The room stank of blood. Her hands were coated with it. Hermione could see
corpses littered liberally around the room. Most of them were Death Eaters,
their Dark Marks still glowing on pale skin. It gave her hope. But Harry,
the-boy-who-lived, was nowhere to be seen. Sometime during his fight with
Voldermort, he must have left the room. “Avada Ked--” she heard the voice of
evil scream at the top of his lungs.

“Hermione. Hermione! Wake up!” She opened her eyes. “Have you been here all
night?” Will, the janitor, asked.

She looked at her watch, it was a little after 11:00 PM. “This is hardly all
night, Will. I just had some extra work to catch up on.”

“And your monitor just happened to be behind your eyelids?” He smiled. “Get
out of here. Go break some innocent blokes heart.”

She stood up and stretched. Her back hurt from sitting in an uncomfortable
position for too long. Ejecting the disk from her computer she picked up her
bag. “No broken hearts tonight, Will. Just sleep.” She walked out of the office,
not seeing Will’s wistful glance after her.

James King, the night security guard bid her goodnight as she got off the
lift. “’Nother long night?” He asked.

“It’s how I do things.” She pushed opened the door and walked into the cold
London night. As she walked to the nearest tube station she threw her disk into
a trash can a block away from the office. After a ten minute tube ride she was
at her flat.

As she walked in, her flat mate, Alissa said, “Where have you been?” She took
stock of Hermione’s suit. “The office?” Hermione nodded. “All this time?”

“I fell asleep. Will woke me up.” She put her bag down and took her suit
jacket off.

Alissa smiled. “Will? He fancies you.”

“No, he doesn’t. He looks out for me.” Walking into the kitchen she grabbed a
banana. Peeling it, she asked. “So, where are you going tonight?”

“New club, new bloke. He’s young, rich, attractive, and upwardly mobile. What
more could a girl ask for?” She twirled around in her new little black dress.
“Do you like it?”

“You look delectable. How much did it cost you?”

“Oh, ‘Mione, you’re too practical. If I’m lucky, my date will fall madly in
love, or at least passionate lust with me, and I won’t have to worry about
paying for a long time.” She smiled, somehow it came off as wistful and scheming
at the same time. Alissa was that sort of girl.

“Or fall in passionate lust with you, you’ll have one wondrous night of
monkey love, and he’ll be gone before you wake up.” She sat down on a stool.

“That sounds almost as good.” There was a knock at the door. “That’s him. I
look good?”

“Great.”

She started for the door. “Wait, you answer it. He won’t get the full effect
of the dress if I answer the door.” He knocked again. “I’ll go into the other
room and you can call me, alright? Good.”

Smiling, Hermione shook her head. Alissa was strange, even for a muggle. When
she opened the door, her smile turned into a scowl. “What are you doing
here?”

Malfoy smiled. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” He said it like he hadn’t
hated her for more than ten years.

Making her voice pleasant, she said, “Please come in, Alissa is just doing
her secret female rituals.” She opened the door and stepped to the side.
“Alissa!”

“Drake! You look great, ready?” She walked into the room and hooked her hand
on his arm. “Don’t wait up.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” After Hermione shut the door, she hit it. “Get a
grip,” she said to herself. You have work to do.

Alissa’s room doubled as a home office. Though the muggle liked to party a
lot, she had a work ethic that even Hermione respected. The laptop was situated
on a card table that, though neat, looked ready to fall over at any moment.
There wasn’t a stray paper in sight. Everything was in file folders, or computer
files.

For the first time in her life, Hermione thanked Draco Malfoy. It was the
first chance she’d had since moving in to go through Alissa’s business files.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything neatly labeled, “Top Secret Company
Materials.” The only folder that even remotely stuck out was plain looking
except for a tiny black sticker. Inside were reviews of employees up for
promotion. Hermione had a review in it. But that wasn’t what she was looking
for. She turned to the computer.

She hadn’t concerned herself with learning much more than typing during
school. But she’d graduated from Hogwarts over five years before. In her line of
work it was important to be able to get into muggle things the muggle way. She
could pick locks, hack into computers, use muggle cameras, and use muggle
torches as well as any muggle. The fact that she’d been a muggle for eleven
years of her life helped a lot.

SecureCo’s computers were bound to be harder to hack into than others. She
couldn’t use any magical shortcuts, it was part of their system. Somehow,
SecureCo had managed to make a security system that couldn’t be magically
tampered with. Any magic intentionally used on it sent up dozens of red flags.
It was her job to find out how they’d done it, and, if possible, destroy the
technology. Since it was still only used on company property, she had a chance
to sabotage it. If she missed her chance, all she had to do was give the
information to her employers, they would take care of the problem.

Once she got into Alissa’s computer files, she looked for something like:
Anti-Magic System. There wasn’t even anything named system specs. The computer was wirelessly hooked up to one of the company’s servers. There was nothing there, either. Which meant, as Hermione suspected but hoped against, that the company kept all of it’s important files in house.

Her work was done for the night. Or morning as the case was. If she went
straight to sleep, she’d get 6 hours. It sounded wonderful.

Hermione opened her eyes. The room was still dark. It was 4 AM. Though she’d
only been asleep for three hours, she wasn’t tired anymore. Dreams of Ron’s
death only lead to worse nightmares. She stood up, put on her robe, and walked
to the kitchen.

Alissa was sitting at the breakfast table drinking a cup of tea. “The waters
still hot,” she said, pointing to the stove. Hermione nodded. Alissa never asked
questions about Hermione’s strange sleeping tendencies. It was her best
characteristic.

“So, how did the date go?”

“Alright, I suppose,” she put her cup down. “He was nice, but a little to
strange for me. He wasn’t on his mobile at all. The entire night. Can you
imagine that? And he always looked at me when I talked to him. Like he was
listening.”

Hermione was lost. “And these are bad things?”

“If he wasn’t on his mobile, that means he isn’t important enough to get
calls at all hours. And if he’s not getting calls at all hours, how do I know
he’s really working so much. His attention was just creepy. He’s so
intense. And if he’s that intense after one date, I shudder to think what
could happen after more.” She picked her cup back up and took a sip.

“Then I suppose it’s good that you don’t develop anything with a stalker. It
would be horrible for you to end up with a man who cares about you enough to not
be interrupted on your dates, and who pays attention to you.” Hermione sipped
her tea.

“I’m glad you agree. It’s time for bed, I’m going to sleep. I’ll see you at
work.”

“Night.” Hermione knew it would be impossible for her to go to sleep again.
‘Life was so much easier at Hogwarts.’ She gave a little laugh at that.
Life hadn’t really been easier in school. Good and evil were just more strictly
defined.

She walked back into her room and grabbed a tattered old notebook. Walking
back to the kitchen, she sat at the table and started writing:

Due to the high-tech nature of muggle computer systems, I was not able to
access the system from here. When given the first opportunity, I will access the
information from my station inside the company.

She closed the notebook and opened to the page she’d been writing on. It was
blank. The device, called an Informant, was like the wizard’s version of e-mail.
When one wrote in one of the books, it appeared in a separate, matching book.
It’s first use was for gathering information from spies in the medieval days of
war. Now it was used by spies for other purposes.

As the sun rose, Hermione set out from the flat for a run around her area of
the city. Though she hadn’t been known for her athletic prowess in school,
things had changed. Her line of work had her running from the bad guys on
occasion, and a slow runner was a dead runner in her life. After running a
little more than five miles, she returned to the flat.

It was 7:30, Alissa, of course, was still asleep. Hermione got ready for work
and left again. As she was walking out the door, she heard Alissa get out of
bed. Alissa didn’t bother to mutter about her hate of mornings, she said it out
loud so Hermione received to full benefit of her wrath.

When she arrived at her office she was surprised to see the flames flicking
out of the third story windows. The people who had been inside were evacuated
and standing on the street. No one was hurt. Hermione asked one of her
colleagues what happened.

“There was a fire,” the man said, stating the obvious. “Something to do with
faulty wiring I think. It started in a file storage room, destroyed
everything.”

One of the executives asked everyone to gather round. “Because of this
accident, the building will be closed for the next week. All employees have been
given that time off, with full pay.”

Hermione didn’t bother to rejoice. She knew what Malfoy was after. The
question was, did he get it, and if so, who was he working from. And, did he
destroy all of the information on it?

She didn’t have any idea.

Alissa was walking down the hall when Hermione arrived at the flat. “Don’t
bother going to work today,” she said. “There was a fire and we all have the
week off.”

“Wonderful,” Alissa replied. “I’m going back to sleep.” They both walked back
into the flat. Alissa went into her room. When Hermione was sure that she was
asleep, she grabbed the Informant and wrote:

There was a fire at the main offices today. All of the paper files were
destroyed. I do not know if any files of the security system still exist. There
is a high probability that there are files in the computers. Because of the fire
all employees have one week off, I will be visiting a colleague in Switzerland
to gain more information.

She closed the book and hid it. Grabbing a bag and tossing clothes into it
she smiled. It had been to long since she’d seen her
friend.

Harry Potter lived in Switzerland. It wasn’t a widely known fact, only his closest friends and a few colleagues knew his address. After the fall of Voldermort he’d become somewhat of a recluse. He had, however, made a fortune on a book detailing how the Order of the Phoenix had worked to bring down the dark lord. His book, unlike those of the infamous fraud Gilderoy Lockhart, did not focus solely on his actions against Voldermort. He made it clear that the dark lord never would have been defeated if it weren’t for a strong resistance. He’d
dedicated the book to all of the people who’d died fighting Voldermort, past and present.

Harry’s house was in the foothills of the Alps, about forty miles outside of
Zurich. When she apparated on his doorstep, Harry was surprised, to say the
least. “Hermione!” he said, hugging her tightly, “What are you doing here?”

She returned his hug. “I came to see you, silly. I have the week off. I’m not
intruding, am I?”

“No, come inside,” he pulled on her arm. “You’re staying the whole week?”

“If I don’t wear out my welcome before then.” As always, when walking into
Harry’s house she was amazed by the beautiful view. There was a wall of windows
parallel to the entrance. She sighed quietly, “It’s so magnificent here.”

“Yeah,” he smiled wistfully. “And it’s completely isolated.”

Hermione let the comment drop. She’d told Harry many times that he needed to
experience life, not stay in his house like a hermit. But every time she brought
up the argument he said, someday. She didn’t tell him that sometimes someday
didn’t come. He knew it well enough. “So is my usual room occupied, or can I
sleep in there?”

“I would make the queen herself change rooms if you said the word.” They
walked together to Hermione’s room to drop off her bags.

“So,” Hermione asked while they were sitting on a sofa enjoying the view,
“Have you written any other manuscripts?”

He was silent for a moment, “It’ll be five years to the day tomorrow. Five
years since I murdered Voldermort.”

Hermione moved to sit closer to him, putting her arm around his shoulder, she
said, “You didn’t murder him.”

“He’s dead, I killed him. That’s murder.”

“No, it’s not. You had no malicious intent. You were defending yourself,
saving the world. I’m not going to say you didn’t kill him, you know as well as
I do that you did. But it wasn’t murder. He was the murderer.”

He leaned against her chest. “And I’m the killer.”

“If you’re a killer,” she whispered, “Then, so am I.”

Neither of them said anything for a long time. Then, as the sun set, Harry
said, “I do have an idea for another book.”

Hermione didn’t stop looking at the sun as it fell below the mountains. “What
is it?”

“The rise of Voldermort. He’s tried to kill me so many times, maybe I should
write a book about it instead of the side notes in Fall of the Dark
Lord.” He looked up at her face. “What do you think?”

She looked at him. “It sounds like a best seller. What will you call it?” she
smiled. “The Rise of the Dark Lord?”

“Well, it does have that ominous ring to it.” He laughed a little. “Who’d
have thought that Voldermort, of all people, would be the reason for my
success?”

“It does make sense.” She scooted in her seat a little. “Maybe you could make
it a series. He gave you enough material.”

“A series?” Harry sat up, leaving the comfort of Hermione’s arm. “An
autobiographical series?”

“Think about it. Every year, for seven years, and when you were a baby, he
attacked you. Write it out a year at a time, revolving around your time at
Hogwarts. Tell it as a story, not history.” They sat for hours, talking about
the pros and cons of writing it in seven books. Before they even started
reminiscing about their school days, Hermione yawned. “I’m beat,” she said. “Can
we talk about this later?”

“I’m tired too.” They walked to their rooms, “’Night, Mione,” he said.

“Goodnight.”

When Hermione woke up the sun was already out. She walked downstairs, looking
for Harry. He was outside, looking at the mountains. “Five years today,” he said
when she opened the sliding glass door to the porch.

She was standing behind him, looking at his mop of black hair. “I miss him so
much,” she said quietly.

“Voldermort?”

Her lips moved, forming a half smile, “You know who.”

Harry turned around, “Ginny’s coming over today. She usually does.” He walked
past her, back into the house. “C’mon, let me make you some breakfast.”

Hermione followed him, “Since when can you cook?”

“Alright, let my cook make us some breakfast,” he smiled.

She shook her head, “Harry Potter with a staff, who would have thought?”

He shoved her in the shoulder, laughing a little. “I’m rich, hero-man, I
need a staff, how else would I remember to get dressed every
morning?”

Hermione raised an eyebrow, “I’m not even going to touch that one.”

A few hours later, Ginny apparated in. They spent their time together
ignoring the date and catching up with each other.

Ginny helped her brothers in their joke shop. She’d even developed a few of
the products they were now selling.

Neither Ginny nor Harry knew what Hermione’s real job was, and though it hurt
to lie to her friends, she couldn’t tell them. “And how are things at the
Ministry going?” Ginny asked.

“Same old, same old. When I took the job, I never realized how much paper
work was involved.” She shook her head, “I’m on vacation, let’s not talk about
work.”

Ginny stayed for two days. In that time, she and Harry spent a lot of time
alone together. After she left, Hermione asked, “You love her, don’t you?”

He looked at her for a long moment. “How did you know?” He finally said.

“You’re my best friend, how could I not know?” She shrugged, “And, it’s a
girl thing.”

“I think I’ve loved her for a while now. I just don’t know how to tell her,”
he sat, slouching on the sofa. “Someday I’ll get the courage.”

“Harry, I’ve told you this so many times. Someday doesn’t always come.” She
sat down and closed her eyes, remembering Ron’s final moments. “Ron told me he
loved me right before he died.” She opened her eyes and looked at Harry. “If we
hadn’t been waiting for someday, we would have been together, in love, before
the battle.”

“You never told me.”

“I don’t know why. But don’t let it come down to that with Ginny. Tell her.
Go now, and tell her.”

“What if she doesn’t want me?” He sounded desperate.

“At least you’ll know.” She stood up. “Please tell her.”

“And just leave you here?”

“I have other things I can do, Harry.” She walked to the stairs.

“Bye, Mione,” Harry said, and apparated away. Hermione smiled. Once her bag
was packed she apparated into the alley next to her building.

She got inside and looked at the clock. It was a little after ten PM. There
was a note from Alissa on the table in the kitchen. She said she was out of town
until Friday. It was Wednesday. Hermione went into her room and opened the
Informant. There were no messages. She put it back in her bag, lay down, and
went to sleep.

There was a crash somewhere in the flat. It was three AM and Alissa wasn’t
home. Hermione got out of bed and went to investigate. The front door was
closed, but she could hear footsteps in Alissa’s room. Wand drawn, she walked
in. Draco Malfoy was searching through Alissa’s things obviously looking for
information. “She took her computer with her, Malfoy,” Hermione said, pointing
her wand at the floor. “There’s no pertinent information in her paper
files.”

Malfoy stood up and scowled. “And how would you know that,
Granger?”

“Because I went through everything four days ago. I take it the fire was your
work?” He nodded. “Nicely done, but everything wasn’t destroyed.”

“You sure are a fount of knowledge. And I am perfectly aware that everything
wasn’t destroyed.” He walked to the door. When he got there they were standing
face to face. He was about four inches taller than her.

She looked up and met his eyes. “Why should I let you through?”

“I eat girls like you for breakfast.” He pushed her aside, but she hit the
door. “Move, Granger.”

“Stay out of my way, Malfoy. This is my mission. So crawl back to
whatever gutter you came from, and tell your employer that you couldn’t complete this assignment.” She stepped back to let him through.

He smiled and didn’t move. “Didn’t you know,” his smirk got bigger, “We’re
working for the same people.” He walked out of the flat before Hermione could
respond. Hermione shook her head, trying to convince herself that he was lying.
It couldn’t be the truth. Draco Malfoy would never work for the good guys. And
if his words weren’t a sick joke, then Hermione was working for the bad
guys.

