As soon as she got home Hermione pushed her sofa and coffee table out of the way so she could lay the file in the middle of her living room space. She ignored Crookshanks inquiring meows. She sorted the report into several piles pertaining to the subject matter.

All evidence and analysis of rituals in one stack, the potion use evidence in another, then blood analysis and magical signatures in their own pile. Furthest from her she put the reports on the method of entry and speculation on possible motives. None of those really pertained to her part of the investigation.

Then Hermione jumped up and grabbed several texts and her own personal studies on ritual magic. Although rituals were passed down through families and cultures, they were twisted slightly and adjusted to be optimum for the family or the purpose they were needed. One could draw an analogy to glasses. The shape was much the same for everyone — some type of frame and lenses. But the focus and thickness varied from person to person and were the result of your personal prescription. In much the same way ritual magic was unique to the group of practitioners.

Armed with enough information on the design of the ritual space you could narrow down the country, then the region, then even the family if you had enough data and clues. Due to this ritual magic was highly secretive and generally only performed with trusted family or coven members.

Crookshanks walked between the pictures, his whiskers twitching. "Mrrow."

"I know it's fascinating isn't it?" Hermione waved her wand enlarging some of the images, seeing what might be the remnants of a berkana rune but some of the lines were too a bit too curved. She picked up a reference book and flipped through the pages.

England had a rich history and mix of cultures in addition to their historic need to conquer other countries and "appropriate" some knowledge and artifacts. This appropriation sometimes made it a bit more difficult to correctly trace the history of some of the rituals as they could have been stolen for use by English families centuries ago. Hermione slashed her wand through the air, drawing runes in glowing blue slashes through the air and studying them from different angles to try to decide if they resembled the ruins in the pictures.

"Mew."

Hermione looked at Crookshanks frowning. "What are you on about?"

"Mew." Crookshanks meowed again snarkily.

"There is nothing wrong with — what – what!" Hermione jumped up and ran to her room, turning so she could look at her butt in the mirror. Slowly darkening on her slacks was a phone number and a message—WRITTEN RIGHT ACROSS HER ARSE!

Without thinking, because that was how she apparently operated now when dealing with one Harry Potter, Hermione snatched up her mobile to rage text the phone number now written in elegant script across her bum.

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Harry reached for his mobile as it beeped at him:

Unknown: YOU RUINED MY OUTFIT

Harry: Hermione?

Unknown: YOU ALSO OWE ME A BRA!

Harry: u can come over any time to get it. u know my address. or if u give me urs I can bring it to you

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Harry smiled down at his mobile as he waited for a response. He heard a thump from the flat above him and looked up, hearing a faint feminine yelling. It almost sounded like...

No, he shook his head, he was getting too obsessed with her. "Moderation," he muttered to himself as he saved her contact information as Hermione3

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Unknown: or i can bring you breakfast tomorrow. what do you want?

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Hermione huffed as her mobile beeped and she saw his message. She thought briefly of telling Harry no but then changed her mind. He definitely owed her breakfast. She typed in her favorite Starbucks order, then threw her mobile on the bed as she went to change into pajamas and throw her slacks in the bin. That man was hard on her wardrobe.

More comfortable and determined to put one green-eyed menace out of her mind. She settled down over the file again, ignoring Crookshanks smirking cat face.

Harry was waiting on the steps of the Ministry a cup of ridiculously expensive coffee in his hand along with a bag containing cinnamon scones. His heart gave a little thump that he tried to ignore when Hermione spotted him and smiled. She was probably smiling at the coffee he'd dutifully gotten. Although to be fair he had ruined her pretty blue trousers.

"Good morning. Your coffee and scone." He handed her the coffee and watched a little wide-eyed as she took a larger-than-expected gulp. "Late night?"

"Oh I didn't get a chance to sleep, I wanted to make sure I had it all reviewed before the questions today. And there were some questions I had for you first."

"Of course, let's go into one of the conference rooms."

When they got into the lift, Harry gently cupped her elbow and Hermione looked over at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Just in case you try to run away or miraculously summon Hagatha. You've got me traumatized now."

Hermione stuck her nose in the air. "Well I'm sure with your army of girlfriends you'll find someone to soothe you."

"I don't have an army of girlfriends, I don't even have one girlfriend. I have friends who are women, that's it. Unless you'd like to be my girlfriend, then I'd consider it."

"You-you–" Hermione sputtered, not quite sure why she was offended and yet could feel irritation prickle on her skin. Why had he chased her if he'd only 'consider' her as a girlfriend? Harry definitely wanted to add her to his likely outrageously long list of conquests.

"You'd have to prove you wanted me for me though, and not just because you enjoyed having sex with me."

