Chapter One

"Longbottom, we're breaking up."

Frank glanced up from his desk and stared at Gawain Robards, his partner since he'd left the Auror training program. He set down his quill and frowned. "What?" he asked, feeling as thick as he likely sounded.

Robards grinned down at him, settling on the corner of the desk, arms crossed over his knee. "Nothing personal, of course," he said, affecting a properly regretful tone of voice. "But I've taught you all I can, and Robertson thinks we should move on and see other people."

"Move on?" Frank repeated, still feeling completely oblivious. "Other people? What are you talking about?" He heard the confused edge to his voice and tried to calm his face, but he was too late: Robards picked up on it and laughed.

"I'll miss you too, Longbottom. Especially on those long, cold nights…" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively; Frank flushed, glancing around to see if anyone was listening. A few people turned away with a cough or snort, motivating Frank to find his voice and avoid any more embarrassment. He stood, placed his hands on his desk, and leaned closer, pitching his voice the way he would when questioning a suspect.

"Tell me what's going on, Gawain, or I'll tell your wife all kinds of stories about those long, cold nights." He gave his partner his best serious-Auror look and was rewarded when a flash of surprise crossed Robards's face, followed by calculating eyes, and finally a look of exaggerated disappointment.

"How have I not managed to instill a sense of humour in you?" he muttered. He stood up and shrugged. "I'm just taking the piss, Longbottom. We've been assigned new partners, that's all."

Frank sat back down with a satisfied nod at having the rare last word. "That was my sense of humour. And why new partners?" he asked. "I thought we had one of the best records in the department."

"The best record," Robards corrected him. "Which is why we've both been given a novice to work with. Mentoring the next generation and all that."

"I am the next generation, Gawain," Frank pointed out. "I've only been in the field for a year."

"You sure act like an old man, though." Robards sat down in an empty chair and leaned back, passing a hand over his face as if it had been a long day, even though it was first thing in the morning. "But even so, you're good. I'm good, you're good, and apparently this latest batch is not. So we've both been conscripted to wandwhip them into shape."

"That's bollocks," Frank said. He had heard about the latest group of Aurors coming out of training and sure as hell didn't want to be paired up with one of them. Robards was right: he was only 22 with a year of real experience, but he felt like he had far more under his belt, in part because he took it seriously and worked harder than just about anyone in the department. He didn't want some novice ruining his good record.

More importantly, he liked Robards. Gawain was ten years his senior, and he was as good as he thought he was. He had a more instinctive approach to the job, arriving at conclusions it took Frank far longer to come to on his own, and his dueling skills were the best in the department. He had a sense of humor that bordered on irreverent at times, but it was actually a welcome relief from the stuffy, serious environment of the Auror office. Frank knew perfectly well he was stuffy and serious and contributed quite a bit to the overall atmosphere of the department, but that didn't stop him from appreciating being partnered with someone like Robards. He and Robards made a good team, complimenting one another's strengths and weaknesses, and Frank knew he could still learn a lot from the experienced Auror.

"Orders are orders, even when they're bunk." Robards grinned. "Besides, you haven't got it half as bad as I do. I've got the one who repeated his first year of training, but you've got the cheeky blond witch everyone is talking about."

Frank felt his stomach drop and knew it probably showed on his face again. "The cheeky blond witch? Alice Hamilton?"

"That's the one." Robards leaned closer, affecting a thoughtful look as Frank refused to meet his eyes. "You suddenly seem a bit put out. What could possibly be wrong with an attractive young witch as a partner? People might get the wrong idea if you fuss about it, you know."

Frank shook his head and grinned, trying to cover up what he had already revealed: he did not want to be partnered with Alice Hamilton. "I thought people already had the wrong idea about me, Gawain."

"That's true, they do." Gawain shook his head. "I know you just work so hard you could care less about men or women, but what do you have against Hamilton? That face you're pulling is personal."

"It's nothing," Frank said, suppressing a sigh when Gawain gave him the look, the look that said he would have the answer no matter what, and it was better to give in sooner than later. Gawain Robards always got what he wanted, from friend or foe. Frank glanced around to be sure no one was listening in anymore; everyone appeared fervently engaged at their desks, which meant they were all listening attentively. He stood, not wanting to start any more gossip than necessary. "Want some tea?"

"Not really," Robards replied as he followed Frank to the small room where they were allowed to relax for short breaks. "But I see how it is."

"I doubt it," Frank said, opening the door and hustling him through. "We just dated at school. Once."

Robards snorted as they sat down. "You've been out of school for years, Longbottom. What's the problem?"

"I didn't say there was a problem," Frank replied defensively as he set about making them each a cup of tea.

"No, your face did," Robards replied. He shook his head. "You're good in the field, Frank, but you sure can't hide bollocks from me in here. Hamilton's the best of the lot, you know. Why won't you partner with her? Did she break your heart or something?"

"No, she did not break my heart. It's not a big deal," Frank insisted. "In fact, she probably doesn't even remember it. Much."

"Tell me."

Frank ran a hand through his short hair and sighed again. "We had a date in Hogsmeade my seventh year. Let's just say, it didn't go particularly well." It had been a disaster, really, and neither one of them had talked to each other for the rest of the year. It was a shame, too, because he had liked Alice Hamilton; it had taken him weeks to work up to asking her out. He remembered her as a vibrant, energetic girl at Hogwarts, smart and attractive and not afraid to bend the rules a bit. In fact, as a prefect, he had docked her points on more than one occasion, something that grew truly awkward after their unfortunate experience in Hogsmeade. He couldn't help but wonder what she had thought when she found out they were now partners: was she remembering their school days as well, or dreading working with "Old Man Longbottom"?

He didn't tell Gawain all the details--he didn't see the need to relive such a particularly embarrassing memory--but they did share what they knew about their new partners as they sipped their drinks. Frank had gone to school with John Dawlish, Robards's new partner, as well. Dawlish had been a good Hufflepuff who had started off strong in the training program with Frank and two others. It was likely just bad luck that had seen him forced out halfway through the year after a Tranfiguration accident put him in St. Mungo's for three months. Frank had been impressed he'd even returned since most people would probably quit after being turned into a Scottish terrier with six-inch fangs.

"Well, we'll make the best of it," Robards finally said with a falsely dramatic sigh. "At least yours will be nice to look at."

"As long as she doesn't remember--" Frank started, then froze with his cup halfway to his lips as the door opened.

"Remember what?" asked a strong, clear voice. "Not April 27th, 1974, by chance?"

Alice Hamilton stood in the doorway, and Frank felt his stomach twist when he saw the look on her face.

---

"Merlin's beard, I've been assigned to Longbottom!" Alice exclaimed. "I've actually been assigned to the old man." She grimaced and glanced up at John Dawlish, trying to get a look at her friend's sheet of parchment. "Who'd you get?"

John rolled his eyes. "Robards. Longbottom's partner."

Alice gave him a hopeful smile and even batted her eyelashes a bit. "Want to trade?"

"I doubt that's allowed," John replied with a snort. "Besides, I don't want Longbottom either."

They left the meeting room where they had been given their assignments and walked toward the main Auror offices to meet with their new partners. "That's curious," Alice said. "Why not?"

"He's a dull, boring, arrogant prat, that's why," Dawlish replied. "He was arrogant prat at school and he's still an arrogant prat, he just gets to call himself an Auror now instead of a prefect."

"He's an Auror with a really good record." Alice narrowed her eyes, certain she had heard something else in his voice. "You're not jealous, are you? Because he finished on time?"

John gave her one of those dry looks that told her she was both right and wrong. "Can't say I enjoyed repeating my first year, no, but it wasn't his fault."

"Then why so bitter?" asked Alice. She had been friends with John since their first day of training and had not known him to hold grudges for quite so long.

"You tell me," John tossed back. "What have you got against him?"

"Only one of the worst dates I've ever been on," she shot back. "Not to mention all those points he docked me at school and--"

He waved his hand dismissively. "Water under the bridge, Hamilton. That was years ago."

"It's better than hating him for being dull and boring and good at what he does!" she exclaimed, though she couldn't help but laugh. "That's just petty."

"I don't hate him," John grumbled. She waited patiently for him to continue. "Fine. He beat me at Gobstones. In fact, he's beat me every single time we've played, all the way back to fifth year at Hogwarts. I lost a number of Galleons my first year of Auror training thanks to him."

"That's what I'm talking about," Alice murmured. She bumped him on the shoulder and winked. "Well, seeing as I'm partners with him now, I could set up a rematch if you like."

"Forget it," he said, finally laughing with her as he shook his head. "I have no change to spare. And he's too good."

"No one's that good," she said. "It's just Gobstones: it's half luck."

"He is," Dawlish said. "And he was like that at school too: good at his classes, good with the girls--" Alice coughed, and he grinned. "Okay, not all of them. And he was good at Auror training, damn good. You'll learn a lot, at least."

Alice gave him a skeptical look. "He's only a year older than me, John. How much can he possibly teach me? I'd rather be with Robards. At least he has some real experience."

"He's hard on new recruits, though. I heard he almost got Longbottom to quit, he was such an arse." John shook his head with a sigh. "He certainly won't go easy on me. I've got a reputation to shake."

"You've worked harder than anyone," Alice said, laying a hand on his arm and smiling with encouragement. "No one will remember what happened your first year. And if they do, they can't hold it against you."

"He will," said John, but he sounded like he had accepted it and was simply waiting for his doom. "Just wait for it."

They weaved their way through the Auror department, asking after their respective partners. Apparently they were both in the break room, so Alice headed toward the back, John following behind her. She subconsciously started smoothing her robes and tucking her hair behind her ears until she forced herself to stop. She hated feeling nervous, but she was. John was right, for one: Frank Longbottom was an excellent Auror. He'd gone into the training program with more N.E.W.T.s than anyone in years and come out just as strong. After a rough start, he and Robards now had the best record in the department. Yes, he was known as a bit of a bookish, rule-bound boot-licker, but he was also good at what he did, and apparently quite the Gobstones champion as well.

She also remembered the boy she had known at school: a fellow Gryffindor who had always been willing to help her with her work, even after he had been made prefect and had to dock her points for being out after curfew. A quiet but kind boy who had smiled at her every time he saw her, he finally asked her out toward the end of her sixth year, and she had gladly said yes. Sometimes she wished that date had gone differently; she had liked him.

She had entered Auror training a year behind him, but oddly enough had not had much contact with him aside from occasional meetings and a passing greeting in the office. They both moved on from their awkward experience at school, so there was no real reason to see, think, or talk to him when they were at such different points in their lives. Now that she was going to be permanent partners with him, however, she was strangely, awkwardly nervous.

It was almost as if John were reading her thoughts, though he interpreted them somewhat differently. "You're beautiful. You don't have to look good to impress him, anyway--he doesn't notice that sort of thing."

She glanced sideways at him, eyebrows raised. "Doesn't notice…women?" she asked. That might explain their disaster of a date during her sixth year.

"As far as I've heard, he doesn't notice much of anything outside of work," John said. "They say he's here sunup to sundown. All work, no play--and lots of paperwork." He shook his head and gave her a sympathetic look. "Good luck with that."

Alice laughed as they came to the breakroom. "I'll be fine. Maybe I can get him to loosen up a bit. Maybe--"

She opened the door and stopped in her tracks; John bumped into her from behind and mumbled an apology. "We'll make the best of it," Gawain Robards was saying. "At least yours is nice to look at."

"As long as she doesn't remember--" said another voice she recognized. Frank Longbottom saw her at that moment and froze as well, teacup halfway to his lips.

"Remember what?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady. "Not April 27th, 1974, by chance?"

She was sure he swore under his breath. Robards half coughed, half laughed into his hand before he stood up and eyed John, all strict business. "I'll leave you two with your sordid past. You must be mine, then?"

John nodded and held out his hand. "John Dawlish, sir. Pleased to meet you."

"We'll see about that. Call me Robards and follow me, dog-boy." He headed out the door with a wave over his shoulder. "Good luck, Longbottom. And you, Hamilton." John followed him with a sigh; he'd been right about Robards giving him a hard time.

Frank stared after them as if he had been abandoned to a horrible fate, before finally standing and motioning her to a chair across from him. "Can I get you something?" he asked.

"No thank you," she replied. "I'm fine. It's not a date, after all."

She saw his shoulders tighten and couldn't help but grin to herself. He sat down slowly with a sigh.

"Look, I'm sorry about that--" he started, but she waved him off.

"I know," she replied, waving it away as casually as she could and hoping it would throw him off. "It wasn't your fault, just like it's not your fault we're partners now."

He gazed silently at her, and she felt as if he were studying her like he would study a prisoner being interrogated. But she did not squirm: she met his eyes directly, challenging him. He didn't intimidate her, no matter what John might think about how good he was. Frank Longbottom was just an old-fashioned know-it-all who probably didn't smile much anymore, let alone relax and have fun. He'd certainly cocked it up well enough in Hogsmeade her sixth year.

"No, it wasn't," he finally replied. "But I didn't handle it well, and I apologize. I hope we can make this work in spite of any unpleasantness between us." He held out his hand, and Alice glanced down at it in surprise. She had hoped to throw him off with her casual acceptance, but instead he had got her.

And he knew it: very slowly he raised a questioning eyebrow, and the corners of his mouth tugged upward in amusement. So he could smile. Deciding to take back the upper hand, she thrust her arm forward and took his offer in as strong a grip as she could, with as broad a smile as she had in her. His confidence faltered slightly.

"It'll be brilliant," she said. "I couldn't have asked for a better partner." His eyes widened slightly as she pulled him toward her over the table. "And neither could you," she murmured, then dropped his hand and sat back. "So now that that's out of the way, where do we start?"

He blew out a long breath before he stood and held the door open for her. "Let's get you set up at a desk, go over some procedures and paperwork…" He trailed off as she walked by him with a deliberately sour look on her face. "What?"

"Paperwork is boring. How about catching some bad guys instead?" she asked brightly, and was rewarded when he rolled his eyes. She decided right then if she couldn't get him to roll his eyes at her at least five times a day she wasn't trying hard enough. It would be more interesting than paperwork, anyway.

"Bad guys. Right." He nodded as he walked toward his desk. "I'll send out an owl and see if I can find some for you to smile to death."

She laughed; he shook his head. Maybe it would be interesting after all. Very interesting.

* * *

Chapter Two

A month later, life in the Auror office was not that interesting for Alice.

Or rather, her partner in the Auror office was not that interesting. The job itself was usually appealing, yes. Even sporadically exciting, like when they had chased down a feisty old witch selling illegal potions on the street in Knockturn Alley. Yet most of the time, being an Auror with Frank Longbottom was just as dull and boring as he was.

Alice shook her head as she studied him over her desk. No, that wasn't entirely true either. Frank was not really dull. He simply came across that way at times, though she wasn't sure if he cultivated it on purpose or was oblivious to the impression he gave people. He was certainly more complex than she remembered him at Hogwarts and had heard in talk around the office. Really, he was a bit of an enigma: calm, quiet, and reserved, he could also be quick, clever, and commanding. He always snapped back when she provoked him, and though she hated to admit it, he was good at what he did.

No, it was just that being an Auror simply involved more deskwork and less fieldwork than she had anticipated. Or maybe it was simply because she was new, and they weren't sent out as much because of her inexperience. Some people might find desk work highly appealing, but she did not relish writing reports or filing reports or reading other people's reports: she wanted to put her skills to the test. She wanted to be out in the real world, tracking down criminals, protecting people from Dark magic, making a difference in the war raging around them. Frank seemed to enjoy reading, however, and worked quietly at his desk, which left her working equally silently at hers. She sighed without even meaning to.

Frank glanced up. "Find something interesting?" he asked, though she could tell from the dry tone to his voice that he was not expecting her to answer positively. She shook her head and sat back with another sigh.

"My eyes are tired," she said. "Why can't we get an assignment somewhere away from our desks?"

He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head; he did not smile exactly, but his blue eyes were sparkling with humour. "We did. Gringotts. It was fun."

"That was last week," Alice pointed out, trying very hard not to grumble about it. "And I'd hardly call spending the morning trying to convince the Gringotts goblins that not all of wizardkind is trying to break in and steal their gold all that fun."

He shrugged and returned to the stack of parchments in front of him. "I always learn a lot when I go there. Fascinating stuff, goblins and banking."

Now she made a face, but he wasn't looking at her to see it. "You're joking, right?" she asked, letting the skepticism come through.

He glanced up at her again, his face calm and composed. "I don't joke much," he said, though his overly flat tone of voice betrayed him: he was definitely playing with her. A more playful man might have winked to show it; he did not.

"I've noticed," she replied dryly. "I have to wonder if you even know how to smile sometimes." He gave her an extra cheerful smile, and she rolled her eyes, forgetting that it was usually the other way around; he went back to his reports, hiding a bigger grin for gaining the rare victory.

"Seriously, Longbottom--can't we get something a bit more exciting than this? Anything?" She stopped herself from whining about it any more, but she was bored. Totally and completely bored, and the afternoon had just started.

Frank put down his quill and watched her for a moment--he did that often, as if studying his companion and planning his strategy for conversation--before he finally nodded, throwing her off balance. "Actually, we did. We have a briefing in an hour." He glanced down at his watch. "Can you wait an hour?"

She sat up, suddenly energized. "Are you serious? We're really going back in the field?"

"You now know as much as I do," he said, with a quiet laugh through his nose. He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. "Although I did hear that it has something to do with protecting someone."

"Any idea who?" Alice asked immediately. He shook his head. "Or why?" Again, he shook his head, holding his hands out as if to show they were as empty of information as he was. He leaned forward.

"What do you know about protection detail?" he asked suddenly and sharply. "Talk me through it as if I were you."

She narrowed her eyes and accepted the challenge. For the next hour she told him everything she had learned in training about protecting a threatened target, whether it was a person, place, or thing. He in turn fired question after question at her until her brain was so full it was a wonder it didn't explode. When the hour was up, he sat back and nodded.

"Not bad, Hamilton," he said, then stood and grabbed his official robes. "Let's go see who we're protecting."

She grabbed her own robes and hurried after him. "You like doing that, don't you?" she asked, working to keep up with his long strides. He glanced down at her with a questioning look.

"Do what?"

"Try to trip me up. Make me look bad." She tucked a stray curl behind her ear and gave him a lofty look. "It won't work, you know. I told you: I'm good. I'm ready. I can handle it."

"Everyone thinks they can handle it until they get out there," Frank pointed out. "Then it gets hot, and they freeze."

"Did you?" she asked without thinking.

"'Course I did," he replied with a shrug. "Almost quit, too, it rattled me so much."

"Sounds like a good story," she murmured.

"I’m surprised you haven't heard it. I thought for sure Gawain would have spread it around by now." He shook his head as he knocked on the door to a private office.

"You're still an Auror," she pointed out. "So it must not have been that bad."

"It wasn't," Frank replied. "Maybe I'll even tell you about it myself sometime."

There was a voice on the other side of the door in reply to their knock, and Frank stepped in, stopping before a large, imposing desk with his hands behind his back. Alice followed and assumed the same position. She had only been in the Head of the Auror's office once before and had to resist the impulse to glance around curiously.

"You wanted to see us, sir?" asked Frank, all proper tone of voice and appropriate respect. Sometimes Alice wondered how he did it, how he played the game expected of everyone in the office. False flattery did not come easily to her, and she struggled with being deferential at times; she hated playing games to appease or impress people.

Head Auror Robertson motioned them inside. He was a very nondescript man--plain brown hair, plain brown eyes, plain face lined with the stress of his work--but he still radiated a strong sense of authority. He left no doubt who was in charge, and as soon as he spoke, it was obvious why.

"You're being assigned to a protection detail," he said without any preamble, his voice a deep baritone. No "How are you?" or "What are you working on?" or anything like that. Even after three years of training and a month on active duty, Alice wasn't sure what to think of him; she simply stood at attention and listened closely.

"John Richard Lupin has received a number of threats from the increasingly active werewolf population."

"You mean Fenrir Greyback," said Frank. Alice wasn't sure how he had leapt to that conclusion, but Robertson nodded, and Alice thought maybe the Head Auror was the smallest bit impressed.

"Yes. You know the history?" he asked.

"Some," Frank replied. "I heard a bit of it when we assisted the Werewolf Capture Unit with a prisoner last year."

"Yes, the Williams boy," Robertson nodded.

"I'm sorry, I'm not familiar with Mr. Lupin," Alice spoke up, although the name sounded familiar. "Why is he being threatened?"

"It's a long story, much of it classified," said Robertson. "So the short version is that about ten years ago he was in Magical Law Enforcement and ran down a werewolf who turned out to Fenrir Greyback's partner-in-crime. Greyback went after him in retaliation and attacked Lupin's family. Lupin transferred to the WCU and spent five years hunting Greyback before he was injured and forced to retire. He's with Werewolf Support Services now. He's been reaching out to the werewolf community, trying to keep them from joining You-Know-Who. Only now Fenrir Greyback has reappeared."

"And with Greyback resurfacing, he's threatening to come after Lupin again. For both personal and professional reasons now, I assume?" suggested Frank, and Robertson nodded brusquely.

"Exactly. John Lupin's death would mean losing a strong advocate for werewolf rights. We're taking this seriously because Lupin has done good work for the Ministry, and it's important that he keep working. Just as importantly, this gives us a chance to bring in Greyback."

"Why the Auror office, sir, and not the WCU then?" asked Alice. Frank glanced sideways at her, but it was a perfectly legitimate question, she thought.

"WCU are trained to capture werewolves, not protect wizards on twelve-hour shifts. You are. You are also trained to capture criminals, which is what you should consider Greyback on any night other than the full moon: another criminal to be apprehended. But you will work closely with WCU on this. They are aware of the situation and are on call as your backup."

"Yes, sir," Alice murmured. Put that way, it made sense.

"What's the plan, sir?" Frank asked, but he sounded distant; Alice had the distinct impression he was already thinking ahead to something else.

"You're splitting twelve hour shifts with Shacklebolt and Smith. Two weeks on, two weeks off. You're starting this afternoon, and they will relieve you halfway through the night, that way none of you has to stay up all night. One of you is to remain with Mr. Lupin at all times, the other should be patrolling whatever area he is in with an eye for any threat--the Ministry included. Any other questions?"