She needed answers. She just didn’t know where to begin
looking.

Hermione went back to work on Monday. The offices smelled of fresh paint and dry wall. Since only the paper records were destroyed none of the furniture was replaced. Her desk smelled like smoke but showed no outward signs of damage. After lunch one of the executives came to see her. “Miss Granger,” he said, “Come with me please.” She stood up and followed him. Mr. Andrews expected to be obeyed. He led her to a conference room. There was a long table with two seats at the ends and four on each side.

“Miss Granger, we’d like to offer you a promotion.” Hermione hid her smile and acted surprised. It was company policy to not inform people when they were up for promotion. Supervisors could observe employees who didn’t know to be on their best behavior; it usually insured that the people in higher positions in the company deserved to their jobs.

“If you choose to take the position,” he said, “You will be working from another of our London locations in our Research and Development Division.”

“Research and Development?” It was exactly what she’d been angling for.

“You show a strong aptitude for R and D. So, would you like the job?”

“I’m flattered, sir. I couldn’t say no.”

Mr. Andrews smiled, “Excellent,” he handed her a business card. “Report to this address at 9 A.M. tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” She took the card, the address looked familiar, but she couldn’t place it. Mr. Andrews stood up and left her alone in the room. Hermione smiled and left. She gathered her few personal items from the desk and was out of the office by 5:01. In celebration Hermione picked up a cappuccino on her way to the tube station.

When she got back to the flat she wrote in the Informant:

I’ve received a promotion. I will be working near the device in Research and Development.

She closed the Informant and opened a book about the spy system in the first war against Voldermort.

Alissa didn’t get home until about seven. “Do you have plans tonight?” she asked.

“Not really, why?” Hermione had planned to continue her book, in private, of course.

“I’m taking you out in celebration.”

“I hope you mean a nice quiet dinner and maybe a movie.”

Alissa smiled, “You need to learn to have a little fun, we’ll leave at nine. It’s a little bit of a ride.” Alissa left the room, leaving no space for arguments. Muggle Hermione wouldn’t have said no anyway, it just wasn’t like her.

By ten to nine Hermione was ready in a short, but modest, burgundy dress. Alissa wasn’t ready until after 9:15. They walked as briskly as their heels would carry them to the tube station. The club was thirty minutes away. At times like that, sitting in the tube, squished in between workaholics and alcoholics, Hermione wished she hadn’t taken her job. “We’re working for the same people.” She heard Malfoy say.

No one, not even Harry, knew what she did. Her employer made sure she knew that secrecy, even with the famous Harry Potter, was of the utmost importance. It made sense five years ago. Now it seemed like an attempt to isolate her from her old life. She couldn’t be working for the same people as Malfoy, he was bad, she was good, that simple. But he’d succeeded in planting a seed of doubt.

“Hermione! Come on, this is our stop.” Alissa was pulling on Hermione’s arm. “You were a million miles away.”

Hermione smiled, “I was just thinking about work.”

“No, no,” Alissa was shaking her head, “None of that tonight.” Five minutes from the station they got in line at the club. Alissa turned to Hermione, a guilty look on her face. “This was a setup.”

For a second, Hermione couldn’t speak. Then she realized that Alissa wasn’t talking about spies or work, “What?”

“You remember that guy I went out with a while ago?”

“The stalker? Drake Something-or-other?”

“Draco Malfoy, Drake’s just a nickname. Yeah, him.”

Hermione almost laughed, “You set me up with a stalker?” Or an evil dark wizard whose hated me for over ten years?

“Maybe I was exaggerating a bit when I said stalker.” They were let into the club. The music was so loud that Hermione almost couldn’t hear Alissa when she yelled, “He’s not bad really, just not right for me. He seems like your type.” Hermione almost laughed, but she suppressed it. There were tables off to the side of the dance floor. Malfoy was standing at one of them. “Just give him a chance, please?”

She really had no choice. “The minute he starts to act like a stalker, I’m leaving.” They walked to Malfoy’s table.

“Draco, this is Hermione Granger,” Alissa said, beaming, “Hermione, Draco Malfoy.”

Hermione held out her hand, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Draco.” It was difficult to say his first name.

Instead of shaking her hand, he kissed it, Alissa giggled. Hermione barely suppressed a shudder. “The pleasure is all mine.”

“Oy! Alissa!”

“That’s my friend Tony,” said Alissa. “Have fun,” and she was gone.

“What are you thinking, Granger?” There was no malice in his voice.

Her lips curled in a tight smile, “I’m trying to figure out which god I’ve angered. It’s the only explanation I can come up for this situation.” She shook her head. “Were you tricked into this, or are you here on purpose?”

“You won’t believe me either way. But it actually was a trick. I won’t pretend that I want to be here, at least not with you,” he looked at his muggle watch, “How long do you think we have to pretend to be enjoying ourselves?”

“No more than an hour I should think.” She sat down at one of the stools. “How about you get us some drinks?” He looked like he would say no for a moment, but he turned to go to the bar. “Just a bottle of water for me.” She didn’t know if he heard her, or if he was listening.

Several minutes later he came back carrying two bottles of water. He put one down in front of her and sat on the stool on the other side of the table. They said nothing, both drinking their water. It turned into a very long staring contest. “Alissa’s coming this way,” Draco finally said.

Hermione brightened, “So, have you seen that new movie?” She shook her head, “I can’t remember the title. There’s a girl and she goes around,” Alissa tapped her on the shoulder. “Could you hold on a minute, Draco?” He nodded. She got up and walked a few steps away from the table. “What?”

“You two have been sitting and talking for the past twenty minutes! Go, dance, have some fun. Just don’t be so boring.” Alissa walked away before Hermione could say anything. She went back to the table.

“Care to dance?” she asked Malfoy. The look of shock was evident on his face. “It’s part of the Muggle mating ritual,” she explained. “Boy and girl exchange minimal speech, and then they do a public rendition of clothed sex, followed by the real thing in private. Luckily we only need to do step on and two.”

Draco blinked his eyes once, then again. It was like he was seeing Hermione for the first time. At least, it looked that way. Then he smirked, “Well, Granger. I never knew you had it in you.” He stood up and led her to the dance floor.

Just as they were about to dance, a slow song came on. Hermione let out an ironic laugh. Putting her head on his shoulder and swaying to the music, she said, “If the people at Hogwarts could see us now.” He, too, chuckled. As they swayed together on the floor, the usual observer would only see two people dancing together, they may have been complete strangers, or madly in love. It wasn’t readily apparent that they were neither strangers nor lovers, but enemies. After enough extremely tense had time passed, Hermione said, “Let’s go.”

Once they were outside Hermione was ready to part ways, but Malfoy asked, “Isn’t it usual on these Muggle mating rituals, was it, for the man to escort the woman home? We wouldn’t want to blow your cover.” Hermione nodded reluctantly. She followed him to his car. “It’s completely Muggle. I can’t even use magic to control it.”

“Poor baby.” Hermione sat in the seat and stared out at London as it flew by in a blur. A song played on the radio.

“I know how to hurt, I know how to heal. I know what to show, And what to conceal. I know when to talk, And I know when to touch, No one ever died from wanting to much.”

She didn’t listen intently until she heard:

“People like us, Know how to survive. There’s no point in living, If you can’t feel alive. We know when to kiss, And we know when to kill If we can’t have it all, Then nobody will.”

They arrived at her building. There was a light on in her flat. “Damn, Alissa’s home.” And she was looking out the window. Hermione unbuckled her seat belt and leaned over towards Malfoy. Her lips were next to his ear, but she said nothing.

However, he said, “See you around.” She got out of the car, trying desperately not to shake her head. Draco Malfoy would always be a prat. No doubt about it.

When she reached her door Alissa already had it opened. “So,” she asked, “How was it?”

“I’m really tired,” she said, “Can we talk about it some other time.” Before Alissa could object she walked to her room. Opening the Informant, she read:

An operative is already in that department. You will work as a team to finish this assignment.

Her employers were careful to never name names in the Informant. If the wrong wizard got a hold of it, and knew how to break through the security charms, the entire organization was at stake.

Hermione woke on the verge of tears. It was already 7:30, but she wasn’t worried about time. She forsook her run and got ready leisurely. Once she was ready in her light gray business suit she set out. By the time she got to her new office it was nearly 8:50. She finally knew why the address had seemed so familiar, it was two doors down from the Leaky Cauldron. No wonder the company knew about magic.

Once she was inside the secretary directed her to a lift. The lift took her three levels down. A supervisor greeted her when she arrived at the right place. “Miss Granger,” he said, “Welcome to sublevel 3. We work in groups of two here, it makes the place friendlier and more efficient. Let me introduce you to your partner and then I’ll explain what you’ll be doing.”

The cheerful man led her to a desk, another desk was across from it. They were touching. A blond man was sitting there, her partner. “We’re working for the same people.” Malfoy had said.

Why did he have to be right?

“Have you already met?” Her cheerful supervisor asked.

Malfoy answered for her, “We just met last night.” He didn’t stand up. As he leaned back in his chair, Hermione tried to think of a time when she’d seen a more arrogant posture. She wanted to slap him, but Hermione-the-Muggle didn’t hate Draco-the-Muggle, she stuffed her hands in her pockets.

“Wonderful! Why don’t you take a seat, Miss Granger?” Hermione sat down. The supervisor explained that she and Malfoy would be testing some of the newest computer software. When he finally walked away Hermione glared at Malfoy.

“What? Didn’t believe me, did you?” He raised an eyebrow. She said nothing. “We’re partners now, Granger, don’t seem so angry about it.”

She leaned forward and snapped, “Why are you so happy about this?”

She didn’t get her answer. Just then a man walked up to her desk. “Hello,” he said offering a hand, “My name is Julian Vaughn. I just waned to welcome you to this cozy little basement.”

Hermione shook his hand wondering why everyone was so friendly, “Hermione Granger.”

“Beautiful name for a beautiful woman,” she heard Malfoy choke. “Care to grab a coffee with me after work?”

“Sounds great.”

Julian smiled broadly, “Smashing,” he said and walked away.

“Smashing, just smashing,” Malfoy muttered. “Beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

“Jealous?” Hermione asked.

“Of you? Ha!”

“Of him, unless of course you swing that way, in which case I completely understand.” Malfoy choked on the water he was drinking.

“You really must learn how to swallow.”

They worked for a few hours trying to break through the security measures on the computer software. “How are you doing?” Malfoy asked around one.

“It’s a good system,” she said.

“Let’s grab lunch,” he stood up.

Lunch with a vampire sounded better, even if she were the meal. But she stood up and followed Malfoy. They said nothing as the lift took them to the lobby. They walked two doors down. “Are you daft?” she said as Malfoy was about to step into the Leaky Cauldron. “If wizards we know see us together they’ll suspect something, especially given your…alleged alliances.”

“I was never convicted, and no one will see us.” He led her inside. They sat in a shady booth. Malfoy took his wand out and muttered an incantation. Hermione looked shocked, “What?”

“That’s a very difficult and subtle charm. I didn’t know you had the skill or power to use it.” Grudging respect showed in her eyes.

“My…alleged associates demanded power and the skill to use it. My skill with charms, among other things, is simply the product of their demands.” He shrugged.

“That’s a lot to tell me, especially since I didn’t ask a question.” She crossed her arms, “How much will it cost me, and when do you expect me to pay?”

“The price?” She nodded. He seemed to think for a moment. “When it comes to our…association…trust me.” He said, “I, of course, shall do the same for you. It should make this project run smoothly.”

“I have never, in the twelve years I have known you, felt that there was any possibility for trust between us. Why should I start now?”

He smirked, “Because now we’re colleagues. This is a dangerous job. Do you even know what happened to the last person they sent in?” Hermione shook her head. “He disappeared; presumed dead. Do you want to be next?”

“I won’t dignify that with an answer.”

“Then do you trust me enough to work with me? No matter what my personal feelings are, I’ll try to not get you killed.”

“Comforting, really.” She took a deep breath, let it out, “You turn on me, I turn on you, got it? And don’t think I’m too good to do it.”

He grinned, “Keep talking like that and we may be more than just business partners.” Hermione stood up, disgusted. “Listen, Granger, I’m sorry, sit down. We still have a few minutes before we have to be back.”

“Fine, but only because this is much more important than either of us.” She sat down. “We need to find out where they keep their files on the system, and the prototype. My guess is that they have a top security server somewhere in the building. Not sublevel 3. They own the whole building, yes?”

“Right. The third and fourth floor are offices. There is a cafeteria on the second. You’ve seen the lobby, the only other thing on that floor is the toilets. Sublevel Two and Three are the main research and development areas. Sublevel One is off limits to anyone without clearance.”

“You could have just said that our information is probably one Sublevel One.”

He smirked, “I could have, but on those muggle spy shows they tell every last detail, it usually helps them escape.”

She rolled her eyes, “That’s for plot development so the people watching know where things are. You watch the telly?”

“It passes the time. Have you seen what they call magic?”

Hermione was uncomfortable with the sudden friendly turn in the conversation. “We should go back, they’ll missing us soon.”

When they arrived back there were stacks of paper on there desks. One of the papers was labeled diagnostics. She divided the stack in half. Each of the smaller piles was a foot and a half thick.

“Maybe we’ll finish before next year,” said Malfoy.

Hermione smirked, “Too much for you, Malfoy?”

“It was a joke, Granger, you do know what that is?”

They lapsed into silence.

Later Julian came looking for her. “Are you ready?”

She looked at Malfoy, “By all means, go,” he said.

“Let me pack up, I’ll meet you at the lift.” He smiled, nodded, and left.

“Get all the information you can.”

“I know, I’ll see you tomorrow.” She left.

Julian was waiting for her. “I know this great little café. It’s just a short walk from here.”

“Wonderful.” They left the building and walked six blocks down the street. They did not pas the Leaky Cauldron. A castle was carved into the door, she looked at the sign, “The Shakespeare Café?”

“You’ve never been here?” He looked stunned. “My mum was absolutely, and I mean absobloodylutely, obsessed with good ole Bill.”

They walked in and were seated. Things on the menu included Bard’s beignets, Juliet Juice (Hermione thought that sounded extremely disgusting), Romeo Rolls, and the like. “Clever menu,” she said.

Julian laughed. The waitress came to their table, and they ordered. “So, what made you want to work at SecureCo?” He asked.

She didn’t even have to think of her cover. “My parents are dentists. I’ve always thought it was awfully boring work. When I was…12, I think, I became addicted to those spy programs. You know the like?” He nodded. “Well, I wanted to make something no one could get through.” She smiled, Hermione-the-muggle was having fun, “What about you?”

“My father owns the company. It wasn’t exactly a choice,” he smiled sheepishly.

“Wicked,” Hermione-the-witch was reformulating her plan for handling Julian. His usefulness had just multiplied tenfold. “If it weren’t for you father, what would you do?”

He looked surprised. “No one has ever asked me that before. I’ve never really thought about it.” He thought for several moments. Finally, he said, “I don’t know. I don’t think you could understand it. I’m my parents only child, there never was another choice.”

Just like Malfoy, the thought came unbidden from the depths of her mind. “Actually,” she said, “I think I do. Understand, I mean.” He smiled broadly again. They talked for awhile longer, but Hermione got little information about SecureCo.

He walked her to the Underground. “You sure you don’t want a ride?”

“I’m sure.” He smiled, shrugged, and left. After descending into the Underground, Hermione headed for the toilets. Once inside she apparated to her parents house. She opened their front door and walked inside, “Mum, Da, I’m here.” She could hear her parents working in the kitchen. Hermione followed her nose. “Smells delicious.”

“It’s just fish,” said Mrs. Granger. “And it’s almost done. Set the table.” Hermione got her wand out. Domestic spells were the only kind she had never mastered. All of the plates, silverware, cups, even the salt shakers were upside down.

Her father looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “I’ll fix it,” she said.

“The muggle way?” He asked

“Oh fine, don’t’ let me have my fun.” She fixed the settings and they all sat down.

“So how’s work?” Asked her mother.

This was the part Hermione hated most about her visits to her parents. Every time she came, one of her parents would invariably ask her about her work, and Hermione was forced to lie. She knew it was for their protection, but it didn’t make it any less hard. “Great, I just got a promotion.”

“That’s wonderful, Hermione! We’re so proud of you for all of your hard work.” Her parents were both smiling. Hermione did too, but she felt rotten inside. “What will you be doing?”

