Another quick chapter. This won't be a habit. :D

Enjoy.

"Granger."

Hermione wasn't listening. She was leaning against a wall, arms crossed, and looking out a nearby window. It was a dreary day; the usual, dreary day. It had been raining since last night and it didn't look as if it was going to let up. There were even darker clouds looming in the distance, which meant more rain. Hermione's eyes slowly found their way down, toward the streets below. Dozens of people were walking back and forth quickly in the downpour under big, black umbrellas and dim, yellow streetlights. Hermione blinked and saw her reflection in the window. She had dark circles under her eyes, her hair was now short, but it was still quite wild. She didn't like her appearance at the moment. It was the first time she had even bothered about her appearance. Since Ron's death, Hermione's day consisted of sleep and food, and the occasional shower, and maybe work when she felt like it. Yesterday was the first day Hermione started feeling like herself. Now, she was noticing how she looked.

It had been about two months since Ron's funeral and about two months since she officially went back to work. It's also been about two months since Harry's enigmatic conversation at the pub. Not that Hermione hadn't heard more. Both Harry and Draco believe Ron's death was the cause of a deliberate set-up. The purpose of the trap was still unknown, but Harry still seem to have reason to believe that whoever started it, wasn't finished. Hermione had to admit she was very skeptical about the whole thing in the beginning, but as she continued working through the paperwork Harry provided; a pattern was definitely beginning to emerge, but it was hard to put her finger on it.

"Granger."

Hermione looked around her quickly. Williamson was standing by her desk, his face grim.

"Robards wants you in his office. He looks pissed."

Hermione nodded her head in acknowledgment, and watched as Williamson walked away. She had a feeling what it was going to be about and readied herself for a firm talking-to. Hermione sighed and moved away from the wall and the window. She made a left and walked down the hall, past desks and multiple offices. As usual, it was quite loud and busy. The Auror Office has always been very selective of whom they would choose, now, even moreso. New potential officers went through Harry's incredibly rigorous training program, exposed to curses, jinxes, and hexes. Everyone was required to be in excellent health and physical shape; every trainee was required to have a fitness test once a week-fail once and they were gone. Ever since Voldemort's fall, the presence of dark witches and wizards had become even more radical-most had scattered, but some formed their own sects in the name of Voldemort, or in order to take his place as "The Dark Lord". They were stupid, unhinged, and completely disorganised-everything Voldermort was not, and unbelievably more dangerous. Over Hermione's head, brightly coloured memos shaped as aeroplanes, birds, and other flying creatures that some of the office clowns would find amusing, like a flying pig, we're zipping in and out of offices, lifts, and rubbish bins. Hurried speeches, rushing figures, advanced dark detectors on every desk-work was the distraction Hermione needed.

Hermione turned the corner and saw Gawain Robards' office, his door open. She took a deep breath before knocking on his door. Robards was staring at a light brown file, his frown deepening as he continued reading. He looked up at Hermione's knock and motioned her to come in. Hermione did, watching his face. His blue eyes looked worse than hers, as if he hadn't slept in days. His face was worn and far from a smile. Relatively young, he had grown much older since he took office-after a year, his hair had flicks of grey, after two, it was positively white.

"Close the door, Granger."

Hermione did and waited. From his seat, Robards closed the file and threw it on the edge of his desk so it was facing Hermione. He pulled out his wand and waved it around the room. Hermione felt a sensation of complete silence. The silent charm. Well, shit, Hermione thought.

"What the hell is this?" Robards said, dangerously quiet.

Hermione said nothing. She hesitated, then picked it up. She fingered its edge, knowing what the file was before even opening it. It's a file that's crossed her desk many times-her desk, Harry's, Draco's...it was a continuation of Ron's case, although, without consent. It wasn't exactly classified, so it wasn't really a secret. Still, it was never suppose to have crossed Robard's desk.

"By the look on your face, you know exactly what it is." Robards continued, now standing and leaning into his desk, staring at Hermione, "What the bloody hell is going on? Why do I have a closed case file on my desk? Why does this case file specifically mention your name, Potter's, and Malofy's?"

