically studied for and passed her GCSEs. She attended evening classes to improve her computer literacy and for qualifications, picking up part-time work when she needed funds.

She never would have even received an interview if it wasn’t for Juliana Robbins, a friend of her mother who worked in the HR department for Wayne Enterprises London. She had taken some interest in an orphaned Hermione and offered to put her on the short list of candidates to be interviewed for a trainee opening in European Corporate Archives. Hermione did not have the formal educational qualifications or references for past experience but she definitely was good at research. She stiffened her spine. She wasn’t the best at computers but she was learning. And she was learning fast. If she got the job she could continue to attend night classes, perhaps take a few college credit courses…

“Miss Granger? Please come in.”

~o~

Mark Hopkins stared at the young woman sitting across from him. She was thin, pale, and clearly exhausted. But he could also see she was sharp, bright, and determined. Juliana would not have recommended someone who could not do the job. He studied her CV and application. It was scanty but it wasn’t like they needed someone with a university degree. The work was basic but it required careful attention to detail. From the interview Mark knew Miss Granger was very detail oriented.

“I discussed the candidates interviewed with the supervisors who would be responsible for the new trainee and we came to an agreement. We’d like to offer the position to you. The pay is not too high to start with but if you progress there will be quarterly reviews that could increase your salary. This offer is conditional on you passing our security checks but I do not think that will be much of an issue.”

She smiled, a clearly relieved and pleased expression. “Thank you very much Mr. Hopkins. I’m definitely interested in accepting the position.”

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Lucius Fox glanced at his Blackberry, a soft chime reminding him of the upcoming department head meeting.

“I’m afraid I have to leave now Bruce. I have a meeting in twenty minutes.” Then he remembered something. “But you may be interested in the new Research Associate for Special Projects.”

Bruce raised an arch brow. Special Projects was the euphemism he and Lucius used when referring to Batman’s equipment and needs. “Really? Anyone I know?”

“I wouldn’t think so. She transferred to Head Office Corporate Archives from European Corporate Archives just over a year ago; very bright and hard working. Good at keeping her mouth shut also. She did the lead research during the cell-phone crisis, when those criminals tried to hijack the cell networks. She isn’t a scientist but she found enough that pointed me in the correct direction, how to counter the microwave signal. You might be interested in bringing her in.”

Bruce considered that new bit of information. He hadn’t thought Lucius would have involved others… But then again Lucius did have his hands full with designing and manufacturing Batman’s gear. On top of his full time job as Wayne Enterprises CEO.

“I’m not sure Lucius. Give her a few sensitive Special Projects to work on but keep her out of the loop for now. Could you arrange a meeting?” Dark blue eyes narrowed. “I’d like to see how she reacts to Bruce Wayne.”

Lucius snorted softly. “I’d like to see that myself.” He grinned at his employers inquiring expression. “Miss Granger is not the sort to fawn over anyone. She is more likely to treat you like a delinquent school boy.”

Bruce raised a brow and smirked. “Oh really? I’d like to see that.”

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Hermione dressed quickly. Public transit was never on time in Gotham and there was always the chance her local bus would be cancelled or re-routed. A neat navy blue skirt and vest with a standard white shirt. Black ballet-flats that would help if she had to run and a long grey trench coat. The weather in Gotham was worse than England, constantly gloomy with almost no sun and rain the rest of the time.

As she locked up and hurried out of her shared apartment she wondered why on earth she had accepted the transfer to Gotham. Sure the pay was much better and it was an up-ward move that gave her more responsibilities but the city was so dark… it felt almost tainted and heavy. One week exploration and a discreet meeting with an information broker at Salem confirmed what she had suspected. There were no wizards in Gotham.

Salem never invited any Muggleborns from Gotham for training. Gotham had the reputation of being weird and creepy and odd; wizards raised in Gotham go bad. After fifteen Dark Lords from fifteen students, the entire student population from Gotham, Salem decided to cuts its losses and the American Federation of Magical Enclaves marked Gotham as a No Mans Land. Wizards were encouraged to stay out of the area. With the recent upsurge in criminal activity and the appearance of the Freaks, the Rogues, the American enclaves were more certain than ever nothing good could ever come from Gotham; only Muggles, metas, and criminals.

Once she caught her train Hermione allowed her thoughts to drift, to wonder and dream. After finding out Gotham was a No Mans Land for wizards Hermione had done a more detailed investigation into the area, its history, myths and legends. The Iroquois Indians had warned the settlers the lands were strange but the location and natural resources were too tempting to deny. Life did not really become dark until after the Great Depression and then it reached its lowest ebb the years after Thomas and Martha Wayne were murdered. The Waynes’s had provided a moral compass, a guiding light to the city, something dearly needed during dark times. Their son was too young to take up the role and later he left. When he returned Gotham had pretty much hit rock bottom.

There was effort being made by various men and women: Commissioner Jim Gordon to end the corruption, Harvey Dent during his time as DA though he eventually became the criminal known as Two-Face, and Batman, the masked vigilante. For a time Hermione had wondered if he was a wizard. It seemed impossible, all what he had done, what was whispered of him, how he could fly and vanish in the blink of an eye. Eventually she had decided otherwise. It would take a great deal of dedication and sacrifice to have started and kept on his quest to fight crime for so many years, qualities she now believed were impossible to find in a wizard. At least a wizard trained in the enclaves.

She stared at her reflection in the glass, seeing the skyline and buildings pass without truly seeing them. She was looking beyond them. The first week in her new home Hermione had wondered why there was such a heavy despairing atmosphere blanketing Gotham? Why were the residents so willing to believe the worst and resort to violence first? After weeks of careful studies and personal interviews Hermione believed she had a possible answer. It was an unproven theory of course, she did not have the money or the time to do the extensive digging required.

Gotham was sitting on a tangled web of leylines, natural power and magic welling from the Earth herself, power that made it such a rich and desirable land. Unfortunately such places were very sensitive to those living on the surface. As the people despaired the nodes became tainted in turn affecting even more people living close by. Historically nodes were usually consecrated temples, groves, and shrines. Holy grounds tended by magically inclined clergy to keep them pure and untainted by the weakness and darkness of all mortals. If she could purify the land, or perhaps even one of the nodes it could turn things around. The people would start feeling and acting better.

Her conscience urged her to do that but her fear kept her from going all out. She did not have the resources or the courage to tackle the nodes but she could clear out small pockets around the city, create small sanctuaries where the residents would be a little safer, healthier. The poorer districts where there were less services, innocents who were too close to the taint, innocents who grew up and became tainted – criminals or murderers. They deserved a chance for a better life. She always kept her efforts small-scale. She did not want to draw too much interest or shift the balance of power. As long as she was careful no one would notice. Wizards and Witches from the enclaves would never want to live in the poor disreputable neighbourhoods. They would never walk in Crime Alley or The Narrows and see what she had done. As long as they never found out she would be safe.

~o~

Forty minutes later she was in her cubicle stripping off her coat and hanging it to dry. She logged into her workstation and checked her email to be taken aback by the addition to her schedule. A status report meeting with upper-level management in thirty minutes.

Quickly she made soft and hard copies of the necessary files and prepared a portfolio and folders for her possible audience. She hoped five sets were enough.

When she reached the meeting room specified she was taken aback. There were only two occupants. Her supervisor Lucius Fox, and her ultimate employer Bruce Wayne.

“Lucius, I’m sorry I thought this was the room for the status report…” She trailed off.

The older African-American smiled warmly. “You are in the correct place. The meeting is just for Bruce and myself.” He waved at the handsome indolent looking dark haired man on the other edge of the table next to him. “Mia, this is Bruce Wayne, he is interested in hearing your progress report on Project 13528. Bruce, this is the new Research Associate I told you about, Hermione Granger. If you are lucky she’ll let you call her Mia.” He added with a grin.

Bruce Wayne studied the Englishwoman. She was not too tall or model slim, dressed in a department store navy blue skirt-vest combo matched with a plain white shirt and flat shoes. She was not conventionally beautiful with her strong features, mass of brown curls drawn back into a neat braid, and hazel brown eyes. But he could see hints. What would she look like in more daring clothes, her hair loose, eyes flashing?

He smiled charmingly. “Please call me Bruce.”

She merely stared at him hard. “Mr. Wayne.” Her response was clipped and sharp.

He raised a brow intrigued. “I don’t stand much on formality.”

“Or anything else.” She muttered in too low of a voice to be heard by most. Bruce had to swallow his laughter and schooled his expression into polite inquiry.

“Excuse me?”

She smiled blandly, a polite social expression. “Sorry. Just talking to myself.” Then she briskly moved over to the computer station. “Give me a minute to get set up. You might be interested in what I’ve found out Lucius…”

~ooOoo~

At the end of the meeting Bruce Wayne was impressed.

“That is quite a thorough report. You did it all in five days? By yourself?”

She smiled politely. “It wasn’t that hard. I’m pretty good at getting obscure bits of information. Gotham University has a very good faculty. When I mentioned I was working on a project for Lucius Fox, CEO for Wayne Enterprises they were very co-operative. I was able to fill in the rest from other sources.”

“Some not very public sources.” Bruce noted sharply.

“Lucius said it was important,” was her only answer. “The sources are not official or citable of course.”

Bruce nodded slowly. It wasn’t illegal. Not quite legal either. Just a very obscure loophole in the patent protection laws.

“Thank you for your reports. Please e-mail a copy to Lucius and myself. Leave two hard copies here and shred the rest. Keep your files on USB in the safe and on the Charlie server only.”

She nodded and repacked her things in her portfolio case. Quickly she murmured her farewells and left the meeting room. Bruce Wayne was… off. There was something about him that made her wary. Something dangerous. She shuddered as she quickened her steps. He wasn’t a real threat. Just too rich, too spoiled, too head strong. She made a mental note to avoid crossing paths with him in the future. If she was lucky she would never have to see him again; except perhaps at office Christmas parties.

~o~

“Well? What do you think of her?”

Bruce tapped his Graf von Faber-Castell fountain pen against the desk. “She’s hiding something.”

Lucius snorted. “Aren’t we all?”

“She is intelligent, hard working and bright. Surely she could have secured some sort of scholarship to complete a post-secondary degree. Her CV indicates she wrote her O-levels on her own. She must have attended some high school. Why didn’t she write the exams with them?”

Lucius frowned. “I asked her about that. She said that she had to drop out her last year. There were some problems with the children of some of the more wealthy patrons. She was unable to get her records from them since it was a private institution and she didn’t have the money or the energy for a lawsuit. She just wanted to leave it all behind her.”

Bruce shook his head. “There are still too many gaps. She practically doesn’t have any history at all from the moment she turned twelve. No hospital visits, bank records, driving licenses, tax records from before she started working with us. The only thing I could find in the government databases were visas and passports. She apparently travelled with her parents during the summers. Very eclectic destinations too.”

“So what do you want me to do?”

“Just keep an eye on her. I don’t think she’s a spy but it’s better to be safe than sorry.” His eyes sharpened and voice dropped into a lower register. “The suit modification… Is it complete?”

“Almost. I have a working sample for test purposes. Training room only.”

Bruce smirked. “Of course.” And then he turned the conversation to Wayne Enterprises business. Hermione Granger was not a threat or major concern; with some luck not ever.

Chapter Text

Hermione bit back a scream as thug two jerked her across the floor and dragged her along with other terrified Wayne Enterprises employees, admin staff, scientists and security. She kicked and flailed and ended up being man-handled over one shoulder like a sack of flour.

“Why are you doing this?” She tried to reason with the thugs. “We’ve already given you access to Vault 3 and 5. There is no one here who can open Vault 1 and 2. It is designed to be sealed in the event of a security breach!”

“That may be true, but someone will have the codes to open it.”

Hermione shook her head frantically as she twisted, trying to look over her shoulder, to see her captors face. “No! It was designed to lock down completely! The building has to be completely shut down and then restarted.”

Thug 2 frowned and spoke to thug 3. “That would mean anyone could get in. Even the cops.”

Hermione squeaked when a white painted face pushed in front of her. “Don’t be such a party pooper little girl. I’m sure Batsy will be able to deliver. If he doesn’t I’m afraid there are going to be several new graves in the cemetery. Now be a good girl and don’t make too much trouble. We have to prepare for Bats and Birds.”

~o~

Hermione struggled against the wire cutting into her wrist. Each of the hostages was secured in twos or threes, their arms wrapped around pillars or another hostage before their wrists were lashed together. Because the pillars were spread out around the room so were the hostages making it very difficult for anyone making a rescue attempt.

Her eyes were wide and terrified as she tried to process the situation. It had been two hours; two hours and ten dead bodies two of which were cooling just a few meters away. She had never expected such calculated planning from a maniac like The Joker. He had ordered the hostages to be split up in four groups, one on each level wired with cameras and radios. If there was any rescue attempt made on one level his men on the other levels were ordered to start killing the hostages.

Her skin was prickling. She could feel the despair and rage and hate filling the trashed research lab. It was going to cost a fortune to repair and replace all the equipment. Did Wayne Enterprises have a good insurance policy? It was going to suck for everyone. Dimly she wondered if she would survive this nightmare. She had lived in Gotham for more than a year now. She definitely had her run-ins with the criminal element but this was the first time she’d encountered one of the Rogues. How unlucky it had to be a psychopath like The Joker. The Penguin was more chivalrous and less likely to kill a polite co-operative hostage. If it was Two-Face she could have influenced his coin in her favour.

She caught the eye of the nearest guard. “What is he after? He keeps rambling about Vault 1 and 2.”

The thug decided it was okay to answer. “Wayne Tech developed something to do quick aerosol dispersal for any chemical. Mr J wants it.”

“For Smilex.” Hermione was numb. “The project was scrapped. All the prototypes were destroyed and the files scrubbed. Mr. Wayne said there was too much risk it would be misused. There are no copies of the files in the Vaults.”

“Oh, and how would you know that?” The Joker purred. “You are just a Research Associate. Not one of the lab techies.”

Hermione squared her shoulders and tried to relax her tense strained muscles. “I work for Mr. Fox. He clearly stated the plans for the technology were going to be destroyed.”

“But you don’t know if he did that do you? I mean you haven’t been inside the Vault and seen for yourself. Or have you?”

Hermione did not answer. It was no use trying to reason with him. The only thing she could do was wait, pray, and hope she didn’t break and no one else died.

~o~

Batman scowled as he reviewed the video from a hidden security tap.

“They have hostages all throughout the building.” Batgirl noted soberly. “The Joker is actually thinking or someone is doing it for him.”

“Miss Granger is doing a dandy job keeping his attention.” Robin noted. “I’m surprised she isn’t more hysterical. I mean The Joker just killed two hostages in front of her because he was annoyed at being thwarted.”

“That’s not a good thing.” Batman rumbled. “We’ll need to split up. The Joker is mine.”

~o~

Hermione wriggled and twisted her body around the edge of the pillar she was lashed to just as the Batman threw a thug in her direction. He probably hadn’t planned it but she was ready. One leather-shod foot lashed out and knocked the man out. It took agonizing seconds while she stretched and squirmed but failed to reach him. Her kick had pushed him out of her reach.

“Sarah! Push him towards me!” She snapped. The middle-aged secretary clearly in shock and denial. “Push Him! Use your foot!”

After several prompts the other women obeyed. Hermione looked around. The Batman was sort of winning. He managed to take out the thugs guarding two groups of five hostages on this floor. There were still four left. Then Hermione slipped off her shoes. She managed to roll him over onto his back and saw it. Clippers hooked on his belt! Using her toes she managed to unhook them. It took two tries of tossing it into the air with her toes before she managed to catch it in her hands. She forced herself to hold them tight as she angled the tools to cut the wires binding her. If she dropped them…

The wire snapped. Her hands went numb as blood flowed into her fingers. It hurt. It hurt too bloody much. But she couldn’t stop. She hurried over to free Sarah. The other woman was babbling and crying her thanks.

“Don’t thank me just yet! Just get out of here!” She hissed as she moved to the other hostages.

Then she cried out as someone grabbed her by her loose hair and tossed her face into a bank of servers. Her vision blurred and blood poured into her eyes.

“Ah ah ah!” The Joker chided as he paced towards her. “Naughty naughty girl.”

Her head rang as she struggled to find her feet. Where was Sarah? Where was the exit?

“How dare you try to spoil my fun by leaving early!” The Joker pouted. “You must pay a penalty! Starting… With her!”

There was a flash of silver and Sarah fell to the tiled floor, her life bleeding out of an open gash in her throat, her eyes going dark.

“Sarah!”

The Jokers eyes were dark and maniacal. “You must all pay the penalty!”

“No! Stop!” It was a futile plea. Joseph Winters fell.

Hermione moved. She had to stop him! Then Tamara Briars collapsed like a broken doll. She was between him and Eileen Piers.

“Stop it!” She screamed in his face.

He laughed and backhanded her. She fell. And then Eileen fell on top of her. Hermione screamed feeling the warm blood gush over her throat and chest.

“Eileen!”

~o~

Batman steeled his instinctive reaction to the cry of despair. Anger made him more ruthless as he took out the remaining guards and freed the second last living hostage. One she was safely out of sight he turned to the other end of the room. The group closest to The Joker was decimated, only one survivor: Hermione Granger.

Hermione Granger was kneeling in a pool of blood weeping. Her pale green shirt and cream pants were stained red. She seemed completely unaware of The Joker standing over her laughing maniacally.

She was reaching out to the bodies, people who she had known. Her head was bowed, the tips of her hair dragging in the blood. It was a mane when not restrained by her usual braids or buns.

She was weeping. Batman could see small pieces of paper dance around the lab. He frowned. He saw sparks of electricity dance from the trashed server and land in the pools of blood. Was there a danger of electrocution and fire? He needed to move fast. It was unfortunate she had witnessed death up close and personal. He hoped she would be willing to see a therapist. Bruce Wayne made sure all Wayne Enterprises employees had access to trained and qualified professionals. Some days he wished he could make use of their services.

Then his danger sense flared.

She screamed; a long piercing sound of primal rage. It vibrated in his bones, under foot. The tempered glass shuddered and shattered.

Her face lifted framed with brown strands dyed a gory red at the tips. Her eyes… Her eyes were pools of lightening, unfathomable. Was she a meta? Could she see? Apparently so given how she turned as she rose on bare bloody feet to face The Joker.

The lunatic cocked his head.

“Pretty.” Was the only comment he got out before she thrust out a hand. Then lightening poured out of her hand, into the Joker and drove him through two banks of servers before it weakened to drop him to the ground.

“The dead scream.” Her voice was unnaturally hollow and booming. “The dead scream for vengeance Jack Napier!”

The servers flew across the room and landed on top of some of the still conscious thugs. A table floated and inverted itself before the flat surface came down hard on a few others. The others attacked her. She moved.

There was a hint of slight awkwardness in her motions, as though she had never done it before, but the stances and blows used were clearly advanced; and designed to Hurt. Even cause permanent injury. Batman took advantage of the distraction to take out the rest. She tossed away her last opponent before running towards The Joker, her clenched fist raised and surrounded by a halo of green flames.

“NO!” Her voice was harsh. “You Are Not Escaping!”

And then she punched forward. The green flames left her fist in a ball that landed squarely between the Jokers shoulder blades. He fell forward from the impact and was still.

Hermione Granger stopped running. The green flames faded from her hand, the white lightening died from her eyes. She stared at The Jokers unmoving form.

Batman moved to examine the Joker.

“Don’t bother.” Her voice was more normal now, though harsh and raspy as though she had been screaming for a long time. “He’s in a coma. He will never wake.”

Batman frowned. He moved to loom over her. “What did you do?!” He growled.

There was a cut near her hairline bleeding sluggishly. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face bloody and tearstained. But her expression was curiously blank.

“What did you do?” He demanded.

She seemed to pull herself together. “I did what you and the police failed to do. I’ve stopped The Joker from harming anyone else in the future.”

“You have no right—” He growled.

“No right? No right?!?” Her expression hardened as she marched right up to him on bare bloody feet, a cut through her eyebrow bleeding sluggishly to match the slow trail of blood pouring from her split lip. “No right?!!” She screamed right in his face. He could see gold sparks in hazel eyes. “How dare you! I have every right to defend myself and innocents! That bastard was nothing more than an animal to be put down!”

“You are not the courts or the law.”

“And you are not the police,” she countered snidely. “Who gave you the right to run around in a cape and mask tracking down criminals?”

“You put him in a coma! You could have just restrained him!”

“NO! No, I couldn’t! Not when the dead scream for vengeance! Not when justice has failed to deliver! Not when the bastard is so clearly unrepentant no mortal law can make him Pay!” She snarled.

“And who gave you the right to punish?”

“The dead do.” Her voice was cold and unnaturally calm, expression defiant. “Will, Lizzie, Sarah, Joseph, Tamara, Eileen. They are dead and they demand to be avenged, they know the law cannot punish the Joker; it has clearly failed to do so too many times in the past. They demand it of me and since they have ample cause I cannot deny them. Their deaths were violent and too recent, they cannot be denied. I am just their tool and they act through me.” Her expression dared him to disbelieve him.

Batman frowned. “You are some kind of medium?”

She laughed. It was a bitter, harsh sound. “I wish.”

“Then what are you?”

“None of your business!”

“If you are living in my city it is!”

Cobalt clashed against hazel in a battle of wills before Granger grudgingly conceded.

“I’m a Necroscope. If you want to know go look it up.”

Batman memorized the term. Then he looked around. How were they going to explain this to the police? As though she had read his thoughts Hermione Granger spoke.

“Tell the police whatever you want but I’m sticking to my story. I managed to free Sarah and was about to release the others when The Joker started cutting their throats. Then he backhanded me and knocked me unconscious. When I woke up it was like this. I walked around in a daze before regaining my senses and ran out.”

She sensed his frown and raised a challenging eyebrow. “What are they going to do even if you tell them what I did? The cameras have been damaged and knocked out. I’m not going to perform for them like a trained monkey. The most they can do is charge me with assault and property damage. No DA will take me to court. I am simply a victim who used excessive force to defend herself out of sheer terror after seeing her co-workers die and one bleed to death in her arms. If anything they should be giving me a medal for taking out that bastard!”

Batman fumed as he watched her stalk away on bare feet leaving a trail of blood footprints behind her. The worst thing was he couldn’t really deny her logic.

Chapter Text

Hermione huddled on the park bench. Lucius had been kind enough to give her a few days off and the phone numbers for several counsellors Wayne Enterprises kept on retainer. She hadn’t called any of them. It was better if she looked after herself. A therapist would lock her up in the loony bin if she was honest. And if she was going to be dishonest counselling was useless.

She stood up with a sigh and tossed her disposable paper cup in the trash can. Doing a circuit would be a good distraction. A quick glance reassured her no one was paying any particular attention to her. Deftly she twisted her hair into a loose knot on top of her head. Then she pulled out a small navy blue hat from a black department store back embossed with double-Bs. A few pins and it was neatly perched on top of her head. Carefully she pulled the veils down so they obscured all of her head, hiding the colour of her hair and her features. Then she slipped off her grey trench coat and bundled it up before putting it in her bag. A cool breeze fluttered the material of her long navy blue skirt. The black woollen blazer was comfortably warm.

Gracefully she walked out of the park towards the closest transit station.

~o~

Batman frowned. Hermione Granger had gone from an unknown to a potential threat when she had taken out The Joker. As expected Jim Gordon wasn’t investigating too hard given The Jokers depredations but Batman couldn’t afford to be lax. He needed to know more about the British expatriate.

She had refused to stay in the hospital past the twelve hour observation period. She had refused to stay in police custody as well. The Joker was as good as dead and his thugs were in the hospital. It wasn’t like she had angered a mob boss who would send enforcers or assassins after her. As she had said there were no charges laid. Several officers had congratulated her on surviving The Joker.

Bruce Wayne took the day off and Batman set up surveillance on Hermione Granger. To his shock she had not retreated and hidden in her apartment located in the lower middle-class neighbourhoods of Old Gotham. Instead she had gone out for a walk. After doing a circuit of the scraggly bare municipal park and drinking coffee from a corner café she had done something unexpected. She had donned a veil that obscured her identity.

Batman could not explain it. One moment he could see her face. The next moment after she lowered the veil attached to the small pill-box hat it was like seeing through a thick haze. He could just see the bare outline of her face. Her hair appeared darker closer to chocolate or black. How could one hat make such a difference?!? Was it an optical illusion or new tech? If so Batman wasn’t sure how it could be done. The material of the veil appeared to be very sheer black muslin but why couldn’t he see through it!?!? Just the vaguest outline of her features.

This new development made Batman worried. Were there others with similar masking devices? If he hadn’t seen Hermione Granger don the hat he wouldn’t have known it was her! This could lead to a major crime spree if any of the local gangs secured similar items. How on earth did it work?!?

He watched her visit one of the local cemeteries and pay her respects at some of the newer graves. The wind was stronger when she stood near a fresh grave but he could not see if her eyes had changed. She seemed to be a regular visitor. The local caretakers called out to her. He called her ‘Veiled Lady’ in a joking fashion. She left after a ten minute conversation that mainly centered around the caretakers teenage children.

She ate at a local deli before she caught a bus that took her into Crime Alley. As she stepped off near the heart of the depressed neighbourhood she pulled on a pair of black leather driving gloves. Then she walked without any fear of being attacked. Batman scowled and moved closer, just in case she needed to be rescued. But the strangest and rather terrifying thing was she never did.

As she walked many of the locals actually left their homes and approached her. Young children recognized her first and ran to her calling her ‘Veiled Lady’. She was affectionate and openly demonstrative. Every child received a hug or ruffled hair and a piece of candy. Candy their mothers did not protest them accepting. The women recognized her. She would cuddle an affectionate toddler while talking to the mother. The conversations were not too long and on various personal problems the residents were experiencing; worries about family and friends in the gangs, concerns about the younger ones following in their footsteps, a difficult boss, cut backs at the local factories. Hermione Granger listened with a non-judgemental ear. Occasionally she made comments and suggestions but mainly she gently guided them to their own conclusions. Why did they trust her? Why did they trust a woman who hid her face from them?

Then Batman noticed something else. A toddler tried to tug her veil. He knew babies had a strong determined grip for anything hanging but in this situation the veil did not budge. The pillbox hat did not slip. It simply wasn’t… natural.

He followed in her footsteps as the twilight fell and the skies darkened. This was the dangerous time; people returning home from work, gangs coming out for easy prey.

Batman tensed when he saw a trio emerge from the alley; members of the El Lobos gang. He recognized two of them. Batman was ready to spring into action when he saw it. The trio got a better view of the woman walking down the street. Manuel Hernandez stiffened and pulled his partners back into the alley.

“No!” He hissed. “It’s the bruja!”

Batman frowned. Witch? Given what she had done to The Joker perhaps which was a sort of accurate description.

“She ain’t no bruja!” Jose Lopez whined.

“Don’t be a fool Jose. She may not be a bruja like your nona but the dead speak to her. You don’t mess with a Mouth for the Spirits.” Jose paled. Manuel crossed himself, an unexpected demonstration of religious faith. “She said Tia Anita was unhappy with me.”

The third teen scoffed. “Your Tia Anita has been dead for years!”

Manuel’s eyes were serious. “She knew things only Tia knew. Things I told Tia the morning she was gunned down by the Hornets.”

The third one sulked. “I don’t see why you’re so afraid of her. So she knows the dead. What can they do?”

Jose’s voice was serious. “Plenty if they are pissed at you and there is a Mouth around.” He glanced around warily. “Let’s get out of here. Too many people died close by. I don’t know if any of them might still be mad at me.”

The third one stared aghast at his companions, his idols. “So you are just chickening out? You’re going to let a broad get the better of you?”

Manuel snarled and slammed the teen into the brick wall. “Don’t be a idiot Nico. My Nona didn’t raise no fool. Just leave the Veiled Lady alone. You’ll stay healthy.”

