Trying to determine what is going on in the world by reading newspapers is like trying to tell the time by watching the second hand of a clock. ~Ben Hecht
Once a newspaper touches a story, the facts are lost forever, even to the protagonists. ~Norman Mailer
I fear three newspapers more than a hundred thousand bayonets. ~Napoleon

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Dumbledore was staring at her across a chessboard. He gave her a half smile and a knowing look as he took one of the pawns protecting her queen. He moved the rook across the board, Leaving it before the path of his castle.

Check mate.

Hermione woke with scowl as the dream disappeared before she could remember the board or arrange another move. Instead, she set about the tent assembling breakfast into roll call, taking in reports from the two ex-students along with queries of coffee or tea. Assignments were issued followed by strategy over toast; Hermione shunning the host of muggle cafe's drifting smells from the street beyond.

Capital was tight.
She felt guilty, considering her meal last night- but there was no such thing as a free lunch, or dinner as it was, and there was a productivity to the table that Hermione stoked gently.
"George is ready to launch" Dennis began, before his phone pierced the tent.
"It's Harry."

Hermione smiled and began gathering the muggle camping plates, making her way to the tiny bathroom sink. As she washed the dishes by hand, she listened to Dennis' confident voice drift through the tent's empty flap.

"Well that's what we wanted I suppose."
"Oh his unit? I'll let Hermione know."
"Uh huh. Yep, no worries, so 10 at Florence Fortescues? Wow, glad I won't be there for that!"

Hermione rinsed the last of the mugs and avoided her reflection in the mirrored cabinet before her.
More people pulled into her mess.
Had Dumbledore felt this guilt? Or were they just pieces in his bigger game, for the greater good.

Hermione rinsed the last of the plates and avoided her reflection in the mirrored cabinet before her.

More people pulled into her mess.

Had Dumbledore felt this guilt? Or like her dream, were they just pieces in his bigger game, for the greater good?

Dennis had fallen silent after a quick 'bye then', and Hermione was blocked as she turned from the sink by the boy in the door way, who stared at her a little too softly.

"All good Hermione? Here, let me."

With a wave of his wand, Dennis floated the dishes back through the room and into the tent.
Hermione bristled and only nodded at the boy, stepping past him through the door. His guiding hand continued to hover on her back as Luna now stood in the center of the room, gazing at the pair of them.

Hermione tried not to watch as Dennis too-quickly, and too-guiltily blathering into chat. Instead, she set about the muggle clothes at her feet.
Skeeter would met her at 3.

"So uh, I'm off then, good luck with everything, Luna, you'll be fine! Hermione.-"
"Pardon, oh, Yes. Make sure you mention your work for George and don't mention the Quibbler. Also, Rita will get there-"
"At 12, Hermione, I've got it."
Hermione looked back to the clothes Luna was sorting through, rather than returning the boy's smile.

You are a terrible person Granger.

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Severus showered then slept for all of two hours before waking.
Disgruntedly, he stormed through the swirling of dawn and set about pacing. The sight of his teaching robes strewn on the bathroom floor refreshed the prickling of pain from his throat.
The skin chafed red and raw had swelled and Severus tried to avoid the scared reflection that met him at each turn of the small room and hall, but he could only stare hatefully as the discomfort stoked an earlier blaze of anger.
A rage still thrummed with each turn of the room as he reviewed his disastrous attempts with eternal thorn in his side Hermione Granger.

He ignored the prospect of the magical notes sitting open in their box in the lab below. Instead he set his foul temper upon the robes hanging with deceptive innocence.
The skin of his neck had chafed terribly after a single night an d Severus eyed the closet's scant offerings with disdain.
Being a recluse had required far few clothe changes. He tried not to think of the whiskey sitting on the mantle in the dark shuttered "living" room.
He had gone to court, after a brief informal interrogation stint in Azkaban, wearing the robes Dumbledore had brought him 20 years earlier for his first ministry 'appearance'. The old man wouldn't have appreciated the gesture, which had made the prospect all the more alluring in his last night spent in the fetid cell, clutching dearly to the fire whisky someone from the order had secured him.

