I'd like to thank thekingofsweden1, rpeh and brianna-xox for beta reading. Their work and diligence has improved the story a lot.
Chapter 6: The Investigation
London, Ministry of Magic, August 23rd, 1999, 08.00 hours
"Please have a seat."
Lucius Malfoy nodded at Albert Selwyn. The young wizard sat down obediently. Officially, he was here to give a weekly report from the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office - a division of the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects that was tasked with hunting down dangerous muggle artefacts brought into Wizarding Britain. Unofficially, Albert was here to report about the rather clandestine things he did for Lucius. Such as ensuring that regularly there were dangerous muggle artefacts to hunt down and show the population of Wizarding Britain that associating with anything muggle was unwise. Or doing whatever else Lucius needed to be done, no matter the legality.
"John Dawlish was quite grateful for your handling of that cursed toy car," Lucius said, after glancing over the report. "Apparently, it hurt one of his Aurors severely before you appeared on the scene."
Albert nodded, his expression not changing.
To think a full-fledged Auror had not been able to handle a cursed muggle item! Sometimes Lucius wondered if he had gone too far when he lowered the requirements for becoming an Auror. On the other hand, many pureblood families were happy that prestigious positions, such as Aurors, were now held by the right kind of wizards and witches. And if he hadn't lowered the requirements, then the only Aurors would have been those smart and ambitious enough to study on their own while in Hogwarts - exactly the kind of people Lucius didn't trust among the Aurors.
Albert was ambitious as well, of course, but as an orphan with poor prospects, a family member the rich part of the Selwyn family didn't want to acknowledge, he owed his position to Lucius.
Lucius looked up again. "Good work."
"Thank you, sir."
"What did you find out about the Department of Mysteries's latest scheme?" Rookwood was up to something, Lucius was certain.
"I've been very discreet, sir, so progress has been rather slow. Though I've confirmed that the Department has been in contact with various scholars. Those specialising in the Great War."
Lucius nodded, hiding his reaction to that news. The Great War. Over 150 years ago, when the Magical Ottoman Empire had been pushed out of the Balkans in the bloodiest conflict in magical Europe until Grindelwald's War. There were dozens of stories about forbidden magics and dark artefacts being used in that conflict, laying waste to much of the land that was liberated. A lot of it was made up, of course. Like the tales of genies altering reality itself by granting wishes. But the destruction was real. If Rookwood managed to acquire such artefacts… they would be useful against the Dark Lord, but could Lucius trust his 'ally' not to use them against himself first?
He couldn't, of course. "Find out more about what the Unspeakables are seeking. Question those scholars. But ensure that you're not seen, or remembered." It wouldn't do to tip off the Department of Mysteries.
"Yes, sir."
"Only secure one of those scholars if you can cover it up."
"Yes, sir."
Lucius stared at the other wizard. Was that a hint of resentment? Or just wounded pride? Albert had talent, but Lucius had taken over Wizarding Britain thanks to his cunning, driving both the great Dumbledore and Bellatrix Lestrange out and reforming the entire country! He knew better than to underestimate his enemies!
He smiled, hiding his thoughts, and nodded at the younger wizard. "How is your sister doing? Eager to return to Hogwarts for her second year yet?" A little reminder that more than Albert's career depended on his loyalty to the Minister never hurt.
"She's looking forward to returning to school, sir. She complained I was working too much."
"Ah, Draco was the same at that age. Always asking after me." Lucius smiled widely at Albert, whose own smile looked a bit forced.
The young wizard would remember his place, Lucius knew.
London, Ministry of Magic, August 23rd, 1999, 16.50 hours
Wand-Leader Hermione wondered how she could have fallen so far so quickly. Less than a week ago, she had been a law-abiding Wand. Now she was breaking into the archives of the Ministry - for the second time! And she wasn't after some old minor case files she could access with permission. No, she was after the sealed records of the Obliviators. She told herself again that she needed them, to uncover the full extent of this conspiracy. She needed proof to present to the Minister. The records would provide that.