“She’s more dangerous than the Bat?” Nico touched his bruised face.

“Definitely. The Bat might beat you up but he’ll just hand you over to the police. If you hurt her the Spirits will kill you. She’s a Mouth and you’re just another punk.”

Batman was disturbed and worried by the information. The more dissolute element knew more about her than he did. Clearly some research was in order. What exactly was a Necroscope? A Mouth for the Spirits? What were the abilities and limits? Mentally he flipped through his list of contacts in the Occult Circles.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

“What do you know about Necroscopes?”

Jason Blood stared at the Batman. He swallowed hard. “Enough to know they are very bad news. Why?” Batman did not answer. “If there is one in Gotham I would like to know. Such a threat must be eliminated before they become too powerful.”

Batman stiffened and glowered. “Tell me about Necroscopes.”

The Occult Specialist frowned before answering grudgingly.

“Necroscopes are very rare. Most mistake them for Necromancer but there is a distinct difference. Necromancer is someone with a talent for manipulating and animating corpses. A Necroscope literally speaks to the dead. If a Necroscope commands the spirits will return to their bodies and rise to fight. If there is one in Gotham they need to be stopped.”

“Why?”

“Because all Necroscopes go insane. There is power in death and dying. Sooner or later he will start killing to harvest the powers released by death and to increase his own magical abilities, to build an army of spirits who can serve his cause. The rules are quite clear in the magical communities. If one is found their powers are bound and they are exiled from magical society. It is unfortunate but the binding usually kills them within a year.”

Batman frowned. “How does a binding kill?”

“Batman you have to understand there are those born to have magic. To Not use it is unnatural. It is like building a dam. The power keeps building up with nowhere to go. Eventually it starts destroying the one bound from the inside.”

“So if a Necroscope is bound he will not be able to do magic.”

“Yes.”

“How does a Necroscope get their powers?”

“They are born with it. But most never ever activate it.”

“How is it activated?”

“By death. Usually a relative dying violently. Due to kinship they are more sensitive to the powers released by death. Once the potential is activated they can’t control it. They get addicted to the sensations, the powers they gain from death.”

“How do you know?”

“Batman, I’ve known three Necroscopes. Two were good men; sane and stable. Both turned into serial killers seeking a high within four months. The third was a woman who lasted nine months. The longest known case was fifteen months before he committed suicide. It became standard law to bind and exile Necroscopes four hundred years ago. Once bound they cannot use magic and are no longer a threat. It is unfortunate that they die as a side-effect of the bindings.” Then his expression hardened. “Now tell me Batman, is there a Necroscope in Gotham? We don’t need a new Rogue on the loose.”

Batman hesitated. “The Necroscope is from Europe. Britain.”

Jason frowned and thought hard. “I heard of a recent case. Hermione Granger.” Then he noted Batman’s stillness. “But it can’t be her!” His voice was incredulous. “She was bound and exiled four years ago! She should be dead by now!”

“Well she isn’t. She’s still alive and perfectly sane so I don’t want you or anyone else attacking her!” Batman’s voice was hard. “She has already been punished by your own laws for something she did not ask for. She has been bound and exiled. End of story.”

Jason grudgingly nodded.

Batman vanished.

~o~

Two hours later he was in his lair reviewing his electronic research on Necroscopes.

“A bit of horror reading Master Bruce?”

“More history than fiction Alfred.” Batman admitted.

Alfred blinked and paid closer attention to what he was reading. “That is quite disturbing. Do we need to be on the lookout for a Necroscope in Gotham?”

Batman smiled faintly. “Actually I’ve already identified her.”

“Who?”

“Hermione Granger.”

Alfred blinked. “Are you sure sir? Your research says they turn into serial killers within a few months. She has been working for Wayne Enterprises for a few years now; more than a year in Gotham. There hasn’t been any sign of a serial killer.”

Batman leaned back in his chair. “She hasn’t been killing. In fact she restrained herself from killing the Joker and his thugs. She merely put him into a coma and seriously injured the rest.”

Alfred was taken aback. “My word! Are you sure?”

“I saw it myself.” Batman pointed out. He pulled up a few files. “I believe I found out how she was activated. Her parents went missing a few weeks before her nineteenth birthday. The receptionist for their dental practice notified the police. One week later all three were found in one of the local warehouses. Her parents had been tortured and killed. She had also been… hurt. There were a few bodies dressed in cos-play clothing, wizards’ robes. It was never identified just how they were killed. Hermione Granger was in a coma for two weeks before she woke. They never identified the bodies. The detectives did not have the heart to pressure her after the trauma of her experience. The case was never officially closed since agents from MI-6 took Hermione Granger into their custody and sealed the files. Agents who do not exist according to the databases.”

Alfred considered the new information. “My word, Miss Granger is turning out to be quite a conundrum. Do you wish me to use my contacts?”

Bruce shook his head. “No. I believe those agents were from the local magical circles. Jason informs me her powers were bound before she was exiled. That presumably happened a few months before she wrote her O-levels and applied to Wayne Enterprises.”

Alfred nodded knowingly. “You don’t want them to know she is still alive.”

“Exactly. They have no trouble issuing a death sentence for something she never wanted. If they find out she survived it they may send someone to take care of her. Permanently.”

There was a comfortable silence before Alfred voiced the question nagging him.

“Master Bruce, why are you so protective of her? I thought you didn’t like what she had done. To The Joker.”

“I don’t. But from what Jason has told me she could have very easily killed him.” He frowned slightly. “I don’t like it, how quickly Jason labelled her a threat without even meeting her or considering the facts of Her case.” He looked at his most trusted confidant. “I’ve interacted with her. I’ve followed her. She is quite sane.” Then he frowned. “Other than going for walks in cemeteries and Crime Alley without an escort.”

“Oh really?”

“Mmmm.” Batman leaned back in his chair and considered the ceiling. “She used some kind of veil that completely obscured her identity before she went on her walk. She had clearly done this before because the residents recognized her. They were not afraid of her.” His voice was wonder filled. “Alfred, the women and children actually left their homes to go and talk to her. They told her their problems. You know they never trust any of the social workers. They just trust Leslie because she’s worked with the free clinics and shelters for years.” He frowned slightly. “But the local gang-members avoided her. Some are terrified of her. Some of them know what she is… A Mouth for the Spirits. They treat her with respect and caution.”

Alfred was impressed. “That is quite an achievement. Something she didn’t get by knocking heads together I presume.”

Batman smiled ruefully. “No. After what she did to The Joker I can understand why street toughs like Manuel Hernandez and Jose Lopez prefer to avoid her.”

Alfred hummed softly. “She can make them behave. What about the mob?”

“I didn’t see any interaction.” He frowned. “I doubt she will get the same respect or fear from someone like Maroni or Thorne. And it is not like she is actually fighting criminals or sabotaging their operations; just aiding the families of their victims and employees.”

“The innocents and less fortunate.” Alfred murmured. Then he stared at the photo of the young woman on screen. It was a security ID card photo. Her features were smooth and even, her colouring and make-up subdued. “Why do you think she does it?”

“I don’t know. Batman has to ask her that.”

“So are you going to keep an eye on her?”

“Yes. I think Robin could use some practice in long-term surveillance for a few weeks. Just to make sure she doesn’t go bad or get into too much trouble.”

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Batman considered the data gathered over three weeks of surveillance by Robin and Batgirl. After the first report came he had joined them himself, to see what they’d seen.

~ooO Begin Flashback ~o~

“What is she doing in Old Gotham?” Batman growled.

“She is doing rounds. She always visits the sites of local shootings once the police have completed their investigations.” Robin’s voice held a mixture of suppressed fear and awe. “You should see it for yourself.”

And then the younger vigilante led his mentor and partner across the side-alleys and deserted parking lots and abandoned office buildings occupied by the homeless and gangs, depending on who held that particular street that week.

At each location Robin pointed out a specific feature that Batman knew hadn’t been there before. Memorials created from concrete, stone, metal and tar. Concrete slabs and pillars scavenged from near-by buildings and brought over. Heavy chunks shaped and polished by some unknown force into small statues and markers emerging from the tar like survivors rising from darkness. Dates and names were etched into the smooth surfaces in smooth elegant script. Scrap metal from abandoned car shells, torn down fencing or shutters twisted into intricate shapes, some abstract and some surreal. Memorials that were hidden by the shadows and debris and junk. Memorials for the dead.

“I cross referenced the names, dates, and locations.” Robin reported soberly. “They were mainly residents who died violently. Some were gang members, some were honest labourers, most were too young.”

Then Robin led Batman to a particular alley. Batman winced. He recognized it. Nearly twenty people died in a shoot out seven months back, a dozen of them children. No one had called it in until it was too late. By the time they reached this part of the city the guilty parties responsible had fled and there was only one survivor who died before the EMTs arrived.

He touched the letters engraved on the mirror slick concrete slab leaning against the alley wall. His gloved fingers lingered on the last one. Amanda Jackson, an eight-year-old girl who bled out and died in his arms.

Around the names were pictorial carvings; flowers, stars, teddy bears, fishes, cars and rockets, and all sorts of things that would have fascinated children. At the base of the slab some people had left flowers, daisies carnations tulips and lilies that had long wilted and fallen into fragments.

Then Robin knelt and touched the holly bushes that had somehow grown Out of the tar, pushed and crumbled the asphalt surface enough to push through. It was a fragile looking thing, just knee-high but with thick glossy leaves and bright red berries ripe out of season.

“I saw her do this Batman.”

“Do what?”

“She made this bush grow out of the ground. Like Poison Ivy. Only the holly bush isn’t animate and feral.” Robin’s voice was awed. “She knelt on the ground and touched both palms to the asphalt. Then her hands glowed green and white. When she lifted them away the energy poured into the ground. A few seconds later the tar buckled and crumbled enough for the busy to emerge. It kept growing as she kept her hands over it. When she moved away it stopped growing. I’ve tested it. It is a perfectly ordinary but very healthy holly bush. No toxins, chemicals, mutagens or anything like that.”

In another alley Robin showed Batman a rusty car frame that had been taken apart and twisted into a silhouette reaching for the sky with slender metal arms. Josiah Rhinehart, a basketball player good enough to qualify for an athletic scholarship at GCU.

On a corner near a convenience store there were three chest-high silhouettes holding hands. Three teenage girls who died when the abusive ex-boyfriend of one brought his friends to make his ex regret her choice.

A mural of arcs and stars blasted onto an apartment wall near the back. One shooting star for each of those who died in that apartment building or the parking lot behind. Each star was a metal plate somehow fused into the brick; a plate etched with a date and initials.

Robin’s expression was sober. “I cross-referenced all the dates and information. Some of them are known, others are unknown. Some of the names are missing cases that were never closed. If I’m right and these are all memorials then they are also dead.” He looked at Batman. “You said she’s a… Necroscope right?”

“Yes.”

“Then she must have communicated with their ghosts. None of their families believe they are still alive but no bodies have been found. In some cases the police believe they just skipped town without letting anyone know.”

“Have you talked with the locals?”

“Yes. None of them know anything about how the memorials were created. Or if they do they aren’t talking. One day there is nothing and the next there it is. Some of the local gangs tried make damaging them a rite of membership.” Robin swallowed hard. “The kids who tried that were thrown into the wall by some unknown force. One arm and one leg were twisted in opposite directions causing severe greenstick fractures. After that several of the residents began making it a point to stop and grieve and remember. Some of the local pastors started holding informal sermons at these locations. When the gangs tried to interfere they received the same treatment. Then some punk pointed out all of the weirdness began after the Veiled Lady started showing up so some of the leaders tried to make an example of her. Everyone knew the Veiled Lady always stopped at these monuments during her walking circuit so they laid a trap.

“Elena Pereira said Tomas Viterro was flayed raw with whips of air and fire. He only survived because the fire seared the wounds shut and slowed the blood loss. When his gang tried to attack her they received the same treatment. She was very specific. Her attacks damaged the major muscle groups and tendons. Her victims can no longer handle sudden bursts of intense muscular strain, only slow gradual increases. The local clinic couldn’t do anything but suggest full reconstructive surgery with no hope of 100% recovery. They can still move and work but not fast or quick enough to pull heists or run from the law. Most of the gang moved to other areas and took up more honest work or the support service roles in other gangs like chop shops and repacking. No gang has dared to target her after that. Besides she doesn’t actively go against them, or even try to interfere. She earned their respect by the informal healing work she does with Maria Lopez. They don’t like going to Dr. Leslie Thompkins free clinic for treatment.”

“So she has a standing in the local hierarchy.”

“Yeah. Don’t mess with her unless you want to get hurt real bad.” Robin grinned. “It was odd seeing Rocco Vecchio act like a gentleman.”

Batman blinked. “Excuse me?” Rocco Vecchio was the leader of one of the three Big Ones in Crime Alley. He was loud, crude, and had no respect for females.

“Yeah. I saw her stop by Lupe Gomez. She is one of Rocco’s girls. I found out Veiled Lady was treating Rocco’s kids for asthma. The three older ones were running around not looking blue and sickly like they usually do.”

“Treating?” Batman’s voice was sharp and inquiring.

“I looked in the window. She touched the kids chest and back. Her hands glowed like when she made the plant grow. After that they stopped coughing so hard and could breathe deeper without wheezing.”

“A cure or a treatment?”

Robin thought hard. “A treatment. She makes regular stops enough for the kids to hang around her and whine when she left. And for Rocco to not act like an ass.” Robin sighed. “If she has Healing Hands she could make a fortune healing the really sick.”

Batman shook his head. “That is the last thing she wants to do. Draw attention.” Robin was confused. “If she heals middle-class or wealthy individuals they will go to the press. If her name and picture goes in the papers it will draw attention she doesn’t want. And there will be demands on her by the ultra-wealthy and powerful seeking to control her and her abilities like a commodity.”

“Then why don’t the gangs tell the mob?”

“Because they know she is powerful and not afraid to kill and cause permanent damage.” Batman replied slowly. “And by that same token they know she will not interfere in their activities so long as they do not try to interfere with hers.”

Robin frowned. “If they are afraid of her why doesn’t she stop them from committing crimes and killing?” He wanted to know.

Batman thought for a long moment. “I’m not certain. That’s something only she knows the answer to.”

~o~ End Flashback Ooo~

And what Batman witnessed with his own eyes was… astonishing.

~ooO Begin Flashback ~o~

Batman threw himself forward into a roll and just managed to cross the line of hematite chunks before a thin thread of lightening jumped connecting each stone to the two closest. It had been pure instinct that made him move and dive forward instead of maintaining his observation position in one of the empty buildings close by.

“Batman … Okay?”

He could hear Robins voice over the commlink. The connection was faint and crackling.

“I’m here.”

“… Can’t see….” Robin admitted. “Stones … Energy discharge … Hazy.”

“What about the passer-bys?”

“… Not aware … Batgirl … doesn’t see … Aversion field affect… outside … Reason … Not … Affected … Looking when … Activated.”

“The connection is bad Robin. Hold position and observe. Batman out.”

He watched from behind a pile of rusted out hulks and broken crates as the Veiled Lady lifted her veil removed her pillbox hat to carefully store it in her ever present Neiman Marcus shopping bag. Then she carefully removed the pins securing her updo and allowed her hair to fall past her shoulders and down her back. As her fingers massaged her scalp she toed off her sling-back shoes and buried her toes in dry dusty soil and looked around.

The lot once held a row of townhouses that were burn out and later demolished for safety reasons. Ever since it was used as an unofficial dumping ground for larger pieces of junk and a playground for the younger residents. Weeds and vines managed to claim back some of the land but the effect was patched and tired looking. In some places the brick and asphalt refused to yield causing the green things to grow haphazardly around the man made creations.

As she rolled her shoulders she picked up the shoes and dropped them in the bag before undoing the buttons running down the side of her skirt. Batman watched with wide eyes as she reached for the hooks and buttons securing her dark blue wrap-around skirt at the waist and removed the garment, dropping it carelessly into the bag. The charcoal wool blazer followed the skirt leaving her dressed in just a pale blue thigh-long cotton shirt and her undergarments. She reached for the buttons of her blouse just as a strong gust of wind blew through the lot making her shiver enough to change her mind. Instead she undid the cuffs and rolled the sleeves back to her elbows.

He could see the blades she carried in forearm sheathes and the larger one carried in an inner-thigh holster. Batman wondered if she carried them everywhere or just when moving around Old Gotham. He smirked. Those would definitely be deterrents for any male trying to take advantage of her. He wondered if there were others hidden elsewhere. Firmly he brought his mind to the present and watched.

She used one of the knives to make a series of shallow cuts on her lower limbs and hands. Blood flowed freely staining the tar and dirt. And as she walked around the lots grasses struggled and broke through the asphalt creating small then bigger cracks. Then vines followed in the wake of the grasses further destroying the brick, tar, and concrete relics leaving crumbly expanses of land where shrubs and plants began to bloom from the seeds she cast from a small green silk pouch she had hidden in her bra.

She forced months, years of growth in a matter of minutes, traversing the lot in a spiral working from the inside out. In her wake green bloomed and flourished. She stopped frequently to ‘help’ a bush reach a more advanced state of growth where it would not require frequent tending. Where the bricks and concrete were too strong and stable she grew vines, a profusion of flowering climbers that used the structures as a trellis, creating small nooks and hidey-holes for visitors.

Batman noticed all the plants blooming were ‘wild’ varieties that would not require a lot of water or care. She was creating a natural meadow or young forest. She opened a small pipe leading to the city water mains to create a small step waterfall and shallow pool using the rubble from the asphalt, brick and concrete to line the pond.

And as she walked she bled and became paler and wearier looking. By the time she reached the outer edges of the lot she was swaying from fatigue and Batman had to resist the urge to dart forward to keep her from collapsing and hurting herself.

But she didn’t fall. Using a steel bar scavenged from the debris as a staff she made her way to the center of the lot and half fell half sat on a slab of concrete. It was a full five minutes before she got enough of a second wind to grab her bag, pull out an individual sized wine bottle and uncork it. She took a hefty swig directly from it and cursed as some of the green liquid spilled down her blouse. Her hands were shaking too hard.

She waited until the tremors stopped before she drank more slowly. The effect on her was noticeable. She wasn’t shaking as badly or as pale. The bleeding slowed. Then she produced a handkerchief and started treating her wounds with dabs of green liquid from the wine bottle. The substance was instantly absorbed by her skin leaving almost closed wounds or pink scars. Some sort of medicine that could be taken orally or topically.

He wondered if it would have the same effects on non-magicals. He watched as small hands raked the mass of brown curls back and twisted it into an untidy knot anchored by two pairs of chopsticks she had picked up from the Chinese place where she ate lunch. Then she wiped away the blood and dirt and put on her clothes, tidying herself up in the process. Unrolled sleeves, skirt on, shoes on, hat on, jacket on.

She tilted the wine bottle to drink the last drops of the healing brew it contained and dropped the bottle in the bag. Batman wished she had discarded it. He really wanted to get a sample to find out what it contained. He watched as she bit the fleshy part of her thumb and swiped the blood on one of the hematite stones causing the energy thread to break and fade away. She seemed preoccupied and tired walked around the perimeter of the lot collecting the stones and storing them in her bag. When she was done she strode out of the lot and greeted a group of teens across the street.

She waved her hand and pointed at the lot behind her. “You can use this now. But remember the usual rules apply.”

The teens and pre-teens grinned broadly and cheered before speaking in chorus. “Cleared places are public spaces. No gang can claim them.”

Then the leader spoke in high but not childish tones.

“Don’t worry Veiled Lady. We’ll pass the word.” The girl looked concerned. “Do you need any help? Or anything to eat?”

Hermione waved her hand and shook her head.

“I’m fine. Just follow the rules. Ask around if anyone wants to grow specific plants. There are small nooks that will be taken over in a few months by the vines.”

The girl nodded. “I will.”

Hermione nodded. “The animals and birds will start coming. Usual rules apply. If I find anyone killing or maiming them I will set a Nightmare on the one responsible.” Her voice was hard and unrelenting.

The teens shivered and nodded in unison.

“We won’t.” The youngest boy vowed.

She studied them hard before she nodded, apparently satisfied. “Good. Let your mothers and Maria know I’ll be busy next week.”

~o~ End Flashback Ooo~

He had trailed her out of Old Gotham where she switched jackets and removed her hat before catching a bus and later getting on a train. After a quick snack she stopped by a library and ran a homework club session that ran late. On the way home she did some grocery shopping before going home and falling asleep.

According to the surveillance reports this was typical of her evening and weekend routines. She did not have a social life where she met friends and had fun. She helped teenagers with homework and personal problems, she counselled their mothers and adult siblings, she forced the jostling gang power factions into equilibrium, she advised the ‘elders’ and ‘leaders’ in Old Gotham, and at least once a month she did a major casting that left her drained and exhausted. The only time she did not have any major drain on her resources and energies was when she walked through the cemeteries.

~ooO Begin Flashback ~o~

Matches Malone watched from a discreet distance as Hermione Granger made a slow circuit through the cemetery. Occasionally she stopped to bring new life to flowers and shrubs planted by mourners. Sometimes she sat down beside one of the newer graves and leaned on the headstone like it was the shoulder of a friend while having a one-sided conversation with thin air.

She talked about things happening in the world, in America, in Gotham, in Crime Alley: the Rogues, the mobs, local police and the city council, big businesses, and the economy. What was good, what was bad, what had changed, what was disliked.

And Matches followed as she walked to the older well-maintained family plots. Usually she only stuck to the cemeteries used by the poor and middle-class of Gotham, and the graves belonging to victims of violent crimes. Today for some reason she had chosen to visit a more expensive cemetery and stop by the Wayne Family Plot.

She paid her respects to each grave as she worked her way through the old weathered headstones until she came to a particular pair belonging to Thomas and Martha Wayne. This time she did not sit against the headstone but chose to kneel at the foot of the graves to have a full view of the headstones. It wasn’t too difficult to eavesdrop using a mausoleum as cover.

“Hello Martha. I’m sorry for not stopping by sooner but I thought you would have preferred if I kept up with my rounds. The living do have a higher priority than the dead. It is nice to finally get the chance to talk to you; most of the other dead want to know what is happening in the living world but you want to know what is happening in my life. I am sorry I cannot tell you more about what is happening in your son’s life. We don’t travel in exactly the same social circles you know.”

She tilted her head to one side. “I don’t know; there is always a picture of him attending some event with some pretty girl. Nothing too serious though.” She frowned slightly. “I’m not sure how seriously to take it though. It seems like a lot of window dressing designed to distract whatever is behind the colour.”

She blinked. “I would never!” She scowled. “All right, you don’t have to tell me.” Then she smirked. “And since you aren’t then allow me to have my own opinions. Bruce Wayne is a shallow selfish egotistical playboy.”

He wasn’t quite sure whether he believed in the speaking to the dead aspects of her powers but it still stung if she really was talking to his mother.

“Really? How cute!” Hermione squealed clapping her hands. Then she stopped. “Oh dear! Are you sure? ... Oh all right, I won’t tell.” She chuckled, a low throaty sound. “I can see how it would be embarrassing for a grown man but all little boys play pretend games of heroes and villains. Too bad, those pictures of him dressing up as the Grey Ghost, running around with a sheet tied around his neck as a cape, would be worth a fortune to any tabloid.”

He swallowed hard. The Grey Ghost had been his hero as a child. He had often tied a sheet as a cape and play games of pretend. The photos his mother had taken were probably in some album buried in the attics of Wayne Manor.

Then Hermione leaned across from the foot of the grave until she was lying across Martha Wayne’s grave on her belly, her head a foot away from the base of the headstone.

“Andrea Beaumont? I looked her up. There were rumours in the tabloids more than fifteen years back but nothing came of it. She left Gotham with her father. When she returned a few years ago they went out but then she vanished. A few spirits mentioned she had only returned to get revenge on some mob boss who killed her father.”

He paled. Where had she heard that name? How did she know Andrea had returned to Gotham as the Phantasm to get revenge?

Hermione twisted so she was lying on her side, her head propped up on one hand.

“Veronica Vreeland seems to believe he is attached to Selina Kyle. I’m not quite sure it is a healthy relationship though. She seems to specialize in leaving just as their relationship seems to be reaching a turning point.” A pause. “No I am not being catty, Selina Kyle is.” Hermione huffed. “Do you really want your son to marry a criminal? … I’m sure she loves him as much as she can but it isn’t a healthy or stable relationship for either of them. … Well he does date when she leaves Gotham but almost everyone believes they’ll get back together when she returns. And she does do that sporadically.” She laughed. “Okay I’m being mean! I mean he is gorgeous, wealthy, with good genes … Why is she chasing after some vicarious thrill? Doesn’t she want to leave behind a lasting legacy? A positive mark other than daring thievery?”

He winced internally. She was making a little too much sense. Was she right about Selina and him having an unhealthy relationship? If he didn’t make excuses for Selina then Hermione was right; Selina did have the habit of running from commitments.

One small outstretched hand caressed the manicured grass.

“Family. Good memories. Friends. Hope.” Then she rolled onto her back, arms flung out. “I don’t know. For a while I thought Ron was the One.” She dashed away tears. “What am I supposed to do? Lie to every guy I date? Or tell the truth and see the attraction and interest turn to fear?” She stared straight into the cloudy skies. “I can’t. How am I supposed to explain what I can do? What I need to do? Or why I don’t want to leave Gotham despite the Rogues, the danger and the negative reputation.”

Absently she tugged off one glove using teeth on the tips of the fingers before she rolled on her side and reached out. Her bare fingers brushed the dried and almost petal free stems resting at the base of the headstone. Fluidly she sat up and brushed the brittle cut stems over her lips. Thorns began to sprout from the dead wood, stabbing into her lips and fingers drawing blood. Carefully she set the sticks perpendicular to the grass and held it with faintly glowing and bleeding fingers. In seconds smaller branches and leaves began sprouting from the one foot long almost dead stick of wood. In a few minutes it had bloomed into a small but luxuriant rose bush with the palest peach buds ripening and unfurling into large but fragrant blooms. She broke off two of the blooms and placed them at the base of the Wayne headstones with a warm smile.

“I don’t know why your son brings red roses when you preferred peach and yellow roses.” She grinned. “He’s probably so used to ordering red roses for all his girlfriends.” She chuckled warmly. “I’m not going to tell him anything. Let him figure out how a rose bush got planted on your grave.”

~o~ End Flashback Ooo~

Bruce had made it a point to ask Alfred about his mother’s favourite flowers. Like Hermione Granger had said Martha Wayne had loved peach and yellow roses, the sign of friendship. Bruce had only remembered his father giving her red roses, a sign of romantic love, on their anniversaries. But there was always a vase containing a single peach rose in the rooms most often used by his mother. To Bruce it was simply part of the décor, for his mother it was a reminder of the strong respect and affection she shared with her husband.

Wanting to know more he accompanied Robin on his rounds tracking Hermione Granger and came across more fragments of information about magical families and enclaves. The surprising knowledge that many Crime Alleys residents knew about magic and how it could be used for their benefit.

~ooO Begin Flashback ~o~

“Yanet, has everyone agreed?”

The middle-aged woman with greying blonde hair nodded vigorously before speaking in a heavily accented voice.

“Oh yes milady. My daughter’s brother-in-law is the apartment manager. Most of the residents agreed to contribute.” She picked up a picnic cooler and placed it on the table before them and opened it.

Batman watched warily through binoculars across the street, listening through a parabolic mic pointed at Yanet Ivanovka’s apartment window. What were the residents of Crime Alley contributing? And why? Was it exotic food or drugs from an illicit source?

His eyes widened when he saw just what Ivanovka was removing from the cooler; small vials of dark reddish liquid. Was that blood?

“My daughter-in-laws second cousin is a receptionist at Dr. Thompkins clinic. She managed to swipe a packet of needles and syringes.” Yanet assured the Veiled Lady. “Ilsa drew the blood herself. All in the last two hours. You can still use it right?” Yanet looked anxious. “My grand-mother said fresh blood is best.”

