AN: There be lemons ahead. But sometimes lemons are still sweet.

Everything happened so quickly.

On the first Monday in June Kingsley Shacklebolt pulled her into his office alone after their weekly department meeting. He sat her down and explained to her that the ministry house elves had, over the previous six months, all disappeared. One hundred and seven house elves. Gone.

On Tuesday, Penelope Clearwater showed up in her office- sans appointment- and pleaded with her to reconsider giving Justin Finch-Fletchey the information on her census project. When she declined, yet again, she asked how strong her warding was.

On Wednesday, Thorfinn Rowle kissed her in the middle of the Leaky Cauldron. When Ron and George tried to floo into her home, they found themselves dumped back in their own fireplace. Hermione, for the first time in two years, had shut off her floo.

Thorfinn Rowle, she was entirely sure, was going to be the spectacular mistake she one day told her granddaughters about. He was a brute. A literal Viking- his aunt had spent an entire Sunday tracing their family tree for her. He was an ex-quiddich player who had spent time in Azkaban for arson, and three months on she still wasn't sure what- if anything- he did for a living.

And, to ice the cake of bad ideas, she was currently straddling his lap on her small sofa, with her fingers knotted in his hair and his lips practically attached to hers. Her favorite red skirt, an A-line design that normally fell just past her knees, was slowly being pushed to an indecent height by a pair of large warm hands on her thighs. She untangled her hands from the blonde hair and they traveled to the hem of his gray jumper. She felt his fingers tracing along the edge of her knickers and she sighed into his mouth.

There were too many clothes between them. She could feel his hardness beneath her, and she was more than willing and ready. He nipped at her neck and she arched back.

Suddenly a loud crack made the amorous couple jump and separate their hands, though Hermione remained firmly on Throfinn's lap. They both looked around, trying to find the source of the sound, but it appeared as they were still the only people in the small cottage.

From behind the sofa, came a small sob.

"Burl is most sorry, Master Thorfinn!" Hermione leaned over the blonde wizard's shoulder and found a familiar house elf near to tears. "Mistress Haddie sent Burl."

Hermione was off Thorfinn's lap and around the couch before he had a chance to stop her. "Oh Burl," she cooed, pulling the normally grumpy house elf into her arms, "What in the world happened?"

The house elf hiccuped and sniffled, in an attempt to stem a steady flow of tears. "Mistress Haddie said Master and Miss must come with Burl now. Pip has gone missing!" The admission of his fellow house elf being found missing sent him into another round of hysterics.

Hermione scooped the elf into her arms- something she knew he would never allow under normal circumstances- and turned to find her paramour already standing, holding her black flats in one hand and both their outer robes draped over his arm. "I will apperate us," he stated, with no room for discussion.

Hermione nodded and circled the room, slipping her shoes on one at a time. "Burl," she spoke to the elf buried in her shoulder, "Is Haddie at home?"

He moaned and nodded. "Mistress made Burl leave her alone!" The witch shushed him and brought his head back to her shoulder, while looking up at the blonde wizard.

Before taking his hand to apperate she caught sight of small white flames flickering around his wrist. "Just a moment," he growled between clenched teeth. "Let me take a deep breath."

He ended up needing three deep breaths, but as soon as the flames were gone, he pulled the witch and elf to his chest and with a booming crack, they were gone.

Hadassah Travers was sitting on a small bed tucked in the corner of her walk-in closet. She held a well worn pillowcase and what appeared to be the remains of a small knit blanket. She was silent, staring almost through the far wall, and it concerned Hermione more than if she had been sobbing. Setting Burl down, he ran to his mistress and burrowed himself under her arm.

"Aunt Haddie," Thorfinn crouched in front of his aunt, and his presence made the closet quite crowded. "What happened to Pip?"

She took a shuddering breath and finally looked towards the wizard. "I had wanted him to rest after tea," tears started dripping from her blue eyes, "But he insisted on putting the chickens away. When he didn't come in right away, Burl went to go check on him." Burl let loose another mournful moan. "He was gone. This was stuck to the front door."

