Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling. This story is loosely based on 'The Dark Crusader' by Alistair Maclean(only the first part, though).

Summary: I'm hopeless at writing summaries(apologetic grin). This is a H/Hr story of course, with a happy ending(I'm a sucker for happy endings). Oh, and by the way, this is an AU fic.

Chapter 1: The Beginning

Kingsley Shacklebolt sat in his office waiting for his top agent to make his appearance. His usually impassive face now bore a barely perceptible expression of worry. There was a slight sound, which made him look up alertly. A tall, bespectacled young wizard with a mop of unruly coal-black hair had just orbed into the austere room that served as Chief Shacklebolt's office. This individual wore a lopsided, rather reckless smile that belied the ruthlessness he was capable of in the face of danger.

"What a night, Chief," remarked the young man as if he were talking about the weather, "Longbottom and I did quite well, I must say."

"I suppose finishing off seven maniacal dark elves and their chimera does classify as doing 'quite well'," said Shacklebolt dryly.

The smile disappeared from the younger wizard's face very abruptly and his green eyes took on a glacial appearance. "They were destroying that village and massacring little children to torture their parents." The monotone sent a slight chill up Chief Shacklebolt's spine as he imagined the fate the dark elves met at his agents' hands. Shaking his head slightly to rid himself of horrific mental images, he decided to change the subject.

"Harry, I have no doubt you and Neville did your work well. But I didn't call you in here to praise you." He paused and Harry grabbed the opportunity to mentally remark that he never called in people to his office to praise them for a job well done. Shacklebolt cleared his throat before continuing, "A couple of months ago, the Daily Prophet ran an advertisement for…here, look at it."

Harry took the piece of parchment and read it before looking up expectantly at his boss. "They want to form a quidditch team, so they were advertising for tryouts in Australia. They also wanted a coach for the new team. The salary stated here is very tempting. It also clearly states, that while all potential players must be married, no children will be entertained."

"Doesn't that strike you as funny?" asked Shacklebolt.

"Not especially. The managers might be allergic to children or something. Classic eye-roll, Chief. But I know these managers. They always have some weird conditions attached, Merlin knows why."

"Potter, you know what I'm talking about." Shacklebolt's was weary.

"You sounded so old and jaded just then, Chief," said Harry sympathetically. "But if you're asking why the preference was for married players when most managers prefer focused single players, I don't have an answer. But it does state that they make arrangements for spouses to travel with the team all the time. Probably for the better health and happiness of the team-none of my business, really" The tone was light but the eyes said 'there's something you still need to tell me'.

The expression did not go unnoticed by Shacklebolt, who could his read all his agents perfectly well. "It seems that a couple of players and their wives have gone missing-completely." He took a deep breath. "As also the coach and his wife."

"Someone I know?" It was very casually asked.

"Ron Weasley and his wife Luna."

Harry's expression was unreadable. Ronald Weasley was his best friend, almost a brother. Ron had been severely injured in the war against Voldemort, leaving him unable to play quidditch, but his strategic mind made him ideal for the post of coach. And now he was missing.

"Since when?" asked Harry quietly.

"Couple of weeks. You were away at Athens and I wanted to confirm the reports. Seamus and Lavender Finnigan and Dean and Angela Thomas are the others missing. You know them from your Hogwarts days, I believe?"

Harry nodded curtly. "Where do I come in?"

"They've just advertised for more players. And since you are quite the quidditch player, you shall go and investigate. Not to be offensive, but Longbottom and quidditch don't go well together, so you're team is going to be broken up this once"

"When do I leave?"

"Tomorrow night."

"Right, Chief. I'll see you in the morning, then. Good night." Harry got up to leave, but Shacklebolt lifted his hand to stall him.

"Aren't you forgetting something? The advert states that applicants should be married."

Harry stared at his mentor and leader incredulously. "Please don't tell me that you've 'arranged' my marriage certificate and are going to burden me with some witch?"

"Even better. You know the rules, Harry. Wizarding laws are unbendable when it comes to marriage. No marriage certificate without marriage. So, you're getting married at 8 in the morning tomorrow."

"Bloody hell."

"Yes, and you'll want to meet your wife, of course." Kingsley Shacklebolt raised his speaking crystal. "Laura? Yes, send in the future Mrs. Potter, please."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" You clever bugger, added Harry silently. "Heck, Kingsley, you know I have a fiancée."

"Ginny Weasley, though an admirable young lady, is a fashion designer, not an agent. You can get the marriage annulled afterward. But this is necessary."

"She's not going to like this. And you're sending a woman with me, knowing what happened to Ron and Luna. Not to mention Dean, Seamus and their wives…" Harry broke off as a young witch orbed into the office. She had cinnamon brown hair, honest brown eyes and an intelligent face. Harry had seen her before, this Beauxbaton product. He didn't particularly like what he thought to be her supreme self-assurance.

"There you are, Hermione, my dear. You've met Potter before, haven't you?" said Shacklebolt with an air of innocence that deceived nobody.

"Yes, sir." Of course they'd met at Athens. He'd found her encyclopedia-like knowledge and bossiness unbearable and irritating. She'd found him too arrogant for her liking.

"Nice to meet you again, Miss Granger," said Harry coldly. "Do you know what you're letting yourself in for, in this assignment?"

Hermione Granger ignored his veiled allusion to her incompetence as an agent and turned to Chief Shacklebolt instead. "Mr. Potter is being all chivalrous and noble on my account,is he, Chief?" she asked sweetly.

"I'm afraid he is, rather. But none of this 'Mr.Potter' and 'Miss Granger' any more, all right? It automatically means you two have to be convincing as a young married couple in love." Shacklebolt lit his pipe with his wand as he spoke.

Harry grimaced inwardly but said nothing.

"Very well. Thank you for your concern. Harry," said Hermione. "Most kind of you, but I can take care of myself. I'm accompanying you to watch your back, after all."

Harry decided not to reply but give her what he hoped was a cool, enigmatic smile. Kingsley Shacklebolt chuckled mentally. Score one for Hermione he thought amusedly.

"Well then, off you go. You both have a wedding to attend tomorrow."

Hermione smiled and orbed out of the office and Harry followed her out.

It was only that night when he was in bed that Harry wondered what on earth the Weasleys would think of his impromptu wedding. He couldn't say it was an assignment. Did they even know Ron was missing? And Ginny-what would she say?

Harry Potter, for the first time in years, was hit with an overwhelming feeling of apprehension.

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A.N: I would really appreciate reviews. This is my first H/Hr fic. Be kind, people.