Design Paradigm

Second: The Lost Outsider

Hermione awoke slowly, sprawled over her comforter and shivering slightly. She glanced at the clock on the wall—already half past seven—before groaning and crawling back under the sheets, curling into a ball and stuffing her cold feet underneath a still-slumbering Severus's legs. It seemed that years of living in a significantly warmer climate totally destroyed his tolerance for the cold weather of Britain—not that he admitted it, of course. Hermione had discovered one night after visiting the toilet that he'd been shivering slightly even underneath her thick comforter and cast a mild warming charm on the bed before getting back in, and she did it every night he came to stay for the past four weeks. She didn't tell him about it, but she was sure he noticed the magic all the same, if the way he seemed to hold her closer was any indication.

He couldn't stay at her flat all the time, of course. Since she had been incredibly busy trying to sort out the mess at the Department of Mysteries—it was humiliating how they had interrogated her like she was a common criminal—it left them little time to do anything during the day. And he, in turn, had to go back to his home in Hawaii to fulfill potion orders for Mrs. Takahashi's business. So they agreed to meet on the weekends, sometimes in Hawaii and sometimes at her London flat. They considered, at one point, whether it would be all right to venture out into public to have dinner, but both agreed it would be too much hassle considering the paparazzi following her around after Witch Weekly's rather…interesting article about her.

The day after the War Memorial commemoration, a Witch Weekly article with a hilarious headline had appeared: "The Kiss of Life! Hermione Granger's Love Resurrects Fallen War Hero!" She and Severus had laughed themselves silly at the article—while their writers had correctly identified Severus as the man in the photographs from the commemoration, the article was full of wild speculation ranging from her developing some all-powerful resurrection spell to necrophilia (ew). Nobody with a brain had believed a word of it (Witch Weekly had been declining in quality over the years), but it didn't stop people from talking about it. So in light of all the hubbub, they decided not to parade around in public and instead had dinner together at her flat or back in Hawaii.

This weekend was a London weekend, and she was presently trying not to giggle as Severus's brow furrowed at the coldness of her feet. She'd gotten out from underneath the sheets because it was much too warm for her, but after spending a few hours in the open, her extremities were ice cold. "You are more evil than I first thought," he murmured sleepily without opening his eyes.

"If I'm evil, then what are you? Satan himself?" she laughed, absently tracing the faded brown lines on his arm left by the effects of Nagini's venom.

"Yes. You see what you've gotten into?" he murmured. "You've sold your soul to the devil."

She didn't reply, but instead grinned and snuggled a little deeper into the covers to relax for a little while longer. Today, her to-do list consisted of a few errands in Diagon Alley, and she should really leave soon to avoid the midmorning rush. "Are you sure you wouldn't like me to go with you today?" Severus said, groggily opening his eyes. "I can dazzle the damned with my satanic visage."

"No, I don't think they're quite ready for that yet," Hermione said, yawning and stretching herself out. She pressed a kiss to his nose before pulling herself out of bed. "Besides, knowing our luck, you'd be mobbed by photographers as soon as you got out of the Floo." He gave a noncommittal murmur of assent and nodded before shutting his eyes again.

Hermione had a quick shower—after which, Severus was still fast asleep—and Flooed herself over to Diagon Alley. She had to stop by Gringotts to withdraw a bit of money and pick up a book she had ordered at Obscurus Books. The Gringotts trip was relatively painless, though she found herself wishing that withdrawing money in the wizarding world was as simple as in the Muggle world; having to go down to her vault each time was rather tiresome, and the Gringotts goblins would hear none of her suggestions about how to streamline the withdrawal and deposit process.

"Ah, good morning, Hermione," said the plump Obscurus Books shopkeeper when she stepped inside the small, dusty shop.

"Good morning, Peter. Has the book I ordered arrived?" she asked, stepping up to the counter and smiling. He turned to examine the reserve shelf behind him and quickly plucked a book from it.

