Author: bimupp

Title: Chapter four

Rating: PG, just to be on the safe side

A/N: Kittens and cookies to my lovely beta, you rock.

Remember that reviews are love and that they give my sometimes sleeping muse a good kick in the butt!

One would assume that a highly accomplished Auror would get to see more action than this, Hermione pondered relentlessly as she, with an elegant wand flourish, undersigned and archived yet another report on two neighbours accusing each other of being death eaters.

"Still no dark wizards" would be the occasional headline of The Daily Prophet these days, but she knew it to be a false statement.

The ultimate defeat of Voldemort five years ago had meant the end of him and many of his followers, but there had been Grindelwald before him and another powerful and evil wizard or witch would surely come afterwards.

There was no knowing when this would happen, but Hermione and the Auror Headquarters she, for most practical purposes, led would not be caught off guard, no matter how inane the headlines or how oblivious the public.

Hermione had organised a worldwide wizarding intelligence network to keep track of dark wizard movements everywhere on the planet. This had revolutionised the work of the British Aurors, who until the launch of the network had been reduced to the UK and had barely concerned themselves with espionage at all.

Hermione's work hours were mainly spent reading reports on both international and local events and correspondence with her local and international colleagues.

Fieldwork that needed seeing to by someone of her rank was scarce. The finger pointing and more or less real sightings of wanted dark wizards or witches, that was what most Auror cases consisted of these days, and it was nothing her co-workers couldn't handle by themselves.

Involvement by her, or worse, by the Head of Headquarters, would only be seen as en effort to question the competence of the Aurors handling the case; which was hardly justified, since incompetent Aurors and Aurors with bad judgement had long since been sacked.

Only the best was good enough for Hermione and her boss.

She put down her quill and stretched her back, which responded to this abuse by creaking loudly.

The end of the workday was in sight.

Her cubicle looked very much like the ones surrounding it, only slightly larger and much tidier. A desk with a comfortable chair took up most of the floor space, filing cabinets and a small but crammed bookshelf most of the wall space.

She was lucky enough to have three cubicle walls and the advantage of having been placed opposite one of the enchanted windows. This one let in the golden hue of a hot summer's day, with promises of ice cream and sand between your toes in its glow. A stark contrast to the reality a couple of hundred meters above the Ministry, where a chilly autumn rainstorm haunted the streets of London.

Hermione had not succumbed to the practice most Aurors had of filling up every available space in their cubicles with 'most wanted' posters. She had only selected two decorations.

The first was a framed photograph of Crookshanks that she kept on her desk. He was stretching himself and yawning, showing off a large number of sharp yellow-tinted teeth. Hermione thought it was immensely cute, but few others agreed.

The other decoration hung on the wall to the right of the desk. It was a rather large quidditch poster, also with moving images, depicting the all female team that was the Holyhead Harpies.

Hermione hadn't been much of a quidditch enthusiast during her time at Hogwarts, but after years of being dragged to games by not only Harry, the professional quidditch player, but also Ron and Ginny, quidditch fans extraordinaire, she had had little choice but to start enjoying the sport herself.

The poster depicted the Harpies mid-game and battling not only their archrivals, the Puddlemere United, but also a fierce rain storm.

Flashes of green robes with golden talons on the front were mixed with blue robes with golden bulrushes, as the two teams flew rapidly in all directions across the pitch.

The top of the poster sported a caption in the green and golden team colours. It changed every few hours and had recently altered from "Holyhead Harpies-home of the champions" to "Holyhead Harpies-making witches score since 1203."

Valmai Morgan, one of the Harpy chasers, was at the center of the poster, leaning closely over her broom with a quaffle in her left hand, racing for the goal hoops. Her curly hair was short cropped and the dampness made it stick to her forehead. Occasionally she would stop her intent gazing at hoops and the Puddlemere keeper in from of them to look at the spectator of the poster with a hint of her mischief in her eyes.

