Chapter Nine

October 1939

Hermione's blood ran cold; the nasally voice of an official came over the radio. Her hand trembled, wrapped almost too tightly around her cup of tea as her eyes glanced unseeingly over the street. Turmoil wracked her body as the words continued to pour through the static and into her comprehension. A month ago, Germany and the Soviet Union had signed a non-aggression treaty so the Nazi military could invade Poland without fear of Stalin declaring war. Not long after the British had entered military alliance with Poland.

German aircrafts bombarding Wielun, over a thousand died in the bombings and five minutes later a Nazi battleship had struck the free city of Danzig, all on September first. Poland was under heavy attack and threat of invasion. The Polish military fought valiantly- but with so much cavalry against tanks and airborne artillery they were no match for the might of the Third Reich.

The siege of Warsaw had been heavy with bombardments by the German Luftwaffe. They didn't only target government and military outfits- they struck hospitals, water companies, schools, mostly civilian faculties. Civilian casualties were high, bodies littering the streets, covered in dust from the wreckage of the buildings around them. The German tanks and infantry marched down the streets of Warsaw September 28th. Capitulation of the Polish to Nazi forces after such devastating defeat had been imminent.

Hermione had thought she had seen war. From Voldemort to World War I she was aware of the high stress situations, the physical, mental, and emotional strain of watching men, women, and children die for nothing. She thought she would be prepared for this one, though intellectually she'd known it would be harsher, more violent.

Hermione had not been prepared, the mental image of a singed sock no bigger than the length of her fingers with a child's severed foot still tucked inside of it played repeatedly in her mind.

She hadn't known this depth of war- this cruelty before.

World War II.

She ran her trembling right hand over her forehead, wiping it on her napkin when it came away damp with sweat. World War II. Hermione had dreaded this since the day she realized she'd come back one hundred years. One of, if not the, most heinous and brutal wars in human history. The highest death toll and the most profound lesson to teach the world for generations to come.

Discrimination breeds hate, and hate brings only destruction.

It was a lesson that the wizarding world wouldn't learn for another fifty years.

"Frauline?" A gruff voice disrupted her thoughts, bringing her mind from her original time to the present; a time where WWII had been declared but the holocaust had already been underway for years. As of now, with the Germans occupying Poland the worst was yet to come. Hermione looked up and schooled her features into a coy smile, trying to appear non threatening, her glamored blue eyes roved over the man who had sat next to her at the bar. She had a part to play, after all.

The man was a prime example of Hitler's perfect Aryan, blond, blue eyed, and perfectly chiseled. She wouldn't be surprised if the Nazi's had propaganda with his face all over it spread across Germany and into Poland. As her eyes drifted over his uniform she fought to keep the false smile across her face; military standard uniform, swastika, and the distinct glittering SS pin on his collar.

Being in this man's presence felt disturbingly reminiscent of being in the presence of Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Deutsch sprechen?"

"Jawohl." She nodded in respect to his station, hoping to avoid being shot.

His cool eyes glanced down at her, and he leaned in close. His brandy tinged breath softly blew her curls away from her ear. "Die Männer werden bald hier sein, ich schlage vor, du gehst."

Chills ran down her spine and caused goose flesh to rise on her arms despite her layers of clothing. "Ja, danke schön."

Hermione gathered her things quickly, heeding the SS officer's advice to make herself scarce before his men showed up. Word traveled fast, and the word on the SS was they tended to copulate with whatever women they could find. It wasn't always consensual. She wondered, as she left the small tavern, if she'd just come across a decent Nazi or if he'd merely decided that she was in the way and needed to be removed.

Suggestion was enough to get her moving, that was certain.

Stepping out onto the destroyed streets of Warsaw Hermione's heart was heavy and mind troubled. It was late afternoon, unsurprisingly the streets were crawling with SS and civilians. It had only been a few days since the Nazi's had completely occupied Poland and the last city had surrendered, yet they had been in Warsaw for well over a week and in the country for over a month. Her movements were steady and calculated, taking her deeper into the city where her home sat luckily untouched by the bombings. If she moved too quickly she'd gather attention for suspicious behavior, if she walked slowly it would invite trouble she didn't need.

