Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything in relation to J.K. Rowling's books!

Summary: This story is a possible novel size story… It may change from a short story to a novel series depending on the popularity and how many reviews I get. Anyway, in the original plot, this story is like a prologue story and the first real story starts off with the famous mysterious happenings trademark. I won't tell you what starts the real Harry Potter series that I'm writing, you'll just have to keep reading and find out.

Like I said, this is a prologue and has mostly a happy and everyday life after Harry, Ron, and Hermione graduate from Hogwarts. Set five years later where the trio, Luna, and Elle (I explain who this is in the story) live in a house that they share. Harry works in a unknown profession; Hermione works at the Ministry; Ron is a Quidditch player. The rating for this story stands on firm ground because of language and (just in case I decide to be risqué) include strong sexual scenes, but I'm not into that type of thing so I really doubt it.

A/N: If I mess up spelling or if you have any other comments, please feel free to review me and tell me off! Lol… I don't know if you ever got the chance to read a previous story titled Harry Potter and the Dreams of Deception? I advise you not to read it because at the time of it's publishing, I was defiantly not prepared to finish it. I know the reviewers for that story must be really fuming at me! I'm truly sorry for that and I will tell you now that I do not plan on finishing it anytime soon! I can't stress how sorry I am to leave the story hanging on its hinges and unfinished. Anyway…. On with the story.

Chapter One: Speculation

Hermione Granger laid an idle hand on a folder that had been titled as: H. Granger: Covert Recovery in her unique curls and swerves of her handwriting. Her other hand's fingers were wrapped around a muggle pen that sped across the paper in feverish swipes and flicks of her thin wrist.

Since her leave at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry five years ago, she had found it difficult to find a job of her liking. At one point, she wanted so much to be a Healer and with her grades that she graduated with, she could achieve it, but because she was used to being mischievous, when she was offered a job in Covert Operations, she took it.

So now, she sat in the study of a very large house in Oxford. She was making information retrieval reports made by Genevieve Hirchman and filing them into a folder that sent her reports to a file desk in her office at the Federation at which she worked. She had reluctantly taken the three hours to file, report and record a failed operation due to Genevieve, who had started just three weeks ago in the Novice Operations. The new member's rank was only two positions below from Covert Operations, which Hermione had stressed to her Chief, Eden Williams, that was a too big a step for Genevieve. She believed that Genevieve should be in Trainee Filing, which was like a reporting job that only required her to read reports made by Trainees and Hermione believed that was the only job for her. But the Chief insisted that was what she needed to gain self- esteem, which was more than what Hermione could say for her. Genevieve reminded Hermione of Tonks in the aspect that she was clumsy and was thick headed. Hermione merely shook her head in disbelief when Genevieve had passed both her physical and logical exams when Hermione thought so strongly that she wouldn't make it when she had started out as a recruit member.

Hermione heaved a heavy and tired sigh and got up slowly from the chestnut wood desk that was polished so finely, that she could she herself in it, even through dust if it had any. With a swift flick of her wrist and fingers, her folder disappeared, where she knew it would lay in her office the following morning. With that, she turned on her heel on the hard wood floor and walked into the hallway that forked out into the entrances of a bedroom, bathroom, foyer, sunroom and a empty room that always seemed to remain locked. It was strange to her. That room, of which she had only seen open once since the house was bought (which was the only time she'd seen it open after it was bought), had remained a mystery. She'd asked her roommates, Ron, Luna, Elle, and Harry why it'd been locked and who had done so. Harry had said he had and that was the end of it. They all tried to squeeze more out of him about it, but never managed to and it remained a mystery.

She continued on through the hallway where the soles of her shoes make loud and unabashed thuds and clicks as she walked until she came beside a door that led to Ron Weasley's room. At the moment, she didn't know where Ron was or where he would be other than the kitchen. His eating habits hadn't changed at all, thus the reason his room was close to the kitchen and she found this comical in it's own way. No one had changed really. Luna had a job at the magazine publications of the Quibbler and often went traveling for interviews and article topics on things like the Crumple-Horned Snorkack; Elle Frost, who Hermione had met at an old job at the Public Library, still worked there part time, but also had a job that included wedding planning; Ron was a Keeper for the Chudley Cannons (which both Hermione and Harry were more than pleased about because of Ron's nonstop praise for the team); Harry…

Harry had never told her what he really did. It was puzzling even for her. His traveling never had a schedule and never had a precise date on his return and when he did, he came home with unexplainable scratches and bruises that she would ungrudgingly heal without protest or word. She had planned to be a Healer and she guessed that nursing him was in exchange of her job at the…. Academy or Federation (if she needed a name to give where she worked for it was in no way connected to the Ministry). He would never even give an explanation when she did ask what had happened. He'd say that he fell off his broom, or the stairs or that it was dark and he didn't know what happened. But she wasn't fooled and he knew it, but he still tried.

