A/N: So I'm not saying I'll always post this fast, but I want to get the story moving to have your opinion on it and feedback has been amazing so far :)

Steve got home first that day. He worried the darker it got out. Maybe he should have offered to pick her up, but he didn't want to seem too clingy. Besides, it could simply mean her job interview had gone well. Why not? She was obviously very smart and capable. Still, he was relieved when she finally opened the door, looking happy and sheepish as she held a large brown parcel in her hands.

"Let me guess," he said before she could speak. "You got hired, had your nose in dusty parchments all day, and brought the largest nightgown you could find to celebrate."

She laughed and swatted him playfully, then walked passed him to drop her parcel on the table. It made a soft sound so he was sure he was right about it being clothes.

"I did get hired, I did not see a single rune or hieroglyph today, and if that's a nightgown, it's got to be the most uncomfortable one in existence. Care to guess again? One out of three isn't so bad."

"No. I'll get dinner started and you tell me all about it."

She did get the job as it turned out, but spent all day there, not to start her work on translations, but to be vetted by her employer, which was none other than the US army. Apparently, they had done a background check on him too, since she lived with him, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. Hermione for her part wasn't sure how to feel about the job offer.

"I'm not supposed to be here. What if I muck everything up? Change history? Maybe change it so badly, I erase myself or create a paradox?"

"But what if this is exactly the place you're supposed to be? You said so yourself, you had nothing holding you back in your time and you have no idea how you came here. Maybe it's… I don't know… fate? A divine intervention? Sending you where you need to be?"

"I don't know… it's giving me a headache, to be honest. I've only been here a couple days and your government already wants me to sign all these confidentiality papers and wear their ridiculous uniform-"

"What?" Steve asked and glanced at the package.

First Bucky was drafted, and now Hermione was hired, but they still refused to accept him despite his many attempts to volunteer? It seemed so unfair, but he forced a smile on his lips for her.

"Is that what's in the package, then?"

"Yes. It's mostly for show though, so I can access- Wait. I don't think I can even tell you where I'll be working. Or what I'll be doing. I'm really not sure I should accept this job."

"If you can do some good, I think that you should," he said and meant it.

Her shoulders sagged.

"I suppose you're right. Who knows how long I'll be here, after all? I sent off a letter to my old Professor in Scotland, but I guess it'll be a while before he receives it, and then just as long to get a reply, if he even believes me. It feels like a very long shot, but I'm not sure what else to do."

"You should stop worrying for a start. You're starting to have a permanent groove right here," he said, poking the furrow on her brow.

"You're one to talk," she said and returned the gesture. "Guess I have an early day tomorrow. I hate to ask, but where the hell is your bathroom?"

"You're sitting in it."

She looked around.

"I'm pretty sure I'm not."

"It's a kitchen, living room, bedroom. What makes you think it's not a bathroom too?"

He revealed the small tub masquerading as the kitchen counter, amused how she look both shocked and awed.

"That's actually quite ingenious. Funny I never knew these sort of details. You don't mind if I bath? I'd rather start with a good impression and I'm starting to smell ripe."

"No. Sure. I'll just- Do you need help setting it up?"

She nodded and he explained how to unhook the counter and add a hose to the kitchen tap to fill it up, then showed her where the soap and towels were.

"I'll be in my room. Call if you need anything."

He got ready for bed, trying hard not to listen to the sound of water sloshing in the next room because it invariably led to him thinking there was a very naked dame bathing just on the other side. He sat on the edge of his bed, then let himself fall back and groaned in frustration. He was glad to have met Hermione, truly, even happier she was staying with him, but he certainly hadn't thought it through. He had never had to deal with so many hard ons before. It was just plain ridiculous, and a bit creepy. But he was just a man, and Hermione a sweet girl. Pretty too. Which didn't help matters. Really, he could not be blamed for the state he was in.

"I feel like I should salute or something," Steve said the next morning when he found her already dressed in her uniform, with breakfast laid out for them both.

"Don't be silly. I don't even have military training."

