Cabotage: n. – coastal navigation; the exclusive right of a country to control the air traffic within its borders
NOT: v. – to sabotage with cabbage and/or Vermont Cabot Cheese.

Chapter one: Collision

Spencer Reid was running exactly two minutes and thirteen seconds behind schedule. As he jogged down the steps of his apartment complex, trying to catch up, he reprimanded himself for forgetting he needed to change the batteries in his alarm clock. He wasn't usually so out of it, but this last case had reminded him too much of his own abduction. His mind had been, for lack of a better word, fuzzy, since they received the case- causing Hotch to ask him five times, and almost a sixth, whether or not it was going to be too much to handle.

He had come straight home after they landed, taken a hasty shower, and flopped in his bed to rest for twelve coma-like hours. The days in between were spent reading a new book he had found on philosophers of the Renaissance. When he woke up this morning, he couldn't believe he let himself sleep in almost ten minutes, nine minutes and forty-seven seconds to be exact. Spencer had frozen in the shower, not waiting for the water to heat up, scalded himself on the breakfast burrito he didn't wait to cool down, and stubbed his toe looking for his shoes. He hoped this wasn't to be a preface to the kind of day it would be. Spencer glanced at his watch again. One minute, seventeen seconds.

He avoided his usual route, a nice wakening stroll through the park, and instead turned down a street he knew was there and faster than the stroll. Spencer slowed his pace to that of his regular stride, his detour putting him ahead of schedule, and had just caught a whiff of Earl Grey and lilacs when he felt a collide and hot beverage exploding over his chest.

"Oh my Merlin, are you alright?" A crisp voice asked, undeniably British.

Spencer was about to be truthful, as he had the logical tendency to do, when he looked up into intelligent caramel eyes. "I'm okay," he found himself saying. "Besides, it's been estimated that there are about 12,49o coffee spills a day. I was bound to be one at some point."

The girl tilted her head to the side. "Yes, but I happen to be drinking Earl Grey tea. The composition is too far off as it is more likely to spill tea in its thinness than the thicker option of coffee." He stared, not sure of what to say. She blushed and fidgeted. "I'm sorry, here I am correcting you and I've just ruined your clothes. I do apologize."

Spencer finally found his tongue. "No, I was the one not paying attention to where I was going. It isn't your fault."

"No, I was off thinking about the day and didn't even notice."

"As was I." She blushed, and he found it- dare he say it- cute. She laughed softly.

She seemed to be very meticulous, her yellow dress very carefully smoothed and ironed, her gold necklace with a twisted metal pendant was laid perfectly, her brown hair just so in a twisted up do. She carried a red tote, indicating a well-organized mind, and wore low wedges. He noticed her stance as open, but prepared in case the need to fight arose, and he furrowed his brow.

"I'm Hermione," she introduced herself with a firm, but not intimidating, handshake.

"There's some ill planet reigns: I must be patient till the heavens look with an aspect more favourable." He quoted.

"Good my lords, I am not prone to weeping, as our sex commonly are — the want of which vain dew perchance shall dry your pities — but I have that honourable grief lodg'd here, which burns worse than tears drown," she returned. Then with a smile, she asked, "How did you know I wasn't named for the daughter of Helen and Menelaus?"

He gestured to her neck. "Your necklace quotes Shakespeare, even if it is Hamlet and not A Winter's Tale. I'm Spencer Reid."

She beamed and he felt rather proud of himself for having made her done so. There was a shrill beeping from his phone and he dug it out of his pocket, already knowing who it was. Sure enough, there was a message from Hotch asking where he was. He looked up at Hermione, and thought how wonderfully the name seemed to suit her and she shrugged her shoulders sheepishly.

"I really am sorry I ruined your clothes. Isn't there anything I can do?" She asked, and he found her voice pleasant, smooth, and commanding.

You can let me buy you a new beverage, he thought to himself, unsure of where the thought came from, but before he could think better of it, it was out of his mouth. He cringed at himself, but Hermione smiled and agreed bashfully. She had a ring on her left forefinger she fiddled with as they walked back inside the coffee shop "Cutter's Point". It looked like something handed down, an heirloom perhaps of gold and rubies with a name scrawled that he couldn't make out. She kept an eye on her peripherals carefully and almost unnoticeably. That was when he noticed she carried herself like a soldier, her back straight, her chin up, her overall position flexible.

"A large Earl Grey tea and a large of your drip coffee, please," he told the boy at the counter. When their drinks came, she handed him a warmer and he watched her pour a generous amount of milk into the cup and twist it around to stir in a cyclone of sorts.

"Twenty-four percent of coffee drinkers say they drink coffee black," she said as they stepped back out into the fresh spring morning.