A Wand did whatever duty required, she told herself. The end justified the means, and she needed to expose those traitors before they did further damage to Britain. The Minister would expect no less of her!
So reassured in the morality of her endeavor, Hermione pulled her invisibility cloak on and left the bathroom she had been in. It would be easier to enter the archives while it was still staffed - there would be no alerts to circumvent. She passed a number of Ministry employees, purebloods of course, already leaving their offices, but it wasn't as bad as it would be past five o'clock, when almost everyone would be heading home. Everyone but those employees working in shifts, the Wands, and those stuck working overtime.
She reached the archives when the shift ended, and had no trouble sneaking in while the employees were leaving. As she had expected, one clerk was still working - Archibald Bradford. Everyone in the Investigative Branch knew that wizard, one of the slowest and least helpful archivists in the Ministry. He was the perfect stooge for her plan.
While the last of Bradford's co-workers left, the young witch sneaked over to a trolley with boxes on it. As Dean had told her at lunch, the Aurors had just wrapped up a case involving counterfeit potions he had originally discovered. That meant the confiscated potions would be sent to the archives.
She spotted a box marked 'potions', and grinned. No one would suspect something afoul if a counterfeit potion turned out to be unstable. Glancing back, she saw that Bradford was fetching some tea for himself, obviously planning to stay some time still. A flick of her wand opened the box, and she saw that Dean had been correct - mostly medical potions that were far less effective than advertised. Someone had been hoping to scam a population scared by the ongoing attacks. She pulled out a vial from her pocket, unstoppered it and dropped a sliver of Erumpent horn in. The vial was already trembling when she levitated it into the box, and she hurried to take cover near the entrance to the sealed part of the archives.
A minute later, the box exploded, splattering fluid all over the floor and the shelves nearby. The clerk's scream was drowned out by the deafening alert that the explosion had triggered. While the wizard was staring at the remains of the trolley and the mess caused by the explosion, Hermione opened the door to the sealed part with a spell she had learned from those books she wasn't supposed to own. Entering that section would usually trigger the alert as well, but it was already sounding.
She was barely inside when the alert cut off and she heard a shout: "Nobody move!" She frowned - she had hoped Seamus would be on patrol already. He was a Wand from her own year, and he'd likely have his team search the entire archives. It would be difficult, though not impossible, to evade his notice, though if all went according to plan, she wouldn't have to do so for long, and she had an excuse ready in case she was discovered.
"What's going on here? Bradford!"
Ah, Dawlish had arrived, as expected. Probably at the head of a gaggle of Aurors who had been running late. The man was stupid, but no one accused him of being a coward, and Hermione knew he'd rush to the archives as soon as he heard the alert.
"We heard the alert, and responded at once," Seamus said.
As usual, Dawlish took the fact that the Wands had beaten the Aurors as an insult. "We're handling this, since Auror files were affected!" Hermione had seen him blustering so often, she could imagine his expression perfectly without seeing him.
"Head Auror, we're just here to help."
"We don't need your help. This is an investigation, not some battle. Go and polish your wand or whatever, and leave this scene before you mess it further up!"
Seamus controlled his temper, but Hermione heard the tension in his voice while he ordered his team out. She felt slightly guilty for setting her fellow Wands up for this kind of verbal abuse, but needs must. They'd get even next time they handled a real case.
While Dawlish investigated - or rather, she thought cynically, tried to make sure the Aurors wouldn't be blamed for this incident - Hermione went to the Obliviator files. She grabbed the most recently archived files including the muggleborn recovery she had observed and copied them. Two dozen cases stretching back a month should be enough to spot some discrepancies, especially once she could compare them to testimonies and interrogation results.
Then she hesitated. She shouldn't. It was unprofessional. But she needed to know. She sifted through the cases archived sixteen years ago, until she found the one marked 'Hermione Granger'. Granger… she had a name. She licked her lips, then took a deep breath, and pulled the file out.