Severus eyed the fine dress robes with a far more shuttered expression, casting over them and the associations they carried, before eyeing the bottom of the closet, lined with the refuse of a near decade of unopened and unworn Christmas gifts.

This last Christmas he had thrown aside the rick green turtle neck with disdainful amusement. Now he stretched it over his still damp hair, and let the soft fabric rest over the worst of the swollen flesh.
After a few cleverly placed cushioning and soothing charms, Severus eyed himself in the mirror. Some of the anger he felt still bristled through his hunched defensive figure in the mirror, all skinny legs and scars, ridiculous jumper drowning his form.
Glaring, Severus hoisted his voluminous Hogwarts outer robes , as well as his trousers, on.

Now the wizard before him resembled his character.
The damaged, vicious, bastard.

Who damn it all to hell, was about to throw his lot in with the whims of another pretty muggle-born gryffindor.
Not pretty.
Young.
Lecher.

With that thought, Severus tied his hair at the nape of his neck and placed his little worn reading glasses on the prominent jutt of his nose.
Greasy, old, ridiculous, lecher.
Who was trying to help.

Severus fingered the spine of his old text book, and let the focus of deep thought steal him away.

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"I've been thinking of what you want from me, Hermione."

Hermione tried not to gape at the girl's casual and frank tone and instead nodded along.

"The Quibbler focus, and the political side of it all."

"I thought of everything, and I guess what I'm saying is, I still want to interview, I still will design robes and go into business.
"But the Quibble should remain objective."

Hermione turned from the girl and set about handing her combinations of muggle clothes. Luna had seen too much and she knew Hermione had fallen apart but there was nothing Hermione could say to assure or compel her.
"I don't want it to become a name without substance."

"It's still Father's magazine, he has to be involved. How about we do an interview and show it to him?"

Hermione nodded and tried to ignore the tears coming to her eyes as she moved to fiercely hug the girl. Hiding her face in the girls blonde hair. She was volunteering into Hermione's madness
she had seen Hermione fall apart, seen too much of everything, and she was still here anyway.

"Thank you."

Hermione excused herself to the bathroom once more to change into Luna's rather elaborate design. This time she resolutely held her reflection's gaze. She thought instantly of Dumbledore.

Luna was volunteering her way into her mess. She had watched as Hermione fell to pieces and she was still here. Willing to help.

A rook takes a pawn; a castle takes a queen.

But what else had been on the board?

How many pieces had volunteered?

Hermione emerged from the bathroom to Luna's frown.
"Oh dear, that's not right at all."

"Give it back, and try this." Luna flung two more hung up pieces at her, one an elongated muggle coat, in bold crimson, and beneath a transfigured Hogwarts skirt she'd grown out of in fifth year.

For the next hour, Hermione was ushered in and out of different outfits until each became a haze of colour and odd combinations. Soon enough, each proffered garment was followed by probing from Luna, asking her to recount her reaction to the last week. Hermione soon abandoned her trips to the bathroom, instead changing in front of the girl while trying not to fall apart.

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Draco made no comment as to his appearance, and Severus stepped through the fire place with a billow of robes and a practiced grace that showed nothing of the anxiety mulling in his stomach.

Was he really going to do this?
She would hate him.

And all the better for her.

He banished the image of Hermione Granger in the dim lighting of the parisian cafe, and refused to think what the girls thoughts might be as she woke.

"Severus dear, how good to see you out! Draco, call for tea."

"you'd be surprised how active i've become of late. I arrived last night and went to dinner with a lovely young woman, oh how i do miss Paris."

Narcissa smirked and Severus presented his own lewd grin even as he directed the conversation forward.
"Tell me, did you clear up that security leak here? I always did prefer your summer residence, Narcissa."

"Oh, the groundskeeper was rather fruitful on that score. Familiar with a pensieve. You wouldn't dream who it was."

"Hermione Granger."

Narcissa, who had been floating about the breakfast table in a swath of grey robes, stopped and gave Severus a newly assessing look.
"Ah. As useful a font of knowledge as ever, Severus. You do know that I invited you over independent of your business with Draco, of course?"

"I'm sure. I am the boys Godfather after all."

"So what have the Order been up to? I saw Kingsley's resignation in the paper."