Hermione Granger sighed. “I can but are you sure Yanet? You will be binding yourself to this apartment building for a full year. And every year it will need to be renewed.”

Yanet lifted her chin. “I am sure Veiled Lady. My children were born here. My grand-children live here. My friends and family have died here. No more. Please. I asked a cousin who still speaks to me if she could refer a warder but all of them refuse to even step into Gotham.”

“You are a squib?”

“Yes milady. When I didn’t receive an invitation to one of the schools my family cast me out. I met my husband in the orphanage. When Piotr received the job in Gotham I followed him.” Yanet’s mouth trembled. “If I had known I would have begged him to stay in Chicago. He probably would have had to work in the railway yards as a loader but he would still be alive.”

Hermione shook her head. “You cannot know that Yanet.”

Yanet rubbed her tears away. “He was a good husband. A good father. When he and my eldest boy were killed it nearly destroyed me. My other children were the only reason why I kept going. I begged my family for help… to help us move back to Chicago but my father sent the letter back saying he had no daughter named Yanet. My mother was always weak… I doubt she fought him on it.”

Hermione thought hard. “Okay. I’ll ward this building but you must understand it will not be a complete protection. I’m layering it on top so it will need to be renewed. A proper warding is Built into the foundations and supporting columns. I can only set up nets for old traditional protections in the entry points and public areas. Calm down. Peace and Tranquility. Look by me. Rest and hide.”

Yanet nodded vigorously. “Boris has agreed to not paint over any markings you make. No one else will care about blood stains or marks in this building.”

Hermione touched the older woman’s face. “Are you sure you want to do this? It will be a personal drain on your energy.”

“If it keeps my family and kin safe I do not mind.” Yanet smiled sadly. “It is kind of you to ask milady. My father never asked when he did his rituals.”

“He is a barbarian. A prejudiced bigoted ignorant arrogant fool!” Hermione snarled. “You do not take! Not without permission!”

“I am willing milady.”

Hermione nodded. “Very well. Call anyone willing to be anchors for the warding.”

~o~ End Flashback Ooo~

Batman had watched fascinated and horrified as Hermione Granger executed a ritual. She chopped herbs and crushed minerals before blending and cooking various substances and the blood (from the vials, and drawn from herself and her audience) into a thick paste. After infusing it with her power she used it as paint with a brush made with twig of holly to make markings on the lintels and sides of every entry point, on the cornerstones and supporting pillars of every floor, above every apartment door. The ones hidden or outside were thicker and larger but the ones inside were smaller and more delicate, almost unnoticeable in the poorly lit corridors and hallways. The remaining paste was divided among the elder residents who were primary participants. The substance was stored in small glass vials and secreted in the religious shrines each of them had in one corner of their small but neat apartments.

Batman and Robin took photos from every angle they could and a thorough research into very obscure linguistic sources revealed the symbols, glyphs, markings were a combination of Norse runes and other extinct languages all of which represented protection, safety, health, sanctuary, and other unknown concepts. Careful observation of the apartment building proved the glyphs had some sort of effect. Gangs tracking a victim failed to follow said target into the apartment building. Predators seeking violence could not enter, did not want to enter; instead they choose to target those living across the street.

Within a few weeks other small neighbourhood watch groups approached the Veiled Lady with similar requests. In most cases she agreed, in a few she refused saying the building was not suitable for warding. The residents who asked her ended up moving into buildings that were already warded. The net effect was the more peaceable residents of Crime Alley were less at risk in their own homes. The warded apartment buildings were much safer than the rest of the neighbourhood. There were still break-ins and killings but at a much reduced rate than before.

Batman was certain that the property caretakers and rent collectors were definitely aware of what Hermione Granger was doing and they were not informing the property owners of the new situation. If the owners knew their buildings were safer than others they most definitely would have tried to increase the rent, driving out the families currently residing there.

A conversation with Jason Blood revealed more information about the magical enclaves, traditional pureblood families who refused to acknowledge ‘squibs’ and saw them as lesser or handicapped beings, a community that looked down on first generation magic users without the lineage or influence of a magical family, one which bound and exiled Necroscopes. What he heard about their society, culture, and laws did not reassure him about their general intelligence, competence, or compassion for those less fortunate.

Everything indicated she was a stable responsible civic-minded woman. Just who and what had driven her to America? To Gotham, the most corrupt and dissolute city on the East Coast? How had she survived more than a year of being bound? How could she still do magic? Why hadn’t she gone insane like all past Necroscopes? Did she have someone who she could talk to, someone who stabilized and anchored her like Alfred stabilized Bruce Wayne and Batman? He needed to know. He needed to talk to her.

Chapter Text

Hermione came awake with a jolt. Something was wrong. Instinctively she reached under her pillow for a knife. Blood would help her channel magic in a pinch. Then she saw the silhouette against the streetlight glowing through the white curtains. Batman.

She rolled out of bed uncaring he could see her legs almost to the tops of her thighs. She liked to sleep in oversized men’s t-shirts. She dragged a flannel robe on and tied the belt.

“What do you want?” She asked grumpily. She was not in the mood to hear any of his lectures. She had thought she had seen the last of him with The Joker.

“I know you were bound and exiled. Everyone I speak to say you are a threat. I want the details. Why you are still alive and why aren’t you insane?”

Hermione paled. Her hands trembled. “You know…?”

“Yes. But I want to hear it from you.” His voice softened a tad. “Tell me.”

She rubbed the side of her face before scraping her hair back. Loose strands had escaped from the braid forming a fuzzy halo around her head.

“This is going to be a long story. I need coffee. And alcohol.” She mumbled.

Batman followed her into the kitchen and watched as she put the coffee to brew while she opened several cabinets before producing a bottle of sherry.

“You know I have a roommate.” She mumbled as she prepared an extra large mug of coffee black with plenty of sugar. Tears dripped down her face. Her mother was no longer alive to nag at her about eating processed sugar.

“She spends every other night with her boyfriend.” Batman countered imperviously.

Hermione added a large dash of sherry and took a gulp of the hot liquid.

“I didn’t know you were stalking me.” She grumbled.

“I am concerned.” He pointed out. “Of a potential unknown threat in my city.”

Hazel eyes turned to molten gold. “This is my home too!”

He stared at her hard. “Then tell me.”

And she did.

She spoke of the odd things that happened when she was a child. How relieved she was to get a letter when she turned eleven, to find out she wasn’t Odd. The excitement and challenge of studying magic, the prejudice and scorn from the old families. The bigotry, racism, unfair laws, oblivious citizenry at every level of Wizarding society. The past Dark Lords, the most recent war she fought in as a teenager. How happy she was when it was all over and done, she was alive, her friends were alive, her parents unhappy with her actions but alive. And then being captured by Andros Carrow.

Her voice was unnaturally calm; her eyes dry as she explained Andros Carrow was not actively prosecuted since there were others who had committed more serious crimes. He was let off on a plea bargain consisting of a hefty bribes and lip-service. Everyone had believed he would not do anything stupid, not with the entire community having twitchy reflexes coming out of a war. But he did. He gathered like minded revenge seeking friends and chose to target a Muggleborn.

“I won’t tell you what happened. Suffice to say they did everything but rape me. I was not worthy of being touched by anything but their fists and feet. When they brought my parents in I nearly broke. I would have done anything to save them. Anything. It took my father eight hours to die. My mother died thirty minutes later. When she died the last thing she did was forgive me. For modifying their memories and sending them away. Said she understood now why I did it. To save them from that.” Her voice was filled with hatred and self-loathing. “But I didn’t save them! They were still targeted and killed!”

Batman shifted. “You did what you could. You didn’t know.”

Hermione shook her head and scraped her hair back. By now her hair was out of its braid and falling in front of her shoulders.

“I should have. I’ve seen how prideful the purebloods are. They remember every slight. They never let anything go.”

“You are not responsible for the actions of others.” Batman’s voice was harsh. “What happened next?”

“I lost it. Everything was light and fire.” Her voice was wondering. “My parents were there. They hugged me and told me everything was going to be all right. There were a few others as well, a retired Sergeant, a teacher and a pilot. They had been killed in that warehouse just a few hours before my parents died. And then I blacked out. When I woke up I was in the hospital. I didn’t understand why I was in a non-magical hospital until the Aurors came and took me before the Wizengamot. The two weeks I was in a coma they had been debating my future and no one bothered speaking up for me. Even Harry.” Her pain was very clear. “I thought he would have helped me. He knew about enclave prejudice. Everyone always said a wizard who could understand snakes, a Parselmouth, would be a Dark Lord. Harry could and when the whole school turned against him… But I didn’t; it was just a talent, not something to be terrified of.”

“What happened?” He asked gently.

“Everything had already been settled. They were just waiting for me to wake up for the Binding Ritual. I did not even have a chance to protest or argue in my defence.” She laughed, a harsh bitter sound. “My favourite teacher, my mentor was one of those who cast the Binding on me. When it was done they dropped me off at my parents’ house. If it wasn’t for Mummy and Daddy’s dental practice partners and lawyers showing up, I probably would have killed myself that week. They kept me anchored and sort of stable while they helped me deal with the estate and financial matters. Once I made the funeral arrangements, sold their interest in the practice, the house, and settled all the mortgages and debts, there was a small sum left over. I used it to live while I studied for my O-levels. Then I applied for a job at Wayne Enterprises. One of my mother’s friends worked in H.R. She set-up the interview and gave me a reference.”

Batman nodded slowly. “Why did you choose to take the transfer out of London? Why did you choose Gotham?”

She swirled her cup and took a gulp of the cooling coffee before answering.

“I couldn’t stay in London. Everywhere I turned it itched. The binding. It creates a psychosomatic reaction in the bound and any magic user within range. There are too many wizards in England. Even if I avoided the enclaves the Halfbloods and Muggleborns still move in non-magical society.” She inhaled deeply. “My bed-sit was trashed a couple of times. There was no sign of forced entry. I took it as a sign to get out. I chose America because it is across the ocean and so big. There is less chance of bumping into wizards here. The ratio of magicals to Muggles is quite low.”

“Then why choose Gotham?”

“Because there are no trained wizards or witches in Gotham.”

Batman’s eyes widened in disbelief. “None? I find that hard to believe. Some of the gangs believe in magic. There are occult experts who live here.”

“But they aren’t enclave trained wand-users.” Hermione pressed. “There is something about Gotham that makes it very uncomfortable for them.”

Batman frowned. “Do you know why?”

“I believe I do.”

“And?” He growled when she did not expand.

She stared at him before making a decision. “This is just a personal theory. I don’t know how correct or accurate it is.” She warned. He merely stared at her. She sighed internally before she began explaining. “How much do you know of the local history?”

“Quite a lot actually. The Dutch bought the land as it were from the Iroquois and it was taken over by the English.”

Hermione nodded. “The Iroquois warned the Dutch that the land was… odd. It changes. The Europeans ignored the local superstition and went ahead and settled it. People moved in and the city grew. The land did not change until after the Great Depression. Too many people were suffering. Their suffering began to change the land.”

Batman’s eyes widened. “What?!?”

She held up a hand. “Remember this is just my theory.” She stressed. “Do you ever wonder why the residents are so quick to believe the worst, to resort to violence? Crime Alley and Arkham are just two places where darkness dominates the people.” She rubbed her arms. “Every time I walk on the streets I feel it; the heavy air, the almost taint-like feel in certain places. I checked with an information broker from the Salem Enclave. In the past there were fifteen students accepted from Gotham, and they all went bad. The wand-users have marked Gotham as No Wizards Land and strongly encourage wizards to avoid the city. The depression, the crime families, the Rogues… they haven’t helped either. Muggleborns in Gotham will never be offered training.” She smiled bitterly. “Just like all Necroscopes are sentenced to be bound. It is unfortunate. I know a few Crime Alley residents who could have easily been wand-users if they had the training. Maria Lopez, a naturopathic herbalist and healer. And there is Ramona Hernandez who will take over from Maria eventually. Enrico Carrero is a mechanic but he feels magical.”

Batman considered the information. “What is your theory? What is causing the taint? The negative atmosphere?”

She stood up and left the kitchenette. A few seconds later she returned with a phone book she placed on the table between them. She flipped through the pages until she came to a map of Gotham depicting the mainland and the three primary islands.

“I managed to find some old Iroquois myths that gave me the first clues. I believe Gotham is sitting on a tangled web of leylines; magic and power produced by the Earth itself. It would have made the land very fertile and attractive to settlers. Unfortunately such lands are also very sensitive to people living on it. When people despaired the nodes became tainted affecting the people living close by. As their hearts became darker the land reflected that darkness.” She tapped the locations of Crime Alley and Arkham Asylum on the map. “The oldest parts of the city and the darkest; everything else feeds on and reflects off the core.”

Batman frowned. He had heard of leylines and nodes in his research. They were also things Blood had mentioned in passing.

“Why hasn’t this happened more often and in other cities?” Batman wanted to know.

“Nodes are usually claimed by the local religion as consecrated grounds. Lands tended by trained priests tend to stay pure because they are cleansed by special rituals developed by that particular religion.”

Batman scowled. “Then what do you suggest? Get a couple of tankers of holy water and flood the streets?”

Hermione had to smile. “I’m afraid that would not have much of an effect. The nodes and leylines themselves have to be cleansed.” Then her eyes sharpened. “I would strongly suggest not approaching which ever local priest you trust. The land has been tainted for decades. It will take a major ritual to purify. After that the churches can keep the nodes untainted.”

He stared at her. “Can you do it?”

Hermione poured sherry into her empty cup and sipped. “Why are you asking me?” She asked sardonically. “I’m the bound one remember?”

Eyes hidden behind white lenses bored into her. “No. You are not bound; not completely. You can use magic.” His voice was certain. “I’ve seen it.”

Her hands trembled. “The Joker was a fluke. The death energy charged me up.”

“And what of the cemeteries? The vacant lots you’ve made into gardens? The memorial monuments of stone and steel?” He cocked his head. “You are changing things in The Narrows and Crime Alley. There is hope there, hope and light. If you can do it there why can’t you do it for all of Gotham?”

“NO!” She took a deep swallow of alcohol ignoring the burn in her throat.

“Why not?”

“Just Because!” She snarled and looked away.

He did not relent. “Tell me.”

She picked up her coffee cup and began to pace around her small living room. Between sips she talked very fast, almost absently.

“Gotham has become my home; my sanctuary, my haven. No one sneers at me for being a Muggleborn witch and a Necroscope. I don’t have to fear bumping into a wizard or being attacked by one of them. I do what I do in the poorer districts because I want to make their lives better; because I serve the living and the dead, because I ask the spirits and make no personal demands they look favourably on me. The dead are willing to work with me to channel magic that will protect and help their still living relatives and friends.

“But if I work on too big a scale the enclaves will notice. They will come looking.” She stopped and stared at him. “They will want to know who is using large scale magic. They will find me. And they will know I am supposed to be: a Bound Necroscope. Since the Binding is clearly not working as it is supposed to, they will kill me.” She smiled bitterly. “You can’t stop them. That day I will vanish, just another missing statistic in Gotham.”

Batman was silent. “If you weren’t worried about Them could you do it?”

She was quiet while she considered the question. “Maybe. I don’t know. I would need a lot of money to locate and buy the necessary books and tools, perhaps hire a middle-man since I cannot go into the enclaves myself. I’d have to spend even more time mapping Gotham to trace the leylines and find the exact location of the nodes. If they are within residential areas the land has to be bought for whatever religious group who is going to be made responsible for keeping it untainted. And I don’t trust big organized religions that much. I would prefer if the land is kept in trust and leased for say 99 years to a local church group at a very nominal rent.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “But none of this matters. The moment a wand-user notices Gotham is recovering the wand-user immigration will start. And I will be in danger.”

Batman wanted to shout at her. How could she be so selfish to hold her own personal safety over an entire city? But then he remembered she was a civilian. A civilian who fought a war to protect others and was then betrayed by the same society she helped to save. Why would she care for the whole when a whole betrayed her? She looked at the people, the individuals who needed her.

She chewed on her lower lip. “I plan on continuing with what I am currently doing. I will keep up with my circuits to renew the protections in Old Gotham.” She hesitated. “You can find someone else to do the research and purification.” She inhaled deeply. “Just let me know if it works. So I can get out of Gotham.”

Batman stood up and took her hands. He looked down at her. “What would it take to make you change your mind about trying?”

She laughed, a half-sob half-choked sound. “If you can keep the wizards out of Gotham I will definitely try. No, I Will purify the nodes.”

Batman considered that. A perfectly reasonable request. She had been here first; she merely wanted to stay. Besides he didn’t like the idea of wand-users moving into Gotham with their prejudice, bigotry, and abusive laws. No; Gotham was His City. But how to keep an entire group of people Out? How closely did the enclaves obey the Declaration of Independence? Not very given what he’d heard about their communities.

“Is it possible to keep them out? From what you’ve told me the enclaves are very feudal and rule bound. What are the rules about them forming new enclaves? Can they do that anywhere they feel like or are there certain criteria that must be met?”

Hermione blinked and thought hard. “The ICW rules are pretty standard. Any wizard can start an enclave in unclaimed territory. Whether it is open unused land or a Muggle city. I know Chicago has three enclaves held by three different consortiums.”

Batman frowned. “But all the land here is held by non-magicals.” He pointed out.

“They don’t matter in a wizards view. If 0.25 square miles of every 4 square miles is held by a witch or wizard that area is considered as Claimed. Another wizard cannot move in and form an enclave. The rules were made to stop friction between different groups. You would need to get permission from the wizard with the Claim before you can buy land and move in. If you didn’t get it you would buy land elsewhere, usually just outside his Claim. Many magical families would join and form a consortium to buy Claim plots to create a buffer zone and the land that will actually be developed in a narrow strip. The strips form Alleys that are then hidden from the Muggle population.”

Batman nodded. “Stop calling us Muggles.”

“Excuse me?”

“Muggles sound like a derogatory term.” Batman pointed out bluntly. “It is something They use. Think of something else.”

Hermione considered his words. “What do you think of mundanes?”

“Are we really mundane?”

Hermione had the impression he was raising an eyebrow under his cowl. “Then what about mortals?”

“Accurate. Mortal, meta, mage.” He noticed her surprised expression. “Mage seems to be a more suitable gender neutral term.”

Hermione smiled faintly. “You are right. Mage.” She nodded firmly. “I like it. I also think newblood sounds better than Muggleborn. And oldblood makes more sense than pureblood.”

Batman nodded. “You said the ownership has to be held by a mage? A wand-user?”

Hermione made a face. “Yes! And trust me I definitely don’t have enough money to buy land on that scale.”

“If the land is held in trust for you would that work?”

Hermione blinked. “Actually yes. They may have tried to bind me but I can still do magic. My wand was snapped but I have increased my wandless and wordless magic…” She looked at him. “But who has that much money?” Then she made a face. “Correction, who has that much money and is willing to spend it on a very slim possibility of saving Gotham, the most dangerous city in America?”

“Let me worry about that.”

Chapter Text

“Mia? Bruce has asked to speak with you.”

Hermione blinked and stared at Lucius. She must have misheard. “Excuse me?”

Lucius smiled tolerantly. “Mr. Wayne would like to see you in his office.” Then Lucius cocked his head. “You do know where his office is, don’t you?”

“Yes. But why does he want to see me?”

“When you find out let me know.”

~o~

Hermione shifted uneasily as she stared at Bruce Wayne’s E.A. At least the older woman was not catty like the model that had just left the owners office. Then she smiled at the British witch.

“He’s ready for you.”

Hermione had to force her feet to move to the large embossed doors. She inhaled deeply before pushing the door open and entering the large interior designed office. It was glass, steel, cream, and black furnished with several pieces of art and overstuffed chairs forming a conversational nook. She could see discreet doors presumably leading to an executive washroom or private meeting room.

Bruce Wayne was sitting behind the granite-topped desk reviewing a file on screen. He rose from his seat and came around the table carrying a netbook computer.

“Thank you for coming on short notice.”

She smiled hesitantly. “You are my employer Mr. Wayne. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Please sit down.” And then he took her hand and guided her to sit on one of the chairs while he took the other at right angle next to her. Deftly he set the netbook on the low glass-topped table and began pulling up some files. “I had a visitor a few days ago.” Then his eyes met hers. “A certain individual usually on call every night.”

Hermione stilled and tried to rise. “I’m sorry I don’t know what you are talking—.”

He reached out and grabbed her hand. “Sit down!” Then his tone softened. “Where do you think Batman gets his gear?” Hazel eyes widened in shocked comprehension. “Yes. It is a partnership that works pretty well. I’ve spent millions trying to save Gotham. He tells me you might have a way to turn Gotham around.”

Hermione pulled her hand free and fidgeted. “What did he tell you?”

“He said you’re a magic-user and a Necroscope. You can speak to the dead and you have a theory that might make things better for everyone in Gotham. Something that will require a significant cash flow to control certain key pieces of real estate.”

Her eyes widened. “You believe? In magic?” She asked hesitantly.

Bruce Wayne laughed. “Miss Granger, with the way the Rogues constantly break out and going on destructive crime sprees I’m willing to try voodoo if it works.” He saw she was still hesitant. “It doesn’t matter if I believe. I trust Batman’s judgment and he believes you. If you made him believe it’s good enough for me.”

Then she began speaking slowly then more quickly. Explaining her theory, potential avenues of exploration, the cash outlays required.

Bruce considered the information. “I can’t help with the magic research but I have no problems bankrolling it. I can set up an account for you with hundred thousand to start.”

Hermione shook her head. “Could you have forty in gold coins, thirty in gems preferably diamonds or opals, and the last thirty in cash? Some of the people I’ll be dealing with will not accept American dollars.”

Bruce nodded. “Give me two days. You’ll need a safe box as well.”

Hermione nodded in agreement. “And the services of a discreet dependable courier. One who will not peek or gossip or freak.”

Bruce nodded. “You can use the one Lucius has on retainer. He has the contact information. What else do you need?”

Hermione thought hard. “Access to the local histories. First account journals. It will help me backtrack how the Change spread. I will also need to trespass on private properties while surveying and mapping.” She hesitated. “This is going to be a full-time job. I can’t do this in the evenings or weekends and it isn’t something I can delegate.”

“No problem. Lucius will find a temporary Research Associate for the next six months. You’re working on a special project for me. What else?”

“You’ll need to buy the land the nodes are located on, for at least a half mile radius.” She warned. “I don’t know what we’d do if it is near a historical monument or something like a stadium or apartment building.”

Bruce Wayne’s cobalt blue eyes were steely. “Then I will buy it out. Or make sufficient endowment to shut it down for restoration or something similar. I’ll buy the land around it and work on getting the Mayor to move ownership and maintenance to a trust.” He hesitated. “As a last resort we can arrange an accident. A gas leak or something similar to force the residents to vacate. Wayne Enterprises will pick up their relocation costs of course.”

Hermione stared at him. Gone was the idle hedonistic playboy. This was what she had sensed off at their first meeting. The indolent panther waiting to pounce. A man with a core of pure steel. She swallowed hard.

“Can you buy the necessary parcels of land?”

“Wayne Enterprises owns a great deal of real estate in Gotham. We’ll move what we can move to the trust before we start buying.” His eyes were sharp. “You understand the assets will be just held in your name, you will not be permitted to sell or use them as collateral. A fractional percentage will be allocated to you as income.”

Hermione shook her head. “That isn’t necessary.”

“Then donate all of it to whatever charity you favour.” He countered. “The money is yours for your lifetime.” His expression turned grim. “We’ll need to figure out what to do for the future.”

Hermione hesitated before speaking up. “You could adopt a mage. I could help you find one from an orphanage. If you raise him or her right, with your values…” She trailed off.

He considered the suggestion. “It’s an idea for the future. But for now we have to make this work. How soon can you get started?”

“Immediately. I’d like to start with Gotham Central Library Archives.”

He looked amused. “I think you can wait until tomorrow.” He looked at the clock. “Will you join me for lunch Miss Granger?”

She looked hesitant before nodding. “Please call me Mia.”

Inwardly Bruce smiled though he merely nodded gravely. “Call me Bruce. Mr. Wayne is too formal given how much we’ll be working together in the future.”

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Hermione stared at the shabby buildings that served and housed the small community consisting mainly of Native blood. She felt guilty about her tailored clothing. She should have worn denim and rented a car instead of letting Bruce push Alfred into chauffeuring her around.

As though sensing her discomfort the butler caught her eye in the rear view mirror.

“Do not think of it Miss Granger. Steven Hawk Wing knows Master Bruce quite well. Thomas Wayne endowed a trust that helps finance post-secondary education for quite a few of the local residents. There is quite a bit of history and friendship between Mr. Hawk Wings clan and the Waynes. His grandfather, William Hawk Eye is old but his memory is quite sharp. In his younger days he was the shaman for his tribe.”

~o~

William Hawk Eye stared at the young woman with curly nut brown hair and light brown eyes. Standing behind her was Bruce Wayne’s trusted aide and old guardian Alfred Pennyworth. His grandson was watching from the door. It was a pity Steven did not have the gift or he would have seen what William saw.

Hermione Granger smiled hesitantly at the elderly Native with rheumy clouded eyes. He seemed to be looking through her and into her soul. Firmly she pushed that away. Then her mouth opened and she began speaking in archaic phrases.

“William Hawk Eye, I seek knowledge and wisdom from the old days. The time for rebirth draws close and the land must be cleansed and healed.”

Then her eyes widened in shock. She had never intended to say that!

The elderly man smiled. “New at being a Mouth aren’t you.” It was more of a statement than a question. She darted a quick look at the other two men in the room. “Don’t worry. Stevie-boy will hold his tongue and Alfred is discretion itself.”

She hesitated only for a few seconds. “You know?”

William nodded slowly and held out a hand. Hermione placed her small smooth one in his darker gnarled one. He stroked the smooth pale skin his eyes distant. “I was the tribe’s Shaman in my younger days. I never received an invitation for formal training from the bigger schools but I have a touch of the gift, nothing on the scale I sense you do.”

“Yes.”

“But there is something else. Something Wrong.” His hands moved up her forearm, across her collarbone and down towards her heart and lower to her waist. His eyes darkened dangerously. “Who did this to you?”

Tears shimmered and threatened to fall. “My old teachers.” She admitted.

William was aghast. “They Bound a sane and stable Mouth? But why?!?”

Tears fell freely now. A warning glance from the elderly Native kept the other two away as he pulled her to sit down beside him.

“Tell me child.”

And she did.

~o~

Hermione Granger spent a great deal of time with William Hawk Eye in the months that followed. Even after she had all the information she needed she continued to stay in touch, visiting every month and calling every week.

~o~

That evening Alfred talked to Bruce about what he heard and saw.

“William Hawk Eye has some magical talent, enough to become a Shaman. There are some tribal magic and rituals that allow Shamans to channel spirits. Steven Hawk Wing doesn’t have active magic though he has enough for a highly developed sixth sense and sharp intuition. The Native Indians have two primary magic schools, one in Arizona and one in Florida though most of the advance training in specific tribal magic is done through local apprenticeships.

“The Native Indians also have a very different view of Necroscopes, Mouths to the Spirits. They are honoured and respected for having a very rare and powerful gift. When their power becomes active they are immediately apprenticed to the tribe’s Shaman for six months. They undergo several purification rituals and practice meditation and fasting to keep the power untainted. After the six-month probationary period they are much less likely to go Dark and insane. They tried telling this to the ICW to repeal the Necroscope exiling laws but no one believed ‘savages’ had techniques that would keep a Necroscope from going mad. The few born to the tribes in last three centuries stayed away from the other enclaves and were highly respected. It was on their advice that the Native magical enclaves were set up decades before the Europeans began to move into the West. Native Reservations may appear quite poor but the bigger ones have thriving magical communities existing alongside what most people see.”

