"You can dispense with the faux pleasantries, Lucius," Snape drawled. "So nice to see you in the world of the living. I'm curious, however...how in the bloody hell did you manage to get out of Azkaban so early, anyway? Let us see...who is high enough up to be pulling your strings...oh, if only Tom Riddle were alive to see you consorting with his oldest enemy."

Lucius drew himself up to his full and impressive height, eyes flashing with barely controlled fury. "You don't know anything, blood traitor. If you're only here to sully my good name and cast aspersions about the company I deign to keep, you know the way out of my home."

Snape bowed his head in a mockery of deference, looking increasingly smug. "As I thought. Within twenty seconds of my passing over the threshhold, an owl will be fired off to your new Master informing him of my deep and traitorous treachery. Well, well, Malfoy. How the worm has turned. Years of demeaning me for my role - subservient, you called it. Dumbledore's little lapdog. So witty, weren't you? And now look who the poodle is. Impressive, Lucius, really. You'd think..."

At that moment, Lucius slapped Severus hard across the cheek, sending the younger man back a step. Sneering, with barely-checked laughter in his eyes, Snape turned towards his assailant. "Now you're even using Muggle methods of assault! To see the Malfoy family stoop this low - I never thought I'd see the day you dirtied your hands on the likes of a Snape. Though maybe it's your association with your Muggle-loving son..."

"Don't you dare talk about my son. Get out of my house."

"Perhaps I will," Snape said, "but perhaps also I can help you if you tire of working against me, and working for that old fool."

"Hem, hem," said a voice from the shadows near the door. Severus turned towards the sound, betraying no surprise at the type of company the Malfoys were keeping.

"Professor Umbridge, my dear old friend. So good of you to drop in on our conversation," Severus said. "Let's talk about you, shall we? What is in this little kidnapping scheme for you? I think the sooner we get everyone's motivations out on the table, the more enlightened our discussion can become..."

"I don't have the slightest idea what you are babbling about," Umbridge said. "Not all that different than your rantings during our time at Hogwarts, no? My only vested interest is in being left alone with Narcissa." At this comment, Severus rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically for effect, as a mental image formed that he most definitely had to shake off before retching. Lucius looked at Severus, and a moment of understanding passed between them. For a second, they stood on the same side of the fence, when it came to Dolores Umbridge.

"Look, Severus. Go back to your little castle and play pretend-spy, and let the big boys handle this, okay?" Lucius said, amused at Snape's reaction to Dolores but valiantly trying to remain irritated in demeanor. "I can give you my word, on my mother's grave, that the Mudblood isn't marked for death. She will be fine once we have what we need."

An even more sarcastic tone crept into Severus' voice. "Oh? What is she marked for, then? Why is she suddenly so incredibly important after years of obscurity and banishment, anyway? Is Dumbledore looking for her to grant her a full pardon, or perhaps offer her a job?" Snape feigned bewilderment, causing to Umbridge to accidentally chuckle and clap her hand over her mouth in horror before regaining her composure.

"If you want to know, Severus," Dolores said in her nasal high-pitched whine, "you'll have to ask Dumbledore. We're just the - hatchet men, as it were. As you obviously seem to know, we're to bring her to Dumbledore in repayment for his assistance in getting all of our early paroles from Azkaban. We aren't privy to all his thoughts. If we were, I'd still be running Hogwarts. Pity for you."

"You both used to be better liars than this," Snape said. "A shame you aren't buying what I am offering. Well, I best be off then. Lovely seeing you..."

"Wait," Dolores said, curiosity finally getting the better of her. "What exactly are you offering, Professor Snape?"

~*~*~

Hermione stared at her spanking-new PowerBook as the workday's end came and went. The nice e-commerce database she was setting up for her client flickered into a spiralling screensaver, but she didn't notice a thing. Her eyes were unfocused as her mind drifted over the events of the past several days.

For starters, even with the wand securely strapped to her thigh (by way of a handy wand-and-cell phone holster she had fashioned from scrap leather), she still was completely baffled as to what had happened and if something more sinister would befall her again in the near future. Her unknown benefactor - the sender of the anonymous wand - obviously believed she was in some danger. But from whom? What possible motive would someone from the wizarding world have to attack her now, after so many years? She certainly had nothing special to offer.