"You're the one that liked having sex with me more!" Hermione hissed furiously as the door opened to the Auror floor. "In the shower with that voice–" She lowered her voice to try to imitate him "–Come join me in the shower Hermione so I can blow your mind with my sexpertise!"

"Did he really say that?" Elias clutched some further reports he was dropping off as he stared at the two getting off the lift in fascination. His pink shirt proclaimed in large letters, "I'm not weird, I'm a wizard."

"Yes!"

"No!" Harry pointed at Elias as Hermione swept past, "I did not say that. Are those the newest findings?"

"Yes some of the initial wreckage was cleared and the fires stopped reigniting so we were able to finally do a proper survey."

Harry pulled the papers away from Elias who was still looking from Hermione who was heading towards the conference rooms then back towards him with wide eyes. "Thank you. No texting my sister Burke."

Elias straightened up, his shoulders back, and gave a quick salute. "Sir, yes, sir!"

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As soon as the conference door closed behind the couple, Elias whipped his mobile out of his pocket to text Theo Nott:

Elias: I am under strict orders from Auror Potter not to text zinny he told his cinderella that he would blow her mind with his sexpertise

Theo: understood

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Zinnia pulled her mobile from the actually bottomless depths of her purse when it buzzed agitatedly at her:

Theo: Our favorite hufflepuff has just relayed the fact that harry apparently told cinderella he would blow her mind with his sexpertise

Fred💕are you even friends with more than one hufflepuff?

Theo: No that's why he's my favorite

Theo: He is also my least favorite

Zinnia: SEXPERTISE?! WTF IS WRONG WITH HIM A;LNKFA;NDF

Fred💕 i think its a good line

Theo: gryffindors =.=

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As Hermione trailed Harry up to the imposing brick mansion that belonged to the Greengrasses she was still a little bemused from their morning meeting. Hermione frequently found herself in the role of educating someone to help them make the leaps of logic that she made effortlessly.

While Hermione had never doubted Harry's intelligence — that was what had made him so attractive during their date. However, the depth of his knowledge and ease of following her logical leaps had been a novel experience this morning.

A house elf dressed sharply in a dark grey livery answered the door. "Auror Potter. Miss Granger. The Master is expecting you, please follow me."

They were led to a large office done in dark colors with a six-foot wide walnut desk taking up much of the room. The walls were lined with bookshelves that looked perfectly done as if they were accents rather than in actual use.

Gerald Greengrass sat in the chair behind the desk and rose as they entered. His dark brown hair was liberally threaded with grey, and there were dark circles under his eyes and his skin had a greyish cast. It was obvious even to a stranger that the was going through a difficult time.

Harry had explained to Hermione how Mrs. Greengrass was currently in a magically induced coma to slow the progression of a blood curse that had plagued the Greengrasses for nearly three centuries. Hemione couldn't imagine the torture of loving someone so desperately and yet having to watch them die slowly.

How desperate would she be to save them?

It was a thought that settled in the back of her mind as she had gone through the evidence with Harry that morning while prepping the questions Harry would ask for the interview. The thought was like a rock in her shoe, bothering her as she reviewed again the remnants of the ritual circle in preparation for accompanying Harry to question Mr. Greengrass.

"Harry." Greengrass came closer and they clasped hands familiarly, Harry's hand patting the older man's elbow. When he turned to her she could see the veil of formality coming over him as he gave a short incline of his head. "Miss Granger."

"Unspeakable Granger." Hermione corrected her title, watching him.

Harry glanced at her, but her focus was on Gerald Greengrass. "Yes, my apologies. Unspeakable Granger."

The moment was strangely tense until Harry cleared his throat, his hand gesturing her to one of the chairs, and Mr. Greegrass settled back behind his desk.

Harry reached into his black auror coat, pulling out a small ornate box that he placed on the desk between them. Hermione didn't recognize the box. Mr. Greengrass looked vaguely discomfited as he asked, "Is this really necessary?"

"Yes," Harry answered as he flipped open the small box and a wisp of white smoke curled into the air. Hermione had not realized the British Ministry used artificial memory makers as part of their investigative procedures. Interesting. The white smoke above acted as an impartial recording for pensive review later. "This is Deputy Auror Harry James Potter, with Unspeakable Hermione Jean Granger questioning Gerald Greengrass in relation to the destruction of the Greengrass Medical Building. Mr. Greengrass do you have any idea who may have attacked your building?"

"I don't really have any enemies, there are political disagreements of course, but that would be it. I can't imagine anyone doing something this horrible."

Harry tensed slightly as Greengrass brought up politics and Hermione had the feeling Harry knew where this was going to lead. Harry continued smoothly, "Any clue or direction would be helpful to the investigation, sir. What political disagreements are you referring to?"

Gerald rubbed his mouth looking downward. "You know what I'm talking about."