“Is Hermione planning on any research trips to the Native enclaves?”

“She hasn’t mentioned it to me Master Bruce but she has received a lot of invitations to visit the ones within one day driving distance. Apparently Necroscopes who are also magic-users are quite desirable as spouses among the Native enclaves. In the three hours we had quite a few guests drop in, mainly young men and women with male relatives interested in setting up future meetings.”

Bruce snorted softly. “In the graveyard she said she doubted if she could find anyone who would believe and not fear her. Given her experience in the European enclaves I can understand.” He paused. “Did she appear interested in any of them?”

Alfred shook his head. “Miss Granger appeared quite shocked by the flood of potential suitors. She showed no clear preference and made no promises. She was more interested in William Hawk Eye. She plans on visiting twice a week to learn from him, Native magic and history. Though after this project is done I cannot say.”

Bruce hesitated. “And Steven? How did he react?”

“She is an attractive young woman. One very acceptable to his relatives.”

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Bruce hesitated. He didn’t know why he asked her to join him. It wasn’t jealousy over the number of dinner dates she had accepted over the past several weeks. But the only one she had accepted a third and fourth date with was Steven Hawk Wing. But given how she talked about him there was no romantic interest on her part, though Steven was very interested in her.

Hermione glanced up at him. She knew the significance of this day. How could she not when she could see it etched in stone? They were standing before the graves of his parents. This time he was holding a pair of yellow roses, for affection and friendship.

“You can speak to spirits.” It was more of a question than a statement.

“Yes.”

“And my parents?” He looked hesitant and apprehensive.

“Your father is more interested in actions and results. He is a bit sad about what you are doing but he says he is not disappointed and understands your choices. He did something similar when he was younger, before he married your mother.” She looked at the headstones. “He wants you to move on though and let the legacy be carried by the new generation.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure what legacy he is talking about though. Maybe he wants you to start taking on more responsibilities at Wayne Corp.”

Or maybe he is talking about Batman.

“He is very proud of you. You are taking a stand for what you believe in. Just like many other Wayne ancestors including Robert and Solomon. But he is worried that you aren’t paying too much attention to the family name and your personal life. Scandal is never forgotten, only replaced.”

Perhaps Alfred did have a point.

“Your mother speaks to me more often. She is both proud and worried. She is not telling me of what though. She regrets she cannot speak to the three boys you fostered. She wants you to be careful.” She giggled and looked up with laughing eyes. “She says you spend too much time brooding in your hole. Do you brood Bruce? You don’t appear to be the type.” Then her eyes sharpened. “But then again I don’t know much about what you are really like.” She looked away. “She likes the boys but she wants you to get married and have children. You spend too much time alone in a big empty house with only Alfred for company. But she is proud of you taking in almost adult teens and very amused with the way you fret when they leave the nest. Martha says it would be less stressful to raise your own children who do not have old wounds and abandonment fears influencing their spinal reactions. There is a lot of satisfaction and joy found in watching a child grow from a baby into a distinct personality. She doesn’t want you to fight with your eldest. He is a grown man and needs to find his own path. It is natural he feels loyalty to his biological parents and his early memories, just as you do. But he does love you and wants you to be proud of him. He will come back when he feels he is ready; when he does be gracious.”

Bruce stilled. Dick had established himself in Bludhaven. There were times when they worked together on cases but there was always an underlying tension.

“She says Barbara Gordon is a nice girl but a little too young for you, mentally and spiritually. She sees things in black and white while you see the grey. And she is not ruthless and selfish enough to fight you on what matters to her.” Hermione was curious and confused. “She was disappointed by Talia. Loyalty to family is important but not when it hurts so many others. Very few men can live as long as Ra’s without going bitter and fanatical. She strongly wants you to reconsider how you interact with him. Too many have died for his megalomaniac vision, too many scream for justice.” Her voice became hollow and deep, her irises became clouded by a milky film of white. “Too many pay the price he is unwilling to pay. Death for Life. Sacrifice for Growth. Change for Evolution.” The milky film faded. “How many has he killed Bruce?”

Bruce was silent. “Too many.”

“Is he a wizard?” Hermione wanted to know. “What I saw…” She shuddered.

“He may be a wizard. I don’t know. I met him during my travels.”

“And you formed a relationship with his daughter.” She concluded.

“I didn’t know Talia was his daughter until much later.” He admitted.

Hermione’s eyes were distant. “She loves you but she loves her father more. One day you will have to stop him. Only death can stop one like him.” Her eyes were sympathetic. “That day her love will transform into hate. She has invested too much of herself into pleasing him.”

“I try not to think about that.” Bruce admitted.

There was a comfortable silence between the two of them as the sun sank lower in the sky.

“Do all the dead speak to you?”

“Of course not! I would go insane if that were the case.”

“Then how does it work?”

“Only the very strong and determined remain behind after dying. They are the ones I freely interact with. There are always many of them in Gotham and most are agreeable to helping me. After a few months they usually move on. After I started working for Corporate Archives I figured out how to Call for a particular soul or for expertise in a certain field. I cheated to do my research work. There are always programmers, hackers, accountants, lawyers, and other experts who are interested and willing to help me track down information Lucius requested. I learned quite a bit from them.”

“Do you retain all their skills?”

“Only if I practice it.” She admitted. “If I had to I could probably do emergency surgery or complete a set of architectural drawings and plans for a new neighbourhood subdivision but I would prefer not to. I keep up with programming and hacking on my own time.”

“Can you force them to answer? To give you information or help you?”

“I could but I won’t.” Gold flecked hazel eyes were steady and calm. “I won’t force another into doing my bidding. I don’t want slaves. The only reason why I can still do magic is because they showed me how to use other ways to channel. I will not betray that trust. If no one answers I will wait. If they are unwilling I will try negotiating a bargain. A lot of the people who died in Crime Alley respond because they do not want to be forgotten. I created the memorials for them and to help the living remember.”

Bruce nodded in understanding.

~o~

An hour later they were standing in a particular alley in Park Lane. Where Thomas and Martha Wayne died more than thirty years ago.

The blood stains were long gone and the alley had been transformed into a small garden of shrubs and grasses below a white healing caduceus blasted and dyed on the red brick wall. Below it were two names and a particular date on a metal plate melding into the wall. There were two concrete planters that could easily double as benches before it.

Bruce sank onto one of them staring at the two yellow rose bushes growing on an arch trellis of wrought metal attached to the wall that framed the caduceus.

“There is a notice-me-not charm at the mouth of the alley. Only those seeking peace and quiet will be able to enter. They will be reluctant to talk about what they’ve seen here. I’ve spoken to some of the families who live in this block. They are willing to water the plants and do some basic maintenance. I tried to summon an elemental fae but none are willing to put roots in Gotham. They are afraid of being twisted by the fluxing tainted nodes.” She hesitated. “When we succeed I would like to make a larger memorial garden here. Your mother… Martha… She loved plants. It could be a playground or community kitchen garden.” She looked over her shoulder. “Something for the residents to take pride in. To bring beauty and life from death and loss.”

Bruce stared with dry eyes at the memorial. The roses loved by his mother, the emblem his father lived by. “That sounds like a wonderful idea.” He glanced over. “Remind me to buy this block for the Eos Trust. It can be the core for our renewal plans in the future.”

“Of course.”

Chapter Text

“Miss Granger, Master Bruce has asked you to join him in his study.”

Hermione stood up and smiled at the teenager who had kept her entertained with a quick tour of Wayne Manor while Bruce wrapped up an international phone call.

“Thank you for the tour Mr. Drake.”

The teenager grinned bashfully. “Call me Tim. Mr. Drake makes me look around for my father.”

Hermione chuckled. “All right. Tim. And please call me Hermione.”

“Not Mia?” He asked teasingly, and then at her inquiring look he explained. “I heard Bruce talking to Alfred about you.”

“Perhaps in time. For now call me Hermione.”

Tim nodded and watched the not gorgeous but striking woman follow Alfred. He resisted the urge to eavesdrop. Bruce would let him know what was happening and Tim had time to get to know her better.

~o~

Bruce quickly scanned the one page summary occasionally flipping to the appendix to look at a chart or map. He would look at the ten page report in more detail later. He looked across his desk with a more open expression.

“Summarize the report for me and give me your recommendations.”

“I’ve completed the preliminary historical research on Gotham using first account sources and the local mythology. I believe there are at least three nodes, one for each island. Given past events I strongly believe the island containing Arkham and the Narrows itself has a node. For over a century no one wanted to formally develop it, the only residents were the poor who could not afford anything better than The Narrows. Then Harvey Dent, an Outsider, came in and pushed his idea for building a new penitentiary on it. Since then the violence and menace has simply escalated out of control.”

Bruce nodded grimly as he studied her historical data. The more people moved into The Narrows the worse it became. An accelerating growth curve that was hidden due to the large increase in illegal residents.

“It is going to be the most difficult buy so I’m suggesting you start campaigning now. Sell it to the mayor… Say Arkham has a bad reputation for breakouts, something might be flawed in the location, structure or concept. Offer to help finance a new prison with better security either on the mainland or on one of the smaller islands off South Hinkley. It is mostly industrial so there shouldn’t be too much problems getting it rezoned.”

Dark blue eyes narrowed. “There are some private islands near Blackgate. In fact Wayne Real Estate might have interest in a few of them.”

“You can either sell it outright or lease for 99 years at nominal rates for a tax concession. But don’t make an offer until I map and clear it.” Hermione suggested with a faint smile.

Bruce nodded slowly. “It makes more sense. There will be better control since there are very few local residents living on the islands.” He frowned. “Why hasn’t something like this been suggested before?”

“You are a busy man and sometimes it takes an outsider to point out what should be obvious. Or the nodes are having a subtle influence on people who live in Gotham, the longer you live here the harder it is to detect and fight it.”

“What do you mean?”

Hermione thought hard. “Have you travelled to the Far East Bruce?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever entered certain monasteries or gardens and felt completely at peace?” His eyes widened slightly. “Felt like you could stay there forever? Whenever you looked around you saw happy smiling faces? People who knew exactly what they were and what they wanted? People who cared about humanity and life?”

“Yes.”

“That place was probably over a well-tended node. It can be almost addictive, you can’t help but buy into the feel of the place. If there is peace you are at peace. If there is violence you react with violence.”

“If this works will Gotham feel like that?” Bruce’s voice was disbelieving.

“Not immediately. Not for many decades. It will take time to undo the general disbelief and apathetic mindset. An entire generation has to grow up and replace ours as the dominating influence on the land.”

Bruce remembered the Zen gardens he had visited, a particular mountain shrine in Japan. If he could bring that to Gotham it would be worth the time and money. He nodded firmly.

“Okay. I’ll talk to Commissioner Gordon before I start lobbying the City Council. If I get him on my side it can only help.” He looked at her sharply. “What is your next step?”

“I need to map Gotham mystically.” Her eyes were even and calm. “All of it.”

He frowned. “Even the docks, industrial parks, warehouses, and alleys?”

“Pretty much all of it. I’ll need to stop every hundred meters and send out a pulse to map everything within that zone. It will mainly need to be done on foot.”

He considered that information. “First do the public, safe, tourist areas. Take Alfred or Tim with you if you are uncomfortable. When you are done we’ll see about the rest. Is the device or method very obvious?”

“Oh no. Just a couple of crystals on a staff and lots of paper. A spell will burn the data for that zone on paper which would need to be scanned and reassembled like a jigsaw on computer.”

“Then I suggest you get very good walking shoes and buy a bicycle.”

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Within two weeks of Hermione’s meeting with Bruce Wayne there was news article in the Gotham Gazette discussing a proposal made by Bruce Wayne. To build a new better penitentiary closer to Blackgate and to shut down Arkham. After several months of discussion and debates almost all the agencies and decision makers were in agreement. Arkham was not holding the Rogues. In fact many of the Rogues were too familiar with how it worked as an employee and inmate.

With the strong backing of Bruce Wayne the city began issuing bonds to finance a new asylum on East Hinkley Island. The island itself was bought out by Bruce Wayne who in turn swapped it with the City for The Narrows and the lands containing Arkham. Bruce Wayne met with the other property owners to discuss plans to revitalize Trigate Island once Arkham was shut down. When the other owners scoffed such plans Bruce offered to buy them out. And they accepted since all other attempts at revitalization failed badly.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Lucius Fox stared at his employer. Ever since Bruce asked Lucius to assign Hermione Granger as his personal research assistant he had changed. He spent more time in the office, especially the real estate and property management divisions. Then when Lucius heard of the city’s plans for a new asylum, Bruce’s offer to swap the land and his plans to buy out nearly all of Trigate Island, Lucius strongly suspected Bruce Wayne had lost it.

And when the lawyers and accountants came to him for signatures, for the Eos Trust Bruce had set up Lucius knew he had to act. Why was Bruce moving small chunks of real estate holdings into a trust for Hermione Granger? Why was all the Arkham holdings in that same trust? Why was he swapping cash and other assets for Wayne Real Estate holdings all over the city, small plots and assets all across Gotham? Why was he buying more through holding companies fronting for the trust? When Lucius plotted the real estate assets of the Eos Trust they were scattered all over the city.

Bruce had become very close to Hermione Granger. She had moved into one of the VIP suites of Wayne Towers. She spent many weekends and evenings at Wayne Manor or in town accompanied by Tim Drake or Alfred Pennyworth. Alfred was often seen picking her up during the week and driving her out of the city. Lucius knew Alfred Pennyworth was very protective of his former charge and would never tolerate anyone who would hurt him. Then why was he not stopping this? Bruce was draining a great deal of his personal liquid holdings to set up a trust for a near stranger. Was she blackmailing him?

“Mia is not blackmailing me Lucius. She has not used hypnosis or drugs to control me.” Lucius blinked. Bruce smirked. “I could read it on your face. She’s working on a very special project for me. The Eos Trust is a big part of it but you don’t have to worry; she cannot sell or use the assets as collateral. She only has paper ownership. I will keep control as the trustee as long as she lives. If I die before her then Dick or Tim will take control of the Eos Trust.”

Lucius frowned. “I don’t see how a trust holding real estate assets can be related to a special project.” He confessed.

Bruce nodded slightly. “I wouldn’t have thought so myself until I talked to Mia.” Then he smiled. “But if it works it will change Gotham forever. Completely.”

“Are you sure she isn’t using some mind control on you?”

Bruce laughed. “No mind control. Nothing but her findings.” He smirked. “If we pull this off they will have to build a separate wing and archive at the library and museum for us.” He chuckled. “For the saviours of Gotham City.”

“How can buying land in such a random fashion help change Gotham? Shouldn’t you finance education and social programs and take-back-the-night initiatives?”

Bruce became sober. “I’ve been doing that all these years Lucius and it hasn’t made much of a dent. Mia has shown me a different way. I have to take this chance.”

“Can’t you tell me about it?”

“Once we’re done you’ll be the first to know all the details.” Bruce promised.

Lucius grumbled but conceded. There wasn’t much he could do at this point. Everything was perfectly legal and Hermione Granger could not run off with the assets. He wondered if he had made a mistake taking her on as his personal Research Associate.

“You didn’t make a mistake introducing her to me Lucius. In fact you might have just saved us all.” Bruce smiled faintly. “Give me a year. I’ll tell you everything by this date next year. Besides you know Alfred will not let me do anything too stupid.”

Lucius sighed. “All right Bruce. I’ll give you a year. And I expect to hear a very good story over a very good meal.”

Bruce chuckled. “You will Lucius, you will.”

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

“Bruce Wayne tells me you need to map the less reputable areas.”

Hermione squeaked and spun around. She glared at Batman who was standing just inside the balcony doors of the Wayne Towers VIP suite she was using. How had he…?

“Your wards are based on intent. I have no intention of harming you.”

Hermione glanced at her kitchen table covered with piles of neatly marked paper. The wall closest was covered with an oversized laminated map of Gotham marked with overhead pens in different colours; blue, green, red, brown, black.

Batman could see the pattern. She had already mapped a great deal of Old Gotham. Most of it was red with a narrow strip of brown shaped like an inverted V with the point near the core of Old Gotham. There were a few black asterisks around the vertex point and near the brown dots. Most of the ‘safer’ parts of Gotham were covered in blue or green markings though he could see narrow strips of red/brown curving through Downtown and two other lines cutting through Midtown and West Harrow. There were large patches with no markings, mainly in the industrial zones and rougher areas.

She noticed he was studying the map intently. “I’ve mapped most of Old Gotham. I did it while doing my usual circuits. Red indicates a dense flow, brown is very dense, black is almost physical. It is actually warping reality. I haven’t even gone close to Arkham or the docks. One node is in Crime Alley, and I believe the other is close to Arkham, the third one should be close to the southern end but I don’t have a good excuse to be in that area.”

Batman nodded. “Do you get air sick?”

Hermione blinked. “Not that I know of.”

He turned to the balcony and made a gesture. Two others entered the living space. Robin and Batgirl. Robin looked more friendly with a smile bouncing lightly on his toes. Batgirl was sulking, her arms folded across her chest.

“I don’t see why I have to be here.” She grumbled.

Batman visibly hardened. “You don’t have to be. Help her suit up. Robin will take her out while you do regular patrols.”

Hermione felt sorry for the other woman but she had brought it on herself. She looked at Batman.

“Batgirl will show you how to suit up. I’ve prepared a dark outfit with no markings to help you blend in and not be identified. It is lightly armoured in case you and Robin run into any trouble.”

Hermione nodded and led Batgirl who was carrying a matte black metal briefcase to the second bedroom she preferred.

Batgirl smirked. “Strip to your underwear and put this on.” She tossed a black stretchy bodysuit at Hermione.

Hermione did not react badly as the heroine had expected. The witch immediately understood why Batman had insisted the reluctant female member of his team join them. Once Hermione learned how to don the outfit herself she would not have to see or talk to the brat. Vaguely Hermione wondered why Batgirl had taken a dislike to her but she did not let it get under her skin. It had been a long time since Hermione cared for another’s opinion of her.

~o~

Twenty minutes later a short curvy form dressed in matte black suit and light armour covering her shins, knees, chest, elbows and forearms appeared. Her curly brown hair was braided into a coronet and she deftly tucked all traces into a stretchy hood before lifting a mask that covered the lower half of her face into place.

Batman frowned. “You aren’t wearing the cowl.”

She glared at him. “It is hot and sweaty and there isn’t enough room for my hair. It is too long to be worn like Batgirl and I’m not going to cut it. This is an acceptable substitute. It hides all traces of my identity and it cannot be removed.”

Batman glanced at Robin who stepped forward and tried to do just that and failed.

The material shifted as her lips curved into a smile. “It is based on the same principles as my veils. Only I or those who I add to the rune matrix as acceptable can remove it. It is spelled to be nearly indestructible and has a minor cushioning charm in case I intercept a blow or fall on my face.” Seeing their curious expressions she explained. “The easiest way to avoid damage is to drop and roll.” She touched her nose. “In the past I’ve dropped a little too fast to avoid incoming spells and blows.” She tilted her head to one side. “But don’t worry; I have no plans on playing hero. If anything goes wrong I’ll stay out of the way and hide.”

Batman glanced at Batgirl who spoke in grudging tones. “She figured out how to don the armour pretty quickly. She only needed some help to figure out the tricks to securing it without any assistance. The hood and mask were things she already had in an overnight back filled with energy bars and dark clothes; tights, jeans, sweaters, turtlenecks.”

Hermione shrugged. “Escape kit. It has some money, gift cards, disposable pre-paid cell phones, and travelling documents under other names.”

“Do you still feel you need it?” Batman asked casually.

Hermione thought hard. “Not really. But it is a hard habit to break.”

Batman nodded. “It is a good habit. Just follow Robin’s lead. He will be using the glider tonight. If she has a bad reaction to flying use the cycle.” He directed to Robin who nodded his understanding.

“Sure thing Batman.”

~o~

By the end of the night Hermione Granger earned the grudging respect of Batgirl and the awed interest of Robin when she used the cable from the grappling guns to set up an almost unnoticed trap that came alive to bind a fleeing gang of gun runners.

Batman had not been pleased to hear what she had done but she did not flinch under his scowl, glower, and looming stance.

Hazel brown met cobalt blue without flinching or recoil.

“I was not in any danger. I was more than fifty feet away lying on top of the unloaded shipping containers.”

“And what if someone spotted you from above? From a crane?” Batman wanted to know.

She shrugged slightly and then vanished from sight without a sound or flicker.

Robin jumped when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

Batman and Batgirl whirled and stared at Hermione Granger who was standing just behind Robin. How had she…?

“It is called Apparition. A mages version of teleportation. Usually there is a distinctive pop caused by the displaced air but with practice and skill it can be soundless.”

Batman frowned. “Can you do this anywhere?”

“Only to places I’ve been to. And there is a distance limitation. I can Apparate all over Gotham and to the mainland but the farthest I can go in one jump is from Gotham to New York and it will exhaust me.” She confessed.

“Can all mages do this?”

“Only those with power and skill. To Apparate when you are tired is risky; there is a chance you leave part of yourself behind. It is called splinching and it can only be treated at a magical hospital. There is also a chance Apparation can be traced and tracked. For that reason I’ve tried to avoid Apparating except when I feel there is no other option.”

“Can you take others with you?” Robin wanted to know.

“Yes. But it has the same risks as Apparating when tired.”

Batman considered the information. “Avoid Apparating.”

Hermione snorted softly. “This is the third time I’ve done it in Gotham. The first was to avoid certain Italian businessmen; the second was to check if I could reach the mainland safely.”

“Italian businessmen?”

“Vitero Maroni. I believe his mother Angela is an untrained mage. He is as well.”

Batman’s mouth turned down. “He has been manoeuvring into the high ground. Gordon has not been able to pin anything solid on him.”

“I believe his experience has focused his magic into honing his sixth sense such that he can instinctively plot and plan a course of least resistance. If you want to catch him you cannot Plan. Some of the best Aurors, enclave policemen, are like that. Their danger senses and pattern recognition abilities are much higher than their colleagues.”

Batman added the bit of data to his mental database. “Did you complete the mapping?”

Her chin lifted as she glared down her not visible nose. “Of course!”

“Good. Robin will pick you up tomorrow night. Be ready by eleven fifteen.”

Chapter Text

Hermione dragged her ink stained fingers through her mass of curls. She didn’t like ballpoint pens and preferred fountain pens to the quills of her teenage years. Unfortunately fountain pens did leak no matter how expensive or well made they were.

Her fingers moved absently as she picked up her overhead markers and began plotting the newest data she had just finished compiling. There were four other more detailed maps surrounding the large one of Gotham. One was a neighbourhood map centered around a school with a detailed floor plan of said school. Two others were industrial maps detailing warehouses, shipping docks, piers, and railway lines. The fourth was Trigate Island centered around Arkham Asylum.

“Are you done?” A familiar gravelly voice interrupted her thoughts.

Hermione did not jump. She had become used to him slipping into her home and sneaking up on her.

“As much as I can without going into Arkham itself. And I am Not going in there when it is still in use.” She turned and glared at him.

“Understandable. Do you have the location of the other nodes?”

“Yes. There are four in total.” She tapped the points where the brown strips of dots crossed each other. “Arkham. Crime Alley. Port Adams. Tricorner Yards. I’ve pinpointed the nodes for all but Arkham to within three meters on the more detailed maps. The brown dots indicate where the energy flows, the leylines. It is quite rare to see three lines entangled in such a small space. Usually one would be subsumed by the others. Nodes usually form in ones or pairs. Four nodes is quite rare.”

Her finger traced the brown dots moving in an arch from the northern mainland, through Old Gotham, curving around the eastern edges, through Port Adams then turning west to pass through Tricorner Yards. Then up the second line from Tricorner Yards, through Arkham and curving to cut through Old Gotham. The last line was a straight diagonal cutting from Port Adams, across Midtown and through Arkham.

“Have you mapped Bludhaven?”

Hermione snorted softly. “Of course.” She pulled another larger scale map showing the Bludhaven-Gotham corridor. She picked a pencil to trace the leylines on it. The line cutting through Arkham and Port Adams curved out at sea to come back and to cut through Langley Point and Caernaervon Section. The line through Old Gotham, Arkham, and Tricorner Yards went straight through Avalon Hills and the Central Business District before cutting through the other line at Caernaervon.

“Batgirl was nice enough to give me a lift by boat and plane. She introduced me to Nightwing in Bludhaven. He was dismissive of my leyline theory but he could not disagree with my statement that Caernaervon is one of the worst districts in Bludhaven. The node there is potent but it is feeding off the resonance effect of so many nodes in Gotham. Once the nodes are purified here things should start getting better there.”

Batman studied the map. “Do you want me to ask Wayne to start buying land in Bludhaven?”

“No. Nightwing isn’t welcoming or a believer. We’ll just be stepping on his toes. If he changes his mind I won’t mind purifying that node as well but I’d prefer if you speak to Bruce Wayne about buying land outside Gotham.” She shuddered. “I’ve seen the balance sheet and cash flow statements for the Eos Trust.”

Batman was faintly amused. “Do you have a timeline for the Gotham nodes?”

Hermione studied the map. “Arkham will have to be the last. After they have finished moving to the new facility. All four nodes will need to be purified within three moon cycles of each other.”

Batman considered the information. “We can start in two months. Arkham is supposed to be shut down in four months. Do you know where you want to start?”

Hermione did not have to think. “Crime Alley. The old abandoned high school. The effects should be immediately noticeable since the two lines cut through all the islands.”

“Do you have everything you need?”

“Almost. I’m waiting for Bruce to locate suitable gemstones to be focus points. I’ve already destroyed three diamonds testing them.”

Batman winced inwardly. He remembered seeing that with his own eyes. Hermione had set up a low-level version of the purification ritual on Wayne Manor grounds. One of the leylines passed through the grounds and under the building itself. The diamonds had fractured and fallen apart at the natural flaws from the stress of containing the resonating power generated by the ritual. Seeing it happen in just two minutes he knew it would be nearly impossible to find suitable natural stones that could handle at least twenty times the input for more than ten minutes.

Batman had despaired until he struck upon a different avenue. If he couldn’t buy the stones he would have them made. Bruce Wayne travelled to Metropolis, where Batman contacted Superman and asked the Kryptonian to create suitable diamonds from several tons of high quality coal. Superman had been confused by the request but had been willing to help because he knew Batman would not make such a request lightly. They would be ready for a test run in one week. Batman hoped they would be more suitable than the other stones he had bought. He was beginning to understand why nodes were almost never purified once they became tainted. Finding perfect focus stones in nature was nearly impossible.

“Don’t worry about finding suitable focus stones.” He spoke gruffly. “Just be ready to move. Do you have any particular preference for a particular date?”

“A full moon.”

Batman made a mental note of the information. “Take a break and relax. You can’t do much until the stones are procured.” And you will not get your hands on them for at least a month. You have been working too hard and Alfred is getting very annoyed with me for not trying to slow you down.

Hermione nodded absently and began rolling her stiff shoulders and tense neck muscles. She froze when she felt the strong hands encased in rubber and Kevlar gloves work on the hard knots.

“You are too tense.” His voice was low and disapproving. His hands pushed her towards a breakfast bar stool and manoeuvred her to sit down while he worked on her neck.

“I always am near the end of a project. After putting so much energy and time into it I cannot relax it is handed in and done without any disastrous interruptions.” She confessed.

“Have you considered going to a masseuse?”

“All the time. But I’m afraid I can’t.” She leaned forward and rested her cheek on the smooth slick surface of the breakfast island she was using as an office table.

“And why not?”

“If I feel too much pleasure I’ll lose control.” She admitted. His hands stilled for a fractional second before resuming his motions.

“What would happen?”

“Anything.”

“What has happened in the past?”

“My hair got a static charge that escaped and fried whatever and whoever was close by. I’ve changed water into alcohol and caused plants to bloom out of season. Everything I touched became scented with cinnamon and cloves.”

