...

'I will not stand for it!'

'Change is necessary, Frogworth! We need to protect those who cannot protect themselves!'

'And vandalise the rights of our own people?'

'We've seen it time and time again,' interjected Hermione loudly. She sat to the right of the chairman of the meeting yet many of the elder wizards did not even turn to look at her as she spoke. 'These objects inevitably end up back in the hands of Muggles– often risks of breaking the Statute of Secrecy if not positively dangerous in themselves.'

'What about Arthur Weasley?' shouted a rather sneery assistant to Frogworth who had only just sat down beside him. 'You do realise that this will end your future father-in-law's tinkering?'

Hermione took the jibe with a genial smile. 'Arthur Weasley is not a law-breaker, Simmons,' she said quietly. 'He has no record previous business associations with the likes of Mundungus Fletcher, unlike others I could mention.' Simmons' rodent-like face flushed immediately and he set to shuffling his notes. 'Therefore,' continued Hermione. 'He will apply for a license to buy whatever Muggle appliances he desires and as he has no criminal record in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts, he will mostly likely be granted it.'

'Helps when you're head of the department,' grunted Simmons bravely.

'It was your example,' answered Hermione serenely. There was a short silence before the wizard to Hermione's left spoke: 'Are we agreeing to submit plans for a change in the law to be approved by the Minister?'

There was another explosion of opinion as Frogworth began to pound his armrest loudly and other wizards and witches began to yell at each other across the table. Hermione sighed and ran a hand over her eyes. It was going to be a long night. Ron would definitely be home by now. She wondered if he would have the sense to put the dinner in the oven. When Hermione looked down at her papers again there was a folded piece of paper resting on them.

Nice come back. I'm going to get Simmons with a Bat Bogey Hex in the canteen tomorrow. Care to join me?

Hermione smirked. She glanced quickly to her right, her eyes meeting Ernie Macmillan's for a second before resting on Simmons' pink face. She grabbed her quill and scrawled an answer.

Love to!

She tossed the note to Ernie who chuckled before pocketing it. The row continued to rage on. Sparks were now shooting out of Frogworth's wand and the chairman was on his feet, threatening to arrest all members of the committee who did not put away their wands immediately. Ernie tipped his head to the side, indicating the drinks table behind the chairman. Hermione nodded and they got up together.

'I'll hold you to that tomorrow,' said Ernie as he poured water into a cup of tea leaves. 'Bat Bogey on Simmons.'

'He's too cocky for his own good,' agreed Hermione, reaching for the cups of coffee under an insulation charm. 'He follows Frogworth around like a little dog, hoping that if he brings him one more cup of tea then he'll be made Minister for Magic... and he was late, the cheek of it.'

'Little bastard,' breathed Ernie. 'You know he's only got four Exceeds Expectations? Merlin knows how he got that job.'

'Don't be petty, Ernie,' admonished Hermione lightly. 'I wouldn't work for Frogworth for all the Galleons in Gringotts anyway.' They both watched Frogworth being subdued by many of his assistants as they tried to convince him not to attack the chairman who was beginning to restore order.

'We should probably wade in again,' sighed Ernie. There was a loud shout as one of the witches discovered an article about wizards collecting Muggle art in the proposal that had been missed by others. It appeared that she was affronted by the idea that anyone in the wizarding community would even consider Muggle works as art. The squabble began again as the chairman collapsed into his seat with his head in his hands.

'I'll join you in a minute,' said Hermione. 'I need some fresh air.' She pointed over her shoulder towards the double doors that led out onto a balcony. Discussions over new laws or amendments to old ones were better off held in buildings outside the Ministry. If the department was seen as uninfluenced by Ministerial politics and rivalries, the quicker public confidence in the law would grow.

This was difficult when the personal politics of the department itself were causing brawls, thought Hermione as she opened the stiff double doors with difficulty. She walked out onto the balcony, clutching her cup of coffee tightly in her hands. The night air was bitter but after the humidity of the room she had just left, it was delightful. She breathed deeply, leaning against the balustrade and staring up at the stars. The murmur of traffic at the end of the road and the cacophony of voices from the room behind her were merging together to form a humming that was almost comforting. Hermione's eyelids began to droop and she started every time her head fell forward. She took a sip of her coffee; she really needed to stay awake.