"Have you spoken to Harry, sir?" Hermione finally said, looking at Robards, keeping any emotion away from her face.

Robards didn't say anything. He frowned and stood up straight, crossing his arms against his chest. It looked as if he was choosing his words, carefully, "Yes. I have. He believes there is something more about Ron Weasely'scase. He believes there is something...sinister that caused Weasley's accident."

"Harry doesn't believe it was an accident."

"Don't you?" Robards asked, harshly. He took a breath and his face softened, "Look, Ron was an excellent Auror, he was a good man, his death was a terrible tragedy. But it's over. To the best of this office's ability, the scene was investigated. Ten months, this was top priority, ten. We can't continue this. It's becoming an obsession. There are other, vital cases 'round the clock we must keep our focus on, and we need our best for that."

Hermione looked at him, "Ron was one of our best. So is Harry. If Harry believes something else happened, isn't that worth investigating?"

"No." Robards said strongly, "I don't. There is nothing left to investigate. He'll be chasing ghosts and apparitions and its a waste of time."

"There's a pattern, sir." Hermione said, looking at him, "I've seen it. I know there's one."

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, not you too." Robards replied, throwing his hands in the air.

"Is it officially closed, sir?" Hermione asked, staring hard at him.

Robards hesitated, "No, it isn't."

"But no one is investigating it."

"I am investigating it." Robards said with a sigh, and fell heavily into his chair. He placed a hand to his forehead, "I'm working on it. I've been running around in circles with Shacklebolt. The Order has been looking into it. We've top people on this."

Hermione sat into the chair across from Robards desk, "So, why keep us away from it? This was Ron. My fiancé. Harry's best friend."

"That's precisely why you cannot be involved." Robards replied, suddenly sitting up in his desk and looking at her hard, "Both of you are too close. It's become to personal. This discussion is over."

"But sir, if-"

"NO!" Robards shouted, slamming a fist onto his desk. "I will not allow my investigators to run around like chickens with their heads cut off because of this. You'll end up hurt or worse, dead. All three of you are far too important and there are cases that need your attention, now. Is that understood."

Hermione looked at him then slowly stood up, dropping the file back on Robard's desk, "Completely."

Robards took a deep breath and let it out. His voice was softer and quieter, "I repeat, I won't see anymore of my investigators dead. Not on my watch. If I can prevent it, I will. This is off the table. No more."

Hermione nodded her head and turned toward the door. She reached for the handle and turned it, the door opening with a creak and the deadening silence between them lifted. The chaotic sounds of the Auror office blasted through in the office as Hermione made her way out, quickly. She was pissed. She understood Robards' heart was in the right place, and he was right, Ron was dead. Perhaps it was the loyalty Hermione had felt for the years she had known Harry, but she gave him a chance, and she believed there was something darker that was involved in Ron death. They were going to be married, and damn her if she wasn't going to see everything through.

"Hermione."

Hermione turned and saw Harry waiting by her desk. Hermione's temper hadn't receded just yet. She walked past him and sat heavily into her chair, "Harry."

"You alright?" Harry said, reaching for a chair and pushing it beside Hermione's desk.

"Just got yelled at from Robards. Doesn't want us touching the case anymore." Hermione sighed, reaching for her own pile of paperwork, "He's calling you mad, you know."

"Robards is a good man, but blind." Harry said, looking over his shoulder toward Robard's office. He looked back at Hermione, "What did he say?"

"He got his hands on your case file. How, I don't know." Hermione answered Harry's questioning face, "That doesn't matter, anymore. The Order has been looking into it, but that's all he said. Robards doesn't want us working on the case. As we expected."

"Do you have your doubts?" Harry asked.

Hermione stared at him. Since Ron's funeral, Harry had shaved and taken better care of himself. It was as if Ron's case had given him new vigor, more purpose. But Hermione has seen that look before-defiant and proud, almost crazed determination. She hesitated, "Robards is worried."

"I didn't ask about Robards." Harry said, frowning.