She stopped for a moment at a fruit stall and bought a sack of groceries, keeping her focus around herself. Mad Eye's consistent bellowing of 'constant vigilance' in the back of her mind was serving as a reminder that these were perilous times.

The farther she went the sharper her eyes grew. Hermione counted the Nazi flags in the windows and hanging near the doors of every establishment. People who had easily caved to their new dictatorship to survive. And could anyone blame them for it? During this time all of Europe was survival of the fittest.

Hermione met the eyes of many in the year she'd been in Poland, gathering resources and intel. She'd known what was coming, devised a plan of attack for what she was going to do, and had enacted it the minute she'd gotten word that the Nazi's were invading. She wondered to herself just how many eyes she'd met would rot by the end of this.

How many people she'd known would die in the next five and a half years?

Sighing, Hermione took a left turn down one of the busy streets towards her home, banishing her musings. Since her time spent in Russia she often found her mind drifting to darker sentiments and that line of thinking would yield no happy returns.

As she continued down the street Hermione tried not to seem aware of the men and women walking in the gutter, white bands embroidered with the star of David wrapped around their arm. She tried to ignore civil liberties being stripped from people who'd done nothing more than exist and become medical personnel, farmers, merchants, bakers, intellectuals, musicians, and so on.

People who didn't deserve what was coming.

No one deserved what was coming.

Her home wasn't far now, just another couple of blocks in the heart of Warsaw. She pressed forward until she saw him; a small boy who couldn't have been older than ten wearing cut off trousers despite the chill in the air and a tightly buttoned jacket. He was storming, fury in his eyes as they focused on a group of Nazi soldiers who were mocking an older Jewish woman. The Nazi's were picking at the woman's clothing and telling her how poor she looked, how disgusted they were by her.

Hermione slowed her pace, watching as the small boy marched as well as a young man could. With the bravery of Godric himself the boy stood directly behind a German soldier and kicked him as hard as he could in the back of the man's knee, causing him to fall unceremoniously in shock. The men whirled around, the older woman's eyes widened in fear as they descended upon the small boy who'd come to her aide. She waved her hands from behind the men, in hopes that the boy would heed her warning and run to no avail.

The boy's face was set into a hard reproach as he hollered at the men to leave the woman alone. As the soldier he'd kicked threw out his hands to grab the boy and the other men's hand's drew their luger pistols the boy turned with wide eyed fear and darted down the street.

The men were shouting, racing down the street after the child to issue harsh discipline.

The boy ran past Hermione and the men were right behind him. Hermione, with her wand in her hand and tucked safely under her coat to hide it, whispered a charm that would raise the bricks on the street just slightly. The boy passed over them easily, and then men tripped one by one on top of each other, allowing the boy time to get away.

All the while, Hermione hadn't stopped walking.

November 1939

As time wore on one thing became abundantly clear.

Anti-semitism was alive and thriving. Hermione couldn't count the times she'd seen Polish natives harassing or joining in on the beatings of the Jewish as they tried to walk the streets. She found herself helping where she could, and where she couldn't she refused to turn away.

She listened to the harassment, but could do nothing. Nothing but slip a tiny piece of paper into the pockets of any Jew who got close enough to her.

World War II was a nightmare already, the Jewish already being eradicated in Europe, and it would only get worse from here.

Hermione knew, based on the timeline, she had little time to help as many Jews escape from Poland as she could. She'd been working on a way to do so for the past year and a half while establishing herself in Warsaw. It had been surprisingly easy, now that she had worked what the British Ministry considered to be 'dark magic' to implant memories of herself in muggles around her.

Hermione had created an entire persona, someone who never existed but everyone around her believed they watched her grow up. She'd always had some talent with memory charms, after all.

