Howard Eden frowned, opening another of the long, thin boxes. Inside was, ostensibly, another wand. Again, this looked like little more than a stick. A very polished stick, beautiful in its own, natural way, but nothing like the intricately carved standard he was used to.

He pulled the wand from its box and looked back up at the old man, bound to his bed. He figured it more comfortable than a chair, and Gregorovitch was conveniently in bed when Eden had broken in.

"You've got interesting designs," Eden said. He gave the wand a simple movement and a jet of orange, flaming sparks shot from the tip with a loud pop. He dropped the wand and decided to leave it on the floor. "Maybe not a good fit, huh?"

Gregorovitch just started back at him with wide eyes. He had a bushy, unkempt beard that looked like something more borne of laziness than style.

"You do have a voice, don't you?" Eden asked, leaning forward to look the man in the eyes. He nodded, but didn't reply. "That was a hint, my friend, to use your voice."

"What do you want?' Gregorovitch was surprisingly, refreshingly bold in his question. He did a poor job of hiding the fear in his eyes, but still, points for going bold. He supposed it would be a scary thing to wake up tied to your bed, a stranger asking questions.

"I want to know about the Elder Wand, Mr. Gregorovitch."

"I don't have it." The old man shook his head fiercely. "It was stolen...years ago."

Eden pursed his lips. He hadn't heard of an instance of the wand being stolen. It was supposedly only loyal...very loyal...to those who killed the previous owner.

"Well," Eden signed, "that presents a problem."

"I could have told you, if I'd known it's what you wanted…"

"See, I've read up on the subject quite a bit," Eden twirled his wand and Gregorovitch watched it nervously, waiting for the other shoe to drop. "That means I know the basics...basics like the fact that the wand doesn't take to a new owner until unless you've killed the old one. And here you are...alive."

Gregorovitch jumped as Eden poked him with his stubby wand.

"I-" he stammered, "I-I swear, I don't have it. Someone stole it, they stunned me and stole it!"

"Who?" Eden asked forcefully, the stammering responses jumping up and down on his nerves.

"I don't know! I never found out, I don't know!"

Eden scoffed. "I find torture distasteful, but I'm reaching wits end with you."

"No, please," Gregorovitch shouted, "I never found him, it all happened so fast...take the memory, you can have it, please!"

Eden again pursed his lips. Legilimency had never been one of his stronger areas, but he was alright. If the man was offering, not putting up resistance, maybe…

"Legilimens," Eden murmured, concentrating.

It was dark outside and he was walking upstairs, getting ready for bed. It had been a long, but fulfilling day. More and more people were looking to him for wands since he'd let it slip that he was in possession of the Elder Wand. If he could master such a wand, surely he could create such works for them.

He pushed the door to his bedroom open and cried out in surprise. A young man was standing there holding the wand...his wand. Blonde hair, brilliantly blue eyes, and a look of wicked satisfaction on his face as he examined the wand.

Gregorovitch wanted to attack this thief, this brigand, destroy him for daring to touch his wand, but his shout in surprise hadn't gone unnoticed. The boy looked up, pointed the wand, and fired a spell which knocked Gregorovitch back down the stairs.

Eden twisted his face in disgust at the man laying in bed before him.

"You didn't recognize him!?" Eden shouted. "You couldn't recognize Gellert Grindelwald!?" He thumped the bound man on the forehead, standing up in irritation.

To be fair, he looked very young, and he didn't have the moustache yet, but those eyes. How could you not recognize them. At least put two and two together later in life.

Grindelwald had been an idol for Eden ever since he'd learned about the attack in New York. Grendelwald was a man with vision. It only made sense that he would have the most powerful wand in existence.

Only, he wouldn't now, would he? He'd been defeated by Albus Dumbledore...imprisoned and thus wandless. If one didn't have to die to lose the wand, though...interesting.

Eden looked down at the cowering man, still angry. He was weak, irritatingly so, and to not ever recognize someone so influential as Gellert Grindelwald...that was unforgivable.

Without fanfare or ceremony, Eden ended the man's life. He now knew where to look. Dumbledore would be a tough nut to crack, but it just needed planning. He'd make it work. He actively supported those muggle soldiers, after all. It wouldn't be a hard sell to his budding army of dark creatures that Albus Dumbledore wanted to keep them down.

He couldn't wait to get back to the estate...to Bellatrix. It was early in the morning, but she'd probably be awake. She was a bit of an early bird.

It was true what they said, behind every great man was a great woman. It was also true that if you wanted to keep someone, you committed.