Haddie pulled a piece of paper out from beneath the pillowcase in her hands and passed it to her nephew while Hermione looked over his shoulder. It had an emblem on the top that consisted of a dove atop two crossed wands. Beneath the printed emblem was one sentence written in an elegant flowing script.

"Slavery will not be tolerated."

Hermione reached out and managed to grab the paper before Thorfinn's arm burst into flames. Taking the note with her, she stepped back into the bedroom proper and pulled out her wand.

"What are you doing?" Thorfinn asked from the closet doorway.

Hermione closed her eyes. "At the moment, I'm going to think of an absurdly happy memory so I can send a patronus to the ministry's head auror. Then, I'm going to call upon the teachings of my muggle gran and soldier on." She took a deep breath and with a twirl of her wand a silvery otter burst forth. It circled the bedroom once before shooting out the closest window and disappearing into the darkening sky. "Haddie," she called gently, "Harry Potter will be on his way soon with a team of aurors. I'm going to need you to open your floo for them." She took a deep breath herself. "Thor and I will go put the kettle on for tea. Can you come down when you're ready?"

Standing from Pip's bed, Haddie nodded. "Stiff upper lip and all that rot, right dear?"

Hermione took Thorfinn's hand and led him from the room. "We'll just be in the kitchen when you're ready."

Thorfinn stood behind Hermione as she set the kettle on the stove and lit the hob with her wand. When his arms came around her and his chin settled atop her head, she let lose a deep breath and leaned back into him. "Care to tell me what that bit of wandwork back there was?" Thorfinn's voice was gravely and she thought she heard a bit of admiration in it. "Because it looked to me like a fully formed patronus went flying out my aunt's bedroom window."

Hermione turned in his arms and burrowed her face in his shoulder. "You mean that's not a charm you get a lot of use out of?" His deep laugh rumbled from in his chest and she looked up at him. "It's faster than a floocall. It'll find him anywhere and relay the message I sent with it."

The kettle started to whistle and she took it off the heat. The hulking wizard stayed behind her. She felt him gently pull her hair back from her neck and a kiss landed just below her ear. "Care to share what that happy moment was?"

"Oh yes, Hermione, I would love to hear that." Harry's voice carried from the kitchen entryway and with a squeak Hermione jumped and pushed Thorfinn a respectable distance away.

"Harry!" she nearly shouted, "I didn't know how long it would take you!" Her cheeks were blushing wildly and she hoped she could pass it off as heat from the kettle. Haddie was standing beside him with an all too familiar smirk on her face, even if her eyes were still red-rimmed from crying. "I see you've met Mrs. Travers." She cleared her throat and headed for the cupboard she knew held the teapots and cups. "I'll just get the tea ready."

Haddie, Hermione, Harry, Thorfinn, and two other ministry aurors whose names Hermione didn't catch sat around the Travers kitchen table. Three more aurors were inspecting the surrounding property and casting a multitude of ministry-level security wards. Harry had taken custody of "the note" as Hermione had described it and after casting multiple stasis and preservation charms on it, slid it into his briefcase. Haddie was the only one drinking her tea. Under the edge of the table, her empty hand clung to Hermione's.

"Mrs. Travers," Harry began gently, "Is there anyone you can think of who would want to harm your house elf? Had he ever crossed anyone himself?"

Haddie only shook her head as tears came back to her eyes.

Hermione answered for her. "Harry, Pip is almost two hundred years old. He could barely cross the road, let alone a wizard." She squeezed the elder witch's hand again. "Besides, he was a nanny elf. His main responsibility was caring for children."

Hermione glanced across the table when she heard one of the unnamed aurors sniffle. "Did they really nab an ancient nanny elf?" He wiped a tear from his eye. "I'd be gutted if someone did something to Compy."

Harry quirked an eyebrow at his coworker. "Really, McTavish?"