Then she saw lights flickering below her and the sound of hushed voices. Curious, Hermione leant over the edge of the barrier, squinting through the dark. Three figures were stalking down the road, all dressed in black – she could only see their pale faces gleaming in the darkness under hoods. They were wearing cloaks. Hermione leant over the balustrade further. The flickers of light were coming for their wands which were aloft. These mysterious night walkers were using wands without fear in a Muggle street. Hermione was finding it difficult to breath – the thought had now crept into her mind that these three people were Death Eaters. She could think of no one else who would disregard discretion in Muggle areas with such nerve – despite the fact that it was widely understood that the Death Eater movement had well and truly died out. Then she noticed something gleaming on the back of their cloaks. A silver diamond glittered on the back of each black cloak, and that was no Death Eater mark.

Hermione did not go inside. She stared down onto the street, breathing as quietly as possible – listening. The figures stopped suddenly in the middle of the road. Hermione had not noticed before, but there was a shape lying in the middle of the road. A large mass of something, Clothes perhaps? Or rubbish? The cloaks formed a small circle around the bulk and one of them crouched down, removing her hood.

The witch had white blonde hair which framed her pale face. Her lips were especially prominent – noticeably large and red. She pointed her wand at the shape and the light fell upon a body. There was a corpse lying in the middle of the road. The woman shone the light onto the face and Hermione saw it was a man. His skin was scarred – long jagged lines running across his cheek – and his mouth was slightly ajar.

'There's our man,' whispered a man. Hermione thought it was the one who stood closest to her, his back to the balcony. The blonde woman looked up at him.

'Have you noticed that he's wearing Muggle clothes?' she snapped.

'Yes – he's clever,' said the wizard slowly – contempt colouring his voice.

'I think you're over-estimating him,' retorted the blonde. 'This kind of hatred runs deep – he's not clever enough to sully himself with Muggle clothing just to get away from us.'

'It's him, I'm telling you,' insisted the man. The cloaked figure who stood at the corpse's feet had not said anything. 'And they've finally got him for betraying them.'

'I say sport,' said the woman firmly, turning to the silent silhouette. 'They've run into a Muggle and taken him out for fun - '

'They would have tortured him,' interrupted the man that faced her. 'We would have heard screaming.'

'Then he was in the way,' The blonde woman stood up so that she was face to face with her challenger. 'They knew we were behind them, he might have said something – quick spell and he's out of the way.'

'What kind of Muggle has scars like that?'

'One who's been in a fight?' I don't know but I'm sure that - '

'Death Eater. I'm sure as hell..'

'He's wearing Muggle clothes!'

'I'm not blind!'

'Either way, the victim was killed by wizards – we saw the green light – and we know that the Death Eaters wanted to get their old friend tonight ...' The third figure had finally spoken up. His voice seemed too familiar to Hermione, who still peered over the edge of the balcony, clutching cold coffee.

'The question we need answering is,' he continued. 'did they get him?' There was a moment's pause and then the wizard looked upwards, right at the balcony. 'What do you think, Hermione?'

Hermione gasped and jumped back from the rail. She heard her coffee cup smash against the pavement. She turned and dashed back through the double doors into the conference room. Her heart was bashing against her ribcage and her breath was fast. The fright of being caught eavesdropping was nothing. A tornado was raging through Hermione's head because she had just looked into the eyes of Harry Potter for the first time in three years.

...

Hermione's feet hit the ground and the sweet smell of honeysuckle hit her instantly. She pushed open the gate, her hand brushing the flowers that grew through the fence and over the latch. The small house that she shared with Ron was on the outskirts of Copythorne and suited Hermione perfectly. The Muggle village was a respectable place to meet her family in and it was nice to have a home in what she believed was the real world. She didn't like the idea of wizards isolating themselves completely from Muggles. There had to be complete co-habitation – they were all human after all.

Hermione heaved her briefcase to the front step and got out her wand to unlock the front door. She was dreading talking to Ron. She didn't know how she was going to tell him that she had seen Harry. That he was in London, in a distance easily Apparated. How could she tell him that his best friend was running after Death Eaters with two strangers? Hermione was sorely tempted not to bring it up at all. She murmured the password and the lion door knocker on which she rested her wand nodded at her before the lock clicked.

'Hello?' she called as she kicked her briefcase into the hall.

'In here!' A voice drifted out of the sitting room. Hermione strolled in, taking off her coat, to find Ron kneeling by the coffee table while placing the final Exploding Snap Card on top of a tower of them that had evidently taken some time.

'If you knock that over, I'm not tidying up,' she warned, dropping her cloak on the back of the sofa. Ron didn't answer but just exhaled in relief as he took his hand away and the tower remained standing. 'Did you put dinner on?' Hermione asked.

'I've already eaten,' said Ron guiltily, climbing up onto the sofa. 'I went to the Three Broomsticks with George – two sausage and mash for one Galleon, two Sickles.' He smiled expectantly, as if Hermione would find this offer as exciting as he did. 'Sorry,' he added when she didn't react with the expected enthusiasm.