"Got in just last night, in fact. Sorry this one took so long," said Peter apologetically, placing the thick book on the counter as she took a handful of Galleons from her money purse. The book was obscenely expensive, but it was a rare text on transport magic that she'd been itching to get her hands on. She was hoping to find some sort of confirmation of the conclusions she'd drawn about the portkey accident, and it was unavailable in all the libraries she looked in.

"Oh, it's no problem at all," Hermione said, counting out twenty Galleons for him.

"Thought I'd let you know, Hermione," Peter said as he swept the Galleons into his hand, "there was a bloke from the Ministry that came in to ask about any orders you made."

"What? Why?" Hermione asked in alarm. Peter shrugged.

"Dunno. Said he was from the Department of Mysteries and that I had to tell him. Nervous-looking fellow," Peter explained. He gave her a rather triumphant look. "Sounded like a load of bollocks to me, 'cause the Department doesn't have any power over me so I tell him so. Must've been right, 'cause he scurried right on out without saying anything else."

"I see…Thank you very much, Peter. I really appreciate it. Have a good day," Hermione said, stuffing the book into her enchanted handbag and waving at Peter as she left the shop.

She stood on the cobbled street, her mind racing. The first suspect that came to mind was Richard Thompson, the one who had caused her portkey accident in the first place: he had been severely Confunded by that reprehensible Sinclair and would have killed her if not for a brief moment of clarity. He was also the one who had been assigned to investigate her in Hawaii, so it wouldn't surprise her if he was this nervous man that Peter described. But why on Earth would they be tracking her book purchases? Did they still think that she was leaking Ministry secrets? Or perhaps looking to refine her portkey experiments for more nefarious purposes? She was refining her experiment, to be sure, but there were no ulterior motives and she thought it had been clear enough already.

With a sigh, she turned to make her way back to the public Floo at the other end of the Alley, absently thinking about the multitude of things that needed looking into back at the Department. She was a little too absentminded, it seemed, as she smacked right into someone and heard the unfortunate person stumble to the ground. "Oh my—I'm so sorry!" Hermione said, immediately crouching down to help the girl to her feet.

"Wh…what happened…?" asked the black-haired girl, wobbling a bit as she stood up. Her face was ashen and her words were slightly slurred. Hermione's first thought was that this girl was either drunk or hung over, until she caught a faint whiff of something that reminded her of maple syrup. She he leaned closer to check the girl's eyes; her pupils were dilated and the smell of syrup was on her breath. Hermione's eyes widened in realization—this girl smelled of sedation potion, and her eyes only confirmed Hermione's suspicions.

Immediately, Hermione led the girl to a nearby bench and sat her down. "Hello? Are you okay?" she asked, taking a seat beside her. The girl blinked slowly and looked to her, quite obviously struggling to focus her vision.

"I'm…I gotta buy something…" the girl said, before frowning and looking down at the scrap of parchment she was clutching in her hands. Judging by the girl's accent, she was American. What was an American doing here, and why had she been sedated? Hermione worried for a moment that the girl might have been kidnapped and abused, but she looked tidy and healthy enough on the outside.

"What happened to you? Who did this?"

The girl turned to look back toward Hermione, her head sagging as though it was too heavy for her neck to support. "What?"

"What happened to you?" Hermione repeated, more urgently this time. The sedation seemed to only just be wearing off, and she wasn't sure if the girl was Confunded as well.

"Um…"

Hermione got to her feet and pulled the girl up with her. "Come with me," she said, and found that the girl obediently began following her when she took a few steps. That certainly wasn't good—who knew what she might have been forced to do under sedation? When Hermione reached the store she wanted, the small potions shop beside the apothecary, she told the girl to stay put and quickly slipped inside to buy a small vial of Invigoration Draught, which should counteract the grogginess from the sedation nicely.

To her relief, the girl was still standing outside the shop, looking rather dazed and attracting the attention of the passersby. Hermione led her over to one of the tables outside the frozen yogurt shop that had replaced Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour and sat her down again. As Hermione opened the vial and looked back to her, she realized, to her dismay, that there was dried blood on her scalp and a little bit behind her ear. Something seemed to clench in her stomach at the sight; it looked like she'd been beaten across the head…

"Drink this, it will help," said Hermione, handing the vial to the girl. Without so much as a moment of thought, the girl took the potion and downed it.