Further and deeper in her subconscious, now calling to her in her reverie, was the mystery of the photos. What in the hell was up with Snape and Draco's pictures? The more she looked at them, the closer to them she felt - even as she told herself that it was patently absurd that wizarding photos would allow her to see into current events so clearly. Normally, wizarding photos might give a clue as to what was happening currently in the lives of those pictured, but that didn't account for the actions of dead people in the photos. So much about it confused her, but she'd never had a chance to study the charms involved in creating such photos - and of course, never would, since she would not have access to wizarding texts for the rest of her life. Everything at this point was speculation; her current feeling was that perhaps something had happened in the world she left behind to finally cast doubt upon the testimony that had led to her exile. Perhaps that was wishful thinking, and she wasn't sure what could be done about it anyway.

Mind still drifting, she thought about her friend QuIdiot. He had spent weeks pushing for her to meet him; but right as she'd been about to crack and break down to go have a drink with him, there was silence. She had asked him point-blank if he had started seeing someone - trying to understand why his singleminded interest had abruptly ended - but he had offered no explanation. He had not ignored her, of course - there was still always a snarky, fun comment on each entry she made, and they had a very spirited discussion in his journal about the relative merits of American football and "real" football. But there had not been another invitation to go out, even though she had noted that he had arranged a few times with other of their friends to grab drinks after work here or there in the intervening couple of weeks. It shouldn't be bothering her, of course. She had always turned him down in the past, and perhaps he had given up. But, despite logical explanations for this, she felt a twinge of jealousy and annoyance at the fact that she had lost control over the situation. Before, she could always say "This is all my doing. I wish to remain in social exile. I am destined to be alone." Now, her friends didn't ask anymore, and she suddenly began to crave the attention.

Truly pathetic, you nitwit, her inner voice said. You need to get your shit together soon. Perhaps a vacation would clear your mind?

She snapped to. That's precisely what the doctor ordered. London was closing in on her, for certain, and the Goddesses knew she had weeks and weeks of vacation time saved up. Time to close up shop here at the office and ask her LiveJournal buddies for vacation recommendations. Humming and bouncing out of the office, she felt rejuvenated enough that she completely missed a pair of eyes in the dimness of the stairwell watching her walk towards the front door of the office building. The owner of said eyes tried, but failed, to crack his knuckles; sighing and looking heavenward, he began to follow her down the steps and out into the night, in the direction of her flat.

~*~*~

Albus Dumbledore was nearly, but not quite, on the edge of having a pang of conscience. This was somewhat exacerbated by the prolonged absence this afternoon of his Potions Master, who had claimed he was simply going into Hogsmeade for potions ingredients. He'd hoped that Severus would keep himself removed from the goings-on where Miss Granger was concerned, but he should have known better. An unexpected surge of affection for the younger man softened him, if only briefly. He could indulge himself in those private thoughts, but the fact always remained that Severus was only as useful as he was obedient, and right now Albus' concern was the clear evidence of willful disobedience - and the fact that perhaps Severus was becoming a disciple of Albus' brother's dying madness. In many matters, he could indulge Severus in these fancies, but not this time. There were very few imperatives in Dumbledore's life that were as important as obtaining Granger.

At the beginning, when Aberforth had died and left his unusual legacy, Phineas Nigellus - always the most outspoken former Headmaster, and such an obvious Slytherin to be able to discern Albus's plans and immediately try to weasel him out of following them - explained very patiently and with oddly Muggle colloquialisms about a can of worms that did not need to be opened. Albus not understanding exactly what this was in reference to, managed to comprehend Phineas's second attempt at metaphor by using the example of Pandora's box. Indeed, that was exactly the correct reference in Hermione Granger's case. Before Aberforth had died, she had simply been a Muggle with unused magical talent that could not be focussed becuase she no longer had a wand. She had accepted her role as an outcast, and had shed her past. And certainly there was much truth to Phineas' steadfast admonition that Dumbledore had helped that along - but at the time, Albus had told himself as if it were a truth that it had seemed to be the best way to ensure both her safety, and the safety of his own position in the wizarding world. No one suspected Albus Dumbledore to be interested in power, but the lengths to which he could go to pull strings and curry favor each time the Ministry had conspired to remove him from the Headmaster's chair pointed to the fact that he too could be just as blind with love for the office he held as Fudge had been.

