Okey dokey, Chapter seven, then.

Nenharmen's my super-quick reviewer of Chapter 6. Thank you for taking the time to review me!

Draccy, you really were super-quick reviewer last chapter. Isn't that great? The main part of this story…I guess Mella would be a large chunk of it. The main part is getting Remus and Hermione together…and having some fun while I do it!

Lil, Hand3, good to see you. Yes, Hand3, I've been faithfully updating this story! Here you are once more. You'll get one more update tomorrow night, then I leave for Cairo on Thursday, so you'll be left hanging for a few days (okay, like a week or two).

Artemis MoonClaw, glad to see you again, and even more glad you like it!

Hippiechick: you have no idea how hard it was for me to decide to post without your reviews! I thought maybe you just didn't really like this story (it happens; I wouldn't have been offended). I actually had trouble logging into the server too. I'm excited that you're back!

H.G. Snape: Welcome! I'm happy you're enjoying the idea of Hermione as a muggle spy. I personally didn't think it too much of a stretch—she's definitely got the foundations for it!

So, here's chapter seven, have fun!

--Aimes

"I suggest we shower and sleep first," Remus offered. Who can sleep at a time like this? Hermione gave a jaw cracking yawn. Okay, maybe I can.

"You're probably right," Hermione acquiesced.

"Seniority has its advantages," he jibed as they climbed the stairs.

"Does senility?" she mumbled, stepping onto the landing.

"Watch it or I'll tell Severus to take fifty points from Gryffindor. The very idea of it would make him so happy he wouldn't even question it."

"Yeah, yeah, bugger you too," she tossed back as she proceeded to her room.

"And I'll have him give you detentions till you graduate, too!"

Hermione took a quick shower, blow dried her hair, and climbed into bed in her panties and an oversized cotton t-shirt.

Half an hour of tossing and turning later, she growled and got out of bed. She sat on the floor and took deep breaths. Focus…inhale…exhale…she willed her mind into silence and relaxed.

Two hours after that she sighed and climbed to her feet. They've got to keep some alcohol in this place, right? A couple of shots and I'll sleep like a baby. Hermione slid into some slippers and padded downstairs. She began rummaging in the kitchen cabinets. Upstairs, Lupin's heightened senses snapped him into wakefulness. He listened for a moment before rising, pulling on a robe, and proceeding downstairs quietly.

Ugh, this cabinet's too high! Hermione climbed onto the counter and reached upward into the cabinet, mentally cursing whoever had put the scotch that high.

Remus cleared his throat, amused. Hermione turned quickly. Too quickly. Before she could register it, she was falling off the counter. Remus caught her easily on the way down. He just got a great view straight up your shirt, Granger, right before you nearly squashed him. Brilliant.

She pulled herself out of his grip. "Sorry I woke you."

"Is there a reason you're scavenging in the dead of night?"

"Couldn't sleep. Figured a few shots of some strong alcohol would take care of it. Some brilliant bugger put it on the highest shelf, however, and I had some trouble retrieving it."

"I have something better on the condition you tell me why you can't sleep."

Hmm...Sleeping Draught? I think yes. Worth it? Yes.

"My memory of the other night is piecing itself together. I don't usually turn to alcohol, but…"

Remus nodded, feeling for her plight. He'd been on the receiving end of some unpleasant memories. It was hardest when they first hit. He took stock of her: curly, unruly hair, pale, drawn appearance.

"Do you need to talk, Hermione?"

She smiled wanly. "I'll be fine. I just…remember now. I walked in, saw mum facing about six huge guys with more muscles than a professional rugby team, and snapped into action. I was just hoping to give mum a chance…" she faltered, exhausted. "I never had a chance myself. One of them got me from behind. In retrospect he was probably one of the guys who went to retrieve Eugenia. I shot two of them, they must have taken the bodies. Dazed and confused from that crack on the head from behind, I proceeded to have the crap beaten out of me. I heard mum scream in the kitchen and I knew she was dead. Kinda lost focus for a minute; got thrown into a wall. They held me down and... It hurt like hell, every damned second of the half hour before I could trigger the anesthetic. After that, I detached…I don't know how long they worked me over." She shrugged, looking far older than her years. "I passed out at some point from blood loss and the head wounds. I don't know why they left me…"

Remus said nothing, but held out a vial. He had his own stores of Sleeping Draught, himself being plagued by sleepless nights quite frequently. He shrugged his well-worn soft robe from his shoulders, strode to her and wrapped her in it, then held her awkwardly. Hermione relaxed into his embrace, clutching the vial. When this is over, I owe myself a vacation. The Bahamas, Italy, whatever. And I owe myself a shopping spree. Not like I can't afford it. Assassins aren't cheap.

