A/N: Chapter 3 of 3. Thanks to everyone who has been supportive of this. It will probably take me forever, since I have a bunch of WIPs, but this might not mark the end of my NCIS/HP days. We'll see... Enjoy!

After working for so many years in the same area he had grown accustomed to the everyday noises like ringing phones, copiers, and low level talking. So he didn't even notice when the elevator door dinged to announce someone had arrived on their floor. He did, however, notice several seconds later when he suddenly found himself surrounded by three angry-looking women, two with their hands on their hips, the third clutching a garment bag and tapping her foot. He looked up into the face of Hermione, his wife of fifteen years, and swallowed hard. He knew why she was there, but he had not expected her to recruit Ziva and Abby as reinforcements. Tony, who had a great sense of self-preservation, had retreated to the comfort of his desk, and for a second he said a quick prayer that Gibbs had retired from field work and was now teaching interrogation, well away from the scene that was about to happen.

"It's five-thirty," Hermione said impatiently.

"Yeah," he said nervously. "Yeah, it is."

"You said that you were leaving at five."

"Yeah, I, uh, I did."

"But you are obviously here."

"Yeah. Yeah, I am."

"When exactly were you planning on leaving?" she asked, hand going to her hip. He would never say it aloud, especially in front of Tony, but he found her so attractive when she was angry. Her face would flush slightly, there would be a fire behind her eyes, and he could feel the power of her magic radiating around her, ready for quick use. He knew if he pushed too far that magic might actually manifest itself, but if he was careful he got a view of one sexy, former warrior Hermione, and luckily for him it wasn't very often she turned down make-up sex.

"I was just… I mean… I've been really swamped here, Hermione, and I still have so much to do…"

"Oh, no you don't," Abby cut in. "Timothy McGee, you are not going to weasel out of this one."

"You do not have to do all your paperwork tonight. It can wait until Monday," Ziva threw in.

Tim threw them both looks that said plainly 'thanks for backing me up'.

"I really want to get this done," he said, vaguely pointing at his computer screen, but he could sense he had already lost the fight.

"No," Hermione said firmly. "You promised her. She's been looking forward to this for weeks. I've spent two hours getting her ready and convincing her you are going to be there. I had to send her with Emily and her dad, I will be damned if you stand her up."

"But…"

"Two hours, McGee! Unaccpetable!" Abby trilled.

"If you do not get ready right now, I will knock you unconscious and drag you there myself," Ziva warned.

"Not to mention what I'll do to you later, and that's before I hand you over to Molly Weasley," Hermione finished.

Suddenly he felt something hitting the back of his head. He looked up in surprise to see Gibbs standing there, cup of coffee in one hand, stern look on his face. "McGee, you made a promise. Go," he said simply.

"Yes, boss… er, Gibbs," he stuttered, scrambling to his feet. Even though Gibbs had stepped down two years prior he was not an uncommon sight, and still had everyone calling him 'boss'. Hermione followed him to the mens bathroom.

"When you called in reinforcements I didn't think you'd stoop that low," he said as she followed him into the bathroom without even checking to see if there was someone else inside. Luckily there wasn't.

"I'll stoop as low as I need to get you there. Now hurry, or I will Apparate you there," she shot back.

"I will," he promised quickly. He hated Apparation, and would do almost anything to avoid it.

"That was quite a show, Mrs. McGoo," Tony said as he entered the bathroom, casually leaning against the sinks. "You really know how to call in the troops."

"Any witty movie quotes for me, Tony? I'm kind of in a hurry, so you best get them out now," Hermione muttered, sliding a pair of shoes under the stall door.

"Ouch. Have I become so predictable that you think you can script our conversations?"

"Yes," she replied with a smile.

"I should feel insulted," he scowled.

"If it takes that little to insult you, I'd be more concerned about your fragile little psyche."

"Don't you worry about my little psyche, Mia-knee," he smirked. "I'd be much more concerned about my…"

"Finish that thought and I'll show you exactly how I brought down a fugitive murderer," she said dangerously.