Lena Dubinski was her name here, she'd glamoured herself to look like the perfect Aryan by day, and she was running her own little part in the Polish Underground State by night.

Hermione had set up a series of safe houses to move Jews until they reached the coast. A ship left once a week for Sweden and just miles off the coast would run into the Baltic Offensive, which would grant them safe passage the rest of the trip.

That was only the line that Hermione had set up, she was certain that other groups had done so as well and hoped to pass hers off as a part of theirs so that history would not acknowledge it. She couldn't shake the feeling that this time, unlike any other time she did anything, she was changing the future.

Hermione walked into the townhouse she'd bought when she came to Warsaw, pulling her jacket off and hanging it on the hook by the door. She carefully tapped her left foot twice against the base heater in the walkway and climbed the stairs, pausing every third step until she made it fifteen steps.

It was her code to let those hidden in her house know it was her and she was alone.

"I've brought food." She whispered, aware that she lived in a place where the neighbors were nosey and the walls were thin.

Although she could apparate away if SS officers stormed her home she knew that those she harbored could not, and it was her responsibility to keep them hidden and safe.

Hermione smiled as a man removed the false wall in her closet and a small child walked out silently, eyes wide and a happy smile pasted across his face. She handed the young man the bag and held her arms out to the child. He happily stepped into her waiting arms and allowed himself to be picked up. She carefully walked down the stairs, keeping her steps light. After she had settled in the kitchen she motioned for the young man to come down.

He kept his steps even lighter, careful not to let a floorboard creak.

Once settled in the kitchen they began to dig into the meal she'd brought. It wasn't much, but it was balanced. Meat and vegetables. She'd even picked up fruit from the market but she had to be careful not to buy too much, as far as the people who 'knew' her were concerned she was alone in her home.

If they suspected she was feeding more than herself, she would be in for it. History told how cruel these times were.

"Henrik, why don't you turn on the radio, quietly please." Hermione whispered to the young boy.

He smiled and nodded as he hopped from his chair and tiptoed into the living room.

Now alone, the young man whispered. "Any news?"

Deciding to stay in the moment, Hermione sighed and did not allow herself to drift and think of what will be happening, but what was happening in this moment. "They began sectioning off a part of the city today."

"What for?"

"To corral the local Jewish populace." She started bitterly.

There was a pause of silence, nothing pervading it but the sound of the radio switching on in the living room and the low murmur of whatever show the child had tuned in on.

"So they will be segregating us further?" The anger in his eyes caused Hermione to consider her next words carefully.

"Unfortunately yes, the allied forces are no closer to entering through the barricades the Germans have set up in Poland. The Fuhrer has dominion over Warsaw and he-"

"-wants us all dead," his tone was profound, "I should be out there with my remaining family, instead I hide like a coward."

The brothers had only been in her home for five days awaiting relocation. They were among the first families affected by German rule. Within the first couple months of Nazi occupation soldiers had followed his sister home and they proceeded to make a game out of torturing them for the next month.

Until one night they killed the boys' sister.

The family, unable to do anything, sparked a bit of a revolution in the streets and began causing issues amongst the soldiers.

A missing gun here, a report of rerouted ammunition supplies there. It was all leading up to a sort of rebellion, then the boys' parents were caught and murdered in the street.

The small organization they had fractured that night and went into hiding. A few weeks later the two of them wound up in Hermione's home awaiting the next move.

"Klaus, your duty is to stay alive and keep Henrik alive. He's six, he doesn't understand what's happening and if he loses you he loses the last family he has," Hermione whispered harshly, "if you keep doing what you have been, you'll reach the coast in less than a month and be on your way through ally occupied water into Sweden, then you'll be safe."

He didn't look convinced so Hermione placed her hand over top of his clenched fist. "Do it for your brother."

