Thanks for the reviews guys! :) I'm glad you like it, especially since it's been so long since I've written and this is my first HP story, reviews are appreciated, any suggestions are welcome.

Rules of Engagement

Chapter Two: Native Tongues


Hermione's fingers gently pulled on the fringe of her velvet seat as she languidly took in her surroundings. The opera house was in all senses of the word, extravagant. The deep burgundy intertwining with vibrant gold; her seat plush with feather down and incased with the softest velvet. She jolted slightly as coarse finger tips moved over her hand, ceasing her fidgeting.

"You're not really here are you?" Whispered Harry, his eyes still focused on the stage.

Hermione felt her cheeks blush as she gave her friend an apologetic glance before focusing towards the actors.

"I'm sorry, I'm trying. Work this week… it's been rather difficult."

She felt his fingers clasp hers, squeezing lightly before returning to his lap as he sighed thoughtfully.

"I know. I am the head of your department after all." He glanced at her then, his smile warm and comforting.

She chuckled softly. "Ah, yes of course. No wonder you were able to get such good seats."

His smile faltered slightly; eyes peering down on her attentively.

"You're the only person I know whose mind could possibly be somewhere else during Tosca; especially during the final act. I thought you would be happy having the French take Stoyan."

Hermione instantly seethed, her displeasure coming through in a low whisper.

"You knew of this? You knew and you said nothing?"

Harry's poster immediately straightened as he leaned back into his seat, Hermione's famous temper was flaring and he knew better than to take the offensive.

"I... It was in the gesture of a surprise…of sorts. I thought you'd be relieved."

"Relieved? To have all our hard work practically thrown into the garbage? Nearly two years wasted to be handed off to that retched French dog…Toussaint. Ugh, even his name is absolutely infuriating, sashaying into the court room as if he were Gabriel himself." She scoffed.

"I…I don't know, I found him rather…nice." Harry stuttered, his shoulders slightly shrugging.

"Of course you would, you and Lamont I swear; goo goo eye'd over a man who's probably never set foot into the field. They don't know how much work it takes, tracking, surveying, recon. You of all people should know Harry it's not easy work." She turned to him then; eyes blazing as he sighed, his gaze apologetic.

"Of course I know 'Mione. I was your partner before Seamus. Six months in Prague tracking the git. Three bruised ribs, a nasty case of flu from the ghastly weather there and a rash; which I to still this day suspect was from that horrid food at that hostel. I loathe the man as much as you do but you have to admit that maybe we were missing something, he always got away." Harry sighed, remembering his days as a field Auror before his promotion to a desk and a stack of incident reports that nearly buried him every day, most of them filed by Ron.

"I'm sorry Harry… I just… I have this feeling that it's not the end of it all. I thought I did, but I just know he's not going to go down without a fight. I feel as though we are the only ones who actually get it you know? The only ones that actually understand his ways, that takes him seriously enough to not tread lightly."

"Well then…it sounds you won't have much to worry about. Gwenaël is by all accounts and purposes a prison, but it's no Azkaban. From what we've seen from Stoyan I suspect he's most surely already half way done with his escape plan." Harry offered her a knowing smirk, gently resting his arm around her shoulder.

"If you knew of this then why even bother involving the French?" She glanced at his arm shrugging it off lightly to show she was still upset.

"I haven't seen you out of the office in months 'Mione, I thought you could use a little break. Maybe let him be their problem for a while? But if you are so insistent on continuing this…this 'case', I will not stand in your way."

Hermione scowled in slight confusion, eying him inquisitively. "I thought he was under French jurisdiction…"

Harry smiled and shrugged leaning back in his seat as he watched the actors take their bow. "He is…in France, but I suspect he would go anywhere the French couldn't touch him so easily. So staying there would be out of the question of course."

Hermione smiled triumphantly, she did so love having friends in higher places; most weren't privy to the knowledge of all the loop holes a head of the Auror's department had access to.

"So he would be…up for the highest bidder of sorts."

"Well…who ever can hold on to the slippery bastard, I suppose?" His smirk grew wider as he watched her revel in the new found knowledge.

"I'm assuming I'm not supposed to know any of this" Hermione whispered, shooting him a sideways glance as they stood.