“Paper work, lot’s of paperwork.” She rolled her eyes, “The Ministry likes to have four copies of everything. I’m going to be testing products to make sure they are fit for sale.”

“That sounds exciting.” Hermione shrugged. She stayed for a few hours, eating and watching Reality Television.

“I don’t believe they have the gall to put this on the air,” said her father. “Look at those two, do they even know the cameras are there?” Hermione smiled, her father loved, and loved to hate Reality Shows. Especially Big Brother, which he watched religiously.

“I need to go now,” Hermione stood up.

“Must you?” Asked her mother.

“Yeah, I still have some paperwork to finish before going in tomorrow.” Her mother and father hugged her. “I’ll be back in two weeks. Okay?” They nodded she kissed each of them and apparated to the alley behind her building.

She walked into her flat, Alissa wasn’t home, but that was normal. Hermione went into her room and fell asleep.

Malfoy was staring at her.

“What?” she asked, finally looking up from her computer. His eyes were about to burn holes through her skull.

“Nothing,” he shifted his gaze, looking behind her, he said, “Your new bloke is coming this way.”

“Wonderful,” she muttered.

“Not up to your high standards?”

“He’s the bosses only son; it doesn’t matter how little character he has.” Malfoy actually laughed.

“I hope I’m not the butt of the joke,” said Julian. Malfoy coughed to cover his new fit of laughter.

Hermione smiled, “Of course not.”

Julian sat on the edge of Hermione’s desk, some of Malfoy’s papers scattered and fell to the floor. He picked up a pen and pretended to stab Julian several times. Julian was oblivious. “So,” he said to Hermione, “There’s a new film starting up on Friday. Want to go with me?”

Malfoy kept up his pantomime, be he silently encouraged her. “Yeah, sure,” said didn’t sound enthused.

“Great,” he started to walk away, but he turned back. “Are you aware of company lunch policy?”

“No, why?”

“The company asks that employees eat in the cafeteria on the second floor. The food is good, and inexpensive.” He looked at Malfoy, “Keep it in mind.”

As Julian walked away, Malfoy said, “That’s bull shit, that’s a heaping, steaming, load of bull shit.” He looked at the time. “Let’s eat, we need to talk.”

They walked quickly and in near silence to the second floor cafeteria. After standing in line for nearly ten minutes, they sat down in a corner. The food on their trays was identical. The closest employee to them was two tables away. “This place might be bugged,” Hermione said in a harsh whispered, “Muggle listening devices, you know?” Draco nodded. “Though it’s so loud in here I doubt they could hear us.”

“Then why are you whispering?”

She met his eyes, “I could be wrong. You’re the one that wanted to talk, so talk.”

He looked over her shoulder, just a glance, but it was enough to tell her that someone was looking at them a little too intently. “The truth is,” he said, smiling sheepishly, “I’m just going to come out with this,” now muggle-Malfoy was talking, “Want to grab a something to drink after we leave?”

Muggle-Hermione smiled, “Yeah, sounds great.” They ate in silence and went back to their desks.

Once they finished all they could do that day, Malfoy and Hermione left sublevel three in the only way they traveled together, silently. “This is a muggle place,” Hermione said as they walked inside a pub.

Malfoy smiled, “London has many secrets, this place is one of them.” He led her to a closet, there were stairs under a trap door. They walked down for over a minute; the stairs led to a dark hallway, it seemed to go on forever in either direction. The door they entered said ‘The Witches Wart.’ A few wizards sat at the tables, most of them looked like convicts. The corner they sat in was the darkest place in the establishment.

“Dark wizard haunt?”

Malfoy shrugged, “Used to be.”

“What a surprise,” several shrunken heads hung from the ceiling and there were jars of substances she didn’t want to identify on various counters and tables.

“So, what did you find out on your little outing with Vaughn?” He sneered.

Hermione ignored his expression, “He’s the bosses only son, you know the type,” He nodded, “He didn’t say much else, except that his mother loves Shakespeare. That doesn’t help much.”

“Where does he work? What level?”

“Unfortunately, it would have been imprudent to ask.” She crossed her arms, “Any ideas on how to get the system specs?”

“I’ll be staying at work late tomorrow, I want to know when every one leaves, and I need a way into sublevel two.”

“We,” she said, “We need a way into sublevel two.”

He nodded, “I meant we.”

“What’s your plan?”

“I’ll hack into the security system with a coworkers name, it should be easy.” Hermione said nothing. “Is it not morally righteous enough for you? Or do you wish you had thought of it first?”

She shrugged, “It’s a sound plan.” The stench was starting to get to her. “Are we finished?”

He held up a hand to stop her from standing up, “Just one last thing.”

“What?”

“We need to establish a protocol for passing information. Talking after or during work will become obvious very soon.”

She raised an eyebrow, “What do you suggest, notes in a trash can?”

“Do you want to go dumpster diving? I know I’m not a fan of it. That won’t work, Granger.”

“I was being sarcastic, but do you have a better idea? It’s a bad plan, but it’s the only plan.”

“I’m thinking.”

“Does it hurt?” He sneered at her. She leaned back in her chair, and said, “We’ll need to talk in person then.” She didn’t sound happy about it.

“Nice deduction,” he said, “Do you want a cookie?”

“How,” Hermione asked, ignoring him.

“Must I spell it out for you, Granger? We’ll meet in private, using a believable cover story, and discuss business. If we don’t kill each other the plan will work,” he said.

Hermione resisted to urge to roll her eyes, “I never thought I’d work closely with someone who I’m at risk of murdering every waking hour.”

Draco didn’t respond for a moment, then he just said, “Yeah.”

“What, no witty comeback?” Triumph shown in her eyes.

“It’s almost 7 o’clock, I just want to go home. Let’s finish here so we can go recharge for tomorrows battle of wits. We need to talk alone, if no one knows, or thinks they know, why we’re always together, rumors will start.”

She raised an eyebrow, “And you care about muggle rumors?”

He shook his head, “Of course, not. I do, however care about our muggle cover. They mustn’t think we’re any different.” They lapsed into silence. Eventually he said, “I do have a plan, and it will work, but it won’t work without your complete support.”

“And what, pray tell, is your plan?”

He started, then paused, as if he didn’t know how to phrase his proposal. “We will appear to be dating. It will give us enough reason to be alone together often enough. No one should suspect.”

“Alright,” said Hermione. Malfoy’s eyes widened. “What?” she asked, “Didn’t expect me to agree?” He nodded. “It’ll work, and I want to get back to my flat. If that’s all we needed to get done, I’m leaving.” She stood up.

Malfoy called after her as she walked away, “Bye, sweetie.” She rolled her eyes and kept on her course.

The ride home seemed shorter than it was on most days. When she opened the door to her flat Alissa said, “Where have you been? I was starting to worry.”

Hermione smiled, “No you weren’t. And you know I was just working.”

Alissa shook her head, “I have it on good authority that you left the office almost two hours ago with Draco Malfoy. Work stays in the office, so what were you two doing together?”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “We went out, had a drink, nonalcoholic, and discussed a project we’re doing. It was work. I promise.”

“I think he fancies you.”

“Last week you though Will the Janitor fancied me. Can you tell me who it will be next week? I’d like to keep a list of all the hearts I’m breaking.”

Alissa laughed, “Speaking of broken hearts, you never did get around to telling me about your date with Julian Vaughn.”

“You’re right, I didn’t,” Hermione walked towards her room.

Alissa cut in front of her, “I don’t think so, sit down, I want details.”

Hermione threw her hands up as she sat at the kitchen table, “We went to a café, had coffee, and discussed the meaning of life. He’s nice enough, but a little shallow if you ask me.”

“You know what your problem is? You’re too picky! Julian Vaughn, too shallow! He’s Julian Vaughn.”

“I will not let my standards waver because he’s the bosses son, he doesn’t deserve special treatment.” She paused, “But, because he’s so pretty, we’re going out again on Friday.” Alissa’s jaw dropped and Hermione walked into her room.

Hours later, just as she was about to fall asleep, Hermione heard Alissa say, “You’re too picky.” But she was asleep before she could think about it.

Hermione nodded. “I need to learn how to fit in.”

Chapter 6

“All of your dreams seem to end like this, why?” Malfoy towered over her.

Hermione stood up. “This can’t be real, I wouldn’t dream of you two nights in a row. At least, not deliberately.”

He smiled, “I know that. But do you really believe this is a dream?” They were no longer in the underground. The stairs they stood on stretched on forever in either direction. “Walk with me.”

She followed him before she realized what she was doing. “Where are we going? How can you be here? We share no bonds.”

“We work together, isn’t that enough?”

“No,” She thought she could see the top of the staircase. They walked in silence for what seemed like several minutes. “Where are we going?” she asked again.

“The top of the stairs.”

“Why?” And why was he here.

“Because that’s where they lead, Granger.” He tossed a glance over his shoulder, “You do ask a lot of questions for a girl who used to have all of the answers.”

“I am most certainly not a girl, Malfoy.” She crossed her arms but kept walking. Her knees were starting to hurt. They continued to climb in silence. The top was getting closer. She was relieved to stop moving when they finally arrived.

There was a table with dozens of ingredients on it, and a cauldron. “What are we doing here?”

“We’re going to sacrifice little children,” he deadpanned, “What does it look like we’re going to do?”

She rolled her eyes, “Perhaps the more pertinent question, you nasty little ferret, would be, why are we making a potion together?”

“Because I love you dearly and want you to feel the same.” He paused, “Nope, not that one, it’s for work, what else would you think?”

She walked to the table. The directions were written on a piece of parchment. “A telepathy spell? Do you know how dangerous those can be?”

“Why do you think I’m not doing this alone?”

She widened her eyes, “A Malfoy, not the best at something? Oh, my, I think the world is ending.”

He breathed deep, then exhaled, “Obviously this was a mistake, Granger. See you at the office.” He dissolved, along with the room. Hermione fell.

And then she woke up. But that was more due to her alarm clock than a 100 foot plunge. She crawled out of bed, struggled into her jogging clothes and went out for her run. By seven, she was back at the flat and preparing for another days battle with one Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy arrived at the office a half an hour after her. “Morning, Granger. Sleep well?” It was the look in his eyes, not his tone, that made the comment malicious.

She looked around, no one was watching them, then she leaned close. “If you ever do what you did last night, I will curse you into oblivion. Understood?”

Malfoy looked confused, “What are you talking about? I didn’t do anything.” He smirked, “Dreaming about me? I didn’t know you cared.”

She narrowed her eyes, “You didn’t suggest a telepathy potion?” She hissed.

Now his eyes widened. But then he regained his composure, “Like I would want to read your thoughts.” They lapsed into silence, as usual. Hermione didn’t join Malfoy as he went to lunch. She worked all day and into the night. Finally going home around 6 o’ clock. Malfoy left at five.

Alissa wasn’t home when Hermione arrived at the flat. She checked the messages on the answering machine, there was only one. “More details,” a squeaky woman’s voice said, it must have been one of Alissa’s friends, “Give me more before you go.” Hermione shook her head and wrote the message down. The woman didn’t even leave a name. Just a slightly cryptic message with no name. Weird.

She grabbed the Informant and wrote:

Partner acquired, plan progressing.

It wasn’t much, but it was straight forward enough. Unlike Malfoy. What had he meant when he said he didn’t enter her dreams? It didn’t make sense. She wasn’t dreaming of him, that was for sure, but he truly seemed surprised. Then again, he was a good actor.

Just like every Malfoy. Like all Death Eaters. Alleged or not.

Which brought her around to the current situation. How could she and Malfoy work for the same people? On the same side. It didn’t make any sense. He came from a long line of Dark Wizards, his father, and probably he too, were Death Eaters. She came from a long line of dentists.

It just didn’t add up, no matter how you did the math. He was bad, she was good. He was dark, she was light. He was Pepsi, she was coke. One was good, the other evil, they could never work together, never be on the same side. And yet they somehow were. “When did the world stop making any sense?” Hermione asked the walls.

“It all stops making sense after school,” said Alissa. She was holding a very heavy looking bag.

“I didn’t hear you come in.”

Alissa nodded, “That makes sense, I’m a master of stealth entrances. They don’t call me the best spy in the business for nothing.” Hermione laughed, Alissa didn’t know it was because of the irony. Alissa’s bag split open, “Shit,” she said. Files flew all over the room.

Hermione helped her pick up the mess. She picked up a box that fell open revealing a few pieces of metal. “What’s this?”

Alissa seemed worried for a second, then she smiled and said, “I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.” She grabbed the box and metal back from Hermione. “Don’t worry about this mess, I’ve got it.”

Hermione shook her head, any excuse to look at Alissa’s files. “It’s no problem, my flat too.”

“No,” she looked serious, “I’ve got it.”

Hermione shrugged, mustn’t look to eager, “If you’re sure.”

“I am.” Hermione shrugged and walked into her room. Alissa was hiding something, the question just was, what? Knowing Alissa, it couldn’t be important. The files were most likely employee information, and the box, some new cosmetic torture device. But Hermione still made a mental note of what happened, it might be important later.

Several minutes passed before Alissa came into her room. Hermione slowly put the book she was reading down. “You hungry?” Alissa asked.

The fact that Hermione hadn’t eaten all day was starting to get to her, “A little, if I don’t need to cook.”

“You have trouble making tea, but I’ve made some soup, if you want it.” Hermione wasn’t offended by the cooking comment. Muggle-Hermione couldn’t cook.

“I’ll be out in a minute.” Alissa nodded and walked out. Hermione put her book on the bedside table and went into the kitchen. “Smells great,” she said.

“The best stuff is canned, well, that’s what my mum always told me, anyway.” Alissa smiled, “She just didn’t want to take the time to make the real kind. But it’s what I’m used to.”

“Yeah,” Hermione ate her soup.

An hour or so later Alissa left again to meet up with friends. The phone rang, a usual occurrence in muggle dwellings. “Hullo,” she said.

“May I speak with Alissa?” a crisp voice asked.

“I’m sorry, she just left. Would you like to leave a message?”

“That’s alright, I’ll just catch her on her mobile.” The woman hung up, so did Hermione. The phone rang again.

“Yes?” she said.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.” It was Malfoy. He said no more and hung up.

Hermione made a derisive noise. It was almost ten, so it had better be good. He arrived at the flat ten minutes later, as promised. “What do you want, Malfoy?” she asked.

“We’ve got work to do,” he pulled on her arm.

“Don’t touch me!”

“Granger, with our new arrangement you’ll have to get used to these little caresses.” Caresses seemed to roll off of his tongue. Hermione didn’t want to think of Malfoy’s tongue unless she was cutting it out of his mouth.

“We’re not in public now.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Your flat mate could walk in on us at any moment. Are you going to invite me in?” He was still standing in the doorway.

“Alissa isn’t home,” Malfoy smiled evilly, “And I thought you were leaving.”

“We are leaving momentarily. But wouldn’t this be the best time to search through her files?”

Hermione pursed her lips, “I’m sure you’ve already been through her files.” He didn’t miss the double entendre.

“Anything for the job.”

She shook her head, “She has nothing here, and she could be back at any time.”

“Then are you ready to go?”

“Yes.” They took the lift to the main level and got into Malfoy’s car at the curb. Once she was seated, Hermione asked, “Are you going to tell me where you’re taking me? Or why?”

Malfoy stared ahead at the road, “We’re making a potion. I have a…laboratory, is it? In the city.”

“A potion?” Her dream came back to her. “What kind?”

“The telepathy kind.” Her eyes widened. “I didn’t send that dream, whatever it was to you, Granger. But I was thinking of suggesting it. Apparently fate intervened.”

“Telepathy can be very dangerous. We barely covered it in NEWT level potions.”

He looked at her for a moment, then turned back to the road, “I am quite aware of that. There is a photocopy of the potion’s instructions in the glove compartment. Feel free to look it over.”

Hermione opened the compartment and looked over the page, “There is a final step missing, do you know it?”

“Yes,” he paused, “We’ll burn that bridge when we come to it. Is it safe enough for you, or do you think I’m trying to poison you?”

“What is the last step?”

He kept his face straight, “Unpleasant, but completely safe, and even normal for some people.” He pulled over, “We’re here.”

“A bank?”

“You should well know that things aren’t always what they appear.” He got out of the car and walked up the steps of the bank. “Are you coming?” He asked when she didn’t move.

Hermione silently followed him. Once they were inside it still looked alarmingly like a bank. There were several teller stations framed in dark wood. Each had a sign saying, ‘Proceed to Next Open Teller, Please,’ in gold lettering on black plastic. There was a rope designating how to form a line. One seemed slightly out of place, the thirteenth. There was no sign, and the wood grain didn’t line up. Malfoy tapped the wall in a series of places, and the thirteenth tellers position opened up. “Clever,” Hermione muttered.