He flinched. "Is that the one you said you managed to take down without a gun when you were eighteen?"

"And hadn't slept in about forty-eight hours. Not to mention was pretty badly injured."

"I'd prefer not to find out about that first hand," he muttered before heading towards the door. "Have fun tonight, McGeezer."

"McGeezer?" Hermione asked.

"Don't ask. Pointing out that he is older than me is an exercise in futility," Tim sighed, opening the door. "I feel dumb," he muttered, looking over the crisp, formal suit he was wearing.

"You look handsome," she said, reaching out to tie his tie for him.

"I really don't want to go, Hermione," he admitted.

"Why?"

"Because I just… well, she…"

"Because she's going to Hogwarts after the summer and you don't like the idea of your baby girl leaving for school?"

"Eleven is so young, and Hogwarts is all the way in England. When I first started thinking about kids, I thought I'd have until eighteen before I had to let them go away for school. Isn't there somewhere closer?"

"Hogwarts is the best of the best, and I'm sure she'll be in good hands. She wants to go, so she can be with her friends."

"I know. It just seems so soon."

She touched his face, and drew him to her for a kiss. "It'll be alright. And when you get some time off we'll go over there and tour if it'll make you feel better. Until then, Neville and Hagrid promised to keep a close eye on her and keep us updated."

He sighed, wrapping his arms around her for a hug, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair. Things changed over the years, but Hermione's hair always smelled of the shampoo she was faithful to and the potions she used to keep it manageable. The years had been good to Hermione, her body had become curvier after the birth of their daughter, but she was still slender, she had yet to develop a gray hair, and it was only when she widely smiled that her face showed a hint of a wrinkle. She was giving him potions to elongate his life, she expected to live well past 100 and was hoping to keep him around as long as possible, and the potions kept him feeling young even if his hairline wasn't as far down on his forehead as he would have liked.

"It'll be okay," she reassured him. "We'll see her on holidays, and during the summer."

"It doesn't seem like enough," he muttered, and she checked her watch and swore.

"You're going to be even later if you don't get going now," she insisted, pushing him towards the door.

"I'm going, I'm going," he grumbled, heading towards the elevator. "Do you need a ride home?"

"Do I ever?" she said quietly. "I'm enjoying my night off by having dinner with some friends."

"Which ones?" he asked, but he saw Abby and Gibbs had materialized behind her.

"Go!" she commanded, and the elevator doors slid shut.

Twenty minutes later he rushed through the door of the elementary school into their gym. It was done up for the occasion, balloons, colored lights, and carefully done-up tables surrounding a dance floor. His eyes scanned the crowd, and it was easy to find her. She was sitting at a table, Emily and her father sitting with her, waiting for him to arrive. He took a deep breath and went over.

"You're late," she said, looking characteristically like her mother as she crossed her arms.

"Sorry, Minnie," he smiled sheepishly, calling his daughter by her nickname, since she hated being called Minerva in public, and knew Minerva Caitlin McGee only came out when she was in trouble.

"Let me guess, held up at work?" she asked. She was as smart as her mother, and used it to her advantage.

"Always. Do you… would you like to dance?"

"Of course, daddy," she smiled, seemingly forgiving him in that instant as she stood up, the periwinkle blue dress that had once been worn by her mother for the Yule Ball, which had been altered for her by Mrs. Weasley, moved lightly around her as she rushed around the table to take his arm. He led her to the middle of the dance floor, and they started dancing together.

"Are you ready for this?" he asked after a minute. "Ready to go to a new school and all, is what I mean."

"Yeah. I'm so excited to finally be able to go to Hogwarts."

"Aren't you nervous? Your friends are here…"

"I'll have friends there, too. James, and Albus, and…"

"I know," he sighed. "It's just so far away."

She smiled knowingly up at him, then put her feet up on his as she had done years ago when he was first teaching her how to dance, resting her head against him. "Don't worry, Daddy," she whispered. "I'll always know where home is."

He wrapped his arms tightly around her, but not forgetting to dance.