"Yes, but you've earned it with your brains. You should embrace it."

Her expression lightened.

"You always know what to say. I really wish I'd met you sooner."

"Can't get much sooner that 56 years in the past, Hermione. What's you rank?"

She turned her arm to show off the three chevrons.

"Sergeant. It's the lowest they could make me to have easy access without rousing too many questions. Can you believe they asked me if I could speak "normally"?"

Steve laughed.

"I like your accent. I hope you told them to… how do you say it… bugger off?"

"No. Didn't want to get fired so soon. Speaking of, Steve. Now that I have a job." Steve felt a knot form in his stomach. This was it then. She didn't need him anymore. "I'd like to pay rent, if I can still stay here, that is. I know you gave me a key, and your offer was rather open ended, but I really don't-"

"Yes!" he said with relief and his cheeks spontaneously burned brighter than the sun.

"Yes I can pay rent?"

"No!"

She giggled.

"You're going to have to make up your mind, Steve."

"Yes, I'd like it if you stayed. No, I don't need you to pay rent."

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"If you don't let me pay rent, I'll find someplace else where they'll be happy to take my money."

"That's… blackmail!"

"Good. I see we understand each other. See you tonight, Steve," she said and kissed his cheek before sauntering out.

Steve stayed where he sat, his coffee turning cold as he stared at the door. His fingers lingered over the spot where she had left a kiss, as if it was no big deal. Maybe it wasn't for her. Women from the future were strange and complicated and utterly fascinating.

They had a routine set in place after she started working for the army: she'd prepare breakfast, he'd help her braid her hair while her wrist was still too weak to wrestle her curls, she would kiss his cheek and wish him good day. Meanwhile, he would find work here and there, barely enough to make ends meet before, but with Hermione's added income, they even went out now and then so he could show her around the city, treat themselves to diners and go to the cinema. It felt suspiciously like dates, and they would even hold hands sometimes on their way back. It had started one night so they wouldn't get separated in a crowded street, but he had kept his fingers linked with hers long after, and any excuse was good enough to hold her hand again after that day. He still couldn't quite believe his life had turned around this much.

Steve introduced Hermione to Maggie, as promised, and they got along great. Too much sometimes, because he'd catch them looking at him and giggling. He'd bet Maggie was telling her embarrassing childhood stories about him, and she had them in spades.

All was well until Hermione received a letter. Steve recognized her own, barely legible handwriting from when her wrist was badly injured. The letter had been returned to the sender with words scribbled over the front: no such address, no such name.

"It's impossible," she said, tears coming to her eyes.

"Maybe you got it wrong?"

"I've lived there for years. Everyone knows Dumbledore. It just had to get to Hogsmeade and the letter would find him. I don't understand. I- I have to go out," she said suddenly and grabbed her odd cloak.

"I'm coming with you."

"You don't have to."

"I'm coming. You know it's not safe at this hour."

She nodded and grabbed his hand, pulling him through the streets until he was too winded to follow her frantic pace.

"Hermione, please. Not so fast."

"I'm sorry," she said with tears in her eyes. She was biting her bottom lip, which she hadn't done in a long while, so she had to be very upset.

"It's alright. We'll get there, Hermione, all in good time."

They continued at a more sedate pace, but he could swear he felt the tension thick around her, as if she was generating a giant ball of static electricity. It was a very strange feeling which made the hairs on his neck stand on end.

She stopped in front of the Woolworth building and paced in front of it, peeked inside, walked around it.

"It's not here. It should be. I'm sure I read this is where it should be."

After ten minutes, he stopped her in her tracks, putting both hands on her arms.

"Hermione, what are you looking for?"

She glanced around, as it afraid someone would overhear, then pulled him into a dark corner.

"The entrance to New York's wizarding district," she whispered.

Steve blinked at her, certain he had not misheard but unable to understand what she meant.

"You don't believe me," she said, her face falling.

"It's not that. I just don't understand."

She pulled him into a dark corner.

"I'm a witch," she said.

"A witch?"