"What?" he asked. "Didn't take me for a softy?" He shrugged his shoulders. "Nanny elves wouldn't hurt a fly. Compy is better than any old granny you could ever meet. Whoever took Pip Travers didn't do it because of something the elf did."

Slowly but surely, three sets of auror-trained eyes turned to the flaxen-haired wizard on the far side of Hermione Granger.

"No." Hermione's voice was firm. "If they wanted to attack him, he has his own elves. This isn't a personal issue." She shook her head. "Most definitely not. Harry, has Kingsley reached out to the auror department?"

Harry flipped through his notes. "No? Why would he?"

Hermione scowled. "He told me just the other day that a hundred and seven house elves have gone missing from the Ministry. This isn't a coincidence. Someone is targeting elves." She rubbed her eyes and Haddie reached over and put a hand on her shoulder. "It's getting late."

Harry nodded and motioned for the other aurors to stand. "The rest of the team should be finished warding the property by now, Mrs. Travers. The Auror department would appreciate it if you could come by the ministry tomorrow to give an official statement."

Haddie nodded. "Of course, Auror Potter. I will be there promptly at nine."

With a nod, handshakes to the blondes, and a quick hug to Hermione, Harry made his way to the floo with his fellow aurors.

Hermione began clearing the dishes from the table. Thorfinn stood and rubbed her arm. Leaning close to her, he spoke quietly to her. "I'm going to see if I can bribe Aunt Haddie to bed. Don't you disappear on me." Hermione nodded and the wizard turned away from her, ushering his aunt out of the kitchen.

When he came back down, Hermione was rinsing the last of the teacups and setting them to dry beside the sink. "How is she feeling?" she asked, turning to face him and leaning back against the sink.

Thorfinn shrugged. "She wouldn't let Burl leave. I plied her with a calming draught and promised we wouldn't leave right away." He took a deep breath and fell into a chair. "She's nervous. Scared." He ran his fingers through his hair and looked up at the witch. "Do you think it really was a purposeful attack on my family?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. I think there's something else going on." she crossed the kitchen and settled herself in his lap. "The minister has been trying to keep the ministry's elves disappearing under wraps. I have to wonder if any other elves have gone missing before this, and just weren't reported."

Thorfinn buried his nose in her curls and hummed in agreement. They sat together in the silence for a few minutes. Outside, a cow mooed in the barn and an owl answered back. In the kitchen of Haddie Travers, two unlikely friends sat together, lost in their own thoughts. With a deep sigh Hermione broke the silence.

"I should be getting home," she mumbled quietly. "I'm sure I will have to go into the office tomorrow after all this hubub."

The blonde's strong arms tightened around her middle and he pulled his nose out of her neck. "I'm not sure I like the idea of you going home alone," he grumbled.

She had the gall to laugh and pull his arms from around her middle. "You're just sore we were interrupted earlier."

"That too," he shrugged.

Hermione sighed again, brushing a lock of blonde hair from Thorfinn's face. "Go home," she told him, "Go home and check on your own elves. I don't know what I would do if something happened to Fratz." Standing, she pulled her out her wand. "Double your wards. I'll get ahold of you tomorrow." With a quick peck to his cheek, she was gone with a soft pop.

Hermione had already been in the office for almost two hours when Florence came in and yelped in surprise to see her boss. Her normally immaculate office was a disaster. Three small ministry owls sat on the back of her guest chair and two more perched precariously on the edge of her desk. She wore a pair of reading glasses balanced on the end of her nose.

"My goodness," Florence breathed out, "You gave me quite a fright!" Pulling off her outer robes, she carefully made her way to Hermione's desk, looking over her shoulder at the papers scattered about. "What in the world are you working on that was so important you came in to the office?"

Hermione handed her a replica of the note left on Haddie's door. "A house elf was stolen last night. I know I've seen this emblem before. Check all correspondence and see if you can find a match." Florence nodded and headed back to her own desk. "And Flo?"

Florence paused in the doorway. "Yes, Hermione?"

"Reach out to Pucey. Tell him to increase his wards." The well-coiffed blonde nodded again and disappeared around the corner out of sight.

