This is the non-explicit version. For the original story, please visit AO3 - link is in the summary. The plot is the same except for scenes where there is explicit sexual content. I will note when chapters are modified.
Hermione ducked behind a barrel in the shadow of a semi-dilapidated building in Muggle London. Fog was just starting to build and swirl around her legs as she silently kept the shadowy figure ahead in her line of sight. Once a bustling shipyard, in the turn of the century, the area was long abandoned and now it stood silent, the calm only occasionally broken by the creaking of old wood and the soft banging of a loose shutter. Anyone doing business here had good reason to remain in the shadows.
From her hiding spot, she saw the figure remove their wand and cast an unknown spell before quickly dipping into the entryway of the building. Sneaking closer, she felt herself hit the minor nagging sensation that signalled the perimeter of a Muggle-Repelling Charm. The rest of her half-blood team couldn't detect it, but she could. It had come in handy more than a few times, and was often one of the first indicators that someone wanted to avoid prying eyes. She warned her team to be on the lookout for any dangerous protective spells that may be in place.
The types of wizards she was hunting often forgot (or overlooked) that Muggle-borns were able to sense the Muggle-Repelling Charms. They still arrogantly believed that it was impossible for them to be taken down by a Muggle-born like her, and didn't think twice about using the charm. The fact that Dark wizards disdain for witches like her often became a key factor in taking them down gave her a grim satisfaction; she smiled darkly.
Signalling the rest of her team to fall into position around her, she edged along the wall to get closer. She raised her hand in a signal to hold, listening closely to her Muggle earpiece. Since becoming an Auror following the end of the war, Hermione had been gradually introducing Muggle-tech to her fellow Aurors, and over time, they had started to see the benefits. A bluetooth earpiece was much simpler, more reliable, and less obvious than an Extendable Ear. In her early days at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Dean Thomas had given her one for use on a mission and she had laughed until she cried. As she wiped her eyes, she realised he was serious and had apologised profusely. The wizarding world was advanced, in many ways, but the absence of conveniences still surprised her, especially in terms of communications technology. Muggles, however, had multiple forms of instantaneous communications that could fit into your pocket and required much less clean up (owl pellets were disgusting — the main reason she refused to own one). She couldn't wait for the day that other wizards realised the benefits and Muggle technology became more widespread.
Audible through her earpiece, a gruff male voice called out in greeting and her focus returned to the mission. "As promised, a full unicorn horn tea set. The damage I mentioned is just here, but it doesn't affect the overall function."
"This is truly a remarkable find. You said these were from one of the estates?" said another voice. This one was smoother, aristocratic, lightly accented and drawling.
"Course," the gruff voice affirmed. "When things went to shit after the war, the Dark Lord's supporters — those who were smart anyway — left the country without packing their spare robes, leaving the rest of us to hang. At least they left us with some way to make money by digging through their leftovers," he spat out bitterly.
"I bear no ill-feelings towards any who lost their family legacy in the wake of the Dark Lord's fall, though it is regrettable that their actions have made life more difficult for those of us committed to maintaining the old ways." The voice sounded vaguely disinterested.
"Trust me, mate, I'm giving you a deal here. I guarantee you won't find a better price on anything like this, post-war. This could very well be the only set left in existence." He sounded nervous, like he was concerned about losing the sale. "You know, they were quite the sign of high society, especially among the Sacred Twenty-Eight several centuries ago, and this set is really remarkably maintained for its age."
An exacerbated sigh. "I'm not here to barter with you like some weak-blooded wastrel. Don't insult me."
"I'm sorry mate, it's just that after the Reparations, most folks…" There was a beat of silence as the gruff voice trailed off, realising his rambling wasn't helping the situation. "Here's the account number. Thank you and let me know if there's anything in particular you're looking for in the future."
"It's been a pleasure doing business with you."
Hermione gave the signal. Without looking, she knew two Aurors behind her had immediately begun casting an anti-Apparition barrier, something that the seller would notice any moment now. They had a tendency to bugger off quickly once they completed their business.
"Ah, bloody hell!" The gruff voice had a tinge of panic to it.
Yep, right on schedule.
She cast Deprime at the wall on her right, blasting a large hole into the side of the building. The entire area was condemned anyway, and she needed this to be over quickly. Encounters in Muggle London were always high risk, due to the potential for casualties and exposure.
Amid a shower of rotted wood, Hermione stepped into the room, taking in the scene and levelling her wand at her target. The undercover Auror already had his wand drawn and trained on the target as well.
"Excellent work, Courtenay," she complimented the owner of the aristocratic voice.
The young wizard blushed under her praise. The man never so much as broke a sweat while undercover, but as soon as he stepped out of a role, he was easily flustered. Courtenay wasn't a pureblood, but he had a knack for mimicking accents and made a very convincing aristocratic pureblood — something they made use of frequently in their undercover investigative work.
Hermione turned to their target, who was having magical restraints applied to his arms. "Adrian Pucey, you are being arrested for possession and trafficking of Dark Artefacts in violation of Article III of the Diggory Reformation Act. You will be taken into custody and your wand confiscated while you await Wizengamot review in pursuance with Wizarding law."
Pucey looked put out more than anything else as Courtenay relieved him of his wand and checked his restraints in preparation for Apparition.
"I mean honestly," Pucey whinged, "they're more of a problem left out where anyone could nick them in abandoned manors. I'm doing a service if you think about it."
"Save it for the Wizengamot, Pucey." She tuned him out and his protests cut off as Courtenay Apparated them both to the DMLE holding cells.
"Thomas. McCoy," she barked out. "Sweep the area for Muggles and meet me back at HQ. Adams, crack on with the report. I want it on my desk by lunch tomorrow."
Hermione paused for a moment, watching as her team set to work, and basking in the warm feeling of another criminal behind bars. Her team had done bloody marvellous work building this case over the last three months: running down leads on the movement of Dark Artefacts and sending Courtenay in and supporting him while undercover. The arrest of one of her former Slytherin schoolmates was a satisfying culmination of their hard work. Maybe she should just make a list of all the former pureblood Slytherins from her Hogwarts days, and put them under surveillance to save them some time. Pucey hadn't been the first Slytherin she'd arrested, and she was certain he wouldn't be the last.