He'd purchased a small ring. Not an engagement ring, they hadn't been together quite that long. But, something to show her he was serious.

He felt the ring in his pocket and examined the pathetic body one last time, only just resisting the urge to kick it, before apparating back home.

He felt that familiar hook, the pulling through the air, and then he slammed into something unexpected. He tumbled uncontrollably and crashed into the ground, flat on his back.

"What in the hell," Eden asked aloud, pushing himself up. He was in one of the farming fields near the estate, though he wasn't sure which one.

Logically, he knew of anti-apparition wards. He had never tried to apparate into one, but he imagined this must be what it felt like. But...why would the estate have anti-apparition wards?

"Freeze!" someone shouted from the bushes nearby. Eden heard the unmistakable snap-whiz of a bullet only just missing him, and he reacted instantly, apparating.

For some reason, the first place he thought of was The Howler. Suddenly, he was inside the bar. The patrons were eyeing him with a range of looks, from irritation on the mild end to a murderous rage on the opposite.

"Boss, thank god," Eden heard a familiar voice. Tony Walsh stepped out from an adjacent room, walking quickly over to Eden.

Upon seeing Tony treating this man with respect, the other patrons turned back to their drinks.

"What happened?" Eden asked, eyeing Tony wearily. He knew he wasn't going to like the answers.

"Muggles hit the estate, got just about everyone that was staying there. Gibbon escaped. He said they tried to get away in a car because they couldn't apparate. He had Bellatrix with him, but…"

He didn't finish the thought. He didn't need to...Eden knew what it meant.

As the door opened, Brad felt his intestines squirming in anticipation.

Fleur, unaware of his plight, called out, "Maman, Papa!"

It was very early in the morning. Brad bristled at the thought of waking them early, let alone having to make his apologies while they were disgruntled at the morning disruption.

Instead of this, Brad was greeted by the scent of garlic and pepper. The sizzling of eggs on a pan.

Apolline poked her head around the corner, from the kitchen. "Bonjour ma belle," Apolline greeted Fleur with a contented smile. That faltered on sight of Brad.

His heart froze as her eyes widened, her face otherwise unreadable. She stepped out of the kitchen, crossing the living room rapidly and with ease. His pulse thumped quicker in his neck with each approaching step.

And she swept him into a tight hug. She held him firmly. "Je suis si contente de te revoir," she murmured, squeezing him. There was nothing aggressive about it. It was a hug that left him feeling like he was long lost family, not some outsider that had neglected their daughter. It was hard for him to let go of that thought…

"Brad, my boy!" Henri's deep voice rumbled. He cascaded down the last few steps of the cottage stairs, meeting Brad with a broad smile, and not the slightest hint of judgement. "It's good to see you."

"The eggs!" Apolline exclaimed, rushing to the kitchen as a faint smell of burning wafted his way. Fleur positively danced behind, following her mother into the kitchen. Henri stood there, a hand on Brad's shoulder.

Brad looked at the man, who was giving him an appraising look. He smiled again after a very short moment. "Came to your senses, did you?" he asked.

"Yeah," Brad admitted. He wished he'd listened to Henri sooner. "Finally."

"You got there in the end…" Henri chewed the inside of his lip for a long moment. "I can't fault you for a mistake I myself made," he said.

Fleur chose that moment to glide into the dining room, carrying a stack of plates and a handful of other dishes. She looked so...content...happy even. He kicked himself mentally before looking back up to Henri, who watched as his daughter retreated back to the kitchen.

"I do expect that you learn from them, though, son. Grow from them."

"I know, sir," he said. "I get it now." He'd been the one pushing everyone away. He wouldn't let himself make that mistake again.

Henri smiled at him, his rough hand finding Brad's cheek. He stood like that for a moment, and Brad savored every second of it.

"Votre retour est le bienvenu, fils," Henri said.

Brad didn't understand a word, but his heart swelled, regardless, from the cadence of it.

"And, I'm not sir."

Brad grinned and nodded at the familiar words.

"Come, come," Apolline insisted. Eggs sizzled loudly from the pan as she dished them onto plates. Fleur filled cups with coffee and set the pot in the middle of the table.

Brad had to take several deep breaths, still standing at the door as Henri crossed to the head of the table. When he was certain he was stable, he started over to join them.

Mike rubbed his hand back and forth against the soft sheet, laying on his side and staring at the neatly made bed beside him. Hermione had been discharged by a very stern Madam Pomfrey, who insisted that she was completely fine to leave and that Mike would need his rest.

