It was phenomenal how time flew. The past few days, weeks, months, they all passed by in an instant, a blink of the eyes, or a snap of the fingers. Then again, that is what happens when you're spending time with someone who you get along with. You don't look, don't notice, how time is passing, until you glance at the clock and realise that five hours, ten hours, twelve hours, have all passed. This was something that hadn't happened to Hermione in years.

And she was relishing every single moment of it.

In the first week after their spat, Hermione found out that Loki was sleeping in a hotel. That was fine. What wasn't was the fact that to get into his room at the hotel, Loki had played a mind trick on the lady at the desk and managed to get a room for free. Appalled by his arrogance and lack of honesty, Hermione decided that he could stay in her spare room until he found himself a better place to stay.

Of course, Loki vehemently opposed this. Unfortunately for him, the thirty year old witch was a force to be reckoned with. She wasn't taking no for an answer. So, after hours of being lectured and berated about ethics of all things, Loki begrudgingly moved in to the spare room. He made it known that the arrangement was merely temporary. Only a place for him to stay. Meant to last for no more than two weeks.

Yet, three months later, he was still there. And, for some unknown reason, Loki began to think of the little room as his own. Hermione gave him the go ahead to decorate it however he wanted. Loki didn't decorate it for the first few days, knowing that it was a sign of staying. Yet, after a few more cheeky remarks from Hermione, who was quickly becoming his best friend, he changed the walls to a nice light green colour. Normally, it would be a bit darker and intense, but that was Asgard, not Hermione's cheery little flat covered in knick-knacks and bric-a-brac. Strangely, he found that he liked the room even more and decided that a few more weeks wouldn't hurt anybody.

It was at the end of his third month on Midgard that he realised he wanted to stay in the tiny flat, with such a large comparison to his opulent suite on Asgard. Yet, he didn't mind it. He became used to it. His own little room, completely his own. But most importantly, there were no blonde brothers bursting in, crowing about fights yet to be won and past victories.

In the second week after their spat, Loki let slip that he only had one change of clothes, kept clean by magic. He also changed the look of them with magic. To Hermione, this was unacceptable. So, the next day, she hoisted her little purple bag over her shoulder and dragged a spluttering Loki out to a local department store. When they arrived, he stood in the middle of the vast racks of clothes, eyes wide, looking very much like a lost duckling. Hermione chuckled and pulled him over to the mens section. He tried to make a run for it.

Hermione didn't let him.

After many protests, a grumbling Loki managed to pick up some clothes and disappear into the changing room. Twenty minutes later, a very worried Hermione banged on the door. It was then that she found out that not only was Loki arrogant and a jerk, he was also a very fashion conscious man. She would never forget him berating a pair of jeans, black of course, because they didn't fit him particularly well, nor the look on Loki's face when she caught him. She also gained a new nickname for him that. 'Fop.'

Conveniently, Loki hated it. Whenever Hermione needed his help with her Norse Mythology assignment, she just called that out and a furious Loki barged into the room.

In the third week, Loki decided to try and see if Hermione was capable of any of his magic. The second he proposed finding out, Hermione turned into a rabid dog, pushing him out into the lounge and planting him down in his new chair she bought for him. He explained how they would do it and Hermione nodded, barely able to contain her excitement.

As it turned out, she was capable of very low levels of Asgardian magic. This pleased Hermione immensely, even though there was barely anything she could do. The most she would be able to achieve, Loki knew, was create a soft light source with a wave of her hand. Strangely, to him, even this was enough for Hermione. It was then he found out that Hermione was pleased with new knowledge and abilities, no matter how small.

One very useful spell he could teach her was one that located people according to their magical signature. It was one of the most basic pieces of magic around and worked ridiculously well, with very little power. Loki knew for a fact that it worked throughout the nine realms. Not that Hermione would be able to channel enough power to make it go further than England. Nevertheless, he found himself smiling gently when she finally got it right. He enjoyed teaching her little pieces of his magic. It was like sharing something intimate, something he never thought he would share. She also had a particular affinity to teleporting the Asgardian way, which was far less violent than her cell splintering 'apparition.'

In return, Hermione tried to teach him pieces of her magic. Unfortunately, after only one attempt and nearly blowing up Hermione's lounge, they found out that it definitely wasn't possible. He just wasn't compatible. Typically, they launched into an in-depth discussion about why he couldn't, laughing throughout it and coming to a logical conclusion through sheer determination.

