Kingsley Shacklebolt was woken by his wife far earlier than he would have liked given the excellence of Tom's red wine the night before. "Kingsley. You need to wake up love. There are three of your officers downstairs. Whatever it is - it's important..."

Five minutes later Kingsley - dressed in a rather startling brocade dressing gown, came downstairs to his kitchen, where Cornelius Swift, one of the senior Aurors on duty that day was drinking tea, in the company of two other officers.

"Sorry to disturb you at this hour Minister, but we have trouble."

Kingsley took a mug of coffee from his wife with a smile of thanks. "What is it Swift."

"We got a message from Diagon Alley early this morning. Atticus Jones had his throat cut last night - not far from the back door of The Cauldron..."

ooo0ooo

Natasha Romanoff gasped as she hit the floor with a bone shaking thump. She had been sparring with Sif for the past half an hour or so and shit she was good. Natasha was one of the very best that SHIELD and the KGB had to offer but it seemed that by Asgardian standards she was a novice.

"You're very good for a mortal you know. Don't forget I have had nearly a thousand years of training over you." Sif extended a hand to pull her up from the floor. "Are you up for another bout?"

Natasha winced, and shook her head, smiling. "No thank you. I know when I'm beaten. I have a hot date with the big tub in my ensuite. Clasping the arm of the other woman she tried to walk away without looking as though she'd just been run over by a tank.

"You look as though you did as well as I did." She turned to see Steve Rogers limping towards her, a spectacular bruise already fading from over his left eye.

"Ouch! I thought I was good, but these guys make me look like a girl scout."

Steve smiled shyly, "The Other Guy couldn't make you look like a girl scout Natasha"

She looked sideways at him. "That's subtle Cap - Tony Stark subtle." She sat gratefully on the low wall of a fountain, dangling her fingers in the cool water, enjoying the golden early evening sunshine. "You know there's nothing going on with Bruce and me..."

Rogers raised his eyebrows. "Okay, but the – atmosphere between you the other day…?"

She sighed. "I like him – you know. He's smart and sweet and kind, but – he doesn't want me."

Steve looked at the beautiful, lethal woman beside him. "Any guy with a pulse would want you Natasha. What's his beef?" The colour flooded his face. "Oh – he isn't err…."

She chuckled. "No, he's not into guys Steve. It's the Other Guy that's the problem. He says he's too dangerous, he's too damaged." She laughed bitterly. "With my history, it's the monster inside him that's the problem"

"Excuse me Sir, My Lady." They looked up to see a palace servant standing nervously in front of them. "The Allfather requests that you attend him in his office at your earliest convenience."

Steve nodded. "Thank you. Can you please inform Tho.. the King that we need to change, then we'll be right with him."

He turned and hauled Natasha to her feet emotional traumas put aside for another day. "Avengers Assemble! Duty calls…"

ooo0ooo

Mundungus Fletcher, Hermione thought, had dealt remarkably well with the Bifrost under the circumstances. Certainly he had held onto her rather tighter than she would have liked, but her main concern, that the explosive force which had killed Mrs Figg, would blast them all out of the Bifrost and into the Void, appeared to have been unfounded. Nonetheless, the look on his face when confronted with Heimdall and Asgard was a picture.

Several hours later, Fletcher had been safely ensconced in one of the more secure bedchambers in the palace, with guards on the door, and Harry, Hermione and Loki were able to relax and get cleaned up and changed. Once they reassembled their first stop was to see Thor. Loki knocked and entered his brother's study, only to stop abruptly in his tracks.

Thor, Sif and The Warriors Three were seated in their usual places at the conference table.

Opposite them, Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff leapt to their feet reaching for their weapons...

Behind him Harry and Hermione's wands were out, levelled at the two Avengers.

For long moments, no-one moved. Then Thor slammed his hand down on the desk, eyes blazing.

"ENOUGH!"

Wands and guns were slowly lowered, but the atmosphere in the room crackled with tension.

The Warriors Three watched with amused interest. Sif's eyes, Hermione noticed, were on Harry, her expression unreadable.

Thor turned to Rogers. "Captain. Stand down. NOW. Brother, Harry, Hermione, you too. We are all on the same side. If the Nine Realms are plunged back into eternal darkness, it matters not who has injured whom in the past.

Harry, Hermione. You have met Steve Rogers, otherwise known as Captain America, and Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow. Natasha, Steve, this is my sister in law the Princess Hermione, and this is a great friend of this family and of Asgard, the Midgardian Wizard Harry Potter."

Steve stepped forward, hand extended to Loki first. "My apologies My Lord. You caught us unawares."

Even Loki could find no deceit in Steve Rogers – the man was crystal clear. Eyes guarded, he shook the Captain's hand. Rogers turned to Hermione. "Princess Hermione, Mr Potter, it's a pleasure to meet you both again, we spoke briefly at Thor's wedding as I recall. I wasn't aware that there were native born witches and wizards on Earth until Thor gave us a sit rep."

Harry and Hermione's expressions gave little away. While Captain America was the poster boy for honesty and decency the habit of secrecy had been instilled into them early in life, and this incident had already exposed more of their world than they were comfortable with . Looking past his shoulder, Hermione noticed that the beautiful Russian was holding back, watching Loki with cautious eyes. She remembered that Romanoff was close to Barton, one of those that, along with Loki, had been brainwashed by the staff. It appeared that she would not be forgiving and forgetting anytime soon...

The formalities over, Thor sent a servant to Frigga to request her attendance. There was no need to tell the same story more than once. In the meantime Thor told the three newcomers that Jane was still in New York with Eric, Bruce and Tony Stark, although Stark could be summoned by Heimdall at a moment's notice should the need arise. A few moments later Frigga arrived, greeting Harry warmly, for he had been away from Asgard for some months, and she had missed him as she would any member of her expanding extended family. Hugging Loki and Hermione, she joined them around the table to listen to their update on the current situation.