London, Ministry of Magic, August 23rd, 1999, 22.40 hours
Wand-Leader Hermione had had to wait an hour before Dawlish had been satisfied that Bradford would take the blame for the explosion, instead of the Aurors who had packed the potions, and left the premises again. The Aurors could work really fast and efficiently if they needed to protect themselves. She had sneaked out afterwards, and gone back to her quarters. And she had read the files she had copied. Hers, Dean's, Colin's and Sally-Anne's. And the more recent ones.
None of them showed anything out of the ordinary. But they all looked far too much like the one from Watford for a skilled investigator like her to trust those records. Even though the idea that this conspiracy went back for almost two decades was … should be unthinkable. But she was trained to never assume when she could know. And she would know the truth.
She had the names of those Obliviators who had recovered her from her parents, supposedly saving her from abuse. They were no longer with the Obliviators, but she'd track them down, interrogate them, and find out what had happened to her, and her family. And to her friends and their families.
It wouldn't be easy, though. Far from it. She couldn't get help from her team, couldn't even tell them about this - they were not trained in Occlumency. She'd have to do it alone. At least she had a supply of Veritaserum no one would miss a few drops of.
She thought, briefly, about Antoine, then discarded the idea. He was a foreigner, a civilian, and even if she could trust him - or obliviate him afterwards - this was too dangerous to involve him.
But first, she had to find the addresses of the people she needed to interrogate. Actually planning how to … secure them would follow later.
Northern Cornwall, United Kingdom, August 24th, 1999, 12.40 hours
Ron Weasley studied the cottage on the cliff through the binoculars. He was hidden under an invisibility cloak despite the distance to the small building. Better safe than sorry, he thought - it wouldn't do to underestimate the Dark Lord. He pulled out two cameras and took pictures, both muggle and magical ones. Another camera would provide surveillance in his absence, so they could track the Death Eaters coming and going.
The cottage didn't look like a Dark Lord's hideout. It was small, probably two rooms and a kitchen, and looked old and in need of maintenance. Appearances could and would be deceptive, of course. Extension Charms could hide a palace in that house, and spells could take care of a leaking roof without being visible. If this was a safe house from the old war, it would be well-prepared too.
He studied the possible entrances. The windows were small, the door looked sturdy. Probably easier to blow a hole in a wall or two. There would almost certainly be a big basement with a dungeon and a tunnel or two for emergencies, from what Ron knew of the safe houses of the Death Eaters the Order had raided in the last war.
And there would be traps and wards and other defenses. Ron shuddered, remembering Sirius's story about a house where the furniture had turned out to be a bunch of transfigured snakes, with curses on them so a Finite would end both the curse and the transfiguration. Sirius hadn't thought that particularly nasty or cunning, but the wizard's views had been clearly warped by growing up in the ancestral home of the Black family, Ron thought. The ideas his brothers had had for traps after talking to that man… the young wizard shuddered again.
He took another look at the cottage. He'd not try to go in the building, he'd try to destroy it from outside. It was not close enough to the edge of the cliff to send it falling down with magic or explosives, but a bit of Fiendfyre would certainly do a number on the building. If timed correctly, it'd alert the Ministry too, and the escaping Death Eaters would be facing the Ministry's forces. Both Voldemort and Malfoy would be weakened as a result.
But Hermione would be among those too. Probably. Likely. The witch would arrive with the other Wands, facing the Dark Lord's worst. And while she was good, he didn't think she would fare well against Voldemort himself.
He ground his teeth. It was a good plan, and yet he was loathe to suggest it to the Order. Was he turning traitor for a pretty witch? She was not really the enemy, though. Or shouldn't be. As a muggleborn, she should be attacking, not defending Malfoy. But if he tried telling her that, she'd attack him. Her loyalty towards Malfoy was unquestionable.
He told himself it didn't matter anyway. Even if he didn't mention his thoughts, his brothers would think of a similar plan. Or something worse.
