Chapter 50 Need Me Enough

She had been discharged from hospital three months ago and since then the minutes and the hours and the days had flown by and blended together and, right now, she would honestly be hard pushed to tell anyone where she was.

She was in a bar; that much was certain. The time and effort, blood sweat and tears they had devoted to their reconnaissance, planning and battle over the last week had paid off and the world was light by ten Death Eaters; eight dead, two in prison. Somehow the statistics always ended up on the light side when it came to taking prisoners. In another time, another place, she may have paused and questioned the morality of what they were doing.

But this was neither the time nor the place.

No, this was the time for celebration, this was the time for comparing wounds and battle stories and life stories when it came down to it. This crew, her team, her comrades in arms.

John Hazelmere had nick-named them the SAS, his father had been a muggle and a proud soldier in this elite, feared and respected British Army Regiment. She supposed, as she looked around the table, that there were similarities.

Everyone here was tough and ready; they were marked by battle and addicted to it. They packed their bags with ruthless efficiency and moved from place to place, country to country in practiced silence.

John, he was probably the most similar to her, muggle born and raised, shocked by his Hogwarts letter and immersed in the wizarding world before he even realised what was happening. He'd married young, young and naive and had then watched as Death Eaters had burned down his house and wife while he quietly lost the very last shred of hope he had. And since then he'd been getting his revenge.

Of course none of them saw it as revenge. No, they'd been called to duty and they had answered. Never mind that every so often she would question the exact motive behind forming a group of angry, ruthless and potentially suicidal fighters and sending them off to fight covert missions in foreign lands. Governments had been doing that for years and if they were using her for their own ends shouldn't she, or all of them, do the same?

Marta, older and more scarred then any of them. She'd been fighting for as long as she could remember, as had her parents and their parents before her. She was from the heartlands of Eastern Europe and she possessed a hardness unique to that part of the world. Occasionally though, when they found themselves in a rare moment of peace under a cloudless blue sky she would smile with an joy that shocked everyone who saw it.

"This is why I fight, children." She would tell them.

Austin, tall, strong and beautiful, but cold and sharp. No one really knew much about him other than he was someone you would be happy to have watching your back. And he was a man who liked to spend his free time shagging whoever he could find. From what she'd heard he would leave his 

women satisfied but somehow empty inside and, she imagined, he probably felt the same way himself.

Elizabeth, young, sweet, idealistic and fearless. Like Austin she kept her cards close to her chest but Hermione knew something must have happened to put that zest and anger behind her eyes. This girl would hunt to the ends of the earth. She wanted every last one of these 'people' dead, and Hermione was pretty sure she would end up sacrificing her own life to do it.

Ten of them in total, the 'Seek and Subdue' branch of the Ministry's Auror division. They'd been given cart blanche across the world following some clever negotiation by the British Ministry. After all, didn't they have a depth of experience when it came to these matters? Wouldn't the rest of the world benefit from their expertise? From their dedication? From their crazy, fearless warriors who would scour the globe for evil and stop it in its tracks?

Never mind that it was just another way for the Ministry to protect its assets around the world, never mind that it was a cynical attempt to stamp its authority as the police state of the globe. No, they knew all these things, the group around this table, but they didn't care. Each one of them was here for their own reasons, and they would see where the journey took them.

Because Merlin knows it had to go somewhere.

Slam. The shot glass hit the table in front of her and she wiped her mouth with relish. Oh, how she'd missed that burn. It didn't seem quite clear now, why she'd stopped drinking in the first place. Right now it seemed like the sensible thing to do. For the first time in what felt like weeks she was warm and dry and inside, among friends. And it felt right to be sharing the joy of their success in this way.

The after parties were always raucous and extreme, you wouldn't expect this group of people to chat around a glass of wine would you? No, they drank and danced and argued and occasionally came to blows. And they fucked. We'll most of them did anyway.

"You're the only one who doesn't fuck." Austin's brown gold eyes bored in to hers across the table and she had the uncomfortable feeling she'd become his target for the evening.

"Excuse me?"

"You don't fuck. Not me, not John, not anyone as far as I know. It's been three months Granger, everyone here's pretty much slept with everyone else. Everyone but you."

"That's my business."

"Pining for someone on the outside?"

"Outside of what? You make it sound like we're in prison."

He chuckled at her and for a brief moment he reminded her very much of Draco Malfoy. There was something cynical about him, mixed with something good. She couldn't put her finger on it, the 

same way she'd never been able to do with Draco, but it worked for him and who knows, she may have been interested if it hadn't been for... well, best not to think about that right now.