"Actually, do you have this mornings Prophet? I stopped my subscription."

Narcissa summoned an elf, wearing two faded blue tea-towels, who returned moments later carrying the paper beneath an elaborate and rather heavy looking platter.

HARRY POTTER assists DMLE squad with disappearance of HERMIONE GRANGER.
Details of damage to St Mungos, and hospitalisation of Golden Trio pages 6 & 7.

"Ah, my guess seems rather arbitrary now.

"On the contrary, I'm delighted to see you coming to life once more. That's a lovely sweater by the way."

Severus resisted the urge to self consciously pull at his sleeves.

"I always forget you're younger than me."

"I assure you Narcissa, you wear your years more gracefully than i"

"Good answer. Now tell me, are you going to explain just how you know Hermione Granger is in the neighborhood?"

"Why, Narcissa, I told you. I dined with her last night. She intends to overthrow the Marriage Law."

There was silence in the room as Narcissa registered his news.

"Well really. I suppose these Gryffindors never fail to exceed ones expectations."

"Yes. Rather."

"I suppose Teddy Burgess is about to encounter the difficult task of keeping potter and his friends for doing as they wish. This might be rather entertaining. It does shed a terribly interesting light on the prophets version of events.

Narcissa spoke with an abstract delight and Severus found he did not envy the croissant being slowly ripped apart by long immaculate finger nails.

"So then does Miss Granger know of your arrangement with Draco?"

"Yes, I mentioned it. Narcissa, if it's not too forward to ask, how does this favour for Burgess throw your son into the light of the reformation? Is there a specific position or are the premises more vague?

"You and I both know Draco is clutching at shadows.

Narcissa dropped the act of pure blood widow and witch of the house, and instead stood in the dunny light of the pink paper room, looking old despite the lack of lines about her weary eyes.
A lone silver streak ran through her otherwise jet black hair. Narcissa Malfoy stood before him, in the middle of a formal breakfast, and laid herself bare.

Oh, her robes stayed in tact, but she abandoned the pretense of it all with the simple act of sitting on a sofa' armrest, clutching about her middle.
Narcissa's previous appeal for her son, teary and hopeless those years ago crept into his thoughts and Severus forced himself to occlude. It was only as his mind cleared that he broke the silence of the room.

"Perhaps, Narcissa, Hermione would be inclined to meet with you.
The witch snapped her eyes to his at the girls christian name.
"She's being trailed by that abhorrent woman Skeeter at the moment."

"Rita Skeeter? The DMLE and Harry Potter don't know where Granger is, but Rita Skeeter does."
Narcissa actually laughed

"What does Skeeter have on her?"

"The situation is quite the reverse, I assure you."

Narcissa smiled at him, before nodding slowly.
"Perhaps Miss Granger is a good person to owe a favour."

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When Luna started the interview, probing her about the last week, Hermione fell apart completely. It was hard to imagine that this time last week, she'd been safe and sound at the Burrow helping set up for Sunday lunch.

Hermione let a weeks worth of chaos bubble out of her, and still, the blonde witch didn't stop her questions once. Instead, the room was a wash of fabric swirling through the air under Luna's lofty wand movements, as Hermione dashed in and out of the bathroom trying various pieces on as Luna adjusted a dozen different robes at once.

Soon Hermione's outpourings had little to do with the law.

"...I've been putting up with Ron for weeks because I didn't want to loose the family and the home I had there. But Molly's face. God.
I'd written a bloody article, but anyone would've thought I was a bitch stringing her son along, while betraying him on the sly somehow.
With an article. a medical research article? How dare I?"

"Well do you think she might have misinterpreted Snape's appearance at the Burrow?"

Hermione stopped solid, and she stood in just a bra and jeans, as a new clarity seemed to flood the room.

"Luna, completely off the record for a moment. Snape took me out to Dinner last night. He offered me a potion's apprenticeship."

Luna's wand stopped and partly transfigured muggle clothes fell once more to the floor.

"Are you going to take it?"