Ron had asked Hermione about a thousand times why in the world she chose to root for the Harpies instead of his favourites, the Chudley Cannons. She usually answered that much unlike the Cannons, the Harpies consisted of excellent players and furthermore were known for giving the spectators good value for their money.

Besides that, she also found it important to support an all female team that so often flattened its opponents in a male dominated quidditch world. It was an obvious team choice for any aware feminist.

Ron usually just sniggered at these arguments, but Ginny, a fellow Harpies fan would, if present, voice her wholehearted agreement.

Meanwhile, Hermione would often tell herself that her rooting for the Harpies had nothing whatsoever to do with the known facts that Valmai Morgan, an excellent chaser who had scored 10 goals single handedly in her first match with the Harpies, had a cute nose, flew with utmost grace and looked stunning in wet robes.

It would be a lot easier to believe herself if poster-Morgan would stop winking at her already!

With a small scowl at the offending poster, Hermione got up from the chair and went over to the coat rack to retrieve her cloak before she left the office for the day.

As usual, she was among the last to leave, so the corridor of the department for magical law enforcement was almost empty as she went over to the golden lifts.

She got into a one that sported no more occupants than five memos circling the lamp. The lift jerked downward and the usual litany began: "Level three, department of magical accidents and catastrophes, level four, department of regulation and control of magical creatures, level five department of international magical cooperation..." and so on, all the way to level eight, which was the atrium where she got out.

Hermione stepped over to one of the many fireplaces and flooed home.

At the same time, Luna was sitting by her kitchen table and chewing at the end of a quill. In front of her lay an empty parchment and an unopened bottle of her favourite lilac ink.

"Why in the world should it be so difficult to write an effing letter," she thought. This was her third attempt at writing Hermione a letter suggesting that they meet for a spot of tea, or dinner maybe.

Even the beginning proved hard to phrase.

"Dear Hermione."
No.

"Hi there."
No.

"Achtung baby!"
Definitely not.

Finally, she started to slowly scribble in the top left corner of the parchment:

"September 19th, 2002."

She thought for a while and chewed some more on the quill and then wrote "Hermione" beneath the date and to the middle, and began the letter at last.

"Dinner at 1730, the Leaky cauldron, Saturday the 21st, join me? Send Astra back with the answer, please.

P.S Don't upset her, she molts.

Best wishes,
Luna"

That would just have to do. She folded the greenish tinted parchment in half and went to retrieve an envelope from her bedroom.

As she was looking through the drawer where she kept her correspondence paraphernalia, a clicking noise started to emit from the direction of the window.

Luna went over to the window to find a large eagle owl clacking her talons at the sill with an accusing look in her yellow eyes.

"I'm sorry, Shiva, but I had to seal your entrance to the owl pipe. Your mummy just won't take a hint."

Luna rummaged through her robe pockets for a while and finding what she was looking for, she stretched her hand towards Shiva who was fluttering her wings expectantly.

"Here you go, but that's all you'll get, you little candy monster! Astral's not at home, I'm afraid."

Shiva devoured the owl treats at an impressive speed and hooted happily as Luna extracted the letter from her leg; the letter, which she was not surprised to see, sported Padma's handwriting.

Luna sighed, took the letter and went back to the living room where she threw it unopened into the crackling fire.

"Six letters in one and a half week; sweet Merlin! She never wrote that often when we were infatuated lovers, so why now?"

Luna hadn't opened a single one of the letters, nor answered them, and was determined to keep that up. She guessed they contained either apologies or begging to get back into her good graces. Maybe both.

Sunlight was slowly rising over the hill behind the apartment building. A new day was approaching.

Luna expected her snowy owl Astra to return from her nightly killing spree any minute now.

Astra was the daughter of Luna's father's senile female owl Aspera, so she had lived with the Lovegoods since she'd only been an egg but this hadn't calmed her disposition in the least.

This was hardly surprising since her mother was to put it bluntly, mental. Among other things, Aspera was prone to eating curtains, sleep in the pantry and had an irrational fear of slippers.

