"Yes, Hermione, I know!" Harry exclaimed as he held his phone a few inches away from his ear. "Please stop yelling," he said, "I'm on my way!" He hung up as he pushed open the door of his favourite cafe, Three Broomsticks.
"Hello, dear," Madam Rosemerta called from behind the counter. "The usual?"
"Yes please, and could I get it to go? Hermione's already mad at me," Harry said sheepishly.
Rosemerta laughed. "Maybe try being on time?" she suggested as she moved about, preparing his hazelnut espresso.
"But then I wouldn't be able to bask in your presence, Rosie," Harry said with a dramatic sigh. Fortunately, the cafe was almost empty, considering it was office hours. Unfortunately, it meant that he was very late, and not in his office where he should have been.
"Thanks, Rosemerta!" Harry rushed out of the cafe, gulping the scalding coffee as he ran the last two blocks to reach Fortescue's Incorporated.
As he pushed open the glass door after receiving the usual sneer from Filch, Harry realised that he still did not know what Fortescue's Incorporated actually did.
'I really need to ask Albus about it someday,' he thought to himself as he got into the elevator and pressed the buttons "62442".
"It only took you thirty years to get here!" A cocoa-skinned, curly haired woman said with her hands on her hips as soon as the elevator doors opened.
"Sorry, sorry."
"Albus wants you in his office. Right now," she ushered him towards the oak door at the end of the hallway, which had a gargoyle statue on either side. It looked very out of place in the sleek white hallway with black mouldings and glass doors, but no one had the heart to tell the old man that, not when he was so very fond of it.
He knocked twice before entering.
"Ah, Harry, my boy. Do sit down!" The white haired man guiltily took his hand out of the bowl of candies he kept on his desk.
Harry raised an eyebrow as he went to sit down. He paused for a second to inspect the chair. Albus Dumbledore was known for playing practical pranks on his agents to 'keep them on their toes'.
He personally thought Albus just enjoyed taking the mickey out of them.
"So, what have you called me here for? I was sure you were giving me a paid vacation for the next three months."
Albus' demeanour changed. Harry sat up straighter. Sitting behind the desk was the man who ran the biggest private spy agency in Europe.
"The Reapers are planning something big. There are rumours of a weapons deal in France that is going to take place in two weeks at the gala at the Marriot Rive Gauche." The serious look on his face was warning enough for Harry about how serious this was going to be.
"And you need someone to go in. How do I get entry into one of the biggest jamboree of the decade?"
"We have an asset, don't worry about that. Evans Granger and Hermione Granger are heading to Paris tomorrow."
Harry regretted waking up that morning.
"Well? What did he want?" Hermione asked, sitting on his desk as he fell into his chair.
"Well, sister dearest, we leave on a French vacation tomorrow."
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Another mission, so soon? I thought he was going to send you on a compulsory vacation for the next three months."
"The Reapers are on the move again. You know he's worried about the weapons entering England."
"Well, at least I can go shopping in Paris." Hermione might not have been a girly girl, but Harry knew she could shop for hours without getting tired. Was it a female superpower?
He raised an eyebrow. "France does not equal Paris, you know."
Hermione snorted. "Please, the biggest event of the decade. Doesn't take a genius to put two and two together."
"We'll have a man meet you at the airport," Albus explained at their final briefing. "He'll be more up to date on the local situation."
"Description?" Hermione asked, checking her watch every two seconds.
Albus began climbing back into the black sedan that had dropped them to the airport.
"I haven't the faintest clue. He'll have a sign for 'Granger', I imagine. Fly safe!"
And he was gone.
"Dammit, Albus!?" Harry complained to the air. Hermione's raised eyebrow made him continue defensively, "Would it kill him to line everything ahead of time?"
"Probably," she said, wheeling her suitcase behind her as she began walking away. "He's more of the fire-and-forget type. You oughtn't have transferred if you if you weren't prepared for that."
Harry looked up at the sky.
"Paris, here we come."