Batman lifted his gloved hand to his face and sniffed discreetly. A faint smile curved his lips. “You are doing it now.”

“What?!?” She sat up straight.

“Your skin. It smells of cinnamon and clove oils.”

Hermione lifted her hand to her own nose and confirmed his statement. She groaned softly. “I’m sorry. I don’t have any control over that.”

“Has it always happened or is it something new?”

“It became more common after I was Bound. My magic began finding new ways to escape. After the spirits showed me how to channel I knew it was not safe to stay in Britain so I applied for a transfer to America.”

Batman considered the information. “Try to relax. Take a few weeks off and spend some of it outside Gotham.”

She twisted on the bar stool and considered the order. “I could go to Florida. Simon Elk Hart is one of the instructors at Miskotek Academy and he asked if I could prepare a two part lecture for his more advanced classes. And they do have a very extensive collection on the theory of rune and pictoglyph spell crafting.”

Batman’s eyes narrowed. “No. Time off means time off. Not new projects.”

Hazel eyes narrowed and the narrow chin with its shallow dimple lifted in defiant challenge.

Batman back-pedalled mentally and tried a different argument. “You need to relax and recharge. You are going to be executing four very intense and draining rituals without any back-up. You have to be at your peak.”

Her shoulders sagged. “You are right.” She rubbed her chin. “What do you suggest?”

“Talk to Bruce Wayne and Alfred Pennyworth.”

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

“Do you see her?”

“Oh yes. It is the fifth time Bruce has taken her out in the last two weeks.”

“Is he serious about her?!?” The owner sounded horrified.

“I don’t see how. I mean she is definitely a plain Jane, nothing extraordinary.”

“I heard she works for Wayne Enterprises.”

“I heard she is working on some special project for Bruce. She is so lucky! They get to spend so much time together!”

“And all of it on business?” The other was sceptical. “Bruce Wayne is not the type to focus exclusively on business.”

The knowledgeable one became hesitant. “I don’t know. They’ve been working together for months and no one said anything.”

“And now he is taking her out on dinner dates and to galas. That doesn’t quite sound like a purely business relationship.” A sigh full of envy. “That dress she is wearing… It looks like an original from Milan. Definitely not something off a department store rack.”

“But she’s so Ordinary! Why is he with her?”

“That’s what I want to know. Is it something serious or is he just being nice?”

“Do you think Selina knows?”

“Don’t know. She hasn’t been in Gotham for Months!”

“Well she isn’t with exclusively with Bruce. He is free to date whoever he wants.”

“But why does he have to pick a British nobody who looks like a librarian!?!”

~o~

Hermione stiffened her spine. She couldn’t Not hear those catty bitches gossip about her relationship with Bruce.

Her date chuckled softly and squeezed her hand.

“Don’t let them get to you.” He spoke softly.

She glanced up through dark lashes. “Don’t be silly. I’ve heard worse from other inbred idiots.” She shuddered. “This reminds me of Fourth Year.”

“What happened?”

“There was an inter-school contest for the older students; a three-part challenge with each school being represented by their best student, their Champion. The one from Eastern Europe was a very popular sports star; he had male and female fans. Everyone wanted to go with him to the Yule Dance. He asked me because I wasn’t a rabid fangirl. I was rather angry because the boy who I wanted to go with didn’t bother asking me until the very end as a last resort. I wanted to make him regret it.” She chuckled ruefully. “I went all out getting dressed. I modified a dress Mummy sent me because the usual formal gowns sold in enclaves were rather old fashioned. I used two bottles of Sleek-Eezey to control my hair, it was a lot worse when I was younger.” She touched the coronet of braids wrapped around her head. When we entered the Great Hall everyone was shocked; someone as popular and wealthy as Victor Krum asked me out before I cleaned up and that I looked so good when I tried.” She chuckled ruefully.

Bruce looked down at her profile before placing a finger under her chin to reposition her face at varying angles.

“I don’t see why not. You have very good bones. You will remain attractive even when you are much older. Krum must have been quite mature to have seen that potential in you. Besides, anyone can look attractive with some effort. But you have a confidence, a self-assuredness that comes from deep within. You won’t cling or demand reassurance because you have a good sense of your own self-worth. By that same token you won’t have a great deal of patience for high-maintenance friends.”

Hermione blinked, completely taken aback by the sharp perceptive words coming from someone who she had quite written off as a bit dense. Her eyes narrowed.

“How much are you hiding Bruce?”

“Quite a bit.” He freely admitted. “Aren’t you?”

Hermione opened her mouth to protest then she shut it. She was hiding. Bruce was wealthy, attractive, and chased after. He probably cultivated that denseness as a self-defence mechanism. Trust begat trust and honesty begat honesty. Bruce Wayne already had too much power over her. She liked him and she had shared a lot of her history with him, but did she trust him with her feelings?

“Yes.” She admitted softly.

He smiled gently. “Don’t worry. It’s human to hide parts of yourself.”

Hermione sighed. “I want to hide all of myself. I never had much patience for socializing when I was younger and now you are dragging me to all these parties!”

“It is something different from your usual activities.” Bruce spoke firmly. “If I take you to galleries and museums you’ll start making project and reading lists. At a party the only thing you’ll have to worry about is not insulting other guests.” He smirked. “Besides, I did offer to take you to Hawaii. You were the one who didn’t want to leave Gotham.”

Then he felt her stiffen. Reflexively his eyes scanned the area around him. He didn’t see any obvious or subtle threat.

“What is it?” His voice dropped into lower ranges.

She shivered and rubbed her bare upper arms. “There is someone here. Someone… Someone with Power.” She looked up at him with dark frightened eyes. “He or she knows I am here. That I am a Bound witch.”

“Bruce.” A cool familiar voice interrupted their conversation.

The billionaires dark blue eyes focused on the dark eyes belonging to a man with white streaked red hair dressed in a tuxedo. Jason Blood.

“Blood, I’m not sure if you’ve ever met Hermione Granger. Mia, this is Jason Blood, a business associate.” He spoke cordially. He had not seen the occult specialist since the last meeting as Batman. Unconsciously his arm wrapped around Hermione drawing her close. “Mia has been working on a few projects for me. She has a very good knack for thinking outside-the-box.” His eyes narrowed. “She is also a very good friend. Alfred and Tim are very fond of her.” Hurt her and you’ll have to face more than me.

Jason Blood inclined his head at the unspoken threat.

Hermione squashed the urge to run. She lifted her eyes and focused them on the other mans bow-tie. “Mr. Blood.” She turned to Bruce. “I’ll be with the Commissioner. Come and get me when you’re done.”

She wriggled out of Bruce’s embrace and walked over to the buffet table where Commissioner Jim Gordon stood talking with a few City bureaucrats.

The occultist glared at the retreating woman who had made Etrigan sing and laugh in glee. He wanted to chase her down and end the threat his intellect screamed she was. His logical side made him follow Bruce away from the party goers.

“Do you know What she is?” He hissed once they were in a service corridor hidden behind heavy velvet curtains

His old friend stared at him with cold hard eyes. “I know exactly what she is. Do you?”

“She’s a Necroscope! A killer just waiting to get loose!”

“She’s a human being! A woman punished for something that is Not her Fault!” Bruce pushed back.

Blood was taken aback. “Do you know what every awakened Necroscope has done for the last two thousand years?”

“Every Necroscope in Europe!” Bruce countered harshly. “Every Necroscope in that bigoted prejudiced continent that still believes they live in the time of Colonies where only Europe and its imperial powers can ever be right.”

Blood blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Have you ever tried to find out how Other cultures regard Necroscopes?” Blood frowned. “Why don’t you do some research and find out for yourself. In fact I can give you a name: William Hawk Eye. Ask him what the Native Americans mages and shamans think of Necroscopes.”

Blood shook his head slightly. “I don’t know what scheme she’s spinning—”

“That’s correct Blood. You don’t, so don’t bother trying to change my mind.”

Jason frowned. “I don’t understand why you are so protective of her.”

“She’s a woman who is doing the best she can after some very hard knocks.” Cobalt blue eyes were like chips of steely ice. “Hard knocks given by prejudiced fear-driven bigots who do not see the individual, only the label. She has lived in Gotham for a few years and has proven to be honest, sane and very capable. I truly believe she is the key to the salvation of this city.”

Blood frowned. “I heard rumours about your revitalization projects. You’ve been buying a lot of land, especially in Old Gotham.” Dark eyes narrowed. “In fact it was on your push that a new Asylum is being built to replace Arkham when it closes. What are you playing at Bruce?”

Bruce smirked. “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait and see for yourself Jason.”

~o~

Jason Blood watched as one of his few friends returned to the party. A few minutes later he returned himself and watched Bruce join her and the Commissioner.

A few minutes later they were joined by more social-conscious society matrons who sat on various NGO and volunteer boards. Unlike when Bruce introduced them, this Hermione Granger was articulate and confident. Within a few minutes of introductions being made she launched into an involved conversation with Stella Vandermeer whose unofficial job was chairing and fund raising for various NGOs.

He watched with troubled eyes as other civic minds joined the group for a lively discussion. All throughout Hermione Granger patiently but firmly involved Bruce in the conversation, not allowing him to escape and join the other more business or pleasure oriented circles.

When Batman had warned him off Hermione Granger Jason had made it a point to investigate her and what he had not found was troubling. There was absolutely no evidence of insanity or murders committed. His PI had not been able to account for every single minute but in recent months she had spent a great deal of time in Wayne Manor, with Alfred Bruce and Tim. There was no way she could have hidden evidence of her crimes from all three.

Was he wrong? Had they All been wrong for centuries? Were there really others ways which would keep a Necroscope sane and stable? Did he kill Andrew for no truly valid reason? If he had only looked harder, doubted conventional wisdom and the scholar Everyone, could he have saved his friend?

Bruce had given him a name. William Hawk Eye. Jason needed to speak to him before reaching any other premature conclusions.

Chapter Text

“You signalled?”

Jim Gordon did not jump. He turned and looked into the shadows.

“I thought you might want to know. There’s been a drop in criminal activity in Old Gotham. At first I thought it was a new gang-lord taking control but nothing to support that theory. There are fewer cases of domestic violence and runaways, not just the ones being called in but fewer cases in the shelters and group homes. We actually had a few call-ins that where the perp came in peacefully.”

Batman shifted slightly. “I’ve noticed it myself. Do you have a probable cause?”

Gordon frowned. “I’m not sure. Nothing has really changed but for some reason it doesn’t feel as oppressive to go on patrol there. Some of the officers spotted some interesting art work and gardens but didn’t make any official reports because the City would send maintenance crews to take them down. There is one recurring theme in most of the local gossip according to Cynthia Watkins who runs the local Social Services office. The Veiled Lady who dresses like a widow in dark blue or black and wears a hat with a veil that hides her identity. Some call her an angel with the healing touch. Others say she’s more dangerous than you though no one has fingered her for any particular crime; other than beating up local gang members.”

Batman considered the information. “Have any of your people seen her?”

Gordon shook his head. “No. She’s like a ghost.” Then his eyes narrowed. “Have you seen her?”

“I have.”

“Well? What does she look like?”

“The description you have; dark clothes and a veil. The residents respect and trust her.”

The police officer warred with the private citizen. “Is she a threat?”

Batman shook his head. “Actually she might be the best thing that happened to this city.”

“Even more than you?” Gordon was sceptical.

Batman was silent for a while before he answered. “I attack the symptoms and effects of the problem. She’s going after the root and cause of the problem. Her solutions are more likely to be lasting ones. You’ve seen the changes yourself.”

A tiny kernel of hope bloomed. Batman would not lie about something like this. If he believed was it possible, could it be…? Was there a chance to bring real lasting positive change in Gotham?

“Do you know her? Could you arrange a meeting?”

He ignored the first question. “I doubt if she would be agreeable. Her approach is not… conventional. And she doesn’t trust the justice system and government.”

Gordon decided he did not want to know. As long as it worked he did not care to know the particulars of just how she did it. “If she needs any help I’m available.”

“I will let her know but I doubt she will ever take you up on it.”

Gordon sighed. “Do you think she could work her magic in Downtown?”

To his surprise Batman smirked. “Just keep an eye on the statistics and reports Commissioner. I think you will be pleasantly surprised in the coming months.”

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Batman glanced at the stairs leading to the main floor of the abandoned school. Batgirl and Robin were outside. If anyone entered the building they would let him know. He looked at Hermione who was dressed in just the black body suit with no sleeves or armour and her feet bare, and her hair still damp and hanging free.

“Do you need any help?”

Hermione stopped and looked a bit torn before she came to a decision. “I need the ritual circles to be marked out in chalk around this point.” She gestured to a X she had just marked after consulting the GPS unit. “Diameters of one, three, and five meters. Please make the division markings on the two inner circles before using salt to create a one-inch thick outer ring. I’ll need to make the other markings myself.”

Batman nodded and took the compass, laser-sighting device and chalk to begin marking the first circle and its four divisions occasionally checking with the sketch loaded on his hand held data-pad. When he began working on the second circle Hermione outlined the circle and suspended square he had just marked using a special potion she brewed with her blood and herbs as ink, and a brush she made with her own hair as bristles. Then she moved to mark the circle and suspended pentagon he had finished marking. While he emptied several boxes of sea salt to complete the protective enclosing outer ring she worked on adding the necessary details and glyphs to the two inner circles. It was twenty minutes before she was done and satisfied.

“Could you pass the stones?”

Batman opened a matte black case lined with black foam and several shallow notches holding gemstones and crystals of varying hues. One by one he passed large fist-sized chunks of priceless clear diamonds to Hermione who placed them very carefully on the hand glazed pottery plates at the vertices of the pentagon. Then he passed over tangerine sized chunks of green, blue, red, and yellow coloured diamonds.

Hermione moved to stand within the square she had marked. Then as she placed them at the points of the square she chanted softly.

“Spring Maid, blow Air for the North, Grant me animation and life, communication and intellect, Grant me the knowledge to blow away this taint below.” The blue diamond set on the Northern Quadrant and it began to glow silver from within. A gust of wind swirled around her tossing her hair into disarray.

“Summer Lord, burn Fire for the East, Grant me the energy and the passion, the will to sacrifice and purify, Grant me the drive to burn away this taint below.” The red diamond set on the Eastern Quadrant and it began to glow orange from within. Fire burst into life around her palms before dying away.

“Mother Fall, pour Water for the West, Grant me the intuition and wisdom, the feelings and emotions, Grant me the empathy to wash away this taint below.” The green diamond set on the Western Quadrant and it began to glow teal-peacock from within. Water condensed out of the air and swirled around her feet before seeping through the cracks in the foundation.

“Father Winter, raise Earth for the South, Grant me strength and stability, logic and business sense, Grant me the certainty to separate this taint below.” The yellow diamond set on the Western Quadrant and it began to glow gold from within. The ground trembled slightly below her feet though the present cracks did not expand nor did anything else shift out of place.

Faint tendrils of energy rose from each coloured stone and rose to a point above her head where it merged and became a swirling mass of silver and gold energy. Then it separated into five strands that darted out and anchored in the clear diamonds on the second ring.

Batman watched as the coloured stones continued to pulse and produce streams of coloured light that merged and morphed to silver/gold. Hermione stood underneath the rainbow of lights and colours, her face tilted up her palms held face up. After fifteen minutes the pulsing slowed and faded. The ribbons fell apart into motes of light that vanished. Then the last of the energy resonating within the crystalline structures began to fade and die out.

He did not move. She had been very explicit in her instructions to Not step over the salt circle until she said it was safe. Then her eyes opened, there was a deep gold glow tinting her irises before they began to fade and leave her with her natural hazel eyes.

She did not speak. She appeared to be distracted and distant.

“Is it safe?”

She blinked. “Oh. Oh yes.”

She knelt and began picking up the gemstones.

“You never told me where you got these gems.” She murmured. “The diamonds are so large and clear and flawless… They make a very potent set of ritual stones. I do not believe any of the old pureblood families have anything like them. If they did there are so many old rituals…” She made a sound of denied longing and shook her head. “No. It would be safer if they are cut into smaller stones once we are done.”

Batman studied her intently. “We can decide what should be done with the stones later. For now we need to clean up and leave.”

He kicked the salt circle breaking it. Then he staggered. The power, the euphoric intoxication, the joy… “My God.” He whispered.

She smiled, a tiny curve of her lips, and held out hands filled with priceless gems to him.

Batman didn’t know what got into him but he stepped forward, grabbed her hands and hauled her close for a very intense embrace. She squeaked when her face was squashed into his armoured chest but she did not fight to get free, instead she wrapped her own arms around his waist under his cape. He felt one hand stroking his back soothingly.

“I know.” Her voice was slightly muffled. “It feels so different, doesn’t it? So clean and untainted. So pure. So much potential. So much…”

He shifted so she was pressed against one side, one arm across her shoulders keeping her close to him. “I never realized… Was this what it was like before?”

“I think so. I read Robert Wayne’s journals. The way he described it. The feeling of potential, of hope and possibilities. I think it is this feeling that drew people to Gotham.”

Then he remembered something else. “How are you feeling? Are you feeling drained or dizzy? Do you need anything to eat?”

She laughed. “No I’m fine. I feel a little tired but nothing painful.” She glanced around. “We need to clean up.”

They picked up the stones and packed them away in the case. Then Hermione watched as Batman carefully poured a fire accelerant around and over the chalked and painted ritual circles. He ordered her to get out of the building before he set the charges and followed her. Once outside he gave instructions to his younger partners.

“Once we are clear get to a safe distance and set off the charges. The fire should not escape the building but if it does call the fire station.” He smirked. “Even if it does bring down the building it won’t be too much of a loss.”

He guided her to the Batmobile and helped her in. She was already dozing off before she even secured the buckles so he leaned over and secured the straps for her.

“You never told me where you got the gems.” She mumbled. “Bruce tried but the ones he found cracked after only two minutes.”

Batman smirked. “That’s my little secret.”

He ignited the engine and shifted into drive.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Bruce watched Hermione go through folders of printed reports and hand written notes spread out on the second desk in the main library. It had become her informal work station when she was in Wayne Manor. There were electronic copies of the proposals but she liked making comments, notes and amendments using ink on paper. She had been very distracted since the first successful Purification Casting in Old Gotham. Almost buoyant and energetic.

He watched as she stripped off her ever present Gotham U hoody and tossed it towards one of the unused chairs before weaving her fingers together and stretching out her arms towards the front, palms facing away from her. The action lifted the hem of her pale green camisole out of the back waistband of her jeans baring a half inch band of pale skin. Her hair was twisted and secured on top of her head using three old-fashioned wooden pencils as chopsticks.

“What is it?”

Hermione looked up and smiled. “Stella Vandermeer contacted me. She is interested in formalizing the neighbourhood watch groups in Old Gotham into a district council. To get the residents involved in the urban renewal plans. I asked her why now and she said for some reason she wanted to get started and didn’t want to wait. She felt it was the Right Time.” She laughed softly. “She remembers Park Lane, the entertainment district, the galleries and outdoor festivals. She wants to bring that back Bruce. The tourism and economic benefit alone would be enormous.”

Bruce smiled faintly. “I also got a few phone calls in the past few days. Many of those who laughed at me a few months back are asking if I have begun setting up consortiums for the renewal plans. They also feel now is the time to get in. Most of them are older businessmen and women who remember what Gotham used to be like.”

Hermione leaned back in her chair and rubbed the back of her neck. The action caused her breasts to shift under the thin stretchy cotton knit of her camisole but she did not notice Bruce’s sudden stiffness.

“Councilwoman Eva Langhorne got back to me. The refurbished community center is just about ready to be reopened. This would be a good time to get everyone introduced. What do you think of an informal buffet with a denim only dress code? So people like Eva and Stella can meet local residents and leaders like Yanet and Maria?

Bruce nodded. “That sounds like a good idea. Let Alfred know. He has all the contacts to set up something like that.”

“I have an e-mail list I can use to send out an RSVP; to give us a rough headcount of possible attendees.”

Bruce found himself moving until he stood behind Hermione’s chair.

“Lean forward.” He ordered brusquely.

She stiffened for a second before complying. Then she moaned softly as strong fingers began to dig into the tense knots around the base of her neck and shoulders.

“If you ever go bankrupt you can make a fortune as a masseuse.” Hermione groaned softly as he worked a particularly resistant knot.

“What are you thinking?” Bruce asked casually as he moved further down her spine.

“The architect Lucius recommended is no good. He nearly had a hissy fit when I told him his proposals didn’t fit your vision.”

“What vision?”

She did not protest as he cleared a space on the desk and then urged her to stand and lie down cheek and front pressed against the cool, polished surface.

“Gardens. We want one near Park Lane and at the old school. And a religious meeting hall. I’ve been asking around for an honourable pastor but it is a bit hard. Christian sects are rather narrow minded. I don’t know enough of the Asian communities to locate a trustworthy religious— Oh Lord that is purrfect.” She moaned as his fingers slipped lower stroking each side of the indent bisecting her back.

“I’m thinking of someone younger who doesn’t have a big reputation for the nodes. He or she would be more willing to see things our wa— Oh! Little lower. To the left please.” She hissed as he worked a tense spot.

There was quiet only broken by her soft moans until she regained enough self-control to follow her conversational thread.

“Gazebo. Shrine. Memorial. Statue. Any could be the focus. In Japan there are old shrines that have God-Trees. Perhaps if it is marked as a historical monument no—” She hissed as a hard knot gave under his touch.

Bruce was amused. He was in the odd position of actually working to distract a female from her usual train of thoughts. Most women were usually quick to focus all of their attention and interest on him. Hermione was more involved in analyzing their plans and options. He had a feeling she would have reacted the same way if Alfred or Lucius offered to massage her tense back.

He wondered how long it had been since she’d had a lover. He knew she simply hadn’t had the time for a relationship since she began working on this project. Or did she meet any of her lunch or dinner dates at his place or a hotel? Somehow he didn’t think so. She was too sharp to be led astray with seductive words or compliments. Every time he had tried she had out manoeuvred him into revealing what he had been trying to hide. The only time he had succeeded when he had distracted her by touch. For an intellectual and focused soul she was an amazingly sensual person. She loved taking hour long soaking baths. She always chose the chair covered with nubby textured fabrics and softened with cushions and throws. When she walked by her fingers often drifted over carved and smooth surfaces of stone or wood. The only items she actively resisted touching were antique carved statues, delicate porcelain and paintings but sometimes he would see her examining a particular piece, her fingers just skimming over the surface with bare millimetres between her skin and the piece of art. Even the gems he asked Superman to make, she admired their beauty, the fire and light refracted through them, the resonance created when she channelled her power through them, but she did not care they were priceless, the only ones of their kind in existence. They were tools. Her true treasures were books.

Sometimes he would check up on her to find she had fallen asleep in her bed with piles of books where a lover or bed mate would lie. A subconscious desire? Was knowledge a substitute for a flesh-and-blood man? Which would she really prefer? Or would it depend on the man? Bruce wondered if he could be that man. Would she abandon her books if it were him in her bed?

Stop it. He warned himself sternly. You’re just friends. She never indicated any romantic interest and too much depends on her for you to muck it up because you haven’t had a bed mate for a long while; so don’t even go there. She’s too important for a casual fling.

He lifted his hands and stepped back after tugging her camisole down.

“How are you feeling?”

She slid off the table and onto her chair. Her expression was soft and sleepy, eyes half-lidded and sensual.

“Much better.” She murmured. “I didn’t realize I was so tense.”

“Which node are you going to work on next? And when?”

Hermione responded without hesitation. “Port Adams Tuesday night. Batman will be picking me up from Wayne Towers.”

Chapter Text

“You asked to see me.”

Jason Blood turned towards the large knee to ceiling windows lining one wall to let in whatever light was available. He wasn’t surprised that alarms hadn’t gone off; it was the Batman.

He inhaled deeply. “I talked to William Hawk Eye. He was very admonishing.” Jason winced. “Much worse than any of my old trainers.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I never realized…” He trailed off.

Batman’s lips thinned. “Ignorance is no excuse Jason. You and hundreds of thousands in Europe are wrong. You brought those prejudices with you when you left Europe and you did not even bother trying to educate yourselves on the true Nature of a Necroscope. It’s like saying all knights and swordsmen are mercenaries and killers.”

Jason’s eyes flashed but he subsided. “You’re right. I should have known better. Rumour and hearsay are not the most accurate sources of information. Even firsthand experience can be tainted and skewed.”

Batman shifted. “What do you want?”

Jason inhaled deeply. “I would like to apologize to Miss Granger.”

Batman did not blink. “I’ll let her know but I doubt she’ll be interested in meeting you. The psychosomatic effect of the binding is unnerving. Every time she experiences it her first reaction is to run and hide.” Jason winced at that jab. Batman was faintly satisfied as he continued. “The best thing you can do is keep your distance from her.”

Jason nodded then he spoke. “The Binding was not completely successful on her.” Batman did not react but Jason continued. “Something happened a few weeks ago. Given how protective you and Bruce Wayne are of her I strongly suspect she had something to do with it.” Batman’s expression remained stony. “Whoever responsible is going to draw a great deal of attention to Gotham. They have literally Shifted the Balance of Power within Gotham City. Now there’s a great deal of purified free energy available to any sensitive or experienced mage; sooner or later outsiders are going to notice. They’ll start moving in to lay claim.”

Batman shifted slightly. “You do not have to worry about outsiders. Precautions have been taken.”

Jason shook his head. “You don’t understand. Once others find there is a powerful magic worker who is capable of purifying tainted nodes there will be a lot of interest to secure the loyalty and allegiance of them. By any means.”

Batman absorbed that information. “I understand.”

~o~

As soon as he got back to the Cave he started developing new protocols to identify foreign magic users. Batman frowned as he tapped at one of the keyboard terminals of the mainframe he used in his quest to clean up Gotham.

“What are you doing?” Robin asked curious.

“Setting up a few spybots to look for changing property ownership in Gotham.”

Robin stiffened. “Is this about the Cleansing Project?”

Batman stopped typing and leaned back in his chair. “Yes. Jason Blood confirmed what she said from the start. Other magic users are going to start sniffing around Gotham.”

Robin frowned. “I thought the real estate trust was supposed to keep them out.”

Batman huffed. “It will stop them from settling in Gotham but they can still enter the city as visitors and tourists to look and find the mage responsible for the Change.”

“Mia.” Robin breathed softly.

“Yes. I never realized before but most would consider what she’s done to be impossible. If she made the impossible happen once they will want it to happen again. For their selfish personal benefit no matter how much it may cost her.” His face hardened. “I will not let that happen.”

Robin nodded resolutely. “What do you need?”

“Put alerts for any outside buyers of land in Gotham. Especially holding companies with little or no reputation and bare bones backgrounds. Or companies registered in Europe or with strong European ties. See if you can get into the federal databases and track visitors from Europe without basic records in electronic databases.” His face was hard. “Gotham is my city. I will not tolerate any of them messing things up and hurting Mia.”

Chapter Text

The second Purification Casting at Port Adams didn’t go as smoothly as the first one. Despite it being a private warehouse owned by the Eos Trust, they were interrupted by sailors and ground crew who were attracted by the light show. Their cargo was probably not entirely legal for them to put up such a fight. Batman made a mental note to investigate all ships currently unloading in this section of Port Adams.

Hermione just managed to duck behind one of the crates and sneak over two aisles down when she realized she had left the gems on the ground level. If they lost even one of the stones there was no guarantee it could ever be replaced!

One of the dock yard workers not fighting realized the chunks of crystal were not crystal but real diamonds. He grabbed one and began running.

“No!”

Without thinking Hermione moved until was between him and the exit summoning fire in one hand and lightening in the other. She took out those she had a clear line of fire to.

Then she dived for the diamond falling to the concrete. Bullets struck her shoulder and upper arm. She kept rolling until she could come to her feet. By now Robin and Batgirl had joined the fight. She had to stop them. She only hoped it worked. She forced herself to Apparate just next to Batman.