What many had not been aware of - only a select few, really, including the always tight-lipped Minerva and Phineas Nigellus - was that fully half of Dumbledore's renowned magical power was on direct and forced loan from Aberforth, his brother. A charm had been placed on the boys at birth by their father, giving the elder brother, Albus, half of Aberforth's considerable power. This left Aberforth with just enough magic to get by in the wizarding world without being exceptional at anything, a position of diminished power he held until the time of his unfortunate death. Aberforth lived out his days as the secretive and generally reclusive proprietor of the Hog's Head Pub in Hogsmeade, living very quietly in obscurity other than his famous brush with the law for an unfortunate incident with a goat. It was a frame-up job if there ever was one, but one that helped along the image of a doddering, quirky fool that Albus liked to pin on him, making those in the know whisper that Albus might have arranged the whole sting operation that brought the incident to light. Aberforth spent his time both becoming an astute student of human nature, and brooding over what his life could have been if not for the calculated favoritism of their father. His brother, on the other hand, rose quickly through the ranks at Hogwarts after the downfall of Grindelwald with exceptionally powerful magic and intelligence, surrounding himself with several extremely loyal minions; some through choice like Minerva, and others with more ambiguous reasons for loyalty. Snape had been one of the latter, but had scrupulously never let Albus down. Much of that had to do with the fact that Albus only had to say a few words to the Ministry and Severus would be dementor fodder - there were a number of unsolved crimes from years past that had been perpetrated by Hogwarts' reformed Death-Eater-In-Residence. To the Ministry, Severus' good deeds since then were quite irrelevant; he would be in prison for life, end of story, if Albus decided he wished it. Albus held Severus' keys as a jailer rather than the Dementors of Azkaban, but the weight of the sentence was often the same.

Feeling the potential encroachment of conscience prick at him even more strongly, the Headmaster reflected on Phineas' last words before Albus had dumped him in the closet. It was true that the portrait was right about how low Albus had sunk on the ethical chain. His methods were certainly driven by desperation, if he looked at it more closely than he wished to. While he might currently be in the frame of mind for self-examination, it was an exercise that ultimately would get him nowhere. He had to have Hermione to undo the damage Aberforth had done in his spitefulness - the act that Albus did not see coming, and that would be his undoing if not corrected.

Phineas had once, upon learning the truth, politely suggested that Albus simply apparate to her flat, explain the dilemma, and ask for her help. "Why all the underhanded machinations? Why bring the Malfoys and that horrid woman Umbridge into this?"

"I don't believe Miss Granger would give me what I require, Phineas. She could just as easily use the gift to come back and clear her name, which I cannot afford."

"You wouldn't know until you tried..."

"I refuse to tip my hand to a chit of a girl! Really, Phineas, you act as though I'm planning on brutalizing her, or something. I just need what she has been mistakenly given, that which belongs to me. That's all. They bring her to me, I extract the power that is rightfully mine, and that's the end of the business...an Obliviate and send her on her merry way. Good Circe knows the girl has no need of that magnitude of power, anyway..."

"That's not the point. Aberforth chose her for this gift. It's not yours to take away, Albus."

"It was mine to start with, Phineas. I'm sick of your moralizing. Get out of my sight. Don't you have a nap to take, or something?"

Albus's brother had been a cunning man, and as the Headmaster discovered when he laid his brother to rest and was presented the several parchments Aberforth had left behind in Albus' name, quite a bitter wizard as well. He had clearly resented Albus for years. Aberforth had apparently spent his non-barkeeping life in the Hog's Head storeroom testing charms and creating potions for the specific purpose of leeching back the magical powers that were rightfully his. Right before his death - and unfortunately, causing his death - he'd been successful. He'd cast a long-distance curse to unbind Albus and Aberforth's combined energy field and call his own to his body, returning himself to full strength. Ironically, it was the absorption of the magic of his birthright that had killed him - his body was very old and less flexible to surges of power, so his nerves seemed to only able to handle the amount of magic that he grew up with and very little more. It was as if he had received an irreversable electric shock as his nerve endings exploded with too much magical energy. As he lay, painfully dying on the floor of the storeroom of the Hog's Head, he remembered the woman who had visted his establishment a number of times on Hogsmeade weekends as a schoolgirl, planning secret societies of Dark Arts defense leages. He had admired her very much. She had been a girl whose passions included creating, learning, friendship living, and giving to others; she was not a beauty, but was clearly a remarkable witch. When she had been cast out of the wizarding world for crimes that were not her own doing, Aberforth's goals became twofold; to get back what was rightfully his, and to restore this woman to her rightful place in society.