Almost immediately, a change came over the girl: the color returned to her face and she seemed to slowly sit up straighter, like a balloon being inflated. "Whoa, what happened?" she said, looking at the empty vial in her hand. She looked up at Hermione and squinted. "Did you—help me? Who are you?"

"Yes. My name is Hermione Granger," she said, holding out her hand.

"Thank you very much, Hermione. That's a neat name. Never heard it before," said the girl, shaking Hermione's hand. "I'm Angela Villar."

"What happened to you, Angela? Are you in pain?" Hermione asked, taking a seat in the other chair sitting by the table.

"Head hurts a bit...You know, I could've sworn I was just at the airport…Where am I?" and Angela, looking around in confusion. Hermione looked to her in surprise.

"What were you doing at the airport?"

"I have a flight leaving today…Oh god, what time is it?" she cried, looking to her wrist for a watch and not finding one, then patting her pockets and not finding a watch in them either. "Where's my stuff? Where'd my friends go?"

"Hey, hey, calm down," Hermione said soothingly. She glanced at her own watch. "It's nearly nine o'clock."

Panic flashed across Angela's face. "Nine o'clock? I missed my flight!"

"Hang on a moment," said Hermione, holding up her hands in an attempt to calm the increasingly hysterical Angela. "Your flight? Why don't you take a portkey?"

That seemed to calm Angela down, but she looked rather confused. "Portkey? What's that?" she asked, cocking her head to one side. Hermione felt rather confused as well—how could this girl not know about portkeys? Perhaps the blow to her head gave her a bit of amnesia?

"What do you remember happening?" Hermione asked quietly, leaning a little closer. Angela seemed to pick up on how serious Hermione was and looked as though she was trying quite hard to focus.

"I was at the airport...security wanted to see me…then that's where it gets fuzzy," she said finally, frowning. "Then I met this man and he gave me some stuff and left me here." She reached down and untied a sack of what sounded like money from her belt loop. "He said to buy a wand—whatever that means—and then gave me a bag of these coins. What are these? Is this money?" Angela seemed amazed when she pulled out a Galleon and held it up in the sunlight.

Just who was this girl? She was at the airport waiting for a flight and was sedated, then brought to Diagon Alley to buy a wand? And to make things even more perplexing, Angela had no idea about the Galleons she was holding in her hand. She even looked to have a lot of them, considering how heavy the bag looked and sounded.

"There are some words on this paper. Looks like Latin? I can't tell," said Angela, passing the parchment to Hermione. She peered at it curiously, the confusion mounting in her mind.

Buy wand at Ollivander's

Stay at Leaky Cauldron (money will last 30 days)

Practice these (say the words):

- Lumos/nox

- Wingardium leviosa (swish and flick)

- Locomotor mortis (point at human target)

- Protego (optional)

Find Estelle Lattimore at Ministry once proficient

Hermione felt her blood running cold when she read the parchment. Something was definitely wrong about this whole situation and with this confused Angela girl. She took a moment to think of anybody with the name Lattimore at the Ministry, and felt a chill spread through her when she realized that there was an Estelle Lattimore working in the Muggle Liaison Office. And with that revelation, she realized that this girl…it was almost as though she was a—

A Muggle?

No, that couldn't be right. How could she have gotten into Diagon Alley, then? The Muggle-repelling charms would have had her speeding out of there in no time flat if she was a Muggle. But then why would she have instructions to buy a wand? Angela looked to be in her late twenties and was much too old to not have had a wand before, let alone require instructions to buy one. Was it really amnesia like she thought at first? Or perhaps it was the work of a powerful Memory Charm. It wouldn't be entirely unheard of; from what Hermione recalled, Gilderoy Lockhart had been just as amazed by magic after his Memory Charm backfired on him…

But that conclusion didn't sit well with Hermione at all. A little voice in the back of her head told her that this was all wrong.

"I remember one more thing," Angela said suddenly. "I heard voices…They talked about a Sinclair guy or something…"

Hermione's heart clenched in her chest at the mention of that name, and the phrase "shit just got real" drifted through her mind.

