All I need to get by

Chapter One: Agent 433

Stonehenge is located between two main roads in England, both of which pass by fairly close by to it. Fields surrounding the actual relic are covered in strange barrows, and it sits atop of small hill. Stonehenge itself is the most beautiful, overpowering, mystical place, and consists of a number of stone slabs placed on top of each other in a fairly circular rythym. It is a heathen place, where, it is siad, they once worshipped the sun, and so accordingly in old circles of Heathen ancestral families it goes by the name of the Sun-Stones.

Agent 433 was furious when she apparated to it. Just on the ridge of the other parallel hill lay the Unseen Stonehenge University, USU, where she had once studied. It was home ground to her. And yet she felt today as if it were the last place she would wish to be; this man they sought was well versed in all manner of ancient magic and no doubt he could twist the ancient stones to his bidding.

"Stupefy!" came a cry to her left, from beyond the largest archway, and she ducked.

The hum of magic sped past her shoulder as she realised that magic was amplified here – even that stunning spell could kill. The wand she was holding slipped over the tiny callouses on her fingers, and grazed a tiny wound on her thumb as she readjusted. She smiled grimly, pushing her hood firmly onto her head as she prepared to duel with the scum. There was no sign of the other aurors; they had returned to headquarters to fetch back up. Only she had been idiotic to apparate straight after him, they would tell the Head of Unspeakables.

433 moved quickly and silently to a new post, below a fallen slab that could once have been an alter. She could see him, smell him; a mixture of cigarette smoke and sweat clung to him and prevaded the air around where he stood watching for her.

"Petrificus Totalus!" she cried, but he vanished behind a pillar and the spell fizzed into nothing.

There was silence while they both reviewed their spells. Stonehenge was blanketed in thick darkness; no lights gleamed here except the occassional scoop of car headlights, and the red of their backlights. Scrubby grass moved under her feet, and she smiled softly. In the distance she heard voices.

"Oh Unspeakable," came the high voice, "Where are you, Unspeakable? Scared are you?"

The female Unspeakable felt a cold surge of fury move up her legs, as if hundreds of ants were crawling up her. She breathed deeply and grasped the wand tighter, pulling a second from inside her boot as she did so. The second wand was not as light as the first, built of poisinous yew with a centre of veela hair as oppsed to flexiable willow with a core of dragon scales. It had been built by Ollivander for her after her first kill, ordained by the Head of department. The hair was of the veela she had killed – a jewel thief with a habit of killing wherever she went.

"Gorgalus!" she cried suddenly, rolling from her hiding place to another pillar.

"Ooooh, sneaky…" said the man, side stepping it neatly. "Forniculus!"

Suddenly, too suddenly, there were pops coming from all around her; some muted, some louder depending on the power of the wizard or witch. 433 simply vanished, without the noise. Compared to the average witch or wizard these noises were tiny, a car exhaust back firing compared to a truck backfiring. None of the assembled Unspeakables spoke, merely circled Stonehenge. The little man they had been chasing began to sweat more. His mouth was dry, moist tongue licking his lips anxiously as he thoguht desperately.

"Stupefy!" roared 433, pointing both her wands at him. "Serakus!"

There was a scream of anger from the man. The stupefy spell had reached him with the aid of serakus, a tracking spell opf which 433 was fond. He wobbled backwards a step, but remained upwards, his wards damaged but not gone.

"Gergak!" was cast back at 433, and the alter she had been lying behind upto a millisecond ago exploded, sending the whole thing up in a torrent of golden and red sparks.

It had been a sacraficial alter. Blood from the innocents sacrifices on it spilt from the skies; warm damp rain. The Unspeakables grimaced; from the other hill the faint sounds of several angry wizards were being emitted.

"Forbus!" cried 433, and the man dropped suddenly.

The Head of the Unspeakables moved forward, propped on a large staff, black robes swirling around him. Around the man a small crowd of black robed Unspeakables gathered. Agent 433 moved forward to meet the Head, tucking her wands into her pockets. The wind had picked up, and her hood was whistled from her head, revealing her face.

It was her first mistake on the job.

The little man leered, and focused on her head. He was a shihab, trained in India under a famous mage. Capable of malicous intent through thoughts, he only needed to focus on her for a few moments before she let out a scream that echoed through the countryside and collapsed into a smoking pile on the scrubby field.

Draco Malfoy had collapsed into an overstuffed leather armchair exactly three minutes ago, his shoulders sagging as his buttocks made contact with the chair. The lumber support magically adjusted itself, and the chair began to heat up. Hands formed from the headrest and massaged his aching shoulders gently. He moaned a little bit and settled back further. On the side table was a steaming cup of something St Mungos had decided to call coffee, but was really more like dirt and water.