May 1941

Life went on in Warsaw. There was no bleak monotony, women still had brunch with their friends and had dinner parties on Friday nights. Nazi soldiers were quite charming over a few shared drinks and music. Oppression was quietly brushed aside in favor of opulence.

And yet they ignored how often an officer would steal away one of their daughters overnight, returning them bruised, beaten, and their innocence lost.

The colors of spring and the laughter of children who had been stuck inside all winter resonated as it seemed every person in Warsaw was out on this lovely spring day.

It was easy for the citizens of Warsaw to forget that people were starving to death on the other side of the river.

It wasn't easy for Hermione to forget; and she didn't want to.

She hid her disgust with these people well, because she had a higher purpose here.

But many were fighting to survive. If a Nazi soldier thinks you're in league with a resistance, or worse you were a sympathizer your family would discover you missing. Or you would be killed with family in attendance to set an example.

Fear is, was, and will always be a powerful motivator.

Still, Hermione shopped for one, perhaps purchasing one or two extra fruits. During the day, always.

o-o-o-o

Tonight, like many nights since rationing in the Ghetto had gone down to less than 1200 calories per person per day had been established, Hermione disillusioned herself and walked the streets of Warsaw. Over the years she'd become genuinely familiar with the city.

Silent as the night, she waved her hand unlocking the deadbolt of one of the more known markets in Warsaw.

Once inside she began stuffing a bag, large but with no undetectable extension charm, full of fruits, vegetables, bandages and a few bottles of aspirin. In the bag already were a few vials of her own brew of antibiotics, more potent than the capsuled version but she had a hard time harvesting the ingredients for it with how busy she'd been, so she didn't have enough.

The ghetto was riddled with disease and death, nothing she could do would ever be enough.

Once she had left the shop she disillusioned herself locked up once again.

She walked across the soldier occupied gates, ducking down allies and into the shadows whenever she got too close to patrolmen, they couldn't see her but they might be able to hear her and she wasn't willing to risk it. She moved silently down the street and around the side of the ghetto before whistling a quick tune while placing a wordless cushioning charm on the bag so that its fall wouldn't break the vials. When she heard the return whistle she threw the bag over and listened to it hit before walking back the direction that she came.

She was nearing the turnaround where she would be able to see the guards when she heard a commotion. Checking to make sure she was still disillusioned Hermione looked around the corner, heart stuttering in fear at the cries of a child in terror.

His tiny legs were hanging out from a sewage grate underneath the brick wall of the ghetto. Two soldiers were using their guns and beating them while he flailed and cried for help. He was shrieking loudly, blood beginning to pool underneath him. Hermione could hear the hurried footsteps of more soldiers descending upon them, and the frantic cries of the people on the other side of the wall trying to help the boy.

Without truly thinking it through, Hermione pointed her wand and spoke in a wobbly voice; "Immobulus Maximus." All the Nazi soldiers froze, including the ones who'd just arrived on scene, eyes darting around trying to catch the supernatural culprit.

The boy was crying thick sobs when she made it over to him and the soldiers. Holding back her own tears, calling on all the strength she'd acquired as a war nurse in the trenches, she pretended not to see the blood, or the way the boy's legs were nearly flat and the way his pants were shredded and skin flayed so badly she could see bone.

Hermione attempted to soothe the boy. "It's going to be alright, love, come out of there and I'll heal you."

The boy's cries began to subside and his body went still, Hermione was able to pull his torso out from underneath the wall. She frowned when he still didn't fidget as she turned him over to have a look at any injuries aside from his legs. She almost dropped him when she saw his eyes, cold and detached, and his chest unmoving.

The boy had died before she could save him.

With pure, cold fury Hermione laid the child back down on the pavement and levitated him over the wall. She hoped his family would find him so they could mourn. She couldn't blink back the surge of hot tears, or the tremble in her body as the rage took over and she canceled her disillusionment to turn cold eyes upon the frozen soldiers.

This time, there was a cold, predatory calculation to her actions as she slowly took the gun from one of the soldiers hands.