"And over 25% of milk consumed in UK is taken with tea," Spencer retorted, wondering what he had done with himself today. They were almost- flirting.

"Well," he said reluctantly, "I have to get to work."

For the first time since their accident, they both looked down at their watches. She cursed, another adorable thing, he thought. "Oh, I am so late," she groaned. Then, "It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Reid."

"Spencer."

"Spencer."

*

Spencer forgot about the warm coffee in hand, still running his mind over the mysterious girl, until he finally walked in to the office and it was swept away from him in a blur by Morgan. The tall, dark-skinned man guzzled the now lukewarm caffeine and Spencer looked over to JJ with a silent question.

"The coffee machine is broken again," she explained with a huffed laugh.

Morgan handed him back the empty cup and a slip of paper fell from between the cup and its warmer. Morgan picked it up and turned it over to read, before laughing in mirth.

"Pretty Boy's got some digits."

"Don't be absurd."

JJ and Emily moved around to see the paper over Morgan's shoulder. "Who's Hermione Granger?" She asked.

Spencer's head snapped up from his messenger bag. "What?"

Morgan handed him the piece. It read in gold ink, 'Hermione Granger xxx-xxx-xxxx'. Spencer gave a rare smile as Dave and Hotch walked in.

"What's going on here?" Hotch asked curiously and slightly suspicious.

Morgan grinned mischievously. "Reid here's got a girl."

*

Hermione woke up with a deep yawn, rolling over to bury her face in her pillow and inhaling deeply in contentment. The past year had been the happiest she could remember being. After the war, she had decided she was tired of fighting, tired of conflict, and turned down the offer to work at the Ministry- must to most people's surprise. She wanted to do something simple, something quiet and peaceful. She wanted to teach Muggle primary school.

Hermione had tried to convince her boyfriend at the time that she didn't want to just be a house wife, but Ron had persisted anyway; proposing and giving her the choice. They continued their relationship after her rejection, but it was forced. Then she found him with Lavender Brown and decided she had made the right choice, much to the chagrin of Ron and the Weasley matron. George, his wife Luna, Ginny, and Harry had taken her side, along with several other of her friends. Molly wouldn't hear of it. So Harry and Ginny finally moved out as they had wanted. Hermione cut ties to Molly and Ron and those who accused her of leading Ronald on. It wasn't until a year ago they decided to move to America. Hermione's maternal grandmother had been from Virginia- so that's where they went. The five of them found a perfect house where they could live together comfortably and were happy away from the rebuilding and post publicity of the war.

She finally sat up, smelling bacon cooking and coffee brewing as George had formed a fondness for it. She frowned slightly. They were all early risers, a side effect from the war, but she rarely saw any of them before she went to work. She grabbed her dressing gown and went down stairs to see why the change. Apparently she was the only one not already downstairs. Hermione slid into a stool at the island bar next to Harry. Luna twirled around the kitchen even dreamier than usual as she cooked, eggs, bacon, sausages, scones. George helped marginally, stirring porridge and such, gazing lovingly at his wife. Hermione looked to Harry and Ginny, who both shrugged.

"What's the occasion," she asked finally as George pulled down plates. He blushed slightly, a red tip to his ears, and stammered.

"Occasion? Whatever do you mean, Mi?"

"I'm pregnant," Luna said with her unique smile. Then the kitchen was filled with shrieks as Ginny and Hermione hugged her tightly and Harry clapped George on the back. Hermione hugged the father to be and whispered her congratulations.

"How far along are you?" Ginny asked after making her way over to her brother.

George answered with a grin, "Just over ten weeks. We're due in September."

Hermione didn't understand how she didn't notice. Luna, sweet and tiny Luna, had more of a roundness to her face, a slightly round to her otherwise flat stomach, and she had had to hold her long blonde hair back for what she thought was just a bug at the time. Had she been so oblivious?

"We didn't want to tell anyone until we saw a Healer," Luna told them in apology. "We're planning to tell the others at Remus' birthday next week. Even Neville and Seren should be there."

"I'm so happy for you," Hermione smiled, hugging her friend again.

They discussed name ideas, bouncing them off of each other over their bounty. She had never seen the fairy-like girl glow so brightly with George about to bounce out of his seat at the prospect of being a dad.

"Are you going to tell Mum?" Ginny asked. George and Luna looked at each other, her putting her hand over her husbands.

"We are." George confirmed. "We don't want her to miss out because of old disagreements. Luna and I think she deserves at least a chance."