His uncalloused, smooth fingers rested on the armrests, by his feet lay four charts of magic capabilities, one rising far too fas, one dipping, one steady, the last falling drastically. Feet encased in black leather Italien shoes with laced up bust above his ankle rested on the white floor next to the charts. Underneath the red Healer robe he wore black slacks and a black shirt, unbuttoned at the collar.

"Healer Malfoy!" came a hollor suddenly, and he sat up quickly, collecting the charts in one fluid movement.

The receptionist, a fluffy blonde creature who smirked too often, had rushed into the office, her small face screwed up into an expression of fear. Behind her stood two Unspeakables, hoods up, but unifroms identifing them. Around them hovered an air of panic. Malfoy had seen too many during the long wars and after to forget what they looked like although an average wizard or witch would have no clue as to what they were.

"Malfoy," snapped one, hauling him up by the arm, "Now!"

Draco Malfoy was not used to being dragged along the corridors of St Mungos where he worked, on the top floor not normally included in the usual list of departments. Up in the converted attics of st Mungos was a department, staffed by Malfoy and two male nurses, for seriously damaged witches and wizards. These witches and wizards had often been exposed to huge amounts of malicous magic and their own magic was subsequently damaged, perhaps even their bodies as well.

"Healer Malfoy, there's been an emergancy!" explained the receptionist, scurrying alonside him like a small rodent, "an Unspeakable was exposed to something unidentified…"

"That is enough!" thundered the Unspeakable not dragging the Healer along.

"Healer Malfoy," came a dignified but concerned voice from the Unspeakable he was deposited in front of, one that he recognised as the Head of Unspeakables, "We have a situation you must handle. Agent 433 was damaged in Operation Stonehenge, by a Shihab who she had captured."

She was lying on the bed in the first room. Her black gossamer robes were ripped open to reveal a blue tinged body, every vein clearly visable. Her head lolled the her right hand side, delicate features making her pretty. Her brown eyes flickered in attempts to stay open, and her hair was matted with blood and spread out behind her. One arm was neatly folded on her torso across her stomach, the other hanging off the bed, blood dripping from the fingertips. The ends of her fingers were black. The entire body was shredded, deep gauges covered in dirt and sticking to the material of her unfiorm. Two wands lay on the bedside cabinet, a pair of boots abandoned by the bottom of her bed. A third regular Unspeakable was watching her worridly.

"She is my best agent," said the Head next to him.

A weak smile filtered over the face of the girl lying there, rvealing straight white teeth. It lit up her entire face, and made the three Unspeakables in the room shift from one foot to the other and smile back at her. The Head of Operations patted her arm gently, and the Unspeakables retreated.

"Right," said Malfoy, and picked his crystal tipped wand up from his back pocket.

She was watching him through lidded eyes, and gave him another weaker smile.

"You'll blow your buttocks off like that," she murmered and closed her eyes.

Malfoy spun around from stabilizing her, hearing his least favourite auror's words spill from her lips. Mad-eye Moody was the only one to say that, and took delight in saying that to him every time he saw him, in a kind of gleeful tone that implied it wouldn't be so bad to have Malfoy's buttocks blown off.

"I owe you twice over, Malfoy," she said softly when he bent over to attatch a tube to her nose in order to feed her potions.

Only one person had ever thought she owed him. The rest had assumed it was alright, him risking his life for theirs, because he had been a deatheater. And this one girl had thanked him and told him she owed him. He had given her a slightly incredulous look and returned to the long line of people waiting to be healed in the casualty tents of the Voldemort Wars.

"Granger?" he said, incredulous.

"Malfoy…" was her answer as she dropped into unconciousness.

Author's Notes etc, etc:

MadAboutHarry :- 'Tis good that you're intrigued, I hope you understand a bit more now. It is a default chapter so it was meant to be short – but it had to be the shortest thing I've ever written!

Headmaster Cromwell:- You're sorted out now. It was very complimentary, even more so when I read some of the strands in Salem. There is an application in your, erm, inbox (?) thingy.

josephine:- I hope you're slightly more clear about what's going on now. Ta.

In this chapter basically Operation Stonehenge (do I watch too much James Bond?) goes hideously wrong and agent 433 is subjected to a – well, I don't know, but is severly injured. 433 is rushed to St Mungo's by her colleagues where a secret top floor exists for critically damaged witches and wizards, normally aurors or Unspeakables. There we discover Draco Malfoy, who's the best Healer St Mungo's has. He recognises 433 as Hermione Granger because they both study under Mad Eye Moody and a small, slightly random comment that will later become valuable.

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