But Loki wasn't there when Hermione got back.
She tried to keep busy, not to let her mind fret endlessly. She wrote up notes from the crime scenes. Tried to take a nap, given her disturbed night – tired as she was, sleep evaded her. She tried to read a book but found that her concentration was shot to pieces. Eventually she gave up and went downstairs, and had a cup of tea with Tom, talked to several old acquaintances that passed through the bar, all the time, fighting to keep the thought of Loki's broken figure in the corner of an Asgardian dungeon out of her mind.
He still hadn't arrived when Harry came back from the crime scene, two hours later. He had invited Kingsley and Jones to meet them for dinner, and was busy arranging the use of Tom's private room to allow them to discuss the case freely. "Certainly Mr Potter, will that be a table for four?"
"Five" snapped Hermione, then under her breath "where are you Loki?" She looked at her watch. She had been expecting him since 4, and it was now almost 7. "I'm giving him another ten minutes before I go out to Tom's back yard and start bellowing at Heimdall. Something's wrong - I know it is. I knew it – that dream..."
"Dreaming about me again alskling?" the smooth, amused voice behind her was dearly familiar "I hope I wasn't disappointing...?"
Hermione whirled around, eyes flashing. "Loki – you - you - ARSE! Where have you been, I was worried sick about you. I thought – you - this nightmare.." She was gripping the front of his favourite black jumper, as though he might evaporate if she let go. Realising her genuine distress, Loki wrapped his arms around her, holding her hard against him until she calmed, oblivious to the curious stares of the few occupants of the bar.
"I'm sorry sweetheart. There were some additional complications to the delegation. Three of their bodyguards got into a fight - in the throne room of all places. They are all three cooling their heels in the dungeon as we speak. Thor can deal with them when all this is over so I had to have stern words with the leaders before I left. Heimdall dropped me in the same place that he did you as I have been cooped up indoors since you left I decided to walk rather than use magic. I never meant to worry you - I assumed you dustily be out and about." He pushed her hair away from her face. "Now what is this about you having nightmares. That isn't like you?"
Hermione shook her head, her head still against his shoulder. "Last night, it was horrible. It just seemed so real. I've been on tenterhooks all day, waiting to know that you're back and safe. Then when you were so late I just got myself all wound up..." Her husband's long fingers tilted her chin up, kissing her briefly.
"I'm back and I'm safe darling. Relax" An arm draped casually around her shoulder he turned back toward the bar. "How have things gone today?"
Harry coughed discretely behind him. "Loki – good to see you."
Loki turned round, hugging the wizard he considered by now as a younger brother. "Harry, we've missed you. Where have you been?"
Once again, Harry looked evasive. "Oh, this and that. I've been doing some research – family stuff. Nothing important. When all this is over I'll tell you all about it. We're meeting Kingsley and Atticus Jones for dinner in about twenty minutes, and we'll go over everything we've found out today. We've made some significant progress I think."
ooo0ooo
Atticus Jones stepped out of the floo at the Leaky Cauldron with mixed feelings. Kingsley had assured him that there was no need to dress for dinner, but princes in the wizarding world were few and far between, and Atticus was uncomfortably convinced that he was going to be woefully ill prepared. He wondered whether it would be gold plates and bring your own servants….
He was somewhat surprised to see Potter and the Princess – still in the jeans and jumpers they'd been wearing all day, drinking Tom's best ale with a young man that looked like a cross between a muggle art student, and a model for Witch Weekly. Dressed from head to foot in black – long hair, jumper, jeans and what were probably real dragonhide boots, Jones had never seen anyone that looked less like a prince. This wasn't helped by the fact that he was chuckling at something Harry was telling him, sprawled back in his chair, one arm slung around his wife's waist, her head on his shoulder. He looked, Jones thought sourly, as if he'd never had a care in the world.
"Kingsley, Jones." Harry had spotted them. Rising he waved them over, signalling to Tom to get them drinks at the same time. Jones had thought Harry tall, but this prince had a good two or three inches even on him he thought sourly. Stuck between them and the impressive bulk of Kingsley Shacklebolt, he was feeling decidedly undersized.
Sharp, assessing eyes of an arresting shade of emerald green looked him coolly over as the prince extended a pale elegant hand to him. Shaking it, Jones was surprised at the strength of his grip, and even more at the distinct callouses across the palm and long fingers. Probably from exercising his unicorns, or fencing lessons or something he thought sourly. The formalities over, the five followed Tom into the back room for dinner.