And that was how life carried on. Loki becoming more used to his fleeting time on Midgard. Hermione becoming accustomed to the presence of the odd man in her flat. The second chair in the living room which he often curled up in, or floated into her study. If Hermione didn't know better, she would say that Loki was more human than the first day she met him in the library.

Loki, on the other hand, knew he was changing. For once, though, he didn't try to stop it. They weren't big changes, just little things. Like learning that you didn't have to be serious all the time. Or that tea, a steaming hot liquid he had never encountered before, was brilliant. But, through all of this, he was constantly aware of his time with Hermione slowly dripping down the drain. There was only two weeks before Thor's coronation. That meant he had one week left on Midgard before he was required to return. That traitorous thought was often pushed from his mind, though. He didn't need that brooding cloud ruining what little time he had left with Hermione.

Hermione sighed contentedly as she pushed her chair under her desk, leaving little tracks in the plush carpet. Soon, her assignment would be done. Personally, she thought that it was the best piece of work she had ever done, and that was saying something. Though, that wasn't where her thoughts were today. No, not at all.

Today, she had a surprise for Loki. With all his pestering about her family, she finally decided to take him to meet the Weasley family. She wasn't quite sure that her parents would be able to handle the strange man just yet, so the Weasleys were the best bet. Harry and Ron would be there as well, which was great. It was a long while since Hermione saw them last, so it would be good to catch up. They weren't as close as they used to be, a fact that sometimes saddened her. Sure, Ron and Harry were like peas in a pod, but she was lying on the outside.

Shaking her head of those thoughts, Hermione walked into the lounge. Sitting in his usual green chair was Loki, deeply engrossed in a thick book. She wasn't quite sure what it was about. These days there were so many books crammed into her little library and lining the hallways that she couldn't keep track of all of them.

"Hey," she said softly, sitting down in her own dark blue chair, "how are you?"

Loki lazily glanced up. "I was going quite well, until you ripped me away from this fascinating tale." He returned his head to it. She groaned. Now she knew how Harry and Ron felt when they were fighting with a book for her attention.

"How do you feel about meeting my family? Well, surrogate family My parents wouldn't be able to handle you quite yet." And it was true. They would freak out the second Loki walked in. As accepting as they were about her magic, it still unnerved them. She would slowly introduce him to them, getting them used to the idea first.

Once again, Loki looked up. Only this time, he was interested. "I would like that, yes. You've finally given in, I see. Tomorrow will be fine." He returned to the book. Hermione hissed in frustration. Oh, this was infuriating. Loki did that sometimes. Well, a lot of the time, actually. Sometimes Hermione wondered why she kept the fop around at all.

"Actually, we're leaving in ten minutes."

"I'll be ready." This time he didn't even bother to make eye contact. Finally having enough, Hermione marched across to his chair and snatched the book out of his hands, gently closing it and placing it on the coffee table, after noting his page number. Loki glared at her, though didn't reach for it, knowing that with the 'book harpy' in front of it, there was no use trying to reacquire it.

"You know, when you're talking to people, it's nice to give them your attention, rather than a book." Loki raised an eyebrow.

"Usually, I would agree with that particular sentiment, Hermione. But, coming from you, I can do nothing more than laugh. You do exactly the same. It's a bit rich coming from you, all things considered."

Hermione flopped back down with a huff. "I thought you would be just slightly more interested in meeting them."

"Oh, I am interested."

"Well, you don't look it."

"Do I ever?"

"Fair point," Hermione conceded. "Come on. Surely you can dredge up a little bit more enthusiasm. Oh, and by the way, it isn't a fancy place that we are going."

"Has that ever mattered to me?" Somehow, he managed to say it with a straight face. Hermione, on the other hand, didn't manage to keep herself together, collapsing into giggles.

"You know it has, Loki. Don't think I have forgotten your complaints about your aversion to the 'pitifully plain room you want me to stay in'," Hermione snorted, only causing her to laugh harder. Finally, Loki conceded and cracked a smile.

"I don't know how you do it, Hermione," Loki began, "but you always manage to make me laugh."

"Good." Hermione sobered up. "You need it. I've only known you for a few months, but trust me, I can tell you don't laugh a lot. At least, you didn't before you met me. Guess I've done you some good, eh?"

