Notes:
Hello Everyone!
Before we begin, I'd like to apologise profusely for my prolonged absence. Honestly, I have no excuse, just a conspiracy of circumstances that have kept me away from my writing. Hopefully, I'll be able to get back into the swing of things soon.
This is a little something I've been working on for the last couple of months. According to my document details, I started it on 13 August just under a month ago. I've written it in bits when I've been able to, but I decided that I'd finally finish it in honour of September 1st. I have gone through it with my eyes and a grammar checker, but some mistakes may have slipped through. If you spot anything, please let me know!
Just a side note - despite this being a spy fic, there's practically no action. This was done because a) I can't write action scenes and b) I wanted to focus on the Harry/Hermione dynamic more. Also, I picture Harry and Hermione to be about 22/23 years old at this point.
TW: Brief mentions/references to Rape/Non-Con
Hope you enjoy it! Sending hugs!
Summary:
Harry is a secret agent for the wizarding sector of MI6. While on an undercover assignment in America, he meets the muggleborn witch Hermione Granger and falls head-over-heels for her. However, she only knows him by his undercover identity. How will she react once the truth is revealed? Will their love survive the test?
...::-::...
"My name's James," he introduced himself, "James Marsh."
The woman looked up at him with a raised eyebrow, "Not Joe Marsh?"
Harry blinked, "I'm sorry?"
She rolled her eyes, "It's from Little Women by Louisa May Alcott. The main character's name is Joe Marsh."
Harry smirked internally.
'A bookworm then.'
"And what might your name be?"
"Hermione," the woman replied, "Hermione Granger."
Coffee and Croissants
Harry shivered and pulled his coat tighter around himself to block the chilly December air.
Yet another Christmas on a mission.
Not that Harry particularly minded. Things between himself and the Weasleys had been frosty since he'd broken up with Ginny and he didn't fancy spending Christmas with people who still resented him.
That was why he'd accepted. The fact that the mission was undercover also made it more appealing, as the glamour he wore provided more anonymity than his own face did. Being the so-called 'Man-Who-Conquered' did not give him much privacy and, thanks to the Daily Prophet, most of the world knew what he looked like - hence the disguises he wore while on the job.
As he walked down the road, luggage in hand, he thought back to the events that had led to him being there.
After the war, he hadn't been in a good space. He was awoken every night by nightmares of those who hadn't made it, and of the torture he'd gone through while on the run. To make things worse, his then-girlfriend, Ginny, didn't understand what he was going through and kept pushing him. Eventually, he'd had enough and lashed out at her, his magic exploding outwards, shattering the windows around them. He'd broken up with her, then stormed upstairs, collected his things and left. He hadn't been back since.
He'd ended up staying in a small room above a muggle pub. He'd drowned his sorrows thoroughly that night and was barely lucid when a man in a dark blue suit had sat down next to him, an amused smirk on his face.
"Alright there, Mr Potter?" he'd said, his Scottish accent colouring his words.
Harry had turned his head and glared miserably at him, before returning to swirling the drink in his hand. The man, who had yet to introduce himself, frowned at Harry over the rim of the silver glasses adorning his nose.
"Drinking won't help your problems," he'd said, simply.
"Oh yeah? Then what will?"
The man had smirked, "I know some people. They're very interested in you."
Harry had frowned, "A lot of people are 'interested' in me. What of it?"
"Come with me and I'll tell you."
Perhaps, if he'd been sober, Harry wouldn't have gone with him. He was, however, rather drunk, so he'd done what every wartime instinct screamed at him not to do - and followed the mysterious stranger.
He didn't actually remember too much of that night. He didn't remember how they had got to the room where the man sat him down before introducing himself as Lord David Mackintosh - a wizard and one of MI6's top magical agents. He'd offered him a job, and Harry hadn't looked back since.
He'd spent the next year in training, effectively disappearing from the Wizarding World. He only appeared to collect funds from Gringotts occasionally, and even then he went under glamour until entering the bank.
He was very good at his job. He'd excelled at his training, shocking his instructors with just how quickly he'd picked up new skills. He'd also discovered, much to his own surprise, that he was good at the theory as well, and his powers of deduction and reasoning were better than even he had thought them. He'd realised then that he'd been dumbing himself down all his life - first with the Dursleys and then again at Hogwarts after he became friends with Ron. He'd stopped doing so there and then and, since completing his training, he'd risen rapidly through the ranks and became one of MI6's top agents. Which led him back to exactly why he was walking along a cold Chicago road in the middle of December at five o'clock in the morning.
