By the time 11am had rolled around, Hermione had made up her mind to volunteer for the mission. She was anxious about the idea of going off the grid for so long, of leaving behind the magical world and her ability to connect with her friends in both New York and London – especially since there was no given end to this mission. "The Auror selected for this mission should be prepared that it may last well over a year," continued to ring through her mind. However, Hermione knew that this mission was clearly important and that no one else on the team was quite as well suited to it, according to the sparse information included in the brief – and no one had ever said that Hermione wasn't one to step up to the beater's bat when needed (metaphorically speaking, of course). And so, 11am found Hermione outside the door to Hops' office, knocking firmly.

"Come in," Hops called, and Hermione took one final deep breath before opening the door.

"Hey Hops, I'm here to volunteer." Hermione was proud that her voice didn't waver once.

H – H – H

Hermione's conversation with Hops had been brief. It turned out that Hops himself had little more information than what was presented in the mission brief she'd already received. He provided her with a small file and a safehouse key, outlining that he was to be her handler for the mission (and her only connection to the magical world), that she'd start at SHIELD on Wednesday morning, and that when she arrived at the address in the file she was to meet immediately with SHIELD's Director, one Nick Fury. He had ended their conversation by dismissing her from the MID office for the rest of the day and the next so that she could get her affairs in order for the mission. As she had stood to leave, Hops had thanked her in a quiet tone for signing up before ending his unusually solemn moment with a clap on the back and a boisterous exclamation that "there's no one better, kid!"

Arriving back home, Hermione's first stop was her kitchen. With a reflexive wave of her wand, Hermione set the kettle to boil and dropped the thin file Hops had given her on the island. As she surveyed her kitchen, its mishmash mix of Muggle and magical brought her the warm and fuzzies. She wasn't looking forward to leaving it behind for likely upwards of a year.

When the kettle boiled, she made up a quick cuppa and opened the slim file. The first piece of parchment in the file was a copy of the mission brief she'd already read, so she quickly flipped past it. She was surprised to note that the rest of the file was not on the heavy parchment favoured in the wizarding world but was instead simple Muggle printer paper filled with images and typed text.

It seemed as though the rest of the file had come directly from SHIELD. Hermione had never received a file like this before a mission. Usually, she received a folder from MID that outlined the mission and then would receive a follow up folder when she arrived at the Muggle agency that briefed her from their perspective. It seemed the length of this mission wasn't the only thing unique about it – it seemed as though SHIELD was running the show this time, not MACUSA. Odd.

Unfortunately for Hermione, the pages SHIELD had included were of little help to her in figuring out any further details about her mission. The pages outlined the key events of the Battle of New York – nothing new to Hermione, or in fact, any New Yorker – and then provided a photograph of her primary contact at SHIELD, Director Fury, an address for the SHIELD offices she'd be working out of, and information about the safe house she'd be living in for the duration of the mission.

The lack of information continued to be frustrating as she spent the rest of day packing.

In her wardrobe she found herself stumped over what to bring and what to leave behind – did she need her battle robes? Her dragonhide gloves and boots? How much office wear did she need? Was it more of a lab coats or blazers kind of workplace? Packing her Muggle streetwear was easy, every mission needed normal clothing – casual clothing, athletic wear, date-night and clubbing clothing, cocktail attire, maybe even a formal gown or two – but as she had little clue about what exactly she would be doing for SHIELD it was hard to figure out what else to bring or leave behind.

Her bathroom was a little easier to pack, as she spent time carefully disguising her more magical products as ordinary Muggle ones and packing them carefully in boxes padded with bubble wrap and cushioning charms to prevent breakage in travel.

She left her kitchen mostly alone, grabbing just a few sentimental items like her favourite mug (a gift from Harry many years ago) and the large box of Twinning's tea that she couldn't live without. She also packed her electric kettle, she was glad she had gone the Muggle route when purchasing a kettle so that she could bring it on missions. (Hermione would never forget her first interoffice mission where she'd arrived at the Muggle safehouse and discovered there was no kettle – it turned out that many Americans simply boiled their water for tea in the microwave, an affront to her British sensibilities.)

It was her small living room where Hermione spent the bulk of the day, seated on the floor surrounded by boxes and books. Hermione's living room was always overflowing with books, a mixture of Muggle and magical. Her shelves stored worn copies of Shakespeare and Atwood mixed in amongst her old school textbooks and books on advanced warding, The Lord of the Rings trilogy next to books on string theory and cursed objects. Packing her books took time and care – sorting through them to identify which might be useful to her vague mission and then carefully charming them to appear mundane to Muggle eyes. Given the sheer range of skills the mission had called for, Hermione felt as though she couldn't be too careful in selecting books so by the time she was done packing them there were more in boxes than there were left on the shelves.

At 5:50pm precisely, her phone vibrated with a short text, "Lunch?"

Hermione couldn't help but smile - she only had one friend back in England who'd been as excited about the spells to enable magical folks to use Muggle tech as she had been. Since she'd left England, she and Harry had maintained a standing lunch date… or rather, she came to visit him during his lunchtime every Monday. At first it had been easy when she'd stayed in Europe and their time zones had been the same or near enough. As she'd traveled further, the timing had grown trickier though – when she'd been in Seoul, it amounted to a late dinner for her. However, since she'd landed in New York several years ago, it had synced up nicely between his lunch hour and her dinner. Of course, she visited often on the weekends to see the whole ever-expanding Weasley brood and her other childhood friends, but her 'lunches' with Harry were nearly sacred and never missed. (Except for when she had interoffice missions… or that one time back in uni that she'd lost track of time while studying and missed her Portkey, which Harry had never let her live down.)