She gave the wooden door another last and furtive glance before continuing down the hall and into the dimly lit foyer, where she took off her shoes a moment. A mirror hung by the cloak rack and desktop that contained a drawer full of keys, pens, etc and notes that were left behind for house mates to discover and read. Luna, she guessed, had taken a sticky note and had bewitched her drawing of a Snorkack to move across and off the paper onto surrounding sticky notes (Sort of like a moving portrait). Hermione didn't know if that was what a Snorkack was supposed to look like, but smiled still at her the drawing as it charged at a note from Ron that he wrote two weeks ago and the letters scurried across the paper to get out of the way. She hung her blood red cloak on the cloak rack gingerly so as not to make the others fall and pushed the kitchen door open with one hand and noticed Ron sitting at the island in the middle of the kitchen and smiled.

Not only had his personality not changed, but his appearance as well. He still had those trademark freckles across his nose and the flaming red hair and that boyish grin, but his chin seemed to have become more vivid. She opened a nearby cupboard and removed a mug for coffee and shook the cup slightly at him to offer him some and he shook his head. She frowned a little and prepared her coffee and sat down in the stool next to him and he gave her a small smile as she did so.

"Care to talk about what's bothering you?" she asked before taking a sip from her mug.

"There's not really anything to talk about." he shrugged and she could tell he had something on his mind.

"Okay…" she shrugged and took another sip of her coffee before he turned to her and frowned.

"I'm kinda- well, see…" he said after a good five minutes of silence and he seemed to be struggling and she placed her mug down on the wooden surface of the counter and listened avidly, "It's Harry. I just feel that he's… I guess-"

"Drifting apart?" she offered as that was what she felt at the moment and Ron scratched the back of his head and nodded and she knew that he was uncomfortable about talking about Harry behind his back so she left it hanging a moment.

Harry had been gone for three weeks and he hadn't even left a word of where he was going. This occurred possibly every three weeks or so and she had felt that she never really saw him anymore.

"I understand where you're coming from… Where's Luna? Doesn't she have the day off?" she asked, trying to change the subject.

"She got a notice saying that they needed her and she said she'd be back in…" he glanced at the clock that resembled the one he had at home that read 4:46 p.m., "about a hour. Wish Harry would do that more often and let us know something." he slipped in rather childishly and she frowned at him and realized that he was never good at taking a hint for she had wanted to drop the subject on him. "Elle's at work." he commented and she nodded as she took the last drink from her mug and took it to the dishwasher.

She blew air through her lips and stared out of the window. It was beautiful day outside and she wasn't due for work today.

"I think I'll go outside and enjoy the weather… Care to join? I believe that you wanted to do a bit of Quidditch practice for that game on Monday?" she asked.

"Are you offering to practice with me?" he asked critically, "I usually practice with my team or with Harry and he isn't-"

"Ron…" she groaned, "I get it: you're mad that he's always gone but everyone's busy." she said, "You yourself are usually gone on tournaments so it's not like he's the only one." she reasoned and he nodded. He had learned to just dodge battles and rows with her because they usually ended up putting one of the house mates in the middle of it and they both wanted to avoid it. But he knew that she was right and he let it go for the time being.

"If you want, you can just hit me…" he said jokingly, trying to mend a small fringe in mood toward each other that just occurred. She recognized this and though she knew he was trying to make things better, she gave him a rather disapproving stare and walked into the foyer, into the 'main hall', and up the stairs to her room to dress.

After doing so, she walked down into the main hall and was about to continue through the foyer to walk through the hall and into the sunroom until the front door opened slowly on it's hinges and a cloak laden Harry walked in. She smiled widely and noticed that he wasn't covered in injuries today and he seemed a little more happy too.

His appearance hadn't changed anymore than Ron's over a span of five years. His dark and unruly hair still stuck up in every direction and his green eyes still contained that soft yet sinister gaze. He hadn't removed his glasses and his smile seemed more handsome and broad. His facial features were more serious and chiseled but still his boyish charm and looks remained. She never knew how to describe him or how to classify him in his profile but she really never had a reason to do so.