He'd never seen Hermione scream like that at anyone, let alone a Professor. It hadn't gotten her anywhere, but he had to give her credit, it had been an impressive display. She had not wanted to leave.

A big part of him didn't want her to leave. He missed her so much while he'd been held captive, and now she was here, and he still couldn't see her.

Another part of him, a part he kept trying to discard as bullshit, was glad she was gone. It had nothing to do with his desire to be around her. Rather, it was a matter of needing time to process things. He'd had enough of his own thoughts to last him a lifetime, so he'd thought.

But now that he was out of danger, now that he could move and didn't expect each and every day to be his last...he needed to decompress. Fuck.

The infirmary door creaked open behind him and he glanced back, part of him hoping to see Hermione. Instead, he saw Colonel Sumner, looking grim. He sat up immediately. He'd known this part was coming for a while.

"Sergeant Matthews," Sumner greeted him. The Colonel sat down on Hermione's bed, wrinkling the perfectly made sheet and blankets. "It's good to see you."

Mike stared into the Colonel's eyes and believed him. There was a haunted look there that told Mike his return was among the happier endings the Colonel had experienced.

"We've got a lot to go over," Sumner said. His eyes were hard, and his swallow harder. "Before I get to that point, I want you to know...ordering your search to be called off was one of the hardest things I've done. I could feel it, same as Miss Granger, that you were out there."

"Colonel," Mike started, but he hadn't known where the sentiment would go. During all of his training, it had been instilled...never leave a man behind. It made putting your ass on the line a lot easier, but when Mike thought about it, what were they supposed to do? "With all due respect, there wasn't any way you were going to find me short of an accident...kinda like you did, actually."

There weren't tracks to follow. Mike didn't have control of his body, but he had full control of his mind. He saw how careful they were to cover their tracks.

"Nevertheless," Sumner replied, not at all sounding convinced. "Well, I'm glad you're back."

Sumner patted his shoulder from across the couch before squaring his own. "Son, I'm sure you know we've got the mother-of-all debriefs in your future."

Mike nodded. He was actually looking forward to offloading some of the intelligence he thought would be important. Eden especially.

"JSOC and the Ministry are breathing down my neck. They want info yesterday…" Sumner gave Mike a hard look. "Far as I'm concerned, you're unconscious until you're ready to talk, son. We need intel, but if you need a couple days to rest, just say the word."

Mike looked and the Colonel was staring back with hard eyes. All he had to do was say he wasn't ready, and the Colonel was prepared to stave off both the Ministry and JSOC command...just to keep him comfortable for a bit longer.

"Thanks, Colonel," Mike said, glad to be back in good hands, "but I'm ready. We should get started."

And he did. He struggled at first to figure out how to put things. About his initial capture, about where Crouch Jr. had taken him. Once he'd started, though, things just flooded out of him. Things he hated...things he was ashamed of. Eden...Bellatrix...all of it.

"Mike," Sumner said when he'd finished, after telling him about killing Bellatrix and passing out next to Hermione. It surprised him, being addressed by his first name. Sumner surprised him further by scooting off the bed and crouching next to Mike, grabbing his shoulder. "You're a hell of a soldier. The fact that you went through all that and are here talking to me...I'm proud to have you around."

He stood up, leaving Mike stunned...and drained. It had been exhausting reliving all of it, and yet he felt lighter because of it.

Sumner started for the door.

"Sir," Mike asked, sitting up. Sumner turned to face him. "When can I see the team?" he asked. He didn't like the look on Sumner's face.

"Right," was all he said for a moment. Mike saw wheels turning in the Colonel's head for a moment before he crossed and sat on the corner of Mike's bed. "The team can come in whenever Madam Pomfrey says so. That said-"

The Colonel chewed on his lip for a moment and Mike knew something was wrong.

"Sergeant Steele was killed in action. Gordon and Grimes are fine, and there is a new member to the team, Sergeant Sar-." Blood rushing through Mike's head covered the rest of the Colonel's words.

Jason...dead? Mike couldn't believe it. Jason, the hulk, the brute...that bastard could probably survive being punched in the head by a troll...

Colonel Sumner patted Mike's knee, drawing his attention back to the present. "I'm sorry, son. Get some rest."

That said, he left. Mike watched him go, watched the doors shut...stared at the closed doors, as though there was some hope that Jason might walk through at any moment, just as long as he kept an eye out.

"-a lot, dear."