Lupin was somewhat at a loss for what to do, being a rather solitary person himself as of late, but he held her, offering what comfort he had to give. It was exactly what Hermione needed: silent understanding and a warm, strong embrace.

"Thanks," she said softly as she pulled away.

"If you need anything, at any time, Hermione, I'm here," Remus said hesitantly as she drank the contents of the vial.

"Thank you," she said, rewarding him with a gentle smile that somewhat dazzled him. "Ouf, I probably should've waited til I was in bed to drink that," she mumbled, grabbing his arm to steady herself. Bloody hell that stuff hits fast.

Remus swept her into his arms as she drifted off and carried her to her room, arranging her under the blankets.

"G'night," she mumbled before abandoning consciousness.

"Goodnight, Hermione," he responded to her sleeping form, stopping to pick up the robe he'd help her shed and exiting quietly.

Remus returned to his own room, pondering silently. He was beginning to feel an ever stronger connection to Hermione: strong, intelligent, and so alone.

He mulled this as he drifted back to sleep.

The next morning, Hermione awoke refreshed. I feel good. Nice and rested. Snape's potions are truly works of art. Not that I'd tell him that if my life depended on it. She rolled out of bed onto her feet and stretched, digging her toes into the carpet. Her hair was hopeless, a curly, riotous mass, tumbling down her shoulders. Hermione grabbed a book and transfigured it into a hairbrush, tugging it through her hair. She picked up a decorative curio from the dresser and transfigured it into a set of rubber bands. Ten minutes later her hair was in a tight braid, hanging between her shoulder blades.

She picked up the pillows from the bed and set about making them into new clothes. Okay, pillow number one becomes jeans, pillowcase becomes new bra, pillowcase number two…became my undies last night after my shower, whoops. Okay, pillow number two becomes boots and socks, and cushion becomes new blue t-shirt and long leather jacket.

Hermione checked herself in the mirror, applying some makeup from her bag and strapping on her gun holster before proceeding downstairs.

Mmmm….bacon?She entered the kitchen. Seem to end up here a lot.

"Good morning, sir," she said with a sunny smile. "What've we got?"

"Breakfast, Hermione," he replied mildly. "What has you in such a good mood?"

"The thought of killing a crazy bitch always cheers me up in the morning. And I can see you're rather ebullient yourself."

"Naturally. Sit down and eat something."

"Quite a task, I must say. I think I can handle it." Hermione sat at the table with a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast and dug in.

"I received a text message on my cell phone this morning in response to a call I made last night. Mella's making her move tonight at the Nocturne Ball. All the players will be there, including several who might know me…by name only, of course…it's like a who's who of the criminal underworld and the international community. Spies and assassins and the people they hunt and work for. ZT won't be there, he never shows. Craven, however, has confirmed that Mella will attend. He'll be there too, ready to back us up if need be. You're going as the mysterious and misanthropic X. You run a corporation that reaches nearly every continent and has ties to some of the most despicable dealings you've ever imagined. Or Craven's imagined in any case. He's pretty good at this stuff."

"And what did you have to promise him to obtain this cover?"

"A favor," she looked uncomfortable. "I'll tell you another day. The point is that he's got the cover story. I'm to be your personal assistant. Which of course means I'm your lover on the side."

"Of course."

"Don't pretend you don't like it," she said, swallowing a mouthful of eggs.

"I wouldn't dream of doing so," he replied facetiously, pouring a glass of orange juice.

"We need to obtain appropriate clothes. You're fine in a black suit and long coat, I think. I'll be wearing a gown of some sort. I've got to work something out that can carry the kind of weaponry I need. Well, all I need is a gun and a good dagger. Sadly I won't be indulging in the fanfare and glory of killing her slowly and publicly, it's not my style. It'll be quick, dirty, and quiet."

"It is your show, as it stands, 'Mione. Whatever makes you comfortable."

Hermione rose and took her dishes to the sink, washing them quickly.

"I'd like to retrieve some things from my flat in London before we go, please," Hermione requested.

"Flat? London?" Remus glanced at her curiously.

"Well you didn't think I kept my work gear in the same house as my eight-year-old sister, did you?"

He thought about it for a moment then shrugged. "Lead the way."

"That's what I thought."