"Benjamin. Benjamin, wake up," the quiet whispers of Hermione came into audible focus for Benjamin, who had been quite cozy on her plush, cream colored couch. He had enjoyed staying at her apartment with her the past few days; he did not, however, enjoy having to wake up far before the ass crack of dawn.

He rolled over to avoid her gaze in the dark and she shook his arm in return.

"Honestly, I need you to get up and get dressed. Benjamin!"

Ben sat up and turned to her abruptly with tired eyes as wide as a thunderbird's wingspan. He was up and ready to leave within ten minutes, his hair a mess as he waited by the door for Hermione. She had taken the liberty of packing them both a coffee-to-go, asking Benjamin to take down the bags to the chauffeur.

The drive to the Ministry airport was rather quick. The ride was quiet and the workers took on the rest of the heavy lifting. What he thought would be an airport turned out to be only a small airfield just half an hour south of Greater London. Hermione did all of the talking, seemingly knowing most of the faces she spoke to. Benjamin would only shake hands when it was offered. The large jet was bright and lit up on the inside with the small windows revealing an expensive taste in decoration.

The Global Express jet had a Ministry-spin on everything. The exterior was a dark, smoky silver and inside was as dark and modern as one could get. It was borderline new-age gothic. Not to mention the ass load of charms that were placed by the flight force and pilots. Such jets were only prescribed to important Ministry officials.

The flight into the states was far from adventurous in Hermione's eyes — who had decided to catch up on her sleep in the master bedroom — but the excitement of the private jet had tickled Benjamin pink and jeered him from his sleepy daze. He filled up with the sugary sweets and liquored himself up with the tiny bottles in the mini-fridge while enjoying a few of the action movies on the higher-quality television.

They arrived at the Woolworth building, via a private chauffeur, only twelve minutes before eleven that early afternoon; the classic, neo-Gothic skyscraper seeming to loom over the pair of them like a shade cloud. Inside, Benjamin felt insignificant... and even more underdressed. The vaulted ceiling never seemed to end and the marble that made up the walls and columns seemed to emanate a certain respect. The gold, maroons, emeralds, and blacks that made up the color palette were as imposing of Gringotts Wizarding Bank back home.

They followed a gentleman in a black-and-white suit and tie up the marble staircase, through the magical, spinning glass door, and into an elevator that seemed to put those at the British Ministry of Magic to shame. They even played classical elevator music.

Hermione noticed Benjamin fidgeting by re-straightening his clothes and pulling the tiniest of fuzz-balls off his top.

"You look fine," Hermione reassured him in a whisper.

He didn't look at her but he gave a quick nod and crossed his hands in front of him.

The elevator let off a vintage 'ding!' and when the doors opened, it revealed a bustling lobby with cathedral-like ceilings and sconces and floating candles that brilliantly lit up the headquarters.

Benjamin was asked to wait outside as Hermione met with the President of MACUSA. It seemed to be taking forever, and whether that was a good or bad thing he didn't know.

After fifty-five minutes, the door finally opened and out came Hermione, whose face was beaming with excitement as she held up a stack of correlated papers with a very official looking stamp on the front.

"Looks like we're all set."

He trailed behind her as she hiked down the hallway from which they came.

"So, what do we do? Where do we go?"

"That's the exciting yet unfortunate part. According to the information that MACUSA has on file, the breeding rings are ... nomadic. They're aware they're being hunted and because of that, it keeps them on the move. The rings are separate but they're all overseen by the same guy: Micah Pendleton. It's not a very intimidating name so he goes by 'The Boss'."

Benjamin scoffed. "Very original," he paused for a moment. "You know, this is a lot. I mean, we're seriously in another country going after a large group of nature's terrorists. It's kind of crazy. Are we really up for this?"

"Are you?" Hermione retorted mockingly. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't believe I can do it. I can do this. We can do this. I helped take down Voldemort and I risked a lot and I hurt so much. But we gained more than anything. This is what's right, Benjamin, and if you don't want to be a part of it, I understand — but I really wish you would have said something before we crossed the ocean to enter a new country."

He choked down the lump in his throat. "I'm here. I'm with you, whatever you need."

"Good. Thank you," she replied, sounding satisfied. "This is exciting, isn't it?" She said as she turned to him with a light in her eyes and a childish smile.

"It's something."

They arrived at the luxurious Park Hyatt and were surprised to find an entire suite had been reserved for their comfort. A beautiful view of Central Park through the tall windows took the place of any northeast wall they could have had. Benjamin wondered about his privacy in a city with what felt like a billion people. He was thankful for the cab that brought them to the hotel; there's no way he could keep his cool with careless and selfish drivers like the ones in the city that never sleeps.

Benjamin unpacked his belongings in one of the two bedrooms of the suite. He offered the master to Hermione, who had offered it to him. She wasn't sure how long they'd be staying and, though it was work, she wanted him to have the best experience he could before things started to tense up.