'Don't worry about it,' Hermione sighed. 'I'll make myself something now.' She went into the kitchen where a Sheppard's pie sat on the stove, waiting to go in the oven. Half of it would go to waste now, thought Hermione.

'You hear about that body?' Ron shouted from the other room. Hermione froze with her hands in the oven. How long had it been since she led Ernie out onto the street? How many hours had it taken for Simmons to Apparate to the Ministry to report it? How on earth could Ron know? She dropped the earthenware dish into the oven with a clatter.

'What? I can't hear you?' she lied. Ron came ambling into the kitchen as she turned the dial on the oven.

'Body was found in Mayfair,' he told her. 'Percy dropped in to give me back my Chudley Cannons scarf. He saw the Law Enforcement Squad bringing him in – killed by another wizard he heard.'

'No, I didn't hear anything,' said Hermione, her face in the cupboard as she found herself a plate. She heard Ron settle himself on top of the kitchen table. For some reason this greatly annoyed her.

'Weren't you at Mayfair today? Misuse of Muggle Artefacts meeting?' Hermione could imagine Ron's furrowed brow. She felt terribly guilty – he was bothering to remember her schedule and she was lying to his face. Well, to the bottom of the cutlery drawer.

'I sat that one out,' she answered. 'Ernie's better in that kind of environment – they're all a bit aggressive and ... pompous.' Ron laughed loudly.

'Yeah, I can see Ernie getting into that a bit more than you,' he said as Hermione laid herself a place at the kitchen table. 'So were you at the office then? Only Percy said you weren't in there at nine – he was going to give you my scarf.'

'I took a break,' said Hermione; her heart was beating too fast. She was worried that Ron was going to hear it. 'Went for a walk, bought a sandwich in that Muggle shop' – Ron rolled his eyes with a grin – 'then I was back to it until about twenty minutes ago. So, how was your day?' She strolled back over to the oven and tapped it once with her wand. It grunted impatiently; her dinner wasn't quite heated up yet.

'Nothing to report really,' sighed Ron before grinning wildly as he remembered something. 'George and Angelina are officially together now – we went over to the Burrow for lunch with her ...' He fell silent then and Hermione had to dip her head to catch his eye. 'I forgot to tell you something actually.'

'What is it?' asked Hermione with trepidation.

'Ginny was at the Burrow when we got there,'

'She's home?' exclaimed Hermione, unable to keep the excitement from her voice. Ron snorted.

'She was there for an hour,' he said, tossing Hermione's fork into the air and catching it. 'And then she took off.'

'Did she say where she's been?'

'France apparently,' replied Ron with raised eyebrows. 'I wonder if she's stayed with the Delacours. ' he added with a bitter laugh. He looked at Hermione right in the eyes and sighed deeply.

'Did she mention ...'

'Harry?' Ron's face twisted slightly as he said the name. 'No. Mum asked her of course but she said that she hasn't seen him and she doesn't want to talk about it.'

Hermione watched as Ron very carefully put the fork back on the table. She knew that Ginny's appearance must have dragged up what they had spent three years trying to forget. She knew what it cost him to say Harry's name and now she had to take this opportunity to tell him what she saw. She had opened her mouth when Ron spoke.

'What a mess,' he said quietly. Hermione walked over to him and draped her arm around his shoulders, resting her head against his neck. He grabbed her hand and sighed again.

'I miss her, though,' Hermione said quietly. 'I miss them both.' She felt Ron nod and closed her eyes. She could feel every breath that he took through her own ribcage and the soft circles that his fingers made on the back of her hand.

'Oi!' yelled the oven shrilly. Hermione leapt up and pulled open the oven door. Black smoke burst out and Ron began to cough loudly. Hermione grabbed the oven gloves and desperately wrenched her dinner out. The top layer of potato was completely black. Hermione flung the dish down on the worktop and looked up at the clock. It was nearly one o'clock. Ron yawned pointedly.

'Go to bed,' said Hermione, trying desperately not to sound impatient or bossy. 'Wednesdays are always busy; you're going to need your sleep.'

'But your dinner ...' protested Ron.

'I'll pick the black bits off,' said Hermione. She reached over for Ron's hand and kissed it quickly. 'Go on!'

'Goodnight then,' Ron waved as he backed out of the kitchen. Hermione picked up the oven gloves again so she could move the dish of Sheppard's pie onto the table. She got out a spoon and sat down, and began scooping the sections of burnt potato onto the plate – all the while counting the number of lies that she had told her boyfriend in the previous conversation.

...