While re-watching Line of Duty to prepare for the opening episode of the upcoming series, I kept thinking about the truly excellent fic by emmy_awards, "The Bodyguard." (Line of Duty and Bodyguard were created by the same person). I got permission from emmy_awards to write this fic, so... welcome.
If you'e read my work before, you'll know I'm a fan of flashbacks and noughties club bangers, so that is what I give you.
"Text message break up, the casualty of tour
How she gone wake up and not love me no more?
I thought I was the asshole, I guess it's rubbing off."
- "Devil in a New Dress," Kanye West
Tuesday
October 9th, 2007
Auror Office, The Ministry of Magic
Whitehall, London
Harry Potter found Tuesdays to be most mediocre of all days. With none of Thursday's excitement nor Monday's dread, Tuesdays lacked any and all distinction assigned to the rest of the days of the week. Nothing ever good happened on Tuesdays, he mused as he walked from the entrance hall of the Ministry down to his own office in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The morning had started out innocently enough — Teddy had headed off to school with no fuss and the tube down from his flat in Islington was relatively peaceful. And yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to go deeply wrong.
When he made his way into the shared area of the Auror Office, he was greeted with the low, normal hum of a workday. He made a cup of tea, chatted with a co-worker, and the uneasy feeling still lingered when AC Laghari stopped him to let him know that the Head Auror Hastings wanted to see him in the Operations Room immediately.
Hastings was a tall man with a mop of sandy hair and an accent that still had traces of his native Ireland weathered by years of living in London. He had been promoted to Head Auror when Shacklebolt had been made Minister of Magic, and took his job with the utmost seriousness. He was fair and thorough, and when Harry had been relegated to desk duty two years prior following an injury he sustained during an operation, Hastings had taken particular interest in his career. Hastings mentored Harry from a standard tactical Auror to an experienced operations manager, and Harry excelled in his role.
"Potter," Hastings said, by way of greeting, handing him a small, beige coloured sphere. "Gamma Four Five got a tip last night for about the location for their suspect from a CHIS and they've been running surveillance for the last couple hours. They're confident that the suspect is in the building and they're waiting for approval to start the op."
Covert Human Intelligence Source, Harry thought. Four Five had been tracking high-level targets for months, and the task had been so highly compartmentalised and secretive, Harry didn't know what was happening on the mission or even who was involved. And now it seemed that someone had talked to the intelligence handlers, and now the team had a pretty good lead and we're planning on launching a tactical mission,
"Who's the leadership?" Harry asked, popping the beige sphere in his ear. The sphere had been developed by George Weasley as an adaptation from Extendable Ears, and offered two way communication between the Auror Office and teams in the field. He busied himself with the communication equipment, wondering what the mission was
"Mission Commander is ACI Thomson, and," Hastings seemed tentative, "STA is AI Granger."
Hermione. The Senior Tactical Auror was Hermione. Of course it was. She was special operations trained, she was fast, she smart, she was strong. And she was still mission-capable, unlike him.
"Can you read me into the mission?" Harry asked, trying to ignore the bitter feeling that was gnawing away at him.
Hastings considered it for a moment. "Officially, you're here to provide independent witness. Unofficially, four-five is tracking down remaining Death Eaters. I'm sorry, Potter, that's all I can say without damaging mission security."
Mission security. Rules.
The Senior Tactical Auror is Hermione and she's hunting down remaining Death Eaters.
A legal counsel officer brought him forms to sign. Yes, he was an independent party. Yes, he was operating as a witness. Yes, he was not going to disclose anything that happened during the course of the operation without the proper release forms.
Three more Aurors filed into the room, and sat around the large table. Hastings locked the door, and then made his way to the table. He tapped the table with his wand, and it sprang to life. It was like an oversized Marauder's Map, with the locations changing to wherever the missions were taking place.
The buds crackled to life.
"Gamma Four Five to HQ, this is Foxtrot Alpha One One," a voice intoned.
"Foxtrot One One, this is HQ, with independent standing around. Mission is a go." Hastings said, looking concerned.
"Confirmed," the buds replied. "Obs is the building is occupied, three figures, possibly four. Suspect is armed and extremely dangerous, and the other figures are known collaborators who are believed to also be armed and dangerous."
Other collaborators. People who helped Voldemort during the war but there wasn't enough evidence to convict them to go to Azkaban, so they go to live their lives, acting as if they didn't help destroy people's lives.
"I'm standing by with Foxtrot two-one, two-two, two-three, and two-four, ready to enter. Foxtrot one-two and one-three are on the ground to offer tactical support and guidance, and Foxtrot team three and four and standing by to offer backup. What's the order?"
Hastings looked at the map, where 15 red dots, each labelled with their various code numbers, were waiting.
Harry and the other Aurora watched Hastings expectantly, ready for the order.
"The order is Fahrenheit. Foxtrot One-Two, do you copy?"
"Foxtrot One-Two," a female voice said, and it hit Harry in the gut. Hermione was one-two. "On the ground, ready to provide support and guidance. To confirm, HQ, the order is Fahrenheit?"
"The order is Fahrenheit," Hastings repeated, and suddenly, five red dots split from the larger group. They snaked around a building, paused.
"We're in position," One-one's voice said.
Harry could hear the sounds of a breach about to be executed. The last shuffling into place, the knives and explosives being checked, the final murmurs.
"One-two, confirm support is standing by?"
"Magi-medic and FC are in place," Hermione said.
"Preparing to enter," One-one said, and Harry could hear the team entering the location.
A flurry of sound and Harry realised he was gripping the side of the table in tension. He remembered the entering, the fear of not knowing what was on the other side, and he hated himself for slightly missing it. I should be happy with my job, he thought. I get to go home to Teddy every night and I get to send him to school every morning.