At the final battle with Voldemort, by miraculous chance, Aberforth had obtained Harry Potter's cloak - which hung in tatters off the comatose boy's body - and a beautifully carved, obviously non-Ollivander illegal wand off a dead Death Eater's corpse that lay nearby. Seeing the look on Severus Snape's face in the chaos of the moment, and knowing full well from whispered conversations in his pub over the years what the young man was and what he stood for, he made a decision. "Keep these safe," Aberforth had said to Snape as he shoved the items into his blood-stained hands, turning away as he whispered, "you may be able to save an innocent witch someday with these. If I do no good the rest of my life, I do this now." Later, Albus had grown angry with his brother for disposing of these magical items, which only served to make Aberforth more convinced that he had done the right thing. Severus had never gone to Albus with them, nor obviously had Aberforth divulged the keeper of the items. And now, they were being used for a great good, which is what Aberforth would have wanted.

One of Aberforth's dying acts was to use the charm he had invented to transfer his considerable - and full, not just half - power to Hermione Granger. She never had been fully aware of what had happened, and since she was a much younger witch, the magic did not affect her physically as it had affected the elder wizard. It was at this point that she developed a keen sense of magical people in her vicinity, but she was completely unaware of the power she wielded. Her magical energies had also imbued her living and working spaces with invisible, powerful wards that prevented hostile intruders. She had simply assumed that every witch and wizard could feel other magical people when in Muggle situations. She'd never stopped to ponder why those who had been following her hadn't simply apparated into her flat and grabbed her in the dead of night. It simply had never occurred to her that she was somehow gifted with innate power that kept the would-be attackers at bay. Since she had no point of comparison, being not in contact with any other adult witches or wizards and having not grown up in wizarding society, she simply felt that this was all a normal by-product of being an adult witch. It was no more complex than that in her limited experience.

Aberforth's final words to his brother, delivered via Howler, explained in detail what had occurred and how his intention was for Albus' lies of omission in the Hermione's trial all those years ago to finally come to light. Albus' life had not been the same since, as his quest for Aberforth's magic - and wish to silence Hermione Granger - had its genesis. He could not afford to allow Hermione to realize her new gift, or to realize the deceptions that had been wrought in her name.

~*~*~

Dolores Umbridge half-listened to the two men banter back and forth about "loyalty" and "honour" and other such nonsense, while she pondered the situation. Multiple attempts to Apparate into the girl's flat had been unsuccessful. Every time she tried to unlock the girl's door, she failed miserably. Her best bet was going to be to get her to willingly leave work for an unsecured location - a pub, perhaps - and pull her under the cloak and Apparate. The girl was so set in her travels - she walked directly to work from home and to home from work, rarely stopping for anything other than take-away dinners. It would be easy to pull her into an alley, but the girl possessed more dangerous magic than Umbridge was prepared to deal with unless she could come up with a complete element of surprise. Unfortunately, that didn't seem terribly likely, as the girl seemed to be quite aware of when someone was following her.

Suddenly, the answer snapped into Dolores' pea-sized brain. Polyjuice. So simple...oh, yes, this would do the trick nicely.

"Severus, Lucius, are you quite finished? I haven't heard anything of any interest to me in this entire conversation."

Both Severus and Lucius narrowed their eyes at the horrid little woman. "Why are you even here?" Severus asked, sounding bored.

Dolores turned and walked out without another word. She went to her private room in the Malfoy dungeon, to see what she could do about creating that new Quick Polyjuice potion that only took three days' brewing time. She had Severus Snape to thank for that innovation, and she'd certainly use it to its fullest extent now. As she began gathering ingredients, she thought over her plans for the little bane of her existence. She'd gotten herself in charge of this operation simply becuase she had a score to settle. Dolores Umbridge would never let go how that little filthy girl managed to wreck all her grand plans to be in charge of Hogwarts. It had been her dream - all she had ever wanted was to be Headmistress of the school, and for a few shining moments it had all been in her grasp. She'd never be able to obtain the title while Dumbledore was there, of course - if he actually thought she planned on delivering Hermione to him, he was more delusional than she imagined. No, Dolores planned to do something very educational and fascinating - almost as fun as the quill that Harry Potter had been forced to use in detentions, but even more sinister and worthy of her subject. Dolores simply couldn't wait to get her hands on Hermione, for so, so many reasons.