Hermione closed his eyes briefly.

"Harry, I do think you have something here. There is a pattern, I can see...something. But-" Hermione said hurriedly, before Harry could reply, "But, you need to be careful. This is your job, your life, and I think it's reasonable to understand where Robards is coming from."

Harry's eyes began to darken, his face becoming angry. He leaned in and began to hiss, "What the hell, Hermione, what the hell are you saying? This is Ron, we're talking about! Ron! Your fiancé, our best friend. Are you just going to-"

"No, of course not, Harry. How dare you!" Hermione hissed back, her temper already on edge was now flowing over, "Of course, I want to see this through, but you can be so bloody narrow-minded and not see everything that's dancing in front of your face. I loved Ron. Ron was everything to me. Don't you dare ever talk to me like that again. Do you understand?"

Harry blinked and Hermione saw him swallow. He looked as if he was about to mumble an apology when a neatly-folded paper floated softly onto Harry's shoulder. Harry snatched it and unfolded it. The look in his eyes changed dramatically and he looked up at Hermione, "Come on."

Hermione watched him stand up and kick the chair he was sitting in back to its original and practically running across the room. Hermione sighed again and stood up, following him quickly. She finally caught up with Harry by the lifts. He was waiting impatiently, small paces across the entrance.

"Harry?" Hermione started just as there was a ding as the lift doors opened. No one was in the lift as the two of them stepped through, which was a bit unusual. The Auror office was not a place that one can apparate into. Aurors' often went to a different department before apparating to their destined location.

"We need to get to the Atrium, Draco is here with Esme." Harry began after the lift doors closed, a cool woman's voice announced their next destination ("The Atrium"), "They have information."

"Hmm. They're working together again, are they?" Hermione said, casually, looking at Harry.

"Yes." Harry smiled slightly, then looked serious, "It also means they've found a lead that's going to help us."

"I see." Hermione responded, her mind racing.

"What?" Harry replied, shortly, staring at her.

"Just keep in mind what I've said, that's all." Hermione said, looking back at him, "I'm with you all the way, but Robards is going to be watching us."

Harry shook his head, "I will do whatever I have to, even if it kills me."

Hermione closed her eyes and sighed softly. The doors to the lift opened ("Welcome to the Atrium") and the two of them stepped out. Hermione and Harry walked together toward the Fountain of Magical Brethren. It was rebuilt after Voldemort's assault on the Ministry-instead of multiple creatures, only a single wizard was standing by himself, his wand high in the air, a stream of water falling from its tip. Down, far below the statue in the Wizengamont main court, was the witch, centaur and house-elf, looking up. A last request from Cornelius Fudge.

Beside the fountain was Draco and Esme, their heads close together, talking. Esme was smiling wildly, being her usual charming self, but the look on Draco's face was something Hermione never often saw; soft and warm. It was amazing the two got along at all. Esme had an unusual history. Her parents were both muggles but died rather abruptly when she was a little girl. Esme was found and adopted by two magical parents. Even as a young girl, Esme was aware of the magical world, which gave rise that perhaps Esme had some magic in her familial history. It turns out, Esme was distantly related to Maxwell Barnett, the author of the first book on Occlumency. Unfortunately, it was very rare if a witch or wizard were ever born in the family. Something Draco Malfoy would have absolutely hated, in another time.

"Draco." Harry said quickly as they approached.

"Hello, you two." Esme said with a smile, looking at them, "Fancy meeting you here."

Malfoy simply nodded.

"What have you found?" Harry asked quickly.

"We need to head to the muggle world." Esme said seriously, looking at Harry, "It'll be safer."

"Let's head to Grimmauld, the living room," Harry said, with a nod, "Then we'll decide where to go from there."

Hermione, Harry, and Draco pulled out their wands. Hermione automatically thought in her head "determination, destination, deliberation". Even after years of doing this, she knew the words as well as she knew her own face. A second later, she landed in Grimmauld Place, Number 12, right in the middle of the darkened living room. Another moment later Harry arrived beside her, then Draco with an arm around Esme. It was rather dusty as the four of them had landed on a large thick carpet. Hermione doubted Harry had much to do with this place. It held many ill-placed memories for him and he hardly cared a fig. Still, he must have been aware of how secure it was, or he wouldn't have ever suggested it.