She left them all immoble and stepped up to the first one. She leveled the Ruger at his forehead, his eyes widened and she pulled the trigger. He dropped.

She stepped up to the second one, her body positively trembled with jubilant glee as she stared him in the eye, him and the others begging for mercy all around her, leveled the barrel in-between his eyes and pulled the trigger.

She stepped up to the third one, and she smelt the urine before she noticed his saturated trousers. Hermione grinned. Gave a small laugh at the fear in the monster's eyes as she pulled the trigger.

Hermione stepped up to the last one, smiled and tilted her head. This was the one who was beating the child mercilessly when she'd happened upon them. This one had looked like he was taking perverse pleasure in harming the child. So she would show him the same. She leveled the Ruger at his left knee cap, and pulled the trigger. He screamed as much as he was allowed to be- immobilized like he was. Then the same with the right. Tears slipped from his eyes as curses of eternal damnation fell from his lips. She shot him directly in each shoulder, and unloaded the last bullet to nestle between his balls.

She dropped the gun on top of his chest with a satisfied smirk, clip empty. She leaned down so her face was close to his while blood welled up and fell from his mouth.

Hermione hissed, in German so he could understand her. "How does it feel? When the tables turn… and four little rats meet a predator."

August 1941

Hermione was quite sure she was dreaming. Her breathing was slowed, almost too slow to be keeping her alive. All around her crickets chirped and the sound of water slipping passed moss covered stones awakened her senses. The smell of smoke from a campfire eased her soul like a balm and her eyes opened. There was no fire in front of her, but the broken derelict structure of the temple atop Mount Motuo was lit by several thousand fireflies blinking at her slowly.

She blinked at the scene, feeling nostalgic and happy when her dreams were usually dark reminders of all she'd lost.

Harry's bottle green eyes closed and Ginny's screams when Hagrid had carried him back to her presumably dead at Voldemort's wand. Silas, dying in her arms to a disease that was considered curable now, in the 40s but hadn't been back then. Isobel, blaming Hermione for not being able to save her husband. The Italian family, screaming and throwing things at her because she didn't do more to save their brother from dying on the frontlines in the trenches. Master Katiya, and the way her body fell to the ground, died on Grindelwald's order.

And more recently, the young boy she couldn't save and the face of the man she shot five times and left to bleed to death in the streets, murdered in cold blood.

Her eyes reopened meeting with kind ones on a wrinkles face, lips pulled up into a warm smile.

A liver spotted hand shot out, a finger poking her roughly in the forehead.

"Hermione Granger, you still think too much."

Hermione released a dry sob. "Shen Li." She shot forward to wrap her arms around the man's shoulders but grasped at nothing but smoke. She fell through it and landed in a heap on the stone ground with a muffled cry at the shock.

A light, gentle chuckle (just how she remembered) sounded behind her. "Always too busy, impatient and contemplative. You forget to feel," he sent her a sad smile from where he sat as still as a statue while she righted herself and dusted her shoulders, "you forget that you cannot beat energy into submission. You must submit to the energy."

"I was, I did… the energy showed me that vision of Harry and Ginny." Hermione frowned deeply at Shen.

He smacked her over the head with his stave, which hadn't been there before. Hermione yelped and rubbed her head wondering if that would bruise when she was back to reality or if this was really just a mind trick.

"Just because it's in your head does not mean it is not real, Hermione Granger. All things are possible with energy."

She narrowed her eyes. "Your legilimency is still just as annoying as it always was, Shen."

With a hearty grin, Shen Li laid his staff over his crossed legs and leaned slightly forward, studying her. "There is danger coming, Hermione Granger, you must prepare."

"What danger?" She perked up, feeling the shift in the dream like smoke solidifying into something dark and corporeal. The darkness causes illicit shivers to work their way down her spine and through her limbs. "Prepare, how?"

A low, menacing laugh echoed over the space. Hermione glanced around, grabbled for her wand and found that it wasn't there.