"More than some," Loki muttered. Hermione glanced curiously at him.

"What was that?"

"Absolutely nothing of your concern," Loki said tersely. Hermione shrugged. He didn't want to share, so she wouldn't push. That was something that she liked about their friendship. They both respected each other's boundaries, knowing when the other person didn't want to share. It made Hermione realise how lucky she was to have a friend like Loki, no matter how haughty he was. And she supposed that maybe, just maybe, Loki considered himself lucky to have her as a friend. She would never know, though there was nothing wrong with hoping.

"Oh, before we go," said Hermione. "If you're going to use magic, you're going to have to make it look like you're channeling it through a wand." Loki raised an eyebrow. She knew he couldn't possibly use a wand. "So, I took the liberty of getting you a stick that looks like a wand." She delved into her bag, up to her shoulder in it. "Aha, here we go."

Hermione pulled out a dark stick of wood with an intricately carved handle and some vines twined around it. She thrust it at Loki. "Make sure to use it if you perform any of your magic. Non-verbal magic is possible, so they won't question it. Just don't do anything without it, kapeesh?"

"I suppose I must lower myself to your standards," Loki sighed dramatically, before cracking a smile. "It does make sense, though. I must ask, where did you get this stick?"

"I have a friend whose hobby is carving wood. Wasn't too hard to get him to do it, he owed me a favour anyway." Hermione slung her bag back over her shoulder. "Alright then. Shall we go?"

"Why not?"

With a smirk, Hermione linked her arms through Loki's. After a few weeks of practice, she was far more comfortable using his form of teleportation. It was gentle and silent, feeling like a slight breeze was blowing over you. It was a stark comparison to the extreme compression of apparition. Hermione had grown to immensely prefer it, even though she often landed a few metres off her destination.

Loki nodded at her and Hermione thought of the Burrow. A small gust of wind buffeted their faces, then stopped. They were standing in the slightly overgrown yard of the Burrow. Itchy grass waved brushed up against their legs and gnarled trees gripped onto the crumbling brick wall bordering the large property. Ahead, was the haphazard house known as the Burrow, held up by magic and live in by impossibly welcoming people.

"Well, this is...different."

Hermione gently elbowed him in the ribs. He grunted and decided that keeping his mouth shut would be a better idea, rather than facing the lecture he was sure to get.

"It may be different, but this place is practically a third home to me. Come on, they're waiting inside."

"Let the games begin, then."

In a comfortable silence, Hermione and Loki stepped through the field, coming closer to the door of the burrow. They reached the door and Hermione raised her hand to knock on it. She did, three times.

Almost immediately, the door was thrown open. A plump woman with greying ginger hair hurried out, enveloping Hermione with such force that she nearly bowled her over. Loki took a cautious step back. If this woman was anything like Hermione, then she was a force to be reckoned with. He knew that appearances could be deceiving, so he wasn't making assumptions based on her warm, welcoming eyes and tattered floral apron.

He would never make that mistake again.

"Oh, Hermione, it's so good to see you dear," exclaimed Mrs. Weasley. She cupped Hermione's cheeks. "Look at you, so mature. Come in, come in." For an unknown reason, she didn't even notice Loki standing beside Hermione. Her arms flapped around, clearly anxious about something, though Loki couldn't place it. It was something small, that was for sure.

"It's great to see you too, Molly," Hermione replied. "Can we come inside?"

"Of course dear―wait, we?" Mrs. Weasley suddenly saw the tall, imposing figure of Loki standing behind Hermione. Her eyes widened comically and she placed a hand over her heart. "Merlin's beard! Don't give me a fright like that!"

"Hello," Loki said gingerly. He raised a hand and waved slightly. "I'm Loki, nice to meet you." Mrs. Weasley looked him up and down, eyes narrowed.

"Nice to meet you too. I've got food on the table. Go and eat some, you're thin as a rake." With that, she ushered them inside, gesturing frantically with her hand. The door shut behind them and Loki took in the strange room in front of him. It had a relatively high ceiling, though the paint was chipping off the walls. Couches were positions haphazardly around the room, blankets and cushions thrown at random over them. The colours clashed horribly, though it seemed to work. Overall, Loki got an overwhelming feeling of 'home' and 'safe.'