“Obliviate.”

Another short Apparation jump. “Obliviate.”

Another Apparation jump. “Obliviate.”

Jump. “Obliviate.”

Jump. “Obliviate.”

She swayed on shaky knees.

“What did you do?” Batman wanted to know.

“Clear … mind. Break … circle.” Her voice was thin and thready.

He turned to Robin and Batgirl. “Clear your minds of any thoughts of violence. Do not fight what comes.”

Then he took three quick steps and broke the salt circle with a sweep of one booted foot.

The three costumed vigilantes swayed under the euphoric rush.

Hermione threw up chunks of blood and half digested food. She fell to her knees.

“Hermione!” Robin cried out alarmed.

Batman quickly helped her wipe off the worst of the bile and fluids before lifting her up bridal style. He spoke quickly. “Tie the smugglers up and move them out. Clean up the best you can and use accelerants to remove all traces. Be thorough. She used her own blood to mark the circles. Once you are done call the police and go back on patrol.”

“What about Hermione?” Robin wanted to know.

“I’ll look after her.”

Hermione moaned and passed out as Batman broke a knock-out pellet under her nose.

~o~

When she woke up she looked into three concerned faces above and around her. Alfred, Tim, and Bruce. Her lips were dry and cracked.

“Wat—” She didn’t have to continue. Alfred was there slipping thin slivers of ice into her mouth. After a few seconds she felt better. “How?”

“Batman brought you here.” Alfred spoke calmly but his eyes were concerned as he quickly began taking her vitals. “How are you feeling Miss Granger?”

“Sore.” She coughed. She covered her mouth and coughed harder. Blood began seeping between her fingers.

Alfred was there with two hand towels. One to cover her mouth, the other to clean her bloody hand. After a long bout of coughing she felt half-way decent.

“What’s wrong?” Tim asked frightened.

She smiled weakly. “My body has undergone a lot of strain. The fight and getting shot at the end didn’t help.”

“But you didn’t react so badly after the first time.” Bruce pointed out concerned.

“I had already laid a lot of the ground work in Old Gotham.” She pointed out. “There were clear pockets all over the place. When the circle broke the clear pockets were drawn in more quickly to meet the purified node energies. But in Port Adams there was a violent clash of opposing polarities. Since I was part of the focus it had a very strong effect on me as well.” She pointed to the bloody towels.

Bruce made up his mind. “I want Leslie to examine you before you continue.”

Hermione frowned. “That is not necessary.”

“You were unconscious for two days Mia!”

“I will be fine. Ritual casting always has a strong toll on the body. I just need to wait a week before doing it again.”

“And what if you didn’t heal completely? What if the next casting has a much stronger effect on you?” Bruce pointed out.

Hermione shook her head. “I can’t stop Bruce. We’ve already done two nodes. There’s just two more to go.”

“And what if you die after the third node? What happens to the last node? What if you die after purifying Arkham? Who will hold the Eos Trust and keep the bigots out?”

Hermione hesitated. “You could ask William Hawk Eye to recommend a few mages who could be added to the Eos Trust beneficiaries.”

“Would you really have confidence in just anyone for such a commitment? I’ve worked with you for months. I know how much you have invested in Gotham. Anyone else will not have that same dedication and willingness. I cannot trust just anyone.”

Hermione was torn. “All right Leslie can give me a check up.”

“And you’re not continuing until she gives the all clear.” Bruce insisted. Hermione hesitated. “Promise me Mia.”

She couldn’t deny him. “All right, I promise I won’t cast to purify Tricorner Yards until Leslie gives us the all clear.”

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Dick Grayson frowned as he scanned the headline and photos of the Gotham Gazette he picked up after arriving in Gotham. He was very glad he decided to use one of the empty suites that Bruce owned around the city, units that doubled as safe houses in case of an emergency. He needed time to absorb all the information.

Twenty minutes later he wondered how the hell he could have missed it. Alfred had been dropping hints about the very nice Miss Granger and Tim had been very bubbly about Hermione who knew so much neat stuff about history and computers. But then again he had never talked to Bruce so Dick did not know how his old mentor felt about her. And Dick knew well and good if Bruce said no he would get his way in the end. That was why he had moved to Bludhaven in the first place.

He went through the pile of newspapers and magazines he had asked the concierge to pick up. Each of them had snippets of public domain information about Bruce’s recent activities in his personal and business life. Forty minutes on his laptop got more information from Wayne Corporate databases. There was nothing about the special project she was working on for Bruce. Just a few concerned notes from Lucius about how much money Bruce was spending. But then again it was his personal fortune and not company dollars.

Hermione Granger was hired with only basic O-levels as a research trainee in London. She completed a college diploma in data mining while working in London before moving to Gotham. There she attracted Lucius Fox’s attention with her accurate complete results and high quality work ethics and became the primary researcher for Special Projects that mainly worked on developing gear for military use. Of course it never went into actual production. Only Batman and his protégées had access to the expensive and cutting edge tools for their night time activities.

About six months ago Bruce had contacted him and given him the very basics of some unexpected information. Hermione Granger was a magic user, a special one who could speak to the Dead. With her research skills, spiritual sources, and magical training she had developed a theory and offered a possibility of turning Gotham around, by purifying the tainted nodes under Gotham.

Dick didn’t believe in too much in magic fixing Gotham though he knew there were experts and real magic users around. He had worked with Raven in the Teen Titans before becoming Nightwing. If it were true then why had no one else tried this before? Surely some mystic expert for the light or dark would have tried to harness the nodes!

He sighed. There was too much information, too much speculation about the nature of Bruce Wayne’s relationship with his employee Mia Granger. Some gossip columnists were speculating that they were already engaged, or even married. And there was that kiss Bruce gave her at the New Hope Community Center reopening in Old Gotham. It was not calculated, or staged, it was natural and heartfelt. They looked like a real couple wearing denim jeans and sweaters for a casual night out.

What was going on between the two of them? Dick picked up the phone and speed-dialed a number.

“Hello Alfred. Are you free for lunch or tea? I need to talk… No, don’t tell anyone I’m in Gotham just yet… I’m staying in suite 812, 73 Bay Road. It is located near Seventh and Fifteenth… Sounds good. I’ll pick up lunch… All right, I’ll see you at one.”

~o~

Alfred Pennyworth resisted the urge to chuckle at Master Dick’s impatient expression. After finishing half his BLT club sandwich platter he patted the crumbs from his mouth and took a sip of the iced lemon tea.

“What is it you wish to know Master Grayson?”

“Tell me about Them.”

“You mean Master Bruce and Miss Granger.”

“Yes.”

“They have a close relationship. As close as Master Bruce has ever experienced without romantic intimacy or Batman being involved. He’s quite open with her regarding all other aspects of his character and private life.”

Dick frowned. “You mean she doesn’t know?”

“She doesn’t. They are two separate individuals. As far as she knows Master Bruce helps finance her other friends’ activities. Master Bruce finances her research and plans while Batman actually helps her implement them.”

“Do you really believe her? That she can talk to the dead?”

Alfred sipped his tea. “There are more things in heaven and earth Master Grayson than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” Alfred misquoted from Hamlet. “Whether or not I believe what she is doing Is having an effect. The months she worked in Old Gotham produced measurable decreases according to Commissioner Gordon and the social agencies in the area. The week after she worked her magic Master Bruce received new interest in his plans for urban renewal and violence has noticeably dropped in the area. They have already broken ground for a two memorial parks, one at the old school and the other where his parents died. It was Miss Granger’s suggestion.”

Dick looked away. “What about their relationship? Everyone is talking about a secret romance going on.”

Alfred sniffed. “When have the scandal mongers ever been accurate Master Grayson?” Dick was abashed. Then Alfred continued. “However it is my hope that something other than friendship and respect grows from their time together.”

Dick blinked. “You can’t be serious Alfred. We’re talking about Bruce! The guy who dated Selina Kyle and some of the gorgeous women on the planet.”

Alfred’s eyes were steady. “Women who could not, would not accept or understand him. Women who left him or were left behind because they could not even come close to keeping up with him. Miss Granger keeps him on his toes. He knows he cannot intimidate her. Even Batman cannot make her back down when she makes up her mind.”

Dick was taken aback. “Really? What did she do?”

Alfred smiled and launched into a vivid description of several small incidents, battles of wills between Hermione Granger and Bruce Wayne and other clashes she had with Batman. Dick choked when he heard of how she had coolly moved straight into the line of fire to take out five opponents one after another after she had been shot, before she fell down and started throwing up blood.

“She’s crazy!”

“She’s dedicated.” Alfred corrected. “She just doesn’t choose to wear a cape and go out to fight crime every other night. She’s an academic with the desire to help. And what she has done has had a large positive effect on the less fortunate in Gotham.”

Dick frowned. “I’ve read the papers and seen the police statistics but it is too weird!”

“Not at all Master Grayson. Why don’t you take a walk in Old Gotham and see for yourself?”

“I think I will.”

“Good. Should I set a plate for you?”

“No thanks. I’ll probably drop in tomorrow though.”

Chapter Text

Dick sighed as he found himself walking aimlessly. A quick spin through Old Gotham confirmed Alfred’s words. He had lived and fought in this neighbourhood. He Knew how it had Felt Before. It was different now. So much lighter and more relaxed. People were actually smiling at each other. There were gang members on the corners but they weren’t attacking or extorting any by-stander. In a few cases they were even helping local residents and watching over younger teenagers shooting hoops or playing ball. Several empty lots had been transformed into butterfly gardens where mothers gathered with their younger children. There was hope and belief, less despair and violence. There were several new construction projects underway in various parts of Old Gotham. All reputable companies favoured by Wayne Enterprises for major projects.

He speed dialled another number. He needed to talk with someone else who had seen the two of them.

“Hey Tim. Do you have a minute?”

::Sure. What’s up Dick?::

“You’ve seen Hermione Granger. What’s she like?”

::It’s kind of hard to say. She isn’t model beautiful and sometimes she looks like an old schoolmarm with pencils stuck in her hair but when she looks at you and smiles you always feel much better. You feel like you can tell her anything and she will never judge you or make you feel like an idiot.::

“Do you believe her?”

::Definitely. I saw her work magic. She can make plants grow and bloom like Poison Ivy. She can make stone and metal bend and change shape like it was clay. She can make things vanish and float. She can even teleport herself around the city. She knew things about Bruce that no one else knows, things about Batman though she doesn’t know it.::

Dick frowned. “What do you mean?”

::She knew bits about Talia and Ra’s al Ghul. She told Bruce he might be a wizard and that one day he would have to kill him to stop him.::

Dick stopped walking. “Are you serious?”

::As a heart attack.::

Slowly Dick resumed walking. “Is she a leech?”

::Nah. She has no qualms about spending a fortune on books and relics but she hates shopping for formal events when Bruce and Alfred insist she take a break from research. She ends up using magic to change some of what she bought so they looked much better on her. Like Cinderella’s clothes only hers didn’t change back at midnight. Most of the time she wears jeans and a sweatshirt or tee.::

“What is she like around Bruce?”

::You should have seen it Dick! It was really funny how she treated him like a kid. One who was breaking all the rules. Once he stopped flirting with her she treated him like a best-bud study partner. You should have seen how he acted when she went out with Steven Hawk Wing. He delayed starting patrols until she was back in her Wayne Towers suite. I asked her if she was really dating Steven but she said she was just picking his brain and they were only friends. When she was shot in Port Adams B went real cold and angry. When she started throwing up blood he nearly lost it. He refused to let her cast again until Doc Leslie gave the all clear.::

“Is she better now?”

::Still not hundred percent. Bruce is afraid any new strain will just undo all the healing and the Doc agrees. She says Mia should be okay in another two weeks.::

“Anything else?”

Tim was silent for a while. ::She makes him laugh Dick. I mean really laugh and forget about wearing the cape and going out each night. He actually lets Barb and me go out without demanding a complete report within an hour of getting back. It’s like the heavy despair has been lifted off of him as well.::

Dick looked up and realized he was near a cemetery he recognized. It was where Thomas and Martha Wayne were buried.

“Thanks for the info Tim. I’ll talk to you later.”

::Are you coming for dinner?::

“Not tonight. Tomorrow for sure.”

::Okay Dick, I’ll see you tomorrow then.::

“Later.”

And he ended the call.

He made his way down the well tended paths and frowned. Someone was playing music in the cemetery. Curious he followed the song and turned a corner blocked by a stand of evergreens and came to a stop before quickly ducking behind a tree.

Resting on top of Thomas and Martha Waynes’ headstones was a portable boom box playing the music Dick had been hearing. Standing between the graves was a dark haired man wearing a charcoal grey suit and scarlet tie. In his arms was a much shorter woman with curly brown hair flowing free to her mid back. She wore a mid-calf length peacock blue jersey wool dress with no sleeves and a wide boat collar that slipped off one shoulder baring her bra straps as they danced.

Bruce was smiling. A real smile, not one of those plastic social smiles he used whenever he was attending the latest social gala.

The music was not the latest hit or even performed by a living artist.

Bruce brushed his lips against her temple as she leaned against him, pressing her back against his front, crossing his arms at her waist. And they moved slowly, then more boldly where she spun out then back in towards Bruce.

“I had completely forgotten about this.” Bruce chuckled. “I remember hearing it late at night. Whenever I snuck out of bed I remember seeing my parents dance in the conservatory under the moonlight.

“Mmm. Martha loved Frank Sinatra’s music. She badgered your father into buying tickets whenever he performed near Gotham. Your father would accuse her of having a crush on him and that she would have liked dancing with Sinatra more than just watching. She especially loved Singing in the Rain. Said it made her feel better about living in Gotham where it was always cloudy and rainy.”

“There was another song they would always play…”

“I’ve got you under my skin. Your father said it described what she did to him.”

The song ended and another began.

“Martha hated classical music. She would attend the opera and orchestra events to support the Arts but she really liked popular music. Music that touched everyone’s hearts, something all of us can relate to.”

“Do you like Sinatra?” Bruce was curious to know.

“Oh yes. My parents loved the golden oldies. I grew up learning to swing, foxtrot, quickstep, and chacha.” She became more wistful. “The summers I travelled with them we danced in the local studios of whichever city we were in. There was no one who I could really dance with at Hogwarts. The inbred bigots probably gave their children lessons but I wasn’t going to ask them to form a dance club.” She grinned up at him. “I’m sure Alfred would have made sure you learned as any proper gentleman should.”

Bruce smirked. “Do you want me prove it?”

She laughed. “You don’t have to. I’m sure Alfred would have Never allowed you to skip those classes.”

Bruce laughed out loud. “You are right.” He confided. “I didn’t like Madame Flaherty’s Dance Studio but I liked Alfred’s asparagus dishes even less.”

When the song came to an end Hermione stepped out of his arms and turned the boom-box off. She crouched to touch the rose bush planted upon Martha Wayne’s grave. Within seconds the small green buds grew and unfurled into large fragrant blooms.

“It’s working Martha. Soon Gotham will be reborn. What you and Thomas worked so hard for… It will be the city you remember. Your son has made sure of it.” She stepped back and brought her hands up palms pressing against each other and bowed.

“We made sure of it.” Bruce countered. “If it wasn’t for you none of this would have ever happened. You made it possible.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and drew her close.

She leaned her head against him. “Two more nodes and we can begin moving forward faster. What do you want to do with the yard nodes?”

“A lot of ships and rails come from the Far East. I’m certain the sailors will appreciate a community center and facilities including shopping and translation and chaplain services in Port Adams itself. Perhaps it could be served by priests from several local religious groups not exclusively Christian priests.”

“And Tricorner?”

“There are residential zones. I’m sure they’ll appreciate a community center their children do not have to use bridges to access.”

“The node is in one of the warehouse complexes.” She pointed out.

“The land can be rezoned and fences built. The shipping traffic can be directed to one of the ports on the mainland.”

“I want a church on Arkham. Something along the lines of a monastery or spiritual retreat. Everyone must see good coming from bad. That everything moves in cycles and now Gotham is on the upswing.”

She pressed her hand over his on her bicep and squeezed reassuringly.

Then she smiled faintly. “Your mother is disappointed you tried dating Barbara Gordon. She says you should have known better to even have started. You caused quite a rift in your family with that choice.”

Bruce inhaled deeply. “I was tired and weak.”

“Oh really?” Hermione mocked softly. “I think you’re lying.”

“I hoped she could make me feel not so empty.”

“But it didn’t work.” It was a statement.

“She was experienced and mature for her age. But not emotionally or spiritually.”

“She had not been broken. She had not survived the worst of life.” Hermione murmured. “It takes a great deal of strength to pick yourself up and move after such an event.” She eyed him sharply. “Were you testing her? To see if she could survive?”

He was silent for a while. “I don’t know.” He admitted.

“I think you do.” She moved in front of him and forced him to meet her eyes. “There are different kinds of strength Bruce. She did not have what you were seeking.”

“I can see that now.”

She made a scoffing sound. “Anyone who understood you could have told you that.” She shook her head. “Next time you decide to get serious about someone talk to Alfred first. He knows you better than you know yourself.”

He chuckled. “So if I want to date you I should get Alfred’s okay first?” His voice was light and teasing but Dick could hear something else hidden in the words.

“That is my advice. Sometimes it is the people around us who know us better than we know ourselves.” She stared at the gravestone. “When I dated Ron Weasley a friend asked me what I saw in him. The answer I gave her did not make much sense to me. I allowed myself to be pushed by convention and society into a relationship because it was tradition for witches to get at least engaged if not married within a few years of graduation. Because I wanted to fit in. My parents were not happy with the relationship so I delayed setting a wedding date until Ron broke up with me. We were still friends but things were strained between us. Harry supported Ron like he always did when we were students, but mainly because he was seeing Ron’s sister Ginny. I think Luna and Neville were the only ones who sided with my decision to wait.

“Luna sent me a letter after I was exiled. She was living in Norway to complete her apprenticeship at the time and wanted me to move there but I said no. I didn’t want her to get entangled in the mess. Her father had just died a few months before and she was still grieving. She told me I had a destiny across the Western Sea in the City of Three Lands.” Bruce stared. “I know, I thought she was a bit loopy. She has always been a bit odd with skewed perceptions. When the job openings came up I looked for any position outside Europe. The one in Gotham seemed like a perfect match. Corporate Archives and Research. It wasn’t until I did the research on Gotham I found it was primarily made of three large islands and several smaller ones. Three islands on the Eastern Seaboard on the Atlantic Ocean, across the waters west of Europe. I took it as a sign and didn’t look back despite Gotham’s foreboding reputation, the corruption and high crime rates, the Rogues and everything else.”

Bruce was shaken. “You ignored conventional wisdom simply because a friend said so?”

“Luna never lies. She says things as she sees them. What she sees is not what most of us see. I think she has a touch of the Sight.” Hermione sighed. “It would be nice if I could talk to her.”

“And why can’t you?”

“She’s from a traditional enclave. She doesn’t have a clue about electronics or technology. To send letters across the Atlantic I’d have to go to an enclave. A very tedious process when what I really want is to have a conversation with her.”

“Then invite her to Gotham, to stay or for a visit. Does she have any family or reason to stay in Europe?”

“I don’t know. She might be married now for all I know.”

“Perhaps you should ask and find out.”

She leaned against Bruce, slipping under his arm. “I will. After Arkham.” Then she chuckled. “Did Mary Grayson ever call her son Little Peacock?”

Bruce blinked. “I don’t know. Why do you ask?”

“She wants me to pull his ear and give him a good scold. She says he has been sulking long enough.” She looked towards a stand of trees, trees where Dick was standing. “All baby birds must leave the nest but people are not birds, people can go back home.” She raised her voice. “Tell me Richard Grayson, are you a bird or a man?”

Dick didn’t know what to think. Did she know or didn’t she? Birds could easily be a play on the name Flying Graysons. And his mother did call him Little Peacock. He doubted anyone would remember that after all of these years.

He stiffened his spine and began walking up the path towards the couple. When he was a few feet away from her he stopped and studied her carefully. He could see what Tim meant. Hermione Granger was not conventionally beautiful but there was something about her eyes, the way she cocked her head and lifted an eyebrow that drew the eye. She was steel through and through as she moved to stand in front of Bruce and lifted her chin to meet his eyes without a qualm.

Her voice was deep and hollow. “Tell me Puţin Păun, are you a bird or a man? Or do I need to tell Sergei he should find another to look after Eleanore?” A pale white film covered her hazel irises.

Dicks eyes widened at that old familiar threat. “A man mamă.” He spoke quickly.

She smiled brilliantly and patted his cheek. “Good answer. I won’t say anything about your decision to become a law officer because it is your choice but I must confess I am disappointed that you still don’t have a nice young lady. Pining after someone is grand in some fairy tale but This is Not a Ballad.” She grabbed his ear and twisted hard. “I want you to think hard about your priorities and goals. I don’t want you flitting around for the next twenty years like your old guardian. Find a nice young lady and Settle Down!” She forced him to look at her. “In the end the heart is what matters. Having your father with me gave me the strength and desire to keep going through difficult times. You need someone who can give you that stability and focus.” Tears slipped from the cloudy eyes as she cupped his cheeks, rubbing his chin, nose and forehead in a familiar nearly forgotten manner. “We are proud of you. Dragul meu baiat.” Then she turned around to face Bruce Wayne. “Thank you for what you have done. What you are doing. Soon it will be your turn to be rewarded.”

And then she closed her eyes and sagged, knees giving way. Bruce was quick to hold her close while she recovered. When her eyes opened the white film had vanished.

“Mary is gone.” Her voice was slightly hoarse and strained. “She had simply been waiting for the chance to say her piece.”

Dick came to a decision. It was time he took control and acted like the man he wanted to be by taking the first step. He looked at Bruce and spoke softly but clearly.

“I’d like you to add Bludhaven to the Eos Trust. When Miss Granger gets the time I would appreciate it if she does the cleansing in the Caernaervon.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t want to see Batman in Bludhaven but I would look forward to visits from Bruce Wayne and Hermione Granger.”

Bruce stilled and gave a slight nod. “I think we can come to some arrangement.”

Chapter Text

“Get out Mia!”

Hermione ignored the order. She had to help!

She choked and coughed. Blood spilled from her mouth and stained her mask. She cursed silently. The old internal wounds had reopened.

They were getting overwhelmed. She glanced around. Two of the thugs were already making off with the gems. Their ‘friends’ were using machine gun sniper nests to pin down Batgirl and Robin, to keep them away from the node zone and Batman.

Hermione knew she had to stop them. Batman might be able to secure replacements but never in time for the last Casting on Arkham lands. How had things gone so wrong?!? She reached out blindly, seeking, Calling for aid.

Why weren’t they responding to her need? It was not an entirely selfish desire; she was trying to serve the land. She reached out with tenuous astral fingers that were destroyed by the wildly fluxing energy. None of the spirits could reach her, not while she was so close to a raging node.

She had to do this by herself. If only she was not so weak. If only she was not Bound!

::Do you wish that?::

Wish what?

::To be Not Bound?::

YES!

::What will you give up?:: The aetheral voice sharpened. ::Will you give up your allies? Your friends? Your family?::

None of that! Only what is truly mine. Myself.

::You need to make a decision. What will you give up?::

Myself.

::Your ka? Ba? Akh? Ren? Sheut?::

A deceased spirit from Ancient Egypt? How had he reached Gotham? But she did not allow her curiosity to distract her.

Anything. As long as I am given the time to purify Arkham and find a substitute mage for the Eos Trust I am willing.

::Why are you so ready to sacrifice yourself for this City?::

It is my home. I care about the people. Yanet, Maria, Ilsa, Jose, Miguel and all the others in Old Gotham. Those like Jim Gordon and his daughter Barbara and Lucius Fox. People like Alfred, Tim, and Bruce who have accepted me and all my differences.

There was a long tense silence. ::I expect a fitting monument to be made to me Hermione Granger, daughter of Jane and Daniel.::

I swear it. One of the node gardens will be dedicated to you.

The unheard voice chuckled. ::Oh no Hermione Jane, I expect something more lasting than a structure of stone, glass and metal. I want a memorial of flesh and blood. One that will never forget, one that will always honour Me.::

Hermione thought hard before answering. Give me your name, your past deeds. We will remember and honour; I, my children, their children, and theirs for at the minimum four generations while my influence stays true.

::Agreed. My name is Thoth. My deeds are countless.::

Hermione trembled. She had not expected a God to respond to her plea. She swallowed her fear. I do not know the Old Ways my Lord, but I will learn what you teach me. My children and grandchildren and theirs will be raised to honour the Lord of Ma’at, the Lord of Divine Words, the Thrice Great.

::You know of me.:: He sounded amused.

I know some. The old histories are not very accurate or complete. Too much has been forgotten, discarded, suppressed, or lost.

::True. Since we left mortals have forgotten a great deal. I will teach you.::

Hermione cried out as fire touched her biceps, searing it from within. She could feel the material of the bodysuit and armour lining melting and sticking to her skin. Then it grew from those two points, up into head and down through her torso and to her toes. She could smell the Kevlar being seared from an intense heat burning through her veins. And then it happened.

She screamed as fire poured from her outstretched fingers incinerating the thugs within thirty feet in a firestorm of raw power and energy. She could feel the armoured suit burning, melting off her skin and falling apart. She screamed until her throat was dry and raspy and she could not bear any more. She passed out.

~o~

Robin was inwardly terrified. He and Batgirl used the firestorm as a distraction to overwhelm the sniper nests and start taking the thugs out.

“What the hell is happening down there?!?”

He wasn’t sure what to say to Batgirl so he remained silent and just looked as Batman approached the unconscious woman and gently shift her to check for injuries. Her outfit was just shreds and charred fragments falling off her body exposing bare skin and a new tattoo on her bicep. To Robins shock Batman wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings but was more focused on examining Mia.

“I don’t know. But I do know we should mop up any other possible intruders and secure the gems. Batman has other things on his mind.”

Batgirl bit back snide words on the tip of her tongue. “Right.”

~o~

Batman warily knelt as close as he could to Mia. The Kevlar, steel, and rubber armour had disintegrated under the unnatural fire. Yet it had done almost no damage to her skin. No visible damage at least. There were odd markings on her arms and back. Carefully he reached out to roll her but stopped when the action caused the last fragment of the side-seams to fall apart. If he rolled her over he would see more than he had any right to.

His fingers reached up to detach the cape when his danger sense flared. Instinct screamed to dodge but he couldn’t. If he did Mia would be completely exposed. He turned as fast as he could and leaned away just in time to avoid having the back of his neck and spine damaged by an over-sized knife. Unfortunately it was not far enough to completely avoid the tip that opened a long shallow wound along the underside of his jaw line, just where the cowl ended. Clinically he wondered if it was time he redesigned the suit for a full face mask.

“Get the broad!”

Grimly he fought intercepting attacks on her. He prayed none of them got a good look at her. He hoped she would wake up able to use her Obliviate spell to wipe their memories of what they had seen. No one could know of what happened. Not yet. He intercepted thrown knives and bullets. Mia was completely vulnerable with her armour destroyed.

“Leave Him!” A hoarse furious beautiful voice whispered with unnatural weight.

The thugs looked behind him and froze.

Batman turned and managed to catch a glimpse of what had terrified them so.

Mia was on her hands and knees practically nude but for the veil of pale gold energy motes obscuring the details of her body. As he watched those translucent sparks gained depth, substance, and turned into matter forming a simple white linen shift made of two rectangles knotted at her shoulders and unstitched down her sides. Two thicker ribbons of gold wrapped around her torso under her breasts and back around to tie into a triangular knot above her sternum. The belt kept the two panels of material overlapping along her torso but below her hips they parted to expose a generous amount of skin and toned limbs.