"Well, what are you standing there for? Do you want me to leave?" he made to turn around as if he were going to leave again but she hugged him before he had the chance. She felt him wince slightly and she looked up at him worriedly.

"Harry, are you okay?" she asked as she stared at his glasses that were reflecting so much light from the sun, that she couldn't see his eyes past them. She looked down at her and she finally was able to see them and he looked slightly tired and haggard.

"I'm fine… I just need a lie down." he said and loosened her grip on him as he walked rather lazily into the main hall.

"Where were you and why didn't you tell anyone where you were going?" she asked at his back. He didn't stop, but she saw him resist leaving her there without answering. "Why won't you answer me?" she asked frustratingly. He laid a hand on the arch frame that led to the main hall and stopped, then turned to look at her and she now remembered how he had the nerve to destroy the Dark Lord almost six years ago. His deep and vibrant green eyes had such a look of anguish and yet tranquility, that it made her shiver slightly at the sheer thought of this combination. How was it that he could look at someone so murderously and powerfully, and yet be so placid and kind?

He stared down at the wooden floor for a moment before finally, without another word, turning to leave for his room. She watched him go and remembered abruptly, as if the thought hit her, that Ron was in the back waiting for her. She closed the front door which had been left ajar until then and gave him one last glance before hurrying down through the hall to the sunroom.

When she got there, she sat and watched Ron fly around on his broom… the 'Silver Flash' or something. He had told her what the name was before but she never kept much attention to what kind of Quidditch move or broom he knew or had.

She watched him, thought so deep in thought she didn't really see him at all.

Why had Harry winced the way he did? He was probably hurt in the ribs or something else gruesome the way he prattles around… she thought savagely and took it back. How could she even think something like that when he probably needed her, though he denied it. She stared out into the gardenand made a mental note to check in on him in another thirty minutes when Luna walked in. Hermione jumped slightly, but smiled as Luna took a seat next to her in the white, wooden chair as Ron swerved to a stop near the ground to greet her too.

"Hiya, 'Mione!" she squealed childishly and hugged her like she hadn't seen her in months. Luna had come up with that nickname during the time they had lived together and Hermione hadn't paid it any mind and had become quite attached to the name for she had never been given such a nickname other than her mother.

"Hey, Luna… Why did you have to leave?" she asked as Ron came through the door into the sunroom and sat down on a white, cushioned couch across from them, broom in hand.

"The Executive Producer- you know the one who's always 'Muagh' ?" she pulled a face to imitate Anthony Habastan, the Executive Producer of the Quibbler, in a rather immature and crude way that resembled a mad dog and Hermione couldn't help but smile as she did too. Anthony had quite the reputation to always get frustrated and mad at something more than once, "Well, he went completely- Oh, hey, Ron- berserk when I told him that the article on Kirley Duke -the one about whether she and her husband had called it quits- was going to be late because the Journalist needed time to back check." she shrugged and folded her legs while leaning back lazily in the chair, "Someone tipped me off that the story may be false and Estella had to make sure of what was what." Hermione was not the least bit surprised that someone had called the story out for the Quibbler, in Hermione's humble opinion, was full of untruthful articles. How Luna could continue a string of different topics and conversations in one breath was beyond her.

"So they called you in just for that?" Ron asked.

"Yes… Anthony couldn't miss a chance to tell me off… Where's Harry and Elle? I haven't seen Harry for a few weeks." she looked around as if expecting to see him apparate into the room. That was impossible in itself. Harry, when the house was bought, had suggested that they put up non- apparation charms all around the area because of the potential threat that someone may want to take revenge. Hermione frowned at the idea, but thought that Harry may be right, even though at the present time, all the Death Eaters had been caught and, for all Hermione knew, were in Azkaban.

"He's gone"

"He just arrived." Hermione and Ron gave each other looks and Ron's eyebrows disappeared behind his hair.

"He's here? Well, why didn't you say so?" he asked as he got up to leave and Hermione gave him a shake of her head.

"He's probably sleeping. He- He looked tired." she said and Ron made goldfish imitations as if trying to figure out what to say until he finally threw himself into the couch to sit down again.

"He isn't hurt is he?" he asked as he let his broom lean against the wall. Before she could answer, Luna asked,

"What kind of broom is that? It's new isn't it?" she said as she stared at it fixedly.

"Yeah," he said proudly, the subject of Harry momentarily forgotten, "Quicksilver 90... The team just bought 'em." Luna fingered over the fine wooden polish and stared at it in awe as child would do to a glass window of a toy shop.

"What's so new about this model?" Hermione asked, trying to get Harry off her mind.