When Haddie finished her appointment with the Auror department she made the trek to Hermione's small office. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her hair was pulled back in a lank plait. Upon Thorfinn's insistence, Burl remained safely contained in the ministry wards at home. Florence ushered her into Hermione's office and closed the door quietly on her way out.

Hermione was genuinely surprised to find Thorfinn didn't accompany her to the ministry. Haddie brushed off the younger woman's concern. "He had work to do," she explained, "And it's not like I'm a frail old spinster who needs an escort everywhere I go."

The brunette blushed, properly chastised. "I'm sorry, that's not what I meant-"

"Oh I know, dear girl." The older woman waved away her embarassment, then checked her watch and noted the time. "It's nearly noon. I arranged to meet with Wisteria Parkinson for lunch. Would you care to join us?"

Hermione glanced heavily at her desk. With a swish of her wand, the papers piled themselves into a deep drawer by her leg, which she proceeded to ward tightly. Sighing, she stood up and held out her hand. "I suppose a bite to eat would do me some good."

Sunday found Hermione up before the sun rose over the lake near her cottage. Tossing on a pair of snug cropped jeans, a long-sleeved top, and her favorite pair of flats, she grabbed her keys from the hook by the door and headed to her car. With a wave of her wand behind her, her home's wards were set and she was cruising off through the trees.

When she pulled through the gate in front of Thorfinn Rowle's Tudor-style home Hermione felt the wards sluice over her skin like icy water. In combination with the quickly warming summer day, it did not feel terribly uncomfortable. She smiled at his careful precautions.

Faster than she expected, the blonde wizard came bursting from the front of his home, his hair wild, shirtless, with one hand fully engulfed in hot white flames. As if expecting him, Hermione was sitting daintily on the bonnet of her car. She passed him a dazzling smile.

"Thorfinn Rowle," she called out, "please tell me you were not about to throw a fireball at your girlfriend like a complete barbarian."

"Hermione Granger," he countered, putting the flames out with a shake of his hand, "what makes you think I would want to call someone my girlfriend who throws around words like "barbarian"?"

The brunette shrugged and leaned back on her car, sunning herself. "You ought to hurry and put some clothes on if we're going to make it to Haddie's in time for brunch."

"Witch," he growled, "you already woke me up from some very pleasant dreams. You best get your arse over here and make up for it."

She snickered and looked at her watch. "I'm sure it'll take you a good forty-five minutes to make your hair look pretty, Haddie's is another hour from here, and I need to find a coffee shop on the way. You really ought to hurry." She hopped off the car and leaned in the passenger side door, pulling out a couple bags. "I have some things for Fritz and Fratz anyway."

Her words eventually caught up to his sleep-addled brain. "Grange, you can not think I'm getting into that death trap."

"Well of course you are," she rolled her eyes, "and it's perfectly safe. I've been licensed for ages. I take the kids out in it all the time."

"It's muggle."

"Just like your telly, and you love that."

"It's a tin can on wheels."

"It's a mini Cooper. They're a British icon."

"It's not safe."

"You jump on a broom fifty feet in the air and have angry bowling balls thrown at you for fun. You don't get a say in what's safe."

With a huff, he turned around and headed back inside.

"Forty-five minutes, pretty boy!" Hermione smiled to herself and made her way into the home, where she was promptly greeted by a small elf dressed in a kitchen towel, a small belly pushing outwards against the pumpkins embroidered on the middle. The witch leaned down and hugged the elf. "I have some gifts for the baby," she told her, and they made their way back towards the small room off the kitchen.

Halfway to Haddie's, Thorfinn asked to drive.

Monday brought sixteen Pureblood scions to Hermione's office. Five were distraught over missing elves. Eight wanted Auror presence at their homes. Two wanted to know what exact role her census had in house elf disappearances. One was Adrian Pucey, too busy buttering up Florence to pay Hermione any mind.

"Slavery will be abolished."

"Slaves are not family."