She wasn't going to begrudge Lucius, of course, his depraved pleasures with the girl. He could have her when Dolores was done. But by the time the girl ever managed to be seen by the Headmaster of Hogwarts, she'd be of no use to him. Or anyone, for that matter.

~*~*~

"I'll consider your offer, Severus," Lucius said. "That's the most I can do. My orders are simply to deliver her to Dumbledore. What state she's in at that time, well...he didn't specify. I'd have to have very good compensation not to deliver her..."

"You know I have within my resources quite a lot of compensation that would interest you. Find a way to avert this disaster, Lucius, or I assure you you'll be seeing the walls of Azkaban again very soon."

A slight shudder passed through the blond man's countenance at the thought of Azkaban, before he composed himself and said, "I believe at this point the stakes are high enough that you'd find yourself there with me."

Snape nodded. "I'm prepared for that eventuality, Lucius. The girl must be protected at all costs, now."

"I think you must care about her more than just on a professional level, my boy. I haven't seen you this mental about anything since Lily Evans..."

Severus blanched. "I don't even know her, you great idiot. But there is much more at stake here than the woman, and you know it. And just for your information: if you plan to go to Dumbledore about my visit, be aware that I will happily neutralize you. It would be my pleasure."

Lucius nodded, knowing fully well that Severus could do just that, and knowing he could never explain the length and discussion topics of this visit to Dumbledore anyway. "You have my word."

Snape stared for several moments at his sometimes adversary and occasional ally, and abruptly turned and swept from the room towards the elf-guarded Apparation point on the first floor of the Manor.

~*~*~

Lucius had his own reasons for wanting the girl, all having to do with wanting to reward her in his own inimitable way for doing away with both his tiresome life as a Death Eater with that insane bastard Voldemort and getting rid of the extremely annoying brat Harry Potter. It was almost worth the time in Azkaban to be done with both banes of his existence. Hermione had been a bit of a fixation for him for years, especially because she annoyed his offspring so, but also for the aforementioned reasons. The girl would have been appalled beyond belief to think that she even crossed the thoughts of Lucius Malfoy, but she did. Now, his interest in her had increased tenfold becuase of Severus' obvious concern for her. He could easily kill several birds with one stone - taunting Severus Snape being the most rewarding of those - if he kept her here.

Narcissa had really been a lost cause for years, always preferring the company of female lovers. Lucius had tolerated it. He'd never really had a strong interest in his wife, anyway, other than to produce an heir and make certain the purity of the bloodline remained intact. What she chose to do sexually was none of his concern, until her current fixation on that abomination of a woman. Dolores was, in a word, disgusting. The thought of his wife and that woman together made him physically sick, which was a fairly difficult prospect considering some of the scenes he had participated in during Voldemort's infamous revels. Narcissa did not seem to realize how dangerous the woman was, besotted as she was by the woman's obvious prowess in the bedroom; once Lucius had been permitted to watch, and had to leave before he gagged - but the woman clearly had Narcissa under her talented thumbs. Normally Lucius enjoyed watching his wife with a lover, but this one was unfathomably grotesque. Well. She had her uses in obtaining the Hermione-prize for him, and that's all that mattered.

Of course Granger was a Mudblood. He wasn't looking to produce offspring with her. He saw her as a very coveted object, made more so by the power he knew she had. He could easily make her want him; Lucius Malfoy had never had a problem with that. The erection that now was forming made him anxious enough to consider attempting to simply go after her and get her himself. He could buy her a drink...she would be fascinated that someone - anyone - from her past was speaking to her. Yes, he could do that. Pacing restlessly, he thought about how he could pull it off.

Of course. Draco.

~*~*~

Draco was a spy for the Ministry, officially. He watched certain wizards and witches who lived outside of the wizarding world for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, alerting them when he saw one perform magic illegally. One of the witches he was assigned to was Hermione, of course.

Draco was playing several ends against the middle with her, however. After Aberforth's death, several people approached him for information about her whereabouts. Albus Dumbledore was first. Severus Snape's inquiry followed shortly thereafter. Most surprisingly, Lucius Malfoy contacted Draco one afternoon, explaining that he'd been paroled and was interested in the whereabouts of one Hermione Granger.

"Father," Draco said, "I'm so thrilled you're back!" He embraced his father, disgust showing on his face behind his back.

"Draco, I understand you are keeping tabs on Granger for the Ministry."

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not. What's it to you?"

"I wish to contact her and thank her for getting rid of Potter, of course."