"It's sleeker and it also has an acceleration of almost 250 miles per hour in 15 seconds." he said and she couldn't help but feel happy for him. It was so hard for Ron to go almost throughout his whole life and never being able to just go out and buy whatever he pleased. Though it wasn't the Weasley's fault that this happened, it still was difficult.

After their leave of Hogwarts, Ginny had done well for herself as well and made quite a fortune on inventing her own beauty potions and charms for she always showed particular talent in Potions and Charms. Hermione heard from Luna that Ginny had ran into Neville in Diagon Alley and ever since had been together often. Fred and George were doing wonderfully themselves in their Weasley's Wizard Weazes shop in Diagon Alley and their wealth had skyrocketed in a span of almost seven years. She was happy that their luck had turned around.

"We're going to win that match against the Wasps…" he commented.

"That would be great, wouldn't it? Then we could go out and celebrate!" Luna squealed.

"Yeah…" Ron said enthusiastically as he stared at his broom in admiration. Luna and Ron seemed to have the most in common when it came to partying and they usually were the ones to party the hardest. Hermione shook her head slightly when a sudden memory came to mind after they had bought the house and they 'celebrated.' Needless to say, it wouldn't happen again in the house.

"I'm going to check on Harry…" she said abruptly and got up from her seat while Luna and Ron switched gazes and fell silent.

Hermione reached his room in a matter of three minutes and stood outside his door stiffly. For a odd reason, she felt almost foreboding and she gave it a mental shrug as she opened the door, the light from the hall flooding the doorway.

He sat in a chair by the window, fast asleep. He was snoring slightly and his glasses had slipped down to the tip of his nose. She slowly and cautiously took them off and had just about taken them off when he bolted awake and grabbed her wrist sternly in reflex. She winced at the sudden grip at her dainty wrist and almost yelped out in surprise when she stopped herself. As he realized it was her, he let go and laid his hand upon his middle.

"Sorry! Are you alright?" he asked and she nodded as she rubbed her wrist. She was surprised at his reflexes and the strength at which he grabbed her.

"It's okay…" she said and she pulled a chair beside him. "What's bothering you?" she asked rather bluntly and he gave her a look that wanted to fool her into think nothing, but she wasn't fooled. "I know there's something wrong." she pressed.

He seemed to battle with himself and she could tell by the way his eyes darted feverishly as if looking for a way out. She couldn't help but notice that he seemed to rub his middle as if trying to sooth a pain.

"How come you're hurt?" she reached out to observe it and pulled his shirt up to see that he had been bandaged recently. He didn't try to hide it from her and he averted her gaze and instead stared out the window, though not really taking in anything that occurred outside it. She noticed that a miniscule amount of blood had seeped through the gauze and she looked up at him. "Do you want me to help?" she asked though even if he said 'no' she would anyway, even if she had to bind him. After a moment he eventually looked at her and nodded reluctantly. He didn't want her to help him but he realized that she'd probably do it anyway.

She repaired all the old bandages and in a span of ten minutes was done, for someone had already bandaged him rather nicely. She folded her arms and stared at his wavering gaze sternly. She wanted to know how and why he was hurt so badly. She guessed that something with great mass had fell on him because his ribs seemed to be mending and skin tissue had been scraped away with what appeared to be cement or split wood from the patterns that she could see.

"I want to know what's going on…" she said simply and he let is head roll to meet her stare.

"Hermione… It's complicated-"

"Complicated?" she said, cutting him off. She was becoming anxious and frustrated. "I can understand physical complications," she pointed at Harry's ribs, "but I don't understand why you can't just tell me what's going on!"

"Because I can't!" he said, his voice raising slightly in his own frustration. He hated fighting with Ron or Hermione or anyone, but he just simply couldn't explain this to her.

"Why?" Harry let out a sigh and ruffled his hair.

"I- Hermione I just can't… You don't understand…" she bit her bottom lip and sat back down in her seat next to him.

"But I want to understand." she said pleadingly. He kept toggling his gaze on her as if contemplating really thoroughly, then sighed.

He said very simply five words that made her head swim and she felt so stupid as he muttered,

"I'm Head of Covert Operations."

A/N: How do you like? This has to be my second fic and I planned this one for like… three years? I dunno, but the next chapter should be up in the next couple of days, but expect it sometime by next Tuesday. I know that sounds like a long way away, but it takes me a while to comb through everything for spell check make sure that I didn't miss any major details for future stories b/c like I said, this is a series. Anyway, plz review!