When they had finished, there was a moment's silence. Rogers smiled. "Good work, if there is the slightest chance that this Jones guy is in Malekith's pocket, carrying out the extraction covertly was a good call. What happens next?"

Loki had been a little confused by Steve's 20th century military terminology, but now he picked up the conversation once more. "If, as we suspect, Malekith is behind all of this, we have to assume that he will eventually track the Aether to its last location on Midgard, after which it will vanish without trace. He will be able to sense the Aether - it will have awoken him when released from the casket - but he will not be able to track it precisely here. Nonetheless, it will not take long for him to deduce where it has gone. Asgard will be the first place he looks."

Concern was written across Frigga's face. "Is it wise to bring this to our Realm? To bring this danger to our people – with your infant sons sleeping within these walls Thor?"

Hermione took her hand. "Frigga, I will say no more at the moment, not because I don't trust anyone in this room, but because the fewer people know a secret the better as I'm sure Mr Rogers and Ms Romanoff would agree. Trust me that contingency plans for the protection of the boys, Jane and Dr Selvig if they are here, are already in place.

No, the problem, as I see it, is more serious. We cannot remove the Aether from Mundungus ourselves, and even if we do, it will not stop Malekith coming for it"

"There is only one answer to the problem" cut in Loki. "We must allow Malekith to take Fletcher."

Amid the storm of protest, even Harry and Hermione looked at him in horror. Thor's voice called for silence. "Brother, you cannot be serious. We cannot allow a force of this strength to fall into the hands of one of our greatest enemies."

Loki shrugged. "We allow Malekith to take possession of Fletcher and the Aether. As the Convergence approaches he will draw the Aether from Fletcher, to take it himself. At that point, we strike, it is the only way. The alternative that he attacks Asgard and takes it from us"

Fandrall spoke up for the first time. "If Malakith attacks, we are capable of defending ourselves."

Loki shook his head. "Do not make the mistake of underestimating our enemy. He has waited five thousand years for this opportunity, he will not be prepared to wait another. He will attack again and again until he has the Aether, and will have no compunction about taking every drop of Asgardian blood in the process."

Sif glared at him. "If that is what it takes…."

Loki was out of his seat leaning across the table, eyes flashing. "Then tell me Lady Sif, how are we better than the Dark Elves…?"

Thor interrupted, calling them both to order, shaking his head. "There must be another way brother. It is late, and you three must be tired, you had little sleep last night, and the time difference between Midgard and Asgard will not help. Eat, rest, we will meet again tomorrow morning to discuss this further." He rose, their dismissal clearly implied. Without a word, or a look, even to Hermione, Loki stalked from the room.

Once the others had gone, Frigga and Thor looked to Hermione in concern. She shook her head. "He sees things almost too clearly. He is the greatest chess player I have ever met, and in his mind he has already played this game. Options and possibilities have been tried and played out. Alternatives considered and discarded. His idea may be risky, may go against every instinct, but it is not a proposal that he has made lightly."

Thor shook his head. "The risk is too great. There has to be another way..."

Hermione's shoulders drooped. Frigga looked at her with concern. "Are you alright Hermione?"

Her daughter in law shrugged. "I'm sorry, I am tired, and have been a little under the weather for a few days that is all. A meal, and a night's sleep should set me to rights." She smiled. "It will be good to be back in my own bed again. Providing that is I can lure my husband from wherever he is pacing and thinking."

Frigga hugged her affectionately. "I will send some food up to your chambers my dear. Should I do the same for Harry?"

Thor smiled. "I suspect he will be dining elsewhere tonight Mother". Hermione and Frigga looked at him curiously, but for once his handsome open face was bland and un-revealing. "Goodnight to you both. I will take the Bifrost briefly down to Midgard to check on the progress being made at Stark Tower, but I will return to sleep here tonight." He smiled, but even he looked weary. "If I am very fortunate I may even prevail upon my wife to return with me. It has been several days now, and I confess that the boys and I miss her."

When Hermione returned to their chambers however, there was no sign of Loki. She sighed and sank into one of the comfortable chairs by the fire, leaning her head against its carved wooden back, closing her eyes. She would just rest for a moment, before going to find Loki. Just for a moment...

It was some hours later that Loki finally returned. He had been up on the Observatory, pacing, thinking, plotting. Thor had been right, he thought ruefully. He was tired and hungry, his body was cold and sore from the icy wind which always prevailed on the Observatory, and from too little sleep. He was becoming soft. The thought of a little food, a warm bed and Hermione was now all that filled his mind. Closing the door of their chambers, he smiled, shaking his head.

Hermione was curled up in the big cushioned wooden chair by the fire, still in her Midgardian clothes. A tray of bread, cheese and fruit lay untouched on the side. The room was warm, but starting to cool as the fire died.

He stood for a moment, watching his sleeping wife, his eyes warm and fond. She had looked just like this, he thought, in his earliest memories of her, when he had been wounded and wracked with nightmares, traumatised by the horrors he had recently experienced. She had slept for weeks in a large chair by the bed, watching over him like a guardian angel, and many times he had woken in the night, seen her there, and been comforted.

Moving silently to her, he brushed the hair back from her face, but she was deeply asleep, and showed no inclination to wake. It took only a small use of his magic to change her into her nightclothes, before he scooped her up into his arms - she snuggled against him instinctively, arms wrapped around him, her face against his neck – he smiled, reflecting that there had been a time when no woman would have been so warm and trusting with him. As he tucked her into their bed he thought that in spite of everything that he had had to go through to find her, he would change nothing for she was worth it all and more.