"I have magic."

"Magic?"

She huffed.

"Don't freak out, okay. I didn't use it before because I was afraid they'd come arrest me, but now, I need to know they're here."

She took out her stick, the smooth polished one she tried to hit the drunkard with that night he'd met her for the first time. She waved it around, then said some foreign words and the most magnificent thing he had ever seen sprang out of the end of her stick, an animal made of pure light gallivanting around them. Those few people in the street came to investigate the bright ball of bouncing light and froze in shock, staring at them, but Steve didn't care. The little magical creature made his heart lighter and happier than it had ever been before. Hermione waited, tense, and when nothing happened, she spoke to her creature.

"Go find someone, anyone from the MACUSA and lead them back here."

The creature jumped around but returned to her, tilting its head.

"Go to any witch or wizard, tell them I need help."

"Again, the creature just looked confused."

"Find Dumbledore."

Again, nothing, and the creature faded then disappeared. Hermione broke down, sobbing right there on the pavement while more people crowded around them.

"We have to leave," he whispered urgently. "Right now."

She seemed to realize how much attention she'd drawn and pulled her cloak tighter around her uniform, then waved her wand again, but in a different pattern and with different words. The people suddenly began leaving every which way as if nothing extraordinary had just happened.

"So… a witch," he concluded.

"We'd better talk about this at home," she said and they walked back in silence.

Just when he thought she couldn't turn his world upside down any more that she already had, she went and scrambled it again. He didn't know what was worse: that he wasn't afraid of her when she admitted to being a witch, or that he was stupidly happy she had just called his cramped little tenement home. He was, however, disappointed and quite a bit angry she had kept this secret from him for so long.

Once the door was closed, she divested herself of her cloak and vest before loosening her tie and falling apathetically on her couch. She patted the seat next to her and he joined her, sitting close as was their habit.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," she said right off the bat.

His anger deflated like a balloon meeting a nail. He heaved a heavy sigh.

"I thought if I used magic, they would come and arrest me for illegal tampering of time, and then I got used to not using magic and didn't see the point of telling you."

"You could have. I would have kept your secret."

"I know you would but it's impossible. In the future… or where I'm from, they obliviate muggles who learn about magic. It means they erase the minds of people who don't have magic but learned about it. That's how my society protects itself, and it has been doing so for centuries."

"But if they erased magic from my mind… you…"

She shook her head.

"You wouldn't remember me. I didn't want you to forget about me. I know that's selfish, but you're all I have, Steve. Even when I landed here and had nothing, I still had you."

Steve's eyes went wide. Her words echoed with him on such a deep level. He'd said very similar words once to Bucky, who'd then punched him in the shoulder and called him a ninny, but he'd had that same look she now had, and that he probably had too. He opened his mouth, but once more, he couldn't find the right words. This was too much to process all at once. He closed his mouth. And she had said he always knew what to say.

"Steve?"

"I- You'll always have me, Hermione. I promise."

She inched closer. Her eyes were so large, like doe eyes. Soft brown, with long lashes. And she smelled so good, like his soap, only it somehow smelled better on her. He wanted to kiss her, to finally claim those lips after weeks of pining, but this was probably not the right time and he had no idea what he was supposed to do… He needn't worry though, because she leaned closer and claimed his. He's never imagined a kiss to feel like this: soft, yes, but like electricity was running through him too.

He followed her lead while his hands got adventurous and lay on her thighs before going up over her hips and resting at her waist. However, his head started spinning and he jerked back.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said breathlessly. "I thought-"

"No, stop. You thought correctly. It's just me. I think I forgot to breathe."

She relaxed and the way her shoulders shook, she had to be laughing. He smiled even if she was laughing at him, because only he got into these sort of situations.

"Sorry," he said. "I don't have much experience."

"Kissing?"

"With dames in general," he admitted. "I'm not exactly what women look for in a partner."

She frowned as she observed him.

"You mean a sweet, talented guy with a heart as large as Mount Rushmore, a sense of humour, who is always there for me and braids my hair in the morning so I don't look like a wild jungle beast going to work?"

