The shrill clanging of the alarm clock pierced Dominique's ears a mere four hours later. Her throbbing skull was proof enough that the previous night had been all too real. Eyeing the clock as if it was her arch nemesis, she groaned loudly and rolled over. The job had kept her out unmercifully late and now it was forcing her out of bed unmercifully early.

"Journalism is so not worth it," she grumbled, dragging herself out of bed and into the shower.

Her morning routine usually took about fifteen minutes, but this morning it seemed to inch by and every task took three times its normal length. Dom finally made it to her desk, only a half hour late, and found a cup of coffee waiting for her. A tiny scrap of paper beside it read, 'Drink up'. It was Lysander's tight, all together too neat scrawl.

Repressing a smile, she gulped down half the coffee in one swig, hoping it would ease the ache in her head. Tea was the British thing, but it did absolutely nothing for hangovers. Lysander knew what he was doing.

Lysander. Just thinking about him for a second turned Dom's stomach into a tangle of knots. Her aching head made it quite clear that the night before had indeed happened, and unfortunately she hadn't been drunk enough to forget it. She had told her colleague way too much about her personal life…no, that wasn't entirely true. He had guessed most of it on his own.

Slitting open the first letter on the rapidly growing stack beside her, she pursed her lips. Had he really said she was pretty? He got her home safely, and she could've sworn he was flirting with her. What did any of that mean? For the millionth time, she cursed herself for being born less like Victoire and more like, well, herself.

Her sister would've known exactly what all of the signs last night meant, whereas she was hopeless. Dom's experience with boys was pretty much confined to pining after Teddy and a drawn out, mostly unpleasant couple of years dating the Slytherin Quidditch captain just to cause a stir. She didn't exactly have the best luck in the guy department.

These hopeless thoughts were cut short a moment later when Bertha approached the desk. "That stack gets bigger every day," the witch grumbled.

"I haven't had much time to get to these," Dominique admitted, not really feeling all that guilty about it.

Bertha merely grunted. "You might be working with the big shots now, but if we stop running your column, we'll have half the wizarding world pounding at our door."

Dom paused. Would it really have that much of an effect if she ceased writing her daily advice? "Maybe half the teenage population of witches," she allowed.

"Even so," rejoined Bertha with a shrug. "I suggest you make time to craft a few solid columns this week. If your big story fails, you'll need this to fall back on."

If my big story fails, I'll be kicked out of here so fast I won't have time to fall back on anything, Dom thought darkly as Bertha retreated to her own cubicle.

As 11 o'clock rolled around, Dominique hurried to Lysander's office for their daily meeting. Over the past few weeks of working with him, her original apprehension had begun to fade away, replaced by a sense of ease around him. The cutting, sharp Lysander of their Hogwarts days was more often than not replaced by a good-humored, confident, capable young man. The more they worked together, the more he trusted her, and the more they had fallen into a camaraderie she hadn't expected.

Now it felt like all of that was gone. It was clear last night that the two of them were friends, and Dom was both shocked and happy to realize that much was true. But last night had also been something different, something she couldn't put her finger on. And that something different was bringing back a familiar, nervous feeling at the thought of setting foot in his small office.

"Well don't stand there lurking around all day," came a chuckle from behind her as she eyed the chestnut door.

Dom turned to find Lysander watching her, cup of tea in his hand. "I, uh…" So articulate, she berated herself.

Ignoring her stammering, he prodded the door open and ushered her in ahead of himself. "Just grabbing a cup of tea. That's what we civilized Brits drink in the morning." He flashed her a wink.

"Oh, er, yeah. Thanks for the coffee," she replied, setting down her notes and sinking into her usual chair.

"My pleasure. Figured you'd need that. Completely barbaric though." He set down his cup and began shuffling through papers.

She couldn't resist a smile at that. "You're becoming as bad as Cuffe with this mess." She gestured to the stacks of papers littering his desk.

Lysander gave her a thoughtful look. "Well, that's why I have you, isn't it?"

She didn't reply, mind reverberating with his words. 'Why I have you'…now what could he mean by that? No, nothing. He means nothing by it. He's making small talk. Settle down.

He gave her a quizzical look, confused by the twisted look she likely had on her face. "Truth is, Dominique, we need to get down to business here."

Dom once again had an inexplicable urge to ask him to stop calling her by her full name. But again, she suppressed it. He could call he whatever he liked. "Business?" she inquired, voice sounding more like a squeak than she would have hoped.

"We've got five days to turn up something worthy of a follow-up story," Lysander clarified, suddenly all business, tea forgotten. "The Leaky Cauldron was fairly useless, said Bomsnox came in almost every night for a few years and then stopped showing up a month ago."

Dom's head lifted a bit, jumbled thoughts eradicated by a possible new lead. "That shows something's definitely up!"

"Yes and no," he hedged. "So he stopped going for a pint every night. Doesn't make him a criminal."

She sank back against the chair, biting her lip thoughtfully. "Everything we've found so far is pointing to something, I just know it."

Lysander let out a frustrated growl, shoving his chair back from the desk and pushing himself to his feet. "That's completely useless if we don't know what it's pointing at!" The volume of his voice was rising at an alarming clip. "If I lose my job, my family-" He cut himself off sharply, rubbing at the back of his neck.

She thought fast, trying to connect the dots, do something to get him back on track. "Quidditch tickets…what about all the Quidditch tickets he bought, and how he was at a game after he disappeared?"

He gazed out the window through a slit in the blinds. "So what."

She got to her feet too, pacing back and forth a little the way he always did. "It can't be a coincidence that he spends so much money on Quidditch and then that's the one place he's seen when he's supposedly ill."