"Please for the record if you could explain." Harry insisted politely.

"When my family sided with yours against the Malfoys. You may have closer ties that allow the Malfoys to ignore the transgression against them but perhaps that is not so with my family."

"You believe Lucius Malfoy may have destroyed your medical facility because two years ago you supported Frank Longbottom for Minister instead of him?"

"Who am I to say what the Malfoys would do? You asked if anyone would have a reason to want to harm me and mine. Malfoy has a reason."

"Anyone else?"

Gerald shrugged. "No one whose name I remember."

"I would think that considering the research destroyed was important to your wife's recovery you would be trying harder to remember." The words came out sharply despite Hermione having agreed to Harry's request to let him handle the interview.

Gerald Greengrass immediately shot to his feet, his magic expanding in the room, his wand in hand but Harry was faster his wand raised and pointing at Gerald.

"You—" Gerald began a snarl marring his face as he looked at Hermione.

"Be careful," Harry warned him, his voice low. "Unspeakable Granger apologizes if she came across as rude, however, she is only trying to make sure we get all the information needed to bring whoever may have done this to justice. Isn't she?"

Harry's gaze flicked to her and Hermione jolted a little unnerved at how quickly the situation had escalated. "Yes, I–"

"Thank you." Harry cut her off with another glance of warning. Damnit. Hermione had promised she would just listen but wasn't it obvious Greengrass wasn't being helpful? Who acted like that when asked questions that could catch the criminal who had potentially harmed his wife?

Geralds still held his wand but his muscles had relaxed slightly as he was still held at Harry's wand point.

"Our next order of business will be questioning the Malfoys and establishing their whereabouts for the night in question," Harry promised. "We are, however, requesting access to your ritual space as we are sorting through the evidence and need to be able to establish what may have been set up by your family as opposed to being used by the perpetrator."

Gerald was already shaking his head, his face impassive. "I'm sorry, Harry, unfortunately, I just remembered an appointment I cannot miss, you will have to come back at another time."

"Mr. Greengrass— Gerald—" Harry paused and lowered his wand pointedly. "We are on the same side. Allowing us to compare your ritual spaces will help us find whoever did this, so we can have them sent to Azkaban where they belong."

Gerald's eyes went from Harry to Hermione and he slowly sat down, his shoulders straight and back stiff. "Fribble." There was a low pop of sound the house elf who had let them in appeared in the room. "Please escort Auror Potter and Unspeakable Granger out. Our interview has been concluded."

Harry's jaw tightened but he nodded, his wand waving in the air, and the white cloud that had hovered over them swirled in a circle before zipping back into the tiny box. Harry snapped the lid closed and tucked it back into the inner pockets of his robes. He held his hand out for Hermione and helped her stand, before escorting her out, followed by the house elf.

There was a strange formality to both wizards' behavior that Hermione didn't quite understand but she didn't speak again not wanting to further put in a spanner in what was happening. When the door finally closed behind them she opened her mouth "Harry—"

Harry looked at her and shook his head. "Not now. Let's go back to the Ministry."

They both kept their own counsel until they were back sooner than expected in the same large conference room as they had occupied this morning. Hermione sat down and Harry went around the table taking the seat facing her.

"I thought you understood that you would remain a silent observer to the questioning."

Hermione folded her arms, more than a little uncomfortable at having made a mistake. "I apologize but clearly, he was not being forthcoming."

"Yes and did your line of questioning help get more information from him?"

"No."

"In fact, it resulted in him becoming completely uncooperative with our efforts. We do not currently have legal means of forcing him to allow us to inspect his ritual space or even to share what remains of the research he was conducting. We are relying on his goodwill which you managed to evaporate with one question."

"I apologize." She repeated not dropping her gaze from the fire in his green gaze. "I did not realize the English law enforcement was so handicapped."

"This investigation has been hindered because you did not follow the agreed protocol."

"It won't happen again."

Harry acknowledged that with a nod, softening a little towards her. "I understand your frustration when it seems someone is not being truthful, but when questioning suspects blunt aggression is almost never the way. They have to believe you are on their side."

"But he's not even our suspect! He's the victim– why not be truthful? Why not show us the ritual space to help us narrow down what came from where?"

"You've heard of the war that happened here haven't you?"

"That was more than twenty years ago though!"

"Many of the witches and wizards in power now fought in that war, the Minister, my father, Gerald Greengrass, Lucius Malfoy. Twenty years ago is nothing to them. A hundred years would be nothing. In this line of work, everyone you question is going to have motives that stretch beyond the situation at hand no matter how dire. Which is why you don't tip your hand."

"What do you mean?"

"The very last way you are going to find out the truth is by letting them know you suspect their answers."