"Know what?" said Harry as he shrugged, feigning oblivious.


The life of an Auror isn't easy but it held a certain amount of respect that one could be proud of as well as use in situations where one found the cards of fate not exactly dealing in their favor. It was because of this that Hermione, Ron and Seamus found themselves standing outside a dilapidated apartment complex in one of London's seediest neighborhoods two days later.

"So…what you're saying is; we're going to be just barely skimming the line of what the Ministry will and will not allow us?" Ron queried, his gaze traveling over the broken down swing set that was now rotting away in an abounded pool next to them.

"Well when you put it like that you make it sound as though I know this is somewhat wrong." Hermione replied, her eyebrow arching as she looked at Seamus.

"As long as you can get us out of guarding some pointless piece of parchment in the sub-basement of the Ministry; I'm happy for breaking any and all rules." Seamus chuckled as they made their way into the lobby.

"Good, I'm going to you need you lot. I'm sure you've heard the news of Stoyan's escape, he didn't even make it in the bloody cell before he cursed three of the guards." Hermione seethed.

"See it was just like I said: Gwenaël is practically a resort. Toussaint was pompous enough to think that he could handle the sorts of Stoyan." Ron scoffed as Seamus nodded in agreement.

"Did you see the picture of him on the front page? They practically mobbed the codder at his chateau when everyone got wind of the news. He looked as though he was about to bust out of his silk linings he was so livid."

They all laughed as they made their way up the creaking stairs and down the moldy hallway to apartment 16F. They had been here many times; the need for stealth had been deemed unneeded. Magnus Birger was in all accounts: Harmless. If anyone would know where Stoyan would be heading to next it would be him. His unthreatening nature made him a rather good sneak and eavesdropper in the muggle and magical worlds.

Hermione gently pushed her way towards the door just before Ron knocked.

"Ron…maybe I should knock. You and Seamus were not exactly very welcoming the last time we saw him."

"Hey, he tried to touch you; he knows the rules. I don't care if he's sweet on you in his own sick little way but he's got to learn he's going to get whomped if he even breathes on you."

"Aye, he's right creepy with all that Hermione. Besides I'm sure he's healed by now." Seamus said, giving Ron a smirk as Hermione knocked, shaking her head begrudgingly. The door opened slowly, the scent of old books and rotting flowers filling their nostrils. A pair of frightened blue eyes peered through the crack before softening, the door swinging wide open.

"Ah! Hermione Granger, underbart! Welcome, välkomna! Please come in!" beamed Magnus.

He was a short, middle aged man with wavy blonde hair, a Swedish accent as thick as his eyebrows. Magnus's smile faltered as he took notice of the two wizards behind her.

"Oh…I see you've brought your dogs as well."

Ron rolled his eyes, pushing past Hermione and grabbing the informer by his vest roughly.

"Watch your mouth you Swedish rat. This isn't a social call so stop you're drooling and let us through." He tossed the man aside, straightening his jacket as Seamus sneered past him.

"To what do I owe this increasingly stressful visit?" Magnus glared at the two men before returning his attention to Hermione, pulling out a rickety wooden chair and blowing dust from the seat; motioning for her to sit.

"Penko Stoyan. We need to know what his next move is." She smiled graciously as he handed her a cup of tea, fully ignoring Ron and Seamus as he sat across from her.

"I… I wouldn't know anything about that I'm afraid. It's been a rather dry month." His hands clasped together nervously as he averted her gaze.

"Now you know that's a lie, Magnus. I thought we were past this? You'd be well taken care of, galleons or pounds you can trust the Ministry to pay handsomely."

He chuckled softly as he fidgeted with the fringe on his vest, licking his lips in thought.

"It is not that I doubt your word. I would never; min dyrbara, but I cannot. I have been…restricted from giving out this information. I have already said too much."

"That's it!" Ron growled as he moved towards the man, his fists clenched but stopped when Hermione gestured for him to stay back. She leaned over the table, touching Magnus's hand softly as she spoke.

"Now is that anyway to treat an old friend? Have I been replaced so easily, min vackra vän?"

Magnus's cheeks reddened, clearly impressed by the young witches grasp of his native tongue.