Conversation was initially somewhat stilted, as they were unable to discuss the pressing matters at hand in front of Tom and his staff. Eventually though, drinks and food were served, and Hermione was able to re-activate the wards that she had cast the previous afternoon.
With a little help from Jones, Harry and Hermione quickly briefed Loki on the events of the day. Having been told initially that his wife would be sitting safely in the Auror office sifting through recent reports, Loki's face darkened at the thought of her trekking around the less reputable areas of wizarding London, visiting active murder scenes. He was slightly mollified by the fact that she had been in the company of not only Harry – the one man he trusted almost as much as he did Thor, but also several of the wizarding world's finest Aurors. From the murderous "I'm a perfectly capable witch who just happens to also be virtually immortal" glares he was getting from Hermione, she would probably have something to say on the subject later. When they described the cause of death, and the unusual murder weapon, Loki had nodded his agreement at their findings.
"So having found two of these miscreants already, we have to assume that this…." Loki frowned "what did you say his name was?"
"Mundungus Fletcher"
"Interesting name… You say that you know this man?"
Harry quickly outlined Fletcher's history with the Order of the Phoenix, dating back to its original inception. "Dung is a complete criminal, and a slippery little bastard, but he's one of the few left that remember my parents, and Dumbledore clearly thought a lot of him. All in all I would prefer not to find Dung in a ditch with his throat cut."
"Harry, must you…" Hermione had gone that interesting shade of green again. The murders must have been horrific to have disturbed his normally unflappable wife so much thought Loki, putting a hand over hers. Looking up, he was quick enough to catch the look of cold contempt on Jones face, whether for Hermione's perceived weakness, or his own in showing his concern wasn't clear. Either way Loki didn't like either Jones or his attitude.
Hermione, feeling the temperature drop perceptibly, looked up at Loki, concerned. As he had become more comfortable with his frost giant identity a little of his natural magic had begun to integrate with his mage-powers. It had only been in the last six months or so that it had begun to make itself known, and there had been a few interesting accidents when he was angry or startled. So far nothing serious had occurred, although she had never felt the cold roll off him in waves like this before. The scientific part of her brain noted objectively, that while the red wine in his left hand was beginning to go slushy, his right - holding hers remained at normal temperature. Catching his eye she was startled to note that there was an unmistakeable flicker of red in those green eyes, which spelled trouble. Thinking about it she had been picking up hostility between Jones and Loki all evening.
"Loki, I'm really not feeling very well. It's been a long day, would you mind?" She managed to sound sufficiently frail to be convincing, and Loki was immediately distracted.
"Of course darling." Getting to his feet with one last baleful glare at Jones, Loki ushered her outside, scooping her up in his arms to carry her – protesting – up the stairs. A number of witches in the bar, she noticed, watched her enviously.
"And would you mind telling me what that was about?" Hermione snapped as soon as the door was locked and soundproofed, and she had convinced Loki that she had only been acting.
Loki scowled. "I don't like him. I may not be causing mischief and chaos any more, and I'm certainly not lying to anyone that matters, but I can still tell when someone isn't being honest with me, and believe me, he isn't even slightly honest. Beside I don't like the way he looked at you, like you were some kind of pathetic female for feeling sick.. I know you've fought in battles, but fighting with magic isn't like fighting with a blade. The first time I killed someone in hand to hand combat I was so sick that Thor was convinced I was going to literally turn myself inside out."
Hermione smiled a little queasily at the image… then her expression became serious once more. "Loki, I love that you are so protective of me, I do, but you were about to deep freeze your wine. I could feel the temperature dropping. Not to mention the whole red and green eyes thing."
Loki looked startled. "My eyes changed." Hermione nodded, his face was now more concerned but he refused to elaborate further.
"Loki…."
"Loki…. don't go there."
Emerald green eyes flared. "I don't know what you mean…"
Hermione glared at him. "Oh yes you do. It's good that your real, natural magic is still in there. Frost Giants are highly territorial. If anything were going to trigger it, it would be a perceived threat to me. Just be aware of the possibility in future, so that you can control it. She wrapped her arms around his neck, temptation personified. "Now are you going back downstairs, or are you coming to bed? I missed you last night."
Silly question.