Through the entrance, there was a set of stairs leading up. Malfoy climbed, Hermione wasn’t far behind him. After ten minutes of climbing she could see the edge. It was still a long way off, but it gave her a sense of hope. Another ten minutes went by and they were at the top. “There really should be a lift to places like these.”

Malfoy turned to her, “I didn’t know you were one to complain.”

“Not a complaint, just a suggestion.”

He summoned the ingredients and a cauldron. “Add in the ginger,” he told her. “Now the feverfew.”

Hermione followed his instructions and asked, “Are you sure we’re not making stew?”

He finished adding his ingredients and said, “Now we wait while it simmers.” They sat in two comfortable armchairs, facing each other. Neither said anything for a long while. Then Malfoy broke the silence, “You’re a talented witch, even if you’re a stuck up goody-goody.”

Hermione smiled wryly, “And you’re a good wizard, even if you’re a spoilt ethnocentric bastard.”

Malfoy gave a rare, genuine smile, “At least you know how to insult a bloke. You’ve got spine.”

She nodded. Glancing at the cauldron she said, “It looks ready.”

They both stood up. “Don’t swallow in immediately after you put it in your mouth, no matter how foul it tastes.”

“The unbearable, mysterious last step?” He nodded.

Filling up two cups he handed in one to her. “Cheers,” They both drank. It tasted vile, but Hermione kept it in her mouth. He moved so fast that Hermione didn’t see him, but then he crushed her mouth with his. She responded before she could think, but pushed him back quickly.

She swallowed the potion and said, “What the hell was that?”

“The last step, Granger. What did you think?” They cleaned up and he took her back to her flat. They didn’t speak again.

But when Hermione entered her flat, she heard Malfoy’s voice in her head, “Can you hear me now?” He asked.

“Yes,” she thought back.

“Good.”

Alissa wasn’t back yet, Hermione figured that she was still out with her friends, or newest boy toy, it didn’t matter. She walked into the kitchen and boiled water for tea. Once the water was ready she poured it into a mug decorated with bright pink poodles. She put the tea bag in the mug and poured the steaming water, as she picked up the mug her eyes slammed shut.

Malfoy was driving in the city somewhere. He went over the bridge, and she could see a gated park. There were very expensive looking, and beautiful, homes. He changed the radio station.

Hermione didn’t hear the mug smash on the ground. But she was surprised when she looked down and saw dozens of poodle pieces littered the kitchen floor. “Are you alright?” Alissa asked, closing the door.

“Yeah, of course.” She smiled, “Mug just slipped right out of my hand.” She grabbed a small broom from the cupboard. “What were you doing out so late?”

Alissa put her small purse down and took off her black heels. “The usual, new bloke.” She shrugged, “Not a very interesting one though.”

Hermione smiled and dumped the pieces in the garbage. “Some woman called for you, did she catch you on your mobile?”

Alissa paused, there was no expression on her face. Then she said, “Yeah, she got me. It wasn’t important.”

“Good.” Hermione yawned, “I’m beat, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“It is morning.”

“12:32 doesn’t count.” Hermione put the broom away.

“Night, then.”

Hermione nodded. Alissa made no move to leave the kitchen as Hermione walked out. She could hear Alissa moving around, maybe she wanted a cup of tea too. Hermione walked into her room and put on a nightshirt. She looked at her bedside table and noticed that her book wasn’t in the drawer. “Could of sworn I put it away.” She shrugged and put in where it belonged. She must have been daydreaming earlier.

She lay down in bed and looked up at the ceiling. ‘If anyone’s up there,’ she thought, in a strange sort of prayer, ‘Please don’t let me dream tonight.’ Either there was no god, or they weren’t listening.

She and Harry sat on a dingy little bench, in a dingy little park near Ottery St. Catchpole. “He’s never coming back, is he?” She leaned her head on Harry’s shoulder. Tears fell freely down her cheeks.

She heard Harry sniff. “If I could say or do anything to bring him back, believe me I would. I--” Harry kept talking, but she couldn’t hear it. Malfoy was crouching in front of her.

“Why do you torture yourself like this?” The background faded away. They were on an empty street in London. If Hermione hadn’t have known she was dreaming, that fact alone would have tipped her off. “Those things happened five years ago.”

“Why do you care?”

He shrugged, “I don’t particularly. So, why did you call me to your dream?”

“Call you?” Hermione’s eyes widened. “I wasn’t even thinking about, and I would never willingly call you, even if my life were on the line.”

Malfoy actually laughed, “I really feel this partner trust. And, why would I be here if you didn’t call me?”

“Masochism?”

He laughed again. “Maybe that. Or maybe this little potion has some unknown side effects. What fun.”

“Go away!”

Malfoy shrugged, “I don’t know how. And at least you’re not sleeping alone. Like you do every other night.”

“The state of my sexual liaisons is hardly your business, Malfoy.” She closed her eyes and concentrated extremely hard.

She was awake. The clock at her bedside said 4:47, but she wasn’t tired any longer. Hermione walked into the kitchen. There was a newspaper in there, even though it was only almost 5:00 AM. It was Muggle magic. Nothing incredibly interesting happened so she took her tea and sat in front of the television. A body had been fished out of the Thames right after midnight. After that a cute woman reported on the weather and an upcoming dog show.

“It’s 5:30, what are you doing up?” Alissa asked. She was dressed in a black business suit.

“I could say the same for you.” Hermione turned off the television.

Alissa smiled, “I’ve got to get to Heathrow. I have a flight to Barcelona at 8:30.” She walked into the kitchen. “How old is this water?”

Hermione followed her, “Maybe a half hour. It should still be hot.” She sat at the table. “How long will you be gone?”

“Just today. My flight back from Spain is at 5:30.” She opened her briefcase on the table and sorted through her papers. Apparently everything was there. Alissa closed the bag, “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Goodbye.” She left. Hermione went into her room and put on her running clothes. The place where the body had been fished out of the river was on her path, there were still police vehicles there. She arrived back at the flat at 6:30. There was a black square under the kitchen table, a disk that must have fallen out of Alissa’s bag. Hermione picked it up and took it into her room to put it in her computer.

The information made her eyes widen. She got dressed as quickly as she could and hurried to the office. Malfoy was already there, sitting at his desk. He looked smug as usual, but there were bags under his eyes. When she was sure that no one was looking, she slid the disk onto his desk and directed her thoughts at him. “Check that out when no ones looking. It’s important.”

He gave the briefest of nods. They may have hated each other in the outside world, but they worked well together. He slipped the disk into his pocket. She pretended to work, waiting for him to say something, anything, about the information she found. But he never got the opportunity to look at it.

Julian found her around 10:00. “Hermione, can we talk?” he asked.

“You can, I can, I guess the answer would be yes.” Malfoy laughed inside her head. She ignored him.

Vaughn smiled. “Cute.” He touched her arm and led her away from her desk. “I know this may not seem very professional, but it’s about the movie tonight.”

Hermione nodded, she’d forgotten, but he didn’t need to know that. “What about it?”

“Would you hate me if I cancelled?” He looked worried.

“Cancelled? Or rescheduled?” On a personal level, she was hoping she wouldn’t have to spend alone time with him again. Ever. He was a little creepy, in a subtle way.

“Cancelled. I’ve just noticed you with your partner, David. You seem a bit…chummy.” He shrugged.

“His name is Draco. I guess you could call us friendly. What of it? Is there a company policy about the level of friendliness between coworkers.” The childish Hermione hoped there was, the business woman didn’t care.

“No, there isn’t. Wouldn’t that be ridiculous?” He smiled. “Will you be honest with me?” Hermione nodded, “Is there anything going on between the two of you?”

“Remember our arrangement, Granger.” Malfoy’s voice drifted into her head. Distance didn’t hinder the spell. At least the length of a room didn’t.

“Never, honeybun.” He laughed, sarcasm seemed to travel well through their link. “Draco’s…alright. But there’s nothing going on between us, yet.”

“Call me a gentleman, but I don’t want to come between the two of you. We’ll just say I’m bowing out gracefully, before I’ve overstayed my welcome.” He turned to talk away.

“Julian,” Hermione said before he left, “Thank you.” He nodded, and walked to the elevator.

She walked back to her desk, “Have you looked that file over?”

“Nothing seems strange,” he said. “We need to talk alone. And soon.” She nodded. “Did you try to access the info from different programs?”

“I’m not stupid.” She sat down. “Vaughn thinks we’re romantically involved.”

He smiled evilly, “It’s not a fate worse than death. Many girls would die to be involved with a Malfoy.”

She started to type, “Haven’t we talked about this before.”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t stop it from being true.”

Malfoy stood up and walked away. Moments later her mobile rang. “Hermione Granger speaking.”

“Miss Granger,” it was Malfoy’s voice, but accented differently. “My name is Nigel Wheems, I’m calling to inform you that your father has been admitted to the hospital.”

“What hospital?” She asked him mentally.

“To St. Anne’s. Is it possible for you to arrive here quickly?”

“I’ll do my best, Mr. Wheems. Thank you.” She hung up. Malfoy came back to his desk. “Did you bring your car by any chance?”

“Of course, why?”

“My father has been admitted to the hospital,” she explained, “I’ve been asked to go there as soon as possible. Could you possibly give me a ride?”

“In more ways than one,” Malfoy didn’t seem to know he’d sent the thought, when she rolled her eyes at him, he looked confused. “We can leave now.”

“Thanks.” They gathered their things and headed for the lift. “Alissa is out of town for the day,” Hermione told him telepathically, “It will be safe to discuss things at my flat.”

“You’re sure?” He asked.

“Alissa is an innocent bystander, as far as I can tell. She had no reason to lie to me this morning.” Hermione didn’t like that she had to defend Alissa. Malfoy just nodded. Once out of the building, they walked to his car. “You are aware that this city has a reliable public transport system, right? A car is hardly necessary.”

They got in and pulled out of the parking lot, “Of course it isn’t necessary Granger, but it’s fun, and I can have one. Why shouldn’t I?” Hermione rolled her eyes. “No need to call me an insufferable little ferret. It isn’t very polite.”

“Don’t chastise me, and call me a Mudblood on top of it! Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.” She crossed her arms. “And I didn’t call you an insufferable little ferret, not out loud, anyway.”

“Well, I most certainly didn’t call you a Mudblood to your face. It’s hardly professional.”

Her eyes widened. “Did we miss any small print on that potion? First I had a flash of what you did yesterday night, then the dream, and now these thoughts. You tricked me!”

Teeth clenched, Malfoy stared at the road, “On this occasion, no I did not. And I didn’t make any mistakes. Perhaps you added an improper ingredient. Or can the perfect Granger make no mistakes?”

Neither said anything until they pulled up to Hermione’s flat. “Control your thoughts, Malfoy, and I’ll control mine. The sooner we finish this assignment, the sooner we can take the counter-potion. Consider it motivation.”

“Consider me motivated.”

“Don’t get smart with me,” she snapped. They entered the building. No one was in the hallway. Once inside the flat, Hermione retrieved her laptop from her room and put it on the kitchen table. Malfoy pulled a chair very close to her and leaned in so he could see the screen as well as she could. “Do you think it means what I think it means?”

“I think it means trouble for the entire wizarding world. That is, if it is true, and if any of things could be put into motion quickly.” His breath was warm on her neck. She stayed perfectly still, pretending not to feel it. “I can still read your mind, Granger.”

She ignored the comment. “You think the information is false.” It wasn’t a question.

He shrugged. “You said it yourself, Alissa is an innocent bystander. Why would she have this disk if she is as innocent as you seem to think?”

“Her meeting?” She scooted away from Malfoy. “Maybe she was supposed to give it to an associate. Or…” She trailed off.

“Maybe she’s not so innocent. She could be higher in the company hierarchy, or she could be a corporate spy.” He met her eyes, “Just because you’re a goody two-shoes, doesn’t mean the rest of the world is.”

“You would be a prime example of the bad world?”

Malfoy laughed, “Have I ever, in the ten years we have known each other, pretended to be anything but bad, aside from spy work?” He raised his Slytherin brow. “I like being bad, Granger. You should give it a try sometime.”

“We need to verify this information,” she said.

“Indeed.”

She sighed, “How do you go about asking a corrupt company if it’s true that they have the technology to decimate wizard kind, without rousing suspicion?”

He smirked, “Good question.”

Hermione stood up and walked to the sink. She didn’t look at Malfoy when she said, “Once the information is confirmed, we need to do something about it.”

“We’ll turn it over to our employer and be done with it. That’s what spies do.” He typed something on the keyboard.

She turned around, “If you’re working for them, I can hardly trust their intentions.”

“That explains it.”

“Explains what?”

He looked at her, “We each don’t know who, or what, we’re working for. What did they tell you?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Why should I believe that I’m not the only one whose been lied to? The bad guys lie, not the other way around. And you knew we were working together long before I did.”

“Conjecture and inquiry informed me of our partnership, I was never actually given your name. Why are you so opposed to the fact that I may be just as misinformed as yourself?” He smirked, but his tone was serious.

“My recruiter came to me five years ago, shortly after the end of the war. He told me that he was part of an organization dedicated to policing international terrorism among wizards. They trained me to act like a muggle and I’ve specialized in infiltrating muggle companies who pose a risk to our kind. What’s your story? Let me guess, disenfranchised dark wizards scrambling for any power they can find? Ultimately trying to put purebloods on top?”

“You think you know me so well, don’t you?” He actually sounded offended. “My motivations are my own, you’d do well to learn that.” He glanced at the screen, “Look at this.”

“Is that a weapon?” It didn’t look like a gun, but there were other, more dangerous tools.

“A type of bioweapon, I think.”

“A bioweapon?”

“From the looks of it, targeted specifically at wizards.”

“In a city? A country? What’s the range?”

“It’s airborne, look for yourself, but I can’t see anything about the range.” He stood up.

“So the genius doesn’t have all of the answers.” Hermione said, taking his seat.

“If that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black.” He reached for the cupboards.

“What did you say?”

Malfoy smirked again, “You heard me, Granger. It’s a muggle phrase, I have an entire book of them.” He continued searching. “Don’t you have any food?”

She rolled her eyes and continued reading the documents. It was fascinating. Apparently Alissa, or whoever owned the disk had been collecting information about wizards for years. They’d even captured a few. It was horrible, and ingenious.

“I asked you a question. It would be polite to answer me.” His voice was malevolent, and right in her ear.

“Since when have we ever been polite?” She turned to face him. There eyes were inches apart. “And since I’m not feeding you, I choose to ignore you.” Even though I’m a little hungry myself.

Malfoy laughed his sardonic laugh, “It’s not a crime to eat,” He backed up a little.

“So go buy your own food, I want to keep working on this.” He walked out, preferring food to an argument. Hermione continued to go through the disk. Twenty minutes later, Malfoy returned with two sandwiches.

“Let me on,” he said.

“I’m still looking.”

“Here,” he handed her a sandwich, he didn’t let go when she grabbed it. “Let me look over the disk while you eat.” She stood up, he let go of the food.

Several minutes later she heard him curse under his breath. “Such common language from a Malfoy? What will the other purebloods say?”

He ignored the comment. “I guess you don’t need to worry, Granger. The…thing…only affects real wizards, purebloods.”

“Care to elaborate?” Her phone rang, “Hello?”

“It’s Alissa. I just landed at the airport. On time, hard to believe, right? I’m going to pick up some food, do you want anything?”

“No, I just ate, and I may not be home when you get here.”

“Alright, got a date?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Maybe,” she laughed, “Wouldn’t you like that?”

“I’ve got to go, goodbye.”

Hermione hung up. “Shut that down. Alissa’s coming back. Why do you say only purebloods?”

“It targets persons with a certain gene that causes magic to manifest. Genes are…genetic, as you well know. If a person’s parents didn’t pass it down, they can’t have that gene.” He smiled triumphantly.

“Then why can muggleborns do magic?” He didn’t respond.

“Isn’t your roommate not supposed to arrive until after five? It’s 4:30.”

“Perhaps she gave the wrong time.” He shut down the computer. “What are you going to do with the disk?”

“I can’t trust it with you. For all I know, you’ll take it to your precious and mighty ministry. Or worse, Dumbledore.”

“And you might take it to your employer.”

“Need I remind you, Granger, that we work for the same people? Whoever they are.” He muttered the last, but she still heard.

