January 22nd

Spending an entire day inside a Muggle police station was far from how Hermione wished to pass the time. Although it did solve a few problems regarding lack of heat, food, or the need to have a plan and keep moving, she knew that she couldn't remain long in custody before her presence was noted by the wrong people. Spies in the Muggle world were everywhere. She knew it would just be a matter of time before the suspicious Muggle authorities broadcast her information to interested parties who could do her a great deal of harm.

Surprisingly, everyone had been kind to her since she was arrested the night before. Or rather, detained they called it. She wasn't sure what the difference was exactly. They still led her to the station in handcuffs and took away all of her personal belongings. It had been difficult to keep from shouting or physically harming the poor innocent officer in charge of digging through her pockets. One look at the wand she held in her hand made the officer's eyebrows raise. Hermione didn't miss how she cut her eyes to her partner in the corner of the room. Either they had seen wands before or they thought she might be crazy. Why else would a strange homeless woman with no identification be carrying an intricately carved stick around in her pocket?

Separated from the other prisoners for either her protection or theirs, Hermione had even been able to catch up on her sleep. There was little to keep her awake. Either she would be discovered and dragged home to her master or she wouldn't. If she was perfectly honest with herself, she was beginning not to even care what happened to her next. It was a dangerous attitude, one she would need to quickly remedy before she found herself in trouble she couldn't get out of. Complacency was an excellent way to get caught.

Because she refused to speak, the officers assumed there was something wrong with her mentally. She almost smiled at the naïveté of the Muggles when they spoke around her in hushed whispers. If they only knew what kind of person she really was, they wouldn't be so quick to judge her as harmless. Trespassing was a crime that was taken seriously, but due to her gentle nature and the fact that she hadn't caused any damage to the property, the owner of the hotel declined to press charges. She should have been released with a stern warning to stay out of empty buildings she didn't have permission to be in. Instead, she was held in a private cell for concern that she might pose a danger to herself or others if released.

Kingsley Shacklebolt had been the one to give her the helpful advice to say as little as possible if detained. His experience working with the Muggle government had given him a perspective about law enforcement on the other side that most of their kind didn't have. He also had powerful connections and friends. When he helped her the first time she was arrested after running away from the Dark Lord, he'd been frustrated with her that she had the arrogance to assume that she had nothing to fear from the Muggle police. She'd spent too much time as the favored pet of Lord Voldemort, he told her with every syllable he spoke dripping with venom. Though not technically a part of the larger Resistance, he lived mostly on the outside of the law. Hermione knew that he was ashamed that she had been so easily turned to the Darkness. Clearly, he didn't know anything about what she endured. Maybe his opinion of her wouldn't have been so soured.

But, he was a honorable enough man to remember their history together as fighters on the same side of the war. Maybe their individual loyalties had shifted, but that didn't mean he was going to let her wander aimlessly through the country without some idea of what she could do. He stated without hesitation that he would not always be around to help her if she needed it nor would he always be willing to assist.

His first rule was to never get caught. If that wasn't possible, then his second rule was to never say a word. Her reticence could keep her alive and out of more trouble. His third rule, which she also broke, was to never leave her wand in a place that could be easily uncovered by a Muggle. They wouldn't know what to do with it. Fear of the unknown could make a situation worse. She was pleased to know that at least she hadn't fucked up the fourth rule. Kingsley had been incensed when he realized anyone who picked up her beaded bag could reach inside to discover it was larger than it should have been. He made her promise him that she would risk detection long enough to seal the spell on the bag so no one but her would be able to reach into the depths. There hadn't been an opportunity to test her success until she witnessed one of the officers reach inside the bag to find very little.

Only an hour before the first twenty-four hours were up and the police would be forced to either charge her or release her, the door to the cell she had been napping in opened. The kind female officer from the night before smiled at Hermione as if she was some kind of simple child. And, she supposed based on how she had acted in the previous day, maybe the woman assumed she was. It was only slightly less annoying than being scowled at like a dangerous criminal.