Alice had several, but she knew better than to ask the Head Auror directly; she would work them out of Frank later. It was not the most exciting assignment, but she sensed its importance, as well as the opportunity to bring in a major threat in the war. Fenrir Greyback had a fearsome reputation, but she had not become an Auror only to be frightened of what people said. She could handle it, exhausting as it might be.

"No sir," said Frank, and Alice echoed him.

"Then you will meet Mr. Lupin immediately in his office on level four. In twelve hours you will be relieved to return home to sleep. In two weeks, if necessary, we will rotate assignments so you can get back on a more normal schedule. But for now, your job is to keep him safe at all costs. Dismissed."

They left the office in silence. Frank looked thoughtful, even troubled, but Alice did not ask him about it until they had reached their desks and started gathering their things.

"What's wrong?" she asked quietly so no one else could hear them.

"I don't know," he said, leaning close as they left the Auror office and headed to the lifts to meet John Lupin at Werewolf Support Services. "Something seems strange, though."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not sure," he repeated, sounding frustrated. "But it just seems odd that last week we were working with disgruntled goblins and this week it's werewolves."

Alice shook her head. "I'm not following."

Frank was quiet as they entered the lift. He didn't speak until it started moving, and he sounded slightly frustrated. "Usually Gawain picks these things up quicker than me. It takes me longer to connect the dots. But for once my gut is telling me this is no coincidence."

"It's goblins and werewolves. They have no connection whatsoever," Alice pointed out. "It has to be a coincidence. What else could it be?"

"You-Know-Who," Frank said, and Alice thought she felt a chill go down her spine. "He could use them both on his side, couldn't he? Maybe he's making his move."

Alice didn't even know what to say: she just stared at him. Frank finally gave her an understanding smile. "Look, I could be wrong. We just need to do our job and keep Mr. Lupin safe. I'll talk to Moody about the other stuff."

"Alastor Moody?" asked Alice curiously. "Why him? Why not Robertson?"

"Moody is a member of the Order of the Phoenix. Have you heard of it?" When she shook her head, he continued. "Professor Dumbledore started a small group to help in the fight against You-Know-Who. For when the Ministry can't handle it."

"Which is often," Alice murmured. It was true: at times the Ministry had no idea what was going on, even with a crack Auror team trying their best to protect the wizarding community from Voldemort's increasing threats.

"Exactly," said Frank. "Merlin knows the Ministry is trying, but they just can't keep up. Dumbledore's group is simply another way to fight back. Moody's been in it since the start." He shrugged as they left the lift, still keeping his voice low. "It's a bit of a secret, I think. Not everyone in the office would support it--hell, half of them can't stand Moody and would probably love to see him burn for it."

Alice shook her head in disbelief. "You don't mean they'd support You-Know-Who?" she asked.

Frank shrugged again. "Perhaps. Most governments don't take kindly to vigilante groups, even ones on their side."

Alice glanced at him, reluctantly impressed. He really was a strong, intelligent man and a good Auror. She admired that, as much as she hated to admit it. It didn't mean she wasn't going to keep giving him a hard time for being so serious, but she was determined to work hard to prove herself just as good.

"Are you a member?"

He glanced at her in surprise. "Me? No." He gave a sarcastic little laugh, the one she'd heard once or twice now and recognized as a sign that he was belittling himself. "I'm too much of a book-boy, remember? Isn't that what you said last week at the bank?"

She ignored the rebuke, feeling only slightly guilty for it since it was still true. Instead she gave him the challenging look she'd been throwing him for weeks. "That doesn't mean you won't do what's right, even if it is off the record."

He nodded slowly, eyeing her in that funny way again. "Right. Well, I let Moody know things I think might help them. Which is why I think this is worth mentioning."

"Won't he know about it already?" she asked. "He's a senior Auror, after all."

"He'll know, but I want to point out the connection, see if there's anything else going on. Dumbledore is the one who will really figure it out what to do with it."

"You've obviously learned a lot from Robards. You should give yourself more credit," she said as they entered Werewolf Support Services. "And maybe think about joining them."

He stared at her. "Are you serious?"

"About both," she said, and she gave him a smile that was not teasing or challenging. He smiled back at her, genuine happiness lighting his normally plain face and making him look rather handsome if she thought about it. Which she didn't. "Now, where can we find Mr. Lupin?"

A wizard in blue robes stepped out of a nearby office. He was a tall man, well-built with dark hair and glasses and a beard that was just starting to turn grey. "I'm John Lupin," he said, his tone pleasant if slightly weary. Walking with a limp that Alice assumed was the injury that had forced him out of the WCU, he held out his right hand. "And you must be my new handlers."

Alice exchanged a quick glance with Frank before they shook hands with John Lupin and began their new assignment, their focus now on protecting the Ministry's best link between the werewolves and wizards.

* * *

Chapter Three

Frank learned quickly that the relationship John Lupin was trying to maintain with the werewolf community was a tenuous one at best.

More and more werewolves were becoming disenchanted with the Ministry and its policies, as well as the increasingly negative attitude toward werewolves in general. Voldemort's subtle campaign to discredit the government's treatment of them seemed to be working, and more and more werewolves were speaking out against the Ministry. Some gave their tacit support to Voldemort, while others came right out and called for the entire werewolf population to follow the Dark Lord. They were tired of being treated as second-class citizens through no fault of their own; the tragedy was in thinking Voldemort would treat them any differently.

Still, John Lupin tried. He worked tirelessly at keeping track of those werewolves who had registered, though many had given up on the registry as the war escalated, or gone into hiding for fear of being targeted by one or both sides. He counseled new werewolves and encouraged the old ones to have faith in the Ministry. He never gave up, and Frank began to sense a keen desperation in his efforts, as if John Lupin were determined to save more than just a small group of werewolves from betraying their humanity.

They guarded him just as Robertson had ordered: twelve hours on, twelve hours off. Kingsley Shacklebolt and Liam Smith relieved them halfway through the night so they could go home and sleep. At first Frank crashed hard, sleeping well past breakfast, but after a week he couldn't shake the feeling that something else was going on and began waking earlier and earlier to try and figure it out. He even started going into the office to sift through reports, old and new, trying to find something he could to give to Moody.

There were no other reports on goblins or werewolves, but a number of incidents involving giants, particularly in the south, caught his attention. It couldn't possibly be a coincidence, all three; Frank was certain Voldemort was planning something.

Alastor Moody listened carefully when Frank finally managed to sit him down and voice his concerns. The grizzled Auror nodded brusquely before standing to shake Frank's hand. "I think you're on to something, Longbottom," he had said in his typically blunt, gruff manner. "I'll let Dumbledore know. You keep on it. We need to figure out where it's going."

That was it: keep on it. So he did. When Dawlish and Robards were sent to Wales to investigate a suspicious death at the dragon reserve in the mountains, Frank's instincts screamed at him that he was right. Voldemort was recruiting dark creatures to his cause: werewolves, giants, maybe even dragons. That had to be it--but what could they do about it? They couldn't stop it ahead of time: they needed to figure out the endgame.

Fortunately, no attempts were made on John Lupin's life. Their protective detail was nothing but routine. Frank knew that as an Auror, he was supposed to keep his personal distance from Lupin, and for the most part, he did. Yet that didn't stop him from getting to know the man when they were together. John Lupin was strong, brave, and determined; Frank admired him more each day.

The flipside was that he felt as if he and Alice were growing apart. Not that they had been that close before the assignment, but they spent much of their time separated now: one of them with Lupin at all times, the other patrolling the area. He felt like he rarely saw her, and when he did, they certainly couldn't bicker and banter like they might have done back at the office, or if they were in the field on their own. They had to stay professional, and he found that he missed the teasing yet challenging remarks from her that had him rolling his eyes several times a day. He had started to enjoy the look on her face when he gave her that reaction, as if she had won a great victory and was keeping count of how often she could rankle him. He was fairly certain he hadn't rolled his eyes more than a few times while they were with Lupin.

It was well past midnight at the end of their two weeks with John Lupin that Frank followed him into the kitchen of his small cottage one last time. Lupin's wife had died several years earlier and he lived alone, his home a testament to the life of a widow: the decorative touches of a female hand, as well as pictures of her everywhere, along with their young son. Lupin had not talked about him much, but Frank vaguely remembered Remus Lupin from Hogwarts, a Gryffindor about four years below him. He'd hung around with three other boys, and though Remus was clearly not the leader, he had never-the-less been in trouble more than a few times with them. It was strange to think those students would be leaving Hogwarts in just a few weeks; Frank felt old.

Apparently so did John Lupin. He sat at the table, poring over reports with a glass of Muggle scotch at his elbow, running a hand through his lightly greying hair with a sigh. He had offered Frank a pour, but being on duty, Frank had refused. He helped himself to a glass of water instead and sat down across from Lupin.

"What's keeping you up so late?" he asked, sensing that perhaps Lupin needed to talk.

Lupin blew out a long breath as he sat back. "This. That. Everything. Nothing." He knocked back his snifter of scotch and poured himself another from the bottle on the table beside him. "More than anything, this damn war. These poor people who are being torn apart, from the inside and out."

Frank was silent. He wasn't sure what to say, even though he'd spent a good deal of time with John Lupin over the past two weeks. When it came to the war, sometimes there wasn't anything that could be said. Most wizards had been affected in some way or another, so sympathetic platitudes often rang hollow. John Lupin was on the front line, maybe not dueling directly with his wand, but working against the enemy none-the-less. His job was important, but it appeared as if he was fighting a losing battle in his efforts to keep the werewolf community from turning away from the Ministry.

"Are you a member of the Order of the Phoenix?" Frank found himself asking out of the blue. He wasn't even sure why he had asked it, other than it had been on his mind more and more since he had mentioned it to Alice and talked to Moody. It was possible, given the relative secrecy of the group, that Lupin was a member, but the older man gave Frank a surprised look.

"No, I'm not, but that's the second time I've heard about this Order of the Phoenix recently. My son mentioned it over Easter holidays." Lupin set down his quill and gave him a curious look. "You're young. Did you know him at Hogwarts? Remus Lupin?"

Frank nodded. "A bit. I was a fifth-year prefect when he was Sorted into Gryffindor. You know how it is with first-years, though. We tolerate yet generally ignore them."

Lupin nodded absently, his eyes distant, as if he were engrossed in some powerful memory, and Frank felt the need to say something, anything, to break the pensive mood. "I remember that group of first-years, though. I had to dock them points a few times."

"A few?" To his relief, John Lupin laughed. "I'm sure you're being generous. I know that lot well, and you probably took points at least once a month."

Frank couldn't help but grin. "Well, yes. But I don't think Remus was the instigator."

Lupin laughed even harder. "Then you didn't know my son. He didn't always start things, but he came up with quite a few of their ideas."

Frank had not known the young Gryffindors well enough to recognize the truth of Lupin's statement. He remembered Sirius Black, a Slytherin legacy unexpectedly Sorted into Gryffindor and as brazenly self-assured as a seventh-year, and James Potter, well-off and confident to the point of arrogance and entitlement. Both boys had got into plenty of trouble on their own, settling quickly into a pattern of both pranks and fights that was unusual for students their age. There had been a smaller boy who had followed them quite a bit, and then there had been Remus: quiet and calm, studious but often joining his friends for a good joke or a late night party. He had never bullied anyone, though; for some reason Frank remembered that quite clearly, and he suspected Remus must have got that from his father.

"Why was Remus talking about the Order?" asked Frank, curious whether or not the group was common knowledge at Hogwarts. Alice had not heard of them, and he knew from speaking to Moody that it was a small band of fighters, working quietly but tirelessly against Voldemort. Frank wasn't sure what they did exactly and why they remained behind the scenes, but he was smart enough to know it could only help in the war.

"He wants to join when he's through with school," Lupin replied, shaking his head. "Black and Potter are apparently going to join, but they have money. They can fight full time. Remus needs a job, a way to support himself. He'll pull more than enough N.E.W.T.s, but with his--" He stopped himself with a cough and started over. "With the war, he doesn't think he'll find much. He'd rather fight with his friends."

Frank wondered what Lupin had meant to say, but filed it away for later. "You don't think he should?"

Lupin was silent as he stood and began to gather his papers, favoring his left leg. He stopped to massage his thigh, for the injury he'd had from Greyback five years earlier left it subject to painful cramps, particularly when he sat for too long. "I'm just being an old, selfish parent. I don't want to lose him. He'd be in terrible danger, fighting against You-Know-Who's forces."

"Everyone is in danger," Frank pointed out. "You still fight." John Lupin smiled, his face tired and worn. It couldn't be easy, living with the constant threat of being attacked for his work, and having two Aurors constantly underfoot, even if it was to protect him.

"Not directly. I'm just trying to do my part to help the werewolves. You-Know-Who won't treat them any better. I need them to understand that." Frank nodded, knowing it was true. And again, the thought niggled at the back of his head that Voldemort's attempts to win the werewolf community were part of a bigger plan to increase his forces. He was glad someone like John Lupin was trying to stop that from happening and idly wondered what drove him to continue such dangerous, and at times desperate, work.

John Lupin held out his hand, and Frank stood to take it. It was their last night with him; a new set of Aurors would rotate in within a few hours to make sure he remained safe from Fenrir Greyback. A part of Frank was reluctant to be leaving Lupin, but another part was glad to get back to the office and settle into a more normal routine, particularly with his partner. He was also determined to try and work out Voldemort's plans. He wasn't sure Robertson would believe him, but Moody could take the information to Dumbledore.

"It's been a pleasure working with you, Frank," said John. "You're a good man. Thank you for all that you and Alice have done."

"We haven't had to do much, sir, but you're welcome," said Frank. "Good luck. I hope you're able to make some progress. We need all the help we can get to hold back You-Know-Who."

John nodded as he left the kitchen. "I'll do my best. Who knows, maybe my son will be joining the fight soon as well. Good night." Frank could tell that despite the concerns he had just expressed, John Lupin was proud of the idea that his son might make a difference in the war.

After a moment or two, Frank followed and stood guard outside his room. In the hallway was a picture of John with his son. It could not have been from that long ago, as Remus appeared to be in his older teens. He looked strangely pale and exhausted for someone so young, with a large scar across his face that Frank did not remember from school. The photograph reminded Frank of his own father, who had died well over a decade ago, leaving him to grow up with only his mother, much as Remus Lupin had been raised by only his father. In her own way, Augusta Longbottom was just as strong as John Lupin. At the moment, she did not actively fight against Voldemort's forces, but neither did she support any of the old pureblood prejudices seeping back into magical society, and in fact spoke against them whenever she could, standing up for Muggle-borns much as John Lupin stood up for werewolves.

As he gazed at the photograph, Frank admired John Lupin's determination to help the werewolves even more, and once again wondered what inspired the man to risk so much. He hoped Lupin's hard work paid off--for him and his son, as well as the rest of the wizarding community.


* * *

Chapter Four

Alice was glad to be done with protective duty. As important as it was, it had also been tedious: nothing had happened. Not once. John Lupin had been a perfectly nice man to guard--they could have ended up with an arrogant prat, after all--but she was not one to enjoy the same dull thing day after day, even with a nice person.

Although, if she admitted it, she had sort of missed the routine she'd just barely settled into with Frank at the office and was actually looking forward to it again. Protective duty for two weeks had seen them together yet separate most of the time. During those rare times when they had been in the same room, she had not felt as comfortable talking with him in front of John Lupin as she would back at the Auror office. So ideally they would land a new, more exciting assignment; she could go back to giving him a hard time, he could go back to rolling his eyes at her, and everything would be normal.

Robertson had given them one day to recover from two weeks of twelve-hour shifts. Four new Aurors were assigned to John Lupin, including Dawlish and Robards. After a restful day at home, it was back to her desk, but strangely enough, Alice didn't mind. Frank wanted to catch up with paperwork and reports, but he had a goal: he was still looking for a link between cases, something that would convince the Head Auror that Voldemort was targeting more than just John Lupin and the werewolf community. Frank was convinced that Robard's case--the dragon keeper killed in Wales--was somehow connected to the threats against Lupin, their work at Gringotts the month before, and even the increasing reports of giant activity down south. She was starting to believe him, and for the first time, Alice was happy to sit across from him, sifting through papers, trying to figure out the puzzle while they tossed smart remarks back and forth.

But soon enough Robertson called them back to his office and sent them out again. And she was glad for that too, because it would be their first assignment away from London, and undercover as well.

They were sent to the West Country, where there had been rumors of Dark magic in the area, strange lights and sounds on the moors nearby that had been attributed to everything from Death Eaters to dragons. Covertly undercover as Muggles exploring the area, they were hoping to come across some speck of reliable intelligence to follow up on. Frank had changed his appearance just enough that he wouldn't be recognized as an Auror: with square spectacles and a beard that made him look at least ten years older, his disguise almost sent her into fits of laughter every time she looked at him. Alice had colored her hair a bright copper and altered her features slightly; she found that liked her new nose better.

It was their third night in the area, and they seen nothing so far. They were sitting in the only pub in Godric's Hollow, a village in the southwest that was home to a large wizarding population. Frank was pretending to read the local paper, but she knew he was listening to everything going on around them. He had the ability to do that, to listen to multiple conversations at once and pick out the important bits. He did it at the office as well, pausing to catch some conversation from several cubicles away. Alice had no such ability--it just gave her a headache--and it had quickly become obvious that her skill was as the visual scout. She noticed things and remembered the details. She had honed it on the assignment with John Lupin and was now in charge of scoping out things around them that Frank pointed her to, keeping a close eye on who came and who went and who appeared suspicious.

She rather liked the set-up: he could do what he was good at, she could do what she was good at, and they weren't off doing it by themselves as they had done on protective detail. But as with all good partnerships, they bickered whenever he asked her to focus on a particular table but she saw nothing suspicious, or when she noticed someone but he couldn't pick out any of their conversation. It was a bit like their old pattern in the office, which Alice found comfortable yet tiring after three days; sometimes she wished they got along better.

"Third table to your left," Frank murmured, not even glancing up from the paper. "What do you see?"

Alice gave a fake yawn as she pretended to stretch and glance around; it was a bit cliché but it had worked so far. There were three men in long cloaks sitting at the table, two of whom looked about their age and one who was several decades older, grey-haired and paunchy with an air of ingrained arrogance. None of them looked particularly friendly, but she didn't notice anything unusual about them, so she shook her head, and he frowned.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "I'm certain I heard them mention something."

"They look like a bunch of sour Muggles," she said. "They're probably talking about the weather or something."

"They're talking about potions," Frank replied, still not glancing up. "Look again."

Alice sat up and tried not to glare at him. Stretching again, she eyed the three men once more. The older man was sliding an envelope across the table to one of the younger men. She held back a snort when she noticed the tip of a wand sticking out from a pocket in his cloak as he tucked the envelope away. Unfortunately, he glanced up, saw her watching, and narrowed his eyes at her.

Her instinct was to look away and deny that she had seen anything. Yet she knew he would never believe it, and she'd only be in more trouble. So within the space of a heartbeat, she made the split second decision to go with it instead, to try to get more. She eyed him confidently, making a small swishing motion with her hand to indicate that she had not only seen the wand, but knew what it was for as well. The man frowned at her.

"What are you doing?" Frank hissed. "You'll blow our cover."

"Already blown," she murmured without moving her lips. Instead, she pouted at the man and mimed a drinking motion, the message clear: buy me a drink? She added a coy wink to it as well and could feel the tension radiating from Frank. Maybe he was worried about their cover--or maybe he was jealous.

She stood as the man made an excuse to his friends and headed toward the bar. "Watch my back," she said softly. She felt her heart pounding, but with excitement, not nerves. Here was her chance to actually do something, more than anything they had done so far. The men were obviously wizards and engaged in something covert. Were they Death Eaters? Was it Dark magic?

She turned on her best charm and sidled up to the bar next to the younger man. Up close, he appeared far more threatening than from several tables away. He was tall and thin but radiated a cunning physicality. She wondered what she had got herself into.

"What do you want?" he muttered as she came up next to him, lightly brushing against his arm. He had dark hair and coal black eyes and a deep, dark voice. He did not turn to look at her, but stared straight ahead.

"A drink, for one," she responded lightly, keeping her nerves in check. If she cocked this up, Frank would be furious. "A date, maybe. Mine is dull."

The man glanced over his shoulder at Frank, who was still reading the paper. Alice could tell from the set of his body that her partner was listening and ready jump in at any moment. Too late she realized her mistake in revealing his presence, although they had probably been seen together already. The dark-haired man studied Frank without a change in expression.

"Go back to your bloke. Dull is more your type."

Alice pulled a face, actually slightly stung by the comment as she didn't fancy herself a dull kind of girl. She plunged on, only half aware of the danger she was getting herself into.

"I'm not dull," she said, hoping her voice sounded petulant enough. "I am, however, bored. You're the first wizard I've met in days traipsing around these stupid moors."

"That's not my problem," he said, giving her a look that clearly said, ’This is over.’ She ignored it and placed a hand on his arm.

"You could help me with it, though." She lowered her voice. "Even if you just got me away from him. Maybe introduce me to your friend?" The man glanced back toward his table companions and nodded. The older man stood and left the pub without a look back, leaving the third man alone at the table. He was shorter and more stocky, with blond hair and small piercing eyes she could feel across the room. After finishing his drink, he sauntered over, casual gait failing to hide the deadly intent in his eyes. Alice knew she was in trouble.

"The lady wants our help," the first man said, inclining his head toward her. "She's trying to ditch her date."

The blond man nodded, his lopsided grin more of an evil leer. Yet before he could say anything, Frank was there, taking her firmly by the elbow. "I'm not her date," he said, and his voice sounded much higher than normal; it was all she could do to rein in her surprise before it occurred to her that he was playing it up and not really as nervous as he sounded. "I'm her cousin, and I'm supposed to keep her in line. Thank you for not taking her up on the offer. We'll just be off now."

The first man narrowed his eyes, as if he suspected something. He probably did. Alice felt like they were stuck in the perfect example of what not to do in training, some terrible cliché of every spy story she had ever heard. She had started it, though, and had to finish it, even if she didn't like how it ended. She sighed and played her part. "Bugger off, Pete. I'll be fine."