Yeah, she thought, and once I know who they are…

“You’ll do what? If this…organization is discovered by average wizards, we’re both in trouble. And don’t tell me you’re innocent,” she made a noise to interrupt him, he held a hand up to silence her. “If you never thought anything you did for them wasn’t…sound…than you aren’t nearly as smart as you seem.” As smart as I think you are.

“I trust you have a computer.”

“Of course.”

She nodded, “Then come with me.” She ran into her room and came out a minute later. “Ready?” She walked out the door before he could answer.

Once he was seated in his car, he asked, “So, may I know where we’re going, or will you just tell me where to turn?”

“You’re staying in the city, correct?” He nodded, slowly. “Well, it’s always been a secret wish of mine to see how a Malfoy lives…” He nodded, rolling his eyes at her sugary tone and put the car in gear.

“Well,” she said when they stopped, “It’s not quite what I expected.” In fact, it was almost identical to her building.

“We’re spies, Granger. It would seem odd if I lived in anything nicer than this.”

“And you explain your car, how?”

“A gift from the father to the beloved son, of course. Lies are easy to maintain the truer they are.”

“Spoken like a true liar.”

“At least I come by it honestly.” Hermione smiled at got out of the car quickly, breaking their moment of camaraderie.

He led her to his flat on the fist floor. “Let’s see the computer and the disk.” A few minutes later they were seated at his kitchen table. “I’m going to make two copies, each will contain half of the disk.”

“Different halves, I hope.”

“Of course, you’ll take a half, I’ll take a half and the real disk, which I will give to Alissa. She’ll believe me when I tell her that she dropped it.”

He nodded. “Fine, it’s a deal.” She inserted the disk and did as promised.

Several minutes later she handed him a yellow disk. “There’s a program on both disks so they’ll operate together on a computer and we can access the information. I also put on a more complex encryption.” She held up a red disk, “This one is mine. Alissa will get the black one.”

“You did all of that in,” he checked his watch, “Fifteen minutes?”

“Computers are my specialty. Anything else?”

“Yeah,” she raised an eyebrow, “Nice colors, Granger.” He smiled, not mockingly, but like he appreciated the joke.

“Er, thanks,” she left the flat confused.

It was a thirty minute ride on the underground, Hermione spent the entire time thinking about Malfoy’s apparent change. “Doesn’t matter,” she muttered walking up the stairs to her flat. “He’s still a pretentious git.”

Alissa seemed to appear out of nowhere. “Who’s a pretentious git?”

“Oh, just some bloke from work.” She opened the door. Hermione walked to the kitchen and deftly dropped the disk on the table. “How was Spain?”

“Madrid has a nice airport.” She saw the disk, “Is that yours or mine?”

“I think you dropped it this morning.” She paused, “I thought you went to Barcelona.”

“Did I say Barcelona this morning?” She laughed, “I must have been more tired than I thought. No, I had meetings all day at the Madrid airport. Didn’t I tell you?”

“No,” she noticed Alissa’s arm, “Dangerous airport?”

“What?” She looked down at her bandages. “One of my colleagues spilled some coffee on me, it was really hot.” She smiled. The phone rang. Alissa jumped for it. “Hello?” She listened for a moment. “No, I’m sorry, this isn’t Cho’s China House.”

“Wrong number?”

“Yeah,” Alissa’s beeper went off. After checking it she looked apologetic. “I have to go.”

“I’m glad I don’t have your job.” Alissa left. After awhile, Hermione went to sleep.

A little girl handed Hermione a sunflower. “He loves me,” she giggled, pulling off a petal, “He loves me not,” tear fell down her cheek. “He loves me!” She giggled.

Hermione moved farther into the green field. It was extremely bright. Her parents appeared in front of her. “Witch!” Her mother shrieked as her father screamed, “Evil!”

“Whore!” The said together.

Hermione back peddled. “Hey!” A little blond boy said, “You’re going to squish me!”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “It’s alright. Have you seen Hermione?”

“I am Hermione.”

Shaking his head, he said, “Nuh-uh, you’re way to big. She’s my height, big teeth, Alice band, have you seen her?”

“She’s that way,” Hermione pointed. The boy bounced off. Both children stayed in her sight. “Strange boy.”

“Cute kids,” said Malfoy.

Suddenly, Hermione knew. “They’re us. Were you really that nice as an eight year old?”

He shrugged, “It was a phase. Did you really play with sunflowers?”

“I don’t know.” They started walking. “You’re you, not a figment of my imagination?”

“I’m me.” He grabbed her hand. Her eyes widened, but he didn’t let go. “There’s a lake over there,” he tugged on her arm.

“How do you know?”

“It’s a dream, isn’t it? We can have anything we want.” A lake appeared. They sat in two leather armchairs staring at the glistening water.

“What’s wrong with you?” She asked finally, turning her head to face him

He stared at her and smiled genuinely. “What’s wrong with me? I could ask you the same question.” He looked back to the lake. “Dreams don’t lie. “ Music, slow and soulful started playing. He held out a hand, “Dance with me.”

Dreams may not lie, but people still can. She directed the thought to him.

Not in dreams, he replied, standing.

She, too, stood and took his hand. He pulled her close and they swayed to the music. She twirled around a few times before he pulled her back again. Dreams don’t lie. “Why did you want to dance with me?”

“Because you’re here, and there is music.”

“Is that true? Completely?”

He smiled, “No, and I won’t tell you any other reason.” She leaned her head against his chest and found it extremely comfortable. If they weren’t enemies, the experience would have been completely enjoyable. “We aren’t enemies,” he said. “Do you really think we are?”

“It’s all we’ve ever been.” He spun her. “I’m Hermione Granger, muggleborn witch, you’re Draco Malfoy, pureblood wizard. If Shakespeare were still alive, he’d have a field day with us.”

“Field day?”

“Check your phrase book.”

He pulled her close and they started swaying again, “I’ll do that. But you didn’t answer me, are we enemies?”

“No.” She looked up. “We aren’t enemies anymore.”

“Good.” His lips brushed hers, and she deepened the kiss. Then she heard a pained groan.

“Help…me…” a voiced rasped. “Help…me…boy.”

Malfoy looked up, “Father?” Lucius Malfoy stood, hunched over, blood spilling out of several wounds.

“Help me.” Hermione’s eyes widened. She hadn’t seen Lucius in five years, since he died.

“I…I…” Malfoy was at a loss for words.

The older Malfoy, however, seemed to be gaining strength. “Get away from my…murderer…boy.”

Now Malfoy’s eyes widened. “Granger? What is he talking about?”

“Ask the mudblood, boy. She can’t lie. Do it.”

Hermione’s eyes snapped open. The dream, thankfully, was over. But what were its implications?

Chapter Nine

It started like normal morning for Hermione Granger. She rolled over, groaning and exhausted at 5:29, one minute before her alarm blared it’s beep throughout her room. She sat up, turning off the alarm and shaking off the remnants of her shared nightmare.

She threw on her running clothes and left for her quick, five mile run. Few people were out so early, just the vigilant store owners preparing to start their normal muggle days. Some days she wished she were like them, or at least a normal witch. But some days, spy work was more rewarding than anything.

A car honked and she stepped back onto the curb right before a mini cooper would have hit her. The driver yelled something at her, but she couldn’t hear him through the glass, she continued running.

By the time she arrived back to her flat, Alissa was already gone. She got ready and was out the door by 8:00.

***

Hermione stared intently at her computer tapping a pen against the desk. It was systematic, a clink a second. Malfoy glared daggers at her. Neither said a word, the only sound was the clink of Hermione’s pen.

A tall blond man approached her. “Miss Granger, come with me please.” Malfoy straightened in his chair. Hermione rose and followed the man. He led her to a room that looked like it belonged in a medical clinic. “Every two months we do random drug tests. If you’ll stick your arm out?”

Alarms went off in Hermione’s head. “A blood test?”

“There is less chance of an error than with a urine sample.” Something must have showed on her face. “Is something wrong, Miss Granger?”

“No, nothing’s wrong.” She said slowly, “I just don’t like needles.”

He nodded, knowingly. “We’ve developed a new type of needle,” he showed her, “You won’t feel it.” With no other choice, she stuck her arm out. The technician smiled, after a few seconds he said, “There, all done.” He put a bandage on her arm. “It shouldn’t even leave a mark.” Hermione smiled.

“May I leave?”

“Of course, have a nice day.”

She stood up, “Could you tell me when Draco Malfoy is scheduled to go?”

He seemed reluctant. “Well…I’m not supposed to…”

“Please, as a favor?”

He grabbed a clipboard. “Tomorrow afternoon.”

Hermione smiled, “Thank you.” She walked out of the room and bumped into a man walking briskly with his eyes on the floor. “Sorry,” he muttered as he disappeared down the hall.

Malfoy looked at her when she sat down at her desk. ‘They’re giving you a blood test tomorrow.’ She told him mentally.

His head jerked up, ‘Alright,’ he replied after a moment.

She didn’t tell him about her plans to get her own blood sample back. His response would be simple, “Your blood, your problem.”

She saw the man she’d bumped into in the hallway typing frantically at his desk. Something about him, or his demeanor, aroused her suspicion. ‘Who is that man?’ She asked Malfoy, glancing over.

‘Michael Iverson, anything else?’

Hermione rolled her eyes, ‘Does he seem suspicious to you?’

‘Suspicious?’

‘There’s just something about him. Have you ever seen anyone here work that hard?’ The employees at Sub Level 2 were dedicated, but even they had limits.

‘Perhaps he wants to finish early, Granger. If you care so much, why don’t you ask him?’

That, of course, would be too obvious. If it weren’t for that damn dream last night, at least he’d be civil and work with her. She looked at her watch. It was eleven thirty. Can’t this day just end already? She didn’t send the thought, and Malfoy didn’t appear to hear it.

“Hello, Miss Parks,” Michael Iverson was on the phone, “May I speak to Angie please, it’s important.” He paused, “Thank you. Angie, I’m going to be home late tonight, so go home with Sarah. Okay? Good. I love you.” He hung up.

Another man came to sit by him, offering food. Iverson didn’t accept. “Are you listening, Granger?”

“No, what?”

“I said that I’m -- what the hell?” Smoke was billowing from the elevator.

“Are those gunshots?” She paused, “I hate to state the obvious, but this really isn’t good.”

“Do you want to get shot? Get down.” He demonstrated, Hermione followed his example, the only time in her life she was happy to do so.

‘There are two exits,’ Malfoy told her mentally, ready to work with her now that they were in immediate danger. ‘A staircase near the toilets and the elevator. Judging from the gunshots, I’d say both are out of the question.’

‘Do you think these people are here to kill, or just capture?’ She tried to look above her desk, ‘We can’t risk exposing ourselves if it isn’t life threatening.’

‘Is anyone fighting back?’

She risked another look, ‘Just a few people, everyone else seems to be on the ground. I think they’re handcuffing people and gathering them near the lift.’

‘Yes,’ she heard him move, ‘That would be correct.’

“If you don’t fight, Miss,” a male voice said, “You won’t be hurt.” She was pulled up and riot cuffs were put on her hands.

“Wha…What’s going on?” The men ignored her, “Please tell me.”

“We are not authorized to tell you anything, now be quiet.” He talked into a walkie-talkie, “Area secure, no casualties. Over.”

“Copy that,” crackled a voice on the other end.

There were thirty people, waiting silently by the lift. “We will be taking you up in groups of six,” one of the masked men said. Hermione and Malfoy were in the third group. Once on the ground level, they were loaded into black vans.

‘Are these government trucks?’ Hermione asked as she was lifted inside.

‘It would appear so.’

‘Do you think that it’s possible that MI5 was investigating SecureCo at the same time we were?’

He barely shrugged, ‘I’m a wizard, as far as I’m concerned, almost anything is possible.’

Good point. The van had no windows and they took so many turns that Hermione lost count. Eventually, probably only fifteen or twenty minutes later, the van came to a stop. The doors flew open.

“Everyone out, hands on your heads,” barked one of the men. “Now!”

Hermione, being one of the last people put in the van, was one of the first out. Another of the black clad men pulled her aside. The building looked like a parking garage, but with very few cars, and it felt like an underground structure. They lined everyone up in two rows. Malfoy was right behind her. Within minutes they were led into two lifts under strict orders to remain silent. The elevators opened to a bank of holding cells. All of the prisoners were put into two large cells. Two armed guards stayed outside the cells. A man was called away first, a few minutes later they called away a woman. Hermione thought they were partners. It was over an hour before anyone else came for new people. The man and the woman didn’t return.

Another hour passed, two more partners were taken. Then another, and another. By Hermione’s calculations, there was no clock in the room, they’d been sitting in the cell silently, for over six hours. The only deviation was an hour previous, one of the guards brought bottles of water and ham sandwiches for the remaining prisoners. Finally, Hermione and Malfoy were the last two prisoners in either cell. “Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy, come with us please.

They were led down a nondescript hallway and then separated. One of the guards took Hermione, the other led Malfoy away. Her guard took her to a room. It didn’t look like another cell, or like any interrogation room she’d ever seen on television. There were two chairs seated across from each other, separated by a kitchen table. Another chair sat against the wall. There was the requisite mirror on the wall, and she knew someone was looking in, ready to record any conversation she had.

The guard directed Hermione to a chair, she sat down and he took off her handcuffs. Then he left. Hermione looked around the room, but it was empty, then she just stared at the mirror. There was nothing better to do. A different guard came in a few minutes later, he put a Styrofoam cup in front of her. “It’s a milkshake, vanilla.” Then he walked out. If this really was MI5, they wouldn’t poison her without really good reason, so she took a sip. It tasted fine, and pleasantly poison free. ‘Anyone begin questioning you yet, Malfoy?’ she asked.

‘No, I believe they’re trying to bore a question out of me. I take it they haven’t interrogated you either.’

‘Sadly, no, I hope they can finish this quickly. And by finish, I mean set us free before morning.’

‘Have we done anything illegal?’

Hermione thought for a few moments. Could Malfoy be serious? Though this assignment leaned more toward corporate espionage, rather than treason, it was still highly illegal. ’Yes.’

‘Muggles have laws for the strangest things.’

‘Stealing from a company is a strange law?’ Was she really having a philosophical conversation with Draco Malfoy?

‘The company isn’t a person, and it isn’t even a wizarding company.’

‘Would it be that much different if it were a wizard’s company? Any wizard’s?’

He caught her meaning, ’Yes, any wizard’s company should be protected from robbery, but that is why we have spells. If a company, especially a security company, can’t protect itself, why shouldn’t it be robbed?’

‘So those who can’t protect themselves have it coming? The weak should be taken advantage of by the strong?’

‘Not arbitrarily, of course. But if you can’t protect yourself…someone’s here to question me.’ He paused, listening to a question posed by his interrogator. ‘Hmm, is it true that you’re about to turn on me, talk about all of my nefarious dealings with SecureCo?’

‘Most assuredly not.’

‘Good, I thought so, these questions should be pretty routine, I’ll give you a ring if I need to fix a story with you.’

‘Alright,’ she stopped tuning into his thoughts. At least he seemed to be in a better mood now. Apparently, prison would suit him well. She looked around the room again, this time stretching her neck, it popped as she rotated it from side to side.

‘Have we ever met outside of work for social interaction? Their phrasing not mine.’

‘We went out to lunch once on our first day of work to become better acquainted. We didn’t meet each other except for when you went out with Alissa.’

‘Got it.’ The door to her room creaked open ominously. Hermione watched patiently as a man stepped through. “Most of the others were pacing by this point, Miss Granger. You, however, seem quite calm.” Hermione didn’t answer his implied question. She wasn’t in the mood for witty repartee. He cleared his throat, “Anyway, my partner will be along shortly, I’d just like to get a few preliminary questions out of the way.”

“I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” The man gave her a tight lipped smile. “Could I know your name?” She asked, “As a show of trust.”

“Yes, of course,” He said, “Andrew MacArthur, Agent MacArthur.”

Well, she thought, At least it’s not James Bond. “Your preliminary questions?” She was tired of sitting around in silence.

“State your name.” He pulled out a clipboard and a pen.

“Hermione Granger.”

“State your occupation.”

“Systems analyst for SecureCo Inc.” He scribbled frantically.

“Length of occupation.”

Hermione thought for a moment, “A few weeks at Sublevel Two, maybe a month. A couple months before that in my old office.” More frantic scribbling.

“Did you have a partner at Sublevel Two?”

Hermione wanted to roll her eyes. “Yes,” she said.

“What is his name?”

“His name is Draco Malfoy.”