"Heres the thing- he mentioned he was working for the Malfoys. Assisting with the purchase of a magical greenhouse, I think; Luna, I think they're purchasing the entire greenhouse to get larger quantities through. It could include Calligula. Luna I don't know if you've heard of the stories-"

"I've heard of it. Dad raged about it in the Quibbler once. One of his earliest articles, Mum's parents tried to tell her all about it.
The tradition. He raves about it on my birthdays." Hermione looked at the frail girl, who only moments ago had defended her father attachment to the magazine, and watched the girl stare off in sadness, off with distant memories.

Hermione tried not to remember the unhinged man who had tried to sell them to Voldemort, and to instead imagine the man who had lost his wife
and had only Luna to live on for.

"Luna, I think I'm going to have to meet your father tomorrow."

She watched as the clothes reassembled themselves once more, and Luna's barrage of questions continues.

"Back on the record, what happened at St Mungo's yesterday?"

Hermione pulled a now gold hemmed red skirt over her head and kept her voice confident and unwavering.

"I had a panic attack. I've been getting them since the end of the war. I mistook three aurors for death eaters.
I'm worried I'm losing it Luna. I thought for a moment Death Eaters were behind the Ministry's marriage law. I wasn't myself.
I was myself two years ago, I was scared and running from a force bigger than myself and I started to remember what happened
the last time that muggle borns were called into the ministry.

Luna looked at her pointedly and didn't move her gaze at all, even as she rose from the bed,
and placed a transfigured denim jacket, now black short, voluminous outer robe, it's open breast held together with ribbons, the useless muggle zipper wreathed instead through intricate gold chain, capping the shoulder and collar of the robe. Beneath a rich silk robe, that had once been a rather nice nighty from her mother's work friends, clung to her hips. The effect was disarming in the mirror. A wave of rich red and gold, protected by the web of twisting golden rings and muggle metal.
Hermione thought of Ron's deluminator and Harry's unshaking support. Luna always had seen too much.

Luna looked at her in the mirror, and spoke quietly.
I think sometimes we forget you're not a perfect princess anymore. How have you been coping after the war?

Hermione startled, her eyes wide, at the different meanings of Luna's words. In the quibbler, Luna had allowed her story to go on the record without argument.
But with them both looking at the robes around her, Luna seemed to stress the word princess, bringing to mind what they transformed into.

Hermione tried not to think in Chess Analogies as she dismantled the outfit, placing it on a coat hanger without the aid of magic, and answered the rest of Luna's questions mechanically.

She tried to avoid her watch, as it sat on the window sill, free from her wrist for the first time in a year, ticking ever closer to 10 o'clock.

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Florence Fortescues was filled to the brim with the last of the summer trade, a mix of soon returning Hogwarts students and witches and wizards eager to trade gossip and news about the ministry's new marriage law.

Lucy arrived just as Molly left Ginny to order at the counter, and the young red head waved the girl in healer robes over to their table.

"Hi"

"Thanks for coming. Rita Skeeter will be here shortly. The thing you have to know is.."

"Ginny dear, here you are. Oh, hello, old school friend?"

"Mum, this is Lucy. She works with Hermione."

"Oh. I see. Nice to meet you dear."

"Likewise. I've heard so much about you." Lucy's smile was not openly snide but Ginny wondered exactly what the pure blood witch meant by the statement.

"Lucy here contacted Ron, she was worried about Hermione."

"She's not the only one. Have you heard anything from her?" Molly's voice was lowered and Ginny tried not to look over her shoulder as the crowded ice cream parlour erupted into chatter, and the flash of camera announced the arrival of Rita Skeeter, who sat with a flourish at the table across from them.

Ginny kept her voice even and was sure it carried throughout the balcony.

"Harry's been placed on the MLE squad to help find her. St Mungo's has issued a missing person's report, your boss Sullivan, I think Lucy. They've found a lead suggesting she's in Paris. Harry's worried that she's running into danger."

The scratching of a quick quotes quill grew even more audible as Skeeter came to stand at their table.
"Mrs Weasley, do you have a comment on the news surrounding Hermione Granger? Are she and your son Ronald still involved?"

Molly stared at the three witches before her with a flash of ire. She didn't know what her daughter, or Hermione, were playing at, or who this medi-witch was, but if they wanted to bring her into this, they would reap their own reward.