Draco smiled a thin smile. "You know, I'd consider doing that myself if I could. But no one is allowed to speak to her. You know the law."

"I don't care about the law."

"I'll let you know if I hear anything about her, Father. I don't have any news for you," Draco lied. "She's not one of my cases. I'm sorry."

Lucius knew his son was lying, but he let it rest. He knew that when push came to shove, Draco would come through. Blood would always thicker than the Ministry of Magic's rules and regulations.

After a terse conversation with the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and a rather lengthier conversation with his former Head of House, Draco independently formed loyalties where Granger was concerned. He'd always felt that there had been rather more to her story than just an Imperius curse, and that she had been treated quite unfairly by the Wizengamot. He had no particular love for the girl or her friends - never had - but had developed, over his years under Snape's tutelage, an innate sense of justice that was not inherent in a normal Malfoy's nature. Snape had become the real father over the years in school. He knew full well that he would help Severus Snape, and Snape only, in this effort - not just to protect Granger from harm, but because it was the right thing to do. His father would probably kill him if he understood that his son would probably be sorted into Gryffindor if the hat were placed on his head now; but what Lucius didn't understand now, he certainly didn't ever need to know.

The LiveJournal thing had happened quite by accident, but had given him an immense advantage in his surveillance of the subject. One night, he had accidentally become trapped in her office building during a lockdown - the IRA had been threatening to bomb a building in the area, and all the buildings were being searched. Draco had broken into an empty office on the floor above Granger's firm so he could create a nice magical window into the room where her desk was located, to keep an eye on her comings and goings. Since the building was in lockdown, he had spent some considerable time watching her work on her computer...and noticed she was absorbed in a website that was unfamiliar to him. Using a pair of Omniculars, he was able to determine that she was on a site called LiveJournal, and that her user name was BeWitched. After he got back to his own flat that night, he fired up his old computer and struggled mightily with his antiquated dialup British Telecom connection until he connected to the site.

After six hours of cranky, slow surfing, he managed to convince himself of two things: One, he needed to become one of Hermione's anonymous "friends". Two, he needed a high-speed connection. Within a few days, he was on his way to becoming a part of her life. What's more, he found that he started to really enjoy the repartee and wit of many of her Internet friends and others he met on the site, and became a true and complete addict. Hermione tended toward introspection, but she was often very funny - as were her friends - and offered the unique perspective on Muggle life that he sorely lacked with his wizarding background.

Now he felt as if he couldn't live without the computer on a daily basis. He loved his connections, and he felt extremely protective of the woman he was assigned to observe. If he was a heterosexual, he'd already be married to the girl, for heaven's sake. But, he wasn't on that team, so he found ways to help and protect her from afar, while enjoying all the benefits of Muggle London as seen by the sides of several friendly and warm LiveJournalers he'd met through her. Severus Snape, the person that Draco Malfoy trusted the most, was his best hope to keep Hermione safe from those who were now seeking to potentially do her harm.

Perhaps he could do them both some good by his LiveJournal project with Bats50. After he had laughed out loud at the comment Snape had left in her journal, he had smiled for hours when he realized that she had added the stranger with the acid tongue to her friends list immediately. He wasn't sure why Dumbledore, his father, and Umbridge were so obsessively interested in Hermione, but he had a feeling Hermione was about to become quite interested in her former Potions Master - especially if QuIdiot had anything to do with it.

~*~*~

Halfway down the block that separated her office building from her flat, she heard a voice. "Miss Granger?"

She stopped, turning slowly. Henry the night janitor was behind her. "Henry? Why are you following me, man? Come walk with me. Have you eaten? Wait, aren't you supposed to be..."

"Hush, girl, and follow me." Henry beckoned her into the corner pub, scene of many-a-Hermione-less-LiveJournal drunk and the occasional ruined Saturday morning breakfast. The pub was crowded, but not insanely so, and the two co-workers found seats in the corner. "Henry, I thought you were supposed to be at work tonight."

"Night off," he said in a gruff voice. She looked carefully at him, and noticed he looked different tonight. Perhaps more tired than usual, and not smiling as broadly he usually did. "Is something wrong, Henry?" She reached out a hand to touch him, but he pulled away before she could, surprising her.

"I'm afraid there is, Hermione, and I want you to be prepared," Henry said in a low voice. "I know who you are, and I know the power you possess - even if you don't. It's time for you to hear everything I can tell you about what is happening, before someone manages to kill you - or worse."