Mike looked over, realizing he'd been ignoring someone. Madam Pomfrey stood there beside his bed, a cup of water in her hand. She'd been saying something.

"Ma'am?" Mike asked. He didn't want to play it off like he was listening, only to realize he'd missed some important aspect of his recovery. She didn't look even slightly irritated, just...motherly.

"I said I've been noticing that you rub the blankets a lot."

Mike glanced down at his hand, which he realized he was running through a fold in the blanket.

"Uh, yeah," Mike agreed. "That I do."

She held her hand out to him, still holding the water with her other. "Here, this might help."

She dropped something heavy into his hand. A gold coin. He flipped it through his fingers, staring at it as it glittered in the light.

"Something to keep you busy, anyway," she said. She set the cup beside his bed and walked away to her office, leaving him to his thoughts once again.

Hermione flipped to the next page of The Psychological Effects of Being a Prisoner of War, her mind picking out words like depression and morbidity, but she was having trouble concentrating. She saw the words, the paragraphs, a chart reflecting differences in psychological condition over several years, and she felt none of it sticking.

She glanced back up at the two guards...at the door between them. For the millionth time, it didn't budge. The soldiers had stopped returning her looks, recognizing that it wasn't them she was interested in.

Mike was due to be released today. She'd been told by Colonel Sumner, after a long week of pestering him for any news, that Mike would be out of the hospital wing...today. A glance at the nearest window told her that it would be dark soon.

She had managed to hold herself at bay until lunch had finished, by which point, certain that he would be out any minute, she'd gone and sat outside of the medical ward.

The shuffling of footsteps on the other side of the heavy door caught her attention. When she glanced up from her lap, both guards were standing at a firmer attention. She quickly stowed the book in her bag. As the door swung open, she slung the bag over her shoulder and stood up.

There he was, being escorted out by a kindly looking Madam Pomfrey. He was cleanly shaven, wearing multicam pants and a tan undershirt, a black eyepatch over the eye he'd lost. It was cute, but not as cute as the wide grin he adopted when he caught sight of her.

Unable to help herself, she ran across the room to him and threw her arms around his neck. He pulled her tight and she felt herself melt against him, feeling so right. Distantly, she heard Madam Pomfrey scoff. She ignored it, distracted as his lips electrically found hers.

They only broke the embrace when the door shut loudly. His grip against the small of her back slackened and she felt herself slide down, just a bit. She looked up into his eye and saw it twinkling as he smiled back at her.

"Damn, it's good to see you," he murmured into her hair as she pressed herself against his chest, not quite ready to let go. He gave her a squeeze and she relented, settling herself with holding his hand.

Or, she tried to, anyhow. She found he was holding something. She looked down and he opened his hand. A gold galleon rolled into his palm.

"Madam Pomfrey gave it to me," he explained at her curious glance. "I sorta like having something to fiddle with."

He slid the coin into this pocket, intertwining his fingers with hers. She thought she could imagine why. Months without control of her body...she'd probably keep proving to herself that she could, too.

"I was thinking," Hermione started, already noticing how Mike continued to absently rub her hand with his thumb, "we could walk around the lake?"

Mike glanced at the window. The sun had nestled behind the horizon now, an orange hue all that lit the sky. A trip around the lake would take them until after dark, which was against the rules. He watched her for a moment, trying to read her face, before shrugging.

"Sure," he said finally.

"You're feeling up to it?" she asked.

"Definitely."

She let go of his hand, pressing herself against his side as they started walking, not content with any degree of distance between them. He was solid, confident in his stride.

It wasn't long before they reached the steps to Entrance Hall. Both of them did their best to ignore the muddy grooves dug into the grass at the base of the steps, neither in the mood to dwell.

Instead, Mike looked up at the rapidly darkening sky. Some of the brighter stars were already visible, and she knew the view would be better as they got further from the castle...to the other side of the lake.

She pushed thoughts of their destination from her head even as she felt her pulse quicken. Mike broke the comfortable silence as they reached the shore of the lake, faint moonlight shimmering atop the ripples.

"Quite a view," he said. He wasn't wrong, it was very pretty. Just, not quite where she wanted to end up.

She looked up at him and her cheeks went hot as she realized he'd been looking at her when he'd spoken. She couldn't help the wide grin even as she pushed him playfully for the cheesy line.

"What?" he asked innocently. She could hear the smile in his voice.