More strands of energy wrapped around her arms and necks to solidify creating gold jewellery encrusted with chips of blue and red. A long gold chain with an encrusted ankh pendant resting between her breasts. Two thin bands of gold metal on each bicep framing the new tattoos on her arms. A coil of broad gold shaped like a snake with bright blue eyes around her left forearm. A gold rope circlet kept her hair in order while shorter dangling chains ending in a gem chip attached to the circlet swayed as she moved. The delicate gold strands were short about her forehead before they became longer over her ears and around the back of her head.

Her eyes were pools of white fire; her voice was deeper now, more masculine. “Unworthy. If you stood before Anubis for Judgment your Hearts would be consumed by Ammut. But the Western Lord is not here and you are not Dead. Yet.”

She flung out her hands. Strands of gold emerged from each fingertip. The thugs turned to flee but failed. Each strand found a target, even ones Batman had not been aware of, ones hidden and watching from a distance.

Batman tensed. Who was this spirit?

The spirit smirked. “Do not concern yourself Warrior. They are not dead. A fraction of their Ba and memories has been claimed as payment for their sins. In the future they will be less willing to step onto less righteous paths.”

“Who are you?”

The one in Hermione Grangers body raised a brow and held out a hand palm facing up. An ebony staff with an angled head/handle and a U crescent attached to the other end appeared. With a twist of the wrist the crescent end pointed towards the ground but didn’t touch it. “Once they called me Lord of Ma’at.”

Batman paled as his mind worked. “Thoth. God of knowledge, secrets, writing. Creator of magic, and Messenger, Scribe, Record Keeper and Mediator for the Egyptian Pantheon.”

Thoth in Hermione Granger bowed slightly from the waist. “Your reputation is apparently in line with reality Warrior.”

Batman stiffened his spine. “Where is Hermione?”

“She is resting for now. Her body could not handle the strain.”

Batman paled. Leslie had said she was healed. What had gone wrong? What—

“It is insanity for a Bound Mage to cast Ritual magic involving nodes.” Batman stiffened. “I can see why she agreed but the strain of channelling such powers was overloading the Binding and destroying her Ka.” Thoth shook his head. “It was killing her. But it is no longer relevant. I have removed the Binding. When she returns she will have to practice to relearn the necessary control of balancing her Necroscope talents with her magical core and the gifts I will be leaving behind for her.”

That did not reassure Batman one bit. “Why?” He wanted to know.

Thoth raised both brows. “Why what?”

“Why are you helping? What is your price?”

Thoth frowned slightly. “I am teacher and record keeper of mankind. I watched the mages rise to greatness in Khemet and fall to the current lows. It is time they take their place among the Nations, to lead and to serve the leaders and people as I meant them to.”

Batman was taken aback. “What do you mean?”

Thoth looked tired. “I taught mortals magic so they could defend themselves and their communities, not to band together in isolation and to raise themselves above others and refuse to aid their weaker and less able cousins. Each village is supposed to have a priest, a mage, or even a triad or coven because not all evils are so obvious. Did you know of the leylines being tainted until Hermione told you?” Batman shook his head. “If there was a trained mage, one who understood it is his responsibility and civic duty to observe and serve, the situation in this city would not have deteriorated to such an extent.” He rubbed his forehead. “If you wonder why we did not intervene directly, until very recently the Gods were not permitted to move openly. And only if invoked.”

“And Hermione invoked you?!?” Batman was incredulous.

“She asked for Anyone to remove the Binding. As a patron of magic and knowledge it falls in my domain.” Thoth pointed out smugly.

Batman absorbed the information. “And what is your price?”

The white eyes were swirling maelstroms of raw power. “This land is Mine.” He gestured around the warehouse. “It will honour me and my kin.”

Batman quickly re-evaluated the renewal plans. They could build a museum or educational center of sorts in addition to the religious hall. Perhaps eventually even buy out most of the commercial docks and rezone the land for retail use.

“And this One,” He gestured at his chest, at Hermione’s body. “Will be my Priestess.”

Batman stiffened. Priestess? Immature obscure musings withered stillborn. Was she really willing or was she forced into agreeing due to circumstance?

Thoth smirked. “Do not be so concerned Warrior. There is little ritual to be observed. The elaborate rules were more of tradition and culture than true requirement. Hermione Granger will not be restricted from pursuing her dreams. She will only be required to observe the festive days and to teach those seeking knowledge, her children and theirs to observe the Old Ways.”

“Children?” Batman was taken aback. “I thought religious leaders were supposed to devote themselves to their Gods.”

Thoth laughed. “Do not be foolish. How can a priest understand the difficulties and difficulties of parenting and the anguish of loss unless they experience it? How can one understand what is needed if one doesn’t live those circumstances?” He smirked. “How can the power and talent for magic be passed down if those most able do not pass their bloodlines into the generations to come?” He touched the snake coiled around the forearm and shook his head, making a soft musical sound as the delicate bejewelled chains of the headdress clashed against each other. “Oh no. For at least five generations she and her descendants will serve me. Nothing too onerous. Just keeping an eye on certain places and people.” Then he cocked his head and looked away into the distance. “You should act now Warrior. Others are aware their plans have gone awry. She should rest for as long as she can. Wait for a full moon before Casting again.” Then he closed his eyes.

Batman darted forward just as Hermione began to crumple. He caught her before she hit the concrete ground. He winced as the strain reopened his wounds causing fresh blood to stain his suit. Despite the ache and dull hurt he was vividly aware of her body pressed against his. Beneath the flimsy white cotton tunic she was nude with no underwear to preserve her modesty. He could very easily see the large dark rose nipples press through the thin fabric that strained over curves accented by the length of gold cloth wrapped under her breasts and knotted.

“Batman? Is Mia alright? What just happened?”

He had to be really tired if he didn’t realize Robin was just a few feet away. He turned to his young concerned ward. Batgirl did not say anything though her expression indicated she too wanted to know what had just happened.

“She should be alright. I’m taking her to the Cave.” He glanced around. “Find how many bodies are still living and tie them up.”

“What about the ones she killed?” Batgirl wanted to know.

Batman did not flinch. “Unfortunate accident. The bindings broke and she lost control because she has become accustomed to using more Force to work past them.”

Batgirl frowned. “How do you know the Bindings are broken for real?”

“I don’t. The spirit possessing her near the end told me.”

“Did the spirit have a name?” Robin inquired absently.

“Thoth.”

Both of his younger partners started.

“Thoth?” Batgirl was incredulous. “You’ve got to be joking!”

Batman glared. “I’ve been taking magic with a grain of salt. When it comes to Mia I find it is easier to accept what she says as true before discounting it.”

“But Thoth is a God!” Batgirl protested.

“Thoth might be the name of a very powerful wizard. One who decided to respond to her Call.” Batman pointed out bluntly. “Get the gems and sanitize the place. Find out what those thugs were doing in this particular warehouse before calling Gordon.”

“Where will you be?” Robin wanted to know.

Batman touched the open wound along his jaw line. “Getting this and a few other wounds stitched up and treated.”

~o~

Alfred was ready and waiting in the medical bay for incoming patients. Two trays of surgical tools (basins of water, antiseptics and antibiotics, bandages and gauze pads), a box of disposable gloves, several large and small towels, a hospital gown and a set of men’s flannel pyjamas, and a tea tray.

His head lifted when he heard the familiar roar of the Batmobile. Three minutes later the door to the medical bay opened and Master Bruce walked in carrying Miss Granger wrapped in his cape. He had removed his cowl and was bleeding sluggishly from a long gash under his jaw line where the cowl ended.

“What happened Master Bruce?”

“Everything went perfectly fine until the end. Mia was under some strain like before when the salt circle was broken but she was okay. And then we had unexpected guests.” He growled furious.

“Guests?”

Bruce carefully placed her on one of the empty cots and lifted the edges of his cape away.

“Some thugs decided to crash the party. Robin and Batgirl are going to get the reasons why they were in that particular warehouse. If I stayed I’m afraid I would have taken out my frustrations on them in a very permanent fashion.”

“And why would… Oh my! I didn’t realize she was dressed for a costume party!”

Bruce shook his head as he carefully began to remove the jewellery. “She was wearing the armoured suit. When the thugs crashed in using machine guns she started coughing blood again. Two of them managed to get two of the focus stones. I don’t know what she did but she started burning. Literally.” Blue eyes were very serious. “I saw the Kevlar and rubber melt off her. Her suit fell apart at the lightest movement.”

Alfred stared at the creamy smooth skin with a faint peach glow. “But Master Bruce, there are no trace of burns.” He studied the indigo tattoos on both biceps carefully. “And those look new.” He pointed to the tattoos.

“I know what I saw Alfred! She was on fire and in pain. It escaped her in a halo and incinerated the two making off with the focus stones just before she collapsed.”

“Where did the clothes and jewellery come from?”

“It looked like it was created from the energy haze around her. The sparks condensed and became matter.”

Alfred frowned as he examined the snake bracelet and bicep bands. “Master Bruce these are real gold as far as I can tell.”

“If it is conjured it should vanish in a few hours. But Alfred, I think these will never vanish. Ever.” He carefully removed the circlet and placed it aside. The chains clashed musically.

“Why?” Alfred began setting up an IV and saline drip. He could not see any obvious wounds that needed treatment. But since she had expended a great deal of energy it could only help to re-stabilize her electrolytes and blood sugar levels.

Bruce hesitated. “Near the end she was possessed by a spirit called Thoth. I think it was the real God. According to the myths he created magic and taught man as the patron of knowledge, secrets, writing, and scribes. He said he broke the bindings on Mia. The price was a memorial-temple on the Tricorners node and a priestess. Those tattoos on her arms are probably some kind of marker.”

“A priestess?” Alfred was definitely taken aback.

“Yes. He said Mia made a bargain with him. She would be his priestess and teach anyone interested in learning and her children. For five generations she and her descendants will serve his interests. He didn’t give too many details.”

Alfred blinked. “Her children? I didn’t know Miss Granger was in a serious relationship. Can a priestess get married?”

Bruce rubbed his face and winced as he stretched the wound. “She isn’t as far as I know. And apparently Egyptian gods are not too picky about celibacy or chastity. I got the impression he wants her to have lots of children. Probably so he can have his pick if he needs a mortal agent or a new priest.”

Alfred used medical tape to secure the tube to her forearm, so it would not snag, before turning to his oldest charge. He opened a sterilized pad and began clean up the encrusted blood and surrounding area.

“How did this happen?”

“Mia was unconscious and practically naked. I couldn’t roll out of the way and leave her open. Didn’t move fast enough to completely avoid the knife.” Bruce explained softly as he allowed Alfred to minister to him.

Alfred nodded thoughtfully. “Anywhere else?”

“A few shots managed to get through the weak points in the suit.” Bruce admitted. “A lot more bruises where I managed to intercept the others.”

“Well I suggest you come up with a good explanation for the cut on your face. In fact I would suggest filing a police report and going to the hospital to get it stitched up properly.” Alfred suggested. “You can’t hide it under clothes or make up. And you can’t completely avoid going out in public until it heals completely.”

Bruce struggled to counter Alfred’s logic and failed. “You’re right. What do you suggest? I got drunk and wandered into the manor wings holding my collection? I tried to play Sir Lancelot and cut myself up?”

“I was thinking of a failed carjacking.” Alfred countered mildly. “We stopped to help a single woman who was playing bait for a gang. You managed to get back in the car after being cut and I drove off. A generic vague description for the culprits. We couldn’t see too much due to poor lighting.”

“That works.”

Chapter Text

Hermione came to a wakeful state very slowly. Vaguely she began cataloguing her surroundings. She was definitely in the guest room she used in Wayne Manor. Someone had put her in a comfortable oversized men’s tee-shirt. She sincerely hoped it was Leslie or Alfred; if it were Bruce she would never be able to look him in the face. She tried to speak and coughed harshly. The noise was enough to draw attention.

“Miss Granger! Don’t strain yourself.”

And then Alfred was there with a dish of ice chips to wet her throat. She smiled.

“This seems to be a common occurrence Alfred.”

Alfred sniffed. “Don’t be silly Miss Granger. You didn’t ask to be knocked out.” Gently he helped her sit up and take small sips of water from a straw and cup.

Then she stiffened as memories came to the forefront. “Is Batman all right?”

Alfred stiffened and spoke slowly. “As far as I know yes. He dropped you off.”

Hermione relaxed. “That’s good. I need to get in touch with him though about setting up the next Casting.”

Alfred frowned. “Miss Granger! Your old wounds reopened and you nearly died!”

Hermione shook her head and smiled. “It is nice of you to be so concerned but I can’t stop now. There’s just one more node remaining in Gotham.”

Alfred’s expression became more ferocious. “No! You can delay as long as possible. Six weeks!”

It was now Hermione’s turn to frown. “Alfred, that doesn’t give much cushion if anything goes wrong.”

“Like it hasn’t these past two times?” Alfred pointed out bluntly. “You need to heal. And to relearn control.” Hermione blinked. Alfred pushed his point. “Batman said you lost control near the end.”

Hermione frowned faintly. “No. It was Thoth.”

Alfred shook his head. “That being said your Bindings are broken. You need to relearn control and multi-tasking. Master Bruce agrees with me. After one week bed rest you are going to focus on testing yourself and finding your limits.”

Hermione’s frown deepened. “Where is Bruce?”

Alfred’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly. “I believe Master Bruce is in San Francisco on urgent business. He should be back in four days.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “How long was I out?”

“Two days.” Alfred’s answer was blunt. “Doctor Thompkins was going to recommend hospitalization if you didn’t wake in another day.”

Hermione winced. “Where is Leslie?”

“At the clinic. Should I call her?”

“Yes please. I want to get the examination over with.”

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

“Welcome back Master Bruce.”

Bruce Wayne dropped his briefcase and handed his coat to the waiting butler.

“How is she Alfred?”

“Quite well Master Bruce. She has been doing small magics mainly kata like routines in the dojo getting her reflexes and control up to speed. For a while she thought she would need to bribe a wand crafter to get fitted until we discovered the sceptre shrinks to a more compact baton and is a more than suitable wand for major castings.”

Bruce frowned. “All that? How long has she been awake and moving? She should be resting Alfred!”

“Four days. And when has that ever stopped you?” Alfred pointed out dryly. Bruce accepted the jab without comment. “If you wish to speak to her she’s in the ballroom. She’s using the pillars there for some sort of meditation routine.”

Bruce was taken aback by that bit of information. Curious, his feet took him to the ballroom where he watched.

Standing on bare feet in the middle of the room was Hermione Granger in grey bike shorts and a tight navy blue leotard. Her hands were curled into an unfamiliar stance as she faced a pillar her eyes closed. A soft blue haze surrounded her hands and feet. Then her eyes opened as she took two quick steps forward and planted her foot on the pillar on the third. Her fourth step took the other foot off the tiled floor and placed it on the pillar at a higher point than the first foot.

Then she began walking up the pillar at a slow controlled pace standing parallel to the floor, her back to the floor front to the ceiling. When she reached the top of the pillar she crouched and leaped away from the pillar and towards the one next to it. One foot and one hand made contact and kept her from falling like a stone. She slipped down the pillar in a controlled descent using the fingertips of her hands or the toes of her feet to create a breaking effect. When she was a few feet away from the ground she allowed her feet to fall free until they were inches above the tile before she lifted her hands from the pillar and landed lightly on bare feet.

She turned and smiled at Bruce who was staring with wide blue eyes.

“Don’t scold me like Alfred. It was just a control exercise.”

Bruce blinked. “Control exercise?”

Hermione nodded enthusiastically. “Something the Old Priests used to develop control and stamina. There are different variations. Wall walking, water walking, and knife balancing. They were not allowed to craft or use staves until they had good control. I’ve been working without a wand for years now and I’m not going to be completely dependent on a crutch if I can help it.”

She padded soundlessly on bare feet, hips swaying with unconscious grace, until she stood a few feet away from him. Her lips curved in a smile as she lifted her chin to meet his eyes squarely. Then the smile faded and a frown creased her brow. Her lips mouthed a soundless ‘No’ as her eyes fell upon a particular wound running along the underside of his jaw covered with surgical tape and gauze.

Bruce could see her mind working rapidly, shifting and rearranging data and facts, generating a new pattern, filling in holes and making connections. Her eyes quickly scanned his frame, measuring and comparing to memory. Her hazel eyes widened in shock before they narrowed in fury. Her voice was cold and enraged.

“Was this a joke? A game to see how long it would take for me to see the truth? To get out of the maze you built around me?!”

Pale blue eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

Her eyes were shot with liquid gold. “You know exactly what I mean… Batman!” The word was a curse.

Bruce stiffened. He reached out. “Mia—”

Hermione jerked away and danced a few steps back. “Don’t call me that Mr. Wayne!”

Bruce did not allow the cold rage to deter him. “Mia, please, listen to me!”

She refused to listen to him. Instead she turned to Alfred. “Did you know?”

Alfred thought hard. How could he help her understand? The answer came to him. With the truth.

“Yes. I’ve known from the start. But Master Bruce did not want you to know. It would have put you at risk because you wouldn’t have been able to stay Uninvolved. Once the Nodes were purified and the Eos Trust fully formalized you were supposed to return to your normal life; as Senior Research Associate to Lucius Fox.”

Hermione stilled as she absorbed the truth of those brutally honest words.

“All right.” She turned to Bruce Wayne. “Batman was the one who approached me first. Why did you have to enter the picture? Couldn’t He have made the arrangements via cell phones, lawyers and holding companies?”

Bruce relaxed a bit. She was willing to listen. “I could have but I didn’t want to. You intrigued me. Batman could not spend hours talking with you but Bruce Wayne could.”

She cocked her head to one side. “You speak as though he were a completely different person. Or is it a split personality?”

Bruce struggled to explain. “Batman has more freedom than Bruce Wayne. He can act as he sees fit Outside the law and social norms. Bruce Wayne is not so.”

Hermione snorted. “You lie. Brucie the playboy is not so but Mr. Wayne the businessman is steel all the way through. He is even more ruthless than Batman because his decisions have more subtle and rippling effects. Like the Eos Trust.” She lifted her chin. “Batman doesn’t have the deftness to handle a plan with economic and social elements but Mr. Wayne does.” Her eyes narrowed. “Mr. Wayne is far more dangerous than Batman because most would never expect it of him.” Her eyes became moist. “And there is just Bruce, the son and father and friend, the one who worried about the people around him, the one who insisted I take time off, who listened to my theories and enjoyed punching holes in my logic, who gave me resources and teachers who I thought I would never have starting with William Hawk Eye. I didn’t expect anything from Batman because I knew he was on a mission but I trusted Bruce… I thought he was my friend.”

Both Alfred and Bruce froze at that unexpected bit of character analysis.

“Mia, please…”

She crossed her arms under her breasts, hugging her torso as she ducked away from his outstretched hand.

“No! Leave me alone! Call me when Arkham has been fully transferred over to the Eos Trust. I’ll be in my Wayne Towers suite until then. Once all the construction and renewal projects are underway I’ll look for a place of my own. Probably a unit in one of the new condos.” She turned to Alfred. “Alfred, please pack anything I’ve left behind, including my records and files and have them sent over.”

“Mia, wait until morning!”

She glared at him. “And give you enough time to think of some way to change my mind? No!”

She turned away and stalked out of the ballroom.

Bruce turned to Alfred with a helpless expression. “Alfred, what do I do?”

The aged butler sighed. “First we make sure Miss Granger is safe.”

Bruce winced. “I don’t think she’ll appreciate Batman tailing her.”

Alfred smiled faintly. “There is something called a telephone. I’ll call to verify that she has arrived safely. Then we will discuss options. Do you wish to inform Master Drake about the situation?”

Bruce shook his head. “Not yet. Hopefully she’ll cool down.”

Alfred arched a brow. “I am afraid you are mistaken Master Wayne. Discussing options involve determining how much you have to concede and grovel to get her forgiveness.”

Bruce frowned. “I didn’t hide it from just her! I hid it from everyone!”

“But most people do not have long involved associations with both Batman and Bruce Wayne, associations that involved a great deal of information sharing and trust on her part. It is only natural she expected the same from Both of you.” Alfred took a deep breath. “Just go and wait for me in the kitchen Master Bruce. Put a kettle of water to boil. I’ll be back once I’ve seen Miss Granger off.”

Bruce stirred. “Are you going to drive her?”

“No. I believe she is going to Apparate. I will call to make sure she has arrived safely before joining you.”

~o~

Twenty minutes later Alfred returned and prepared two cups of tea. After drinking half of his cup the elderly butler felt ready to force his first charge to Recognize and Accept certain facts.

“Why are you so concerned about what Miss Granger thinks about you?”

Bruce swished the cooling tea in his cup. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t want her to think badly of me.”

Alfred pinned him with a pointed glare. “Oh really? Like you are so concerned about what other people think of you?” Bruce winced. Alfred softened his stance. “You like her. You want her to like you, to respect you. You know regaining trust lost is a lot harder than getting it in the first place. Question is, do you want to get that trust back or are you willing to cut your losses?”

Bruce was silent. Alfred was forcing him to examine and question his motives and goals. What exactly did he want? Mia was trustworthy and sweet but she had a tongue as sharp as a razor blade when mad and it was nearly impossible to dissuade her once she decided on a path. Just like him. But unlike him she was soft and more emotionally open. She allowed her heart to guide her where he tried to exclusively depend on logic. And the strangest thing was he had to respect her for having that courage after all she had gone through. It would have been so easy for her to close herself off, to find a safe den and retreat from the world. But then again she had done just that but her den was an entire city she was determined to protect for its inhabitants.

He frowned as he recalled several memories, incidents where she made him really smile and laugh. The sly cutting wit and clipped accent she used whenever she wanted to make a point against her detractors. How she could insult the socialites without it sounding like one. How she nagged Alfred into allowing her to prepare at least one course of dinner at least twice a week. The tutoring and encouragement and practical advice she gave Tim whenever he came home complaining about difficult teachers, the horrendous homework load, or banality of cliques. The way she absently chewed on the back of the pen or pencil she was using before using the writing tools to secure her hair in a messy knot.

The acceptance he saw in her actions and eyes, unspoken questions but the willingness to follow his lead in public; she clearly saw the lie of his manufactured façade of his public persona but she did not press for answers and respected his boundaries. Instead she showed him other ways to relax and be Bruce: picnics in his office and the library; days playing tourist wearing casual clothes, a cap and tinted glasses charmed to have similar effect as her veils; even dancing in the cemetery near his parents’ graves, remembering and celebrating their lives and dreams. She made him hope and believe there might be an end; that perhaps one day Batman could fade into the shadows for good because there wasn’t an absolute need for him, that Gotham could find her own feet and defend herself from the corruption and lunatics.

“What kind of relationship do you want to have with Miss Granger, Master Bruce?”

“What do you mean Alfred?”

“You know exactly what I mean. Do you want a professional working relationship? Do you want her friendship?” There was a tense pause. “Or do you want something more?”

Bruce did not answer. He remembered a particular meal prepared by Alfred a few weeks ago, during Hermione’s ‘vacation’. Tim had been out on a sleepover that particular weekend, to work on a group project with some classmates, and Bruce had decided to stay in and relax before going on patrol. He had been taken aback when Alfred insisted he dress up for dinner being served in one of the smaller intimate dining rooms.

~ooO Begin Flashback ~o~

Alfred heaved an internal sigh as he watched the couple finish off the chocolate cream cheese cake. He had spent the past months watching them grow from a wary watchful stilted relationship into one that was a great deal more open than Master Bruce had with anyone who did not know of his night time activities.

Miss Granger was strong and determined and unafraid of Gotham’s darkness. She walked the shadowed streets and won enough fights to force the wolves to respect her. She had brought change that Alfred had believed he would never see before he died. Change in Gotham. Change in Master Bruce.

Alfred heaved an internal sigh as he watched the pair discuss the latest amendment proposed to ‘control crime’. He spent two hours preparing a romantic dinner and setting up the scene and the two of them end up talking shop.

~o~

Bruce smirked when he saw Alfred frown severely at him before serving coffee.

“What was that about?”

He turned to his dinner companion. She was looking very pretty with her face flushed from the wine, her hair escaping its French braid and curling around her face. Her only jewellery a pair of crystal chandelier earrings that complimented the discreet black velvet dress. Hazel brown eyes were bright and alert as she cocked her head inquiringly at him. Moist glossy lips wrapped around the spoon before she dragged it out and licked the last clinging crumbs of cheese cake on the silver utensil. Bruce shifted slightly and focused on the question.

“Alfred. He prepared oysters.”

Hermione blinked as understanding dawned in hazel eyes. But she did not blush harder. Instead she smiled. “Is Alfred trying to say something?”

His response was rueful. “He thinks you are a good influence on me.” He gestured around. “He probably set this up to get us thinking of other things.”

Hermione stiffened. “I never said—”

“Hush. This is entirely Alfred’s doing.” Bruce made a face. “He has always made it clear he wants me settled down. You are the first he has actively promoted for the position of Mrs Wayne.” He smiled lopsidedly. “I have to admit he has good taste but you don’t have to worry Hermione; I’ll never take advantage of you.”

Her spine went ram-rod straight. “Oh, am I that unattractive then?” She spoke in mild uncaring tones that screamed a danger warning to Bruce.

He immediately back-pedaled. “Not at all. It is just that I haven’t had the best luck mixing work and pleasure. The Cleansing Project is too important and time consuming to risk if things go sour. And I value our friendship too much to damage it for what could be just surface attraction.”

Gold flecks added depth to hazel eyes that studied him intently before she spoke. “If you are interested in finding out then ask me when we are done.”

Bruce stared at her torn between conflicting views. To pretend it was just drink talking or to follow up once Arkham was cleansed? Decisions, decisions. Deciding discretion was the better part of valour he murmured something non-committal and changed the topic.

~o~ End Flashback Ooo~

After Hermione had retired Alfred had scolded him soundly for being an emotional coward, for being unwilling to take chances in his private life. Bruce had suited up and gone on his usual patrols in a less than forgiving mood. Several criminals suffered from painful fractures and bruising that night, before they were tied up roughly for the GCPD.

As though he read his mind Alfred spoke.

“I asked you to seriously consider the possibility of a relationship with her but you said no. Because you had secrets that would put her in danger and you were not willing to risk it. But now she knows, and she has knocked down those arguments. She’s no shrinking violet or a damsel in distress. There’s no reason to hold back.” Alfred inhaled deeply. “I’m an old man Master Bruce and I raised you the best I could but I feel I have failed you in some way, because you feel the need to keep this reserve with everyone.

“No man is an island entire of itself. You’ve had difficulty forming relationships with others but your relationship with Miss Granger; it’s almost magical isn’t it? The ease with which the two of you have adapted to each other? Five years ago the thought of your parents would make you grieve and mourn. But she has healed that wound, oh the hurt and scars are still there but you are moving past it. She has shown you how to remember and celebrate and honour them by Living.

“She helped Bruce Wayne find his center. She might be able to help Batman in a similar fashion.” Alfred’s expression was earnest. “I worry each night Batman goes out. I wonder if he has enough reason to keep fighting, to return back safe and sound, if one difficult night he will falter and feel otherwise during a critical moment. Miss Granger is not the sort to let anyone she cares fall without throwing herself into the fray. When you need her she will be there to drag you kicking and screaming back to safety. You need that Master Bruce, someone who is not afraid of standing up to you and pointing out logic breaks. You need her; as a lover or a friend, that is a question only you can answer. I strongly suggest you determine that answer before going to her.”

Chapter Text

Hermione stiffened as a soft gust of wind blew through the living room. She turned to the balcony doors that she Knew she had locked. They were open and ajar, curtains billowing. Standing inside was Batman.

She frowned and turned away. She did not want to look at him. Her logical mind and sense of fair play made it hard enough to stay angry with him. She took a sip of her orange-pomegranate juice before redirecting her attention to the grant application she was editing. It was tempting to get Him to pay for everything but in the long run it would be better if all segments of society were involved, to share in the benefits and praise.

