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Pursuing Rogues

"Good morning," Hermione's brisk voice broke into his thoughts, and Ron got up automatically, kissing her cheek and letting her past. Aurors were given a great amount of latitude in their behaviour - provided it wasn't illegal or inappropriate in public. There was one partnership that had been around for years, and regularly kicked each other in the shins. Ron had seen an even older pair pinching arses and fondling chests. A peck on the cheek barely registered, and as a greeting between childhood friends it was warm and innocent. He'd come to realise that girls bewildered more than attracted him, and had found himself a very nice boyfriend during Auror training. They broke up because the burke cheated on him, but it had been fun while it lasted.

"How was your day?" Ron asked, fishing through the pile of parchment for the report that had been flagged for their attention. Hermione sat down, locked her purse in her desk drawer as always and crossed her shapely legs. Auror training had turned his friend into a slender, graceful woman with a lovely physique. She tied her hair back in a very professional bun, and the Aurors robes fit her like they didn't for anyone else. Ron's own robes hung like a sack, and he was one of the lucky ones.

"Mum and Dad took me out to dinner," Hermione smiled fondly, "And to see some awful Muggle comedy from America. It was based on Shakespeare's Comedy of Errors of course, not that the writers credited it anywhere. You?"

"Usual family dinner. Mum says that you and your parents should come along again next year. We promise to muzzle dad."

Ron's dad still loved Muggles and had the habit of asking the most outlandish questions of them. The Grangers were used to this and bore it all with patience and good humour. Mr Granger had even made a joke about teaching Muggle Studies without a licence - which had been one of Hermione's subjects at school. The families met up every few months in a casual arrangement designed to keep the Muggles in touch with the world that Hermione lived in now.

"Have you seen this?" Hermione's voice broke into Ron's musings and he looked up at her, an eyebrow raised in question. He tapped the item flagged for their attention and he held up the thick roll of parchment in reply.

"I haven't read the report yet," he handed it over and went back to his update list. Mention was made of Memorial Day, and Ron sighed. People just didn't understand that mourning Harry's life was not a tribute - it was one of the reasons he refused to be 'honoured' on the platform. He finally understood that there was good and bad attention, and the hysteria connected to his friendship with Harry was bad. There was a slight disturbance outside their cubicle and he glanced up in time to see Cho Chang sweep past dramatically, her eyes red and her face a little pale. From experience Ron knew that she'd spend the day speaking in a tremulous yet brave voice, and allow her partner to handle the days work.

"There goes his widow," Ron muttered and Hermione's lips tightened. Chang had learned the hard way to stay well clear of Ron's partner after Hermione had slapped her one year. Chang hadn't been dating Harry at the time of his final battle, but the way she carried on you'd never know it. She'd once described herself in the Daily Prophet as 'practically a widow', which was what prompted Hermione to slap her in the first place.

"Ron," Hermione called his attention back once more, and he met her eyes sheepishly. She was used to this. Cho Chang might swan around the office tragically, but Ron's thoughts always had a tendency to wander the day after Memorial Day. She forgave him with a gentle smile, just as he would forgive her later that day for the explosion of temper that was bound to come. They both had their patterns of behaviour, and had put a lot of effort into understanding each other.

"This is a rogue Wizard," Hermione held the report out, "Swanson had it originally, but she hasn't been the same since someone dropped a house on her."

"It wasn't a whole house," Ron protested. For some reason that he couldn't identify the Muggle born Aurors found the idea of a witch having a house dropped on her funny, "It was a potting shed," he continued, "And you wouldn't be laughing if it had happened to you."

He flicked his eyes over the summary of the file, and then paged through a few of the witness reports. Swanson's partner was also Muggle born, and that was probably why they'd gotten the case. It involved Muggles and the town of Cambridge. There had been some sort of Spring Festival there that had been interrupted by a Muggle bomb. The explosive device had severely damaged an old building, which had threatened to collapse and kill many of the people inside it, and those closest. There had been a very powerful spell cast over the building, which prevented that from happening, the worst of the damage repaired almost instantly.

The Muggle authorities were of course investigating, trying to capture the bomb maker, which gave the Aurors a perfect chance to poke around and ask their own questions. It wasn't that they were ungrateful to this unknown Witch or Wizard; it was that rogues that were strong enough to cast a spell like that were often trouble in their own right.