"Bloody hell." Esme said, steading herself and raising a hand to her head, "I'll never get used to that."

"Shh." Harry placed his wand inside his cloak and walked over to the door to the room, quietly, "There's a number of wards I've placed around here. This room has the least. Still, I'd like to secure the area, anyway. I'm going to walk around and check the place out. Draco, join me? Hermione, can you start some charms here?"

Hermione nodded and watched as Harry walked out of the room, Draco following behind. Hermione started waving her wand, silently rehearsing the wards she remembered. Her thoughts brought her to her seventh year and found the feelings vaguely familiar. She was naive then, naive and young and disorderly. That was a scary time. Now, she was older and wiser, and her magic was stronger, forceful, and far more concentrated. Hermione felt she could take anything on.

"You alright, love?" Esme said, knocking Hermione out of her reverie, "You're far too deep in thought."

Hermione smiled at her friend, "Of course. Just thinking back to darker times."

Esme gave her a knowing grim smile. "I can imagine what coming back here must feel like. What Harry must be feeling."

"It's alright. We were children, then. Now, we're established. We see this everyday." Hermione finished with the final spell, Salvo hexia, before dropping her wand and looking at Esme, "It's a familiar feeling, almost comfortable."

Esme raised an eyebrow, "Comfortable? That's awful, Hermione."

Hermione grinned, "I said 'almost'."

Just then, Harry and Draco walked into the room, looking around the room.

"Thank you, Hermione." Harry said giving her a nod, he turned to Esme, "Everything else looks secure. No one has stepped in here for a long time."

"Alright. Have a look, here. " Esme said, pulling out a thick rolled up parchment from a shoulder bag. She walked over to a dusty table and moved the old books, a black candelabra, and what looked like an old, dehydrated hand, out of the way. Esme didn't seem fazed as she unrolled the paper and placed the books and the candelabra on two corners of the paper. The other three crowded around her to stare. It was a massive and intricate map. Multiple, transparent pages had a section containing various boroughs of a city, together, the pages formed all of London.

"What a wonderful map." Hermione said, staring at it, amazed, "I've never seen such detail before, even on Dumbledore's knee."

"Yes, muggle-made." Esme said, looking at it proud, then giving Draco a wink, "Even we have our moments."

Draco grunted, but said nothing.

"What are you showing us?" Harry said, firmly.

"In mind, we've some key destinations where our contacts can meet us. Here, here, here, and here." Esme said, point to various locations around the city, "They are not the most safe places for muggles, but I figure with three powerful wizards, all involved will be just fine."

"So four contacts?" Harry said, leaning down and staring at the map, "Any of them reliable?"

"Draco and I believe all of them are reliable, all with different information. But-" Esme started, looking at him and crossing her arms, "-they're jumpy and easily mistrustful. For good reason. I never thought I'd come back to this old life and I blame you, Harry."

Harry didn't say anything.

"How soon can we meet with them?" Hermione asked, looking at her.

"You are not." Malfoy responded, calmly.

"What?" Harry asked, swiftly, looking between Draco and Esme.

"I agree. We are the only people our contacts would recognise." Esme continued, frowning, "Which means, only Draco and myself will speak with them. We know their timetables and their habits. Any sort of hiccup and they'll run."

Harry didn't like this, neither did Hermione. She spoke up, first, "This isn't safe. You just told us how dangerous this can be."

"This is not the first time I've done this. It was my livelihood, remember?"

"Not good enough." Hermione said, glaring at her.

"You'll be there, I promise. But, " Esme sighed, "you'll have to stay hidden. Draco will be with me, remember?"

"What about Death Eaters? Or whatever the bloody hell they call themselves, now." Harry started, straightening up and looking at Esme, angrily, "They'll know. They seem to know everything, don't they?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if they do. Which is why you're coming along." Esme said, "You'll have to do your charms or wards, or whatever you did to this house. Is that possible?"

