Colonel Sumner sat quietly, staring at the wood grains of the floor, awaiting his time to be called before the Senate Committee on Special Operations. They'd recently been read in on the Ansible program and it hadn't gone over well, though not for the reasons he'd worried about.
The crisis in London had, thankfully, been contained. Nearly a hundred civilians killed, twice that killed and wounded within the British military and police forces. TFA itself had lost nearly fifty soldiers in the fighting, including those in the fight at Hogwarts.
French support had been critical. While their Ansible assets had been helpful in securing the city, their full support in mopping up afterward had been integral. Nearly every Auror and Obliviator from England, France, and the United States had swarmed the city, wiping and altering memories for several days.
It would be remembered as a devastating terrorist attack, the first of such scale to use hallucinogenic biological agents, along with an EMP. The latter had been set off by his teams in order to fry any digital evidence that might remain of the supernatural attack.
"Colonel Sumner," a snotty looking aide called softly, only his head sticking out of the doorway, "we're ready for you."
Sumner stepped into the meeting room and was surprised to see only three men sitting there. Senator Robbins, the chairman of the committee, Senator Card, the vice-chair, and the snotty aide.
"We're good, Bobby," Senator Robbins said softly, gesturing for the door. The aide frowned, but saw himself out. "Colonel Sumner."
Sumner couldn't tell if that was an introduction or an accusation, so he kept himself quiet.
"You've done some remarkable things," the vice-chair said. "Remarkable, and questionable."
"Sir?" Sumner asked. He didn't intend to give the Senators a rope to hang him with.
"Look, no one can deny the results you got. Your teams deposed a Dark Lord, a corrupt government, and you caught one of the most wanted men in America. You saved countless student lives and orchestrated a spectacular defense, not only of that school but of London as well." Robbins said.
"But," Card sighed, "child soldiers!? What the hell else am I supposed to say about that?"
"Sir, at the time, they were the only ones the gene therapy worked on. It was the only way we could interact with what, at the time, we worried might be a threat." Sumner had said all of this before when the first inquiries were being made.
"Child soldiers," Card repeated, incredulous. "Colonel, I want you to know that this is not a reflection on your ability, but on your choice to use, and continue to use, underage soldiers. It simply isn't a program we can abide by."
"We have spoken to the members of the committee that were read-in on our treaty with MACUSA. We, along with the President, intend to keep our commitments to our allies and partners in the magical community. However, we are immediately mustering out all under age soldiers, and we strongly advise you and General Thomas to take your retirements."
Sumner swallowed hard. "What are you doing with them?" he asked, and Robbins smiled.
"Speaks well of you to ask about them first. We're going to pay them for their service for one thing. We're setting up a school for anyone still interested in remaining with the military. We'll teach them basic life skills away from prying eyes and allow them to join the military when they're of age. Anyone else, we'll craft an identity for and let them go...on the condition that they remain quiet, of course."
"Of course," Sumner replied tightly, but really it was better than he could have expected...or hoped.
"Get your affairs in order, Colonel," the Senator gestured toward the door. Sumner saw himself out. Maybe he'd go down to Texas.
"Bye mum, I'm going for a walk!" Hermoine called, closing the door behind her with a smile. She looked down at the end of the walkway and saw Mike standing there. As handsome as ever, two eyes staring back at her.
A small part of her missed the eye patch. It was a unique look to be certain, but she was glad he didn't have permanent damage from the crash. Mostly, she thought as he slipped the worn golden coin into his pocket.
"Hey, beautiful," Mike greeted her with a smile. She slipped against him easily and he embraced her. They stood like that for a moment before a car driving past honked at them. They let go, but Mike was still smiling ear to ear, his nose still a little crooked.
"It's good to see you," he said.
"We just saw each other last night," Hermione replied, the familiarity of that greeting causing her to smile as well. Mike was renting a flat just down the road and they saw one another daily.
She slipped her arm into his and they started down the street, into town.
"So," Mike said, "I got a job offer."
Hermione turned to look at him, surprised. She didn't ask how much money he'd been given when the military discharged him, but she had the impression it was a lot. Back pay since he'd started the program as a little child...still, she hadn't known he was looking for a job.
"The Ministry wants me for an executive protection role," Mike said. "Apparently my badass action hero skills caught the attention of the government."
Hermione smiled. "So you took it?"
"I dunno," Mike said. "Not as of yet, but I didn't turn it down either."
"Do you want to do it?" she asked, not sure how to feel. She didn't want him in danger, though things had never seemed more peaceful. After seeing how Voldemort and Eden had been struck down, it didn't seem many others were vying for the title of Dark Lord at the moment.
She'd been looking into working at the Ministry as well, wanting to put her knowledge to good use. Either that or at St. Mungo's. They had a specialty library dedicated to cataloging remedies for curses, hexes, and ailments of all sorts. She loved to study and learn new things, it could be a great fit.
"Kinda," Mike said. "It'd be a shame to let all this talent go to waste, you know?"
"Yeah," Hermione smiled, "I know."