Frank raised an eyebrow. "I doubt it. You've had too much to drink already. I'm afraid we'll have to skip our hike and head home, so no moon calves tonight. Good day, gentlemen." He inclined his head politely, all babbling deference, and lead Alice toward the door. She could feel the men inside watching them as she let Frank guide her out of the building. As soon as the door shut behind them, she ripped her arm away and glared at him.

"A drinking problem? Really?" She rolled her eyes at how ridiculous it seemed. "I could have had some information from them, you know. They were up to something."

"Of course they were," he hissed, tucking his glasses into a pocket and placing a hand on the wand in his cloak. "And you just walked right up and practically announced that we were Aurors looking for them. Do you know who you were talking to?"

"No," she replied defensively. "But he had bad breath."

"That's not his worst trait." Frank glanced around as they hurried down the dark street. "I'd say you just blundered your way into--"

"Into what?" rasped a familiar voice from behind them. Alice felt a wand pressed against her back; glancing sideways, she saw the dark-haired man from the pub with his wand at Frank's back. "Just what exactly do you think you blundered into, Auror-boy?"

Frank looked at her, and she saw in his face that he had instantly made the decision to drop the innocent cousin routine. It was too late, anyway, and would never work. He squared his shoulders and tried to shrug off the wand at his back; the wizard behind him must have pushed harder, because Frank grunted as he stumbled forward into a narrow alley. "I have no idea," he replied, straightening his robes. "Hopefully something a lot more innocuous than it looked."

"And just what do you think you saw?" asked the wizard, poking him again.

"Probably some black market trinket deal," Frank said, and she could tell that he was thinking quick. "Protective amulets or something like that. A lot of that going around lately."

The man behind her laughed, a high-pitched girlish giggle, and Alice felt a chill in her bones. It was the laugh of someone very cruel, someone very strong--and someone who could very well kill her with his bare hands. She glanced over her should to see that it was the blond man from the pub.

"Shoddy guess for such a pretty Auror-boy," replied the wizard behind Frank. "You're not even close. However, you are in the wrong place at the wrong time, so we'll have to deal with it. I don't want Moody on my arse for it."

"Moody's tough like that. So, a Memory Charm then?" Frank asked, almost conversationally. Alice glanced at him in panic. Why was he giving them ideas? It was better than getting killed, but still…

"Perhaps," the man replied. "But we haven't played with an Auror in a while, especially a mouthy one with a reckless partner. I think I'd like to have a little fun first."

"I'm not reckless," Alice started to protest, even though it was probably true in this case.

"And I don't like to play," Frank growled, his voice low and threatening.

And suddenly they were fighting for their lives.

* * *

He knew as soon as he felt the wand in his back that they were in trouble. Alice had gone off on her own and got caught, and now he had to figure out a way to get them out alive. Then he'd think seriously about requesting a new partner, because he'd suddenly had it with her.

She had gone too far: first he had had to rescue her from the bar, and now he had to get them out of another mess, thanks to her impulsive blundering about. He couldn't play the dutiful cousin anymore, they would never believe it. So he didn't deny being an Auror, and though he doubted it was about protective amulets, maybe he could avoid a major confrontation if he played it right.

Unfortunately, that didn't seem likely when the wizard behind him decided he'd like to have a bit of fun with two young Aurors. Frank let his instincts take over, because he knew they were both strong and well-trained and could handle it. As his partner grumbled, "I'm not reckless," he tensed his muscles, picturing what he needed to do in order to avoid getting killed.

"And I don't like to play," he said, deliberately pitching the tone of his voice low and threatening, even if Alice thought he sounded ridiculous from the surprised look she flashed him. Before the words were completely out, he spun on his would-be attacker and smashed the palm of his flat hand straight into the man's face, angling upwards right between his mouth and nose. Frank heard a satisfying crack as he brought his other hand up, and had his wand at the man's throat before anyone could say a word.

"Don't even think about it," he growled. He stared into the black eyes of Borman Wilkes, a suspected Death Eater only a year or two behind him at Hogwarts. Frank wasn't sure what he would bring him in on exactly, but he'd come up with something. At the very least, the men had just accosted two Aurors without provocation. He turned toward his partner to see Alice wrestling with her own attacker, another former Slytherin he recognized as Amycus Carrow.

Before he could bind his prisoner, however, Frank felt an excruciating pain in his right arm as a powerful curse smashed into it. His wand spun away into the street as he clutched his broken arm to his chest. Two masked wizards stepped out from behind a nearby building with their wands raised as Borman Wilkes scrambled away.

"Hamilton, watch out!" Frank yelled as a jet of red light raced toward her. She ducked just in time for it to hit her attacker in the face, and he crashed to the ground behind her. She whirled on their new attackers and immediately began dueling them both, her wand quick and steady.

Frank dodged a spell from Wilkes and practically threw himself on top of his fallen wand, grabbing it just in time to raise an awkward but effective shield with his left hand while he cradled his broken arm. He jumped up and fired back, but Wilkes just laughed as he easily parried it away and sent a strong Disarming Spell back. Again, Frank barely managed to block it; he was good with his left hand, but not that good and knew he couldn't keep it up for long.

Alice was still dueling the two new Death Eaters when a jet of yellow light cut across her upper leg; she doubled over, crying out in pain, then swore vehemently as she stood up straight, her face determined. Frank felt his blood boil, and at the last second he let his Stunner fly to the left instead of toward Wilkes, catching one of her attackers in the stomach without warning; the man dropped like a rock.

Several things happened at once. Alice turned to glare at him, but the wizard she was still dueling did not stop. He cast a jinx that sent her sprawling, landing hard on her injured leg with a groan. Frank jumped in front of her, shielding her as Borman Wilkes joined the other wizard and they began to rain curses on them both. And then several loud cracks signaled the arrival of two more masked Death Eaters that immediately began advancing on them as well.

Frank processed this all in a split second. He was injured and dueling with his weaker hand, Alice was on the ground in pain, and they were outnumbered with more Death Eaters likely to arrive. As he quickly glanced around, he saw the old man from the pub watching dispassionately from down the street, as if calling the shots from afar, and he knew they couldn't fight four--or more--at once.
Besides, they already had what they needed most: a lead.

Casting a shaky Shield Charm as he stepped to her side, Frank grabbed his partner's wrist and dragged her to her feet. Alice opened her mouth to speak, probably to protest, but he fired a spell at the ground that sent up clouds of red smoke, distracting their attackers, then turned on the spot and Apparated away.

They were safe.

They reappeared at the Apparition point of the reception room at St. Mungo's. Alice threw him off, breathing heavy as she limped away from him. She was obviously furious, but for some reason Frank felt the beginning of a very inappropriate reaction beginning in his chest.

"I can Apparate myself, you know," she practically hissed, rubbing her wrist where he had grabbed her tightly. "And what are we doing here? I'm fine, I don't need a Healer…" She trailed off as he started laughing. He couldn't help it. It was just so utterly, madly ridiculous he had to let it out somehow. So he laughed.

"What's so funny, Longbottom?" she demanded, and her face was red and dirty, her hazel eyes blazing. He laughed even harder through the pain throbbing in his arm.

"Nothing," he replied as he walked toward the Inquiries desk, cradling his arm. "If you don't need a Healer for that gash on your leg, then you can stagger back to the Ministry and start filling out the paperwork. Tell 'em I've got this." He gave her a rather giddy look as he waved the envelope he had lifted from Borman Wilkes. "I, however, need to have my arm set."

He saw her face register shock and then horror before he turned away and gave his name to the rather surprised Welcome Witch behind the desk. He felt rather than heard Alice come up beside him, and she looked almost sick.

"I had no idea you'd been hit so bad," she murmured, eyeing his arm in disbelief.

He shrugged, although he was secretly pleased at how remorseful she felt. Was it because he had been injured or because it was her fault they had been attacked in the first place? Looking into her suddenly worried face, he found he wasn't angry with her now. Maybe it was the pain, maybe it was the adrenaline flowing out of him and leaving him exhausted, maybe it was because she had fought well: it didn't bother him anymore.

"Lesson learned," he said, running a hand through his hair. It came back covered with blood from a cut he hadn't even felt at the time. Merlin, there was going to be a lot of paperwork with this one. Maybe she really should go back and get started. He followed the witch behind the desk toward a large open treatment room in the back, where a number of beds allowed witches and wizards to be treated quickly and then moved to the appropriate ward for further care. He didn't even notice that Alice had followed him until he sat down on a cot and she helped him move back, even propping a pillow behind him. He narrowed his eyes at her.

"What are you still doing here?" he asked.

She shrugged without looking at him. "I should have my leg looked at."

He was silent, but she kept talking as if she felt the need to say something more. "And I should stay with my partner."

"I'm fine," he said. "I've had worse." Which wasn't entirely true, but he said it anyway.

She wouldn't look at him, and he was half tempted to tilt her chin up so she would, but he knew such a gesture would be wildly inappropriate since it suddenly made him think about doing wildly inappropriate things. Instead he cleared his throat, shaking the thought from his head. "Everyone makes mistakes. Just don't make another. I hate having my arm set."

She looked up with wide eyes that were almost brimming with tears. He was shocked to see them, as he was so used to her challenges and insults, clever remarks wrapped up in snark. He hoped she wasn't rattled; she may have got them into the fight, but she'd been good in the thick of it, and he'd hate to see her confidence shaken so early.

Or maybe he wouldn't mind if she learned something from that night; maybe then she would stop giving him such a hard time and they could have a more normal working relationship.

Either way, as the Healer came in to look at his arm, he found himself closing his eyes and reconsidering Alice Hamilton as a partner. He tried not to dwell on the passing impulse to kiss her, instead trying to focus on their assignment and the attack so he could recall it clearly for Robertson and the reports.

Unfortunately, any chance he had of maintaining his record of thought was destroyed when the emergency alarms blared from the reception area. Seconds later, John Dawlish staggered into the room with John Lupin, who was battered and bloody and barely conscious.

* * *

Chapter Five

Alice stared at the two men as the Healer who had been with Frank rushed past to help move John Lupin to a nearby bed. She was roused from her state of shock by a thump behind her and turned to find Frank trying to catch his balance after sliding off the bed, his broken arm still held tight to his chest. She helped him stand straight.

"What happened?" he demanded, and she could hear the alarm in his voice. "Where's Gawain?"

Dawlish didn't answer as he heaved Lupin onto the bed. Then he turned and faced them. Alice had been so stunned by Lupin's appearance that she hadn't even noticed her friend: he was dirty, his robes ripped, a large cut on his head bleeding down the side of his face. He appeared very unsteady on his feet.

"We were attacked," he gasped out.

"Obviously," Frank snapped, and Alice laid a hand on his arm to calm him.

"Where's Gawain, John?" she asked as gently yet urgently as she could. "Is he all right?"

Dawlish shook his head. "He told me to get Lupin out. He was fighting them all…we need to go back…" He took a step forward, as if intending to help to his partner, but his knees buckled beneath him, and he slumped to the floor.

Alice hurried to help him as another Healer ran over. Frank swore again; as soon as Alice was standing, he took her arm again and led her away. Her leg was still throbbing, and she tried not to limp.

"He'll be fine here," he said. "But he's right: we have to help Gawain."

Alice stared at him, wondering if he had gone mad. "You're hurt, I'm injured, and we don’t even know where he is!"

"I'm guessing at Lupin's house. We have to at least try." Frank took a deep breath. "You went through basic healing spells in your training, right?" Alice nodded, not liking where the conversation was going. "Then immobilize my arm and cast a pain-relieving spell. I'll do the same for your leg."

"Frank, we should--"

"There's no time!" he snapped again. "Just do it so we can get out of here."

Alice could tell from the look on his face that he was determined and that she would not talk him out of it, so she took a calming breath, conjured a large bandage that bound his arm to his chest, and cast a quick pain-relieving spell. It would not work as well as a draught, but she saw him relax as it kicked in; he raised his wand and cast matching spells for her leg. She couldn't help but snort: some pair they were, charging to the rescue.

He gave her a lopsided grin as they headed back into the reception room to the small area set aside for Apparating. "We can do it. Come on. Lupin's house." She thought he was going to take her arm for another Side-Along, but he let his hand drop at the last minute, then turned on the spot and disappeared. She reluctantly did the same.

She reappeared in the dark just outside John Lupin's home. Frank was frowning, for it was peaceful and silent: it appeared as if nothing were wrong whatsoever. They exchanged a worried glance and ran toward the back door, wands out.

Inside, it was dark and quiet; Frank lit his wand as they carefully made their way through the house searching for Gawain Robards. All around them were signs of a fierce fight: broken chairs, scorch marks on the walls, glass from picture frames strewn about the floor. The house was practically destroyed. A blood trail leading down the hallway chilled her.

They found Gawain Robards in the front room of the house, his oddly contorted body lying still and silent beside the sofa. There was another body on the other side of the room. Alice felt her heart stop as Frank ran toward his former partner.

He turned Robards over, cradling his head in his lap with his good arm. "Gawain?" he said softly, and Alice heard the catch in his voice as she glanced around the room, wand ready in case any of the attackers were still in the house. "Stay with me, partner. Come on, wake up and tell us what happened."

Alice walked over and placed a hand on Robard's chest. He was breathing, but barely. His right leg was obviously broken, and his face was battered and bloody. He could have a concussion or internal injuries, or he might have fallen to a spell of Dark Magic. They needed to get him to St. Mungo's as soon as possible.

"I can Side-Along with him," she said quietly to Frank. He looked at her with wide eyes, obviously stunned at finding his former partner so seriously injured. "He's alive, but we have to stabilize him and get him to the hospital."

Frank nodded as Alice set the spells she had learned in training to stabilize an injured Auror for transport. He took a deep breath as he stood and glanced around. "Thank you. You take him back. I'll stay here and make sure it's clear and secure."

Alice shook her head. "No, not by yourself. You need backup, in case they return."

"I'll be fine--" Frank protested, but she stopped him again.

"You have a broken arm. You need to get back to St. Mungo's too." She raised her eyebrows at him. "So you're coming with us or I'll jinx you and Side-Along you both."

Frank opened his mouth to protest, apparently reconsidered, then finally nodded. "Fine. Let's secure the area and go."

It took only moments to set the spells over the house and yard that would keep anyone from contaminating what was now a major crime scene. Other Aurors would be sent to investigate once they reported to the office, but for now, they needed to take care of Robards.

Frank picked up a photograph from the floor, a picture of John Lupin with his son. He was gazing at it as if in a daze, and Alice lightly touched his good arm to get his attention. He practically jumped at her touch. "We need to go, Frank."

She wondered if he would really leave, or if he would stubbornly wait for backup, but when she said his name again, he rolled his eyes at her and Disapparated. She followed carefully with Gawain Robards, hoping that they weren't too late.

* * *

Several hours later, Alice sat with John Dawlish as he recovered from his injuries. Although it was the middle of the night and he clearly needed his sleep, it was important that they learn what had happened before the details were lost to hazy memory. Frank was with Gawain and Head Auror Robertson, his arm set but sore; Alice half-wished she was with them, as Frank had seemed unusually distressed by his former partner's state.

From what John told her, he and Robards had done their best against multiple attackers, but had been overwhelmed by stealth, strength, and surprise. John had been outside when he had been Stunned from behind, hitting his head on a rock as he fell, and when he had come to he had found Gawain standing over Lupin in the front of the house, desperately holding back four Death Eaters in spite of multiple injuries. Dawlish had taken down one man to get to Gawain's side, where his partner had immediately ordered him to take Lupin to St. Mungo's.

He had protested, but he had already taken a blow to the head and knew he wasn't in it for much longer. And so while Gawain had created a quick diversion, John had Apparated to St. Mungo's with Lupin while his partner stayed behind. Alice filled him in on the rest.

"We went back to the house, but it was over," she said softly. "Robards was unconscious. There was one body, but no sign of any of the others who attacked you. We secured the area for later and came back here with Gawain."

"What were you doing here at St. Mungo's in the first place?" asked John, eyes closed as he lay in bed. "I thought you two were out on assignment somewhere."

"We were," she said with a sigh. "We got into a scrap of our own down in Godric's Hollow. Frank Apparated us here with some evidence to have his arm set right before you arrived."

John opened his eyes. They were dull and glassy, but he was tired and probably in shock after his first real battle as an Auror. Still, he looked concerned. "What evidence?" he asked. "And are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Alice said. "Just a hit to my leg. I can still outrun you any day." She smiled ruefully. "And I don't know what it was, some envelope we caught a couple of Death Eaters exchanging at a pub in the village."

He twitched his head as if fighting off a shiver of some sort, then closed his eyes again. "How's Gawain?" he asked after a few moments of silence. His voice sounded flat, full of guilt and grief.

"He'll recover," answered a voice from the doorway. Frank was standing there, and he looked as exhausted as she felt. For some reason, Alice had to hold back the impulse to jump up and embrace him. She knew he was all right, after all; it was just that he looked so tired and tense.

"I shouldn't have left him," John said, opening his eyes and shaking his head.

"Maybe," Frank said, his lips tight. "But he probably would have sent you back by Portkey if you hadn't, so you did what you had to. You were following orders."

Alice gave him a funny look: is that what Frank would have done, sent her back by Portkey if she had refused to follow his orders? She'd have to remember that if the situation were ever reversed. "Did he have anything important to tell us?" she asked.

"He's got some pretty serious injuries, so we didn't press him too hard, but he said the same thing you told us," Frank replied, nodding at Dawlish. "That you were taken down outside, and suddenly there were four inside that went straight for Lupin."

"And how is Lupin?" asked Alice. When Frank didn't answer, she felt a cold hand wrap around her heart. "No," she whispered. "He's not…"

Frank ran a hand through his hair and then rubbed his cheeks as if trying to get the words out. His voice broke when he spoke. "He didn't make it--didn't have a chance, really. John Lupin died an hour ago."

He seemed to be making a point of not looking at Dawlish. Turning to her friend, Alice saw he was pale and sweating, his eyes broken as he shook his head. "I was too late," he whispered. "It's my fault, I should have done something…"

"You did your best," Frank replied, but Alice wondered if he was forcing the words. In a way, Dawlish was right: he had failed in his duty to protect John Lupin. The Ministry's last best connection to the werewolf community had been murdered, and there was no one to take his place. Voldemort had likely just won a minor victory in the ongoing war: numbers to swell his ranks. Small numbers, perhaps, but frightening ones none-the-less.

"It's not your fault," Alice said, taking his hand and squeezing. He didn't look at her, but she continued anyway, desperate to reassure him. "It was the wizards who killed him. You tried to save him."

John just shook his head and closed his eyes, and Alice glanced helplessly at Frank, who was looking down at the injured Auror with pity. He met her eyes and murmured, "Can I talk to you? In private?"

She nodded and stood. John appeared to be sleeping, but she doubted he would rest well. She could only imagine his anguish, the guilt he must be feeling over losing his charge. Only a week earlier she had been in his place, guarding the Lupin house from out on the grounds. It could have been her that was attacked outside, her lying in that bed. She felt her own guilt grow from the relief that it wasn't--and more importantly, that it wasn't Frank in the other room.

She followed her partner into the hallway. Again she felt the strange urge to embrace him. It just seemed like he needed the comfort after such a long night. Then again, he was the experienced Auror: he had been through far more and perhaps far worse. Maybe she was the one who needed support, the one who wanted a hug. Shaking her head, she tried to smile at him, and to her surprise, he smiled back.

"You did good tonight," he said, surprising her even more.

"I thought I was the one who got us into trouble in the first place," she replied, confused. "Back at the pub."

"That's true, you did," he laughed, an overtired edge to his voice. "But you fought well. And if you hadn't landed us in that bit of trouble, we wouldn't have been here tonight and might not have found Gawain in time."

"Is he really going to be all right?" she asked softly, wondering if he had tempered his words for Dawlish. Frank nodded, stifling a yawn.

"Yes, he will. He'll be out of work for a while, though. Broken leg, several cracked ribs, nasty head wound, and some sort of Dark magic that he'll be shaking off for weeks."

"So what now?" she asked.

"Now we go home," he replied. "Robertson's orders. He's got another team at the house already and said we can do our paperwork tomorrow."

"We're not even getting the day off?" she tried to joke, and was rewarded with another wan smile.

"Did you really think we would?" he asked. "Come on, I'll walk you out."

"How chivalrous," she murmured as she walked out of the ward with him. She still had so much she wanted to ask him. They were silent as they left the hospital; it was the middle of the night and the excitement had died down, so everything was quiet. As they stepped out into the cool night, Alice gazed up at the stars and thought about how different the world suddenly was after all she had just experienced.

"Tell me about John Lupin."

Frank gave her that long look he had when he was thinking. Finally he blew out his breath and sat down on the curb. She joined him, not really caring about getting dirty anymore.

"He was practically gone when Dawlish brought him in. Something brutal, some curse that…that…" He swallowed thickly, as if it were too horrible to contemplate, and shook his head. "It killed him. Painfully."

"Was it Greyback?" she asked. They were sitting shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee, but she made sure to keep her hands folded tightly in her lap.

"Yes, it was Greyback. Gawain got in a good shot at him too, so hopefully he's injured somewhere out there."

"Why would they kill Lupin but not John and Gawain?" she asked. "Why leave them alive?"

"Maybe they were lucky." Frank rolled his neck as if he was trying to relax. "Or maybe Greyback just wanted to make them suffer even more."

"Then why not wait till the full moon?" she pressed. "That would be even more devastating, wouldn't it?"

He shrugged. "I don't know why they attacked tonight. But I do know it's very likely You-Know-Who will have the werewolf population on his side within weeks."

"It doesn't make sense," she said. "Why would they support You-Know-Who when one of his own just killed their best link to wizarding society?"

"Fear," Frank replied, his voice flat. "They'll be scared, for one. And Lupin was always fighting a losing battle. Werewolves are so stigmatized that they readily believe You-Know-Who when he says he'll give them equal rights. Now they have no one trying to convince them otherwise."

They were silent for a moment as they thought about the repercussions. It was a seemingly small yet significant loss for them all. And then she remembered: John Lupin had a son.

"Has anyone contacted Remus Lupin?" she asked. "Merlin, he's just lost his father…"

Frank let his head fall into his hands. "Yes," he whispered. "He was there, at the end. One of the Healers is apparently a member of the Order of the Phoenix. She got word to Dumbledore somehow, and he arrived with Remus almost immediately. It was awful."