Ron shook his head. There had to be a way to save her. But short of capturing her and keeping her as a prisoner until it was over, he couldn't think of one. And if he did that, he'd be a suspect: too many had to know of them. Their meetings. Not that it would be easy in the first place anyway. Maybe he should ask his brothers for help. They'd tease him even worse, but if it saved her life...
London, Ministry of Magic, August 24th, 1999, 18.30 hours
Wand-Leader Hermione was sitting with her team in their office, picking at the meal Colin as the youngest had brought from Diagon Alley.
"Is something wrong with the chips?" the Wand asked.
She looked up at him, then shook her head. "No, I'm just not that hungry." She saw Colin exchange a glance with Dean, and almost frowned. Before Dean could say anything, she spoke up again: "I'm not stressing out like before the O.W.L.s."
Dean didn't look that convinced. "Something is eating you though."
Hermione rolled her eyes at the pun, but couldn't deny it. The investigation into the Obliviators was occupying her mind far more than a normal investigation. It was personal. Very personal. She couldn't share her concerns with her friends though; even if she found a way to convince them to learn Occlumency, breaking the law in the process, they'd take far too long to master it. She couldn't keep Dean from worrying though; she had learned that lesson back in 1996. Sighing, she decided to be a bit economical with the truth: "I'm just concerned about what our suspects are up to, in the muggle world."
Dean nodded. "It's not as if we can observe them there without official permission, and we can't get official permission without something more solid than expensive robes."
Hermione nodded. "And despite observing them closely, we haven't found anything that would hold up in court. We haven't even enough evidence for a 'reasonable suspicion' of criminal activity."
"They're guilty though! Of something!" Colin said. "We know it."
Hermione frowned at Colin, and the excited kid ducked his head, blushing.
Dean chuckled, then grew serious again. "I take it your research into precedents and procedures, which has taken so long, hasn't produced anything helpful then?" His tone was light, but his expression said something else. He knew, or at least suspected she hadn't just done research.
She picked up a chip, cold now, and dunked it in the mushy peas before eating it, to win some time. "I found nothing that I could present to the boss."
"Did you find anything we could use to dig further?" Dean asked. He definitely knew then what she had been up to. Of course, he knew her very well.
"Nothing concrete yet. Promising, maybe, but I need to do a bit more research. Boring stuff, you know." Hermione sighed, a bit theatrically.
"If you need help, I'm available. Even off the clock," Dean said.
She wanted to tell him. Kidnapping a retired Obliviator would be far easier with his help. But if anyone read his mind… "As soon as I have something solid, I'll tell you."
"And me!" Colin said.
"Of course," Dean said. The kid happily nodded, unaware that neither Dean nor Hermione would let him join them should they do some extra-legal investigation. Not that she would let Dean join her either, but...
"Do you ever wonder how things are, in the muggle world?" Hermione asked as casually as she could manage.
"Oh, yes!" Colin said. "Ever since I saw that confiscated muggle camera! It was so different, so small!"
And that was why they'd never take Colin with them, Hermione thought.
"Sometimes," Dean said. "You too?"
Hermione nodded. "Sometimes." She wanted to hint at her doubts, her suspicions, but didn't. Once she had enough proof though, once she had the Minister's permission to investigate further, she'd inform her team. And they'd know.
Everything. Including their names.
London, Diagon Alley, August 25th, 1999, 22.15 hours
Ron Weasley, wandering through the less reputable sections of Diagon Alley, felt the communication mirror in his pocket vibrate. He pulled it out and faked checking his appearance. Percy was calling.
"Someone's been in my room."
His brother's message was but a whisper, but the communication mirror transmitted his voice loud and clear, protected by a privacy spell against eavesdroppers - the twins had improved on Sirius's design. The wizard concealed the mirror in the palm of his hand and asked: "Did they take anything?"
"None of the gold I had left there was taken. But they went through my notes." Probably copied then.
That meant it wasn't a thief, but a spy. "Who do you think sent him?"
"I can't say for certain," Percy answered. "It could be the Department of Mysteries, checking on my trustworthiness, or the Minister's faction, or even the Dark Lord - he has spies in the Ministry, and they might have noticed my visits. But it clearly means someone's suspecting me."