"Can't Draco do that?"

Malfoy shook his head, "No one knows I'm a wizard and we'd like to keep it that way. The less they see, the better."

"What if one of us stood in your place?" Harry continued, looking at Malfoy, "Polyjuice Potion-"

"No." Hermione said quickly and sighed. The other three looked at her surprised, Harry most of all, "That potion takes too long and if these contacts are as uneasy as you say, any general habits not familiar with Draco will make them suspicious."

"Right." Esme said, giving Hermione a small smile, "Exactly. Besides, both of you know what to look for, it's your job."

Hermione stared at Harry, he was clearly thinking; any thoughts to somehow implant himself into the final conversation. Hermione knew he always wanted to be in the thick of things, but he had to learn to trust, as difficult as it was. She never truly believed Harry trusted Draco completely. Honestly, it was difficult for Hermione sometimes, too. Perhaps Malfoy knew this. Either way, it seemed out of their hands now.

"Alright." Harry said finally. "When's the first meet?"

"I know a smuggler who used to work for one of Voldermort's followers. He's called Parvan Weatherly."

"Never heard of him." Hermione replied.

"He was a snatcher, or at least, paid to be one." Esme said, pointing to a section on her map in Islington, "He's a con-artist and a thief. But he's no coward and he can be a good source, for a price. He'll be here, on a street called Highbury Cres. There's a park on that street which will be holding an annual faire. All I have to do is confirm."

"What does he want?" Hermione asked.

"Information. Nothing I can't handle." Esme said, looking at her.

"Is he a squib?" Hermione asked her.

Esme shook her head, "No, actually, just a muggle. As far as he knew, he was simply smuggling goods between cities. He didn't know who he was initially working for until the muggle police exposed Pyrites. He still doesn't know Pyrites was a wizard."

"'Pyrites...I've heard that name before." Harry started.

"One of the original Death Eaters." Hermione said quickly, " Muggle police detained him for being a serial killer, but then he disappeared from his holding cell. His current whereabouts are unknown."

"When is our...your...first meet?" Harry said, looking at Esme.

"Weatherly's waiting on guard at the moment. I'd presume this coming weekend, when it's most busy over there. It'll be during the day, crowds are preferable for him."

Harry shook his head, "I don't like this. The damned Death Eaters don't give a shit about how many people they kill or where they do it. It's a perfect setting."

"The department has been at its peak for years, now, ever since Robards took over. Everyone is working 'round the clock." Hermione told Harry, but he shook his head still. She continued, "The dark wizards are unorganised. We have the upper hand."

"They are also not Death Eaters, anymore." Malfoy supplied, looking dark, "They're a new generation of dark wizards, those that do not have a plan."

"Making them more dangerous." Harry argued.

"And messy." Esme countered. Harry stared at her. Esme sighed and continued, "I was working underground for a long time, remember, among both the old and new generations. These...children...they do not have the discipline. Hermione's right, at the moment, your department is keeping them at bay."

"For the moment." Harry conceded, his eyebrows narrowing, "Alright, alright, we can argue about this later. For now, let's keep everyone unharmed."

"I trust all of you to keep us safe. To keep me safe." Esme looked up at Draco and he nodded with the faintest of smiles. Satisfied, Esme looked between Harry and Hermione, "This'll work. Shall I confirm?"

Harry hesitated, then, "Do it."

There was a small mobile cafe that was set up on the fairegrounds with tables and chairs. Hermione and Harry found themselves sitting by one of the tables, their senses high. They had already set up a Muggle-Repelling Charm, a shield charm, and for good measure, a disillusionment charm. Hermione could see Esme and Draco Malfoy close together, relaxed and talking, as if they were visitors enjoying the faire. She had already placed a small shield charm on them, but Esme didn't want anymore, save suspicions be raised. They were very good actors, Hermione thought, or they simply were very comfortable with each other. The corners of Malfoy's mouth seemed to twitch more often, anyway. Hermione smiled to herself then changed her focus to others around her. Her ears were perked up, listening to conversations, waiting for certain keywords. She raised her wand every so often focusing on what she thought was a suspicious looking individual, but nothing yet. She knew Harry was doing the same, but he was far from being as patient as she was.