As Hermione excused herself for a shower, Benjamin made himself at home in the kitchen. To his surprise, the refrigerator and a few cabinets were readily stocked. He pulled a few ingredients from the cabinets and began prepping the package of pork chops found in the fridge.

While the pork chops sat, he worked on the few sides he could find. All of the staples were American; therefore, the brands themselves were foreign to him (literally) but he knew what he could do with about everything he saw. On the menu was Southern-style chicken-fried pork chops, garlic mashed potatoes, and a dinner roll a piece. Food for the soul.

The door to Hermione's bedroom creaked open. "That smells heavenly." Benjamin looked over to see her in some tight lounge bottoms, a long sleeve shirt, and her wet hair draping over her shoulders. "You're going to love that shower."

"I think there's an extra bathroom." Benjamin replied as he turned the pork chops over in the oil.

"Come on! It has rock walls and a cushioned seat. Don't pass the opportunity for such a heavenly shower."

Benjamin could hardly keep his attention on the food in front of him now that she was here, fresh out of the shower. How easy it would be to walk over and brush his hands against her shoulders as he found his way under her hair to touch her neck. How easy it would be to...-

"Benjamin!"

"Shit!" Benjamin exclaimed. The grease continued to increase in heat as he was daydreaming and had started popping all over the place. He quickly turned the heat down and sighed to himself as he threw his hands behind his head.

Hermione was going through the cabinets under the sink until she pulled out a colorful spray bottle and a wad of paper towels. Benjamin offered his hand out to take the products but she walked right past him.

"It's okay, I've got it," she said as she got on her knees and began spritzing and wiping up the grease. She finished up the counters and allowed Benjamin to continue.

"Thank you. I would have done it," Benjamin said.

"I know — that's why I don't mind." Her face was in a book whose title couldn't be read.

Benjamin finished their lunch and made both of their plates, serving Hermione before himself. She smiled as he sat the steaming plate in front of her and her gaze followed him as he walked to the other end of the table and sat.

"Well, are you going to keep staring at me like some kind of stoner or are you going to eat like one?" That goofy grin of his covered his face. She attempted to hide her own as she began cutting the crispy pork chop.

"It's no wonder you don't have a girlfriend. I imagine you intimidate all the girls with cooking like that."

"I cook, I clean, I work. What can I say? I've decided to just marry myself." Benjamin joked back as he licked the adhesive on the rolling paper and rolled it a bit more. Hermione had watched the process a handful of times. It was pretty straightforward to her, and she noticed sometimes he would drop colorful and aromatic herbs in the mix.

After his smoke, they retired indoors for a bit, lounging on the oversized couch as they studied the new documents they had been given from MACUSA.

"What's the plan?" Benjamin inquired as he fidgeted with his gaming controller while staring at the large tv screen.

"I'm thinking..."

"What a shocker," he replied, the sounds of gunshots and tire screeches coming from the television speakers.

"I have no qualms with you playing your game while we do this, but do you think you can put something on that's a bit quieter? Or, perhaps, not so violent?"

He laughed to himself. "You got it, boss."

She rolled her eyes as he turned the console off before returning next to her on the sofa.

"Here!" Hermione exclaimed excitedly, her finger pointed at one of the printed papers. "It seems that New York is one of their import and export hubs. It's the only one MACUSA is aware of, hence why they are still operating. But, rumor has it that there may be another one south. It says Florida, Louisiana, or Texas."

"This one here," she flipped to the next page, "states that a convoy of some sort, probably transporting from port to port, usually passes through every few weeks." Hermione paused for a moment. Benjamin watched her face scrunch up in her concentration. "We can't sit and wait."

"I agree," said Benjamin. He leaned closer towards Hermione and the map. As he traced lines on the map with his tawny fingers, she would breathe in the smell of his cologne from earlier that morning. Her eyes started to flutter before the cool and smooth voice of Benjamin brought her back to reality. "Just so we don't miss anything, I think we should go south into New Orleans anyways. Assuming we don't find what we need, we cut straight west and can head to Texas. So there's New Orleans and Baton Rouge in Louisiana. Houston and Dallas in Texas — maybe Amarillo but Amarillo could be a stretch. If we're talking exporting to other countries, further south might be the better option. Miami, maybe? I still think New Orleans could be a good start." Benjamin gave Hermione a light pat on the shoulder before lifting himself off the couch. "You hungry?"

Hermione scoffed. "We just ate not three hours ago."

Ben turned his back on the young woman as he began lining the counters with a multitude of ingredients. He paused for a moment, unmoving, before turning quickly on his heels and facing the witch on the couch.

"Sun's down, Hermione. I'm hungry and want a drink. I'm about to turn on some music so I'd put that away if I were you," Benjamin told her as he was already thumbing the controls on his iPod. He held it up to her. "A little help?" Ben asked. She smirked and muttered an incantation that seemed to place invisible speakers around the entire suite, allowing Creep by TLC to fill the kitchen. Benjamin began nodding his head to the music while he prepped the ingredients and Hermione moved to the bar stool at the counter to observe.