"If they just wanted your notes they'll not return," Ron said.
"But if they do return we can trap them." Percy said, knowing what Ron meant. The twins' gadgets that had detected the spy's entry could also be used to trigger a trap. They would have to be both quick and careful to avoid breaking Percy's cover though.
"Yes." Ron would have to be ready to apparate to his brother's room at a moment's notice. And he'd need a very good excuse if that happened during a rendezvous with Hermione. James Bond never had to deal with that, he thought.
London, Ministry of Magic, August 26th, 1999, 18.00 hours
"What do you want for dinner?" Colin asked, parchment and quill in hand. Ever since he once had mixed up an order, he had been taking notes. Hermione might have overreacted a bit, but in her defense, she hadn't been able to eat lunch that day.
"Fish and Chips," Dean said, not looking up from the parchment he was reading.
"Nothing for me, I've got a dinner date in 30 minutes," Hermione said.
"Ah, Luna?" Dean asked. The blonde witch had shot down his advances during his sixth year at Hogwarts, but he still showed quite an interest in her, Hermione knew that from his regular questions if her friend had taken a boyfriend yet.
"No," Hermione said, somewhat distracted since she was checking the ward licenses issued in the last twenty years to see if she could find the addresses of Keagan Banks and Ottokar Merriweather, the retired obliviators she was hunting.
"No?" both members of her team said together, and with obvious surprise.
Hermione looked up, frowning when she saw both Colin and Dean stare at her. "What?"
"Who are you meeting?" Dean met her eyes, while Colin at least had the grace to blush and look away.
Hermione briefly debated telling him that it was none of his business, but decided against it. She was already keeping too much from them, and these days, knowing what your partners were up to was important. "I'm meeting Antoine Dupont. A tourist from Québec."
Dean blinked. "That's the guy from the attack on Diagon Alley. You've been seeing him?"
She narrowed her eyes at her friend. "Yes." It wasn't as if she was as nosy about Dean's affairs. Granted, he tended to tell her and Colin everything about his paramours without being asked, but still.
"Ah." Dean's smile looked forced, not teasing, so her glare had been effective.
Colin had beaten a hasty retreat under the cover of fetching his and Dean's dinner, and the office was silent for a few minutes as she and Dean returned to their reading.
"He's a pureblood," her friend said suddenly.
Hermione sighed and put the records down. "Yes. From the Americas. They're different."
Dean didn't look convinced. She couldn't really blame him - both of them had had their experiences with purebloods at Hogwarts. She forced herself to smile confidently. "He's a foreigner. If he turns out to be not so different, I can hex him without getting into trouble."
Dean chuckled. "True that." He quickly grew serious again though. "But if he's a tourist, how long will he be staying?"
"He's looking to immigrate to France or Britain," Hermione said. She didn't say that he was also looking to have a family. That would have led to more awkward questions she didn't want to think about, much less answer. Besides, there wasn't anything to worry about anyway. It wasn't as if they were in a relationship.
"That sounds serious," Dean said, with a hint of teasing.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "We're just meeting for dinner, and talk. It's not as if we're about to break a bed or something else by trying to perform something from an illegal copy of confiscated contraband."
That had Dean both blush and wince, and Hermione could study her files in peace until Colin arrived, at which point it was time for her to leave anyway.
London, Diagon Alley, August 26th, 1999, 18.45 hours
Ron Weasley stepped into 'Connington's' right on time, and spotted Hermione already waiting at what seemed to be her usual table in the back. He walked over to her with a smile and greeted her.
"You're looking very pretty." The young witch had, as he noticed when he greeted her, put on some makeup and done her hair. It was a far cry from what the girls at Beauxbatons did just to attend lessons, and she was wearing her usual robes, but for the serious girl he had started to get to know, it seemed like quite a step. And for Ron not to notice and compliment her, would have been a rather big misstep.