Every school recorded the magical signature of its students, and a copy of that register went to the Ministry at the end of each year. Once they'd sat their NEWTs, most students had matured to the point that their magical signature would stay stable for the next ten decades or so. If the Wizard or Witch broke their wand, Ollivander or whoever sold them a new wand were required to record the new signature and send it to the Ministry as well. Even the eleven year olds buying their first wand had their signatures recorded. There was a good reason for such tight controls. A single wand, expertly wielded could wreak more devastation in a short time than an army of Muggles. A single wand, inexpertly wielded could kill or maim more effectively than most Muggle methods. These magical signatures were vital to policing the Wizarding world, and all the various Ministries around the world co-operated when it came to tracking rogues.

This rogue may simply have been someone who hadn't had a lot of training due to a perceived lack in magical ability, and had a magical surge in a life-threatening situation. Or it could be someone with a more sinister plot. Cambridge didn't have a magical community - the magical universities were in London and Bath - so if whoever it was was a resident they wouldn't have been noticed much by their magical neighbours. If this was the case then they'd help them enrol in an adult education course that would teach them to control their magic.

If they were someone with less than honest intentions, then they'd be nipped in the bud very sharply. No one needed another Voldemort around the place, even after ten years it was still too fresh in Ron's mind. He'd die rather than let another Dark Lord rise, which was why he and Hermione tended to track the rogues that popped up in Britain. They were the best at that task, slipping from the Muggle world to the Magical one and back easily.

"We need to meet with Shaklebolt," Ron got up and headed out of their cubicle, confident that Hermione would follow, "We'll get our travel plans organised and then I'll go pack us a bag each while you contact the local Muggle law enforcement."

This task was made easier by the fact that they shared a two bedroom flat near the office. The Daily Prophet had made a big song and dance of this until Ron went to the office personally and pointed out that they were skating very close to libel. A retraction was printed (though it was small and grudging) and the newspaper knew to leave them alone after that. It made sense for them to share; they worked the same schedule for the most part and had been friends for so long that it was like living with a sibling. Ron had taught Hermione to relax a little, and she had taught him to be a bit more meticulous. Either one could bring a date back to the flat and not be embarrassed about it, though Hermione had a slightly disturbing tendency to fancy Ron's dates. They once had an argument over whose date was cuter, and even tried swapping them over. The dates went off together in the end, and the flatmates were left laughing hard and a little relieved.

Kingsley Shacklebolt hadn't changed since Ron had first met him with the exception of his rank in the Auror department. Their mutual past was something that was acknowledged and then put aside early in their working relationship. Shaklebolt understood that their time with Harry was not something for general discussion and didn't put them in the awkward position of refusing to answer their superior's questions by asking about it. The meeting didn't raise any concerns that Ron hadn't already thought of, and he went to pack for his partner and himself while Hermione contacted the Muggle authorities and introduced them.

Swanson had managed to track down all the Muggles involved in the incident that had left the area, and interviewed them. A sneaky spell had proven that there was no magical aura whatsoever around those interviewed, so that meant that who ever it was had remained in Cambridge.

It was a moments work to apparate to the town and find the local law enforcement offices. Hermione handled that side of the meeting, smoothing the way flawlessly. Ron thought that the local inspector would have offered to drink Hermione's bath water by the time the meeting ended, and his mention of that whimsical thought earned him an elbow to the ribs and a nasty look that rolled off him like water off a ducks back. They'd been given a map of the local area, and walked to the first campus to track down the students they needed. It wasn't difficult to get the class schedules and the day was spent in a series of interviews and clandestine tests.

It wasn't until the evening that they got their first break. One of the students recommended that they speak to the 'IT Professor'. That descriptor actually appeared on the Muggle's list, much to Ron's frustration. When they took that rather unspecific description to the administration building the woman there nodded in understanding and wrote an address down for them before heading for home.

"We'll have dinner first," Hermione suggested, "And we need to find rooms."

"Swanson had a booking," Ron shrugged, "We can take that over. Tell them we're from the same department, which is true, and that Swanson was reassigned."

"Which is also true," Hermione smiled. They'd changed from Auror robes to Muggle clothes and her linen shirt was starting to look a little wilted beneath the smart suit set she wore. Low heels completed the picture and Ron kissed her cheek impulsively. He looked positively destitute beside her in his plain tee, jeans and suit jacket. He wore trainers, though he was fairly sure that Hermione could out run him in heels if the situation called for it.

"What was that for?" Hermione asked, and Ron sighed.

"Because you're you," he shrugged, unable to explain the complex rush of affection and gratitude he felt for his partner. Hermione seemed to understand without words though, because she patted his chest gently and led the way to the centre of town and the restaurants there. They'd eat and then go look up this nameless Professor before heading to the hotel for the night.

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