"Did you know him at Hogwarts?" she asked curiously. She remembered Remus Lupin from her last four years at Hogwarts, though she had not had much contact with him.

"Just a bit. Did you?" She nodded, but didn't say anything. They were silent once more, sitting side-by-side on the chilled pavement. Alice felt remarkably comfortable and resisted the urge to lay her head on Frank's shoulder. She was tired, but they were still partners, after all, and definitely not those kind of partners. Finally he stood and offered her a hand to help her up. She took it without thinking and felt a small shock course through her arm at his warm touch; her breath caught in her throat as she gazed down at their intertwined fingers.

He seemed to have felt it too, because he stared at their hands as if in a daze, then shook himself free. With a nod, he stepped back, as if distancing himself from the strange feeling. "Thanks for everything tonight, Hamilton."

"You're welcome," she replied automatically, still gazing down at her hand. "But now that we've Apparated together, why don't you call me Alice?"

She looked up to see him nod slowly, licking his lips. A sudden vision of him leaning down to kiss her came to mind and she literally blinked it away. He abruptly turned away; she wondered if he had thought the same thing. "Good night, Alice," he called over his shoulder. "See you in the morning." With a glance around the empty street, he turned and Apparated away.

Alice gazed at the spot where he had stood before she turned in her place and reappeared in her own flat. Throwing herself into bed without even bothering to change, she tried to put the long night from her mind: the men at the pub, the duel in the street, the sight of John Dawlish struggling into St. Mungo's with John Lupin. Most of all, she tried to forget her partner's clear blue eyes gazing into her own, and the strange new feelings that had fluttered in her chest when he had taken her hand and helped her up.

They were working partners, nothing else. And she suspected they were about to have much, much more work to do after that night.

* * *

Chapter Six

Things were different after that night at St. Mungo's, or perhaps Frank was just imagining it after the conversation on the curb. Alice seemed more reserved: she didn't complain about the paperwork, and she didn't goad him quite as much either. It was as if she were deliberately distancing herself from the working relationship they had, and he missed it. Did she not want to work with him now that she had seen action as his partner? Or was she just shaken, like he had been after the first time he had faced Death Eaters with Gawain?

Frank had made sure not to include any reference to her impulsive actions in Godric's Hollow, instead referring to everything that had happened as a mutual decision. Gawain had picked up on it almost instantly, however, and had given Frank the look until he'd told his former partner the real story while visiting St. Mungo's. Was Alice upset about it being her fault? Did she feel guilty for getting them into trouble? He had told her she'd done well and he had meant it; he didn't want to see her pull away because she might have made one mistake.

Or was it something else? He had wanted to lean over and kiss her when he had left her that night, had even taken a fraction of a step forward before realizing what he was doing. It was so sudden, so strong, so unexpected. He recognized an acute stress reaction when he had one, but it hadn't gone away: he still thought about it, every time he saw her. He tried not to, because he knew it was wrong and probably still a response to their intense experience together, but had she somehow sensed his feelings that night, when they had sat outside the hospital? Was she uncomfortable with him now because she didn't feel the same way?

At least they had a lead to work on, something to distract them from Lupin's death, Robard's absence, and the quick loss of the werewolf community to Voldemort's forces. Something had gone down in Godric's Hollow between Wilkes, Carrow, and their mysterious patron. They needed to track down the old man in the pub and try to figure out what it was.

Frank had gone into the office the next day with the envelope he had lifted from Wilkes's cloak. It had contained a single vial of some sort of white powder that Frank had immediately locked down with a Quarantine Spell and sent to the Potions lab. When he had gone down there later, however, he was told that it was not there. In fact, the witch he had handed it to had no memory of him ever being there, nor was there any record of him turning it in. They didn't seem concerned about it either, simply assuming he had misplaced it himself, but Frank was livid: it was their strongest lead on whatever was happening in Godric's Hollow, and now it was gone.

At least it wasn't their only clue: they knew two of the men involved and had got a good look at the third, so they combed through report after report, trying to identify the older man, to connect him to Wilkes or Carrow and gleam some idea of why he was exchanging an unidentified white powder with two suspected Death Eaters in a pub in Godric's Hollow.

There was a funeral for John Lupin at the end of the week, and they attended together both because Robertson had asked them to go, but also because they wanted to be there. They had spent two weeks with Lupin, after all, and had come to know and respect him. Gawain was still in the hospital, recovering from his injuries and unable to attend. John Dawlish was not there either; he had been into the office only twice since the attack and was recuperating at home. Alice said he was not doing well.

The service was crowded. Frank spotted Remus Lupin near the front, sitting with his friends from Hogwarts and an older man who looked more like one of them than a relative of the Lupins. Albus Dumbledore sat behind them with Alastor Moody, Joseph Robertson, and several others. As with most funerals, it was sad yet celebratory: John Lupin had accomplished much in his life to be speak of. Yet Frank sensed that most people were thinking more about the loss to the wizarding world and what Lupin's death would mean for the werewolves he had fought so hard for.

At the end of the service, Frank and Alice went up to offer their condolences. Frank wasn't sure what to say to someone who had just lost his father, as his own had died when he was only ten, but Remus was as calm and collected as he was in school. He shook hands with them both, thanking them for what they had done for his father. Frank could only nod wordlessly; it could have easily been him and Alice who had failed to protect John Lupin, instead of Dawlish and Robards. He once more swallowed his guilty relief that it wasn't.

They left Remus standing with the older man he had been sitting with, who introduced himself as Harrington Potter. James's father, then. James was standing with Sirius Black and a third boy--Peter Pettigrew, wasn't it?--slightly off to the side. Frank was about to turn toward them when he heard Alice sniff beside him. Glancing down, he saw her holding back tears.

He suddenly wanted to put his arm around her shoulder, but stuffed his hands into his pockets instead. "You all right?" he asked, knowing it was a stupid question. She gave him a sad smile.

"I'm fine, really. Are you ready to go, though? I think I'd like to head back to the office now."

He nodded as they walked away. They passed Remus's friends with the quick wave of housemates who had not seen one another for several years. The three Gryffindors were engaged in a heated discussion: James Potter sounded upset, and Frank was fairly certain he heard Sirius Black say something about the Order of the Phoenix. Maybe they really were thinking about joining. They must have just finished N.E.W.T.s, so it was possible the Order would find its numbers growing within weeks.

Frank and Alice Apparated back to the Ministry and made their way to the Auror Office, silent the entire time. He wondered what she was thinking about, until they sat down and she gave him an unusually long, thoughtful look.

"What?" he finally asked, confused; she was not usually so quiet with her thoughts.

"We're not getting anywhere with anything," she said, and she sounded frustrated. "We don't have the vial, we don't know who the old man is, and we don’t know what's going on in Godric's Hollow."

"You are absolutely right," he replied with a frustrated sigh. "We know nothing. So do you have any brilliant ideas?"

"One. The old man gave Wilkes a vial of some sort of powder. Perhaps it was something that could be used in a potion, right?" When he nodded, she leaned forward and continued. "Then instead of flipping through more Auror reports looking for this guy, maybe we need to look for him somewhere else."

"Where?" Frank asked. "Godric's Hollow? Robertson doesn't want us going back there yet."

She waved away the suggestion. "No, something a bit closer. If our man was playing with powders, maybe he's an apothecary. So what we need is a list of apothecaries, and then we can start questioning them to see if anyone can point us to the man from Godric's Hollow."

Frank nodded approvingly, impressed with the suggestion; he should have thought of it himself. "We don't know for sure if he's any sort of potioneer, but it's something."

"If we don't find him in an apothecary, maybe someone will at least know him," she replied. "It's worth a try."

"It definitely is," he said, smiling at her and hoping it might give her some confidence back. "Good thinking."

"Thanks." She smiled. "Not that I minded having a relatively calm week after last weekend, but we're getting nowhere, and I'm getting bored."

Frank couldn't help but laugh: that was the Alice Hamilton he knew. "Come on, let's head down to the records division then. They should be able to help us with a list of apothecaries."

* * *

By Monday, they had their list, and with Robertson's permission they started canvassing every apothecary on it. When Frank had visited Gawain at St. Mungo's over the weekend, his former partner had also suggested trying to sketch a picture to take with them, to help in identifying the man from Godric's Hollow.

They started in Diagon Alley, but no one recognized the man in the portrait. Either it was too rough, or they were unwilling to identify the man. Alice suggested that perhaps the man had been out of the business for too long and they just hadn't talked to anyone old enough, but Frank did not remember him being quite that old, compared to some of the wizards they had spoken with; he found it more likely that if anyone did know the man in the picture, they were simply too frightened to admit it.

He was certain of it when they stepped into Knockturn Alley and entered a dodgy shop next to an even dodgier pub. An ancient white-haired wizard stood behind the dirty counter. When Frank showed him the picture, the apothecary's eyes widened slightly before he glanced up with a blank face. "I've never seen him, sorry."

"Yes, you have," Frank snapped, his patience worn thin after so many attempts, and the other wizard’s true reaction poorly concealed. "Who is he and where can we find him?"

"I wouldn't tell you if I knew," the man hissed. "And you can't force me."

"Actually, I can--" Frank started, but Alice interrupted him.

"Why wouldn't you tell us?" she asked, stepping in front off Frank as if she were afraid he might jinx the seedy apothecary. "If you knew him."

"If I knew him, I would tell you he's a dangerous man who doesn't appreciate his name being handed out to a bunch of green Aurors," the man replied.

"Great," muttered Frank, ignoring the insult. "That means no one will tell us then."

The apothecary shrugged. "I doubt it. Besides, if I knew him, I'd wager he's been out of the profession for too long for anyone to remember much about him." He was giving Alice a pointed look; she frowned and nodded.

"Right. Thank you, Mr. Burke. We appreciate your help."

"What help?" he asked, turning away.

"We appreciate your candor, then. Have a good day." She took Frank by the arm and guided him from the shop and back toward Diagon Alley. She seemed to be thinking deeply, so Frank was silent as they made their way back to the Ministry. For some reason he was on edge: the subtle touch on his arm had sent sparks through his body once more, and he felt like it was wrong to have such thoughts about his partner, even though he couldn't help it.

It was as they were leaving Knockturn Alley that he spotted two wizards deep in conversation outside a nearby shop. They were glancing around suspiciously, as if they did not want to be overheard, but Frank picked up something from their conversation about a requiem before they saw him and turned away. He was tempted to go after them--why would wizards be talking about some sort of requiem, it was a Muggle word--but he filed it away instead, deciding to concentrate on finding their mysterious potioneer first.

"You're thinking too hard," he finally grumbled to his partner as they entered the Ministry and headed toward the Auror office. "Are you going to tell me your big breakthrough or not?" She shook her head as if trying to clear it.

"I'm not sure. But that apothecary did tell us two things: the man we're looking for is considered dangerous, and he's been out of the potions business for a while. So we probably need to go back to the records division and dig a bit deeper to find him."

He raised an eyebrow. "I thought you liked getting out of the office?" he said.

"Oh, I doubt we'll find much of anything," she said with a rueful shrug. "And then we'll just have to go back out tomorrow."

He couldn't help but laugh as they reached their desks. They failed to find any more clues for the rest of the afternoon, however, and Frank returned the next day just as frustrated as ever. It had been almost a fortnight since their assignment in Godric's Hollow, and they had made little progress on anything, anywhere. There were two reports of the mysterious requiem whispers Frank had overheard in Knockturn Alley, but he couldn't concentrate on his own case let alone something so unrelated.

"Sod this!" he finally exclaimed, throwing down his quill in frustration halfway through the morning. Alice glanced up at him, a curious expression on her face. Why didn't she make some sarcastic remark about his temper, his look, even his personality? It bothered him that he missed it, but at least it had been something more than the pressing, guilty silence. He was beginning to think that he had wronged her in some way, but couldn't think of how, aside from the inappropriate thoughts he still couldn't shake.

"Everything all right?" she asked, then went back to the stack of parchments she was going through, yet even older records of registered apothecaries.

"No," he replied, standing and grabbing his robes. "Now I'm the one who needs to get out of here. Let's go." She eyed him in surprise; he knew he was not usually so impatient, but he couldn't help it.

"Where are we going?" Again the calm response. Boring. He had come to count on her more fiery personality to bring some life into his dull routine. He needed it back and would get a response from her if he had to goad it out of her.

"Early lunch," he said. "Hogsmeade. We can dig around up there, instead of in this stuffy office."

"And is that what Robertson ordered?" she asked curiously.

"No, it's what I ordered," he replied. "We're following a lead."

"What lead?"

"Whatever lead we find up there," he replied, daring her to challenge him.

She merely raised her eyebrows, but he saw the barest hint of a smile tugging at her lips and just wished she'd let it out already. So she had messed up and he had broken his arm. He was fine. He wasn't angry, and at least they had something to work on thanks to her gaffe with the wizards in the pub and her ideas to follow up on it. She needed to stop beating herself up over it. Her guilt--if that was it--was starting to rub off on him.

She grabbed her robes as he left the office and headed down to the Atrium. They were silent in the lifts, until they stepped out and made their way toward the designated Apparition points. As they stood in the queue--apparently several other people had decided on an early lunch as well--she rocked back on her heels a bit and gave him a sly sideways glance.

"So Hogsmeade," she remarked casually. "The Three Broomsticks?"

He nodded once; she finally grinned.

"I certainly hope it's better than the last time you took me there." He couldn't help it: he grinned back, glad for one smart remark at last, even if it was about the most embarrassing thing that had happened to him all of seventh year.

"Why do you think I picked it?" he returned as flippantly as he could. It was his turn in the queue. "Time to make amends. See you there." He Apparated away with the surprised look on her face firmly in mind.

When he arrived at the Apparition point in Hogsmeade, he stepped away and took a deep breath to calm himself as he waited for Alice to arrive. It was an early summer afternoon, cloudy and cool, and the residents of Hogsmeade were out and about their regular business as they set off for the Three Broomsticks together. Yet Frank sensed an underlying tension that he had not felt the last time he had been there: the war was escalating.

He let his senses stay on alert, but tried not to convey his concern to Alice. He really did want to just get out of the office and enjoy lunch before continuing with their search for the old man they had seen in Godric's Hollow. He knew perfectly well he sometimes worked too hard, too obsessively on something. He needed a break from trying to track down Wilkes and his handler, and so did Alice. And he had decided he wanted to bring up their working relationship over the past few weeks. It was too awkward to continue the way it was.

They talked about small things as they walked, about Hogwarts and their classes and some of the memorable experiences they had shared there, from rowdy Gryffindor parties to losing the Quidditch Cup to Hufflepuff for the first time in years. They skirted around the one memory they had yet to mention past their first meeting back when they had become partners. And Alice still seemed distant, which made him wonder if it had been a bad idea to bring her there. Yet it also made him even more determined to ask her if everything was all right. He was her partner, after all, and he needed to be sure everything was straight between them or their lives could be in danger out in the field.

The Three Broomsticks was growing crowded as they entered, but they found a table in the back and ordered a light lunch from Madam Rosmerta. She gave them a rather pointed smirk, and he sighed; he shouldn't have been surprised, as their one and only date had been a rather spectacular disaster, even if it had happened four years ago. He knew Rosmerta still talked about it, considering she had mentioned it to him just about every time he'd come back to the pub since; he just hoped she didn't bring it up in front of Alice.

As they waited for their food, an awkward silence descended, and Frank was almost certain it had been a mistake to bring her to the Three Broomsticks, of all places. They had come on a date during a Hogsmeade weekend his seventh year, but so many things had gone wrong it was almost a wonder they had survived: a sudden storm on the way into town had left them soaked to the bone before they could cast an Umbrella Charm. A botched attempt to dry off had only embarrassed them both. A bouquet of yellow flowers purchased in apology had produced a violent allergic reaction. Lunch at the Three Broomsticks had been interrupted by a very jealous ex-boyfriend, resulting in a bar fight, several extra appendages, a trip to the hospital wing for a broken nose, and a month of detention. As well as a very pissed-off date and the end of any potential relationship: they hadn't spoken for the rest of the year.

"Look, I'm sorry about--" Frank finally started.

"I'm sorry I--" Alice began at the same time. She stopped.

"Right. You first," he said.

She shrugged as she toyed with a glass of water. "I don't know why we're even talking about it. It was four years ago."

"It was the worst date ever," Frank replied dryly. "I can't apologize enough." To his relief, she burst out laughing.

"It really was," she finally gasped out. "Especially the tail." Frank shook his head and shuddered: he had almost forgotten about that particular spell gone wrong.

"I know I apologized at the time, but I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry it was such an awful first date."

She smiled at him. "I know. It wasn't your fault, not really. It was just really bad luck. And you have to admit, it's a good story to tell. I know Rosmerta likes to still tell it."

Frank rolled his eyes, and she gave him her victorious look, and just like that it was over: the awkward history between them was just that, history.

"Can I ask you something?" Frank finally approached the subject he'd been avoiding for days, hoping now was as good a time as any. She gave him a curious look before nodding in reply.

"Things have been…well, different since Godric's Hollow," he said, and to his embarrassment, he was so nervous he could hardly look her in the eye. "And I'm not sure why, only I want to be sure we're okay, because …well, we're partners, and we've got to be there for one another…especially if we…" He trailed off at the amused look on her face. "What?"

She set down her napkin and shook her head. "No, I'm sorry. I'm not making fun. I understand."

"You do?" he asked. "Is there something wrong then? Something I said, something I did?" He hadn't meant to ask about the latter, but it slipped out with his fear that he had indeed done something wrong, something more than just thinking inappropriate thoughts about the woman he worked with.

"Of course not!" she exclaimed. "You haven't done anything at all."

He was relieved, but still felt like his concern was unanswered. "Then is anything else wrong?"

She was quiet as she looked away. "Maybe you were just right with what you said about the fire," she finally replied.

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You said most people think they can handle it, but then they get burned." She pierced him with a very direct look. "Maybe I got burned a bit more than I thought."

Frank almost choked on his drink, because he that's how he felt every time he accidentally brushed against her: burned. And the look on her face could have meant the same thing, but surely it didn't. She must have been referring to…

"You mean in Godric's Hollow? At the pub?"

She shrugged noncommittally. "I thought I could handle Wilkes and his friend. I didn't think we'd end up ambushed by four Death Eaters in the street."

Frank couldn't help it: he reached across the table and took her hand and once again felt the heady rush he'd felt ever since they'd grasped hands at St. Mungo's. She glanced at him in surprise. "But I already told you: you did great. Really, I should have supported you more. You got us a good lead."

"No, you got the lead. I got us ambushed." She pulled her hand away, and he felt cold without it. Merlin, he was being overdramatic. He put his hands under the table.

"And now it's gone, so we've got your plan to follow through on." He sat back and tried to smile, but his heart was thumping wildly in his chest from the simple touch of her hand. "I'm not upset, if that's what you think."

She finally met his eyes and smiled. "I know. It's not that."

"Is it about Lupin? Dawlish and Robards?" he asked. He could understand how that would upset her; he'd been troubled about it as well, and he still felt guilty when he thought about how it could have been them, could have been her…

"A bit. John is still not talking about it much at all. He's really struggling--not himself at all." Frank stiffened. He knew she was good friends with Dawlish, but didn't know how close they were. Dawlish had still not returned to work full time, only coming into the Ministry a few times to meet with Robertson. Did Alice see John outside of the office? Why should that bother him?

"Gawain is still in the hospital," Frank said instead, not wanting to talk about John Dawlish. "But they'll both be all right. It's not our fault, what happened that night."

"It could have been," she pointed out, but he shook his head and stopped himself from reaching out to her again.

"It wasn't. Maybe we were just lucky, but it didn't happen to us. We can't keep thinking like that."

She nodded knowingly, a small smile playing at her lips. "So you feel that way too?"

"Sometimes." He tried to busy himself with his lunch, but she kept watching him. "Fine. Yes, I think about it. But we can't let it get to us, get in the way of our jobs, get in the way of our…" He trailed off at the amused look on her face. "Bollocks, I'm all over the place today, aren't I?"

She laughed and patted his hand, and he laughed with her in spite of the shiver that rippled through his entire body. "It's better than the first time we were here, though."

"Anything would be better than that," he replied, glad to move away from the awkward places the conversation threatened to take them. "Sometimes I'm still surprised you didn't run the other way when you found out we were partners."

She giggled. "I tried to get John to switch with me. He refused."

"Of course he did." Frank snorted. "I cleaned him out in Gobstones at least a dozen times."

"That's what he said," she laughed. "But he also said you were a damn good Auror and that I'd learn a lot."

He gave her a skeptical look, but she nodded earnestly. "Yes, he did. You should give yourself some credit, Frank."

"I don't need any credit," he said, brushing off the compliment. "But hopefully you've learned how to do paperwork and read reports, at least."

"I'm also learning how to make flimsy connections, how to track down insubstantial leads, and how not to get attacked in the street by Death Eaters," she replied with a bit of her old, familiar cheek.

"Then we're still partners?" he blurted without thinking, because he couldn't stand the thought that she might want to be reassigned now. The surprised look on her face told him that she had not been expecting such a question, and he tried not to stumble over his words any more than he already had. "It's just that I got the impression maybe you didn't want to work together anymore, after what happened last week."

"I don't," she replied, then shook her head as he felt his heart go cold and knew it shown on his face. "No, I mean I do--I do want to work with you, because I don't want another partner." A nervous laugh told him she was just as uncomfortable as he was. "Sorry, now who's really mucking it up?"

"No, I understand," he said, hoping he sounded sincere. "We just need to get back to where we were. Before all this stuff threw us off." He meant it in more than one way, but he could never say anything, so he tried to bury it once more.

"Right. All this stuff." She finished her drink and set it down with a determined look on her face. "And that means finding that old man and figuring out what was in that envelope."

Frank left some money on the table before she could offer to pay; he stood and motioned toward the door. "Then let's visit some more apothecaries, shall we?"

They left the Three Broomsticks much as they had come in, talking and laughing about their years at Hogwarts, but this time there was no distance between them, no awkwardness as there had been when they had entered. As Frank walked past the bar, Rosmerta caught his eye and gave him a wink; he ignored it. It wasn't what she thought, anyway.