Astra wasn't that eccentric, but she did occasionally have bursts of anger, had never been fully house trained and had a habit of attacking oatmeal.

Somehow none of this had stopped her from forming a friendship of sorts with Shiva, Padma's owl.

They used to sit together, fly away to hunt together and sleep together during the day. When Shiva was around, Astra would be very docile and barely bite Luna at all.

The owl still hadn't showed up and Luna was beginning to worry. Supposedly she could always send the letter to Hermione with Shiva. Padma wouldn't find out and it wouldn't matter if she did.

Yes, Luna thought, she'd better do that before she changed her mind again about how to phrase the letter.

She picked out an owl treat and offered it and the letter to the owl that was sitting atop a cupboard cleaning her wings.

"Shiva dear, mind taking this to Hermione Granger?"

Shiva flew down and ate the treat as Luna petted her. She didn't protest as Luna tied the letter to her left leg and then she took off with a couple of hoots through the open window.

Luna sighed and went over to the window to gaze around for the white speck of Astra. It took a while but suddenly she saw it flying towards the darker and bigger shape of Shiva, and together the owls took off into the dawn. Luna closed the window, smiled and went to bed.

Hermione was in bed, sleeping the deep and untroubled sleep of the righteous when she jumped out, alarmed by a horrible scratching noise, or so she thought.

Crookshanks leapt up from his usual spot on Hermione's feet and growled. There the noise was again; it was coming from the left.

Hermione lit her bedside lamp and peered over at the familiar sight of owls and released a breath she didn't realise that she had been holding,

There were usually only two owls that brought letters here, Pigwidgeon and Hedwig, so these owls were unfamiliar, but a common and harmless sight nonetheless.

Crookshanks ran around expectantly, hoping for an early snack, but Hermione carried him into the bathroom in a gentle but firm way and closed the door. Then she let the owls in.

The white one started to circle the room while the brown one sat itself down on the table in the middle of the room, looked at Hermione and raised its left leg, which had a letter attached to it.

Hermione extracted it, read it, smiled and went to fetch a quill and paper, as she was up anyway. She only had Ministry paper, so she sat herself down by the table, chewed at the end of her quill and wrote:

"Looking forward to it. See you there. Hermione."

She put the letter in its envelope and went back to the brown owl, but as she bent over in front of it to tie the letter to its leg, the owl flew up and sat down on the lamp shade; hooting. The white owl started to hoot too, fluttered its wings and flew towards Hermione. It sat down on the bed, pecked at the pillow and offered its leg. Hermione shook her head, amused at the display. Somehow she figured that this one had to be Luna's owl.

"Okay then, you get the letter."

She tied the letter securely and as soon, as she was finished the owl pecked hard at her hand.

Hermione cursed and nursed her hand, which was bleeding a little, and she watched the owls fly away. Then she went back to her bed and was soon gently snoring until a very angry Crookshanks started to wreak havoc at her bathroom door.

Several excuses and a long petting session later, human and cat were once again sleeping soundly.

The dawn of Thursday the 21st of September brought a crisp cold and a clear sky.

Frost crackled beneath Hermione's boots as she walked through the empty streets to buy a newspaper to read with her breakfast.

For some reason, the Daily Prophet was rarely delivered before eight a.m. and Hermione was long since at work by then. As she preferred her freshly ground coffee with an equally fresh newspaper, this block long walk to her local 7-11 store was a daily routine for her. She rubbed her hands together and breathed on them as she increased her pace.

It was six thirty a.m. and Luna wouldn't wake up for another three hours at least.

The day passed by in its usual manner for both women. This, however, meant unusual for Luna, who spent her morning interviewing first a number of witches in Dover who claimed to have had the Marble Mermaid over for tea, and then a wizard in Southampton who, allegedly, was married to a bowtruckle called Holly.

Those conversations took up most of the morning, and then Luna had lunch for two hours at a café in Southampton. She always had lunch where she happened to be after her morning interviews, even though she could apparate to wherever she wanted.