"Of course – see you in ten. xx" she replied.

Surveying her half-empty home full of boxes, Hermione gave herself a moment to feel the pang of loss at leaving for such a long mission. As a last minute thought, she gathered several of her favourite photos, making sure there was nothing magical in them before casting a stasis charm on them to stop them from moving. She carefully added them into a box, wrapped with bubble wrap and surrounded with cushioning charms. An old photo from fourth year of her, Harry and Ron in Hogsmeade, a photo of her beloved and long-gone familiar Crookshanks, recent photos of Harry with Ginny and their kids, Ron blowing out the candles with his daughter's help at his last birthday party.

At 6pm on the dot, Hermione was whisked away by her portkey, appearing in a heavily warded lane near the Ministry. As she caught her balance, Harry turned round the corner. After a quick but tight hug and a kiss on the cheek, the two exited the lane and headed north to the small Muggle pub that they had become regulars at, chatting about all things new in the Potter household (her goddaughter, Lily, had recently learned the phrase 'uh-oh!' and couldn't stop saying it, much to her older siblings' amusement).

The pub was quintessentially British, and never failed to make Hermione miss her homeland. As Hermione found a quiet table in the back corner for them, Harry approached the bar putting in their usual orders and picking up a couple pints. Hermione wistfully watched from her seat, hyper aware that this would be one of their last 'lunches' for a while to come. Turning to head to the table, Harry caught the look before she could mask it. Crap. So much for a nice lunch before breaking the news.

"Why the long face?" he asked with a small frown as he set down their glasses.

"Work," she replied simply. But Harry knew her too well and simply raised an eyebrow as he sat, waiting for her to elaborate. "I'm starting a new mission…"

H – H – H

Hermione groaned as she woke with the sunlight in her eyes, her head throbbing and a crick in her neck.

Harry had been suitably crushed that he would not be seeing his dear friend of sixteen years for an indeterminate but lengthy period. Instead of heading back to work, he'd begged off (being The Harry Potter had some perks) and stayed with her, getting completely pissed in the small Muggle pub, staying until well past 2am Hermione's time. Of course, she'd missed her Portkey back to Brooklyn and had wound up crashing in Harry and Ginny's guest bed at Grimmauld so she could sleep it off before heading home.

The fact that the sun was out did not bode well. She'd slept through the night. Fuck. Hermione fumbled blindly trying to find her wand, nearly sending it flying off the bedside table when she did find it. Wand in hand, she cast a quick Tempus. 7:30am. Double fuck. It was 1:30pm back home, and her last day before the start of the mission. She was meant to be moving into the safe house right now.

Stumbling from the bed, she quickly stretched, looking down at herself. Well, sleeping in her clothes solved the problem of finding something to wear. Exiting the guest room, Hermione quickly headed into the bathroom and did her business – her bladder felt fit to burst. How much had she drunk last night? Washing her hands, Hermione gazed into the mirror.

She looked terrible. Evidently, she'd forgotten to take her makeup off before sleeping and her mild sticking spells had worn off – mascara remnants flecked the skin under her eyes. Her hair was a disaster, tangled into knots that Hermione could find neither the beginning nor end of. A gentle cleansing charm on her face and teeth and a hair elastic transfigured from a piece of lint in her pocket solved the problems… enough for the moment, that is.

Leaving the bathroom, Hermione made her way downstairs, hoping to find a pain reliever before encountering the kids – her headache could not withstand their noise. Unfortunately, it seems the kids had woken up before her. Mercifully however, it seemed that they had also woken up their parents, who quickly handed her a pain potion and a cup of tea to wash it down with.

Hermione leaned against the kitchen wall, quietly observing the chaos of the Potter household while she waited for the potion to kick in. James and Albus, the two eldest children, seemed to be fighting over a plush dragon toy. Ginny tried to deescalate the boys' argument while Harry got Lily situated in her highchair with banana slices to eat. It was such a lovely, domestic scene that Hermione almost felt like an intruder.

Once Lily was happily munching away, Harry sidled up to Hermione. "Hangin' in there?" he asked.

"Barely." She looked up to the ceiling before looking back at Harry – an anxious habit she'd developed during the war. "Thanks for the potion." The two stood for a moment in silence, letting the children's voices fill the room.

"I'm…" Hermione began, before cutting herself off. Harry merely waited for her to continue. "I'll miss you, you know?" It hadn't been what she truly meant to say.

Harry seemed to know that, replying simply with a soft, "I'll miss you too," before lapsing back into silence. When it seemed after a few moments as though she wasn't going to say anything more, he added, running his hands through his hair "I pulled some stings for you, I've got a Portkey to take you home in ten. You're supposed to move to the safe house today, yeah?"

"Yeah."

Hermione enjoyed her last ten minutes with Harry, quietly watching the boys who Ginny had coaxed into sharing the toy and Lily who seemed to have managed to get more banana on her face than in her mouth. When her time was up, she rinsed her mug, hugged all three children and their parents before heading back to her flat in Brooklyn.