This story takes place some years after the events of Trick or Treat, by Emma Goldman Sachs, in which Hermione Granger and Jace Wayland meet briefly.

Chapter 1

"Where are you sitting?" shouted the young man, across the bar.

The pub was crowded and noisy, football playing on the big screen beside the bar. Hermione looked around, beginning to regret her choice; she'd been hungry and wet after her walk, and chosen the first place offering food.

"I'll be outside," she shouted back, after a moment's consideration. It had pretty much stopped raining now, and there were big umbrellas over the tables.

"Okay, I'll bring it out when it's ready."

Settling down with her drink, Hermione felt more cheerful. The sun had come out, and the garden at the front of the pub was pleasantly quiet and entirely Muggle. She pulled her map and guidebook out of her bag, ready to plan her next day's walk in the mountains.

As she spread the map out, a man came and sat down on the wall at the front of the garden. She glanced up, then tensed, all thoughts of lunch forgotten, as she registered the blur of magic and pain surrounding him.

The first thought to flit through her mind was Is one month off from picking up magic problems too much to ask?

The second was What?

Where had she seen a similar not-quite-spell before?

A second look showed swirling black inked marks, triggering something in her memory. Then the figure looked up, directly at her, and suddenly she realised that not only did she know what he was, she also knew who.

Pushing her map into her bag, she grabbed her wand, and tucked it discreetly inside the sleeve of her jumper. She checked that no-one was watching, and muttered a misdirection charm. It wouldn't make her suddenly invisible, but any Muggles trying to look at her would find themselves distracted by the view, or another customer.

She worked her way through the tables in the garden, across to the wall.

"Jace Herondale?" she said, quietly.

"Hermione Granger. Fancy seeing you here." She was right, he had recognised her.

Now she was closer, she could see a deep cut across his shoulder, bleeding sluggishly, another on his leg, and bruises on his face.

She sighed inwardly, seeing her holiday retreating away from her.

"Do you need help?" she asked, hoping that she didn't sound reluctant.

"Well, what I could really do with right now is a warlock who can tackle demon poison. I don't suppose you have one handily tucked away in your backpack?" asked Jace, an edge of sarcasm to his voice.

Hermione looked at him again. He looked thinner than she remembered – older, though that wasn't surprising - but also tired, with a greyish cast to his face.

"Look, I'm staying in a cottage round the corner. Come back with me, and I'll see what I can do," she said. "Healing magic isn't particularly my speciality, but if I can't help, I can get you to someone who can."

If needs be, I can apparate out of the cottage and take him back to right by his Institute side-along, she thought. He'll be gone by teatime.

Jace winced slightly as he stood up, and Hermione wondered momentarily if he would be able to walk to the cottage. She was about to offer her arm, but as she started to move, he seemed to pull himself together, and stand a little straighter.

"Go on, Florence Nightingale, lead the way," he said. "Don't worry, you won't have to carry me."

/

Hermione sighed inwardly with relief as they reached the gate to the cottage she was renting. Although it was only a few streets away, she had begun to wonder part way there if she should actually try to carry him. The second time she had offered support, when he missed his step on a steep kerb, he had taken her arm, and he was walking more and more slowly with every minute that passed.

She opened the door to the cottage with a muttered 'Alohamora', earning a sideways look from Jace.

"Showing off?" he asked, his words slightly slurred.

"Avoiding you falling over while I look for the keys," she answered, with some asperity, half pushing him inside.

The cottage door opened straight into the main living room, and Jace half sat, half fell onto the big sofa that sat in front of the open hearth. Hermione set her bag down on the table on the other side of the doorway, and pulled her wand free of her sleeve.

"What happened?" she asked, then realised that he was slumped down on the sofa, unconscious. She shook him, then shook harder, but got no response.

The wound on his shoulder looked angry and swollen. Demon poison, he'd said, so it wasn't just a question of blood loss. She thought back to her research after she'd met the Shadowhunters before; they had their own healing runes, and could heal easily from injuries that would kill normal humans.

Should she try and contact someone from St Mungo's? Leaving aside any questions of secrecy, it would take time, and it looked like he needed treatment urgently. He certainly wasn't in any state to apparate, even if she knew where to take him. Best to see what she could do herself, and then try to fetch someone more skilled.