Even Luna was a creature of habit in some ways, and her dad, who always did the same thing, had passed this habit on to her.

After her third cup of tea, she apparated home and spent the rest of her working day transforming the recorded interviews to flowing text. Since she didn't like quick notes quills after Harry's experience with them, this usually took a while.

All of this was every day routine for her. She started out with interviews or research, had lunch and then made one or several articles based on it. Loosely mostly. As most days, she let herself off at 16:30 and was unfamiliar with the concept of overtime.

Having her dad as boss had both advantages and perks. Luna took a quick shower, put on a light blue robe, combed her hair and fastened it with a sea shell clip on the right side, put some money in her pocket and had time for yet another cup of tea before apparating to the Leaky Cauldron.

Hermione was shuffling her feet outside the entrance when Luna appeared with a pop. She smiled a bit nervously at Luna but she just said 'hi' and offered her her arm.

"Shall we?" Luna said and in they went.

"What about there?" Hermione asked as she pointed over to a table in a secluded area of the Leaky.

"Sure."

As Hermione started to unbutton her cloak, Luna came up behind her and grabbed it by the neck, causing her hands to caress Hermione's neck. It made her shiver and Luna smiled a self-assured smile behind Hermione's back. She took the cloak and laid it down with her own on a nearby stool. The Leaky didn't seem to believe in coat racks.

Hermione had chosen a white blouse and brown skirt to wear this evening, paired with a golden necklace and earrings. Her bushy hair was untied but carefully trimmed and framed her face with curls.

"l like your sea shell," she said.

She had always thought, when pondering the matter at all, that Luna dressed at random, but if that was the case today, it was a very lucky coincidence how her blond hair, light blue dress robes and the white shellfish clip all blended together. She looked beautiful, Hermione concluded, surprised.

Luna just looked at her and smiled as Hermione sat, deep in thought, but then Luna said:

"I'd like some soup. What about you?"

"Haven't decided yet. Do you see the menu anywhere?"

"Over there." Luna gestured to the left where a chalkboard stood by the bar. The names of the dishes written on it could just about be seen from their table with some peering.

"Pumpkin soup sounds good," Hermione said, after some time pondering over the not many but all delicious courses of very British food.

She preferred French or Italian, but had agreed to come here because of the atmosphere. It was rustic and ancient and the menu hardly ever changed, but it was still lively and somewhat modern because of the guests who often consisted of wizarding tourists from all over the world.

And it held many memories since she had stayed here on many occasions herself.

"So, how was your day?" she asked Luna when their soups had arrived; their delicious small making her stomach grumble loudly.

She picked up her spoon and started eating, and Luna began to tell her about her day.

Hermione listened with growing interest and fascination. She had only heard of the Marble Mermaid in passing and was surprised to learn that Luna didn't believe a word of what the witches had told her about the tea party, or even that the Mermaid existed. There apparently were creatures whose existence she doubted.

Hermione had many questions and the subject of conversation turned to myths and legends, where they both entertained each other with stories the other hadn't heard before.

Luna's mother had been a muggleborn, but since she'd died when Luna was nine she didn't get to hear many muggle legends and myths, so Hermione told her about some of them now, and Luna gave wizarding ones in return, accompanied by her father's beliefs and views. The ones she still agreed with anyway. She had learned some years previously that just because her beloved dad believed in something, it didn't have to be true.

That had been hard to deal with at the time, but it had been a rewarding experience over time. She told Hermione this too. They were halfway through the main course when Colin Creevey showed up.

As an adult, he was less idol worshipping than he had been at school, but he was still as exuberant and jolly as ever. And he still didn't have a clue when his presence wasn't wanted.

"Hermione, hello," he exclaimed and came over to their table.

"And you're Miss Lovegood, of course. I read every issue of the Quibbler, you know. Lovely magazine, but there aren't many pictures in it. I can help you there, if you want, and you'll get a good price too. I'm a freelance photographer, see. I got some pictures into the Prophet last week. Did either of you notice them?"