"Thank you. You're looking sharp as well," Hermione said, with what he thought was the hint of a blush. Or just a trick of the light. Her smile seemed genuine though, and he once again felt a pang of guilt for deceiving her.
They ordered - Ron picked a dish he wasn't familiar with, having been spoiled for most of the food he knew by his mum's cooking - and for a moment, neither said anything. Ron cleared his throat, and asked: "So, how was your day?" It was a bad line, but it was all he could think of right there. Somehow, most of his lines seemed inappropriate.
"I've read files and records all day," Hermione said.
"Boring then?" He asked, with a grin.
She pursed her lips. "It wasn't boring." She sounded a bit defensive though.
"You'd rather be out and about, doing something though?" he guessed. He had hated the paperwork in the Gendarmerie Magique himself. It was part of the reason - though a small one - that he had volunteered for this mission. Which he had to keep a secret from Hermione.
"Yes." She nodded, almost forcefully. "How was your day?"
"I mostly spent it in my room, resting." And preparing to apparate to Percy's room and tangle with the burglar or spy. And writing reports, but he couldn't tell her that. He smiled at her. "I feel bad now about lazing around while you were working."
She made a dismissive gesture. "Speaking of work… what kind of work are you looking for?"
He took a sip from his wine to gain time. His cover had been created with an eye towards infiltrating the local underworld as a wand for hire. That wasn't something he wanted to tell the girl though. She'd be disappointed in him. "I'm not exactly certain, to be honest. I'd think I could be a good Hit-Wizard, or maybe an Auror. If they hire foreigners." That was true, even.
"Ah." She nodded. "We haven't any Hit-Wizards anymore. The Wands have taken over their duties. Though you'd certainly be a better Auror than just about everyone else currently in that department."
That sounded bitter. "Oh? That sounds like you have had a lot of trouble with them."
She snorted. "Well, you've seen them in action, haven't you?"
"Oh, yes. I thought those were recruits stuck with the bad shifts or something," he lied.
"If only!" She frowned. "But I shouldn't talk about that."
"Well… what are the requirements to hire on as an Auror?"
Hermione smiled, and for a moment, she seemed younger, and less cynical. "Oh, they are rather easy. You need decent passing grades in your N.E.W.T.s or the international equivalents in Defense, Potions …"
While the witch listed all the requirements a wizard had to fulfill to become an Auror - the standards did seem far lower than those of the Gendarmerie - and often added some commentary about Hogwarts teachers or other trivia, Ron tried not to feel too guilty about exploiting her eagerness to help him. Or about his plans to capture her to keep her safe.
London, Diagon Alley, August 26th, 1999, 23.37 hours
Time had flown, Hermione thought, when she checked her watch right outside 'Connington's'. Talking with Antoine, the hours had passed like the wind… she blinked. She was now thinking like some character in a Robe-ripper novel, and not like the Wand-Leader she was.
And yet even after a brief analysis as a member of the Investigative Branch, she had to admit that talking, spending time with Antoine had been very enjoyable. So enjoyable that she was loath to have it end now, despite the late hour, and her plans for the next day. And, judging by the way Antoine was hesitating to say his goodbyes, the usually suave Qébecois didn't want to part yet either. Well, Wands didn't hesitate. They attacked!
"I really enjoyed the evening," Hermione said. "It was a lovely date." There. Now the quaffle was in his possession. He could drop or sink it. He hadn't seemed to mind her tendency to lecture, as her friends called it, so she was hoping that...
Antoine didn't drop it. He nodded and smiled. "Yes, it was. Time just flew. We should go dancing next." He didn't question if there would be a next date. He had no reason to, of course. They had had a very good time.
She held her breath when he stepped closer. Now she felt like the heroine in a Robe-ripper. She was suddenly warm, hot, watching him reach out to her, parting her own arms… then he was pulling her into his arms, muscular ones, she noticed, and their lips met.