It was strange, to say in the least. Never before had Loki entered a building such as this, one that seemed to rush forwards and embrace him, exactly like Mrs. Weasley. It was comforting, in an unorthodox way.

He ducked through a doorframe, into what was obviously the dining room. A long, wooden table, faded and chipped, stretched along the length of it. It was meant for a lot of people, that much was clear. People who clearly weren't here at the moment. Loki supposed that they were going to arrive later. Surely they weren't coming here just to meet Mrs. Weasley, as lovely as she was.

"Come on, sit down." Loki squawked in indignation as he was manhandled into a seat. A steaming plate of food, piled as high as it could go, was set down on the table in front of him. He had to admit, it smelled delicious. Although, it looked strange. It was food he'd never seen before. "Eat," Mrs. Weasley insisted. "I usually would wait for the others to arrive, but you're far too thin. I ought to keep you here until you look a bit more healthy."

"I assure you, I'm quite healthy," said Loki. "Thought I won't refuse your offer of this delectable looking meal."

Mrs. Weasley smiled. "Now, flattery won't get you anywhere. And who said it was an offer? Eat!" She once again flapped her hands in front of Loki's face, before bustling off to the kitchen, wand held in her hand. She was definitely a character, Loki thought. Never in his life had he met anyone even remotely like her. He wasn't complaining, though.

Hermione sat down opposite him, smirking. "So, what do you think of Molly?"

"She certainly something," he said, leaning back in the seat and crossing his arms. "Though, I must say, an excellent cook."

"That is true."

"Eat, Loki!" came the voice of Mrs. Weasley from the kitchen. Hermione laughed.

"You better eat, otherwise she becomes quite like a harpy. A very motherly one."

"Can't argue with that." Loki picked up his knife and fork and began digging into his food. It melted in his mouth. Soon, it was completely gone, his plate cleared. As soon as he put down the cutlery in the polite way that Hermione taught him, a loud crack echoed through the air. Mrs. Weasley practically ran to the door, as three more loud cracks reached their ears.

"Looks like the rest of the gang has arrived," said Hermione. "Want to go and meet them? I'm going."

"No, I think I would like to sit here and contemplate where this food has been all of my existence." Hermione laughed, grabbing his wrist.

"Come on."

She dragged him back to the lounge, where Mrs. Weasley was greeting a lot of people. Loki blinked. He didn't know that there could be such a sheer volume of redheads in one place. There were so many of them he was tempted to rub his eyes to double check if he was seeing things.

"They," Hermione said, pointing at the congregation, "are the Weasleys. Famous for their red hair."

"I can see why."

"Ron and Harry aren't here, though." She deflated a little bit. "Guess that can be expected. The Dark Wizards are going crazy at the moment. They must be on a mission."

"I'm sure they'll turn up," said Loki.

"No, they won't. Don't try to give me false hope." Loki sighed. He knew she was looking forward to seeing her best friends again. Then again, he also knew that they couldn't control what missions and assignments they went on, due to the unpredictable nature of their job. He glanced at Hermione. She shot him a look that told him to drop it.

So he did.

Mrs. Weasley ushered them all inside. Soon, everyone found a place on the multitude of couches. Loki and Hermione were squished between two tall, lanky men, one with scars all over his face and the other wearing horn rimmed glasses.

"Alright, everyone. Thanks for coming. Dinner will be on the table soon."

Mrs. Weasley returned to the kitchen, leaving Loki in the middle of a group of happily chatting family members. He wasn't quite sure what to do in the situation. Social gatherings were never his forte, as much as he liked to pretend that they were. Maybe if he just stayed silent and hoped that it would be over soon then he would be fine. It wasn't like he could leave a replica of himself and flee to the outside. They would spot that.

"So, who're you, then?" The man to his right started talking to him.

"Loki. Just Loki. And you?"

"Percy, nice to meet you. You probably want to go and talk to George, over there." Percy gestured to the slightly stockier ginger man, George. Oddly enough, he looked lonely, even though he was surrounded by a crowd. Like he was missing something more than his ear.

"And why is that?" asked Loki.

"You share the name of one of his idols, Loki Odinson, God of Mischief and all things 'bright and beautiful,'" Percy said nonchalantly. Loki almost choked. He couldn't have someone find out who he was, not here, not now. He was enjoying the anonymity.