According to their intel, an unknown group of people was operating a drug ring within Chicago, with the University and its students being one of its main targets. Usually, agents of Harry's level were above simple drug busts, but this case was an exception, as the drug used was one of magical origin. With symptoms similar to the effect of a compulsion charm, the drugs caused its victims to be more susceptible to any suggestions or orders they may be given. The main problem was that the drugs were being used on Muggles - threatening the Statute of Secrecy. MI6 wanted the culprits caught, which was why Harry had been sent in.
He was set to pose as a University student - Muggle of course - who had recently moved to Chicago. All the necessary papers had already been handed in, and he was supposed to start once the Christmas holiday ended in January - although he didn't personally expect the operation to last that long. In the meantime, he'd been instructed to socialise with some of his peers and try to figure out how the drugs had been administered to their victims.
Eventually, Harry made it to the flat that had been rented out for while he was on the mission. It wasn't far from the university itself, making it a very convenient location. The flat wasn't overly large, with one reasonably sized bedroom, decent bathroom and an open-plan kitchen-lounge-dining area.
Once he was inside, Harry put down his luggage and began to unpack his things. Most of it was what agents typically called 'window dressing' - items such as books or photographs used to make one appear as normal as possible.
After he'd set everything up, Harry took out his laptop and logged in to MI6's server. The laptop was specially made - by the Wizarding sector's version of Q - to be protected against magic and included a biometric scanner that verified his identity. Once the device was satisfied that Harry was who he said he was, the page opened up, allowing Harry to access the files he needed. From those, he got the names of the places the drugs had been administered the most and decided that a little reconnaissance wouldn't go amiss.
Having made his decision, he went to his room and changed into a pair of light-grey pants and a button-down shirt. Over that, he added a slightly-frayed denim jacket that he had a particular fondness for. He finished the outfit with a pair of ankle-high, honey-coloured, lace-up boots before strapping his invisible wand-holster to his arm and leaving the flat.
By then, it was roughly nine in the morning, local time, so Harry decided that some breakfast was in order and made his way to the small cafe that, he knew, was a spot frequented by many students.
It was a cosy little establishment, covered in tones of soft browns and cream. Bookshelves lined the walls and almost all of the tables were full. Except for one, Harry noticed, where a young woman had her nose buried in a book, and a steaming mug of coffee rested on the table before her. The seat opposite was empty. Deciding that he needed to get acquainted with some of the locals anyway, Harry made his way over and stopped beside her.
"Excuse me," he said, causing her to look up from her book and gaze at him curiously.
"Yes?" she asked, seeming confused.
"I was just wondering," Harry continued, "if I could sit with you? All the other tables are full."
The woman looked around and confirmed that the other tables were indeed full before nodding. Harry smiled at her and took his seat. She immediately returned to her book, which, Harry thought, was rather rude. Although, he did suppose that they didn't know each other from a bar of soap.
"My name's James," he introduced himself, "James Marsh."
The woman looked up at him with a raised eyebrow, "Not Joe Marsh?"
Harry blinked, "I'm sorry?"
She rolled her eyes, "It's from Little Women by Louisa May Alcott. The main character's name is Joe Marsh."
Harry smirked internally.
'A bookworm then.'
"And what might your name be?"
"Hermione," the woman replied, "Hermione Granger."
"A Winter's Tale," Harry nodded.
Hermione looked up at him in surprise. He smiled at her.
"I'm British," he explained, "Shakespeare is much more my forte."
"Ah," she nodded in understanding, "Yes, I see. My parents are also British - A Winter's Tale is their favourite Shakespeare, hence my name."
"You like reading then?"
"Of course," Hermione smiled, "I've always loved reading. Granted, it hasn't won me very many friends, but it's always been my escape."
Harry frowned, "What do you mean it hasn't won you many friends? Surely no one can hate reading that much?"
Hermione sighed, and shook her head," No, it's not that. It's just, well, I tend to learn a lot when reading, you see - as one is apt to do. I went to a school where most of the kids were legacy students, with only a few outsiders selected each year. They resented me for being one of them. They thought that being a legacy made them better. I did my best to prove them wrong. I read ahead on every subject and often answered before they were able to. I guess you could say I was a 'Teacher's Pet', a 'know-it-all'. Many hated me for it."
Harry nodded, "I see. The school I went to was similar - although I was technically a legacy student myself. Both of my parents had attended the school. My mother was one of the so-called 'outsiders', as you put it, and many felt that I shouldn't have been allowed to attend. I had a couple of friends, I suppose, but no one I was particularly close to."