They were working partners, and at least he knew they would be staying that way.

* * *

Chapter Seven

No one in Hogsmeade could tell them anything else about the man from Godric's Hollow, which was disappointing: Alice thought someone in the magical village would have recognized him and been willing to speak to them. Then again, Godric's Hollow was clear on the other side of the country, so it was possible the man had not been north for years--that, or his reputation continued to demand silence. Either way, it was a setback. It seemed the only way for them to continue now was to go back to Godric's Hollow, and Robertson didn't want to send them there. He felt it would certainly rouse suspicions if two more Aurors showed up again after what had happened last time, even if they did disguise themselves.

Besides, there were far too many other cases for them to work, and the Head Auror assigned them a constant stream of assignments after they failed to bring up any more leads. There had been some suspicious activity in the area of Hyde Park: the Muggle papers were reporting an increase in crime in the park, mostly loitering and petty vandalism. Robertson wanted to make sure Death Eaters were not involved, so he sent them to investigate the area twice; both times they came back with nothing. If there were Death Eaters in the area, they always made sure to disappear when her and Frank arrived, and left little evidence of their presence.

Robertson also sent them to Wales, where Robards and Dawlish had investigated the death of a dragon keeper several weeks earlier. It seemed the wizard who had been hired to replace the lost trainer had gone missing…with a dragon.

They investigated it as a theft; the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures would be responsible for tracking the animal and bringing it back, unharmed and unseen. There was not much for them to do, because it quickly became clear that the wizard in question had joined the reserve staff for the sole purpose of stealing a dragon, and had disappeared quite thoroughly. Alice wasn't sure what someone would do with a dragon, in terms of feeding it and keeping it. It certainly seemed likely that the dragon had gone missing to Voldemort's forces, just as Frank had thought when Robards and Dawlish had first gone out to Wales.

Their working relationship as they Apparated around the country settled back into their old routine. If Frank hadn't taken her to lunch at the Three Broomsticks, Alice wasn't sure what things would be like between them. Yet he had clearly noticed something different in her behavior, and since she didn't want him to know what she was really thinking, she let him believe that she was shook up from the incident in Godric's Hollow and the attack on John Lupin.

She was, but in some ways she was more shaken by the sudden, unexpected feelings she'd felt that night…and every day since. All of a sudden, every time she looked at him, she thought about what it would be like if he leaned over to touch her face, take her hand, even kiss her. They were not thoughts she should be having: romantic relationships with one's partner were highly discouraged if not outright banned. And they were not thoughts she wanted to be having, because she had never pictured herself with a man like Frank Longbottom.

Then again, he wasn't quite what she had thought he was.

The following week, while investigating the sale of illegal magical creatures to unsuspecting Muggles in Edinburgh, they had gone back to the Three Broomsticks for lunch, and then out of habit they had gone back the week after that. By the fourth week, she was looking forward to it. It was relaxing, and more than anything, she felt like her and Frank weren't just partners as they sat and talked in the pub, well away from London and the Ministry of Magic: they were friends. In the office their interaction had gone back to what it was in the beginning, but in Hogsmeade he seemed to genuinely relax, smile, and look happy, and she enjoyed that more and more, even if she knew it was dangerous to let her feelings grow.

But they needed the brief respite from the constant work, given how busy the Auror office was. Robertson had everyone working overtime to cover for Robards, who was recuperating at home, and Dawlish, who was on desk duty until his partner returned. John did not seem ready to head back into the field anyway: he was quiet and withdrawn, even twitchy. Though Alice had tried to approach him about it, he had rebuffed her every time, remaining aloof and distant. She worried about him, and hoped that once Gawain returned, perhaps John might recover a bit more.

So while she and Frank continued to try and track down the old man from the pub on the side, they were also sent back to Gringotts to reassure the goblins working there that Dark magic was not responsible for the latest attempted break-in, ran down several wizards hexing Muggles for fun in Newcastle, and spent another night in Hyde Park, trying once again to confirm sightings of several suspected Death Eaters in Kensington Gardens.

They also began looking into vague whispers about some sort of 'requiem'. Frank had first heard it in Knockturn Alley; Kingsley Shacklebolt had come across the term while questioning a suspected Death Eater. Frank had told her that Alastor Moody had also had word of it, from some of the listeners and spies in the Order of the Phoenix. Whatever it was, it was important. Frank was convinced it had to do with Voldemort building his forces; Alice couldn't help but wonder if it had anything to do with the old man they were still trying to find and if there were any connection between all three.

They argued about it good-naturedly as they made their way to the Three Broomsticks yet again. It was a sunny summer afternoon, and Alice felt blithely happy. It wasn't as if she was walking hand-in-hand with her boyfriend and enjoying a day off. No, she was just walking with a coworker on a rare break from work. She tried not to think of what it would be like to slip her hand into his; instead she glanced around the street, watching for anything suspicious. Hogsmeade was still a tense place.

Her wandering eye caught a man Apparating nearby, then stumbling away as he caught his balance. He appeared frightened, glancing anxiously around the street as if he were afraid of being caught or even seen. Alice tapped Frank on the arm, interrupting him mid-sentence, and motioned toward the suspicious man. He nodded, and they walked over to where he had started up the road toward Hogwarts.

"Is everything all right, sir?" Frank asked, his voice full of authority and respect. Up close, it was clear that the man was in some sort of trouble: his robes were ripped, his face dirty, and a large purple bruise was beginning to show itself on his jaw.

"No…yes," he said, doing a double take as he glanced at their robes and the wands they held by their sides. "Are you Aurors?"

Alice nodded and stepped forward, hoping a show of sympathy would draw him out. "We are. Can we help you?"

The man's shoulders tensed as he shook his head wordlessly. He was not much older than her, though Alice did not remember him from Hogwarts. He was clearly afraid of something as he continued up the road toward the castle, his head ducked down.

"I need to talk to Albus Dumbledore," he mumbled. "Immediately."

Alice glanced at Frank, who frowned and followed the man. They quickly caught up to him, as he was obviously in some distress. "We can help you. What do you need to see Professor Dumbledore about?"

The nervous man just stared at her before shaking his head. "I can't tell an Auror. It could be you."

"What do you mean, it could be us?"

The man shook his head again and hurried up the road, waving his hand over his shoulder. "Never mind. I need to see Dumbledore. It's about the requiem…" He trailed off as he walked away. Once more Alice exchanged a wordless look with her partner, who nodded, and they continued after him, feeling a great sense of urgency.

The man never had a chance: four masked Death Eaters appeared with loud cracks in the middle of the road, wands drawn. Before either she or Frank could cast a spell, the man fell dead to a jet a green light, his body landing hard in the road as nearby villagers screamed in fright and ducked for cover.

Alice immediately ran toward them, vaguely aware that Frank was shouting something from behind her. She cast a Stunner and hit one of the masked attackers before the other three saw her and turned. Frank appeared beside her, wand drawn, and both sides began casting spells at one another and blocking them, parrying them, or throwing up Shield Charms. There were still three Death Eaters, and they were fighting fiercely, yet Alice was reasonably confident that her and Frank could take them.

But it appeared that Death Eaters had accomplished their goal and were determined to escape rather than fight. One of them cast an Incendio charm at a nearby building, setting it on fire. The distraction allowed him to escape with his unconscious comrade, Apparating away before they could be stopped. The other two attackers continued dueling in the street, until without warning they both turned on Frank and blasted apart the pavement at his feet. He was violently thrown backward, and Alice felt her heart stop as she ran toward him.

Unfortunately, she completely forgot all of her Auror training, leaving her back unprotected. Too late she realized her mistake; just as she turned to defend herself, she caught a brutal spell in the stomach that send her crumpling to the ground next to her partner.

The last thing she heard was a vicious cackle and the sound of the last two Death Eaters Apparating away.

* * *

Alice woke slowly, trying to remember where she was and what had happened before she opened her eyes. When she did, she quickly realized that she was at Hogwarts in the hospital wing, and the attack in Hogsmeade came rushing back. She groaned as she tried to sit up. She was sore but otherwise appeared uninjured. Footsteps hurried over to the side of the bed and someone helped her sit. It was Frank.

"What happened?" she asked before realizing what a stupid question it was. She'd turned her back on two Death Eaters and been hit. Frank didn't answer, just stared down at her before leaning over and suddenly taking her face in his hands. He kissed her fiercely, and she was too surprised to do anything but respond automatically and let him. She even closed her eyes, but too soon he pulled back and stepped away.

"Don't ever do that again." He sounded angry and relieved at the same time. Alice felt her mouth fall open.

"Do what?" she asked. "And what the hell was that for?"

"I don't know," he said, sounding ridiculously defensive. "But if you ever get hit like that, I might have to…I might have to do it again." He gave her a challenging look, and she couldn't help but let the corners of her mouth turn up in the beginning of a smile.

"Right," she murmured. "I'll be careful, then." She tried to smooth out her hair and robes, her heart racing, and not from her injury. She could hardly look at Frank. He had just kissed her. What did it mean? Was he just glad she was all right? Had he kissed Gawain like that when he'd woken up in St. Mungo's after the attack at Lupin's house? The thought made her giggle to herself, in part from the sheer ridiculousness of it and in part from giddy happiness. When she glanced up, Frank was pacing beside her bed. She watched him for a moment, until he felt her eyes on him and stopped. "What?" he said.

"Are you all right?" she asked pointedly. "That was some blast you took."

He waved her off. "It didn't hit me, just the pavement. It was a distraction so they could get away. I'm fine." Looking closely, she saw his clothes were dirty and his face scratched from the blast in the street. Other than that, he did appear uninjured, though more agitated than she had ever seen him before.

"How did we get here? How long was I out?" she asked.

"Someone in the village--an Order member--sent a message to Dumbledore, and he came out almost immediately. He let us in and Madam Pomfrey took care of you." Frank stopped and stared down at her, his blue eyes filled with concern. "You've only been unconscious for about an hour, really. I thought it was much worse…" He trailed off, swallowing thickly.

"Well, I'm fine too," she replied. She reached out for his hand and squeezed it reassuringly; he gave her a small smile in return. "But what was that all about? Who was that man?"

Professor Dumbledore appeared behind Frank; she dropped his hand immediately and wondered if the headmaster had seen. "His name was Barden Bagshot. He was a student a few years above you. I have contacted his family to let them know what has happened." He came to stand beside her bed, gazing down at her with a thoughtful look in his eyes. "I am still rather puzzled as to why he was targeted, however."

"He said he needed to see you, sir," Alice said. "He just Apparated into the village and set off toward the castle. He wouldn't talk to us."

"As Frank has explained," Dumbledore replied. "The question is--why would a man in his state not accept the help of two strong Aurors?"

"He thought we might be 'the one'," Frank replied, shaking his head. "Whatever that means."
Dumbledore was silent for a moment. "Perhaps he felt that there was someone in the Auror Department he could not trust, and he was concerned one of you might be that person."

"You mean, like a spy?" asked Alice. She felt a knot of dread in her stomach: it was an increasing problem in the Ministry, wizards being Imperiused to spy for Voldemort, even doing his bidding. There seemed to be little way to protect against it.

"Possibly," replied Dumbledore. "It would of course help to know what he wanted to see me about."

"If he didn't want to tell an Auror, but he did want to tell you, it must have been information for the Order of the Phoenix, don't you think, sir?" Frank said. Alice nodded, because it made sense; she just didn't understand what sort of information might have been meant for only Order members.

"That is precisely what I was thinking." Dumbledore glanced at them over his half-moon spectacles. "Alastor Moody informs me that you have been investigating an incident in Godric's Hollow."

"Yes, sir," Frank replied, looking confused. "But what does that have to do with it?"

"Barden Bagshot was from Godric's Hollow. His entire family lives there."

Alice nodded slowly. "So maybe he had some information about whatever is going on down there." Frank shot her an approving look; she did still wonder why the man could not have told an Auror, seeing as they were the official Ministry representatives in the fight against Voldemort. Then again, if the man had been worried that one of them was a spy, she could understand his reluctance to speak to them.

"Indeed, Ms. Hamilton. If you have no objections, I would like to hear more about your trip to Godric's Hollow last month."

Frank took a deep breath. "We went down there to investigate some strange sights and sounds out on the moors. We didn't come up with much--we never saw it ourselves. We were in the pub on the square when we got into it with two men who were meeting with an older man. They exchanged an envelope before things got a bit dodgy…" He glanced sideways at Alice, who flushed as she remembered her gaffe at the pub.

"I tried to chat up one of them at the bar, but he wouldn't have it. Frank pulled me out, but once we left the pub, they ambushed us in the street along with four others. I got hit in the leg and Frank broke his arm, so we Apparated out--but Frank got the envelope from one of them." She added the last to try and give him the credit he deserved for saving the assignment.

Dumbledore nodded. "I see. And did you recognize any of these men?"

"Borman Wilkes, sir," said Frank. "And I think the other was Amycus Carrow. We've been trying to identify the older man, but we haven't had any luck. Plus Robertson won't let us back down there--he's had us running around the rest of the country since we're still short Robards and Dawlish."

Dumbledore frowned. "John Dawlish has not returned to duty after the incident at the Lupin house?" he asked.

Alice shook her head. "He's on desk duty until Robards comes back. I think he needs a bit more time before he heads back into the field."

"Understandable." Dumbledore gave them both a thoughtful look. "And what was in the envelope?"

"We don't know, sir," Frank replied, and he sounded irritated. "It was a vial with some sort of white powder. I took it to the Potions lab the next day, but they lost it. They didn't even remember me bringing it in."

"So you went to Godric's Hollow to investigate a serious of suspicious events. While there, you observed an older man provide two suspected Death Eaters with a vial of an unknown white powder, which later went missing. You have not been able to identify him or the powder. Today a man from the same village appears with information for me and is murdered for it." He paused and pierced them with his blue eyes. "What do you think is the connection?"

Alice closed her eyes and tried to put it together. She knew there must be one, but it was tenuous, floating around in pieces she couldn't pull together. She still felt a bit weak from whatever spell had hit her, as well as Frank's unexpected kiss, and just wished her mind were clearer so she could be of some help, especially in front of her former headmaster.

Frank was nodding when she opened her eyes. "Barden Bagshot must have seen or heard something in Godric's Hollow he wasn't supposed to, something so important that You-Know-Who sent Death Eaters after Bagshot to kill him before he told anyone."

"That was exactly my conclusion," said Dumbledore approvingly. "And I'll take it one step further: it likely has something to do with your mysterious old man and the vial of white powder. What did this man look like?"

"We sketched a picture of him," said Alice. "It's in the pocket of my robes."

Frank took the drawing from her robes and handed it to Dumbledore, who went very still.

"You said no one has been able to identify him for you?"

"No sir, aside from an apothecary in Knockturn Alley who hinted that the man was dangerous--and that he has been out of the business for a long time," replied Frank.

Dumbledore nodded slowly as he handed back the picture and rubbed his bearded chin. "The apothecary was correct. This man's name is Walcott MacNair. He was an exceptionally talented student here almost forty years ago. He was from Godric's Hollow."

Alice felt the pieces starting to click into place. "And was he good at Potions, sir?" she asked, both dreading and hoping for the answer.

"One of the best," Dumbledore replied. "Unfortunately, after he left school, he got into trouble a number of times and spent ten years in Azkaban. When he was released, he was--as you might expect--a changed man. He became a recluse and has not been seen or heard from since. He is obviously quite a bit older than when I knew him, but I am certain that is him. A white powdery substance, you said?"

Frank nodded. "If he was a talented potioneer, it would seem reasonable to assume that it was some sort of dangerous or illegal ingredient for a potion."

"Or the potion itself."

"A powdered potion?" asked Frank. "Isn't that rare?"

"Any potent tincture can be reduced and then dried to a powdered form," replied Dumbledore. "But yes, it's rare, as we wizards prefer draughts…unless you are planning to kill someone with the need for secrecy. And then I am sure it would be quite useful."

"What?" Alice exclaimed. "Is that what you think it was? A potion meant to kill someone?"

Dumbledore placed his hands behind his back and began pacing. "You went to the West Country to investigate strange lights and sounds out on the moors. That happens to be the best part of the country for growing lunar belladonna."

"I know belladonna, but what's lunar belladonna?" asked Frank.

"It is an exceptionally rare and difficult plant to procure, in part because of its unique growing properties: it can only be sown, tended, and harvested at night, under a moonlit sky. The more moonshine, the stronger it grows."

"And is it as poisonous as belladonna?" Alice asked, still trying to follow where Professor Dumbledore was going with so much information. She knew her poisons and knew nightshade was deadly; she had not heard of lunar belladonna either, though. He nodded grimly.

"Indeed it is, though its toxicity is tied to the waxing and waning of the moon. When mixed with arrowroot and aconite, it forms one of the more deadly and subtle poisons known to man, Moonbane. It is exceptionally Dark magic."

"So Walcott Macnair is trying to poison someone," said Frank. "Or he could be working for You-Know-Who, since he passed it to Carrow and Wilkes. The thing that matters now is figuring out who it was meant for." He shook his head in frustration. "Only we have no way of even beginning to find them!"

"No, there are clues," said Dumbledore. Alice was fascinated by their quick thinking, and sat up straighter, hoping to contribute more.

"You said that you took it to the Potions laboratory, but it was not there when you went back for it the following day. They had no record of it whatsoever?"

"Nothing," said Frank. "The witch didn't even remember me…" He trailed off. "It was stolen."

"That would be my guess as well."

“And she was Obliviated.�

“Most likely.�

"By someone in the Ministry," said Alice. "There's no way they could have got into the Ministry so soon, so it had to be someone inside. There weren't that many people who knew about it, after all."

"Who knew you had this vial?" asked Dumbledore, his eyes intense. "You, Ms. Hamilton, Auror Robertson, and the witch in the Potions laboratory. Was there anyone else?"

"I think that's it," said Frank, obviously trying to remember back a month past. "I didn't tell anyone else, not even Gawain. I took it in the next day and went straight to the lab."

"I told John Dawlish," said Alice. She met their eyes as they both turned to look at her. "But it wasn't him. He might have mentioned it to someone, but he couldn't have taken it, he was in the hospital…" She trailed off, unsure why she was doubting her friend.

"He was in the office the next day," Frank said, his voice hesitant. "I saw him. And he came in a few times after he got out of St. Mungo's to see Robertson, before he came back to his desk."

"Has he been acting unusual lately?" asked Dumbledore.

Frank glanced at her somewhat helplessly. She glared at him as she answered. "I told you, he was upset about the attack on John Lupin. Of course he hasn’t been himself, no."

"Is there anyone in the office who has been ill or not been looking well?" Dumbledore pressed. "Sick, tired, run-down?"

"You mean, besides half the team?" Frank joked half-heartedly. "We all feel that way with how hard we've been working."

"The effects of this poison would be subtle: fatigue, grey hair, pale skin, headache, irritability and confusion--has anyone in the office been exhibiting those symptoms?" Dumbledore pressed them.

"Robertson is always irritable," Frank muttered.

"He does have more grey hair," said Alice, ignoring Frank and focusing on Dumbledore. She had noticed it, but had not thought much of it: they were all overworked and it seemed only natural that people would start showing signs of the stress they were under. "And terrible bags under his eyes…pale face. I've seem him stumble a few times. Do you think he's being poisoned?"

Dumbledore paused as if thinking, glancing back and forth between them both. "It's very possible, as he is a high profile target. We should see him immediately. He might not have much longer if he is."

"What do you mean?" Frank asked.

"The potion is strongest at the full moon. Few survive the night if they have been dosed several times."

“And tonight is the full moon,� Frank said, sounding grim. They moved toward the door together.

Alice started to stand, determined to go with them, but stopped as she felt a dizzying rush of blood through her body. She straightened her robes before taking a deep breath and trying again.

"Where do you think you're going?" Frank asked sharply as she came up beside him.

"I'm going with you, of course," she snapped back. "I'm not staying here if Robertson is about to be murdered. Especially if you think it's John. You need my help!"

"We can handle it--" he started, but Dumbledore interrupted them.

"Ms. Hamilton may accompany us." He swept from the hospital wing, and they followed him down the corridor, hoping they weren't too late to save Joseph Robertson. But Frank slowed down until Alice turned to him and frowned.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Look, I'm sorry about…before…" he started, hands fidgeting nervously as he avoided her eyes. She nodded slowly, enjoying his unusual discomfort in spite of the very tense situation.

"About what again?" she asked, pretending to not know. He met her gaze this time, but instead of giving her that exasperated roll of his eyes that she had really come to enjoy, instead he pleaded silently with her to not play the game. He was obviously upset about it.

"About what I did back there, in the hospital wing," he said quietly, as if he didn't want the words to echo in the empty corridor. "It was wrong of me, it was inappropriate, it was--"

Alice quickly stepped forward, placing her finger to his lips, half wanting to kiss him again. "It was nice," she said. "Don't apologize."

His mouth opened and closed a few times without any words coming out; she almost wanted to laugh. Instead she held it back and simply nodded. "We can talk about it later. Right now we have a job to do."

"Right." He swallowed as he rubbed at his eyes. "Our job. Save Robertson. Let's go."

He started back down the corridor, but she reached out for his arm. "Frank, about John…"

"Look, I know he's your friend," Frank said, rubbing nervously at his hair. "But if he was Imperiused--"

"--then it wasn't his fault," she said, imploring him to understand. "He's had a rough time lately. Just…go easy on him, if you can."

He nodded, eyes bright as he glanced down at her hand on his arm. "I'll try."

"And be careful, whatever happens," she added, dropping it and stepping away even though she wanted to step closer. "Or I might have to do the same thing you did back there."

He glanced sideways at her, but she saw the small smile on his face before they caught up to Professor Dumbledore. Something had shifted between them. She wasn't sure what or where it would go, but she knew their relationship would never be the same.

* * *

Chapter Eight

They arrived at the Ministry using the Floo in Professor Dumbledore's office and quickly made their way to Level Two. As they walked, Frank grew more and more anxious: maybe he was imagining it, but it felt like something was already wrong at the Ministry. He dreaded being too late to stop it.