“Yes, alright, thank you. My partner should be here any minute now. Really, I wonder where she is.” The door opened, probably cued by his rehearsed line.

Hermione saw a woman’s manicured hand, followed by a leg, than a torso, another arm and finally a head. Her jaw almost dropped, undoubtedly, her face looked shocked. “Alissa?”

Chapter Ten

Everything suddenly clicked for Hermione. The mix-up of what city Alissa went to, the injured arm, the little box that must have been a lock picking kit, and, most importantly, the dist. She’d been using Hermione the same way Hermione had been using her. She wasn’t angry, but Hermione knew a normal Muggle would be. Hermione could only appreciate the irony of the situation. “You’ve been using me all this time?” Hermione asked harshly, “I thought you were my friend.”

“Are you aware that SecureCo Inc is a front for a Spanish terrorist group known as Las Brujas?” Agent MacArthur asked.

Act shocked, Hermione told herself, no witty remarks. “Of course not!” Indignation was fine, “I don’t know much about SecureCo.”

“Tell us what you know.”

“I was told that SecureCo is run by a man named Marcus Vaughn, his son, Julian, will inherit the company. They make top of the line security systems for anything that may need it, computers, cars, homes, you name it. They’ve only been around for about ten years.”

“You said you were a systems analyst, but what exactly did you do?”

“I ran various tests on computer security systems, checking for errors.”

The man wrote down her answers. Alissa was studying her strangely. “Did you ever run into anything out of the ordinary?”

Hermione kept quiet for a moment, pretending to think, “No, the systems are state of the art, amazing, but not strange.”

“I see, explain your relationship with Julian Vaughn.”

At this point, Hermione knew, a normal Muggle would be offended. “We had coffee, I don’t see how that is relevant. Are you going to delve more into my private life fishing for nonexistent information, or may I leave?”

“Would you like something to drink?”

This almost threw Hermione off, she said, “No, thank you,” as curtly as possible. Alissa nodded. Agent MacArthur stood up and they walked out of the room. Unlike on television, they didn’t face a glass door and talk right in front of her. They closed the door and walked far enough away so that she couldn’t hear them.

A few minutes later, the two MI-5 agents came back. “You’re free to go,” Alissa said, “Though we may need to contact you at a later date.”

“I’m in the process of moving,” she said, glaring at Alissa, “You know my mobile number.” She stood up and walked past her interrogators. A nervous looking man led her to the exit. Malfoy was waiting for her.

“They didn’t use the thumbscrews with you either?” The receptionist raised her eyebrows. Hermione couldn’t help it, she burst into hysterical laughter. After a minute, Malfoy said, “Damn, Granger, it wasn’t that funny.”

Hermione walked out of the office still laughing. Malfoy followed. Once they were on the street, she gasped out, “Alissa’s MI-5.”

Evidently, Malfoy didn’t find humor in the situation, “Your roommate?”

The smile wiped off of her face, “She’s been spying on the company for a long time.” After that, Hermione fell silent.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“It’s nothing important.” She didn’t have any place to stay. Even if Alissa would let her stay in the flat, Hermione didn’t want to. “Did you drive to the office today?”

“No.”

“Well, that’s good.” She couldn’t think of what else to day, but something was nagging at her. “Have you ever heard of Las Brujas?”

“It’s an amateur Quidditch team, probably thought they were clever, why?”

“What does it mean?”

“The witches, why is it so important?”

“SecureCo was a front for a group called Las Brujas, isn’t today just full of irony?” She walked off, heading for the nearest tube station. Malfoy would probably just write the mission off as a failure and return to their employer, but Hermione had to many questions and next to no answers. When she reached the flat, she walked straight to her room and packed up enough clothes for a week, her toiletries, and her computer.

For the first time in her life she was on her own. Her friends and family couldn’t help her, to them she was just a ministry flunky, going to her employer was impossible, once they found out that she knew something was amiss, she’d be the target of assassins from London to Timbuktu. And Malfoy, well, that was obvious.

She walked out of the flat, bag in tow. Once on the street she heard a radio blasting the date, time and temperature. She was hours late for dinner with her parents, and they had no way of contacting her. She whipped out her mobile and punched in the number. Her mother picked up.

“Mum, hey,” she said, “I am so sorry about dinner. There was some trouble at work.”

“Nothing to serious, I hope.”

Hermione winced. “No, nothing to serious.” It hurt lying to her mother. But now, more than ever it was important. The silence stretched between them. “I need to go, Mum, I’m using a payphone and there are people waiting. I’ll stop by soon.” I hope.

“Oh, alright. I’ll tell your father you called. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Hermione hung up her mobile and stuck it in her pocket. Now, Hermione felt like scum, or worse. Not only did she need to lie to her mother about where and who she worked for, but even her methods of communication because, Merlin knew, wizards did not need mobile phones, or house phones for that matter. But she needed to deal with crisis number three, not thirty-seven. It was so much easier when Voldemort was trying to kill us. She laughed, who would’ve thought that Hermione Granger, of all people, would lament the present day and wish to be back before he died.

‘Granger?’

It was Malfoy, intruding her thoughts loud and clear from across the city. ‘What?’ she snapped.

‘We’ve got a problem.’

This was classic. ‘We’ve got a problem? Right, give it a number and tell it to get in line. I have enough problems as it is.’

‘This one could land us both dead or worse in seventy-two hours.’

Well, in that case, ‘Look, the number one slot just opened up. How convenient.’

‘Can you meet me somewhere?’

‘Why not your flat?’

He paused, thinking before willing a thought to her, they were getting good at not leaking personal thoughts, ‘It’s a little…messy.’

When she’d been there it was meticulously clean. Malfoy wouldn’t let it look bad, it might ruin his image. She got the picture, ‘Where then?’

‘I’ll pick you up at your old flat. We’ll figure something out.’

At least he understood what was going on with her living situation. ‘That’s fine.’ She walked the short distance back to the building and sat on the bench out front. The light from the street lamp cast a glow on the bench, making it seem lighter outside than it was.

Someone sat down next to her. “I know you probably hate me right now, but just let me say something.”

“Make it quick,” said Hermione, “Someone’s picking me up.”

“I’m sorry. It’s inadequate, I know, but I couldn’t tell you. SecureCo was…is…bad, I couldn’t…”

“Trust me. You couldn’t trust me, Alissa.”

“No,” she said, “I couldn’t tell you. I’ve always trusted you.”

“What if the situation were reversed, and I was the spy? Wouldn’t you feel hurt, betrayed?”

“Well, I suppose--”

“You would, and I do. And my hypothetical question doesn’t even matter because it is the way it is. You’re right, I’m sorry is inadequate. I really don’t want to see you right now, just go inside before I say something that we’ll both regret.”

Alissa stood up, but before walking away, she said, “I know you’re hiding something.” After her cryptic announcement, she walked inside.

Malfoy pulled up a few minutes later. “So, Malfoy,” she said brightly, “How has your day been?”

“Long,” he said shortly, “But I believe both of us are past the phase in our partnership for awkward small talk.” He said nothing, staring at the road with a harsh set to his mouth.

He was being cold, now, almost like the Slytherin prince he’d been at Hogwarts. She thought she knew where she stood with Malfoy, apparently, she was wrong. “If you’re going to be a bastard, fine, I don’t care, but at least hold it in for three days. If were both alive after that, say whatever you want.”

“I don’t want to fight with you, Granger.”

“Sure had me fooled.” They lapsed back into silence.

He drove for several more minutes until finally parking. “It’s only a block away.”

They walked the distance to a restaurant. “A Chinese restaurant? Do you know how cliché that is? Were having a clandestine meeting here?”

He walked inside, not answering her. By the time she’d walked through the two heavy doors he was already being led to a table. “Japanese.”

“What?”

“This is a Japanese restaurant, and most of the English speaking clientele comes here during the day. At night, the few people who come here tend to speak Japanese, they’d be hard pressed to understand an English conversation while speaking in their tongue.”

The waitress came up to them, “Kon ban wa.”

“Kon ban wa,” Malfoy replied, “Ni ocha o kudasai.”

“Hai.” She said, and walked away.

“You speak Japanese?”

He shrugged, “It’s just a little something I picked up.”

“I’m sure.” The Yakuza probably had a contingent of Death Eaters. “I’d like a tea, though, when she comes back.”

He smirked, “That’s what I ordered for you.”

“Gee, thanks, Malfoy.” The waitress brought them their teas and left with a little bow. He didn’t say anything about the threat he received, just sat silently drinking his tea. She drank two, he wouldn’t talk until he was ready. It took him over five minutes.

“My flat was a mess when I went back. They didn’t even try to clean up, clothes out of the drawers, papers on the floor. Nothing was stolen though, it was just a message. The actual message was a clue to that though.” He pulled a sheet of paper out of his pocket.

“You have seventy-two hours to find and deliver the security system, or else.”

“They’re really going for subtlety. What do you want to do about it?”

“Find and deliver the security system.”

“They’re threatening our lives,” she said harshly, “You just want to hand them something that could endanger wizard kind?”

“They want the security system, not the bioweapon.”

“And what makes you so sure those two things aren’t connected?”

“I don’t know. But I don’t really have warm and fuzzy feelings about being threatened by my employer. They could kill us, you know.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “I’ve looked death in the eyes. I’ve been bloodied, and I’ve bloodied others, and that isn’t false bravado or pride talking, it’s the truth. After all the times your dad’s boss tried to kill me, I can’t fear death all to much.”

“Has not dieing given you a sense of immortality?”

“I’m perfectly aware of my mortality, thank you, but if someone’s going to kill me, they’ll kill me. I’ll dodge and throw as many curses as I can until then.”

“You really mean that?”

Somehow he couldn’t grasp the concept. “You’ve never been in an actual battle, have you? All those years, and never once.”

He was silent, but that was answer enough.

“I’m not giving them anything, Malfoy. I’ll fight you, if I have to, but I’m finding what I can, and I will destroy the people we work for.” She said it with conviction. Alone, she could do it, but in bringing down the organization, she would probably die. With Malfoy’s help, as much as she was loathe to admit it, they had a glimmer of a chance.

“And the threat?”

“The way I see it, they gave us a seventy-two hour head start. And, believe me, that is the longest I’ve ever had.” He seemed to want to side with her.

“What are the odds, do you think?”

“Alone, we’re both dead. Together, it’s 50/50.” She didn’t mention that 50/50 meant at least on of them would survive. Hopefully.

“50/50?”

“It’s better than certain death.”

He nodded, “Good point.”

“You’re not a good guy, Malfoy, why are you even thinking of siding with me? Not that I’m pushing you away, you’re all I’ve got right now.”

He thought for a moment, “I may be bad, and I may be prejudiced, but I don’t want to kill our entire race. That’s just stupid, as far as I can tell. And giving one organization that neither of us know anything reliable about a tool that could wipe us out is stupid, as well.”

Hermione was shocked. He sounded sincere. “You’re telling me that you, Draco Malfoy, want to save the wizarding world? Mudbloods like me included.”

“For the first time in our lives, Granger, we’re on the same side. By choice.”

It was an interesting way to phrase it, but utterly correct. In the last weeks they’d been forced to work together, but now, this was their agreement, on their terms. “So we have a deal?” She asked.

“Indeed we do.”

“Let’s toast it then, before the tea is too cold.” She held up her cup, “To choice.”

“To choice.”

Chapter Eleven

“So what now?” Malfoy asked. “Partnership was your idea, I assume you have a plan?”

‘Pretentious git,’ she thought, not caring if he heard, but guarding the thought anyway. “Partnership, Malfoy, it means we both have a say in things. But since you seem to like being ordered around, I’d say the first order of business is finding a place to stay.”

“We have seventy-two hours and you’re worried about sleep?”

She sighed, “I’m tired, yes, but I’m more concerned about having a base of operations. Your flat is probably being watched by our employer, my flat is probably being watched by our employer and MI-5, not to mention, it’s Alissa’s flat, too--”

Malfoy held up a hand. “We keep assuming that’s a bad thing, but what if it’s not?”

“She’s an agent of the British government and has been spying on me for months. Not to mention, she’s a Muggle. How are those things not bad?”

“I’d be willing to wager that she knows more about SecureCo and Las Brujas than we do.”

He had a point, “Why would she help us?”

“What do you think bringing down something like Las Brujas would do for her career? It would make her, she’d probably be put into the super spy hall of fame, if there is such a thing.”

“But why would she risk her career, and believe me, it would be a risk, to help two ‘Muggle’ civilians? She’ll automatically be suspicious.”

“She knows, or at least, could know that wizarding kind exists. I say we give her proof in the flesh, so to speak.”

“And when scientists lock us up for study because she turned us over to them?”

“I’ll admit that I was wrong. Call her, we can always wiper her memory if it doesn’t work.”

That was how, less than an hour later, Hermione found herself in a doughnut shop sipping coffee and waiting for Alissa. When she saw her at the door she said to Malfoy, “Last chance to back out.”

He scoffed, “Malfoys never back out.”

Alissa said down after getting a tea. “Hermione,” she said in greeting, “Draco.” They sat silently, no one daring to speak. Finally Alissa said, “You said you had some interesting information for me.”

They’d decided that Malfoy would speak first. “You need information, we need information. I can’t give you all that I know until you agree to trade, but I can promise that if you do, what we tell you could be vital in destroying Las Brujas.”

“What do you know about Las Brujas?”

He shook his head. “We need you to agree first.”

She thought for a long moment, greed battling with logic. Finally, greed one, “Alright, we’ll trade. You first. But if what you say isn’t worth anything, I’m walking.”

Malfoy nodded to Hermione. “You said I was hiding something,” she said. “You’re right.” Alissa didn’t look shocked, she just raised an eyebrow. Maybe she was a Slytherin in another life. “I’m a witch, Malfoy there is a wizard.”

She started to stand up. “You’re wasting my time.”

“Accio salt shaker,” Malfoy said, pointing his wand.

“You expect me to believe some sleight of hand parlor trick,” she picked up the saltshaker, checking its authenticity. Disappointed with her results, she said, “The hand is quicker than the eye.”

“How long are you going to pretend not to believe us?” asked Hermione. “We don’t have all night.”

“Pretend?”

“Remember that disk? The one detailing a bioweapon designed to destroy wizard kind? The one I pretended that I hadn’t read?”

Alissa sat back down, “Fine, I was aware of your…kind. Why are you telling me now? And, why do you care about Las Brujas? And what do you know about them?”

“Not much.”

“Then why am I even here?” Alissa stood up.

“Sit back down, Alissa,” said Malfoy.

“You have nothing for me.”

“Actually,” said Hermione, “We may. Please, sit.”

Alissa sat.

“Five years ago,” said Hermione, “There was a war between wizards. It was bad, a lot of people died, my best friend and Malfoy’s father, among others. This wasn’t a war for territory, it was based on one side’s belief that certain wizards were intrinsically better than others. These people, Death Eaters, were led by a man called Lord Voldermort. He and his followers killed, tortured, and performed other atrocities against people like you and people like me, Muggles and Muggleborns.”

“What about him?” Alissa nodded to Malfoy.

“Malfoy is what is called a Pureblood. They’re like the Aryans of wizard kind.”

“So the man was like Hitler?”

“It’s not a bad comparison. My best friend killed him five years ago. The war, for all intents and purposes ended. Many of the Death Eaters were punished, some weren’t. But the beliefs still survive today. Malfoy and I believe that Las Brujas is made up of former Death Eaters trying to punish the magical world for letting people like me in.”

“What about Draco?”

“What about him?”

“What did he do in the war? You said you lost a friend and your other friend defeated the Lord person. So, what was his job?”

Hermione looked at Malfoy. It was his decision to talk about his role.

“I was a Death Eater.”

“Oh.” There was a moment of tense silence. Then, “How can you work with him?”

“Neither of us has a choice at this point.”

“I see.”

“Please, Alissa,” said Hermione, “We need to know about Las Brujas.”

Alissa took a deep breath, “They’re a fairly new player, so to speak. We’ve only known about them for a year, maybe less. But just because they’re new doesn’t mean they’re not dangerous. They killed my partner today, hard to believe it‘s still today.”

“I’m sorry. Who was he?”

“His name was Marcus Rickson, he worked in accounting. We were trying to catch SecureCo with accounting fraud, or just get a clue, but they found us first. The disk we have, I take it you made a copy?”

Malfoy nodded.

“That seems to be their most ambitious project. Until you told me otherwise, I assumed they were a human threat, not wizards.”

“We’re still human, Alissa.”

“Right, then, we thought they were Muggles. So you think they’ll use this as a way to dissuade certain types of people from using magic?’