His mind instantly turned to Ron, but he dismissed the thought. Ron hadn't been a true friend, not really.
Hermione smiled, "Well, it seems we're quite similar, aren't we?"
Harry smiled in return, "Yes, I suppose we are."
…::-::...
Harry became quite well acquainted with Hermione that morning. He surprised himself by actually enjoying her company. She was intelligent, he discovered, and had a rather dry sense of humour he found amusing.
When he left, after a breakfast of cheese croissant and hot coffee, he'd been rather upset to part from her. He'd enjoyed the morning with her. Hermione seemed to be in the same predicament and had bashfully informed him that she usually came to the café every morning for breakfast. Harry had smiled and told her that he expected to see her again then.
He'd felt horrible about it later, realising that, once the mission was over, he'd have to leave her alone again and without an explanation.
Shaking his head and putting that thought aside for the moment, Harry dressed, that evening, for a night on the town.
From the information he'd gained from Hermione, the most popular night-time hangout place was a pub a few blocks away from the university known as the Slug and Lettuce. She'd said, however, that a pub wasn't really the right word for it. When he'd asked her to explain further, she'd simply shaken her head and refused to elaborate. So, with that in mind, Harry prepared himself for all eventualities.
His wand holster was strapped, as always, to his left forearm to make for an easy draw in emergencies. He also wore a pair of dark-grey slacks with a matching jacket over a crisp, white shirt. His gun holster was hidden beneath his jacket, and a couple of Q's special gadgets lined the pockets. He finished off the outfit with a pair of black dress shoes. Lastly, he artfully messed up his glamoured hair - which was pale blonde, much like Malfoy's. Not that he liked the comparison.
Harry then left his flat and made his way to the so-called pub.
…::-::...
As soon as he walked in, Harry confirmed that the Slug and Lettuce was certainly not a pub.
Although it was advertised as one, and the facade gave the same impression, Harry thought that a club was a much better term for it.
Inside, it was dark, with flashing, multi-coloured lights to entertain those who were dancing to the ultra-loud music. Most of the people there were young - obviously students - and more than half of them were clearly drunk.
Harry could easily see why the place was number one on his list of targets.
Sighing internally, Harry shoved his way through the throng of people and made it to the bar, where he ordered a 'vodka martini - shaken, not stirred.' He often had it while on a mission, finding it amusing that everyone knew that a spy created the drink, and yet no one guessed he was a spy himself.
As he sat at the bar, sipping on his drink, he gazed around the room, keeping a lookout for anything suspicious. His eyes narrowed when he caught a dark-haired man removing a small zip-lock bag from his pocket a few seats away. Harry could clearly see that it contained a white powder.
Immediately, he got up, and began to walk over but, before he could get there, one of the dancers nearby overbalanced, and fell towards the man in question. He dodged the woman, and she ended up falling over and knocking her head on the bar countertop. Many people rushed to her aid, causing Harry to lose the man in the chaos.
…::-::…
Over the course of the following week, Harry developed a schedule. Every morning, he met Hermione at the cafe for breakfast, after which they would go to her flat and talk for an hour or so before he'd leave for his daily reconnaissance. Every evening, Harry would go to one of the drug 'hotspots' to check things out, but he didn't see the man again.
The following Saturday, Harry arrived at the cafe, only to find that Hermione wasn't there. Concerned, he made his way to her flat a few streets away from his own.
On arriving, he found her front door slightly ajar. Even more worried now; he opened it fully and went inside.
Hermione wasn't in the lounge, nor was she in the kitchen or dining room. Harry heard noises from the bedroom, however, and so made his way towards it.
Upon opening the door, however, he found himself shocked.
The room seemed to be in chaos, with clothes and other items flying through the air and arranging themselves into the wardrobe. Hermione herself stood in the middle of the whirlwind, conducting the items with a wand as one might do with an orchestra. Harry stared at her open-mouthed.
'She's a witch?'
It was then that Hermione noticed him standing there. She stopped abruptly, and all her clothes fell to the floor.
"James!" she cried, "Listen, I can explain-"
"Explain what?" he asked, "That you're a witch?"
"What? How-how did you know?"
Harry smirked, and drew his wand from his holster, "I may have a few tricks up my sleeve."
"Oh," Hermione laughed in relief, "Thank goodness! For a second there I was worried that the obliviators would come for you."
Harry shook his head, "There'll be no need for that."
Hermione smiled at him, then turned back to her clothes, blushing when she realised that there were some items of a more feminine variety littered on the floor. Harry also noticed and decided that returning to the lounge might be a better option.