They practically burst into the Auror department only to stop short in their tracks. At any given point, half the Aurors were out on assignment, but now it appeared completely empty. Glancing around, Frank finally noticed several people standing around the Head Auror's office in the back. And then he knew for sure that they were too late.

"What has happened?" demanded Professor Dumbledore as they hurried up to the small group, who were murmuring amongst themselves.

"Robertson collapsed," replied Kingsley Shacklebolt, sounding bleak. "He was taken to St. Mungo's half an hour ago."

"Head Auror Robertson is dead," said a voice behind them. There was a gasp as they all turned to find Alastor Moody standing there, a grim look on his face. "He died twenty minutes ago. Get back to work, everyone, because I want to know exactly how this could happen."

Moody turned to where they stood with Dumbledore. "I'm assuming that's why you're here, so I'll start with you." He led the way into Robertson's office, which seemed slightly morbid, but they followed him and stood stiffly behind Dumbledore; Frank felt like they were out of place.

"I'd say he was poisoned, Albus," said Moody as soon as the door had shut behind them. "Kingsley said that Robertson just seized up without any warning. His eyes rolled back and he collapsed, stiff as a board. The Healers said his heart probably gave out."

"It doesn't sound like a heart attack," said Dumbledore, frowning.

"No, it doesn't. He actually broke his arm, he was so tense. What do you think? And why did you show up at just the right time?"

Dumbledore glanced at Frank and Alice before bringing Moody up to date on everything that had happened in Hogsmeade, as well as the conclusions they had come to at Hogwarts. Moody listened closely, arms crossed tightly over his chest, head down as if he was thinking hard.

"Lunar belladonna?" he asked. "I haven't seen that in years. It fits, though."

"And Walcott MacNair could have procured and produced it," said Dumbledore. "He is also entirely capable of brewing such a potion."

"Of course he is," said Moody with a snort. "People still talk about some of the things he brewed, three decades later. The question is, how did he get it to Robertson if Longbottom here lost the envelope?"

Frank glanced at Alice, but she was looking down and wouldn't meet his eyes. He hoped she was all right: between being hit in Hogsmeade and the accusations against Dawlish, she looked pale and upset. He certainly was, and he was supposed to be the experienced one.

"We suspect that someone in the Ministry took it from the lab," said Dumbledore. "And seeing as it has now been used against Head Auror Robertson, there is a strong possibility that it was someone within the Auror office who knew about the envelope."

Alice's head whipped up. "No!" she said. "It wasn't him. He wouldn't do it something like this."

"Who?" snapped Moody. "Let's hear it."

Dumbledore inclined his head, and Frank stepped forward to spare Alice having to say anything. "John Dawlish knew about the envelope I'd taken, sir. He was here the day I brought it in and has met with Robertson several times over the last month. He's been a bit…off since the attack on Lupin."

Moody narrowed his eyes as if trying to determine the worth of Frank's words. Frank wished he hadn't had to say anything and could feel Alice glaring at him. He felt awful: he knew she was friends with Dawlish, how could he do that to her? To John? And yet, it was possible: Dawlish had been alone outside Lupin's house when he had been attacked, so he could have been Imperiused…

"Wait here," said Moody, and he stomped out the door. Frank could sense his partner's fear and anger and actually stepped away, feeling wretched. Between this and kissing her, he was quite sure it was over: she'd never want to work with him, let alone see him again, in spite of what she had said in the corridor before they had left Hogwarts. He had thought he had lost her in Hogsmeade; he was almost certain he had lost her now, though in a very different way.

"Ms. Hamilton," said Dumbledore softly. "If your friend is indeed involved, I am sure there will be an explanation. I remember John Dawlish as a strong, reliable student. He would never do such a thing under his own accord."

She nodded stiffly, but had no time to reply as Moody returned quickly, pushing Dawlish in front of him.

"If it was him, he's a damn fool for sticking around the scene of the crime," Moody growled. He almost threw Dawlish into a chair.

"What crime?" asked Dawlish, looking tired and confused. Frank felt bad for the man, he really did. Dawlish had had a rough time as an Auror, from his first year of training to his first year of duty, and now he was about to be accused of murder.

"Head Auror Robertson was poisoned," Moody began bluntly. "Know anything about it?"

John blanched and twitched his head. Frank exchanged a look with Dumbledore: the man could be fighting an Imperius Curse, or he could be trying to hide something on his own. Either way, he did not look good at all as he ran a nervous hand through his hair.

"Speak up, Dawlish," Moody snapped. "You’re a suspect in this investigation, and staying quiet won't help you."

"Suspect?" John said, eyes wide as he glanced at each of them in turn. "Why am I a suspect?"

Moody motioned to Frank, who held back a sigh as he stepped forward. He didn't want to be the one to do this. Alice was still pointedly ignoring him, and even though he knew it was his job as the senior partner, he didn't want to upset her any more. He decided to approach the situation differently than he normally would, though a small part of him doubted whether it was right. He had to, though, for her--for all of them.

"I brought in an envelope the day after John Lupin was killed," he started, pulling up a chair and sitting in front of Dawlish with his elbows on his knees. "You're one of the few people who knew about it--Alice told you that night in St. Mungo's. Do you remember?"

Dawlish stared at him. "Do I remember Lupin or the envelope? Of course I remember Lupin…" He trailed off, his eyes haunted.

Frank nodded sympathetically. He was glad that Gawain wasn't there breathing down his neck; Moody was bad enough. "Do you remember the envelope? Or Alice telling you about it?"

"I remember her mentioning some evidence, yes," Dawlish replied slowly, as if he were struggling to recall it clearly. "But I didn't take it, if that's what you're thinking."

"I brought it to the Potions lab," Frank continued, still keeping his voice calm and level. "The next day it was gone, and they didn't even remember me bringing it in. You were here that day."

"And you think I took it just because I knew about it and was in the office at the time?" Dawlish shook his head, still confused. Frank was glad the man wasn't getting defensive, because that would just make it harder to question him in front of Alice. On the other hand, it seemed odd that Dawlish wasn't more upset. He was just confused…which made it more likely he had been Imperiused, if he was responsible at all.

"We think it's possible," Frank said softly, wishing the others would just disappear. He could almost feel Moody's disapproval at his easygoing technique; normally he would grind a suspect down much harder. Yet this was a fellow Auror, someone Alice cared about…so he went with his instincts, telling him to keep going the way he was and not push too hard.

"But anyone in the Potions lab could have taken it," Dawlish protested. He rubbed at his eyes. "I was so out of it after the hit on Lupin, I could barely get up in the morning and get here, let alone steal something under Ministry eyes and Obliviate anyone involved."

Frank glanced up sharply at Alice at the mention of a Memory Charm. She bit her lip and finally met his eyes with a sad nod. He felt even worse now--for both of them. Moody, however, was not known for such sentiments.

"Get on with it, Longbottom," he ordered.

"John," Frank said. "What do you remember about the night Lupin was killed? When you were attacked outside?"

"I don't remember much," he replied. "I was Stunned and hit my head on a rock. When I went back in, I found Gawain with Lupin."

"But did anything happen before that?" Frank pressed. "Did you see anything, feel anything, talk to anyone?"

Dawlish stared at him, and as the realization began to sink in, he shook his head, once again with that strange twitch Frank had seen earlier. "You think I was Imperiused," he stated flatly. "To steal the powder. To poison Robertson."

Alice sucked in a breath behind him; next to him, Frank could see Moody nodding as if casting judgment already. "How'd you know it was a powder, John?" Alice asked, coming to stand on the other side of Frank. "I didn't tell you that, because I didn't even know it at the time."

"You said it was powder, just now," John stuttered, but it was clear he was confused, because he was shaking his head, his hands working nervously. "You must have."

"You've been compromised," Moody growled.

"No!" John exclaimed, jumping up. "I wasn't Imperiused. I can't have been…I passed that in training…" He trailed off, looking from one face to another. "Oh no…no..."

Frank sighed, dropping his head as an empty silence filled the room.

"There is one way to know," said Professor Dumbledore, sounding both understanding but firm. "Your conscious mind may not remember your actions under the curse, but a dose of Veritaserum would allow your unconscious mind to speak more freely."

Frank glanced at him in surprise; even more startling, Alice was nodding her head in agreement. John looked at her askance.

"You really think I could have done this?" he asked her. "But I don't remember anything, nothing…how could I have done something I don't remember?"

"You were hurt," she said gently. "That night, outside of Lupin's. If they cast the curse while you were down, you would have had no way to resist. It's not your fault, John." "Should I take the potion?" he whispered, and Frank felt his gut twist at having to do such a thing to a fellow Auror. No amount of training had prepared him for that; he had only used it once on a prisoner.

"Yes, John," said Alice. "You should. Clear this up. Help us find who's really responsible. Who killed Robertson."

"Who's really responsible…" Dawlish murmured. He blew out a long breath and sat back down, his voice flat but resolved. "Fine. Do it."

Frank started toward the door to get the required potion, which was kept under lock and key with Requisitions at all times. Moody stopped him. "I've got some already, Longbottom. You just keep on him, you're doing a good job."

Frank glanced between Moody and Dumbledore, seriously doubting the truth of those words. Yet when Alice gave him a tiny nod and a small but supportive smile, he turned back and took the vial from Moody.

John Dawlish met his eyes without flinching and without accusation; Frank admired the man for that. He considered offering John the vial, to take it himself, but with Moody watching, he knew he couldn't risk it. So he reluctantly but resolutely took his colleague’s chin and poured in three drops himself, then waited for it to take effect.

"What is your name?" Frank began.

"John Alan Dawlish."

"Where do you work?"

"The Ministry of Magic, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Auror Office, cubicle six."

"And who is your partner?"

"Gawain Robards."

Three questions to establish truth. Frank swallowed, put the others in the office from his mind, and continued.

"Did you steal an envelope from the Potions lab on Monday, June 22nd?"

"Yes."

"What did it contain?"

"A single vial of Moonbane potion."

"Did you use this potion to poison Head Auror Robertson?" "Yes."

He could hear Alice gasp behind him and felt his gut twist again at having to do this to them both. It suddenly occurred to him that part of this was his fault: he had taken the envelope, bringing it to the Ministry for Dawlish to steal and use on Robertson. In some ways, he was just as guilty as Dawlish. He tried to focus on his suspect rather than his own conflicting feelings. "Why?"

John stared at him blankly. "I was ordered to do so."

"By whom?"

John hesitated. He twitched, as if trying to remember. "I don't know," he replied, and he sounded unsettled. "I had never seen her before."

"What did she look like?" Frank asked.

"She was short. She had long dark hair. An exotic face. A scar above her eye."

Moody snorted. "Elena Rosier. I gave her that, and her brother a matching one."

"When did she tell you to steal the envelope?"

"The night I was in St. Mungo's," Dawlish replied. "She came to me while I was asleep. She told me she was a Healer and was checking my injury."

"What else did she say?"

"She told me to get the envelope back from the Auror who stole it. There was an important vial in it she needed." John appeared in a trance, still twitching every so often, as the Verisaterum fought against the curse within him.

"Did she tell you what it was for?" Frank asked. "Or what to do with it?" Dawlish may have stolen the powder under the Imperius Curse, but if he had used it on his own, his case was lost.

"It was supposed to go to Borman Wilkes, but then an Auror took it. When I brought it to her, she was pleased at how much there was. She gave me half and told me I should give it to Head Auror Robertson. Four doses, one each week. She said he would be dead by the full moon."

"Which is tonight," Alice murmured. "And he's dead."

"Did she say what she was using the rest for?" interrupted Moody, stepping forward. John glanced up at him and shook his head.

"No," he replied. "She told me to take care of my business only. She had another target in mind."

"Who?" snapped Moody. "And what were they planning with the Head Auror out of the way?"

John's head twitched once more. "I don't know," he said. "She didn't tell me. Please, I don't know anything else. It hurts."

Frank gave Dumbledore an almost desperate look: either John was resisting the potion easier than the Imperius Curse, or the Veritaserum was wearing off as it came into conflict with the curse. Dumbledore nodded. "I think we have enough from him, Alastor. We can figure the rest out on our own."

Moody snorted and turned away. Dumbledore motioned to Frank to finish. Frank took a deep breath.

"John, is there anything else you can tell us, anything at all?" he asked softly, leaning toward him to reestablish trust and offer sympathy. "Something that will help us find the other victim?"

John shook his head. The clear look in his eyes told Frank the Veritaserum had worn off, and John's tone of voice all but confirmed it. "No, I don't know anything else. Frank, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for any of this to happen--you have to believe me."

Frank patted him on the knee. "I believe you, John. And it's not your fault. The Veritaserum has gone, but now you have to break the curse, if it isn't broken already as well. Do you remember how to do that?"

John nodded. "Yes."

"It'll be deep, because even with your training you didn't recognize it. That was probably the head injury." Frank swallowed; it was frightening to think that for all their training, they were still vulnerable. It also meant Elena Rosier was alarmingly good at putting people under the Imperius Curse.

"I still should have caught it, felt it," said John, hanging his head. "I've had headaches, but I just thought was from the attack."

Alice kneeled down in front of him. "No, it's not your fault," she said once more. "And you've helped us tremendously."

"I killed Robertson," he said, his voice so quiet they could hardly hear him. Frank felt his chest knot up with guilt: he had been the one to bring the potion into the office, forcing Dawlish to steal it back and setting in motion the plan that lead to Robertson's murder. And yet again he was flooded with relief that he and Alice had escaped the dire fate Dawlish and Robards had met that night at Lupin's, and it only intensified his guilt even more.

"The potion killed him," said Albus Dumbledore, standing behind them. "And you were ordered to use it through no fault of your own. You will not be held accountable."

"I'm still going to have to lock him up for a few days, Albus, " said Moody. "Until this blows over. Probably safer for him, too."

John glanced up, his face broken, and nodded sadly. Then he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and grew very still. Aurors were rigorously trained in the use of Unforgivables during their three years of training: how to recognize them, how to use them, how to block them. While there was no way stop a Killing Curse, there were ways to block the Cruciatus Curse and throw off an Imperius Curse. The latter required going into an almost meditative state to recognize the different thought patterns that signaled one wasn't completely controlling their own mind. And then it required a great strength of will to break the compulsion to obey that was magicked into their brain by the spell.

Frank watched John struggle with this. It must have been a masterful job, with the curse hidden beneath the effects of his head injury and several layers of guilt and grief over the attack on Lupin. It was no wonder Dawlish had struggled over the past month. Now he fought even more, breaking out in a sweat, his lips drawn into a tight line. His neck twisted at such an odd angle Frank thought it would snap, but finally John fell forward, pale and limp.

Alice reached out to catch him, and Frank could see the tears in her eyes. "Gone?" she asked.

John nodded, obviously exhausted. "I don't know if I ever would have really recognized it, if you hadn't figured it out. Thank you." He stood unsteadily and shook Frank's hand. "I'm sorry you had to do that, Longbottom."

Frank took it, also feeling somewhat shaky. "Not quite Gobstones, that's for sure," he said, hoping to diffuse the tension. Alice gave him a funny look, but Dawlish nodded with a small smile.

"You can beat me at Gobstones anytime if I never have to go through that again." He turned to Moody. "I'm sorry, sir. I'm ready now."

Moody appeared slightly taken aback at the young Auror's strength and resolve. He nodded gruffly and motioned toward the door. "I won't bind you, Dawlish, but I've got to bring you in. Just a formality, you know. You'll likely be cleared in a day or two. We all witnessed it."

"I understand," replied Dawlish sadly. "I wish I could help with whatever else is going on, but I think I've caused enough trouble."

Alice stood and threw her arms around him; Frank couldn't help but look away, for too many reasons, most of them confusing. "You'll be fine now. I'll check in on you."

Dawlish returned her embrace before heading out the door with Moody. Dumbledore turned to where Frank stood with Alice, watching the two Aurors leave.

"You have both done well," said Dumbledore. "I must go, however. I need to speak with Barty Crouch and the Minister about what has happened."

Frank nodded numbly. The last few hours were suddenly starting to catch up to him: the attack, the hospital wing, Robertson's death, Dawlish's questioning. Instead of collapsing in a chair, he found himself beginning to pace, his mind racing as he felt the beginning of a raging headache. Alice answered for them.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Professor Dumbledore nodded and headed toward the door. He paused and placed his hand on Frank's shoulder, stopping him before he turned to continue pacing the small office.

"You should sit and relax for a few moments, Frank," he said. "It is not over yet. There is more going on here than what we have uncovered so far."

Frank nodded. "I know."

Dumbledore glanced at Alice and lowered his voice. "I suspect you may wish to discuss what has happened with your partner. You work far too well together to let anything get in the way of your relationship."

He turned and left the office, shutting the door behind him, and Frank watched him go, wondering what his former headmaster was referring to. His working relationship with Alice would certainly change after what had happened in the hospital wing, yet his personal relationship with her seemed doomed after what he had just done to John Dawlish.

Frank let his head fall against his chest before he began pacing once more. Only one thing was certain: it wasn't over yet.

* * *

Chapter Nine

Alice watched them leave, unable to believe what had just happened. John Dawlish, her friend through three years of Auror training, Imperiused? A murderer? She couldn't even begin to imagine his guilt and grief. How would he ever recover? How would the department recover?

Frank was also staring at the open door, before he strode over and slammed it shut. He paced around the room, running a hand through his hair, still in disarray from the fight in Hogsmeade only hours earlier. Alice had never seen him so rattled, and she wasn't sure whether to be scared, worried, or angry at him for the unexpected reaction.

"It's not his fault," she started, but he immediately waved her off.

"I know that."

She watched him continue to pace for a moment. "And you did what you had to do," she said. This time he stopped and gave her a skeptical look. "No really--thank you for being the one to question him. Moody would have driven him into the ground."

"And I was easy on him?" Frank laughed bitterly when she nodded somewhat helplessly at his bleak response. "But he was Imperiused. He didn't know what he was doing. I did."

Alice frowned, her heart skipping a beat as she wondered what he was talking about. Had she missed something during the interrogation? He wasn't thinking about the hospital wing, was he? "What do you mean?"

"It's my fault," he stated flatly, not meeting her eyes as he started to pace again. "It's my fault Dawlish is in this mess."

"Frank, it's not your fault. Stop acting like--"

"--like it is?" he snapped at her. "Well, I can't. Don't you see? Dawlish is under arrest and Robertson is dead because of me!"

"How do you figure that?" she demanded. "Did you poison Robertson? No. Did you curse John? No. He was Imperiused by a Death Eater, and he was the one who--"

"--stole the envelope with the poison," Frank interrupted again. "Which I took from Wilkes in Godric's Hollow. If I hadn't brought it in as evidence, it wouldn't have been here for him to steal."

"And I'm the one who told him about it, so that must make it my fault too!" she snapped back. "Only it's not, because you don't know if he would have ended up with it anyway. Maybe Wilkes was supposed to deliver to him."

"You heard him!" Frank exclaimed, waving his arms around. "It wasn't meant for Robertson. They just took advantage of the opportunity that I gave them by bringing it in. It's my fault," he repeated. "None of this would have happened if I hadn't taken that damn envelope."

"Stop it," Alice told him, standing and forcing him to stop pacing around the room. She was losing patience. "It is not your fault that you brought in the evidence we needed, just like it's not my fault that I trusted a fellow Auror with information about it, just like it's not John's fault he was Imperiused to steal it. And you helped figure out what was really going on."

"It was too late," Fank replied bitterly. "Robertson's dead, just like Barden Bagshot."

"Is that what this is about? What happened in Hogsmeade?" She crossed her arms over her chest and waited for him to answer.

He gave her that long look he had when he was thinking, then abruptly turned and walked away, his back to her as he faced the wall. "No."

She noticed the tense set of his shoulders, the fists clenched at his sides. He might be upset about Dawlish and he might feel guilty about the envelope, but that wouldn't set him off. She knew him well enough to recognize that much. Which meant he was upset about Hogsmeade, even if he wasn't admitting it.

She walked up to him, standing close but not touching, trying not to upset him any further when all she wanted to do was support him. "It's not your fault Barden Bagshot was killed," she said. "There was nothing we could do, it happened so fast."

If it was possible, he grew even more tense. "I know that," he replied, but his voice was tight. "I've lost people before."

"Then what's wrong?" she asked softly. She touched him on the arm and felt him jerk back. He hung his head before finally turning around, and she stepped back from the stark look of emotion playing across his face.

"Everything," he replied, then shrugged it off before meeting her eye. "What about you? Are you all right? You were hit pretty hard in Hogsmeade, and it's been rough in here."

She shook her head, confused. "I told you, I'm fine. Whatever it was, Madam Pomfrey took care of it. I'm still sore, but no worse off than you."

His right hand came up, as if he were reaching for her face, but he didn't touch her: he let it drop instead and blew out his breath in one, long sigh. "Thank Merlin."

"Frank, what is it?" she asked softly, moving closer; he shook his head as he stepped back, further away from her until he was against the wall.

"I thought for a moment I might have lost you back there, in Hogsmeade," he murmured, looking away. "And between what happened in the hospital wing and in here, you must be...well, I'd certainly understand if you hated me now."

Alice stepped closer and raised her hand toward his face, hesitant fingers tracing the small scratches on his cheek and chin. He closed his eyes with another sigh and turned his head away.

"I could never hate you," she murmured, pulling him back. "I care about you too much." His eyes snapped open, and he gazed down at her with that look again, a look that made her stomach flip and her heart race at the same time. Yet he still seemed so sad; why did he look so sad?

"Alice," he said, his voice hoarse, his hands clenched at his sides. "I'm sorry, but--"

She stopped him with a finger to his lips again, a small shock rippling through her at the touch of his warm skin, even on her hand. "Stop apologizing."

"I have to," he whispered, letting his head fall back against the wall as he gazed up at the ceiling. "We're partners, we're not supposed to feel this, to do this."

She tilted her head slightly and smiled up at him. "Do what?" she asked, though she could barely form the words. She was close enough to feel his heart beating, to see the desire in his eyes as he gazed down at her once more. She felt it too: why should they deny it any longer?

She licked her lips; he shook his head. She took a step forward; he turned his head away. She closed the distance between them and reached for his face, closing her eyes until she felt warm lips brush against hers, slowly at first, hesitantly‚ until with a gasp his hands were around her waist, pulling her toward him, and she wrapped her hands around his neck. They surrendered to the rush of passion that swept them together, so unexpectedly and so completely, and so, so right.