"You've been learning. You speak as though you were a national. I've always admired you're intelligence… and incredible grace." He swooned, putting his hand over hers.

Seamus and Ron both rolled their eyes and groaned, earning a glare from both her and Magnus.

"As have I for you Magnus, so please show your dybara where your loyalties lie."

Magnus heaved a long sigh, begrudgingly pulling his hand away from hers to retrieve a pen from his breast pocket.

"An Auror from the French Ministry came to see me last night; she brought money… a lot of money. She said part of the payment was to not divulge this information to you; so you must understand my hesitance. You have been so kind to me, unlike all the others. So how could I deny you this?" He confessed as he scrawled a few notes on a discarded napkin.

"She reminded me a lot of you: beautiful and intelligent in every way. She left me… disarmed. But I still prefer you, I hope you know this."

She smiled graciously as she took the napkin from him, taking note of nervousness in his tone and scribbled hand writing. "Thank you Magnus. Just one more thing, you wouldn't have happened to catch her name or anything that could be of help to us?"

He thought for a moment, his yellow teeth grinding together as he shook his head.

"No she refused. But her looks were very striking from what I can recall. She had very long, beautiful blonde hair; almost silver in the sunlight. The most incredible blue eyes I've ever seen."

He chuckled softly. "I remember thinking she would be the perfect archetype of one of my own if her accent hadn't given her away."

"Well…thank you. I'll keep this between us, I assure you. We must take our leave though, duty calls." She sighed, gently squeezing his hand before gesturing Ron and Seamus to follow. He watched them go, longingly holding his hand to his chest as the door shut behind them.

"I can't believe you touched the sniveling rat." Ron said in disgust as they made their way down the hallway.

"You get more flies with honey than vinegar Ronald. You and Seamus should learn that. His eye still looks ghastly thanks to you lot, you too should be ashamed of yourselves."

Ron looked at Seamus who simply shrugged nonchalantly as they exited the apartment building.


Heat. All she could feel was incredible, unrelenting heat. She watched as a bead of sweat moved down the bridge of her nose, carelessly hanging from the tip only to be bumped off as their taxi driver maneuvered over the poorly paved road.

"You know Hermione, when you said to us, 'Hey boys, how about some tropical weather?' I was under the impression we'd actually be in tropical weather, or maybe even in the tropics. You seemingly failed to mention how far we actually would be from any cool breeze what so ever." Ron said, eyeing her down as he tried to adjust in his seat. The red headed wizard was covered in sweat, his complexion resembling the hue of his hair.

"Actually what I said was tropical like weather, Ronald. I never said we'd be in the tropics." She corrected grimacing as his elbow moved uncomfortably into her side. "And stop squirming; you're right in my kidney for Merlin's sake."

"Well this is far from the apple tree, this isn't just heat Hermione this is humid. Straight to the point; hot as dragon's breath humid." Seamus groaned; his face beaded with sweat as they hit another pot hole.

"And could this …whatever you call it…'taxi' be any smaller? Ron and I are practically snogging!"

"You really think being pushed up against you with that horrid cologne you wear; practically suffocating me is any better?" Ron retorted, shoving his elbow in to Seamus. Hermione rolled her eyes as the two continued their shoving match, the small taxi rocking back and forth as they stopped in front of run down hotel.

She had decided to start with the first location on Magnus's notes, Tangier, Morocco. "Stop it you two or I'll hex you both! We're here for the day, that's it. Magnus's notes said Penko has an old contact here. We find him, we know where Stoyan's headed. I'm sure you can stand the heat for thirteen more hours."

They peeled themselves from the cabs leather seats, she would honestly be glad when they could leave this over populated oven they deemed a city, the thick air made her dizzy and the heat was almost unbearable.

The hotel wasn't any better on the inside. The smell of mold and rotting paint surrounded them as she rang the bell for the attendant; its tone slightly flat and muffled from overuse. A lanky Moroccan man came from the back, lazily pulling the check in book out of the drawer next to him.

"Bonjour, comment puis-je vous aider?" He sighed.