"Look." Harry suddenly leaned forward and whispered, "I think he's arrived."

Hermione followed Harry's eyes and saw Esme and Draco sitting closely beside each other on a bench, Malfoy's arm around her shoulders. Another man arrived, wearing a track suit and dark sunglasses. With one hand he placed a bottle of water on the bench beside him, then raised one foot on the bench as if bending down to tie his shoelaces. Both Hermione and Harry raised their wands and focused on the three of them. Hermione was pleasantly surprised to see Esme in her element. While still acting as a loving couple, Esme and Malfoy seem to barely move their mouths. Weatherly was the same.

"'Ey, love, Malfoy." Weatherly started, as he untied, then tied his shoe.

"Weatherly, you alright?" Esme started, seemingly playing with Draco's hair, but her attention on her informant.

"Fine, love." Weatherly said, now moving so that he was sitting on the bench, one hand opening the water bottle and taking a gulp. He let out a satisfied exhale and spoke a bit louder, "Don wi' vat paper, mate?"

Draco reached on his lap and handed a newspaper over. Weatherly took it and opened the paper on his lap. He continued to look through it as he spoke, "Ah, Esme, yer the best."

"So, what's new?" Esme started, leaning into Draco.

"Down to business, eh?" Weatherly said with a chuckle. He continued staring at the paper, switching pages every so often, "I 'eard by the docks in Wales, a man was comin' in by ship. Smugglin somefin', dunno wha' i' was."

"This helps us how?" Esme asked, her head now on Draco's shoulder.

Weatherly turned a page, and straightened up his paper, "Recognised one of the men thas helpin' wiv a boa', you see? He don' remembe' me, bu' I know 'im. Not a goo' guy. Anyway, he's been mentionin' a name, Riddle."

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances before their eyes turned back to the conversation. Weatherly continued, "There's some talk abou' a house up in Li'le Hangleton. Apparen'ly it's been abandoned for years. A perfec' place for drops. There ain't many switches, bu' I know these smugglers, and they're damn good at they jobs, love."

"'Riddle'." Malfoy said casually, "Why Little Hangleton? It's far out of the way, isn't?"

"There's somfin' funny about 'at house, haunted. That bloke I used ta work for, Pyrites, he was held up dere for awhile. He's since been gone. Don' know where."

"Okay." Esme said, smiling at Malfoy, his face mimicking hers, "Anything else?"

"Tha's all I know," Weatherly said, standing up and walking toward the rubbish bin to drop the paper, "Thanks for this, dove. You be careful, yea? Malfoy?"

"You, too, Par." Esme said and sighed, waiting for Weatherly as he continued on his run. Neither she nor Malfoy moved until Weatherly was far from view.

Harry and Hermione lowered their wands and stared at each other, neither was sure what to say.

"Fuck!" Harry hissed angrily, pacing around the room of Grimmuld Place Number 12, "Fuck. Fuck."

"Harry-" Hermioned started, but then stopped. There was no point in trying to stop him, he needed to get it all out. Esme and Draco were also in the room, watching Harry. Draco showed no emotion on his face but Esme stared, concerned.

"Fuck, Hermione." Harry said, finally slowing down. He turned to look at her, his face livid, "I thought we were done. I thought we were done with this fucking bastard. This fucking family! I thought we were done."

Hermione waited until Harry stopped cursing and pacing. He finally settled by leaning on the table, his arms crossed, his eyes staring hard at the floor. His jaw was working and a strong vein was pumping on his neck.

"Look, Harry, we might be." Hermione said, gently, moving over to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. Harry let her, but he didn't seem any calmer, "That's just one lead, it might be completely useless, just a bunch of criminals taking advantage of an abandoned house. We have three more contacts, right?"

Esme nodded her head, "Yes, and we can do all of this again. It worked perfectly, today."