"Oh, hey, we have a stop to make."
Hermione looked up questioningly before remembering. "Oh, that's right!" she exclaimed. She'd almost forgotten.
Sara and Eric had both taken the Army up on their US based school, both wanting to join the military again when they were old enough. It would only be a year, after all.
Sara and the rest of them had to leave pretty quick though, once things settled, and she'd apparently had a necklace made at a shop here in town. Since she was in the States, she wouldn't be able to pick it up.
"Yeah, we both know Sara would kick my ass through the mail if I forgot to pick that up," Mike chuckled.
The shop wasn't far off of their path so it didn't take long. A bell rang as they entered the shop and she was immediately struck by the scent of burning incense. She'd never been much of a fan, but this smelled nice.
Mike walked over to the counter, where the owner greeted him. Hermione took to looking at other jewelry, locked behind glass cases.
There were gaudy rings and necklaces mostly, but a few more tasteful ones. There was one necklace, silver, in the shape of a cat with a pair of sapphires for eyes...she thought it was cute.
"All set?" Mike asked from behind her. She turned and found him on one knee behind her, looking serious and hopeful.
"I sorta messed this up the last time I waited," Mike said through a half smile. He opened the small case in his hands, revealing a thin silver engagement ring, a single diamond in the center with small emerald and sapphire chips inlaid in a square around it. "Hermione Granger, will you marry me?"
She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out, so she just nodded her head up and down furiously and pulled him into a hug.
Brad leaned forward in his chair and cast his line back out. The whizzzz of line rushing through his rod stopped suddenly, in time with the distant splash of water. Though the sea water wasn't particularly turbulent, the volume of moving water caused a background rush that he never got tired of.
He glanced back down into his bucket at the few fish he'd caught. He hadn't taken the boat out since he was simply pleasure fishing today. The bigger one shifted as the two smaller ones bumped into it, swimming laps and trying to find an escape.
He set the rod down in the crook of his chair and picked up his book. It made him smile every time he looked at the cover.
Expectations for the Expectant. He glanced up the dock at the cottage and smiled at the silhouette of Fleur through the kitchen window. She'd been working on some kind of stew for the last few hours. When the wind shifted, the smell that drifted his way made his stomach growl.
Their cottage wasn't a mansion on a private island, but it had a mile long driveway that kept people from snooping and it was right there near the water. Not to mention, it was only about an hour's drive from Saint-Bonnet-du-Gard. They visited Chateau Delacour every weekend.
Brad glanced over at the rapidly retreating sun, just starting to duck beneath the watery horizon. He could still pull a few more casts, but the cottage was calling him. It was Fleur's night to cook and he'd be on dish duty, but he had a feeling she could use a break. She wasn't as spry as usual, after all.
He packed his things and walked down the dock toward the cottage, stopping to give a salute to the Steele. It wasn't much, but it was a way to remember his friend.
Outside the cottage, he dumped the fish into the holding tank. It was a useful place so long as he didn't accidentally dump in something that ate the others. That was a mistake you only made once.
"Hey love," he called as he stepped inside, greeted by the aroma of whatever she was cooking. His French was still accented, he could tell, but he was getting better. He stuffed the rod in the closet and went to change into evening clothes.
In the kitchen, he stepped behind her and she let her head fall back on his shoulder as he kissed her neck, just above her scar. Not for the first time he sent a silent prayer of thanks that Tony had not been a full wolf when he'd bitten her. She'd have the scar forever, but that was the only permanent effect.
She sighed contentedly as he started digging his fingers gently against her lower back, rolling soft circles up her spine. "Mmmm," she groaned softly, "que votre ame soit bénie," she murmured.
He turned her, still massaging out across her lower back and toward her hips as he led her to a chair. She allowed herself to be seated, sighing again in pleasure as he ran one more track up her spine before he stood, his thumbs burning.
"I'm supposed to be cooking, love" she protested, making no effort to stand.
"Oh," he said, sighing with false drama, "well, too late now. I'm already in here."
She leaned back in the chair and rubbed her swollen belly as Brad stirred the contents of the pot, the aromatic steam wafting up. It smelled amazing.
"A few more minutes and it'll be done," she said, paying a little more attention to her belly. "She's kicking!"
Brad jumped over, carefully placing a hand against her abdomen. He felt a soft thump against his hand, and then a firmer one, which made Fleur groan. She must have caught the excitement on his face because she giggled and squeezed his free hand.
"She's going to be energetic," Fleur said, then making a silly face at another unseen kick.
"I think you're right," Brad agreed, turning back to the pot and sighing. He'd dropped the ladle into it.
Hanging his head in defeat, he went and fetched her wand. He'd get dinner right one of these days.
I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who read through to the end! This has been a long project, in which I've learned a lot about writing. I still have a lot to learn, no doubt, but it's all a process. Thank you for taking a chance on a weird story like this and then sticking with it. If you're ever interested what else I'm doing, you can find me on Facebook/Twitter, just search BQ Author. As always, I'd love to know what you did and didn't like about the story. Take care, and happy holidays!