She wasn't a blushing virgin, of course. Wands rarely were at the time of graduation, with all their lives spent in the company of other Wands, and no families to care about, or for them. But this kiss was not like those 'experiments' with Dean, after the celebration of their O.W.L.s. She felt… she wanted him. Not out of curiosity, not to find out how it felt, not because she was drunk, she simply wanted him.
When they broke the kiss she was panting, and her hands pulled back from where they had been grabbing his hair and slipping under his robe's collar. For a moment she wished both of them had been wearing muggle clothes. Meeting his gaze, seeing him breath heavily, she was certain he was wishing the same thing.
They kissed again, embracing each other even tighter this time. She didn't care that they were in public; others would know better than to jeer at Wands. All she cared about right now was Antoine. Damn it, those novels she very much had not read had been correct: She really wanted him to push her down and have his way with her right here. Or push him down.
Their second kiss ended, and they stared at each other, still embracing. Antoine wet his lips, and said: "If we don't stop now, I think we'll end up in the next available room."
She felt him tense, starting to push her back, and held on tighter. "Your room's closer." Not to mention that while it wasn't exactly forbidden to others, only Wands and Luna ever entered the quarters of the Corps. She saw his eyes widen, and nodded. He still seemed to hesitate, so she offered a reason he would understand, with his past: "We're at war. I could die tomorrow."
He nodded at that, as she had expected he would. It wasn't why she wanted this, and she thought he knew it as well, but it was a good enough excuse to lay any remaining doubts and guilt to rest.
He apparated the two of them straight to his room. Their robes hit the floor without either saying another word. They could talk later. Much later.
London, Diagon Alley, August 27th, 1999, 07.08 hours
Ron Weasley woke up when he heard spells being cast, and had his wand in hand and pointed at the other person in his room before he remembered where he was, and with whom.
"You're quick to draw," Hermione said, though her wand was pointed at him, and her tone belied her casual words. She was already dressed, he noticed, and her hair looked tamed.
Ron lowered his wand, calming down. "I'm sorry, old reflexes."
She drew in a hissing breath, then nodded. "I forgot." From the way she bit her lower lip, she seemed to blame herself for forgetting about the war he had supposedly fought in.
Instead of apologising, he asked: "What time is it?" The sun was up, but it was still 'too damn early', as he would have said at home - especially on the weekend. And as he had said often, back when his mum had taken care to wake him up early after a night spent in Paris.
"Nine minutes past seven. I'm late already."
Ron blinked. Of course she'd have work, it was Friday. But… "Let me guess: 'Wands don't have weekends'?"
She frowned at him, but he thought she found it at least a bit funny. "We do have time off regularly, to rest and recover. But our shifts are arranged so every day is covered, of course."
He nodded. Of course. Malfoy wouldn't want to present his enemies with days when half his guard was off-duty - even though, or so Ron thought, the vast majority of them would still be ready to fight at a moment's notice. Once again, he felt guilty about abusing the witch's trust like this as he committed this new information to his memory.
She opened her mouth, but didn't say anything for a second. "Do you… regret it?" She inclined her head a tiny bit towards the bed. For a moment she looked far more vulnerable than he had ever seen her.
He did, but not for the reasons she would think of, and so he shook his head. "No, no! Never! I just feel guilty for being on a vacation, while you have to work. And fight a war." His excuse came easily to him. He stood up, heedless of his lack of clothes, and walked over to her. Hermione looked surprised, and - although that might have just been his vanity speaking - slightly distracted before he pulled her into his arms. He silently cast a Breath Refreshing Charm with his wand behind her back, then kissed her properly.
She was smiling when the kiss ended. "I really have to go…" She glanced at the bed again, but he didn't think she'd delay her work for another round. Unlike other girls he had known. And he didn't want to tempt her. More, at least.
"When does your shift end?" he asked without thinking. It was Friday, but that spy was still out there. And tomorrow, Dumbledore would be arriving. Harry probably as well.
"I don't know, I have an open case… I'll send you a note?"