"Slavery is not a standard."

"We will be a generation of freedom."

"Wizards should master nothing but their own magic."

Every single one clearly written beneath the dove and crossed wands. Hermione rubbed her eyes as she glared at the papers on her desk. She had seen the logo before. She just couldn't remember where. With a quiet growl, she dropped her head to her desk. Florence had left over an hour ago and the office was silent. It had been a hellish day, but she couldn't bring herself to pack her bag and head home.

In the distance, the lift dinged. A few moments later, there was a quiet knock on her open office door. "Hmm," a deep voice sounded, "Here I was, wanting to selfishly feed the witch who claims she's my girlfriend dinner, and she's had the gall to pass out on her desk in a heap. The manners people have these days."

Hermione only groaned from beneath her pile of hair.

"Come now," he continued on, stepping fully into the office and turning one of the matching guest chairs into a table with the wave of his wand, "I have it on good authority that you're a sucker for Welsh rarebit, and I may have brought the best in all the British Isles."

Hermione scoffed, and lifted her head. "I call bollocks. The only edible welsh rarebit comes from the Three Broomsticks and-"

The blonde lifted the brown takeaway bag, emblazoned with Rosemerta's logo.

Pursing her lips, Hermione forced herself not to pout. "If you brought that without a Scotch egg or two I'll have to reconsider this farce of a relationship."

He only laughed and set the bag on the transfigured table. "Didn't I say "good authority"? The same kind of authority who had the arrogance to send a giant goddamn deer patronus at me in the middle of a meeting." He rolled his eyes and Hermione stifled a giggle.

"Harry gets upset when it's called a deer," she half-heartedly scolded as she pulled her chair around to the front of the office. "He wants everyone to call it a STAG."

Thorfinn looked at her flatly. "It's a deer. A TALKING deer that nearly made my clients shit themselves." Out from the bag he pulled two paper plates and half a dozen containers of food.

Hermione snatched a scotch egg before he could plate it up. "I can't believe you went all the way to Hogsmeade just for takeaway."

He laughed. "Darling, you're a catch, and floo travel takes no time, but I didn't GO all the way there." He fished the plastic flatware from the bottom of the bag. "My office is there."

Hermione paused and blinked at him. "Your… office?"

"Why do you look like you're trying to solve an arithmancy problem?"

"I just," she shrugged, "I didn't expect you to have an office anywhere."

The blonde quirked an eyebrow and leaned back in his seat. "Hermione Granger," he drawled, "Do you think I don't work?"

She had the good sense to look embarrassed as her face flushed. "I mean," she stuttered, "do you have a job?"

"Of course I do!" The wizard seemed only slightly insulted. "What do you take me for, a Malfoy?" His shoulders puffed out even more in resistance to the possibility of being compared to the snobbish dandy of a man.

"Well I don't know," the witch huffed in defence. "I mean, you show up at all hours. Like ten am. On a Tuesday."

His pomp deflated slightly and he shrugged, dishing up dinner for the woman opposite him. "Come now, Grange, dig in." He handed her a plate of food. "Remember, we're not all tied down to Ministry rules. Or hours."

Hermione tucked into the plate of food and let loose a sigh. "Well, what do you do, then?"

He shrugged and opened up the last container on the table and revealed a steaming shepherds pie. "I'm a realtor. I broker wizarding real estate deals."

"Wizarding real estate? Really?" She sounded disbelieving. "That's a thing?"

"Of course it is. There's always a market for housing in fully-magic towns and communities." She raised her eyebrows at him. "Think of it this way, Grange, after all that trouble you and your lot caused in school-"
"Me and my lot?! I'll have you know-"

"Exactly." He seemed unconcerned about her huff. "How many parents think it's jolly good to ship their kids off year after year? Hogsmeade is booming. June thru September our company gets slammed." He paused and took a bit of his own dinner. "Families move to Hogsmeade so the kids can get the education they need and still be home at night. Even if "home" is a two bedroom flat off the main drag. Then, after graduation, yours truly helps them sell it to the family of an incoming first year."
Her jaw dropped. "And you bank the commission. Again."