A few minutes later, Hermione entered, a light blush still dusting her cheeks. Harry ran a hand through his hair as he struggled to think of what to say. Luckily, Hermione saved him from having to speak first.
"Sorry about that," she apologised, "I overslept this morning, and was trying to hurry things up a bit. Normally I do things the no-maj way."
Harry shook his head, "Don't worry about it. I'm sure it happens to all of us at some point or another."
He smiled, "You're just lucky that I'm the one who walked in on you and not someone else."
Hermione laughed good-humouredly, "Yes, I suppose I am." She paused for a moment, and then asked, "So, coffee and croissants?"
Harry grinned, "Definitely."
…::-::…
A few days later, Harry received intel from one of the contacts he'd made while staying there that there was going to be a drop going on at a Christmas party later that night. A party that he and Hermione had been intending to go to. Harry knew that he'd have to be there, but he couldn't let Hermione get mixed up in it. He couldn't afford for her to be hurt. Although he hadn't admitted it - not even to himself - he'd fallen in love with the bushy-haired American bookworm. However, he couldn't just tell her not to go, which meant that he'd have to tell her the truth - the truth about himself.
He didn't think it was going to go down very well.
…::-::...
"Hey," Harry greeted, once he'd opened the door for Hermione, "Come on in."
He stepped aside for her to walk in past him, before closing the door and following her into the lounge.
"I must say, I'm intrigued," she said, taking a seat on the sofa, "What do you have to tell me that couldn't wait until this evening?"
Harry chuckled nervously, standing before her, too nervous to sit down. He rubbed the back of his neck anxiously.
"I don't think you're going to like it."
Hermione frowned, "What makes you say that? You're not on drugs or anything, are you?"
"What, no!" Harry squawked, surprised, "Most certainly not that!"
"Oh, good. Well, then it can't be that bad."
"I wouldn't be so sure."
She rolled her eyes at him, "The suspense is killing me. Why don't you just tell me, James?"
Harry flinched, "That's just it. My name isn't James Marsh."
Hermione's eyes widened, "It's not? Then why did you lie to me about it? Are you in trouble with the police, the government?"
He shook his head in response, "No, no, I'm not in trouble for anything. I was sent here by the British government to investigate a group of magicals smuggling drugs in and around the University. They've been spiking drinks and, well, raping their victims and using them for rituals. I was sent in under a false identity to uncover and remove them."
"So, you're a spy?"
"Yes, I am. I'm sorry I lied to you. Truly. I just never meant to become as… close to you as I have." he smiled, "To be honest, I shouldn't even be telling you all of this, but I trust you to keep it a secret."
He received a small upturn of her lips for his trust in her but, being Hermione, she did still have questions.
"If your name isn't James Marsh, then what is it? Can you tell me?"
Harry nodded, "My name, my real, name, is Harry Potter."
Hermione's jaw dropped open, "Harry Potter? As in the Harry Potter - the defeater of Voldemort."
"Yeah, the Harry Potter."
"But, you don't look anything like the pictures. A glamour I assume?"
Harry inclined his head, removed his wand from his sleeve and dispelled the glamour. Before Hermione's eyes, the short, blond-haired, brown-eyed, pale-skinned man she'd come to know and love disappeared, revealing the tall, tanned, ebony-haired, emerald-eyed one hidden beneath.
It was the first time in many years that Hermione Granger was rendered speechless.
She stared at him in shock for a good minute, and it made Harry uncomfortable. He cleared his throat, which broke her from her daze. She blinked a couple of times, before looking up at him sheepishly. Harry raised an eyebrow at her, awaiting her response.
"I understand," she told him, "why you did what you did." She smiled, "Honestly, Harry, I'm offended that you thought so little of me. You assumed I'd be angry, didn't you?"
Harry smiled bashfully, affirming it. Hermione laughed and shook her head at him, before changing the subject.
"Now, why is it that you needed to tell me all this today, specifically?"
Harry let out a breath, before seating himself next to her and explaining the situation.
The rest of the afternoon was spent coming up with a plan and, by the end of it, they were satisfied that they would catch the perpetrators.
…::-::...
Everything went off without a hitch, thanks to Harry's intel and Hermione's careful planning. The dealer at that night's party was caught, whereafter Harry administered Vitaserum and got the location of the main base out of the man. He then went and, with some help from the local Auror force, rounded up what was left of the group.
Hermione was just pleased that he got back safely and that the bad guys were in prison where they belonged.
However, the end of Harry's mission also marked the end of his stay in America and both were disinclined to part with one another.