"Someone's here to take you home, Miss Granger."

Hermione sat up abruptly at the sound of her name. How did the woman know who she was? She hadn't spoken a single word since she was arrested in the hotel lobby and she made certain that anything she kept in her bag that could potentially identify her was hidden. Fear coursed through every vein in her body. When she'd told herself that it didn't matter if she was caught or not, she had been very, very wrong. It did matter. Who was there to pick her up? What home was she being returned to? None of the potential answers to her questions were the least bit comforting.

Fighting the female officer seemed like an acceptable reaction for about half a second until Hermione reconsidered. She hadn't done anything wrong. The woman was just doing her job. There was no way she could have possibly understood what was really happening. For all she knew, the addled young woman in her cell wandered away from some care home in the middle of the night. It was proof that underneath all of her damage, Hermione still had a conscience. She stood up from the uncomfortable bench she'd been happily sleeping on and followed the woman out of the cell.

Each step she took closer to the front of the station twisted Hermione's belly just a little bit more. It could be anyone waiting for her out there. Probably not the Dark Lord himself, but certainly one of his loyal Death Eaters. Antonin might be pacing the reception area. Maybe Malfoy tracked her down again. For a reason she couldn't quite put her finger on, she hadn't yet discarded the coat he admitted to charming with a tracking spell. Kingsley could have heard her description from one of his Muggle mates and decided to check her out for himself. It didn't really matter who it was that was coming to claim her. She wouldn't have believed for even a moment that the one person she wanted it to be would be arsed enough to care. He was most likely wrapped in a warm blanket in front of his fire entirely engrossed in one of those ridiculous mystery novels he could never get enough of.

"Here she is, Mr. Jordan. We're so pleased you stopped by. We were beginning to worry."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the man with the large smile at the reception desk. If she had to make a list of all of the people living in the world that might have come to pick her up from a Welsh jail, she never would have assumed that it would have been the former Quidditch commentator from her House. How long had it been since they'd even seen each other? Without hearing his last name, she wasn't sure that she would've even guessed who he was.

"I'm glad I found her too. My wife and I have been frantic since yesterday when she left. Poor Sarah has been beside herself. She's usually very good about making sure the doors are all locked."

Lee Jordan was putting on a show. For whose benefit, Hermione wasn't sure. He wasn't a Death Eater. He wasn't a member of the Resistance. In fact, he'd made a rather public split from the splintered Resistance after his best friend George Weasley was executed. Hermione hadn't heard much about him since then. How he managed to randomly appear in the exact police station she was held in the middle of the night was something she desperately wanted to know.

The glazed expressions on the few officers and staff standing in the reception area proved that Lee had them all under some kind of spell. With a bright, patronizing smile on his face, he held up her beaded bag and her wand in one hand. If she wanted to have either of those belongings returned to her possession, she knew she would have to go along with whatever farce he was playing at.

"Come on, love. Let's go home. Sarah wants to see you."

She kept her eyes focused entirely on her fellow Gryffindor. Lee called out his thanks to the officers again before grabbing her arm to lead her out the door. His grip was light until they were no longer in the line of sight of witnesses. As soon as they were out on the pavement, he squeezed her arm hard enough that she gasped.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Granger. Not unless you make me. You look like you've had a rough time of it. I can offer you a hot shower and some food."

Experience taught her to be wary of anyone who wanted to help her without having a clear agenda. She knew that she might regret agreeing to follow the wizard home, but her curiosity was in charge. After simply nodding her head, Lee led her to a dark alley. A crack of Apparition and a few moments later, they were standing in front of a simple wooden door painted bright red.

"You are welcome in my home, Granger, but I warn you. My children are asleep inside. If I think for even a second you're going to put them in danger, I'll not hesitate to put you down. Understand?"

She had nothing but respect for a man that cared that much for his children.