She pulled him along the direction she'd pushed him, forcing them along further. A quick glance back at the castle was the only betrayal of his curiosity. It wasn't like her to be caught outside after curfew, after all. He didn't speak on it, though, knowing that she'd bring it up when she was ready.

"How are you feeling," Hermione asked again. Now that they'd walked to the lake and started around it, she wanted to make sure nothing had changed.

"Like a king," he said, giving her a squeeze. She smiled wistfully, memories of him holding her flooding into her mind. He rested his hand on the small of her back as they walked along the shore of the lake.

"I keep waking up confused," Mike said, after another stretch of comfortable silence. She looked at him. It was dark enough that she had to rely on the moonlight to see his features, and they looked furrowed. "I keep thinking this has to be a dream, you know? After so long there...it seems unreal."

"I kept looking for you," Hermione admitted, resting her head against the side of his chest as they continued around the perimeter of the lake. She hadn't admitted it to anyone. "Every time I walked in a room, whenever I saw one of the guys, I couldn't help checking for you."

She stopped, and he stopped with her. He pulled her into a tight embrace that she needed, and she pulled him tight as well. "I knew you were out there," she said into his chest as he held her.

"I love you, Hermione." He whispered it into her hair, and the words sent shivers down her spine. Affirmed everything she wanted.

"I love you, too."

They broke apart after a time and continued around the lake. She hadn't realized how close they were to the other side until they'd reached it. It was crazy how time just escaped while she was with him.

It was dark outside, but she knew it was the spot. The grass was flat here, the land the darkest, the castle small and distant, on the opposite end of the lake.

"Huh," Mike grunted, a note of surprise in his voice. He was looking at a blanket that she'd laid out across the grass earlier, held there by four sizable rocks. There were pillows laid out on the blanket, along with a picnic basket.

"I wasn't sure if you'd be hungry," she said, walking over to the blanket. Her heart was hammering in her chest, trying to beat its way free. She focused her attention on smoothing a little wrinkle at the edge of the blanket.

Mike sat beside her, looking at the basket. It was an assortment of foods she thought would keep well. She'd felt terrible, going down the secret path to the kitchen and asking the elves for extra food. They'd been so happy to help, and so unwilling to accept any payment in return. She'd stopped just short of offending them, trying to find something to give them in return.

Mike fell back onto one of the pillows, looking up at the stars. Hermione glanced up and had to admit, it was beautiful. Thousands of specks of light were scattered across the sky. Wind rustled the leaves of trees in the nearby forest, but even the proximity of the Forbidden Forest didn't feel all that dangerous. Not with Mike.

Hermione looked back down at him as he lay there, his hands behind his head, staring up at the sky. One eye covered with a patch, his nose crooked...even scarred as he was, he still looked like him. Kind, confident, handsome.

She took a deep breath, not letting thoughts get the better of her, and slipped her shirt off. She followed up by removing her bra, relying on momentum to keep herself going. The movement caught Mike's attention, and she smiled as his jaw dropped at the sight of her.

The look in his eye...bewilderment, desire, longing...it all filled her heart until she thought it might burst. Her nerves, her doubts, her self-consciousness...all of it evaporated as he looked from her chest to her eyes, and she saw nothing but love...and a little confusion.

"Hermione?" he asked, propping himself up on one elbow to face her. She felt the cool breeze across her chest and it sent a thrill through her. She unfastened her jeans and smiled as Mike's mouth popped open again.

"I thought I'd missed my chance," Hermione heard herself say. She felt strangely disembodied, and at the same time, she felt more in control of her life then she'd ever felt. She reached over, and instead of handling her own jeans, she unbuttoned Mike. Curiously...apprehensively. She hadn't, after all, received an explicit agreement from him.

That evaporated quickly. Mike shrugged his own shirt off in one fluid motion and pulled her close, kissing her deeply. She melted against his bare chest, the feeling of her skin against his sent her reeling. Before she knew it, they were both entirely naked. There was an undeniable exhilaration at being so openly exposed, and so entirely wanted.

"Are you sure?" he asked as he braced himself just over the top of her, during a lull in their passionate kissing. The minute distance between them was infuriating.

She replied by hooking her feet against his hips and pulling him closer. "Yes," she breathed, impatient and nervous all at once.

There was discomfort, there was intoxicating pleasure...time escaped her as she lost herself to the rhythm until finally, and all too soon, she found herself lying against him, the both of them still nude and staring up at thousands of stars sparkling in the sky. She felt right home. She couldn't possibly imagine a place she would rather be, nor a person she would rather be with. She felt full, and fulfilled...loved, and in love.