"Ron offered his engagement days ago, as soon as they learned of the marriage law."

"Mrs Weasley, the marriage law was only introduced on Friday night, it's believed Miss Granger has been missing since Friday morning following an altercation at St Mungo's. Did Miss Granger have prior warning and do you have any comment on the cause of your sons' injuries the day before?"

Molly bristled before the witch before glowering at her daughter, who was purposefully avoiding her eyes, looking guiltily down at the table before her.

What had the foolish girl got herself into?

"Perhaps you should speak to my son about that"

"Have you had any contact with Miss Granger?"

Ginny finally piped up from beside her mother.

"No one has heard from Hermione since the law was announced. Harry is working with the ministry and he found a new magical contract which was made transparent under the Magical Publications act that Kingsley Shacklebolt initiated. Luna Lovegood has apparently offered Hermione a paid position at the Quibbler and Harry is in Paris looking for the both of them as we speak."

Skeeter smiled at the red head.
As if that was where this interview was going.

"Lucy, Lucillia Blishwick am I correct? You're a co-worked of Miss Granger, sharing with her an illustrious potions apprenticeship. Do you have any insights from within St Mungos?"

Lucy looked from the heavily made-up reporter, to the two Weasley women staring across the table at her. Her mother had labelled the Weasleys fools and blood traitors for years. That said, Her mother still believed Lucy would marry some prestigious wizard, with her own work and contribution to the magical world ignored.

"St Mungo's had initiated a major project prior to the marriage laws announcement that, I'm sure I'm not at liberty to speak about. Purely in the means of conjecture, I know Hermione was uneasy about some of their research into anti-contraceptive potions. If she did know about the Marriage Law, perhaps her disappearance from St Mungo's has rather more to do with a file of research that has since gone missing. But I really couldn't say, you understand. I haven't heard from Hermione since seeing her arrive for work on Friday morning. There were three aurors waiting for her upstairs, perhaps they would know more about the incident."

"Did Miss Granger mention knowing about the law's introduction or any other concerns that morning?"

"No, no she didn't."

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It was twenty minutes past ten and Hermione had fallen silent, as Luna finished final pieces of clothing, 'Crook's' ugly sweater and the once menacing leather coat. Hermione did her best not to think of Molly as she watched the coat floating softly before her. It's sleeves and insides floated with coloured taffeta, torn from Hermione's one-time Yule Ball gown and charmed into a multitude of shades, from purple and blue matching the woolen strips of orange and pink. The effect was ostentatious and luckily the rather elaborate shades sat covered from the muggles, like a hidden plumage to emerge as the sleeves detached, and a plain white robe emerged from beneath, like a sacrificial shift. It reminded Hermione momentarily of a dress robe that had beauty and magic and power, only to be hidden away by a wizard's proffered robe over the top, determined to protect and hide her from the world. She looked at the blonde witch curiously and understood the symbolism apparent. But still Luna was adamant, and Hermione only nodded as she made her way out of the apartment. The girl continued to see too much.

All magic came with a price, and there was no such thing as free lunch.

Luna finally added heels to her boots, before picking up Dennis' camera. Hermione followed the girl out of the tent, watching as she vanished it, and instead grasped the notes and books heaving in her bag. Their weight reassured her as she and Luna emerged in the take away shop below.

The muggle owner looked her over as the counter full of men came to a standstill over their coffees. Hermione smiled and waved at him, and made to weave her way through to the entrance with Luna close behind her, the girl's own denim clad form and elaborate earrings drawing attention. She brushed a hand through her hair, losing the owner's gaze, but of course, of course, he called out to her and made his way, shoving past the other men to leave the counter.

"Ahh, out to enjoy the city I hope girls. Make sure you have a lovely time! This came for you Her-migh-on-ee Granger! And this."

The owner passed her a bulky muggle package, along with an elaborate glossy envelope.

"Letters and invitations already! I hope your suitors won't be too bothersome, ladies!"

The men at the counter laughed behind their hands and the owner guffawed, before moving back behind the counter and letting them finally pass.