"I get that a lot," Loki stuttered. He stood and moved to the spare spot next to George, who waved cheerily.

"Nice to meet you, mate. How'd you end up with a name like Loki? Some parents you must have."

"Believe it or not, Hermione said exactly the same thing. And some parents indeed." He was referring to his father, of course. Frigga was different to his father.

"And it's not just the name, either," chimed Hermione. "He also has extensive knowledge of Norse Mythology. He's been helping me with my work assignment."

George raised an eyebrow. "Really? Alright, then, tell me something cool about Norse mythology. Preferably something about Loki." Loki smirked. Now that was something he could tell them. And blaming his intimate knowledge on his family being enthusiasts about Norse mythology would be easy as pie. He was fantastic at lying. Well, in this case, it was more of a misdirection, than a lie. He found himself doing it a lot, these days, especially around Hermione. She did ask a great load of questions that could be very exposing if he answered them wrong.

"You've got your wish. Oh, you know what?" Loki stood up in the middle of the lounge. If he was going to tell a story, he was going to tell it properly. They wanted it, and they would receive it. For once, a chance to talk about himself without invasive questions about Thor.

"What?" asked the man Loki knew was called Bill.

"I can act. I'll play the part of Loki, shouldn't be a problem. Just give me a second." Loki pulled out the stick Hermione gave him earlier and swished it in a random pattern. His normal clothes disappeared in an instant, being replaced with his regal Asgardian attire, sans horned helmet. That was for the most formal of occasions, not telling a story.

"Nice getup, mate," said Bill. "Real faithful to the legends."

"Well, when my parents are who they are, its kind of hard not to know it off by heart. Now, do you want me to tell the story or not?"

"You even asking that?" said George. He was grinning from air to air. Bill put his head in his hands. Though the worst of George's obsession with Loki and the Marauders was over, he still had the occasional relapse. And now this new friend of Hermione's certainly wasn't helping with the fact that he looked exactly like the myth.

"You see, it all began when my boorish brother and I decided to go hunting in the forests of Asgard, for a bilgesnipe. It was to be but a simple hunt, as bilgesnipe aren't the most subtle of creatures―"

Suddenly, a silver stag crashed through the walls of the house. It galloped into the centre of the room, throwing its massive antlers about, booting Loki out of his spot. The stag opened its mouth and began to speak in an urgent voice.

"Molly, we're in danger. It's worse out here than we thought. I don't know if we're going to come back in one piece." Hermione gave a terrible moan, putting her hands over her mouth. Loki guessed that this was Harry speaking. "We need back-up. I sent the patronus to you because the Auror department is too far away. We're in Totnes, the Ministry will know the location. Pass on this message. It is urgent. We need backup now or we might not make it out alive."

The stag faded away into mist, leaving the room in a terrible, crushing silence. Then Hermione urgently stood, yelling into the kitchen.

"Molly, floo the Ministry, tell them that Harry and Ron need urgent backup in Totnes." Then, she turned to Loki, fire blazing in her eyes. "Now you know that I'm not just going to sit here while they fight, Loki. So, what do you say. Want to come with me?" She held out her hand, not paying attention to the sudden clamour of noise and objection around her.

She didn't see Mrs. Weasley frantically run into the lounge to stop her, nor did she notice how everyone stood up and moved towards the pair. Loki did, though and urged her to be quick.

"Of course." Loki grabbed onto Hermione's hand and let her teleport them to wherever Totnes was. A slight breeze blew over them and...there was fire all around them, licking the buildings and devouring the sky. Screams were everywhere, piercing into their hearts.

He wasn't expecting to fight today. But here was, heading towards what seemed to be a devastating battle, with Hermione, who he knew was a warrior from her tales of the Second Wizarding War. Yes, he wasn't expecting to fight today. There was one thing he knew for certain, though.

They were going to go in there.

And they were going to win.

Bit longer than I expected. This was actually meant to be the last chapter, but there was too much to fit into one, so the next chapter is a continuation of this one. As most chapters usually are. I'm actually getting ideas for a longer storyline for this story, so it may turn out a little longer than expected, but I'm happy about that. It's a natural thing for it to happen, so I'm going to let this little bunny grow, even though some pruning my need to be done in places. As is normal.

Thank you to all who read, reviewed, favourited and followed. I appreciate it so much.

Sincerely,
Mariadoria.