Before either woman managed to get a word in, he took a chair from a neighbouring table without asking, sat himself down by their table and picked up his brief case. It was menacingly thick and sure enough, contained his portfolio, which sported mostly portraits, which he started to extract and explain in vivid detail.

Luna seemed every bit an interested listener and inserted questions whenever the constant flood of words halted, but her brow was furrowed.

Hermione sat quietly and wondered if she should speak up and tell Colin to go away, but how would she phrase that? And whenever she, or usually someone in her company, had managed to tell him to sod off in the past, his big brown eyes had gone all teary and he had sort of caved in on himself.

His brother Dennis acted pretty much the same, so telling either of them to go away felt like kicking a puppy. It was a horrible act Hermione decided that she just couldn't commit for whatever reason. Instead, she forced herself to feign interest and she finished her meal as Colin happily droned on and on.

When Tom, the bartender, passed by, Hermione improved the situation by ordering three mugs of mulled mead and telling him to keep them coming. With a bit of luck, Colin would soon get drunk and fall asleep on the table.

No chance of that happening, it seemed. Three hours, later they were all in different stages of intoxication, but Colin's chatter, though not as fast-paced, was still in effect.

Slurring, he was telling the others and innocent passers-by all about the wonderful Hasselblad camera his grandfather had owned, and all its fantastic qualities.

Hermione was considering hexing him, with increasing seriousness.

Finally, Colin uttered the magic words, and 'silencio' wasn't one of them:

"No, really mates. I should get home now. Got an early shooting tomorrow and if I'm late, Mrs. Perlman will be so peeved she'll probably hex my lens and we wouldn't want that now would we?" he giggled. "But it's been a blast. We'll have to do this again some time soon, right?"

"Sure," Hermione and Luna said simultaneously and caught each other's relieved expressions.

Colin patted their backs and left.

The two women were seated by the bar now, both clutching a butterbeer.

"Well," Hermione began unsurely.

"I might be drunk," Luna said and they both laughed at that.

"Me too," Hermione admitted and they both had another attack of the giggles.

"I guess we should head home," Luna said once the giggling had subsided.

"I guess you're right," Hermione answered and tried to sober herself up.

"Help me off this stool, will you?" Luna said and peered down her bar stool like it was a cliff.

Hermione jumped off her own, careful not to trip, and stood in front of Luna. "How?" she asked.

"Just stand there in case I fall."

Luna started to glide down her stool with a solemn expression that made Hermione laugh again. Luna gazed at her, but said nothing and all of a sudden, she was down on the floor and leaning heavily on Hermione. When a minute had passed and she still hadn't moved Hermione felt compelled to ask:

"Are you alright?"

"Yes. Just keep me steady, please. She took Hermione's arm and placed it over her shoulders.

"Let's go. I don't think I should apparate tonight. Neither should you probably. Let's take the bus."

"But we don't live in the same city. No bus goes to both our areas."

"The Knight bus does."

"Right," Hermione said, feeling stupid. " I just hope it won't shake too badly. I hate throwing up!"

'I can't believe I said that,' she thought and looked at Luna, who luckily didn't seem to take offense.

"Me too. Hopefully they'll see what state we're in and go easy on us."

"Right then, here we are," Luna said as they arrived just outside the Leaky Cauldron. The street was deserted and the rain echoed off the dustbins in the alley.

Luna produced her wand and called on the bus.

"Hermione..."

"Yes?"

"This evening has turned into a real disaster. Mind if I make it better?"

"Of course not. Go ahead."

The next thing Hermione knew, Luna was kissing her, tongue and all. Hermione couldn't figure out how she should or wanted to respond to that, so she took the easy route and returned the gesture; hesitantly at first, but then Luna grabbed her arms and got closer and then Luna did this incredible thing with her tongue and Hermione decided that she didn't want the kiss to end. Instead she put her hands on Luna's cheeks and pulled her even closer.

When the Knight bus came crashing into the alley with a loud thud, neither woman noticed.