Hermione huffed staring down at the pictures and reports on the conference table between them. She reached out and slid a picture of the wreckage which had some remnant of ritual space toward her. Harry reached out and laid his hand over hers, stopping her movement.

"I asked specifically for you in this assignment because of your background in ritual research and spells. I respect that knowledge and talent. However, I must get the same courtesy from you as the lead on this investigation. I have never not caught my witch or wizard, and this will not be any different."

Hermione's throat was suddenly dry and she swallowed audibly looking into his steely green eyes. Was she just imagining the undertone of that statement? She snatched her hand from under his, taking the picture. "I'm - I'm going to go work."

"It's Saturday. You told me you're trying not to overwork yourself here. Why don't we go get lunch instead?"

Blast, she had completely forgotten what day it was! "I need to go brush my cat."

Harry grinned. "You're kind of hard on my ego, Hermione."

It was hard not to smile back at that face, with his black hair falling rakishly over his forehead. So different from just a second ago when he had let the other in him peek out. Why did he have to be more fascinating the more she learned about him?

Hermione stood and grabbed the rest of the file she had planned on doing further research on. "I'm not here to cater to your ego Auror Potter."

"Pity. I would enjoy it."

Argh. Frustrating man. Hermione slammed out of the conference room ignoring the soft chuckle she heard behind her.

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Even though Harry had invited Hermione back to his flat to pick up her bra, he hadn't quite expected her to take him up on it, especially after how the interview had gone Saturday morning. A smile broke out as he spotted her in front of the entrance to his apartment building early Sunday afternoon.

She was staring away from him down the pavement on the other end as he approached her. "Hermione."

She almost jumped from the pavement into the street at the sound of his voice and he grabbed her to steady her.

"Sorry about that."

Hermione stared up at him with wide eyes her mouth opening and closing like she had been struck with a silencing charm. What a strange reaction. Almost as if she hadn't expected to run into him in front of his own address.

"So you decided to drop by to pick up your—" Her reflexes still worked though Harry thought as her hand clamped over his mouth lightning quick.

"Hermione?" An older couple stood on the other side of them and Hermione paled. "Who is this?"

The man and woman behind her were obviously her parents, her coloring matched the older man while her jawline and her pert nose echoed the woman's features. She was bringing her parents to visit him?

"Mum. Dad. Uh." Hermione still had not turned around to face them and he could practically see the gears in her head frantically turning.

Harry's eyes traveled from her to her parents to the apartment building.

Huh.

He remembered the flummoxed feeling of not being able to catch her as she left his flat.

Because she had never left the bloody building. A slow smile stretched across his face and he helped Hermione move her hand from where it seemed stuck across his mouth. He stuck out his hand towards the other couple while he threw his arm around Hermione's shoulders spinning her around to face her parents.

"Hello. My name is Harry Potter, I work with Hermione at the ministry."

"Oh, that's nice." Her mother said a little uncertainly reaching out to shake his hand tentatively. "Are you visiting her today too?"

Harry gave Hermione a squeeze, ignoring her sharp little elbow digging into his side in retaliation. "Sort of, I didn't realize Hermione had plans and I had wanted her to go with me on a picnic."

The older gentleman reached out to shake his hand after his wife. "Sorry my wife is a little distracted, We don't often get to meet Hermione's friends, my name is Richard Granger, and my wife is Helen."

"Harry was just leaving though," Hermione said with emphasis. "He forgot something at work. Sorry, you couldn't chat, goodbye." She shoved his arm off her shoulders.

"Oh, dear. I'm sorry if we interrupted your plans, honey." Her mother fretted. "We can come another time–"

"Oh of course not Mrs Granger!" Harry said shaking his head. "Family time is important, I'm sure Hermione will come to a picnic with me next week. Besides, Hermione is right I need to run back to work in a bit, but of course, I can walk with you to Hermione's flat– it's so close to mine after all."

"I'm so glad she's found a friend like you! A picnic sounds so nice and oh, you live here too?" Helen asked.

Hermione gave a low groan and it was all Harry could do to keep his face straight and not laugh. "Yes. Isn't funny how things work out?"

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The Greengrass sisters were really beautiful. Daphne Greengrass was tall, with blonde wavy hair that fell just past her waist. She had striking blue eyes and figured out of man's dreams. Her sister was shorter and curvier, her dark hair curlier than her sisters. Both sisters had the same defined bone structure despite the difference in height and coloring, one taking after their father's darker coloring and the other after their mother.

In the picture they held the sisters were younger, smiles wreathing their faces as they twirled in pretty dresses. It was probably before their mother had become sick. Their hand slid over the picture slowly, sadness moving through them.

Fate was capricious, landing her blows repeatedly without care. A tear slid down their cheek and they wiped it away resolutely. All they could do was save those who could be saved.