Eventually, the time came. Harry tried to dissuade Hermione from coming with him to the International Portkey Departure Zone, but she wouldn't budge.
"We might not see each other for ages," she argued, "and I'm spending as much time with you as I can."
She looked up at him as they walked into the ministry building, "Are you sure you can't stay for New Years? The fireworks are always so spectacular."
Harry shook his head, smiling softly at her enthusiasm, "Unfortunately not. M wants me back for a debrief as soon as possible. He's the impatient sort."
Hermione sighed, "Well, it was worth a try."
All too soon, they came to the point where Hermione could follow no further. She looked at Harry with tears in her eyes, even though she had promised herself not to cry. Harry was also upset, though he did his best not to show it. It didn't do much. He pulled Hermione into his arms and held her tightly.
"I'll miss you," he said, throat tight and voice muffled in her hair, "We'll write to each other, okay?"
"Yeah," she responded, breathily, "Of course, we'll write. Just… promise me that you'll look after yourself, okay?"
Harry grinned, "Don't I always?"
They were interrupted by an announcement, saying that all Portkey travellers needed to head to the departure zone. Harry and Hermione shared one last hug goodbye before Harry hefted his bag onto his shoulder and headed for the doors. Before going through, he turned and gave her one last wave, before disappearing.
As soon as he was gone, Hermione burst into tears, already missing him terribly.
…::-::…
The next few months were hard for both of them. They did their best to keep in contact through their letters but with Harry often away on missions, it was rather irregular, and not the same as seeing each other in person.
It was May when Harry realised that he hadn't received a response to his latest letter. He'd sent it almost a month previously, just before departing for a job in Australia, and Hermione normally wrote back while he was away. He was slightly concerned, but not panicked. Perhaps it had simply been delayed?
A few days later, a familiar-looking owl flew in through his kitchen window. It dropped a piece of parchment on the table, before swooping back outside. It seemed that no one was expecting a reply.
Having recognised the owl. Harry eagerly unfolded the letter but was surprised to find only a few words written on it.
I've organised a surprise for you. It should be arriving soon.
Love
Hermione
Harry stared at it. The letter was very un-Hermione-like. Her letters were usually pages and pages long and he always enjoyed reading them, tracing her name over with his finger. This time, however, it was quite the opposite. Harry read it again, her excitement and enthusiasm almost palpable through the parchment. He wondered what she had planned.
With that thought in mind, he filed the note away where he had kept the rest of her letters and got ready for work before heading out.
…::-::...
Even though nothing unusual had taken place in the last few weeks, Harry felt that everyone was staring at him. Surely it wasn't that strange to see him walk into the building where he worked? It's not as if his colleagues didn't know him! Did they know something he was unaware of?
Doing his best to ignore them, he made his way to where Moneypenny sat at her desk, looking through some paperwork. She looked up when he walked in and smiled, before gesturing to the padded door with a handful of pages.
"M wants to see you," she stated, before returning to her work.
Frowning at her lack of greeting, he went where directed and found himself in the office of one of the most important men in the British government. From behind his desk, M studied him with a set brow.
"I don't often say this," he started without preamble, leaning back in his seat, "but you're one of our top agents, Potter. You've got a good track record, despite a couple of mishaps and, for the most part, you obey the guidelines we set out for you. There have been a few exceptions, as one might expect and, regardless of your age, you perform well." He paused and got up from his seat, heading over to the small oak side table that held a couple of decanters. M poured himself a drink, then turned around to face Harry again.
"For the last couple of years," the man continued, "the higher-ups have been discussing a new form of training - one that's been proven successful in the past. Recently, a vote had gone through to implement it on a provisionary basis. This, of course, implies that it needs to be tested out before it becomes a permanent fixture. There were many discussions over who would be our so-called 'test subject' and it was eventually decided that you, Potter, shall have that honour."
"Me?" Harry asked, "Why me?"
"The deciding factor was that you're good with people. You know how to read them, understand them, and empathise with them. This new programme requires someone who has those skills. You see, the idea is to partner up a new agent with a more qualified one. You'd go on missions together, and also get to know each other as people. This would allow you to learn from each other and improve on your various skills and strengths."
"I take it then that you've got a partner already set up for me?"
M nodded. "Indeed. She should be arriving any moment."
The intercom buzzed, and Moneypenny's voice could be heard clearly.
"Potter's new partner here to see you, sir."
"Send her in."
Barely a second later, the door opened and Harry turned to get his first look at his new partner. His jaw dropped open, however, when he saw just who it was.
"Hello," Hermione greeted, her eyes bright and a smile playing on her lips, "I hope you like your surprise."