Until the door flew open, and they sprang apart, the moment lost.

"Heads up, Longbottom, Hamilton," snapped Moody. "Untangle your tongues. We've got work to do."

"Yes sir," Frank muttered, his face flaming. Alice had rarely seen him blush, and it was just about the most endearing thing she had ever seen. She almost wanted to snog him all over again, right there in front of Moody. Instead she gave him a small smile when he finally glanced sideways and met her eyes. He returned it and took a deep breath.

"What's the plan, sir?" he asked. Moody crossed his arms over his chest and glared at them both.

"I don't know what's going on between you two, but forget about it for now, understand? We'll figure it out later." Alice nodded and composed herself, setting aside both her embarrassment and her longing for more, as Moody continued. "Now, why Robertson? And why now?"

"He's the Head Auror," said Frank without hesitating. "He's a natural target."

"Right," replied Moody. "But something doesn't feel right. It could be a diversion, which means we need to figure out the real endgame, not to mention the second target."

"Killing the head of the Auror office hardly seems like a simple diversion," Frank protested. "It's a heavy blow to the department."

"Yes, it is," Moody agreed. "But it's a blow meant to distract us from something else."

"How do you know that?" asked Alice, finding her voice. As plausible as it sounded, there didn't seem to be any proof.

"I don't. But Robertson wasn't the only target, and Dumbledore's got a hunch there's more to this than we think. His hunches are usually right." Moody studied them with his magical eye. "So figure it out. Like you did at Hogwarts."

"What?" she asked. "Why us?"

"Because you're in the thick of it, that's why. Because you're good even if you feel like shit right now about Dawlish. Now, let's pull this together."

Alice tried to sort it out. She started from the beginning, trying to put together a dozen different pieces of a puzzle that was just growing more and more complicated by the hour. The goblins, the werewolves, the giants, even a dragon: all factions Voldemort could use in his fight. Yet what did an obscure poison and a dead Head Auror have to do with it? Even as a distraction? And who could possibly be the other target?

"I think I know," Frank said suddenly, turning around, his eyes bright. "It fits. Everything we've been looking into recently points to You-Know-Who growing his forces, right?"

"Goblins, werewolves, giants, even dragons," said Alice. "But what does that have to do with Robertson? All that other stuff is under the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures." Moody was silent, simply motioning him impatiently to continue.

"Well, we've had hints of other things going on," said Frank, warming up. His earlier anger and reluctance appeared lost to the thrill of discovery. "The suspicious activity in Hyde Park, the requiem whispers, now Robertson's murder. I think You-Know-Who has been running a double offensive. He's building his forces for a bigger attack, and taking out Robertson leaves the Auror office unprepared for it."

"An attack on what? And he can't possibly be ready," protested Alice. "It's only been weeks since all this started!"

"No, he's ready for a something big," said Moody, nodding in agreement. "He's got the werewolves, he's got a dragon, and he's closing in on the giants. What do you think he wants them for?"

"A Muggle target," replied Frank. He shook his head, as if his brain were racing to put it together in some semblance of order. "He's been hitting the wizarding community quick and hard recently. It'll be Muggles next. Something big, like you said. Something he can use those forces for, because we can handle them, but Muggles can't." He paused and stared at the floor. "What's the date?" he asked abruptly.

"The 20th. Why?" asked Moody.

"That can't be it," Frank murmured, shaking his head once more.

"What?" demanded Moody. "Out with it Longbottom, even if it's mad."

"The Proms concerts start tomorrow," Frank replied, turning around with a grim look on his face. "In London‚ near Hyde Park."

"And why would Voldemort attack a Muggle concert?" asked Alice.

"Because they're doing a requiem mass," Frank said. "A mass for the dead."

Alice stared at him. "How do you know that?" she asked.

Frank shrugged. "My grandparents used to go. They took me once. I saw it in the Muggle papers this past week while reading through them for suspicious activity. That's it, I'm sure--it all fits. They've got the forces, they've been scoping out the area, and we've heard too many whispers of the word requiem for it to be anything else."

"How many people usually attend?" asked Alice, dreading the answer.

"Several thousand," said Moody, narrowing his eyes at Frank.

"That's a lot of Muggles in one place," Frank said quietly, his blue eyes intense, as if willing the old Auror to believe him. "A place we know they've been looking at."

"And he would need a lot of firepower for a target like that," added Moody. "Right. Let's go. We need to get you to Headquarters."

"Wait, what?" asked Frank. "We need to tell ... Well, whoever is in charge now..." He trailed off, because with Robertson dead, who was in charge?

"That would be me, at least until the Minister appoints someone else because I sure as hell don't want the job permanently," snapped Moody. "So I'm telling you to get to Order headquarters while I clean up things around here."

"What do you mean, Order headquarters?" asked Alice, exchanging a confused glance with Frank.

Moody grinned. "It's our flat in Diagon Alley. You know Gideon Prewett?" She nodded, for Gideon Prewett had only been a few years older than her at Hogwarts. She remembered playing Quidditch with his younger brother Fabian; most of the girls in her year had had a crush on one or both of them at some point.

"Good," Moody was saying. "He should be there on duty. I want you to bring him up to date on what's going on and have him start gathering the troops. I'll send Dumbledore as soon as he's done here. I assume he went to bend the Minister's ear?"

"Yes, sir," said Frank as Moody started toward the door. "Then what? What about things here? We can't just leave, there's too much to do."

"I'm in charge here, Longbottom," Moody said. "And I'm releasing you for the rest of the night. I've got to contact Robertson's family and keep things from falling apart while getting ready for tomorrow. Have Gideon show you how to cast a Patronus while you wait for Dumbledore."

Frank frowned. "We already know how to do that, sir." He stopped, and Alice finished for him.

"We learned it in training," she added. Moody shook his head.

"Not like this, you didn't. Gideon can show you how to make 'em talk."

Alice exchanged another look with Frank. Moody did not miss it. He turned back to them, arms crossed over his chest with a frown.

"Look, I don't know what's going on between you two, but work it out quick. We need you on this, no distractions."

"We, sir?" asked Frank. Alice had a very strange feeling she knew exactly what Moody was about to say. The cantankerous old Auror grinned at them.

"Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix, Longbottom."

* * *

Chapter Ten

The flat that housed the Order of the Phoenix was exactly that and nothing more: a plain, nondescript building just around the corner from Diagon Alley on a plain, nondescript Muggle street. Because it was Unplottable, Moody had given them the exact location, as well as the password for entrance; there was a good deal of security on the flat that housed the fledging resistance to Voldemort's increasing rebellion.

Gideon Prewett let them in, though he did not appear surprised to see them, which meant Moody must have sent word ahead. Gideon was tall and broad, taller than Frank, with dark auburn hair that he wore long but pulled back. It highlighted a fresh cut along the side of his cheek that Frank couldn't help but stare at when he shook hands with the man as they entered. Gideon ran a finger over his injury.

"Death Eater up in Newcastle," he grinned, then eyed the cuts and bruises on Frank's face as well. "Yours too?"

"Hogsmeade," said Frank, nodding grimly as he glanced around, trying to assess his surroundings. It seemed much brighter than the twilight evening he'd just left, and there was an odd ringing in his ears that he couldn't place: was it actually in his head, or some sort of spell? Maybe it was just the grinding headache that had started back at the Ministry.

Gideon shook hands with Alice and led them into the flat. It consisted of one large open room, much bigger than it appeared on the outside. Frank assumed that there was magic at work, as the entire Order of the Phoenix could hardly fit into a tiny one bedroom flat in the heart of London. There was a kitchen that opened off from the main room, as well as a bath and what appeared to be a bedroom down a short hallway.

A second ginger-haired man was sitting at a dining table just outside the kitchen from eating a large plate of food. Frank's stomach rumbled loudly; he hadn't eaten since that morning, and the smell of whatever was on the table was suddenly overwhelming. Gideon gave him another grin.

"That's Fabian, my brother. You two hungry, then?"

Frank nodded absently, glancing sideways at Alice. She was also looking at the table, but not at the food. She was staring at Fabian Prewett, who finally glanced up and grinned. "Alice Hamilton!" he exclaimed, coming around the table, and to Frank's surprise, embracing her. She hugged him in return, obviously pleased to see him, and Frank felt his stomach drop at the unexpectedly warm response. "It's about time you showed up here."

Frank knew he was gaping. "You know each other?"

Fabian turned and stretched out his hand. "We were only a few years apart at Hogwarts. Alice and I played Quidditch for two years together. I remember you, too. How's it going, Frank?"

Frank shook Fabian's hand, trying to calm his muddled thoughts. "Fine," he mumbled. Beside him, he could feel Alice watching him strangely and took a deep breath to shake off the feeling of unreality that had settled around his shoulders. "Been a long day, though."

Fabian nodded in understanding as he headed into the kitchen. "I'll get you something to eat, then. We had a message from Moody to expect you," he called from the other room. "He said you'd tell us what's going on."

"I can't believe the Head Auror's been murdered," Gideon said, sitting down at the table and motioning them to join him. "What happened?"

"Poison," Alice answered for them both. Frank sat down with a sigh and stopped himself from letting his head fall into his hands. He was exhausted, far more exhausted than he had a right to be. Yes, he'd taken a bad hit in Hogsmeade after watching a man get killed before his eyes. Yes, he'd feared the worst for his partner and probably messed up any chance at a normal relationship with her by kissing her not just once, but twice now. And yes, he'd had to question a fellow Auror with Veritaserum, a good man who had been Imperiused to kill the Head Auror with the envelope Frank had brought to the Ministry full of …

"Poison," he repeated numbly. He felt faint. He felt light-headed. He felt ridiculous. Yet he suddenly had to get out of there and get some fresh air as his thoughts began to spiral toward unexpected panic. He jumped up and walked out as fast as he could from the flat, rushing back toward the cool air of a beautiful summer night. He could vaguely hear Alice calling after him, but his ears were ringing too much to understand what she was saying. He burst through the door onto the pavement and put his hands on his knees, letting his head hang down, certain he was going to vomit.

No, he was fine. He hadn't come so far to fall apart now. There was too much to do, too much going on for him to panic. Taking a deep breath, he stood. The world spun around him, but he clung to it fiercely, determined to stand upright and head back into the flat. He was probably just hungry and dehydrated after all that had happened.

But then Alice was there next to him, and her lips were moving, but he couldn't hear her. The look on her face grew alarmed, until it scared him as well, and he finally turned around and wretched into a nearby privet bush.

He vaguely heard the crack of Apparition before he was aware of a gentle hand on his back, helping him stand straight. A pair of sharp green eyes were gazing into his own, a frown underneath. "Frank Longbottom?" asked a female voice he could hear and understand with only a slight buzzing in his ears. He nodded vaguely, trying to focus. "Help him inside," said the voice.

He felt a warm hand take his and somehow knew it was Alice and not the other woman. The green-eyed witch guided them back into the flat and helped him sit in a nearby chintz chair. Frank laid his head back as Gideon gave him a sympathetic look.

"I think your day was far worse than ours."

"Of course it was," snapped the green-eyed witch. "He's got a concussion, you prat. You've got a nick I could have magicked away this morning if you didn't want to impress Dorcas with it."

Frank couldn't help but snort as Gideon scratched idly at his neck. "Fine. You can fix it later. Get Longbottom his color back first."

"I'm sorry," Frank muttered, hoping his voice was clear. "Who are you again?"

The green-eyed witch smiled. "I'm Lily Evans. I was in Gryffindor a few years behind you."

He nodded, although it hurt to move his head so he stopped. "Right. With Potter and the others." He frowned. "But you just left Hogwarts. You're in the Order now?"

"I am," she said, smiling gently at him. "I'm also training at St. Mungo's. And one of the first things I learned was how to spot a concussion. Did you have a blow to the head recently?"

"Yes," said Alice, and he was aware of her steady presence next to him once more. He could feel her worry and concern. "We had a duel with four Death Eaters in Hogsmeade this morning. They blasted apart the pavement beneath him in order to get away, and he was thrown backward with it."

Gideon whistled, earning an exasperated look from Lily. "What? That's way worse than our little scuffle."

"Right," she said, standing up. "You need to go lie down, and I'll get you a draught to help. We're well stocked here."

Frank tried to protest as Alice began to help him up. "No, there's too much going on. Robertson's been murdered, and there's going to be a major attack tomorrow that we have to get ready for."

Lily froze halfway to the kitchen. "Joseph Robertson has been killed?" she asked, sounding surprised; obviously not everyone knew about it yet. "What happened?"

"He was just about to tell us when he ran out to empty his stomach on the lawn," said Fabian, back at the table with a second plate of food. Lily rolled her eyes again as she continued into the kitchen.

"Give him a break, he has a concussion!" she called. "Go lie down, Frank, and then you can tell us what happened."

"Come on, Frank," murmured Alice, and she held him around the waist. He felt that familiar tingle from earlier--back in Robertson's office--and it was all he could do to stop himself from turning to her and snogging her senseless right there like some drunken fool. Instead, he let her guide him toward an old sofa in the corner and lay down as she tucked a pillow behind his head. Her hand gently brushed the hair from his face, lingering on his scratched cheek; he caught it as she straightened up.

"I'm sorry--" he started, once again ready to apologize for everything that had gone wrong that day. And once again she stopped him, this time wide-eyed with exasperation.

"Merlin's beard, Longbottom!" she swore. "Stop apologizing already!" She leaned down to kiss his forehead, and he wished he could lie there forever with her, until a cough behind them signaled Lily Evan's presence. He struggled to sit up as she held out a goblet for him.

"This should help," said Lily. "Although I'm surprised you haven't had one already." She was obviously both curious and concerned and searching for information about his condition. Alice frowned as he drank the heady concoction.

"Didn't Madam Pomfrey give you one?" she asked. "In the hospital wing?"

Frank shook his head as he handed the goblet back. "No, I told her I was all right. You were the one who was still unconscious."

Alice stared at him. "So she didn't look at you at all?"

"I was fine," Frank insisted. "It was you we were more concerned about." It had taken a bit of effort, but he had actually managed to convince Madam Pomfrey that he was uninjured aside from his cuts and scrapes; apparently it was catching up with him now.

Lily exchanged a glance with Alice. "I don't know how you got out of that. Pomfrey hovers over everyone."

"What can I say?" Frank shrugged. "I charmed her out of it?"

"I'd like to learn how to do that," came a voice from doorway. "She never let up on us."

Frank looked up and recognized James Potter and Sirius Black. So they had joined as well. Closing his eyes, he wondered if Remus Lupin and the other boy had joined, and how large the Order of the Phoenix really was.

"Just walk in with someone more injured than you," Frank murmured. "And keep acting like you're perfectly fine."

"You're obviously a good actor, then, considering what you look like now," James said, and Frank heard him walking over. He opened his eyes and caught Lily batting James on the arm. He gave the younger man a crooked grin.

"This is just intermission," he said, and beside them Sirius Black let out a laugh.

"Frank Longbottom, I don't remember you ever cracking a joke in Gryffindor," he said. "You must have been hit hard."

Frank heard Alice laugh to herself and couldn't help but smile as well. He already felt comfortable with these people, and he knew almost nothing about them other than what he remembered from school and that they had all chosen to fight against Voldemort. The potion Lily had given him worked quickly: the ringing in his ears died out and his headache began to subside. He sat up again, and Alice squeezed his hand before letting it fall. He smiled gratefully at her.

"It's definitely been one of those days," he replied. "Moody sent us over to fill Gideon in on everything that's going on."

James frowned. "What's happened?"

"Head Auror Robertson was killed," said Lily.

"And there's some sort of attack going down tomorrow," added Fabian from the table, now finishing off his drink. "So start talking, Longbottom. Or just let Hamilton tell us what's going on."

Frank motioned at Alice, who took a deep breath and began. Yet as she was talking, more and more people began to drift in, until finally they had repeated themselves so many times it was becoming clear that they should simply wait for everyone to arrive.

"This is ridiculous," said Lily. "They've obviously been through a lot so why are we making them tell us about it over and over again?"

Alice gave her a grateful look. "Fabian was going to get us something to eat earlier. I think we could really use it about now." She glanced at Frank, still convalescing on the sofa. "Are you up for something?" she asked.

"Absolutely," he said, his stomach growling at the thought. He started to stand, but felt his blood pressure drop and fell back, dizzy and weak. "Er, can I have it over here?" he asked sheepishly.

She patted him on the leg. "Of course." Frank watched her stand and head toward the kitchen. Fabian Prewett followed her, and Frank couldn't help but frown. There seemed to be some sort of history there and it bothered him, however irrationally. Maybe it was the concussion.

"Tell me about the Order," he said to James Potter, who was talking nearby with Lily Evans. It was obvious that they were a couple from the way they sat together, and Frank envied their easygoing manner with one another. He wondered if his relationship with Alice had any chance of developing into something more, or if too much had happened between them for such a thing now.

James shrugged. "We're small, but growing. We're up to almost two dozen." He paused and raised his eyebrows. "Especially if that's why you're here."

Frank nodded slowly. "Yes, I think that's why we're here. Or, Moody thinks so, at least."

"He has a way of saying things, that's for sure," Sirius said, pulling up a chair next to them and straddling it. "Actually, that man scares the shit out of me."

"I believe his exact words were, 'Welcome to the Order, Longbottom’," Frank said and laughed. "I think we're in whether we want to or not."

"We could really use two good Aurors," said James, leaning forward. "You're already fighting Dark Magic. This would just be a bit of extra fun on the side."

"Without the brilliant pay of your hard-working Ministry job, of course," added Sirius, and they all laughed.

"No, I'm in," said Frank. "I don't know about Alice, but I've been talking to Moody about it for months, unofficially helping out, I guess. Now we’re just making it official." He pretended to gaze around the flat in admiration. "Nice place you've got here."

Sirius snorted. "They used to meet at the Hog's Head. Imagine that."

"I'd rather not, having been there." Frank laughed again, but at that moment Alice returned with two plates of food and the conversation stopped there as they tucked in. A few more people filtered in as they ate; some he recognized, some he did not. Remus Lupin arrived and joined their small circle, though Frank thought he looked rather peaky, as if he too were fighting off the effects of injury or illness. His friends hovered over him a bit, but he waved them off, finally wandering to the kitchen for a drink. A man James introduced as Peter Pettigrew joined them as well, just as quiet and unassuming as Frank remembered from Hogwarts.

Frank felt his strength return with each bite and was grateful that there hadn't been more people around to see him run out earlier. Between the food and the draught Lily had given him, he was almost starting to feel normal. Alice sat close to him, and he was glad for her steady, comforting presence as well, even if it still felt a bit confusing at times.

It had been at over an hour since they had arrived when a silver Patronus floated into the room. It was a ferret, and to Frank's utter shock, it spoke with Alastor Moody's voice.

"Dumbledore's on his way. Get Longbottom talking. Long night here. Might need my Aurors back. I'll follow when I can."

Frank just stared as the Patronus dissolved. No one else seemed surprised that it had spoken; then again, Moody had mentioned something about them talking. Gideon Prewett stood up and took charge. "Right. You heard him. Frank, if you're up to it now, we need to know what's going on and get started."

Beside him, Alice turned and gave him an equally stunned look. "He said we were off for the night. Why would he need us back?"

"Maybe someone else has been poisoned," Frank replied. He ran a hand through his hair as an even worse thought occurred. "Or else we were wrong and the attack is tonight."

"What attack?" asked Sirius.

"And who was poisoned?" asked Remus, wandering back to his chair.

"That would be Griffin Pokeby," said a voice at the door. Albus Dumbledore stood there, looking weary. "The Head of the Department of Magical Creatures."

There wasn't a shocked gasp so much as a sad sigh that went around the room. A few curses fell as well, including from Alice, who immediately reached out and took his hand. Frank squeezed it in understanding: they had failed. Yet again, they had been too late. Dumbledore seemed to sense their distress and turned toward them.

"However, thanks to the quick thinking of Mr. Longbottom and Ms. Hamilton, we were able to alert St. Mungo's to the likelihood that Mr. Pokeby had been poisoned, and he is currently receiving high doses of an antidote." He inclined his head, and Frank released a breath, relieved that perhaps they had got something right after all. So Pokeby had been the second target; now the question was why?

"In the meantime, I will bring you all up to date on what is happening. It is imperative that you listen carefully, as it appears Voldemort is beginning a major offensive."

Dumbledore began to tell the assembled Order members about the attack in Hogsmeade and how it lead them to discover the poison from Godric's Hollow. He informed them once again of Joseph Robertson's death, although he did not mention John Dawlish's name, only that an innocent man had been Imperiused to poison the Head Auror and had indicated under questioning that there had been a second target. Frank let his head fall as he remembered the awful scene in Robertson's office; Sirius Black gave him a curious look.

"Did you question him?" he asked quietly, and Frank nodded before glancing up at Dumbledore once more.

"When the Minister informed me that Head Pokeby had fallen ill not long after Head Auror Robertson, I immediately informed the Healers of the poison, whereupon they began treatment with the antidote." He paused and looked at them very gravely. "The poison used was Moonbane, which is made from the lunar belladonna plant. He is lucky to have survived this long, for the full moon is tonight. The antidote may not work, but we are hoping that there is still a chance for survival."

This time Frank swore, and Alice laid her head on his shoulder. He let his arm snake around her shoulder and held her and didn't really care who saw them or what they thought. He was pretty sure Sirius Black flashed James Potter a curious look, but Lily Evans gave Frank a smile, and somehow he knew it was all right.

Except for the fact that the head of the department that oversaw magical creatures was in grave condition at St. Mungo's, leaving another Ministry department in disarray. It occurred to Frank that if Robertson's death had been a distraction for an attack the following day, perhaps Pokeby's death was part of the plan as well.

Alice beat him to it, however. "Sir, we suspect Robertson's death was a distraction. Could this be the same?"

Dumbledore nodded grimly. "Given what Alastor has told me about tomorrow, I believe you are correct, Ms. Hamilton." He gave everyone a piercing stare. "Two high level employees of the Ministry of Magic have been attacked or killed today, leaving their departments without leaders. We suspect this is in preparation for an attack that will take place tomorrow night. Mr. Longbottom, would you fill them in on what you told Alastor Moody? I am afraid I was only able to speak with him briefly before he was called away."