"Well, a man has to put fish on the table, doesn't he?" Thorfinn smiled smugly.

Hermione eyed him and picked at her own dinner. "And how long have you been doing this?"

He thought about it. "Since not long after those bad years. So, going on four years now? Something closer to that." The hulking blonde focused on his dinner and they fell into a comfortable silence.

Poking at the last soggy bites of her food, Hermione looked at him from the corner of her eye. He had finished long before her and was sprawled out in the chair, his feet propped up on her desk again. He had folded his arms behind his head, and his eyes were closed. He looked utterly content.

"I call them "bad years" too," she muttered, almost to herself.

He slowly opened his eyes and arched a single blonde eyebrow.

"I mean," she stuttered, "I know they're not the same thing you went through," she took a deep breath and willed the dampness in her eyes to stay away, "but I had some awfully shit years in there myself."

The blonde wizard slowly reached out and took Hermione's fidgeting hand in his own larger one. A calloused thumb gently stroked the back of her hand as he closed his eyes again, for all the world looking like he hadn't heard her.

She thought he hadn't, when his gravelly voice almost startled her. "Ruddy good thing they didn't last forever."

...

The towering wizard with a wild mane of blonde hair and his small brunette counterpart fell out of the floo into his dark home without letting go of one another. Her well-worn satchel of work papers and spare pencils hit the carpeted floor with a thud and she laughed.

"Thorfinn Rowle," she murmured against his lips, "this is a terrible idea."

He growled in response and simply lifted her into the air, encouraging her thighs to circle his waist. Moving through the room, she let out a huff when he backed her into a wall and his lips moved along the column of her neck.

"Great idea," he cooed. "Bloody magnificent. Perfect. Genius idea." His lips moved along her neck, first biting, then soothing, distracting her enough that he quickly had her blouse almost fully unbuttoned.

His fingers, rough from years of quiddich, skirted over the edge of her simple nude bra.

Suddenly, he pulled back from her slightly. In the soft light filtering through the large glass windows, he stared down intently at her. A few seconds went by, and he suddenly took a step back and lowered her down to stand on her own feet.

Beneath his almost angry scrutiny, Hermione began to pull her shirt closed.

"No." His voice was deep and demanding. "You have a glamour on." He could barely see the flush burst on her cheeks. "Why do you have a glamour on?"

She shrugged and held her shirt closed across her chest. "I was in a war," she barely whispered. "Some scars can't be healed, even with the best potions."

With an alarming fierceness, Thorfinn reached out to her cheek and pulled her in for a bruising kiss. "We will take this upstairs," he started clearly, "and you will remove any glamours you felt the need to hide yourself behind." His thumb grazed her cheekbone and she leaned into the touch, closing her eyes. "We all have scars," he admitted, and before he could say anymore she pressed her lips to his own.

When they came up for air, she smiled at him in the twilight. "Thorfinn Rowle, I believe you said something about upstairs."

...

When her glamours came off, the moon filtered in through a large window and lit her almost completely as she laid back in Thorfinn's bed. A nervous flush traveled down her neck and across the tops of her breasts. In the low light, the starburst scar on the crest of her right breast looked almost purple. Without her ever-present glamours, she felt the jagged letters on her left arm even more fully.

Standing at the foot of the bed, the Viking wizard who had been ever-present in her dreams for months began to slowly remove his own clothes. Pale skin with a light coating of blonde hair showed first. Broad shoulders tapered into a trim waist with clearly defined abdominals.

Hermione's bare legs rubbed together of their own volition, attempting to satisfy the curl of heat burning deep in her belly. Thorfinn almost growled at the sight. His trousers soon followed his shirt, leaving his excitement clearly tenting his boxers. Leaning forward, he boxed the small witch in between his arms as he leaned forward and took a hardened nipple in his mouth.