"Um, nous sommes à la recherche d'un locataire, room 30B." Hermione had always struggled with the French language; she took note that as soon as this was over she would put much more effort into studying it. The trio stood there impatiently as the man yawned, nonchalantly flipping through the registry.

"30B chambre, oui. un monsieur ... Sergey… Boyko. You want me… leave message?"

She shook her head and smiled graciously, motioning for Ron and Seamus to move up the stairs as she removed her wand.

"Non merci, though I do have one more question…" She leaned forward on the counter gesturing for him to come closer. The clerk sighed, his eyes looking towards the back at the soccer match on the television that he was no doubtingly missing because them.

Finally he begrudgingly obliged. "If you don't want…room or leave message… I ha-" His words caught in his throat as Hermione pressed her wand against his temple, wisps of white smoked curling around it as she took his memory. The clerk's eyes rolled upwards, his head slamming down flat against the desk.

"Sorry mate, protocols and all." She shrugged, ripping the page from the registry as she made her way to the stairs. Ron and Seamus had already taken their positions on either side of the door, 30B drawn in thick black ink on the front.

"Give him a nice nap then, 'Mione?"

"You know I hate doing that Ron, but it's better than knocking him around." She sighed, pushing her wand against the cast iron lock.

"Alohomara" The sound metal scraping against metal echoed through the hallway as the door unlatched.

She looked to Seamus and Ron before slowly pushing the door open with her wand.

The apartment was basic needs at best. A shabby bed was pushed into the corner, the sheets in disarray with small and rather ancient television set sitting on top of a soda crate, faint static on the screen. The kitchen looked as though it was the size of a closet, the spigots rusted through as brown droplets fell in cadence from the spout. She traced a line of dust along the dresser as Ron and Seamus moved in, searching the other rooms. The old worn cabinet was covered with passports, old ID photos, and an array of foreign money. She turned one of the cards in her hand; his face was oddly familiar, not a prominent face but one you'd remember in passing.

"What are you doing here?" A thick Bulgarian accent jolted her. She quickly spun around with her wand drawn and was greeted by calm yet questioning eyes.

"Sergey Boyko… My name is-"

"Hermione Granger. You may be just another face to 'Dese muggles but I know who you are. You can tell 'Dem to come out its okay, I'm unarmed…obviously." He gestured to the towel that was wrapped around his waist. She nodded slowly as Ron and Seamus moved from the shadows, wands still drawn.

"I… I know you. I thought your name looked familiar. Merlin you used to play for the Bulgarians." Ron exclaimed.

"Aye, you were the best seeker they ever had." Seamus muttered, his eyes fully taking in the rooms state. The man that stood before them was still in good shape, he looked as though he'd never aged. His hair buzzed short, the famous Bulgarian logo tattooed on the back of his neck. A man that years before was king now hiding away under other's alias's, living in a rat infested hotel covered in mold and rust.

"Správny, I was. Till Krum of course." He slightly shrugged, his hand moving to the towel to hold it up. "But 'Dat was a long time ago, before wars and bad choices. I've already told you all 'Dat I know. I don't know where Penko is."

Hermione blinked then, slightly shaking her head as she eyed him carefully.

"Someone was here before us?"

"Another Auror, she just left. I was lucky enough for her to catch me in 'De bath." He chuckled softly as he rubbed his chin, a smirk playing across his lips. She lowered her wand, nodding slowly as she weighed her options. He was lying, she knew this; but if they left now they could catch up to the French agent that was vastly becoming a thorn in their side. She could confront her, maybe with Ron and Seamus at her side she could even get her to back down.

"Well…it seems that we've gotten all we can then. Sorry for barging in like this." She quickly slipped one of the ID's into her pocket before he could notice, nodding her head for the two wizards to follow her out.

"How could I mind? Two beautiful women come to see me in one day, feels like 'De old days."

He followed them to the door, gently wrapping his hand around Hermione's arm; she tensed instantly, gripping her wand in her pocket.

"Take care Miss Granger, I hope you find what you're looking for." His smirk was cocky, his eyes gleaming with something she couldn't place. She noted to herself she'd have to deal with him later; there were more pressing matters at hand. They only had minutes to catch up to this mystery woman and she would be damned if she was going to let the trail go cold.