After a few minutes, Hermione figured her night could do well with a bit of alcohol as well. She poured margaritas (something she hadn't tried before Benjamin) and watched as the man in the kitchen cooking food became a different person. When he wasn't being serious performing a task or working, Benjamin Hendrix was strikingly vibrant and beguiling.

Soon, the beating intro to Because Of You by Ne-Yo bumped through the faux speakers. Benjamin sang along, nailing the changing pitches and vibrato. He could feel Hermione watching him so to break the rising tension, she watched as he began singing to her while dancing around the kitchen like Michael Jackson.

"You're fun," Hermione told him with a smile, feeling loose and confident from her second margarita. Ben was plating the warm, delectable food. Their late dinner consisted of Benjamin's rendition of 'Italian sandwiches': basil pesto on ciabatta with grilled chicken, provolone, grilled artichoke, fried red peppers, and a topping of garlic black truffle sauce.

Benjamin placed the white plate in front of Hermione. The amount of alcohol she ingested must have eaten through all the food they had nearly four hours prior. Hermione stared hungrily at the plate before her but waited for Benjamin to sit next to her with his own. She watched his hands as they fiddled around his area, straightening up his glass and napkin before tearing into his panini like a wild animal.

Hermione followed suit, quickly shooting him a glare as the savory flavors coated her taste buds. After she swallowed her first bite she said, "Why must you do this to me?"

Benjamin chuckled. "Eating out a lot hurts my stomach ... aaand my bank account. I had to learn to survive the old fashioned way." He paused for a moment, setting his half-eaten sandwich on the crumb-covered plate. "Want to hear a secret?" Hermione nodded as she swallowed a mouthful of food.

"I like to cook, I really do. I know I'm good at it, and that's cool. But when I was staying with Molly Weasley, well, I came to find that I loved, um, baking. Breads, cupcakes and muffins, biscuits, cookies — the list goes on. It's like... Muggle alchemy for the soul. You take all of these things and with a bit of love and precision, well, magic is created."

"So, you consider yourself an alchemist of baked goods?" Hermione teased harmlessly. To her satisfaction, Ben chuckled quietly at her remark.

"Among other things, sure."

They finished their plates and Hermione did the dishes as Benjamin showered himself. They hung out in the living area long enough to finish half of a movie before Hermione fell asleep on the couch. After the movie, Ben covered her with a blanket and retired to his room for the night.

The following morning, Hermione awoke to light rustling in the kitchen.

"I'm sorry. I was trying to be quiet."

She noticed Benjamin was fully dressed and looked like he was on his way out.

"Where are you going?"

The dark sunglasses hid his eyes as he spoke softly to her. "I was just going out for breakfast. I didn't want to wake you."

Hermione checked the balcony door and noticed the orange and pinks of the morning sunrise. "What time is it?"

"A bit before seven. Do you want me to pick something up?"

"Do you mind if I go with?" Hermione already had her bare foot placed on the cool floor as she sat up from the couch. Her hair was a mess and this caused a smile to creep across Ben's face.

"I can wait."

Ben sat in the reclining chair as he patiently waited for Hermione to get dressed. She briskly brushed her teeth, washed her face, and brushed out her bed head before changing into a pair of blue jeans and a plain mauve shirt. On the streets, she'd look ordinary and not much would distinguish her from anyone else — but to Benjamin, she was becoming increasingly beautiful and her aura was difficult to resist. He'd take whatever time he could get with her.

The pair of them made it to a coffee shop down the street from their hotel. It was empty with only a handful of round tables. The aroma of coffee and baked treats filled Hermione and Benjamin's senses.

They ordered their breakfast (Benjamin ordered an almond-covered bear claw and for Hermione, a cherry and cream cheese kolache) and coffee and sat next to the window, taking in their last sights of New York City in peace.

"I'm glad we're leaving," Benjamin piped up, breaking the few minutes of silence. "If I had a bucket list of places I wanted to see, New York City would be far from thought."

Hermione smirked. "I don't mind it myself. It's lively." Benjamin scoffed.

"Hectic, more like."

Back at the hotel, Hermione was packing her things when Benjamin came across something interesting.

"Uh, Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"We're not going to New Orleans."

The map they had been using, along with a few loose notes, was laid out on the kitchen counter. Hermione stood on her tip toes, attempting to peep over his shoulders.

"Why not?"

"Because what we want... who we're looking for, they're not there. We'd be better off hitting Miami. The smart move is hiding behind a crime-infested city with coastal access. Easier to move product, for lack of better words."

While they were friends, Benjamin was technically her escort. It was in her best interest to trust him, to trust that he wouldn't lead them the wrong way.

"Okay, so, Miami, then?"

Benjamin simply nodded before organizing the papers and folding up the map. "Are you almost ready?"

"I am, actually."

With their bags in hand, they checked out at the front counter and hopped on the first bus out. They'd make a stop in Atlanta and catch another bus, but during the late afternoon, Hermione would place her head on Benjamin's shoulder for a quick power nap. To him, it was a bliss he didn't know he was missing.