Chapter Two

Bucky frowned, tightening his grip on the gun as he followed her. "Maybe this isn't such a good idea," he said, darting his gaze around the tunnel as he followed the girl.

"Bucky?" she echoed, watching him nod in response, though his expression was still uncertain. "My name is Hermione. I think I know what happened to you, and I'm going to help you. There is something I need to check, first, though, that might—or might not—give me some insight into what happened to you, okay?"

Once more, he nodded. Then, as she turned to start for the tunnel, again, he said, "Wait."

Hermione looked back over her shoulder. "What is it?"

"I'm going with . . . ." His brow furrowed as he finally took notice of the object gripped in the fingers of her right hand. "Is that what I think it is?"

"A magic wand?"

Tipping his head to one side in question, he shrugged.

"You may not have any memory of who you are, but you remember iconic images from popular culture, I suppose that's a good sign." She frowned in thought, he wasn't exactly a typical Muggle, and he was lucky to recall his own name . . . . Perhaps, as long as she could know he would not go blabbing to anyone about her and her kind, she could bend the Statute of Secrecy, just this once.

And, really, who was he going to tell? "Now, don't panic, but I'm a witch."

She almost told him not to think she was mad, but given their circumstances, she was rather certain that questioning her sanity was the furthest thing from his mind. She hadn't realized she'd winced as she said that. Not until she found she had to open her eyes to gauge his response. But his attention didn't even seem to be on her. His head was down, and she could not really see the direction of his gaze.

"Uh-huh. Nope, not going to panic about that. Although," he said, lifting his metal arm before him, "I am wondering about this!"

Her shoulders hunched at the utter confusion in his voice. Well, she supposed if she suddenly had no memory and found one of her limbs looked like she'd nicked it straight off some high-tech robot, she'd find that the more pressing issue, too.

Clearing her throat, she took a step toward him, her free hand outstretched. "Okay, I don't know your circumstances, but we'll figure it out, all right?"

Bucky frowned, again that uncertainty playing across his features. She sounded so sure—he wasn't even sure he should trust her, but he didn't see what other choice he had. He flexed the fingers of his left hand, testing the strange limb, wondering how he'd not noticed it was alien to him until just now.

But then . . . .

He swallowed hard, clenching his hand into a fist a few times. "It feels real."

"What? Really?" Her curiosity getting the better of her, she was unable to stop herself from closing the distance between them.

His brows shot up at the sweep of her fingertips across his forearm. "I felt that."

For some reason—completely misplaced, given their current situation—a faint blush flared in her cheeks. Dropping her hand back to her side, she met his gaze. "Well, um, perhaps that makes sense? I suppose it's just a matter of connecting sensors to your nerve endings? Otherwise how could you gauge damage, or know when you're making physical contact with anything?"

"Huh," he said, giving his arm another appraising look. That did make sense. She'd already offered to help him and had a keen insight that certainly couldn't hurt.

"We should be prepared. There may, or may not, be dark witches or wizards in there, who won't hesitate to kill on-sight." She gestured toward the strap over his shoulder.

He'd actually managed to forget that he was armed when he . . . came to? Was that even the right way to think of this? When he found himself here? Maybe that was more accurate.

The minimal weight of the firearm slung against his back felt natural, even as he—moving slow, so she was not startled by the motion, despite that he was readying himself on her signal—slipped the weapon over and into his hands. Yes, this felt familiar, he thought. He nodded, jutting his chin toward the tunnel.

Hermione drew a breath and let it out slow before she turned, her wand out before her, and started leading the way.

She glanced over her shoulder at him, noting the way he gripped the gun—in an odd middle-ground between tense and relaxed. She supposed it was no different for how she held her wand when she was ready for, but not actually in, combat.

"Bucky?" she asked, keeping her voice low, as they were nearly to the end of the tunnel.

"Yeah?"

"I'd like to ask something of you."

His brows drew upward in question, but he only continued along behind her, his aim steady over her shoulder. He couldn't imagine what she'd be able to ask of him. "Name it."

"Do not shoot me in the arse."

That was how they ended up—the Auror and the Muggle military experiment—pausing, mid-stride, to share a laugh at a woefully inappropriate time.

Catching her breath, Hermione shook her head. "Sorry, didn't mean to break the tension."

Bucky let out one final snicker and shrugged. "Pretty sure we needed it. Anyway, let's move."

Nodding, she started toward the end of the tunnel, once more. While she was positive whoever had been using this place was long gone, or had died in the backlash from that artifact, she was all too aware of her grip on her wand tightening and the sudden silence around her beating at her ears as they emerged into the main chamber of the outpost.

She thought she could sense Bucky stilling behind her as they both scanned the area. One robbed figure lay motionless on the floor, but the others were nowhere to be seen. Just as she had Apparated to safety—or had tried to—they probably had, as well.

Inching toward the robed figure, he knelt down. Hefting the gun in one hand, he reached out with the other, checking for a pulse.

"Thinking you should be happy you got out of here when you did," he said as he withdrew his hand and stood.

The witch could only nod as she lowered her wand and proceeded to the platform where she'd seen her quarry gathered around that strange, blue pyramid. "Cover me while I collect this," she said over her shoulder.

She was strangely aware of Bucky returning his attention to the surrounding area as he shifted his grip on his gun.

The body could stay where it was for the moment—though they would need to take it with them to bar any chance of the others returning to collect their fallen comrade—but she needed to get what remained of this thing, first. If this object was as dangerous as it seemed, she needed every clue she could get her hands on to figure out what it was.

Unfortunately, at the moment, every clue seemed to only be the four sides of the pyramid that had collapsed outward. But the capstone was notably missing.

Retrieving a specially warded capsule from the bag around her wrist, she enlarged it enough to contain the pieces. Even as she levitated them into the container—she didn't want to risk touching any remnant of the artifact with her bare skin until she understood it better—she couldn't help but feel this was a shell.

This had held something else, entirely.

Reshrinking the capsule and its contents, she put it back into her bag. Turning her wand on the body, she cast a stasis charm, preserving any evidence before she said, "We're going to have to take him with us."

As she watched Bucky—again, showing how accustomed he was to taking orders—sling the gun back over his shoulder and scoop up the body, she realized . . . . What the hell was she planning on doing with Bucky, exactly?

Typically, she'd be able to Apparate directly to the Auror's Department—the only designated direct-route safe Apparation area outside of the Minister's office, or that of department heads. But now? She would somehow have to sneak Bucky into her office, and sneak him out, again, as there would be no excuse for her not to bring the evidence directly, and she didn't really want to let Bucky out of her sight, for his own sake.

Harry! Harry was a department head, who was rarely in his office!

Oh, God, she could only hope he was busy doing something, anywhere else. More than that, she hoped Apparation would not have a negative effect on Bucky, as the blast from the artifact had.

Stepping over to him, she slipped the fingers of her free hand into his. When he looked startled by the gesture, she offered an awkward grin.

"Um, magical travel . . . I should probably warn you to brace yourself. It can be disorienting."

He let out a low, rumbling sigh and hung his head. "Of course it would be."

The witch narrowed her eyes. "Are all amnesiacs snarky?"

Bucky pursed his lips a moment as he shook his head—aware they were conversing as though he wasn't lugging a corpse over one shoulder. "Oh, likeI'd know."

Hermione held in a snicker and then Apparated them to Harry's office.