i'm baack! woo-hoo! thanks to all who review.

DISCLAIMER! I do not own Hermione, nor do I own Harry or Ron. Which is very sad, because if I did I'd be flurking rich. All belong to the mighty JK. Hopefully she doesn't mind be borrowing them for a little bit. And now, one with the show.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~


Chapter Two
You're Alive!

Harry Potter, Quidditch Star and All-England Seeker, sat in front of the London pub, sipping a drink and watching the Muggles pass by. Ron was late, of course. There was always some last bit of business to be taken care of, and it was always just as Ron was headed out the door.

"Hey Harry." Ron said, collapsing into the chair across from Harry. "Crabbe again. Ever since the Americans caught Malfoy it's been either him or Goyle working magic in front of the muggles."

Harry snickered. Ron glared at him "What's so funny?"

"Last week you were complaining about how there was nothing to do in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"Whenever I have a busy day, someone else has a rotten day. I suppose boredom is a good sign. How are things in the Quidditch world?"

"Wood's started to plan his strategy for the World Cup next year." Harry sighed melodramatically. The old Gryffindor captain had been hired as a coach for the England Quidditch team after a Bludger knocked him out of the air permanently. "So much for the off-season."

The two old friends ate lunch and talked of times past. It grew so late that the girl who was serving their table asked if they intended to eat dinner too. It was Harry's turn to pay, so he left a big tip in compensation for monopolizing the table all afternoon.

"Oh well, once more into the fray." Ron sighed. The Ministry of Magic had offices right around the corner in Whitehall. Ron paused in the middle of story about old Mundungus Fletcher and some exploding slugs.

"What?" Harry asked, as Ron scanned the afternoon crowd.

"I dunno. I saw something." Ron frowned. He let his eyes roam over the muggles searching for something out of place. Harry glanced around also. They both saw her at the same time.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~


Work for Hermione during the past few weeks had involved a car theft ring operating out of Edinburgh. The ring had just recently expanded its operations to include London. Hermione was hoping to win the trust of the syndicate by boosting cars for them. Not really as simple as that, but things were going well.

Hermione sighed and looked at her watch. She was glad it was sunny out today, so she had an excuse to wear sunglasses. Being undercover was just easier when you were wearing sunglasses. A bus pulled up to the curb. The crowd shifted around her as people on the bus traded places with people on the street. One of the newly disembarked came and stood next to Hermione. Or to be more precise, he stood next to Hermione's groceries.

"Is this unusual weather in London?" He asked conversationally, in an absolutely horrendous fake American accent.

"Not as unusual as the movies would have you believe." Hermione replied. The man nodded. When the next bus arrived a minute later, the man moved to board it, accidentally knocking over her bag of groceries. He didn't bend down to help her; that would have been far too obvious. He simply got on his bus while other, more helpful citizens helped her gather her things. No one would notice the extra package dropped by the man as he waited for the bus.

Hermione sat back, relieved. The transfer had gone off without a hitch. The next bus would be the one to take her to the station, where the contact's information would be processed by those with a higher security clearance than hers.

She noticed out of the corner of her eye, two men pushing through the crowd. She didn't pay much attention, since people were always rushing to catch their bus, but there was no bus at the curb.

There was something familiar about the men. She scanned her mental rolodex for their pictures but came up blank. The red head called out. "Hermione!"

Hermione froze. No one knew her by that name. That name was conjured out of her dream because it was more interesting than Anne. Hermione stood and snatched up the paper bag. The crowd on the sidewalk was thick, so Hermione dove into it, hoping to lose these two strangers who knew her.

It was actually rather easy to move quickly through the crush of people, as long as you don't care about stepping on a few feet. There was an Underground station not far away and Hermione hurtled down the steps as fast as possible without breaking her neck. She stepped to one side at the base of the stairs and slid down to the floor, shaking and terrified.

It was terribly disconcerting to have three-quarters of your life a blank slate, so Hermione tried to forget that she had forgotten. She felt as if she'd been hit with the proverbial anvil. Whatever had happened to her five years ago was so horrible and sad that she had blanked out her entire existence. Hermione didn't feel terribly eager to find out just what it was.


~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~


Mystic Eyes: Romance will be coming much later. Promise.

I also promise to update on a semi-regular basis.

Questions, comments, critisicms, complaints? Review, my friend, review.

.•´¨`•»¦«•Kerowyn•»¦«•´¨`•.