Lysander stepped away from the window and began methodically rolling up the sleeves of his starched shirt. When he didn't respond for a moment, just kept folding, Dominique knew he was lost in thought. "Maybe you have something. But we need solid proof."

Dom played idly with the buttons at the bottom of her blouse, waiting for his next stroke of inspiration. That brilliant idea always came.

A moment later, hazel eyes flicked up to meet her gaze. "I've got it."

There it is, right on cue. "Yeah?" she asked, eager to see what he'd come up with.

"You and I are breaking and entering."

A huge, imposing stone mansion glared angrily out at them as they Apparated onto the wide street in the countryside. A pitch black night laid on top of them, pierced only by the flickering glow of a few streetlamps.

Dominique hung back, taking her surroundings in cautiously.

"This is no time for second thoughts," Lysander called quietly from up ahead.

But her feet remained planted. Maybe investigative journalism isn't my calling after all, she thought morbidly, feeling chills up her spine at the creepy house before them. She expected Lysander to go on without her, but instead he doubled back and faced her, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What's going on?" he inquired.

He never walks backward. I always have to catch up with him. "Not what I expected you to say," she rejoined, looking away.

"And what did you expect? Me to yell at you, tell you to hurry up? Wouldn't be the first time, right?"

Dom still wasn't looking at him.

"I'm asking you to break into the home of a top Ministry of Magic official. I realize that's not an easy request. We could get in serious trouble for what we're about to do." There was no concealed laughter in his tone.

"You're not doing a very good job convincing me," she told him, finally meeting his eye.

He didn't crack a smile, but his face didn't look angry either. "I'm not trying to convince you. If you want to succeed at this kind of reporting, you've got to want it really badly. And Dominique, I know you do." Lysander turned away and continued walking towards the massive house.

He was right. He somehow always seemed to be right when it came to her. It was as if all of those years of fighting with her, always teasing and bullying at Hogwarts had been another person. This new Lysander knew her like the back of his hand. And she found that wasn't as scary as she might've thought it would be. "I'm coming," she whispered, hurrying to catch up with him.

Lysander reached the wrought iron gate before her, pausing to inspect its careful detail. The gate stood way over their heads, and extended on either side into huge stone pillars, both of which stretched out into cement walls.

"Bomsnox isn't messing around, is he?" Lysander muttered under his breath. "We'll have to climb."

"Why can't we just Apparate in there?" she inquired.

"And risk letting everyone inside know we're here? I don't think so."

She sighed resignedly. It was a good thing she'd dressed for exploration. She was clad in jeans, a black sweatshirt and a pair of trainers, all of which were much more conducive to breaking and entering than her usual work ensemble.

Lysander traced along the cement wall until he found a section that was slightly more rundown, its surface cracked and crumbling. "Here." He tested it briefly, feeling for a foothold, and gestured to her. "You go up first, I'll catch you if you fall."

For an instant, Dom could've sworn there was a teasing glimmer in his eyes, a half smile on his face. But then it was gone. "You'd better," she grumbled, trying to get her foot into the cracks in the wall. "I climbed into an air vent already for this story, a wall is just the next big thing."

She heard his throaty chuckle resonate from below her. Dom gripped at the top of the wall and, exerting what little arm strength she had, pulled herself over. She dropped to her feet on the other side and was quickly joined by Lysander. "That was fast," she remarked.

He shrugged. "Practice." Not waiting for her eye roll, he strode across the grass, staying behind trees as much as he could. When they had gotten about ten feet from the house, he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Not through the front door?" Dom inquired.

Lysander shook his head. "Don't think so. We'll go around and look for the service entrance."

They circled back around the house and found a small side door nestled in one corner. "Alohomora," Lysander whispered, pointing his wand at the handle. He tried the knob. Nothing. He muttered the spell again and again, but to no avail.

"Damn this guy's good," Dom cursed.

"And he's got to be hiding something. Only a paranoid criminal would make the service door that foolproof." He scanned the perimeter.

"This is the only other door," Dom noted, as if the searching was in vain.

Lysander pushed his hand through his coffee-colored locks which were as messy as Dominique had ever seen them. "I know that. We'll try a window."

She followed along behind him as he tried to unlock all of the windows on the ground floor, creeping slowly around the full area of the house. None of them budged. As they returned to their original spot by the service entrance, Lysander began scanning the second floor.

Seconds later, he located a tiny window in the right hand corner of the back wall. "Come on." Striding towards it, he stowed his wand in a pocket and knelt down, one knee pressing into the firm earth.

"What're you doing?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Giving you a boost. You've got to try that upstairs window." His gaze was calm, unperturbed as she stared at him like he was crazy.

Dom shook her head. "No way. I'm going to die!"

Lysander stared right back. "No, you won't. Let's go." He waited, but she didn't budge. "Your other option is to give me a boost." A wicked grin crossed his face.

"Fine." Slowly, feeling like she was moving through molasses, she settled her foot into his waiting hands. "Don't drop me," she hissed.

"I wouldn't dare." Lysander gripped her calf in his strong hands, taking hold of her other foot and launching her up towards the window. It took all of her self control not to squeal as she fell towards the building and latched onto the tiny ledge by the window.

Her ankles were still grasped tightly in Lysander's hands, but she teetered precariously, reaching slowly for her wand as she tried not to look down. "Alohomora," she breathed. Click. "Thank Merlin," Dom gasped.

Author's Note: Really sorry for the cliffhanger! This chapter was getting kind of unwieldy and long so I split it up into two parts. Much more excitement to come, I promise. Leave a review if you can, I appreciate the feedback SO much :) And thanks to everyone who has left reviews so far!