Right, she thought, dream. It's not real.

A familiar shrill, manic laugh that gave her chills rang out just after the deeper raspy laugh and she was on high alert. She knew that part of her hindbrain recalled that high pitched laughter but from where she couldn't say. But the feeling of fear that raced through her body was all too real.

"Prepare, Hermione Granger. Danger approaches." Shen's voice drew her eyes back to him, only to see his kind face replaced but the one of the Nazi she'd shot five times in Warsaw. Blood seeped from his open mouth, eyes completely void with an arm outstretched.

She screamed just as the fingers wrapped around her throat.

"Bloody hell!" Hermione breathed heavily shooting out of her bed as soon as she realized she had woken, her body soaked in cold sweat and sheets utterly drenched.

Her heart raced and she took a moment to close her eyes and breathe, slowly locking the dream away in her head under occlumency shields. She flicked her fingers a few times, drying and cleansing both her sheets and her person while she tried to control her terror.

She woke up like this more nights than not.

It was fortunate that for the time being she shared her house with no others. She usually kept silencing charms up regardless, but having someone else around when she was so out of sorts would've been hard. For those she harbored to safety, she needed to project strength, and she couldn't do that when she felt so weak.

Hermione left her room, forcing herself to feel safer by turning on every light as she went down to the kitchen. She filled the kettle and set it on the stove before collapsing into a kitchen chair, rubbing her temples from the splitting headache she was getting.

Curious, she ran a hand over the back of her head and realized with a slight tremble that there was a bruised bump where Shen Li had hit her in her dreamscape. Unnerved, she glanced at the metal napkin holder she had on the table and confirmed there were no bruises around her throat from the soldier's hand.

The kettle began to whistle and she set about making tea. A sharp knock on the front door made her pause, glancing up the clock to see that it wasn't quite three in the morning yet. Sometimes, Polish underground fighters came by to drop someone off for her to secure passage for at odd times in the morning. She was used to it, even had wards set up to wake her from sleep should someone step onto the porch at any time.

But so close after Shen Li's warning gave Hermione pause. All the lights in the house were on, certainly whoever was outside knew she was awake. She couldn't avoid answering the door, and it was someone who needed her help she needed to make haste. With a quick cursory check of her warding and her occlumency shields, Hermione headed to the door and used wandless nonverbal magic to silence the sound while she opened it.

"Hey, honey," a sweet looking blonde woman said in English with a New York accent and a saccharine smile, "names Queenie Goldstein, can I come in a sec? Won't be long, just need to talk." She pulled her hand just slightly out of her pocket, turning it so the light from inside gently illuminated her wand.

Hermione's eyes widened just slightly and she nodded, stepping aside to allow the witch inside.

Queenie walked into the kitchen and sat delicately in the chair Hermione had vacated.

"Tea?" Hermione asked as she walked back to her kettle and the cup she'd just made.

"Oh! Sure, honey. Two sugars."

She set about making the tea quietly, and placed both mugs on the table, taking the seat directly across from the American, studying her. Hermione readied herself for quick wandless offensive magic in less than a heartbeat if this witch thought to do something uncouth. Queenie seemed to be doing the same, to Hermione as she took a sip of her tea and set it down.

"Don't look so worried, sweetie, I'm not MCUSA. Used to be a decade ago, not an Auror if you're wonderin', but I've moved on now." Queening smiled a charming smile, and Hermione grew more suspicious. "Word on the street is you're a healer, a damn good one. too. Use the dark arts and blood magic to make sure your patient stays alive, even though most of our governments have problems with the old ways."

"I am a healer, a good one." Hermione wouldn't deny that. She'd worked hard for decades to develop her practice. "I'm not much practiced with the 'old ways' as you say."

Queenie just smiled serenely. "Now I don't have to try to get through your occlumency shields to know that's a lie, honey. But don't worry. This is a social call."