Resolved, she took her wand, and ran through her stock of healing spells. Removal of poison from a wound; that seemed appropriate. She'd only used it once, a couple of years back when Ron had been stung by a scorpion on holiday in Spain, but it was simple enough.

She touched her wand to Jace's shoulder, and spoke the charm. A hissing stream of black liquid pooled from the wound, falling to the floor. Hermione was startled by the quantity; she'd barely got two drops of scorpion venom out of Ron. She touched the cut on his leg, repeating the spell, and a further tablespoon or so of black sizzling poison joined the pool.

She stood back, looking at the figure on the sofa. He had lost the grey tinge from his face, and was definitely breathing more easily.

An insistent tapping at the window pulled her attention away from him.

Of course. Three days into the month, a collapsed Shadowhunter, and now an owl from the Ministry. It was a familiar looking tawny - Kriophoros, she thought. She sighed, rubbing her face with her hands, then opened the window to let the owl in. Sliding the paper from its leg, she unfolded it.

Hermione,

Sorry to bother you, but we've just received a report of unusual activity from a wizarding couple near Corris. We've tried to contact them by owl and by Floo, but got no reply. As we have no other suitable people nearby, could you nip over and see them, and just check they're ok,

thanks, Bill

ps, hope you're enjoying your holiday

A grid reference and map was pinned to the bottom of the letter.

An amused voice came from the sofa.

"An owl?"

"I know," answered Hermione, distracted. "Three days it's been. You'd think he could give me one month's holiday, wouldn't you." She held the letter up again. "He says 'No suitable people nearby'. Do they not have broomsticks? Can they not apparate? How much do we actually pay these wizards."

She looked at Jace, realising suddenly that he was sitting up on the sofa, to all appearances unharmed.

"I thought you were half dead," she said.

He looked at her, eyebrows raised. "Would you prefer that I was?" he asked. He looked down. "I think whatever you did to get that" – and he indicated the pool on the floor – "out of me seems to have solved the problem."

A twist of black smoke was rising from the poison, which seemed to be sinking into the wooden floor.

"It's an interesting approach" he continued. "I've never seen demon injuries healed quite like that before. Not great for the décor, though."

Hermione sighed again, putting the letter down on the table. She flicked her wand at the pool. 'Scourgify'. The pool vanished, leaving a black indented mark on the floor. She flicked her wand again. 'Reparo', returning the floor to its previous, slightly battered, state.

The owl had hopped over to Jace, and was nudging his hand with its head. He held out his arm, and it jumped up, gripping his sleeve with his claws "I like your owl," he added, scratching its head.

"It's not mine," Hermione replied. "It just brought me a letter," and she pointed at the note.

"Of course," said Jace. "Owl post. Why not."

"Because a mobile phone would be quicker and easier?" answered Hermione. "It's a ridiculous way to communicate. But you try telling the Ministry that. They've been using owls since the Middle Ages, and they're not going to change now. And it means that if I want to tell them to get lost I have to write a letter and send it back to them, and it'll be less effort just to go and do what they want."

She stood by the table, looking down at the letter again. "No doubt this family have long since realised that whatever they saw was totally explicable, and gone out for the day."

Jace looked over her shoulder at the map. "I hope so," he said. "But I think it might be a good idea if I come with you, just in case they haven't."

There was an edge to his voice, as he said "We should move fast. That address looks very close to where I met the demons that did this -" and he indicated his shoulder. "Do you have a car."

Hermione shook her head. Infected by his urgency, she was pulling her phone out of her bag.

"I don't think we can really call a taxi to go demon hunting," said Jace.

"No – wait a moment – give me that grid reference." She was pulling up the map on her phone as she spoke.

"Google Street View?" asked Jace, bemused now. "Look, I can run, it'll only take me ten minutes or so, you can just follow on."

"I can get us there quicker than that," said Hermione, shortly. "Just don't tell anyone I did this, I don't want to think how many laws I'm breaking."

The cottage they wanted wasn't on Street View, unsurprisingly; wizarding houses were well hidden. She picked a point nearby, and took a good look at the surroundings, rotating the view to see it from all sides, and fixing it in her mind.

"Come here," she said, grasped him firmly by the arm, and apparated them there.