The way she turned the sentence into a question made him wonder just what kind of lovers she had had before. Hermione hadn't been a virgin, or inexperienced, and she had taken the initiative last night, but… he couldn't help feeling that she had been surprised by the experience. Pleasantly surprised. And he was honest enough to admit that while he hadn't had any complaints - apart from that salope Maribel, who had done that to get back at him for an earlier slight so it didn't count - he wasn't exactly Don Juan.
"I'll be waiting, and looking for a nice club to dance in," he said.
She smiled, then frowned at his words. "I can't really dance," Hermione answered.
"I'll teach you, don't worry."
London, Diagon Alley, August 27th, 1999, 11.55 hours
"You look distracted. You never look distracted."
Wand-Leader Hermione looked up from the menu she had been staring at for the last minute. Her friend Luna was staring at her with narrowed eyes. "Err…" She had been distracted. All morning, until Luna had contacted her - using an owl since they weren't at Hogwarts anymore. The muggleborn witch hadn't made as much progress on her investigation as she had been counting on either. Granted, she also had slept less than she normally did.
"What happened?" Luna leaned forward, the tip of her tongue wetting her lips in anticipation. There was no stalling the blonde when she was in that mood, Hermione knew from experience.
So she didn't. "I had a date with Antoine. I spent the night." There, everything told.
Luna's squeal would have made everyone in the pub turn towards them, if not for Hermione's privacy spell. The pureblood witch currently hugging the breath out of Hermione wouldn't have cared anyway. "How was it? How was he?"
The flustered Wand-Leader revealed far more details about last night's events than she had wanted and reassured Luna that she didn't think it was just a one-night stand - and where Luna had heard that term, she didn't want to know - while they ordered and ate.
Though when dessert - for Luna, Hermione didn't feel like indulging - arrived, the blonde grew serious. "What will you do when Draco asks for you again?" Luna managed to cover 'Draco' with enough contempt for an entire thirty-inches essay, and add enough not-so-hidden meanings to 'ask' to make Hermione fear her friend was about to storm off and hex the Minister's son.
It was a good, if disturbing question though. "I'm certain he'll not bother a witch with a steady boyfriend."
Luna scoffed. "If you believed that, then you'd never have been made Wand-Leader in the Investigative Branch."
Hermione sighed. "I'm certain the Minister will help, if I ask?" She didn't like how she turned that into a question.
Luna shook her head. "You'll have to marry to be safe. Though even that might not be enough to make Draco behave like a decent wizard."
"Marry?" Hermione stared at her friend. Marriage between a Wand and a pureblood… it wasn't explicitly illegal, but it wasn't done. She didn't remember any Wand who had married at all, so far. Wands were married to Britain, one of their instructors had once said.
"Well… we could also transfigure Draco into a tuna sandwich and use him as Snorkack bait."
"Luna!" There were things one didn't joke about, and assassination was one of those things!
"You're right - that might give the poor dears indigestion," her friend said in an earnest tone.
Hermione snorted despite herself, and changed the topic to The Quibbler's latest article about mythical animals before her friend plotted even worse treason, but she couldn't forget about the other witch's question. What would she do about Draco?
Beauxbatons, France, August 28th, 1999, 14.17 hours
Albus Dumbledore studied the latest message from Severus once more. The Dark Lord was preparing to further weaken Lucius's hold on Britain by striking at the Minister's allies, and Lucius had decided he would sacrifice the Greengrass family. He had known that for some time. But now he knew that they'd be attacked today.
They weren't exactly innocent, of course. The Greengrasses were among those who had profited from Lucius's regime the most, with monopolies added to their already considerable fortune. Their eldest daughter was Lucius's personal secretary, even. But they hadn't been Death Eaters, and as far as Albus knew, they hadn't supported the Dark Lord until after he had won. They hadn't supported the Ministry either, though.
Try as he might, Albus saw no way to save the family without endangering Severus's cover and with it the man's life and the whole war. With Tom and Lucius expecting the attack to succeed, it had to succeed or Severus would be suspected as a traitor.
The old wizard sighed. As distasteful as it was, sacrifices had to be made. In this case, the Greengrass family.