"Subject is apprehended, along with three others," One-one said, and the tension in the air instantly was replaced with celebration.
The sounds of moving the suspects back to the rest of the team came over, and the other Aurors started getting up from around the table and making their way to the door. Harry reached over to Hastings to shake his hand in congratulations, and then
BANG!
A massive explosion came over the transmission, shaking the Operations Room, and then silence.
"I need a sit-rep, now!" Hastings yelled at the table. The red dots were all in a cluster, and Harry couldn't understand what had happened. They had apprehended the suspects. They had reported in. Stand procedure is to check anybody in custody for weapons or explosions.
"SIT-REP!" Hastings bellowed.
"HQ, this is one-two," Hermione's voice crackled. "There's been an explosion. At least two casualties, requesting backup."
Hastings looked at Harry, his face devastated. "Come with me."
Knockturn Alley
Charing Cross Road, London
The scene was devastating.
Five sheets were spread over what Harry knew were bodies, and Magi-medics were attending to the injured. It was the most horrific sight Harry had seen since the Battle of Hogwarts, and he was confused.
And then he spotted Hermione, and he hated the way his insides twisted. She was covered in dirt and blood gushed from a gaping wound on her cheek. She looked horrible, and a small voice inside of him wanted to rush over and wanted to check how she was doing, to let her know she wasn't alone.
She's a stranger, he reminded himself. You two want nothing to do with each other. You haven't spoken in five years.
But whatever he was thinking and willing himself not to think was immediately countered by Hastings, who motioned for Harry to follow him. Hastings made his way over to Hermione.
"AI Granger," he said, looking around to make sure it was just Harry and himself who were within earshot. "What happened?"
"The suspects were apprehended, and one-one and two team brought them back. All of the sudden, there was an explosion - and the suspect and the other people who were arrested with him - they're gone."
"And the suspects were checked for their weapons?" Hastings asked, and Hermione nodded in confirmation.
The wheels in Harry's mind were spinning. Everything seemed to be in order - the mission was highly secretive and compartmentalised, regulations were followed, and yet five people were injured and the suspects were gone in the wind. There was only one conclusion -
"This was an internal leak," Hastings said. "Someone grassed, and created an escape plan."
"But who?" Harry asked, adjusting his suit jacket.
"That's what you're going to find out," Hastings said. "The two of you. Quickly. Quietly. Do the internal investigation, get the people involved. Do not make it tactical. You have my full authorisation to do whatever is necessary."
"Respectfully, sir," Hermione stated, setting her jaw firmly, "I'd rather not work with AI Potter. He hasn't been field operational in over two years."
"I've kept up with all of my professional development and this is not a tactical mission, as the gaffer said," Harry shot back.
"AI Potter has completely lost perspective of what field work entails, he's wearing a bleeding waistcoat," Hermione sneered, pressing her fingertips to her still slashed cheek.
"So are you accusing me of being too posh?" Harry scoffed. "You're titled and live in the most expensive area of London."
"There are five Aurors dead, so I'd remind you two to maintain some semblance of decorum and keep to the task at hand!" Hastings raised his voice, and Harry and Hermione snapped their attention back to him.
"I am your superior, AI Granger, and I will decide who you partner with, for the benefit of this office. Potter knows every member of the personnel and has an excellent capability for investigation. Granger, you're as good as we got. This is a major cock-up for the Office and you two need to get to the bottom of it so that we don't have a repeat of whatever this is."
His expression changed from righteous anger to exhaustion, and Harry could swear that Hastings had aged ten years since the morning. "I wouldn't ask the pair of you to do this if it wasn't of the utmost importance," he said, his tone softening. "I'll give you whatever support you need, but you two need to find the bastards who did this. And Granger, get a Magi-Medi to take a look at that cheek, do not do it yourself. That's an order."
Hastings walked away to talk to Forensics, leaving Harry and Hermione to stand awkwardly next to each other.
"We should probably start de-briefing everyone who was at the scene," Harry said, and Hermione rolled her eyes.
"You need to de-brief them, and you need to de-brief me too so the people who did this don't suspect me."
"Which means that we need a third person, someone who-"
"Neville," Hermione cut him off. "He wasn't involved in the mission at all, so he couldn't have leaked any information, and he's above reproach."
Harry nodded. It was true - Neville had joined the training course at the same time as Harry, and he had finished top of the class.
It will be good to have a buffer between Hermione and I.
This was more than they had spoken to each other in five years, ever since that fateful day when everything had changed. The animosity between the two of them had been tabloid fodder. Speculation about why the Golden Trio dispersed fed the various Wizarding publications for almost two years, and Harry sometimes felt like he didn't understand it himself. One moment, he was standing in Hermione's kitchen, watching her soothe a sobbing Teddy, and the next he was reading an article about what Hermione was doing with her life — because he didn't know, because he had been cut out.
"Well, um-" He said, moving awkwardly. "So-"
"You know the procedure," she said, her tone tersely. "Secure the scene. Make sure no forensic evidence is lost."
She glared at him, and he was instantly transported to all the times to all the times she had fixed that glare on him — when he prioritised Quidditch over homework, when he and Ron drove her absolutely mad, when they fought over the Horcruxes during their horrible year in that tent. The familiarity was almost laughable.
"And Potter?" She said, interrupting his thoughts. "Meet me outside of the office and talk to me as little as possible. We can't ruin this because of incompetence."
She tossed her hair over her shoulder and walked away, and as he watched her, anger bubbled inside of him. Who did she think she was? She was cocky and arrogant and had decided how the entire investigation should go even before he had gotten a word in.
You're angry because she's right, and you hate it.
Harry tried to push the thought out of his mind, but another one, even more distasteful, took his place.
You're angry because this is your fault.
You caused all of this, and it's all about to come out.