"We'll take precautions, anyway." Harry finally said, looking up again. He was still angry, but his voice a dangerous steady calm. He closed his eyes briefly and opened them, thinking, "We need to stay vigilant. Just because we have the upper hand now, doesn't mean we'll have the upper hand tomorrow."

"I'll set up the next contact." Malfoy replied, softly, "It might be a few weeks. He can be...difficult to get a hold of."

Hermione stretched and yawned. She was sitting on her couch, staring at the files in front of her. A bottle and glass of wine sitting beside them, the bottle empty. Hermione looked up to see the time and saw how late it was. Hermione knew better, but she was still hoping Ron would be by the couch, kiss her on the head, and tell her to come to bed. Hermione gathered her knees under her and sighed as she reached for glass and drained it.

"That bottle's finished, love." Esme said, calling to her from the kitchen, "Want another?"

"Uh...go on, then." Hermione said, not wanting to sleep just yet.

Hermione saw Esme come by again, another bottle of wine in her hand. She sat beside Hermione and opened the bottle with a corkscrew. The bottle popped open and she began to pour, "You need a break, love. Relax."

"I know." Hermione said, rubbing her eyes. She reached for her now filled glass and clinked with Esme before taking a sip, "You ready for tomorrow?"

Tomorrow night, the four of them were going to meet up with one of Draco's contacts, at the Isle of Eyes, by the bridges. Well, two of them, Harry and Hermione will stay in the background as planned.

Esme inhaled deeply and looked at her over her own glass, "I suppose. I don't like this one."

"Why?" Hermione asked her, eyebrows furrowing.

"The contact is alright, I suppose, but the place, it's fidgety and I'm not sure if we can trust it. Draco trusts his contact, at least a little bit, but...I dunno, I don't like it. The area we're meeting in is a place full of muggle gangs that fight for territory at night. It's...an unusual place."

"You think it's unsafe?"

"Well, all of this is unsafe," Esme replied, frowning, "but it feels like a trap."

"Why didn't you say anything before?" Hermione said, looking at her.

"Because, I trust Draco. This is his contact, and he's never failed before. It might just be simple paranoia. It has been awhile since I've done this." Esme's eyes grew dark, "Bloody Harry Potter."

Hermione smiled at her, "You're quite upset with him, aren't you?"

"Yes." Esme blurted out forcefully, "Yes, I am."

Hermione laughed.

"I got out of this business for a reason. A lot of my contacts have disappeared, and word on the street, is that I'm not to be trusted." Esme sighed as she drained her glass. Hermione reached over for the bottle and poured her friend another.

"Truthfully, you're not."

"Shut up, you." Esme said, glaring at her, "Do you realise how difficult it's been for me to get back in the game? I'm with Draco, which helps a little, but it also makes more shrewd people cautious around him. Which hurts him. Luckily, Malfoy knows how to keep a straight face and can tell a very convincing story."

"I bet you like working with him again." Hermione said, teasingly.

"Of course, I do." Esme said, looking at her, "I've had a crush on him since I met him, that bastard. You know that."

"Anything come of it?"

"No, sadly not. I think he's shy. Or cautious."

"He isn't like he used to be." Hermione said, thoughtfully, "He wouldn't have given you the time of day. Hated you, even."

"Well, I'm used to the hate part, but he won't even give me that!"

They laughed.

The two continued their conversations until Esme had to go home. Hermione was still up, hours after Emse left. Finally, she stretched and stood up, looked at the messy table for a moment, then walked away, she'd clean up tomorrow; she was far to drunk. Hermione went into her bedroom, walked across it and turned into her bathroom. She leaned into the shower and turned on the faucet. She then undressed, throwing her dirty clothes aside before pulling down her towel from its rack and placing it over the shower door. Hermione enjoyed the hot water falling down her back. The shower was a place of solace for her, it was where she did her best thinking. And think she did, all the time: about Ron, about work, about Ron...Finished, Hermione dressed into sleep clothes and crawled into bed, missing Ron. Without meaning to, she cried herself to sleep.