George Weasley and his mother had had their own arguments leading to the split. He had continued Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes in spite of his twin's death, knowing Fred would want him to, and it led to more animosity from Molly about his lack of a "real job". Harry and Ginny had decided to wait to get married, not in a huge hurry, and wanted to move into their own place. Neither decisions did Molly like, and pressured them. So, when Hermione decided she was moving to Virginia, the lot decided to come with her. Harry and Ginny found that they missed a big family under the same roof. George came and decided to open a U.S. branch for WWW, with a small store front of items able to be sold to Muggles. Luna took up her father's newspaper and started a small flower shop she could write her entries in, with Harry as her partner when he wasn't teaching evening self-defense classes. Ginny had found a deep love for the game of soccer, playing on a local team.

They still had their friends in Britain; Remus, Teddy, and Severus who all lived in Grimmauld Place, Draco- who had become a Healer- and his wife Astoria, and Neville and his fiancé Seren Lynotte. There had been a slight hesitancy from his grandmother over marrying a Muggle, but Augusta Longbottom loved Seren. A timer beeped and Hermione looked over at it.

"Well, I suppose I should be getting dressed."

"That would probably be a good idea," Harry teased her, helping himself to another sausage link. Hermione stole it from his fingers and took a bite with a triumphant smile at his indignant whine before going back to her room.

She had decided not to drive, the only one in the house that did, and stopped by her favorite coffee shop, "Cutter's Point", and ordered her tea. Hermione poured her milk, exactly three teaspoons to the ratio of tea, and found herself looking forward to seeing her kindergarten class this morning. They were going to be doing a color scavenger hunt today and she hoped they would like it.

Hermione didn't see him, which bothered her later at the thought that she had gone soft on her instincts. He was wearing a light grey jumper, the sleeves pushed up almost to his elbows, a red paisley tie, and black slacks- his brown hair tucked behind his ear. Then he was soaked in hot, no doubt sticky, tea.

"Oh my Merlin, are you alright?" His jaw clenched and relaxed when he looked up at her with a flash of something.

"I'm okay," he said, though she could tell that isn't what he was originally going to say. "Besides, it's been estimated that there are about 12,49o coffee spills a day. I was bound to be one at some point."

She was impressed, if only vaguely, of his knowledge for that statistic, and couldn't keep herself from pointing out about her tea. "I'm sorry, here I am correcting you and I've just ruined your clothes. I do apologize."

"No," the man insisted. "I was the one not paying attention to where I was going. It isn't your fault."

"No, I was off thinking about the day and didn't even notice."

"As was I." She laughed to herself, this was no use if they both kept insisting they were at fault.

His chocolate brown eyes were calculating and she could tell he was trying to figure out something about her, thinking rather hard. She supposed, this close to Quantico, he could be FBI. He seemed to have the right posture and there was a slight lump on his hip that could be a gun. She could tell he was intelligent, as he had that air of knowledge about him. She decided she liked him so far as he furrowed his brow.

"I'm Hermione," she said, extending her hand.

"There's some ill planet reigns: I must be patient till the heavens look with an aspect more favourable." He quoted, taking it with a confident grip. She turned her head slightly, taking the small challenge.

"Good my lords, I am not prone to weeping, as our sex commonly are — the want of which vain dew perchance shall dry your pities — but I have that honourable grief lodg'd here, which burns worse than tears drown," she finished. Hermione smiled. "How did you know I wasn't named for the daughter of Helen and Menelaus?"

He gestured to her necklace. "Your necklace quotes Shakespeare, even if it is Hamlet and not A Winter's Tale. I'm Spencer Reid."

She reached up to her necklace, a gift from Remus, that read This Above All To Thine Own Self Be True. She was admittedly impressed as his phone rang and he looked down, with a slight dreading, and back up to her.

"I really am sorry I ruined your clothes. Isn't there anything I can do?" She found she didn't want him to go.

"You can let me buy you a new beverage," Spencer replied almost immediately, obviously surprising himself. She smiled, feeling her cheeks heat up.

"Alright then."

He walked with purpose, but she felt like that had nothing to do with him being FBI. She guessed that he was a very precise person. It was in each step, years of knowing where he was going before he took the next one. It suited that he would drink black coffee. And it suited that he knew statistics of how she took hers. Hermione wasn't sure why she slipped her number under his warmer. She felt a click, like one of a kindred soul, and wanted to meet up with him again. She guessed him to be mid-twenties, but having taken care of himself for longer than most. She wondered if he had no family. Or family, but was estranged.

"Well," he said. "I have to get to work."

Hermione looked down at her watch and uncharacteristically cursed, seeing a small smile appear on his face at it. "Oh, I am so late," she groaned. Then, "It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Reid."

"Spencer," he said without hesitation.

"Spencer," she smiled to herself- a smile that held until she reached the school.

A/N: So, no. The name for the title actually has no relevance to the story at all. It's just an awesome word. I have huge plans for this story and I hope you all like it. Tell me what you think. I am also taking suggestions for names and genders of Luna's baby.