Malfoy snorted, “That would be the best case scenario. With the competition gone, they could potentially start enslaving Muggles. Not all of them, not yet, but sometime during our lives, most Muggles could be enslaved and only Purebloods, and Half bloods deemed worthy would possess magic.”

“It seems like you’ve thought this out.”

“I was a Death Eater for a long time.”

“What else do you know about them?”

“Not much, but there is one man who may know something. He’s been a helpful resource for the Department of Paranormal and Abnormal Incidents.” She took a card out of her pocket and wrote the name and contact information down, “He may know more, but I’ve told you all I can.” She stood up, “You’re not coming back to the flat?”

“I’ll come back to pick up my things in a few days.”

“I see. Good night, then.” Alissa walked out of the doughnut shop.

“I saw a suitable hotel on our way here,” said Malfoy. Mentally, he added, ‘Do you think she’ll follow us?’

‘Is the Pope Catholic?’

‘What?’

‘It means yes, Malfoy. Cast a cloaking spell on yourself and then we’ll go.’

‘How will you follow me, oh brilliant one?’

‘Telepathically, besides, I know what hotel you saw. Two blocks down and to the right?’

He said nothing, just nodded, angry that she was right. The spell they were using would not make them invisible, but it would make them appear like something else. Most importantly, Alissa wouldn’t follow them.

They arrived to the hotel safely and rented a room for the night. Once they were in the room (with two beds, thankfully), Hermione asked, “Have you ever heard of Arnold Welby?”

“No.”

“I’ll call him in the morning. I doubt he’d be too receiving at 1,” she glanced at the clock, “47.”

“Yeah,” Now, Malfoy got quiet, he was sitting on one of the beds.

“I’m going to wash up and go to sleep, you should do the same.”

“Did you really kill him?” He asked quietly.

Hermione turned around and sat down next to him. “I wish I could say no with certainty. But I honestly don’t know.”

“How can you not know?” He stood up and started pacing. “You should know who you murder.”

“First of all, Malfoy,” she stood up and got in his way, “It was war, not murder, and second of all, I never cast the killing curse, alright? I killed people, yes, but never with magic. If he died by me, it wasn’t from a curse.”

“Why didn’t you use magic?” They were close now, staring at each other.

She didn’t back down, “They’re called Unforgivable Curses for a reason. Besides, it’s a matter of principle.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Bullshit?”

“I’m sure that even insufferable know it all, Hermione Granger, has heard the term.”

“Why do you call my principles bullshit, Malfoy?”

“You’re a witch, Granger, you act like one at any other time, why not during battle. If I’m not mistaken, murder is illegal among Muggles?”

“Yes, what--”

“However, in times of war, this practice is not only allowed, but, in fact, encouraged, correct?”

“Yes, Malfoy, killing tends to be condoned during wartime.”

“Aren’t Muggles issued guns for battle, when in everyday possession of a gun is, in most cases, illegal?”

She rolled her eyes, “Yes, Malfoy. Extreme measures and all of that.”

“You wouldn’t call a war against the Dark Lord an extreme measure? How many hundreds, if not thousands of people died fighting him? Do you think the dead were grateful that you could keep your conscience intact?”

She didn’t have a response, “I’m going to wash up and catch a little sleep. I’d suggest you do the same.”

“You always do that, you know?”

“Do what?”

“You’ll figure it out.” He turned out the light next to his bed and lay down. Hermione went into the bathroom. When she was done, she went to sleep.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, not this again.” Malfoy was sitting on a stool in what appeared to be the house she grew up in.

“Like I want to be here either.” He snapped.

“It’s not the locale I have a problem with, it’s the company. For your information, I’m never going to agree to anything you suggest ever again.”

“That’ll make our partnership rather difficult, won’t it?”

“I guess I’ll just have to call all of the shots.”

He rolled his eyes, “I walked into that one, didn’t I?”

“Very much so.” Hermione stood still for a moment and then came to a decision, “Bye, Malfoy,” she said.

Hermione opened her eyes and looked around, she knew the memory immediately. ‘Not this,’ she thought, ‘Was Malfoy really that bad?’

He probably was.

It was just after Ron’s funeral, she saw herself and Harry. “Come with me…please,” she heard her other self say.

She knew where this would lead, and she knew she couldn’t stop it, but that didn’t stop her from trying. She ran to the ghosts of the past, “Don’t go with me,” she screamed at Harry, but he didn’t hear her.

Her old self and Harry walked to an inn in Hogsmeade, they said nothing, they didn’t need to. Harry rented a room. They walked up the stairs, hand in hand. When they reached the door, Harry opened it, neither of them hesitated. Both knew what would happen.

Still, they didn’t speak.

It wasn’t awkward, it should have been. He kissed her, hard, like he wanted to crawl inside her mouth. It was violent and needy.

Hermione, the real Hermione, turned away. She’d seen in, and done it all before.

“Surprise, surprise,” Malfoy said, standing behind her, “Apparently, you’re not as innocent as I thought.”

Chapter Twelve

A few moments later, Hermione woke up. Malfoy’s eyes were open, too, she turned over to face the wall. Malfoy didn’t say anything, but she could feel his eyes on her back, it was incredibly uncomfortable. The sheets on his bed rustled, he must have turned over. She looked down at her watch, 7:41.

What the hell?

The curtains were drawn, so the room was still dark, but light was peeking in. How hat thy slept so late? She shot up from the bed, “Malfoy,” she hissed, looking at him, “Wake up.”

He turned back over, opened one eye, and didn’t sound at all drowsy, “What is it, Granger?”

“It’s 7:41. Wake up.”

Now he shot up, “Are you so stupid that you can’t wake up on time?”

“Go get ready, Malfoy, I’m calling Welby.”

He threw his sheets off and stalked to the bathroom. Hermione almost expected him to hiss and curse.

Hermione picked up the phone and dialed. “Hello, this is Arnold,” said a man with a nasally voice.

“Mr. Welby, I was given your name by a mutual friend.”

“Really now,” he said, “And who would this friend be?”

“Alissa Dorian.”

“I see. And why did Alissa give you my name?”

“Las Brujas.”

H sucked in a breath, “I’ve told Agent Dorian and now I’ll tell you, I have already given her everything I know.”

“I don’t work with Alissa, she just gave me your name. Please meet with me.”

“What’s your name?”

“Laura Jones.”

“I can meet with you for an hour at nine AM.”

She told him the name of their hotel and asked him to meet them in the lobby. He agreed.

Malfoy came out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Put a shirt on, the glare from your chest is going to blind me.”

“You were looking at my chest?” He smirked like he’d won a point in their game of wits.

“You’re so radiant, I thought you were a fluorescent light.”

“What, do I not have enough scars to meet your standards?”

Now, she was lost, “What are you talking about?”

“You fucked Scarhead, but my chest makes you cringe.” He met her eyes and she knew that he hadn’t meant to say it.

“Welby s meeting us in the lobby at nine, he thinks my name is Laura Jones. I didn’t tell him about you, just pick a name and tell it to me, I’m taking a shower.”

At five to nine, they went downstairs. Welby was waiting. “Mr. Welby?” asked Hermione, he nodded, “I’m Laura. I’m sorry that I didn’t mention him earlier, this is Jake Mallory. If you don’t mind, w have a room upstairs where we could speak privately.”

“That would be fine.”

They went back upstairs, there were three chairs in the room. Malfoy and Hermione sat next to each other, facing Welby.

“I take it that you know the…truth of Las Brujas?” asked Welby.

“We do,” said Malfoy. “And we’d like to know exactly how you know about them.”

“My family was destroyed by their members.” He paused and looked each of them in the eye, “I am not like the remnants of my family.”

“They’re wizards. Aren’t they?” asked Hermione.

“Yes, I am what is called a squib. I can’t do magic.”

They nodded, “We’re aware of what squibs are, Mr. Welby. But let’s get to what we’re here for. Las Brujas.”

“About five years ago there was a war.”

“We don’t need a history lesson,” said Hermione, “We know about Voldemort.”

“Alright, well, his followers, the Death Eaters, were not all captured or killed when he was defeated. Some were acquitted of their crimes, others remain at large even today. Many of the higher ranking members formed a new group, Las Brujas.”

“Do they hold to the tenants of Voldemort’s regime?”

“More or less,” he paused, “They want a new order in which they rule. The biggest difference, I suppose, is that thy are willing to let Muggle-borns work for them.”

Hermione felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. “Do you have a list of names?”

“I can write one out, have you a sheet of paper and a pen.”

Malfoy handed him the requested items.

Welby scribbled down names for the better part of five minutes. Finally, he folded the sheet in half and handed it to Hermione. “Is there anything else you need?”

“No,” said Malfoy, “Thank you for your time.”

Everyone stood up, shook hands, and Welby left. As soon as the door closed, Hermione sat down and looked at the list. “Finally,” Malfoy said, “Well, Granger?”

She sat very still and said quietly, “Nott, Hartinger, Parkinson, Bonfleur, Vuloff, Lestrange,” she paused and met his eyes, “Malfoy…Granger.”

Malfoy sat down, “I guess we don’t have to look very far for Las Brujas. It’s Bellatrix?”

“Yes, you precious is on the list. Along with many of your former housemates.”

“Come off it, Granger. If you would stop to think even for a minute, you’d realize that this is actually really good news!”

“I do realize that! Don’t you get it, I knew we were working for the enemy, but now I have proof. This practically makes me a Death Eater.”

Malfoy grabbed her shoulders, “No, it doesn’t. You’re still a good guy, still a Gryffindor, and you’re still Harry Bloody Potter’s best friend. Snap out of it!”

And that did it, she looked up at him with fire in her eyes, “Don’t touch me.” She stood up and started pacing, “Bellatrix was high ranking.” It wasn’t a question, but Malfoy nodded anyway. “She’s the leader, it only makes sense that one of Voldemort’s lieutenants would lead the new order.”

“I was thinking the same thing.”

“Are you in contact with her?”

He looked scandalized, “Why, Miss Granger! Bellatrix Lestrange has been in hiding for over five years. How would an upstanding citizen like myself be in contact with a fugitive like her?”

She actually smiled, “Can you contact her?”

“I can.”

“Will you?”

Partners, Malfoy knew, couldn’t do everything together. But he did not want to face his aunt alone. They were partners, though. “I’ll need to go to the Manor and speak with my mother. I’ll probably meet with Lestrange this afternoon. We’ll meet at King’s Cross at 6:00. If I’m more than ten minutes late, I’m not coming.”

Hermione nodded in understanding. The Malfoy’s were a dangerous family and Draco was more than aware of that, after all, he was one of them. “Good luck,” she said.

He wasn’t expecting to hear that, “Thank you.” And then he was gone, apparated away to see his mother, and, more importantly, his aunt.

Hermione looked at the list again, Welby’s writing was sloppy, so she transferred it to a new sheet, putting the names in alphabetical order, she decided that wasn’t good enough, so she put them in order of their suspected ranks.

Finally, she set out separate sheets of paper and wrote all of the names separately, one per sheet.

Katrina Hartinger, pureblood witch, 43, unmarried, one
daughter. Suspected of Death Eater activity. Brought to
Trial March 4 of last year, acquitted.

That was all Hermione knew about her. There had been so many Death Eaters, so many trials, that there was no way she could remember them all, just the ones that affected hr life, like Bellatrix Lestrange and Nott.

But there were more names than just Lestrange, Nott, and Parkinson. She hadn’t even read the whole list. Welby had given them twenty names, she knew five, including Malfoy and herself.

It had been so much easier when she could just run down to the library at Hogwarts and research those thousands of books. Now, she had to take a trip to Flourish and Blotts.

The wizard’s bookstore was much the same as it had been when she was eleven years old. However, she hadn’t seen it as full as it was since Gilderoy Lockhart made an appearance before her second year. Then she saw a sign: “Harry Potter Visits for the FIRST TIME in Five Years!”

Well, that explained it. Harry may have been her best friend, but she really couldn’t see him today. She grabbed three books about Death Eaters, paid, and apparated back to the hotel.

It was 12:41. She had six hours until Malfoy came back with whatever his aunt would tell him. She opened one of her Death Eater books for information about Henri Bonfleur.

Born in Nice, 1957, wife, Marie, deceased, 1994, two children,
Henri and Jacques, both Head Boys at Beauxbatons. Suspected
of torturing Muggle children and killing Muggle adults. Acquitted
due to insufficient evidence.

Hermione slammed the book shut, sometimes the wizarding justice system wasn’t fair. After the fall of Voldemort, many of the former Death Eaters hadn’t been killed or sent to prison because of politics. To many sympathizers had power in the Ministry, they made sure the actual followers weren’t punished to harshly. Most just paid fines. She continued to read through the first book, making notes whenever she encountered a name on the list. Most of the former Death Eaters had been leaders of certain sects of followers, others had been lieutenants.

There were only two names on her lists that weren’t in the Death Eater books, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy.

It was 2:30. Hermione was done with the first book and well into the second. This books was almost glorifying the Death Eaters. It was like a text for the religion of Voldemort. She hadn’t seen the word ‘Mudblood’ so many times since she was in school.

She flipped through the rest of the books and was glad to put it down. It was 3:13. She’d been looking at her books for three hours, Malfoy had three more to gather his information. She needed to keep working. Malfoy was a professional, he’d be fine.

There was one last book: British Purebloods and Their Loyalties. Lucius Malfoy was on the first page. Ten of the twenty names were in the book, but Draco only had a paragraph dedicated to him.

Over the past five years, Draco Malfoy had become a mystery. He’d simply disappeared from the books after Hogwarts. It was 4:45. Malfoy had less than an hour and a half left. She kept reading the book, at 5:45 she apparated to the train station.

He wasn’t there, but she didn’t expect him to be early. At 6:05 she admitted that she was worried. By 6:09 she was almost panicking.

“Miss me, Granger?” Malfoy was standing in front of her, smirking.

She slapped his arm, “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“You’ve finally caught onto my evil plan. Damn, I thought I could hide it.” They both laughed. Then, realizing who they were with, stopped abruptly.

“No one followed you?”

“No.”

“Then let’s go back.”

Once they arrived at their room they sat in the chairs. “So?” Hermione finally said.

“Aunt Bella offered me a position as a trainer. It pays about five times more than I’m making now and there’s very little danger involved.”

“Did you accept?”

He was quiet for a moment. “No, how can I give up the wonderful company my partner provides?”

“I’m sure. Did you find out anything useful?”

“Another list of members, the history, the justification, headquarters,” he paused and met her eyes, “All in all, the trip wasn’t very helpful.”

She rolled her eyes, “Obviously not a fruitful venture. Are you going to tell me the specifics, or are you just going to let me guess?”

“I should probably make you pay for it.” He mused.

“How very Slytherin of you.”

“But I’m feeling generous today. We’re going to Zurich.”

“People love to hide in Switzerland,” she muttered.

“What?”

She shook her head, “Nothing important. When are we going?”

“As soon as possible, but we need a plan. I doubt we can just walk in to their building and ask them to stop being evil.”

“Well, what if we’re really polite about it? You really don’t think that will work? Why not, I’m sure their really nice people, just misguided.” His jaw actually dropped.

“Granger…” Hermione laughed.

“I know that these are bad people, Malfoy. Do you know how many people are in Zurich?”

“Somewhere between eighteen and thirty. More if they’re training people. So, can you take care of between nine and fifteen or more highly trained killers by yourself?”

“Can you?”

“If they stand still in a line and let me pick them off one by one, then yes.”

“We need another person,” Hermione suggested slowly, “Probably two. I can take three or four people at once, I have before.”

“Not him,” he didn’t need to say who he was talking about.

“Why not? He’s about as experienced as they come when fighting evil.”

“I don’t trust him, not at my back.”

“Well, I don’t trust you, but it’s not stopping me.”

“We don’t need Harry Potter to fight Las Brujas.”

“Yes, Malfoy, we do.”

“Perfect Potter would not approve of what you’ve been doing these last five years.”

Hermione gave him a glowering look, “That hardly matters. If I ask him, he’ll help us.”

“You.”

“What?”

He put his head in his hands and said quietly, “He’ll help you, Granger. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m Draco Malfoy, schoolyard bully and boyhood bane of The Boy Who Lived.”

She met his eyes, “You’re just afraid to ask him.”

He narrowed his eyes, “Think of someone else.”

“Who? Greg Goyle? Wait, I’m a Mudblood, so that won’t work. Pansy Parkinson? She was on the list, that’s a no. How do you feel about Luna Lovegood?”