Hermione walked swiftly, with Luna trailing behind her, and she quieted the girl's questions with a harried glare. They walked three blocks, Hermione's heels clanging as thoughts raced through her head.

She stopped when she noticed Luna's panting. As soon as she slowed, a wave of exhaustion swept through her, and she led them towards the metro with a weary, passionate contempt for high heels and whoever came up with the concept. Fashion. She was about to enter the world of bloody fashion. Lavender would have a stroke.

The thought brought a feral smile to her face as she dragged Luna along, rushing to catch the cabin of light before it drifted off the platform.

As soon as they found seats among the mid-morning throng of tourists, Luna's questions began.

"Hermione, who mailed?"

Hermione examined the packages as the train surfaced above ground, weaving its way to the fringes of the city.

Both parcels were labelled clearly with her name and address.

"I don't know, but I can't check here. It doesn't matter. We need to go and get the tent. Leave everything else there. Luna you need to go to the French Ministry immediately."

"We open them first, then we decide what to do." The girl sat in her double denims and looked at Hermione as though finally realising she was mad.

"Luna, only you and Dennis know where I am. I haven't even told Harry the address."

"But they didn't storm the place. They mailed you. And we don't even know who They are. Open them."

Luna then raised Dennis' camera, and photographed Hermione on the muggle metro, the Envelopes sitting on the lap of her elaborate robes, and the muggle travelers oblivious behind them.

They got off on the next stop, where Luna continued to draw far too much attention to themselves, deciding now was the opportune moment for her promised photo shoot.

Hermione guided them through the green tiled platform, glancing hastily at the metro maps and working out where they were. None the wiser, Hermione emerged with Luna in tow to what was apparently an incredibly residential area. They rushed into the first café they sat, and Luna took a final photo of her.

Hermione stared at her pointedly.

"For the article."

Hermione was really beginning to loathe her new hair as it drew in the sweat and heat and energy of their desperate rush, blooming into Hermione must knew looked frizzy and horrendous. Drawing a steadying breath, she settled into the booth of the cheap muggle café, servicing it's metro patrons with a dull monotony. She placed the two envelopes on the chair next to her, and attempted to circumspectly wave her wand beneath the table.

This was so close to breaking the statute of secrecy.

She had nowhere else to go.

None of the muggles looked up as Hermione efforts drew no alarming flashes, and the envelopes sat plainly withstanding her wash of magic.

Luna smiled patiently over the table.

Reluctantly, Hermione opened the first, glossy envelope.

No magical herald swept out, and the parchment was plain, if showing the heaviness of wealth.

Miss Granger,

I reach out after our mutual acquaintance, Severus, informed me of your plight in Paris.

Would you agree to meet with me? I'll be at Enchantress Salon from 3?

Best wishes,
Narcissa Malfoy.

The gall of it.

The absolute gall.

Hermione tossed the letter to Luna with contempt and raced towards the final parcel which must be

How had she not recognized the bloody writing.

Although it did look different in muggle sharpie.

She pulled two books from the parcel, along with not a letter, but a scribble on torn parchment,

"You left the first behind. The second is to keep you abreast of my developments with Mr George Weasley."

There was no name, or sign off.

He was infuriating.

Hermione instantly scanned herself for a tracking charm of any description, before giving both items of mail the same treatment.

She was clean.

She was okay.

Luna sat gazing at the two books now on the table. The first, the Half-blood Prince's potions text. The second, a seemingly blank notebook.

Strike that. Hermione opened and flipped through the line pages with frustration.

A blank notebook.

Luna looked at Hermione and waited. Waited for Hermione Granger to figure it out.

"You go back and move the tent. Leave everything else as it. I don't trust her at all."

"Who're the books from?"

"Snape."

Hermione felt a feral smirk line her face. He was Severus no more apparently.

Fine.

"Will they help?"

"Yes. But I still don't trust that woman. You go move the tent and head straight to the French ministry. I think I need to keep moving. You can reach me and Dennis on the mobile, I'll see you at three."

"We still go?"

"We can't cross Skeeter, we need to be at Groombrides as scheduled."

"But what about Narcissa, you don't think-"

"The worst she can do is get me arrested. It's a public space. She won't do anything with Skeeter there."

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