Fire in his cheeks, he determinedly kept his eyes locked on hers.

"I mean a penniless guy with a weak constitution who doesn't have much to offer and isn't much of a looker."

"Only your heart matters to me, Steve. I really mean that."

She did, too. Somehow, she had looked beyond his exterior and really liked him. She had kissed him. And then he had ruined it. You get better with practice, Bucky had said, so, without second guessing himself for once in his life, Steve leaned towards her and kissed her once, twice, caught her bottom lip and let it go and he had that familiar want for more, so he pressed his lips more firmly against hers, feeling her respond with enthusiasm. He had to keep reminding himself to breathe because it was so easy to forget with the onslaught of sensations. Steve thought he would burst when he felt her tongue brush against his and it took him a while to get used to it, to find what he liked, what she seemed to like when she hummed and pressed herself closer. He felt dizzy when they broke the kiss, but in a good way this time.

"You're a fast learner," she said breathlessly.

"You're a good teacher," he replied with a lazy smile.

They sank deeper into the couch, leaning against one another, holding hands, just enjoying the moment.

He had a million questions to ask her, but knew this wasn't the right time. She had to process what she had learned tonight before she could talk about it. He would wait and be there when she did.

Of course they fell asleep in the most uncomfortable place possible. He knew this couch was murder. It was a wonder Hermione had slept in it for so long, never once complaining. Maybe he could convince her to share his bed… but the idea was dismissed just as soon. There was no way he was going to treat Hermione like some harlot. However, he'd rather she took his bed all the same, even without him in it.

So he would enjoy the time he had with his girl sleeping on his chest with his arm around her. It was such a heady feeling, and she felt so small and fragile there that it made him feel strong and protective in comparison… and with a raging erection. Quite manly all in all. But he hoped to dear God she did not notice, or that she slept until it was gone.

But she moaned soon after, wiggled against him, then opened her eyes and rubbed the sleep out of them.

"Uhmm. Unplanned sleepover?" she asked.

He chuckled and kissed her forehead.

"Yeah, you could say that."

She sat up, pushing away the blankets he'd managed to pull over them during the night, and, despite still being dressed, his state of arousal was quite obvious.

He pulled the blanket back to cover himself.

"Don't worry. I've shared a tent with two boys for a year. Morning wood is not going to shock me anytime soon."

He stared at her in confusion and flushed in embarrassment.

"What?"

"I guess I should tell you my life story one of these days."

"Yeah, I really think you should."

Loose morals… Jeez. Just talking about morning erections like it's nothing.

"Just so I know how deep out of water I am here, would you mind telling me how many boyfriends you've had?"

He wondered if she really was a female Bucky sometimes.

"Not as many as you seem to think. Two, I guess, and I didn't even sleep with Viktor."

"So one?"

"Alright, just the one. And honestly, I'd erase the experience if I could. Well, I technically could, but it's a bit dangerous pointing your own wand at your head."

Right. A witch. He'd almost forgotten. How was that possible!? It was probably one of the most insane things he'd ever witnessed and he'd forgotten… He wished they had time to talk about it but Hermione was already running late.

"I think you're going to need to iron your uniform," he pointed out.

"I can't believe I slept in the thing. Seems you get that point for guessing it was a nightgown after all. I really don't have time to iron it though."

Steve was about to offer to do it when she withdrew her magic wand out.

"Want to see a magic trick?" she asked and he nodded eagerly.

Her uniform ironed itself out impeccably, her hair braided itself to perfection, food and mugs began to float through the air as magic prepared breakfast, then his own clothes ironed themselves out and his hair combed itself. It took all of three minutes where it would have taken at least twenty without magic.

"That's… fantastic!"

"Isn't it just? It's also why wizards and witches are usually some of the laziest people you will ever meet."

She seemed to catch herself, remembering she was the only witch around here, and became quiet and pensive while she picked at her breakfast. But that day, before she left, she kissed him on the lips instead of the cheek.