At Hermione's eyebrow raise, Queenie continued. "I'm here representin' someone I work with these days. You were a hard one to track down, you know, since you went into the No-Maj world after you fled Russia."

Hermione hummed. "I didn't exactly want to be found. You can imagine it may have been a bit traumatic, seeing my Master fall over dead right in front of me as she begged me to flee."

"I suppose so," Queenie agreed, "nevertheless, we've been looking for you. You made an impression on my boss. He'd like to offer you a job with us. Healing, what you're comfortable and experienced with. Doesn't pay well now but it will later on."

Hermione was certain she was reading the situation right, but she wanted to be sure.

"Later on? And how would my healing services be utilized later on?"

Queenie's smile was a facsimile of a predator just before it swooped in for a kill. Hermione wasn't at all intimidated, but she was weary as the woman responded. "Well we don't exactly expect the rodents not to scratch on their way out, you know?"

Hermione did everything she could to school her features and keep her mind under control. Her occlumency shields hadn't wavered but they might if she lost composure, and this person was dangerous.

Queenie was trying to recruit her to work with Grindelwald, after all.

"Miss Goldstein," Hermione gave her best political you-can-trust-me-I'd-never-lie-to-you face, "I'm not so sure I'm in the right place to accept such an offer from your boss. Not yet, anyways. This war of the No-Maj's is causing environmental destruction of near unheard of levels. All the work I'm doing now is to prevent too much harm to the planet. I can't stop just yet."

Queenie gave a delighted laugh. "Oh honey we'll have plenty of time to fix the planet after the vermin are gone."

Hermione nearly twitched in agitation. "I see your point, but someone still needs to tend to the farms and such. Can't have us doing the menial labor."

There were a few seconds of silence from the other woman as she observed Hermione.

"Interesting. I get nothing off you. You're a talented occlumens."

Hermione laughed and shrugged her shoulders, taking a sip of her tea. "I once had a legilimens for a teacher. Couldn't quite let him hear everything I thought. Got a little tedious having him answer thoughts I hadn't fully formed so I learned the skill. Sorry if it bothers you."

"It does," Queenie looked away towards the clock for a moment then began to stand, "I've rarely met people who can keep me out. But I digress," she pulled her jacket closer and smiled down at where Hermione was still sitting calmly. "It wasn't a demand, anyways. He just wanted to offer. I'll let him know you said it wasn't possible right now. But a word of caution, because I kind of like you; he knows your name isn't Sasha Romanoff, and he knows you're not Lena Dubinski. So in a show of good faith, you should give me your real name, and do your best to stay put so we can find you again. Might need to scoop you up for an emergency here and there, you know?"

Hermione had prepared a story, to give when she inevitably ran into a time where she couldn't exactly hide behind all of her aliases. A time where she'd have to pick a name and stick with it because she'd drawn too much attention from the wizarding world. She was strong enough now that if people suspected she wasn't aging they would have a hard time killing or arresting her for it.

It wasn't illegal to be immortal, as it were.

She'd just hoped she'd avoid the Grindelwald conflict. It was just a few years from over, she'd gotten by this whole time without really gaining his attention only to gain it in the last stretch. Damn her luck.

"Ah," she stood and extended her hand, dropping into her New York accent. This woman had to be a few decades older than Hermione appeared. She was banking on that. "I'm Mia. Mia Gardner. And I think we may have something in common."

Queenie gave a delighted shriek and enveloped Hermione in a hug. "Oh, another American, how wonderful! It's been awhile since I've talked to another Yank. I'll have to come by for tea again soon. What house were you in?"

Hermione almost threw the woman off her with gathered magical energy in her palms and just barely managed to get it under control in time. She pasted a faux smile on her face as the other woman drew back. "Thunderbird."

Queenie withdrew and made a face, but laughed good naturedly. "I'm a Pukwedgie myself. It's good to meet you, Mia Gardner. We'll see eachother again soon."

As Queenie apparated out, Hermione took a deep breath, sat down, and penned a letter.