"Come with me. We're going to buy a wand," said Hermione finally, getting to her feet.

"No, I need to get to the airport! I've got to get home!" said Angela, giving her a pleading look. Hermione tried her best to look encouraging.

"It's important. Once we do that, I'll help you figure out how to get home," said Hermione. "I promise."

Angela gave her a rather dubious look and Hermione worried that she might have reached the end of her agreeableness, but she got to her feet nonetheless and waited for Hermione to lead the way. Smiling, Hermione took her to Ollivander's, holding the door open for her and quickly scanning the area around for suspicious people before stepping in herself.

"Ah, to what do I owe this immense pleasure, Miss Granger?"

Mr. Ollivander stood behind the counter, looking a little older and a little thinner but as constant as ever. The shop was as dusty as Hermione remembered when she first visited at the age of eleven, and Mr. Ollivander's eyes still shone through the gloom in that curious manner he had. "My friend needs a wand," said Hermione, gently nudging Angela toward the counter. Hermione wasn't sure if what she was doing was even right—perhaps she should have notified Harry or someone first—but considering this girl's confusion, it wouldn't be safe to have her wandering around Diagon Alley without a wand.

"I don't believe we've met before," said Ollivander curiously.

"She's not from here," Hermione said. "But she needs a new wand. Her name is Angela."

"I see. Give me just a moment," said Ollivander, disappearing among the shelves and shelves of wands and pulling down a few boxes. When he returned, he held one out to Angela. "Willow and unicorn hair. Ten and a half inches. A bit whippy—good for charms."

"I'm sorry, but what's this for?" said Angela, taking the wand by the tip. Ollivander seemed startled.

"No, no, hold it at the other end. It's for magic, remember?" Hermione said quickly, taking the wand and holding the handle toward her. She hoped to high heaven that Angela would just take it and not say another word.

"Magic? What do you mean?"

Of course.

Angela gave Hermione a rather disgruntled look. "Is this some kind of joke? I need to get home."

"No, no, just wave the wand and you'll see," said Hermione in the most conciliatory voice she could. She looked to Ollivander, whose surprised expression had quickly turned into one of suspicion. "Sorry, her memory is a little shaky, Mr. Ollivander."

"Yes, well," he said, frowning. "Go on, then."

"So…just wave it, right?" said Angela, examining the wand and looking to Hermione as though she was going to suddenly jump up and yell "gotcha!" She sighed and gave it a half-hearted wave.

Boxes were thrown off the shelves and scattered all over behind the counter. "Whoa!" Angela exclaimed, dropping the wand in shock and staggering backwards. She stared wide-eyed at her hand, as though it was suddenly foreign to her. "Wh-what was that?"

"Not to worry, not to worry," said Ollivander. He held out another wand for her. "Oak and dragon heartstring. Eleven and a quarter inches. Very supple. Go ahead."

Angela waved this wand and gave a yelp of surprise when there was a small flash of fire that singed the countertop. "Fuuuu—what's going on?"

"I'll explain later," Hermione said, taking the wand from Angela and handing it back to Mr. Ollivander.

The more wands that Ollivander presented to her, the more he seemed to forget Angela's odd behavior. He was growing ever happier as he pulled more and more boxes from the shelves. "I've not had a customer like this quite some time, Miss Granger," he said with a smile. "Don't worry, there's sure to be a wand for you in here somewhere…" And the more wands that Angela was given, the less surprised she became when boxes flew into the air or pots shattered. Granted, she still looked incredibly bewildered—terrified, even—but had long given up trying to get any answers out of Hermione.

"Perhaps this will be the one," Ollivander said, holding out yet another wand to Angela. "Rowan and unicorn tail hair. Twelve and three-quarters inches. Very dense and a bit unyielding. I don't often make wands out of rowan—they tend to be unforgiving."

A pleasantly surprised expression appeared on Angela's face when she took the wand, and red sparks flew out of the tip. "Oh, this is different," she said, smiling. "Cool."