"Aren't we?" His voice brought her back to earth with a bump, deep grey eyes and warm tattooed skin flitting from her mind as quickly as they'd entered.

"Aren't we what?"

"In prison, we'll all trapped by one thing or another. Why else would we be running across the world trying to get ourselves killed?"

No, absolutely not, no hinting at reality and ulterior motives here thank you. She was happy with her illusions if it was all the same to him.

"Because it's right, it's the right thing to do. They need to be stopped."

He smirked at her again;

"It's the only thing for people like us to do Hermione." His use of her first name startled her, and for a moment she felt herself waver, drawn in by the intensity of his gaze. But it was the wrong gaze, always the wrong eyes, the wrong eyelashes. The eyebrows were always the wrong thickness, the creases in the corners of the eyes were always too few, or too many. The cheekbones never cast the right shadows across skin which she didn't ache to touch, to taste. The lips never looked as supple, they were never the right shape, the jaw was too soft, or too set. The smell, the smell of every man who'd run his eyes over her during the last few months, it wasn't right, it didn't make her quiver and it didn't cause her breath, or heart to quicken. None of it was right.

They had met once more before she'd left. It had turned out he didn't need to leave after all. Her new work would give him the distance from her he needed, not wanted, just needed.

She'd closed her bag and bound it shut with a flick of her wand. Another flick and her draws closed, clothes not suited to her mission folded and stowed away. Flick, the bed was made, the pictures straightened and the letters she treasured safely tucked away.

Flick, the curtains were drawn, the bag was miniaturized and she was through the door, sighing as it clicked shut softly behind her.

"Hermione."

Oh god, not now, no rowing now, she should have known it was too good to be true, that he hadn't tried to change her mind.

"I'm not going to try and change your mind." OK, so not changing it, reading it maybe.

She slowly turned and faced him; hand on her heart as if she could prevent it from bursting through her chest. For minutes, or hours, they stood in silence relying on it to say what they couldn't.

Sirius finally found his voice, shaming her with his bravery; she would never have been able to start the conversation.

"I just came to remind you of a couple of things. Things you might forget... where you're going."

"I don't know where I'm going." Was she being deliberately obtuse? She wondered. His meaning was as clear as day.

"Yes you do. You're going back." Oh yes, back, back to her old self, back to old times, darker times, more comfortable times for her somehow. It was easier not to try, and she'd thought she wouldn't have to try now, that she could go where the wind took her. And maybe it would have been true; she could easily have managed not to try at all, if it hadn't been for this man. She still couldn't quite decide if she loved him or hated him for it, once again, oh yes, definitely back to old times, back to old Hermione.

She said nothing, what could she say? It wasn't like she could argue with any plausibility, and to deny it would be insulting them both.

"So, I came to remind you that I love you." He came a step closer, and another, his movement almost silent in the still hallway, the sound of her heart drowning out any other noise. His hand rose to her shoulder, to caress it, tracing patterns on her skin and on her soul as it moved towards her neck, skimming almost feather-light, but powerful nonetheless.

She swallowed audibly and she could feel his hand still as her skin had twitched under his touch. It was only for a moment though, and then it carried on travelling. It moved to cup her jaw as his eyes held hers and she stood, trapped against this wall, ready to leave, and desperate to stay forever. His thumb traced her lip in a tribute to ever first moment they shared. Their first kiss, their first time together with love in the room, acknowledged and accepted, and now this, maybe the last time.

He brought his face towards her and kissed her gently, soft but perfect. It had been a kiss which made her shiver now just to think about it. His lips had barely touched hers to begin with, and then he'd pushed closer and traced his tongue across hers as she sighed into his touch. It had been so unhurried, as if they'd had all the time in the world to bask in each other, as if this was just a moment in time, not a goodbye. One hand had cupped her face and the other tangled in her hair, tilting her head back ever so slightly, ensuring her eyes were raised to meet his as he pulled away and whispered.

"And I came to remind you that if you ever need me enough, I'll be there, just think about me." His voice cracked as he continued, "just want me enough Hermione, need me enough."

And with that he turned and walked away.

"You tell yourself what you want Hermione." Austin continued back in the present day. "But I know why we're here, and it's not because it's the right thing to do."

And, in the future, when she looked back, she'd know that this was the moment. Yes it had taken time, she'd had lessons to learn, but if she really thought about it, right now, in this sawdust and spit bar in god knows where, this was the time she began to doubt, the time her conviction stuttered.

This was the moment she started to turn towards home.