“How long are you going to hold your grudge?” His voice was low and harsh.

“As long as you continue to pretend and lie to me.”

He made an explosive sound. “I’m not lying! I just didn’t reveal the whole truth.”

“Lying by omission is lying all the same.”

“What do you want from me?”

She came to a decision and closed the folder and removed her reading glasses, tossing them on top of the pile of paper and folders on her dining table. She rose to her feet and stalked towards him until she was close enough to jab a finger into his armoured chest.

“I want the truth. If you are hiding something Say it! If you give me a good enough reason I won’t even go digging for it!”

He became very still. “I can’t do that. There are too many—”

“People who want you dead? Who are willing to hurt those connected to you? Well guess what buddy… I’ve been in the same damn boat! And it doesn’t help one bloody bit to keep pushing people away because in the end your allies are all you can count on.” Her breath caught. “And if you haven’t chosen true, if they break and disavow ties… Then it is time to regret. And make plans for vengeance and justice.”

He stared at her hard before coming to a decision. He reached up and stripped off his cowl before speaking in Batman’s low harsh voice.

“I trust very few and most of them ended up dying or betraying me.”

Her eyes were steady and calm. “I am not them. I am nothing you have ever known. Judge me on my own merits, and your own observations.”

He pulled out one of the dining table chairs and reversed it to sit straddling it, his forearms resting on the top of the backrest.

“What do you want to know?”

She smiled faintly. “I want to know a lot of things but I’ll settle for a bit of history.” She frowned as something else came to the front. “Ra’s al Ghul?”

“My old mentor. We ended parting ways over a conflict of philosophy. His League of Shadows is prepared to kill thousands to save hundreds of thousands. Ra’s is willing to do just that in Gotham to end the corruption.”

“Is he a wizard?”

“I don’t know. Why do you ask?”

She chewed on her lower lip. “I think he has a Philosopher’s Stone. It can be used for many things, including creating the Elixir of Life, a potion that extends the lifespan of the drinker indefinitely. I ‘Saw’ him in many different times and lands.”

Bruce rubbed his jaw and sighed. “He uses something called a Lazarus Pit to rejuvenate his body. I believe it disrupts his brain chemistry because whenever he emerges he is a great deal more insane and correspondingly stronger.”

Hermione nodded briskly. “Once the Casting is done I’ll do some research into Lazarus Pits and the League of Shadows. There might be magical elements you are not aware of.”

His eyes widened. “You want to help?”

She frowned and sniffed. “Alfred was right. I am not the sort to ignore reality and believe in illusions. If I like the illusion I will make It reality.”

Bruce considered her thoughtfully. “All right. If you want to help you can work with Lucius in Special Projects.” Seeing her questioning look he expanded. “Lucius designs and manufactures a lot of my gear. Now that you know you can have more access to whatever he is currently working on for me.” He inhaled deeply. “You can continue to work on any magical aspects on a separate private budget. If you prefer we can communicate mainly through Alfred or Tim. Tim Drake is—”

“Robin and Richard Grayson is Nightwing.” Hermione interrupted with a thoughtful expression. “And Batgirl…?” Her eyes narrowed. “Barbara Gordon!” Then they widened with sudden understanding. “Is that why you… and her…” She trailed off.

He gave a sharp nod. “Yes.” He gestured at his chest, where the bat silhouette was etched on his suit. “It is hard for most women to understand my dual identities.”

“But you thought she would. Because she does it.” Hermione surmised. Then she smiled. “You are mistaken Bruce. Underneath the mask she remains the same, Barbara Gordon. She fights for an ideal.” Her eyes narrowed. “But you don’t. Not for an ideal; not entirely.” Her eyes shimmered as she focused on his face. “You fight because you are angry and driven. You fight to control your world. To know all that you can so you can control and manipulate the system and those around you. To deal out your own form of justice. To make others pay. To protect those within your influence.”

His eyes widened then narrowed. How had she…? How could she know…?

She reached out and touched his cheek with a wistful smile. “Harry was like you. Once. After losing so many he focused completely on the mission, to fight and win. But when the war was over he didn’t like what he had become so he turned his back on it all and lost his way. He forgot a basic principle of life: Si vis pacem, para bellum.”

“If you want peace prepare for war.” Bruce translated in softer but still gravely tones.

Hermione nodded gravely. “I cannot forget that. Not after all that has happened to me. You have done everything you can to protect and shield me but there’s always that small chance…” She shrugged. “I prefer to anticipate all possibilities.”

Bruce inclined his head. “As you wish. Do you wish to have a private home base? Any particular preference?”

She leaned back in her chair and nodded. “Several safe houses close to the nodes. If things go nasty I can draw on them for high level warding and heavy hitting rituals; and one primary one, perhaps Tricorner since it’s close to Downtown and Wayne Tower.”

He opened his mouth then hesitated before continuing. “And what about us?”

Hermione became very still. “What about us? As far as I can see there isn’t an Us. You needed a special service and I provided it.” She pointed out.

Blue eyes turned chilly. “Do not do that Mia.”

“Do what?”

“Disregard all that we’ve shared.”

Her eyes were troubled and distant. “You needed a special Service and I provided it.” She repeated softly.

“If that were the case Bruce Wayne would not have given you so much leeway. You spend more time in Wayne Manor than your suite. When you call Alfred knows to pass the call without delay. Most others have to leave a message and wait for hours for me to get back to them.” He inhaled deeply. “I enjoy your company and I’d like to start over.”

She shook her head and looked away. Her fingers absently rearranged the folders into neat piles while she avoided his eyes.

His harsh voice softened. “Please. It’s hard to find people who can handle the truth of what I’ve chosen to do and accept the need to keep the secret and silence. You’ve done it yourself. You’ve fought your own war. You’ve made difficult decisions that affected others and you’ve lived with the consequences.”

Slowly she turned to face him and stared at him with unnerving focus for several long tense seconds before she came to a decision.

“Okay. We can start over as friends but I have a few ground rules. Rule one: don’t lie to me; if you don’t want to tell me say so outright. However as a friend I reserve the right to nag, pry, dig, and irritate you into talking to me. I’m sure you’re familiar with Alfred doing it. Be prepared for us double teaming you.

“Rule two: don’t pretend everything is fine; if you have problems I want to know. Whenever Harry had problems he would never share them with us; the issues would stew and ferment until it blew up badly in all our faces. If it will make you feel better I’ll make a magical vow to Not share whatever you choose to tell me. I know you speak to Alfred but he would never betray your confidence so I would like you to talk to me. If you are having problems, or feel angry or frustrated I want to know so I can take steps before they boil over.” She smiled wryly. “Gryffindors are not the most sensitive and thoughtful souls. They tend to act and speak without thinking. I’m used to soothing ruffled feathers. If I know they are ruffled. I’m not psychic with living beings unless you want me to practice Legilimency on you. It is a learned magical Mind Arts akin to telepathy.

“Rule three: don’t limit information on the Need to Know principle.” Her eyes were sharp. “If you ask me to do something for you I need to know Everything. If you are holding back tell me you are holding back because if I find out by myself I will Not be very happy. And trust me Bruce you don’t want to get me mad.”

Bruce winced remembering the rumours in Old Gotham. How she had Created her place in the hierarchy, earned the respect and trust of many gang leaders. The Veiled Lady was far more ruthless and calculating than Batman in the way she handled her opponents. She did not just beat them bloody; she used the fear of failure and appearing weak as weapons. And her lessons tended to be very permanent.

“Trust me Mia, I’ve seen what you do with minor nuisances. I think I have a pretty good idea what you’d do to threats and those you feel are not worth a second chance.”

She nodded. “Rule four: you Never sacrifice an innocent for Greater Good.” He stiffened, affronted. “Promise me Bruce. Anyone who follows you must do so with open eyes after a full disclosure. If a sacrifice is needed, you Must Ask for consent.”

Bruce inhaled deeply. “Mia, I would never do what Albus Dumbledore did.” He gestured at his suit. “I wear this and go out every night because I see the need. I could easily hire mercenaries and throw money at the problem but I cannot, Will Not, ask others to do what I myself am not doing. If anyone’s life is going to be on the line it will be mine. Because I know what I’m getting into, because I’ve trained and prepared myself for it out of my own free will.”

She blinked back the tears filling her eyes. “I’ve seen that. I just need to tell you. I know the world needs heroes and sometimes heroes must make difficult choices but it is a slippery slope.”

Bruce brushed the spilling tears away. “When I trained in Japan I met a very wise man. He asked me what I would do if I saw two nestlings falling out of a nest. Both are too young to fly, one is rather sickly, the other is strong and healthy. I cannot save them both. Which do I save?”

Hermione did not have to think long. “The sickly one. It needs you more. The stronger one has a greater chance of survival without you intervening.” He cupped her cheeks with gloved hands and tilted her face up. His expression was remote, almost mask-like. Hermione wondered what she had done wrong then her resolve hardened. She had done and said nothing wrong. “That is what I would do. Those who cannot act need those who can to do so for them.”

Then his mouth curved in a small smile. “You are the first woman to choose the sickly nestling. Most choose the healthy one because it has a longer life expectancy.”

“What did Miss Gordon choose?”

“The sickly one. But only after months of training and lessons in philosophy and ethics.”

Hermione sagged slightly in relief. “Good. So friends then?”

He did not respond but tightened his grip on her face. She squirmed and brought her hands up to remove his but failed when his muscles and tendons tightened to maintain his stance. After a few seconds she gave up and allowed her fingers to curl around his thick wrists. If it wasn’t for the heavy gloves she would have dug her nails into his wrists to make him release her. His eyes were luminous and penetrating as they studied her. She shifted feelingly slightly uneasy and vulnerable. Suddenly she realized the only thing she had on were a pair of panties and an oversized men’s tee-shirt. She was acutely aware of the hard tips of her nipples pressing against the cotton knit fabric.

“Bruce? Could you please let go?”

He stared down at her and spoke. “No.” He growled softly.

Hermione frowned. “Might I ask why?” She inquired in acidic tones.

“Remember rule one?”

“No lies. If you’re hiding something be up front about it. What about rule one?”

“I’m hiding something.” He took a deep breath. “I think I would have continued to hide it if you didn’t make your views on being open very clear.”

He lowered his face and brushed his lips against hers.

Hermione stilled for a brief instant before her lips parted and she leaned forward on tip toe to get closer to him. First hesitantly, then more eagerly she responded to his lead. Her hands lifted to his shoulders to get a better balance. His gloved hands shifted so one was cupping the back of her neck and the other rested at the small of her back.

His kiss was not sloppy and awkward like Ron’s. He was patient and willing to wait for her to react and follow. There was urgency from within her but no pressure from outside. Just intriguing hints that seduced her into chasing him. Her breasts ached, the tips were hard and sensitive pressed against his armoured suit. She could feel the slick wetness between her thighs, the burn in her veins, and his hard planes against her softer curves.

When they finally parted both were breathing hard, cheeks flushed, and lips red and swollen. He inhaled deeply before speaking.

“I would be lying if I say I want to be just friends.”

Her eyes were dilated, a thin ring of gold surrounding wide black pupils.

“What do you want from me?”

His response was quick and complete. “Everything. And a chance. A chance to try and see if there could be an Us.”

She blinked back tears. “Me? But surely—”

“No. Don’t think about the reasons against us. You said it yourself, if you like an illusion you’ll do whatever it takes to make It reality. The time we spent together, it made me feel like I wasn’t so alone, that someone understood and supported me.” His voice was low and urgent. “I liked that feeling. For so long I thought I would never feel comfortable enough to just Talk and laugh, to enjoy life, to remember my parents and smile. It may have started off been based on deception and illusions but I want to make it my reality. I don’t care what the public, press, shareholders, politicians or social cliques may think. I want Us.”

She hesitated. “I need to think about this Bruce.” Seeing his hard expression she hurried to continue. “You just dropped this on my lap without any warning! I thought you weren’t interested in me. You never indicated otherwise after that dinner Alfred set-up. I thought I was just a female version of Alfred or Lucius in your eyes!”

He considered her argument and relaxed his grip and lifted his hands away.

“All right. How long do you need?”

She considered the situation and spoke slowly. “Give me time and space Bruce. You’ll have my answer the night Arkham is cleansed.”

He stiffened. “That’s weeks away!” He protested.

She stiffened her spine and narrowed her eyes. “You’re asking me to take a major leap here! To start a relationship with someone having a very complicated past, difficult contrasting personalities, and major demands on his time and his private life! I already work for you. And now you’re asking me to make a choice that will give you even more power over me!”

He ignored the reflexive primitive responses that insisted he was perfectly justified making such demands. The longer she thought about it the more chance she had to get second doubts about the situation.

“All right. I will give you the space you’re asking for. I won’t contact you unless it is to set up the Arkham cleansing.”

Before he could move away she reached up and touched his cheek. “Don’t take it personally Bruce. It is me. I have to work through my doubts and fears. I don’t want any of it to taint our time together. Even if it doesn’t last.”

He pressed one last hard kiss against her mouth. “How much do you want to bet it does?”

She chuckled. “What do you want?”

“If we are still together in two years I get to claim a favour.”

“What kind of favour?” She asked warily.

“A very personal one. Involving a long weekend and only two of us.”

Her eyes widened in brief interest as a soft flush suffused her cheeks. She struggled to keep her voice level. “That doesn’t sound like much of a prize if we’re together that long.”

He chuckled softly. “You just have to wait and wonder.”

“And what if I’m right and we break up?”

“Feel free to ask for what you want.”

She stared at him. “No restrictions?”

“No. I trust you to not abuse it.”

She nodded slowly. “I won’t.”

Chapter Text

Batman watched her kick and break the salt circle. He stiffened as the rush of power flowed over him and through the empty building. He wondered if the architects who designed Arkham knew they were building the Isolation Wing right over and around the node. Was it deliberate or something subconscious? Given what he’d read up on nodes it was no wonder the Rogues were untreatable. Every time they were locked up in their cells the node energies used their views of reality to warp the surrounding environment. A strong willed individual with a touch of ability could use the node energy to change themselves and their surroundings. The Rogues became more manic and quick to break out to go on crime sprees.

Hermione finished storing the focus stones in the special briefcase. A gesture generated golf ball sized orbs of blue hot flames that incinerated the blood and herbs used to mark out the ritual circle.

He made a mental note to ask Mia to do a bit of research on warding and limiters. It would be best if he could slip her into New Arkham Asylum to add some warding to the Isolation Wing. And to test the Rogues for magic. Untrained magic either went dormant or got channelled in unexpected forms. Idly he wondered just how many metas were newbloods who never received letters or whose parents refused to let them attend a magical school.

He watched as she raised a waist-high granite pillar from a crack she tore in the concrete foundations. Then use a glowing fingertip like a laser to etch runes and symbols into the pillar itself.

She turned and smiled. The expression relaxed his nerves. Nothing had gone wrong this time. But then again it might have been the security force Bruce Wayne hired to search, clear, and secure the perimeters of Arkham against common lowlifes.

“What is it?”

She gestured at the pillar. “There needs to be a larger structure around this point. It needs to be the core or heart of a temple.” She cocked her head. “Have you thought about what you want to build here?”

“An Oriental temple, Shaolin by preference. A retreat community to promote alternative lifestyles and natural reserves on the rest of the lands. Botanical gardens to replace the meadows destroyed when Arkham was first built.”

Hermione noted his pained expression. “Tim talked to me about the Rogues. He said Pamela Isley made the decision to become Poison Ivy when this land was cleared. She made her trademark poison lipstick using a plant only found here.”

Batman was silent. “Tim is right. She used that lipstick to poison Harvey Dent. I managed to find the antidote in time though.”

Hermione nodded slowly. “I want to ask her.”

Batman blinked. “Ask who what?”

“Poison Ivy. I want her to design the gardens for this project.” Her chin lifted in now familiar defiance. “Part of her world was destroyed when Arkham was built. I want her to get the chance to fill in that gap.”

Batman resisted the urge to groan. It would not do any good to show weakness. “She is a criminal Mia. I doubt the courts and police and public will be happy to hear your request to parole an environmental terrorist.”

Hermione just sniffed. “I want to talk to her. If she is truly a sociopath then I’ll drop my request; but if she isn’t I want Bruce Wayne on my side. Call it a rehabilitation strategy using kindness and honey.”

Batman stared at her hard. “Give me a few weeks to talk to Gordon.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

“I’d prefer an answer.”

She blinked. “Answer?”

“To my question.” Eyes protected behind white lenses bored into her. “The one I asked you a few weeks back.”

She went very still as he moved to stand behind her and placed one gloved hand on her shoulder to draw her back against his front.

His breath was hot and moist as he whispered in her ear. “I don’t want to pretend that we are just friends.” She felt his mirth. “Some describe me as a rich boy with issues. But when I’m with you I feel lighter than I have ever felt for a long time. For the first time in a long while I want more than just the end of my quest. I want an Us.”

She inhaled raggedly. “The four Rules…”

“No lies. No pretences. No holding back intel. No sacrifice of unwitting innocents.”

“And who wants this relationship?”

“All of me.”

“Even Batman?”

He hesitated for a brief second. “Even Batman.” He confirmed as he inhaled deeply. “But a relationship with him will be the most difficult.”

She turned under his hand and looked up before reaching up to touch his jaw briefly. “Tell me about Batman. I know the businessman, the playboy, the father and son, but I don’t know much about the avenger. How he came to be and what drives him.”

He frowned under his cowl before answering.

“It started when my parents died. I felt… numb, nothing could make me feel or fill the empty void. I was determined to never let anyone else feel like that. I wanted to avenge my parents because the law had failed. My parents left me and I was determined to never let anyone else leave me unless I chose.” He smiled wryly. “The easiest way to do that was to drive everyone away but Alfred refused to let me run wild so I channelled that aggression into my studies; to know as much as I could so I could anticipate and plan for contingencies, for events to move on My terms.”

Hermione was thoughtful as she moved towards a wall and leaned against it. “When did you realise the aggression was getting out of hand?”

“When I nearly killed the man who murdered my parents.” He waited for her to recoil and shy away but she didn’t. She merely met his eyes and waited. “The prosecutor agreed to a plea bargain, evidence against a mob-boss for leniency. I took a gun to the court house with every intention of killing him.”

“But you didn’t go through with it.” Hermione murmured.

“No. But I would have if others hadn’t intervened. After that I realized I had to get control. I needed to do Something. I couldn’t depend on someone always being there to stop me from crossing the line.”

“So you left.”

“I left and travelled and trained and studied. I met Ra’s during my travels. He was my mentor and teacher for a while until I found out just how the League of Shadows worked to reach their goals. I escaped after setting the base on fire. When I returned to Gotham I had a clear idea of what I wanted to do. To become a symbol for Gotham, something criminals feared and ran from, someone who would act where the regular channels failed. I made a few rules for myself that have changed over the years but the core remained the same. Never use guns. Never kill.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “And why did you take on apprentices?”

He gave her a flat stare. “I had to. They were determined to follow me around and get into trouble. If I trained them I had some control over what they did. If they weren’t up to standard I had leverage to ground them until their skills came up to par.”

She smiled. “Control. And does Bruce Wayne have the same mind set as Batman? And I mean the businessman and philanthropist.”

He frowned. “The businessman is a mask. He is polite and gregarious.”

“And were you pretending with me?” She inquired archly. “You were polite and witty. You seemed genuinely interested in talking with me and you didn’t make much of a fuss when I dragged you down to common earth.”

He was taken aback. “That is different. You are… genuine.” He struggled to find the words. “I’ve seen so many different aspects of you. The reserved meticulous researcher and Wayne Enterprises employee. The compassionate healer and counsellor in Old Gotham. The determined uncompromising social visionary in Gothams High Society. The unrelenting fighter in the alleys and back streets. The scholar and intellectual. The mage artisan. I don’t know how you keep all of them straight. I have enough difficulty with the playboy, the businessman, and Batman.”

Hermione laughed softly. “You forget, they are all aspects of You. Tell me about Batman. What does he feel?”

Batman thought for a moment before speaking. “He is always enraged, always angry but at the same time cold and in control, determined to hunt down the guilty and protect those who cannot defend themselves, determined to stop those who would cause harm.” There was a slight pause before he continued. “He needs to go out. He cannot stop.”

“He needs to hunt down his prey.” Hermione surmised.

Batman stiffened. “I’m not an animal.”

“All humans are animals. Some are just closer to their primal nature than others.” Her eyes were steady and clear. “You need to control your surroundings, to remove interlopers and rogues from your territory. You do that as Batman by exclusively focusing on criminals. The trick to balance is to do that as Bruce Wayne as well. As you are.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Bruce Wayne is keeping wizards out of his territory by buying claims, controlling the nodes. Batman started it but the project was carried out mainly under the businessman’s aspect.” Hermione pointed out.

He was taken aback. “I didn’t realize.” He murmured.

“Let Batman take on traits from your other aspects. The philanthropist, the businessman, the playboy.”

“How?”

“The businessman is very familiar with the concept of strategic alliances and partnerships. Find others who you can work with and set one up.”

Batman was faintly uneasy. “I have worked with Superman in Metropolis.”

“If many like-minded souls decide to work together they will need technical resources and financial backing. A central repository of data and trusted people to control it. Some place out of reach of most Rogues and criminal elements including certain government agencies.” She paused to allow the suggestion to sink in. “If they work from a place of your choosing you have access to more data, their cases and personal histories, more leverage and control.”

His eyes widened as he realized where she was going. He did not say anything but he paid even closer attention to what she said next.

“Batman has to accept traits from the father and son. To accept that he cannot control his offspring once they reach a certain age. It is the nature of all children to rebel; especially sons, as they try to find their own path. They will not want to remain in your shadow forever. You raised them to be strong confident so of course they will want to be just that. You ran off and left Alfred behind to worry about you; and when you returned he was here waiting for you.”

He smiled wryly. “And what you’re saying is what goes around comes around.”

“In spades.” She affirmed cheerfully. “Now it’s your turn.”

He smirked and moved until he was a foot in front of her, hands placed on the wall on both sides of her shoulders effectively caging her. “And what does Batman need from the playboy?”

Hermione glared at him. “Lessons on charm.” She snapped out sharply as she ducked under his arm and twisted away. “You are way too aggressive and uncompromising. You don’t know how to accept a negative response or losing.”

He stared at her, nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply. Then he smiled slowly. It was a Bruce the Playboy smile.

Hermione cursed the hormones causing the fluttering sensation in her belly. Quickly she spoke, hoping to keep some semblance of control. If she gave in too quickly, if he caught her too soon, he would never see her as strong enough to match him. She had to draw out courtship into a long hard chase to keep his attention. Hopefully by the end of it she’d have a better idea about what she wanted from him.

His eyes fell on her mouth. The soft lush curves, the deep indent in the middle of her upper lip. It was surprisingly sensual for an intellectual soul. He bent to taste them. Coffee and sweet-sharp spices. She stiffened for a brief second before melting against him, lifting her hands to his shoulders, to anchor herself against him. She was soft, warm, pliant and welcoming with a hint of bite, demand and challenge. She would not shy from violence, ugliness, despair, rage, and anger. She would not allow him to get his own way every time. She would force him to stop and listen and compromise. His perfect match.

He smiled internally as he lifted his mouth from hers. Her eyes were dilated and breathing harsh as she struggled to regain control of herself. He felt smug as he spoke in low harsh tones in one ear. He felt her shiver, her skin heat, her pulse race.

“Your answer. Will you give me a chance? Give Us a chance?”

He could see small gold sparks in the hazel irises as she met his eyes. Her hand lifted and one finger traced the outline of his lips. He resisted the urge to nip and taste the digit, her skin, her flesh, her moisture. His eyes heated as his thoughts wandered onto more sensual and intimate avenues.

“Yes.” But her eyes were reserved with a hint of challenge. “But just because we are friends doesn’t mean I’m going to make it easy for you. Any of you.”

He smirked wolfishly. “Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to. In fact I am quite looking forward to moving our relationship along.”

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Wayne Romance in the Works? By Summer Gleeson.

These past few months many of us have been wondering exactly what kind of relationship Gotham’s playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne has with Wayne Enterprises employee Hermione Granger. She is a Senior Research Associate for Corporate Archives who is currently working on a Special Project for Bruce Wayne. Lucius Fox has refused to disclose any details on the nature of the project other than it being highly sensitive and delicate enough to be moved out of Wayne Towers into the more controlled grounds of Wayne Manor.

The long hours and weeks working in close quarters definitely broke down the usual employer-employee barriers between the pair. Sources say Miss Granger was very formal with Bruce Wayne in the beginning; in fact she became friends with the Wayne family butler Alfred Pennyworth and Bruce Wayne’s youngest ward Tim Drake long before she softened to the billionaire. Not sure if it is the long hours or constant exposure but the British expatriate has definitely changed her views on her employer.

The pair has been seen going out in high society attending fundraisers, premiere nights, gallery openings; and for less formal events like picnics and amusement parks. For months both Bruce Wayne and Hermione Granger have always insisted they were just friends but clearly something has changed in recent weeks.

The couple attended the Wayne Corporate Christmas Party together and many noted they looked more than friendly. ‘His arm was around her waist the whole night. Whenever someone else asked her to dance he almost growled’ one anonymous source claims. ‘I think he manoeuvred her under the mistletoe at least five times in two hours. And those kisses were definitely not friendly pecks’ another informed me.

They left the corporate party early to drop off gifts and drink a few glasses of Stella Vandermeer’s famous Punch at her Christmas Gala. When I spoke to the society maven she had nothing but good things to say about Miss Granger.

‘Mia is a wonderful girl, very mature for her age and Confident! Whether they stay as just friends or become more serious I believe she will always remain a close friend; the type who sticks by you through good times and bad. She tells you like it is with no apologies. And her energy! Goodness, her brain is constantly working and plotting and planning. She spear-headed the renovation and reopening of Kane Community Centre in Old Gotham. She liaises with several of the local neighbourhood associations to pass their suggestions and concerns to various charity boards and the City Council. And she persuaded Bruce to subsidize and expand the homework club program that operates from the local libraries and recreation centers. I believe she is a teaching volunteer at several locations in Old Gotham. Several regular users have already been marked as potential scholarship candidates for GCU in the years ahead. Bruce has also informed me she has final say for a few of the Wayne revitalization projects in Gotham. I cannot tell you the details but they will be holding quite a few press conferences in the coming months.’

It was a little surprising, to hear so much positive words about a newcomer to Gotham, one travelling the highest strata of Gotham society by virtue of her connection to a playboy infamous for his short high-turnover relationships. Stella Vandermeer only smiled when I pointed that out.

‘Mia is not like the others. She is solid and stable, something Bruce has sorely lacked in his personal life. Have you seen him with her? He hasn’t said anything to me but I have eyes and I can See he is drawn to her, how a wild animal is drawn to and fearful of fire. The way he hovers over her reminds me of his father; Thomas used to hover around Mattie when they first started going out. It was like he wasn’t quite sure if he wanted to show her off to the world or hide her in a safe place only he had access to. After they got engaged he didn’t hover as obviously. Not that Mattie would let him get away with any caveman-like behaviour. Now that I think about it Mia does remind me a little bit of Mattie Wayne; both are very determined women with powerful loyalties to friends and a strong sense of social responsibility.’

There you have it people. Mrs Vandermeer is famous, or infamous, for her accuracy in predicting the outcome of high profile personal relationships. Ever since Bruce Wayne returned from his foreign travels and set off on his hedonistic lifestyle Stella Vandermeer has reserved from commenting on the various beauties he has been linked to. Even the more highly favoured ones like Talia Head and Selina Kyle did not get positive supportive comments from her. But British expat Hermione ‘Mia’ Granger has her seal of approval.

The couple declined to comment on their relationship though this time they did not insist ‘we are just friends’. Is Mrs Vandermeer correct in believing romance is in the air? Only time will tell.