“What about Anthony Goldstein?”

Hermione had been hoping that he wouldn’t suggest Anthony. He was one of the few competent alternatives to Harry. “I don’t trust him at my back,” she said, throwing his words back at him.

“As I said before, Granger, I don’t trust you.”

“Harry can do this. He was born to do things like this. We don’t need to worry about him betraying us because even if he would turn on you, he won’t do it to me.”

“Comforting for me,” he continued, “Has it occurred to you that Saint Potter may not care to fight another battle? He spent most of his childhood living under a death threat. He has fought these people before, and he won. He has no need to do it again.”

“Harry and I weren’t Slytherins, Malfoy. If a friend needs help, we’ll come to their aid.”

“Once he knows how deeply I’m involved, he’ll say no.”

“It can’t hurt to ask.”

“How would you contact him, seeing as we have no fireplace, nor do we have an owl?”

She sat there, silent for a moment, and then said, “I usually don’t contact him. It would only be suspicious if I did.”

Malfoy looked like he was going to say something, but he remained silent.

A few minutes passed before Hermione said, “What do we do once we’ve finished?”

He looked confused.

“Do we turn them into our Ministry? The Swiss? What happens?”

“I was under the impression that there wouldn’t be enough of them left to turn in to the Ministry.”

Her eyes widened. “We don’t kill unless we have to! You’re playing with the good guys now, Malfoy, we have mercy.”

“And I wonder how a group like this popped up?” He deadpanned.

“A group like this?” She narrowed her eyes at him, “Your aunt would never have received mercy from us. She and her cohorts were never caught.”

“Then why can’t we kill them now?” He raised his eyebrow.

She was silent, thinking for a moment. “We’re not at war anymore. Sending them to prison may not be as satisfying as killing them, but it’s enough.”

“Are you sure?”

She crossed her arms. “Yes.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“And I don’t care. Do we have any information on the building we’ll be infiltrating? It may prove useful.”

“Yes.”

She nodded, “Good, is it accurate, and how did you get it?”

He sighed, “You need to learn to trust me. It should be accurate, and I looked in my dear auntie’s pensieve.”

“She just leaves that sitting around for anyone to look at?”

“Yes,” he deadpanned, “It’s in the front hall with a little plaque next to it inviting anyone who pleases. Would you like me to tell you what it says verbatim?” He pointed his wand at the bed. A large piece of parchment appeared on the sheets.

Hermione picked it up. The map showed Las Brujas on a hidden floor, 4 and a half. “This is very detailed.”

“Yes, I know.” He was ever so modest.

“I don’t want to make any plans until we have Harry. We’ll leave at nine o’clock tomorrow morning.”

“Very well.”

She handed him the pieces of parchment that were the dossiers of the Las Brujas members. “Study hard,” she said, and picked up her money.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m hungry, there’s a fish and chips place down the street.” She opened the door and heard Malfoy moving behind her. She turned around and saw him putting money in one of his pockets.

“I’m coming with you,” he said.

She raised an eyebrow, “I consider this a break, Malfoy. I don’t want to talk about Las Brujas, or anything else for that matter.”

He shrugged, “I just want food, Granger. No need to talk.”

“Whatever.”

They exited the hotel and onto the dark street. There was silence between them, but it was comfortable. It was a fairly warm night, and the walk was pleasant. A few minutes later they were in front of a building proclaiming Fish and Chips for the world to see. Hermione went in first, she ordered her meal and thanked the girl behind the counter. Then she sat at one of the tables outside. She was surprised when Malfoy sat down across from her.

“Be careful,” she told him, “You’re starting to seem friendly.”

“I thought we weren’t going to talk.”

“That’s better.” The rest of the meal was eaten in silence. She finished before him and started back to the hotel alone, but, jogging, he caught up to her quickly.

“Just going to leave me there alone?” he asked.

“We went there at the same time, Malfoy, but we didn’t go together.”

“Sorry to presume otherwise.”

She stopped walking, and, as she suspected, he stopped with her. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve…you’ve been running hot and cold for the past few days. You snap at me for trying to make casual conversation, but then you were offended because I didn’t wait for you to walk back. So, what the hell is wrong with you?”

He rolled his eyes, “Don’t analyze me.”

“I don’t want to, but I want to understand what’s going on here.”

He laughed a little, it wasn’t joyous, “You and me both.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” he abruptly walked ahead of her into the hotel, leaving her standing in the street.

When she walked into the room, he was sitting in one of the chairs. He ignored her. She grabbed one of the books and sat on the bed. She fell asleep on top of the sheets with the book resting on her chest.

When she woke up, there were covers up to her chin and the book was sitting on the table. She shot a strange look at Malfoy, but he was sleeping. She reasoned that she could have covered herself sometime in the night. Maybe the book slid to the floor and Malfoy moved it so he didn’t stand up in the morning, trip on it, and kill himself. It was farfetched, but it made much more sense than any other theory.

At eight thirty, Malfoy’s wand started poking him. After a few seconds, he woke up and stumbled to the bathroom. He came out a little before nine. They shrunk down all of their bags and went to check out of the hotel. Once that was done, they went into the alley.

“Grab onto my arm.”

“I’ve done this before,” he snapped. He clutched her arm, and she concentrated on apparating to Harry’s house. A few seconds later, they were there.

“Everything intact, Malfoy?” She grinned fiercely.

He looked a little nervous, but he nodded.

“Good,” she knocked on the door.

“Shouldn’t I hide, or something?”

Harry opened the door, his eyes widened, and before either of them saw anything, his wand was out. “Hermione,” he said rather calmly, “Would you care to tell me what the hell is going on here?”

“We need your help.”

“That’s not what I was asking.”

Malfoy touched her arm, “I told you this was a waste of time, Granger.”

“Touch her again, Malfoy, and you won’t have that finger anymore.”

Malfoy raised his hands, as if to show he had no weapon. He wisely stayed quiet.

“We know where Bellatrix Lestrange is, Harry. And we need your help to capture her. She has an entire operation here in Switzerland, and we can shut her down.”

“How is he involved?”

“We’ve been working together for the past few weeks, gathering information and the like. We just found out about the Headquarters recently. We can shut it down, but we need your help.”

Harry lowered his wand, slowly, “Come in.” He kept his eyes glued to Malfoy as they made their way inside. Once in his living room, Harry said, “Take a seat, Hermione.” Malfoy understood and remained standing as the other two sat. “So, what do you know about Bellatrix?”

“Her base of operations is in Zurich,” said Hermione. “Malfoy has a map of the inside.”

“And how do you know it’s not some trap on his part.”

“That’s it,” said Malfoy, “I told you he wouldn’t work with me, Granger.”

Harry pointed at him, “Don’t speak about me like that in my house.”

“Harry,” said Hermione.

“Yes?”

“Grow up.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t like Malfoy, but he’s been helping me for the past few weeks, and we’ve made real progress. If you help us, we can take these people down. These are the same people you faced years ago, and they got away. Isn’t it time for them to pay? Get over your petty differences with Malfoy and work with us, or tell us to get the hell out.”

“I’d hardly call our differences petty.”

“Fine, they’re not petty, but you’re not fifteen anymore. So, are you going to be a man and get over this, or kick us out?”

He was silent for more that a minute. Hermione stood up and was already half way to the door when he said, “Wait, I’ll help you. Capturing Lestrange is too important.”

“Good.” She and Malfoy sat down. Malfoy pointed his wand at the coffee table and the map appeared along with Hermione’s dossiers. “This is what we know.”

Harry shuffled through the papers, “So, what’s your plan?”

“Go in, gather incriminating evidence, capture whoever’s there. It won’t be easy with just the three of us against them, but we can do it.”

“Wait,” said Harry, as if something were just dawning on him, “Why are you two working together? How?”

“You want to tell him or should I?” Malfoy asked her mentally. She could hear him grinning.

“We were working for Las Brujas, Lestrange’s group.”

“What?”

“Here’s the quick version. I was recruited right after Ron died by a man who said he was working for an international wizarding organization. He said that their goal was to stop terrorism in the wizarding world. I signed up. Five years down the road, I was working for them as a spy in a Muggle company called SecureCo. Then Malfoy came along and said he’d been assigned as my partner. We agreed to work together to find out who and what we were actually working for. Then, two days ago, we were told that we had seventy-two hours to find and hand over a security system that could be used to obliterate the wizarding world. We dug deeper, and then it became clear that we were members of Las Brujas and we didn’t know it. Now we want to go in and take them down.”

“It’s really very simple,” added Malfoy.

“I think I understand,” said Harry, “And someday you’ll have to tell me the long version. Let’s come up with a plan then.”

“Good idea.”

Unfortunately, planning was not the foremost in Harry Potter’s mind. One moment, Hermione was leaning forward to rearrange the papers on the coffee table, and the next, Harry pointed his wand at Malfoy and said, “Petrificus Totalus!” As Malfoy froze, Harry turned to her, wand pointed, but he said no curse. She’d had no time to reach for her wand.

“Well, that was well planned,” she sat up slowly, making sure her movements were precise.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Hermione…”

“…but it doesn’t mean you won’t. I know. I’m smarter, but you’re faster.” They’d debated before about who was the better wizard, but their theories had never needed to be tested, until now.

“Granger,” Malfoy said in her head. His body was frozen, but his thoughts weren’t, “Would you care to tell me what the hell is going on?”

“I’m not quite sure myself.” She answered honestly. Harry wasn’t supposed to trick them, she’d never imagined it in a million, okay, maybe a hundred, years.

“Stand up,” Harry told her, levitating Malfoy, “Walk ahead of me.” She took a step before Harry said, “Hands on your head.”

She laced her fingers over her skull and followed his directions. For now, she still had her wand, so the situation wasn’t hopeless, yet. Harry gave her directions to the center of the house where he set Malfoy down in a windowless room. It was more a closet. He ‘accio’d’ Malfoy’s wand and turned his own on her, after performing several complex locking charms on Malfoy’s cell.

“My office, now.” He told her firmly. Now that she knew her destination, she no longer needed directions. Once they were seated in his inner sanctum, he ‘accio’d’ her wand, and she knew that she was in trouble. “You have two minutes to tell me what is going on, starting now.”

This was Soldier Harry, the leader, and she wasn’t quite sure if he was her friend anymore. “Merlin, Harry, I told you the truth! I wouldn’t lie to you, you know that, right? We’ve been friends for almost fifteen years, can’t you trust me?”

“Obviously not.”

“I swear to you, on anything you will accept, that I didn’t know who I was working for, or with, until a few weeks ago.”

“Time’s up. Now it’s my turn.” He opened a drawer on his desk and put her and Malfoy’s wands there. Then he opened another drawer and pulled out a very thick file along with two thinner files. “Did you really think I’ve been a recluse author all of this time?”

“It did seem a little out of character.” He slid the thick folder over to her. There was a picture of Bellatrix Lestrange, along with her name, on the cover. She didn’t need to leaf through it to know what if would say. “The other two are mine and Malfoy’s, right?”

He nodded.

“What’s going on with you, Harry, since when do you keep huge files of your enemies,” and me, “In you desk? Which is great if somebody breaks in, by the way.”

“You think anyone could get to them?”

She shook her head.

“I’ve been investigating Las Brujas for three years.” He said it quietly, “Do you remember when I showed up at your flat last year, so angry I could have killed something?”

“Yes.”

“That was when I found out that you were involved. I couldn’t tell you once I realized that you didn’t know. Believe me, I wanted to, but…” He trailed off, suddenly at a loss for words.

Hermione tried to feel angry, but her rage fizzled out in a matter of seconds. “We sure are great best friends, huh?”

“You’re not going to scream at me?”

She shook her head, “Not yet. Are you going to give me my wand back?”

He shook his head, “Not yet.” He pushed Malfoy’s file at her, when she didn’t pick it up, he said, “Read it. If you knew what Malfoy has been doing, you wouldn’t have come here with him.”

“It really doesn’t matter what he’s been up to, we need each other.” Though she did grab the file.

“Are you sure?”

“Granger, what’s going on?”

“Read the file, Hermione.” He didn’t leave the room, or even pretend to give her room.

Malfoy, Draco
DOB: 5 June 1981
Father: Malfoy, Lucius
Mother: Malfoy, Narcissa Black
Schooling: Hogwarts
House: Slytherin
Former Affiliation: Death Eater
Current Occupation: Las Brujas
Duration: 4.5 years
Knowledge of Employer: most likely
Assignment: Loyalty Confirmation

“He’s looking for spies in Las Brujas?” She asked. Harry nodded. She kept reading. Under his assignment there was a list of half a dozen names. There was no heading, just the list. “Who are they?”

“People who he’s either turned over to be killed, or that he’s killed himself. We’re not sure which.”

“Who is we?”

He took a moment, trying to figure out how to word his answer. “It’s not all that different from Las Brujas, I suppose. Several members from the remnants of the Order and a few people in the Ministry have joined to look for former Death Eaters and then we make them pay.”

“You’re vigilantes.”

“Yes,” he answered, though she hadn’t worded it as a question.

“Why didn’t you ask me to join you?” He’d said that he’d only known about her membership in Las Brujas for a year, but that he’d known of the group for three.

“I didn’t think you would have understood. It’s not like we turn the Death Eaters that we catch over to the Ministry. Some have even been acquitted. It doesn’t make them less guilty; it just means that they have friends in high places.” His tone was sane, but his words were crazy.

“You’re right. Merlin, Harry, the system may be flawed, but it has to be changed from the inside. Killing anyone who got away won’t help a thing. Besides, you could go to prison!”

“We’re not amateurs, Hermione.”

“I just--when did vigilantism become alright?”

“I knew you’d react this way. But look at who you’ve been working for! You have no right to judge--”

“I have every right! I didn’t know. It’s a flimsy excuse for what I’ve done, but at least I had good intentions. You can’t even fall back on that. What’s your excuse? Voldemort stole your childhood, so now, even thought he’s dead, you have to kill everyone who ever associated with him?”

“You don’t--”

“What, understand? I’ve known you since we were eleven fucking years old!” He flinched when she cursed, “Why did you have to stop being a good guy?” Her eyes were glistening, but she wouldn’t cry.

“We’re ridding the world of evil. Last time I checked, that was good.”

“It’s not your job to decide who lives and dies. You may be Harry Potter, but that doesn’t make you God!”

“Someone has to do it, Hermione. The Ministry is too corrupt, there’s no one but them for law enforcement. Did you think that I could just sit around and let killers walk free?”

She threw her hands up in the air, “You are a killer, Harry! Did that fact escape you? We’re not at war anymore, those rules no longer apply.”

“Well, What else am I going to do? As many people love me as hate me in the political world. And, besides, I hate politics. I can’t hold to some illusion that I can change this world again.”

“You’re going to kill Malfoy.” She tried no to think about why this made her more angry than anything else.

“Not personally, and he needs to be questioned first. I’d think you wouldn’t be so mad about it. Think of what he’s done to you and me.”

“Five years ago.” Was she defending Malfoy? When had the world turned on it’s axis?

“You’re defending him?” Oh, wow, Harry was sharing her thoughts. Maybe soon, all of England would be, too. “Don’t you remember who he was? He called you a,” the next word he whispered, “Mudblood.”

“That was five years ago. And we’ve actually worked well together. Are you sure that he knew who he was working for? That Bellatrix was his boss?”

Harry didn’t answer, and that told her enough.

“Where will you take him for interrogation? And to murder him?”

“He should already be there.”

That was when Hermione felt the first stab of pain. It was in her stomach, like she’d been stabbed. She looked down, gasping, and saw nothing, then she felt for anything. But these were phantom pains. Malfoy was being tortured for information. They, whoever they were, didn’t plan to let him live, so they weren’t holding back.

In that moment, she began to hate Harry Potter.

And then she passed out.

She woke up, Harry was shaking her. “What’s going on, Hermione? Are you alright? You just passed out on me.”

“How long was I out?” She sat up slowly, resisting his help.

“Less than an hour. Don’t scare me like that.” He handed her a glass of water, she didn’t accept it.

“I’m not going to let you kill Malfoy, Harry.”

“I won’t.”

She leaned her head back, knocking it against the wall, “You gave him to your people and they will kill him. I’m holding you responsible.”

“You really don’t have a choice.”

She laughed harshly, “You don’t even know me anymore, do you?”

He didn’t answer, but they both knew they truth. They’d not only drifted apart in five years, they had become different people.

She had to choose, Harry Potter, boy wonder and best friend, or Draco Malfoy, question mark in her mental book of labels.

It wasn’t a hard decision.