Hermione groaned and arched her back. "Thorfinn Rowle," she barely breathed, "if you think you're going to call me your girlfriend, you better stop teasing me and fuck me until I believe it."

His mouth let her nipple go with an audible pop, and he slid more fully up the bed so he could kiss her again. "What the witch wants," he murmured into her neck, dropping little love bites along the way, "the witch shall receive."

A small elf popped silently into the large Master bedroom and with a snap of his fingers, the curtains on the window slid open, bathing the room in early morning light. A wave of his hand and the scattered clothing folded itself neatly atop the bench at the foot of the bed.

In the bed itself, two bodies seemed all but lost beneath a light sheet and a massive tangle of hair- both blonde and brunette. The source of the blonde hair groaned at the sudden introduction of light and burrowed deeper into the curly brown hair.

The elf stood beside the bed with a small smile on his face. "Master Thorfinn," he spoke clearly towards the sleeping figures, "Master Thorfinn, Fritz is needing to wake you up now." The blonde head groaned again. "Master Thorfinn I don't believe you want mister Adrian to find you so… comfy."

Hermione shot straight up, dislodging the large wizard wrapped around her. With a startled squeak, she pulled the sheet up to her neck and looked around the room.

Fritz smiled broadly. "Good morning Miss Hermione!" He motioned to the end of the bed. "Fritz has freshened and folded Miss Hermione and Master Thorfinn's clothes. Fratz is making breakfast."

Flushing scarlet, Hermione nodded. "Fritz," she whispered, "do you know what time it is?"

Thorfinn grumbled "Too bloody early," and attempted to pull the witch back down into the bed.

"Still early," the elf informed her. "Master's first appointment isn't until 7:30. The time now is 6:07."

"See," the wizard complained, "there's still plenty of time." With one firm tug around her midsection, he pulled Hermione back into the depths of the bed, throwing a large thigh over her so she couldn't get back up. He rutted his nose back through her hair until it reached her neck, where he began laving kisses atop the love bites he had left the night before.

A polite pop told the two people in the bed that the small elf had taken his leave.

Pulling herself from beneath the man trying to coax her into more bad ideas, Hermione held the sheet against herself as she fished for her clothes at the end of the bed. His warm body followed her and continued trying to pull the sheet from her.

With a half-hearted puff, she stood and began pulling her clothes back on. "Thorfinn Rowle," she scolded, "We both have work to get to, and one of us still needs to go home and change before everyone at the ministry finds out about her irrational Monday-night decisions."

His brows furrowed as he watched her do up the button and zip on her skirt. "Are you saying you're ashamed? That you regret it?"

"What?" Her eyes shot to the blonde lounging on the bed. "Thorfinn, no!" She dropped herself to sit on the bed, wild hair haloing her head. Reaching out to his cheek, she ran his hand over his rough beard and into his hair. "Merlin, no. Not ever." She pressed a chaste kiss to his lips before standing again and reaching for her blouse. "But I can't reasonably walk into work on a Tuesday morning in Monday's clothes, with wild hair and reeking of sex."

Pacified, Thorfinn smirked. "You should see your hair."

She laughed. "Like you're one to talk." After another lingering kiss, she forced herself to pull away. "I need to go," she murmured. "I'll see you Wednesday?" He nodded, and she disappeared out the door.

Making her way into the parlor, she smiled at the state of the room. The contents of her work bag were scattered across the floor in front of the fireplace, one of the plush chairs was knocked over, and an antique landscape painting on the wall was tilted at an absurd angle. Picking her wand up from beside the leather satchel, she waved it at the painting and the chair, putting them to rights. She crouched down and began refilling her bag by hand.

Almost methodically, she filled and organized her bag. Nearing the end, she spied the corner of a paper peeking out from under the sofa. Pulling it out, she recognized it at the pamphlet Justin forced upon her months earlier.

It fell to the floor when she caught sight of the now familiar emblem printed on the top. A dove atop two crossed wands.

True Pure Magics

For the protection and education of wizardkind that have been blessed with the pure, untainted gift of magic.