Sorry guys, my muse has a bad case of ADD, also, I will try to be as accurate as I can without being tediously boring or within my range of knowledge. This is, to describe it as best I can, a magical/non-magical AU, in other words, Hermione is a muggle, and Fleur is still a quarter Veela. Also, Hermione is now American cause A) I can't portray the British military with much accuracy at all and B) it makes sense this way, based on my limited knowledge of the European educational system (my time as an exchange student) generally a second language commonly French is learned, whereas in the American educational system, there is rarely a language requirement or if there is, most of the time Spanish is the language due to our geographical location. Hermione is going to be stationed in Kaiserslautern Germany and not know any language other than English (which wouldn't make sense if she grew up needing multiple languages... hence the reason she's American for this one)

As a further aside, I will do my best to clarify things and use accurate terminology, however, my time in the military was spent as CBRN and Field Artillery, and Hermione is going to be Supply. And we all have our own slang and ways of doing things. Some of that will undoubtedly show through. The title refers to the set of instructions given every Friday before being released for the weekend, or before going on leave or pass or generally being away from leadership for more than 12 hours. The instructions are usually like, don't drink and drive, call a friend or leader for a ride, don't kill anyone or get killed, don't get married to the stripper, don't get arrested.

Lastly, I make no money, and these characters are not mine, I'm merely borrowing them.

"Granger!"

"Yes Sar'nt!" The brunette looked up from her desk where she'd been hunched over a stack of paperwork. Her hand had been starting to cramp as she wrote the same line over and over on each form. She'd written it nearly 50 times and knew that there was another 100 at least. She placed the shoddy government pen down on her desk, looking through the wire caging surrounding her towards the door.

A middle aged man in torn fatigues stood there, his cap and sunglasses in one hand, a travel mug in his other hand.

"Shit. You ain't done yet?" He questioned, a friendly half smile on his face as he swaggered over to her desk and threw down his cap.

"No, fuckin' computer went down, gotta do it by hand. Fuckin' hate COMET." Granger, a skinny soldier by any definition, leaned back in her chair, the old wood joints creaking as the weight changed, her uniform dwarfing her. She clasped her hands behind her head, her curly brown hair pulled back into a tight bun.

"Get used to it now, it'll never get better." The other soldier, his name tape reading Dean, took a long swig of his coffee, the dim light catching the grey at his temples making it shine a light silver.

"Anyways, good news Granger, Capt approved your leave. Just make sure this is all done before ya go," he gestured to the piles of paperwork on the desk, "I don't wanna have to finish it cause you're out bangin' some local girls." He stood from his chair and grabbed his stuff before walking off down the hall to his own equally unorganized desk.

Hermione cracked her knuckles before she hunched over her desk again, resuming her process of writing the same line another hundred times. She hated having to do the annual inventory. Every item had to be written up, checked and accounted for, its own individual slip completed fully. She was surrounded by gray bags each containing a gas mask, two extra filters, and one instruction manual (she hoped). Two hundred of them had been ordered despite the unite only having about 120 people. She'd been at it for a week and gotten the majority of the work done, having been assigned to the CBRN cage due to a lack of having a CBRN NCO to carry out their own tasks. Dean had been assigned the arms room, something she was envious of. Chemical equipment was, like usual, the least favorite to inventory and maintain. The majority of it couldn't be done by the operator and would have to be sent out (another stack of paperwork) if it didn't work. And what could be maintained, usually had residual OC spray in it from training.

The room itself, despite being a large open cage, had a definite peppery taste to the air. Despite the burn to her eyes, she had to constantly remind herself not to touch them, the residue on her hands would make it worse. She sighed to herself, knowing she'd have to wash this uniform at least three times to get it clean when she was done. She'd worn it all week just to ensure her others stayed clean. It was also her shittiest uniform, the knees had been torn on some barbed wire during training and the elbows were permanently stained with grass smears and the dark browns of mud puddles she'd swam through when a vengeful sergeant had decided to punish them for an earlier mistake. All in all, it wouldn't be much of a loss if she could never wear it again.

She couldn't help but smile, her leave was approved and starting next week she'd be on a train to Paris for the next two weeks. Sure, it was only about an eight-hour train ride off post, but it was Paris, a city she'd always wanted to see since she'd been a child. And somehow, she'd been lucky enough to get station in Germany for her first duty station. K-Town wasn't that bad she had to admit. Despite not knowing the local language, there were so many American soldiers there that she really hadn't needed to know anything but English. Honestly, she couldn't really tell that she wasn't in the U.S. anymore, the post of course looked like any other post, but the surrounding city that had existed had been Americanized when K-Town became one of the largest bases outside of the states.

Hermione had been there for a few months already, having arrived at the start of winter, now it was summer and she thought she could fully enjoy what Paris had to offer, and she'd familiarized herself with the trains and buses, something not too common where she was from. Public transit had never really caught on back at home like it had there.

She'd been so unsure of what she was doing when she arrived that she didn't go off post for the first couple of weeks until a few of the guys had invited her out to the bar one Friday night. She'd gone along and just followed them blindly, copying their actions and trying to not look afraid. Hell, she'd been shot at already and wasn't afraid of that but the subway, that was a different animal all together, and she wouldn't dare admit her fear of getting stranded to the guys. She'd never live that one down.

Zabini, another young private, though slightly more seasoned than her, walked into the room, "After formation a few of us are headed to a new bar. It's a bit of a trip from here though Lovegood said it's worth it, you comin' too?"

Hermione looked up from her paperwork, her eyes meeting Zabini's, he was standing there in a dark brown t-shirt tucked into pants that he liked to wear a little too loose, sagging low on his hips, a multi-tool proudly on display and a 550 cord bracelet in black and neon green around his left wrist. His tags were sticking out of his shirt, and she couldn't help but think he looked like a soup sandwich, but he did know how to have a good time. "Sure," she shrugged, "who all's goin'?"

"Who the fuck knows," he shrugged and walked off.

K-Town - Kaiserslautern

COMET- annual inspection done by the highest level of officer available, every item needs to be identified and accounted for

CBRN- Chemical, Biological, Radiological, Nuclear

think thats it...