"Wonderful," said Ollivander. He looked quite pleased. "Please do not be discouraged should the wand take some time getting used to; again, rowan can make for rather unforgiving wands. You must be confident when you use it."

"Er…okay?" Angela said, quite perplexed. "Thank you…?"

Hermione helped her pay the ten Galleons and seven Sickles for the wand—Angela's difficulty with the money seemed to intrigue Mr. Ollivander—and quickly led her out of the shop. She paused for a moment by the shop window to think—she wasn't quite sure what to do with Angela just yet. At first, Hermione thought it would have been a good idea to drop her off at St. Mungo's to get looked at, but now that Sinclair's name had been thrown into the mix, she was wary of going anywhere near the Ministry or St. Mungo's with her…Then again, perhaps it was a completely different Sinclair altogether, as the Sinclair who attacked her should be in the custody of the US Magical Bureau of Investigations.

"Hey, Hermione, I really appreciate all the help you're giving me," Angela said suddenly, jerking Hermione from her thoughts, "but I really need to get home. Is there an internet café or anything nearby that I could book another ticket at? My cell is gone too, so I'll need a computer to do it…"

And that was when Hermione caught sight of someone lurking in the alley across the road out of the corner of her eye. She peered up to get a better look and felt a chill go down her spine when she briefly met the man's firm gaze. But she had no time to call out and see what he was about: he suddenly turned and fled deeper into the alley, and Hermione thought she heard the faint pop of Disapparition. Without another thought, she took Harry's Galleon from her pocket and changed the serial numbers on the edge to "NEEDTOTALK."

Her unease failed to dissipate when the reply came a minute or so later in the form of Harry's stag Patronus. She didn't even notice the passersby gawking at her or how Angela had jumped in fright as the Patronus opened its mouth to speak.

"I know. Tell me when."

As the stag dissolved into the air, she changed the Galleon's serial numbers to "MYFLAT4DIN" and pocketed it again before turning to a disconcerted Angela. "I don't know where any internet cafés are, but you're welcome to use my computer at home," Hermione said, forcing a smile on her face in spite of her increasing concerns.

"Er…I think I can handle it. I hate to keep imposing on you…" said Angela, averting her gaze from Hermione and edging away a bit. Hermione caught the hidden meaning of her words—Angela seemed to be growing incredibly wary and was likely no longer comfortable being around a stranger who talked to stags made of light.

"It's not a problem at all. I'd let you borrow my cell phone," Hermione said quickly, struggling to find a suitable excuse that would convince her, "but—er—I believe I've left it at home. I live quite close…"

Angela stared at her for a moment—Hermione could almost hear the cogs turning in her head as she weighed her options—before she finally nodded. "I…I guess I could come for a little bit," she said, the suspicion evident in her voice.

She must think I'm trying to kidnap her.

"Great," said Hermione brightly, putting a hand on Angela's shoulder. They would have to Apparate to her balcony since her fireplace was warded to reject strangers…

Without warning the poor girl first, Hermione fixed her mind on her balcony and felt the familiar squeeze of Apparition. As soon as her feet touched down, she turned her wand on Angela and Stunned her mid-scream so that she crumpled into a heap on the floor. Sorry, Hermione thought, grimacing. A noise behind her caused her to wheel around and raise her wand defensively, but she relaxed when she realized it was only Severus lounging in a deck chair with a bowl of ice cream, regarding her with a mixture of amusement and curiosity.

"Is there any reason you brought a guest here, only to Stun her upon arrival?"

A/N: Ice creeaaaam.

So for anyone wondering why I'm updating so fast, it's because I would go nuts at work otherwise. I work at a tier 1 computer help desk while I wait to start grad school and do a lot of writing at work to keep myself from going insane. It's a lot easier than trying to draw while working. Anywho, I might have one more update in me before I leave to hang out in NYC for a week.

For the person who asked about where I got "Takahashi," no, I didn't get it from Ai Takahashi. XD Sorry. Takahashi's a common name.

There will be more Snape in the next chapter. Cross my heart.

Ninja edit: Made a few lines more visually appealing (to me XD).