Frank nodded as he took a breath and stood. He felt better, having had something to eat, a strong draught, and a bit of rest. He was ready to continue the fight.

"You've all probably heard the word requiem thrown about over the past few weeks," he began, and there were several nods around the room. "After today's events, we suspect these whispers are referring to an attack on the Proms tomorrow night." When a number of people looked at him in confusion, he explained. "It's the opening night of a very important Muggle concert series near Hyde Park, by Kensington Gardens. Alice and I have already investigated several reports of Death Eaters in the area. We suspect they were checking it out in preparation for tomorrow's attack."

"Why tomorrow?" asked an older man Frank didn't recognize.

"Because they are performing a requiem mass, a mass for the dead. It would be just like You-Know-Who to kill dozens of Muggles at such a concert."

The man shook his head. "Or it could be another diversion. We could run out to Hyde Park with wands drawn, but he hits Hogsmeade instead. How do you know?"

Frank glanced at Dumbledore, who simply motioned at him to continue. "It fits. Everything, even the poisonings. You-Know-Who--"

"Voldemort," said Dumbledore, and in spite of a shiver, Frank swallowed and continued.

"Voldemort is setting his pieces in place. We went down to Godric's Hollow to investigate strange lights and sounds. We intercepted several Death Eaters exchanging an envelope with a man whom we have now identified as a known potioneer, Walden MacNair. That envelope contained the Moonsbane that was used to poison Robertson and Pokeby."

"But what does that have to do with an attack on the Proms tomorrow?" asked Sirius, sounding skeptical, and beside him James Potter was nodding in agreement. Remus Lupin was watching thoughtfully, though, as if trying to pull it all together on his own.

"With Robertson dead, the Auror office is without a leader. Moody is in charge right now, but that pulls him away from the Order," Frank said. "It's the perfect time for an attack, with the change in leadership and low morale."

"There's more," said Remus, and Frank nodded appreciatively at him.

"We think so." He turned to Dumbledore. "With Pokeby in St. Mungo's, that department will be upset too, and Voldemort's already got some of those creatures on his side. He'll probably use them in the attack."

"Or he'll use them tonight," said Alice from the sofa. Frank glanced down in surprise. She stood next to him, strong and determined. "I don't think he'll use them in Hyde Park. He could send them out tonight to distract both departments from the real attack tomorrow."

There was silence around the room. It was too dire to imagine: with Ministry officials stretched thin containing an attack that night, the Muggles could be left wide open and defenseless the following day.

"We have to stop the concert," said Lily Evans, her voice tight. "If we know it's a target, we have to tell them to cancel…" She trailed off as the silence continued.

"That is not a decision for me to make, Ms. Evans," said Dumbledore, his voice heavy. "That is up to the Minister, though I will certainly try to convince him to contact the Muggle Prime Minister and urge such a thing. I do no think, however, that either man will truly consider canceling the opening night of such an important event."

"Why not?" demanded Sirius. "We've proof of it--"

"We have very little proof whatsoever," said Dumbledore. "Just a theory that some might consider sound and plausible, but others will dismiss as fancy until it is too late." He paused to rub at the bridge of his nose. "I must go back to the Ministry. I will speak to the Minister about contacting his Muggle counterpart and postponing the concert."

"What about us, sir?" asked Gideon. "What should we do?"

"If what Mr. Longbottom and Ms. Hamilton suspect is true--and I believe they could be right--you should all return home and rest." There were whispers around the room, and Dumbledore held up his hand. "Hear me out. If Voldemort plans to wear out the Ministry tonight, leaving the Proms undefended tomorrow, then we must wait him out and be ready for that second attack."

"And just let the world go to hell tonight?" asked Sirius, sounding angry. "We should be out there, fighting. It's what we do."

"The Ministry can handle it," said Frank, but Sirius snorted. "Dumbledore's right. If Voldemort's idea is to weaken a Ministry response to the attack tomorrow, then the Order needs to be rested and ready in its place. That way we can take him by surprise."

Sirius frowned at him. "And you'd let your fellow Aurors fight on their own after losing their leader?" Frank turned and stared at him. "They can handle it," he repeated stiffly. "They can't handle two nights of it, though."

"So where does that put you?" asked Sirius. "Are you going to go and fight tonight, or sit it out with us?"

"I already told Longbottom he's mine," growled Alastor Moody as he stomped into the room. "Both of them do as I say."

"That's good," said Lily. "Because Frank has a concussion."

Frank threw her a glare as he and Alice sat down. Moody just snorted.

"Then take a good nap because you're on for tomorrow." He turned to Dumbledore. "Sorry for interrupting again, but I've only got a few minutes. Pokeby didn't make it." Dumbledore nodded sadly, but Moody continued as if nothing had happened. "With the department left leaderless for the moment, Voldemort's decided to start throwing his monsters around for my angry Aurors to mop up with a bunch of tender-hearted creature keepers still crying their eyes out."

So Alice was right: the creatures were yet another distraction. Frank wasn't sure Pokeby's Department was quite that disorganized without him, but Dumbledore seemed to understand the issue at hand and nodded. "What has happened so far?"

"It's early, but we've sent a team up north, where that missing dragon is causing trouble, and I've sent half a dozen Aurors out to Bath, where there have been reports of giant activity. I might have to send more, but I'm holding some back in anticipation."

"Anticipation of what?" asked Gideon. Moody gave him a piercing look.

"It's the full moon, Prewett. There will be werewolves out tonight."

Nearby, Frank heard Remus Lupin inhale sharply. James put a hand on his friend's knee and whispered something to him. Was Remus upset about the werewolves because of his father's murder? He looked pale and anxious and simply nodded at James before turning back toward Moody.

"I think this is Voldemort's way of weakening us for tomorrow's attack," barked Moody. "Yes, we can handle these things, but it's not easy having lost two Heads of Department, and it will put us at a disadvantage tomorrow when we've already been spent putting out fires all night."

"Those were our thoughts precisely, Alastor," said Dumbledore, stepping forward. "I believe our best chance is to let the Ministry handle whatever happens tonight so that we can be prepared for tomorrow."

"Agreed," said Moody. "I'll call if I do need anyone. And we'll meet first thing tomorrow morning for damage reports and planning." He turned and left as abruptly as he had entered, and everyone sat in silence once more.

"I don't like it," muttered Sirius, and Fabian Prewett and a few others nodded in agreement.

"You are not required to like it, Sirius," said Dumbledore, sounding uncharacteristically stern. "But we must do what is necessary. I do not believe that the Minister will be able to convince the Muggle Prime Minister to cancel the concert, therefore we must be ready when Voldemort's forces arrive. We are likely to be outnumbered and must be in top form, not injured and exhausted."

He pulled himself up straighter and nodded. "I should have left already. I expect you all to return home, rest, and await word from the Order. If you would like to remain here, you may of course do so." He paused, his blue eyes twinkling even in a situation as gloomy as this. "However, I surely need not remind you that this is not the Gryffindor common room."

Sirius snorted softly under his breath; James Potter looked slightly embarrassed. Frank nodded, remembering some of the wilder parties down there. Yet Dumbledore was right: they needed to rest, to be ready. He knew the draught Lily had given him would only last so long, and what he really needed was a good night's sleep so that he would be able to fight the next day.

With one last glance around the room and a set of quiet instructions to Gideon Prewett, Dumbledore left the meeting. Several Order members followed, until only about a dozen people remained. Remus Lupin looked positively ready to collapse.

"Come on, Moony," said Sirius abruptly, standing and practically dragging his friend to his feet. "Let's get you settled."

Remus sighed but did not say anything; he seemed too exhausted to speak. "Are you coming, Prongs?" asked Sirius.

"Seeing as it's my place and my idea, of course I am," said James. "Come on, Peter." He kissed Lily on the cheek. "I'll see you back here in the morning. Have Fabian walk you home."

Lily laughed and pushed him toward the door. "I'm perfectly capable of getting home on my own, thank you. You're the one who needs to be careful."

"I always am," he returned flippantly. At the skeptical look on her face, he amended his answer with a crooked grin. "Well, usually. I love you, you know."

"I love you too, James," she said softly, kissing him once more. The four friends left, leaving Lily sitting with Frank and Alice.

"Is Remus going to be all right?" asked Frank after a few moments. "He didn't look well."

Lily nodded slowly, her eyes still following their path. "He'll be fine, at least in a few days."

Alice was staring thoughtfully at the door as well. "He's a werewolf, isn't he?" she asked softly, completely out of the blue. Frank turned to her in surprise; even Lily raised her eyebrows.

"Very good," she murmured. "I suppose if you're really in the Order now, it's not a secret. Yes, he's a werewolf."

Alice nodded sadly as Frank turned to her. "How did you know?" he asked her. Really, how had he missed it?

She shrugged. "I picked up on some things when we were working with his father. And he looked so bad tonight I thought that might be why--not to mention his reaction when Moody mentioned the werewolves being out."

It made sense, and Frank suddenly felt a deep rush of sadness as he realized why John Lupin had fought so hard for the werewolf community. He was trying to make a better world for his son, and he had been killed for it. Now Remus had to go through his painful transformations every month all alone, with no family to look after him.

"Why did they go with him?" he asked, realizing James, Sirius, and Peter had left with Remus. Lily shrugged in reply, but it was fairly obvious she was not telling him everything.

"They take care of him, check on him in the morning, that sort of thing." She glanced away, but Frank didn't push it. He was starting to feel tired, and trying to figure out another mystery--and one that really wasn't his business anyway--would only make it worse.

Lily seemed to sense his sudden weariness. "Frank, you should just stay here tonight. And since you have a concussion, it would be good for someone to stay with you." When Frank started to protest, she raised an eyebrow. "Unless you want to go to St. Mungo's?"

Shaking his head ruefully, he agreed. "I'll stay here. Can I use that spare room I think is down the hall?"

"Of course," she said, standing as if to lead him back. "That's what it's for. And I'll stay too, to make sure you're all right."

Alice stood and laid a hand on Lily's arm. "I can stay with him. Really." Lily looked uncertain until Alice rolled her eyes. "I know what to look for when someone's had a concussion--at least, now that he's admitted Pomfrey didn't look at him. We'll be all right."

Lily nodded, a small smile playing at her lips. "Okay, then. He is your partner." There was a funny little emphasis on the word partner that Frank didn't miss, and for some reason caused Alice to blush. "I'll mix a few more draughts just in case. You can send word if you need anything else."

"Thank you," said Alice. She turned to Frank. "Come on, let's get you settled for the night."

He stood and smiled tiredly at Lily Evans. "Thank you for your help," he said as Alice led him away. "You showed up at just the right time."

"You're welcome," she replied. "Just get some rest. It sounds like we have a long day ahead of us."

Beside him, Alice sighed. Frank took her hand as they headed down the short hallway. It seemed only natural after how many times they had done so over the last few hours. He almost didn't care if she rejected him later; right now he needed her, and he was fairly certain she needed him.

"It'll be all right," he murmured as they entered the small spare room. She nodded and smiled.

"I know," she said, sounding completely confident. He gave her a questioning look, and to his surprise, she wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head against his chest. "We have each other."

He embraced her back and kissed the top of her head. Maybe there was hope after all--at least for a while, until the world ended.

* * *

Chapter Eleven

Alice stared at the ceiling, knowing that she should be trying to sleep yet still unable to do so. It wasn't really that late yet, and in spite of--or perhaps because of--all that had happened that day, her mind was racing too fast for her body to stop and rest. She felt anxious and confused and happy and guilty and frightened all at the same time.

Beside her, Frank slept soundly. How he had managed to make it through the day in his condition still baffled her. Once again she was amazed at his strength, and yet at the same time, she had now seen his vulnerabilities and found him all the more attractive for them.

Glancing at his peaceful face, she stopped herself from reaching out to smooth his furrowed brow. He needed his rest for whatever they would face the following day. Instead, she gently kissed his lips and sat up, running a hand through her hair to try and calm it into some semblance of order before padding softly toward the door.

"Where are you going?" he asked, still half asleep.

"I'm thirsty," she whispered, not wanting to disturb him. "Do you need another draught?"

He mumbled something that sounded like, "Come back to sleep," but Alice just smiled to herself and left. She was surprised to see a light on in the main room, where Fabian had settled into the chintz chair with a book and a mug of tea. What was he doing awake in the middle of the night?

He glanced up when he heard her and grinned. "Another night owl, then?" he said.

"I am tonight," she replied, shrugging ruefully.

"Is Frank all right?" he asked, sounding concerned, and she was grateful for his thoughtfulness.

"He's sound asleep. I just needed something to drink."

"There's plenty of tea," he said as she continued into the kitchen. "Moody won't allow us anything much stronger."

"I can imagine," she laughed, helping herself to a chipped mug from a cabinet. She filled it with water, quickly warmed it with her wand, and found some tea. Holding the mug with two hands, she carried it back to the living room to let it steep and curled up on the couch across from Fabian. "Why are you awake?"

He shrugged. "Figured someone should stay up with everything that's going on. Gideon said he'd be back early so I could catch a few hours of sleep."

"Have you heard from Moody or Dumbledore?" she asked, and he nodded.

"I had a message from Moody about an hour ago. He said they're really busy. Everyone's out--it's worse than we thought."

She frowned as she sipped at her drink. "How can it get worse than dragons and giants and werewolves?" she asked, and he set down his book with a sarcastic tip of his head.

"Well, the dragon has been wrangled, but there were several injuries. There are more giants than expected, the WCU has had so many werewolf reports that they can't handle it alone anymore, and apparently a large company of hags and banshees have descended upon York."

Alice shook her head as she took a sip of tea. She wanted to be out there helping, yet she knew there was more to come. "Have we heard whether the concert has been canceled? Was Dumbledore able to convince the Minister?"

"Our Minister, yes," said Fabian. "In spite of his outward appearance, he holds Dumbledore in extremely high regard and will do just about whatever he says. But the Muggle prime minister was adamant. The concert must go on. Opening night, important guests, national morale, blah blah blah."

"Good Godric," Alice said, aghast. "That's mad."

Fabian shrugged. "I'm sure the man doesn't really understand what he's up against. He said he'd increase Muggle security. You know, with those weapons they carry--guns."

"As if that will hold back a Death Eater," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"That will be our job," Fabian returned cheerfully. "Which is why we've got our feet up for now--so we'll be ready to save the world later."

Alice was silent for a while as she contemplated Fabian's words. "Is that what you do in the Order? Save the world when the Ministry can't?"

He studied her before replying, much like Frank might have done. It suddenly reminded her of being at school, and of the small crush she'd had on Fabian when they had played Quidditch together…until it had become fairly obvious she was nothing more than a friendly third year, more of a younger sister than a potential date. And of course, there had been the time she'd walked in on him kissing one of the Hufflepuff Beaters in the Quidditch changing room, after which all her hopes had evaporated in shock and almost a bit of relief.

"It's not that the Ministry can't," he said, sitting up straighter and sounding very serious. "Frank was right earlier: the Ministry can handle it. But this war is getting bigger and bigger, and they need our help." He glanced slyly at the ceiling. "Secret help. We can operate in the shadows a bit more easily than you can, see."

"How?" she asked, genuinely curious. He leaned forward with a grin, obviously warming up to the conversation.

"We've got people everywhere, watching and listening and even spying. We hear things before you do, little things. We have a good idea of who they are and where they are, and we're constantly trying to stop them before you're even called in."

"So you're saying that the Order is trying to make my job easier?" she asked skeptically. She had been working like mad for the past month; if that was his idea of easier, she wondered what sort of caseload the department would be dealing with if the Order wasn't out there trying to fight back on its own.

"I'm sure it doesn't seem like it," he laughed. "You work your arse off, I know. That's why it's brilliant we've got two good Aurors on our side now."

"How do you know we're on your side?" Alice asked. She still wasn't completely sure she was, after all. When Moody had ordered them there, was that as Order members or Aurors? He had welcomed them into the Order, but did she want to join? Frank had as much as said so, and deep down she suspected she would as well, but it was a strange, nervous welcome, to be sure.

"You're here," Fabian said simply. "Moody may have sent you as an Auror, but he wouldn't have done so if he didn't want you and trust you. We need you," he finished. "I think what's happening now proves it. You're on the inside and can get us even more information now."

Alice nodded slowly, knowing he was right. The tea was settling her racing thoughts, but she had one last question. "How did he make his Patronus talk? He said Gideon would show us when we got here, but we didn't have a chance."

Setting down his own mug, Fabian grinned as he picked up his wand and stood. "Then I'll show you, and you can show Longbottom when he's not puking his guts out." When Alice gave him a reproachful look, he laughed. "I know, concussion and all that. What's going on with you two, anyway? That hand-holding was way more than just partners in the office."

Alice felt herself blushing. "I don't know," she admitted, because she really didn't. "It just happened today."

"I doubt that." Fabian snorted. He motioned her to stand next to him. "Whatever's going on between you two has been there for a while, I'd reckon."

Alice shook her head in amazement. "We haven't seen one another since you left Hogwarts. How in the world would you know anything like that?"

"I can tell." He shrugged. "It's a gift. Now, do you want to know the spell or not?"

With a nod, Alice pulled out her wand and took her first official plunge into the Order of the Phoenix.

* * *

Several hours later, Alice was awakened by a soft nudge on her shoulder, followed by a gentle hand running a finger along her cheek and calling her name. Her well-trained Auror instincts had her shooting up before she'd even rubbed the sleep from her eyes, right hand reaching for her wand. Frank pulled back to avoid getting clocked in the head, wide-eyed at her reaction.

"Wow, do you always wake up like that?" he asked with a nervous laugh.

"When I'm not expecting someone to wake me up, yes," she said, glancing around in confusion. It came back to her quickly: she was in the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, where she must have fallen asleep on the sofa sometime during the night. She remembered coming out for tea, talking with Fabian, and learning the fascinating spell that would now allow her Patronus to talk. She did not, however, remember falling asleep at some point during the night, or someone tucking a blanket over her when she did.

"It's all right," Frank said softly, obviously noticing her confusion. "We're still at Order headquarters and it's half past eight. Moody just sent another talking ferret to let us know the meeting starts in an hour, so I thought I'd wake you."

"Brilliant," she said, unable to hold back a yawn as she stretched. "Just enough time to clean up before starting all over."

Frank frowned. "Are you all right?" he asked. "I had no idea you were out here, otherwise I would have switched places with you…" He trailed off, and she could tell he felt bad about it.

"I'm fine," she said, although she felt stiff and tired. "I couldn't sleep, so I came out for some tea and ended up crashing here." When he didn't respond, she put her hand on his still scratched cheek, now covered with stubble. "It wasn't you, and you needed a good night's sleep anyway. How do you feel?"

He shrugged. "Better than yesterday, although I could use one of those draughts Lily left."

"Then take one, they're in the kitchen. Smells like someone is cooking in there, too." Alice found she was once again starving.

Frank grinned. "Gideon is cooking us breakfast. After telling him more about yesterday, he felt sorry for us and decided we needed a good meal to keep us going."

"Even better!" she laughed as she stood. "Go ahead and get started then while I make myself presentable."

"You look beautiful," he murmured, smiling as he tucked a stray curl behind her ear. Then he cleared his throat. "But I'll wait if you want to freshen up."

She moved to kiss him on the cheek, but he turned his face toward hers and caught her lips instead. Smiling against him, she couldn't help but feel a flood of happiness at whatever had blossomed between them during the last twenty-four hours. She idly wondered if it was simply the stress of the situation, but then she had been feeling something for several weeks, so maybe he had as well. Maybe it was real.

Frank opened his mouth to speak, and she shook her head at him before he could even begin. "Don't you dare apologize. I'm tired of hearing you mutter those two words over and over."

He gave her a dry look. "I wasn't going to apologize. I think we're a bit beyond that now, don't you?"

Unsure what to say, she took his hand and led him back down the hall toward the room where he had slept. She shut the door behind them to find him already sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her.

"Do we need to talk?" he asked, looking more nervous than he sounded.

"I'm not sure what there is to talk about," she replied. For some reason, she stayed by the door, maybe because if she were to get any closer to him she'd end up snogging him again, just like at the office the day before. And it wasn't the time or place, although she couldn't help thinking about it…

"This," he said, gesturing between them. "Us. Work. The Order." He sighed and shook his head. "So much has happened in the last twenty-four hours I don’t even know where to start."

"Do you regret anything?" When he frowned, she amended her question; she knew how he felt about John Dawlish, after all. "I mean, anything about us?"

He studied her with that thoughtful look he had before he answered. "I don't regret anything," he said softly. "But I would if I thought I'd done something wrong. I don't want to hurt you."

"You didn't do anything wrong," she replied. "And you won't hurt me."

"Do you…well, do you think it's a mistake?" he asked, and he sounded miserable asking it. "To take this any further? We are partners, after all…we work together and our jobs are important."

Alice sighed. She had wondered the same thing, yes. They were partners, and they had already been called out by Moody once. She was certain there were regulations about personal relationships between partners, and logically she knew she should probably follow the rules in order to keep her job and be able to do it well. And yet, she had never been one to follow the rules, not completely. Frank knew that: he had docked her points at Hogwarts more than once for it as a prefect.

This was different though: this was real life, not school. This was her career, and her career involved the safety of others. Yet this was also her life, and her life involved more than work. She had been attracted to Frank for weeks, constantly thinking about what it would be like to have more than a working relationship with him. Now that he had taken that first step and kissed her, why would she reconsider now? That's what would hurt more: not ever knowing what it could be like with him.

"It might be," she finally admitted, and his face fell in disappointment. "According to department regulations, anyway." His eyes flashed open again. "And I know it's hard for you to ignore the rules." Now a small smile passed his face. "But I can. For this."

He held out a hand, and she stepped forward. "For what?" he asked, pulling her closer. "For us?"

She gazed down at him and nodded. "For you, yes."

He reached up and framed her face in his hands, and she shivered under his touch. "Then there's really not much to talk about, is there?"

"Not really," she replied, leaning toward him. "Although you've always been a bit of a talker."

"Then I'll stop talking," he murmured, his lips against hers, and he kissed her once more. She sighed with relief, that he wasn't giving up, that it wasn't just a result of her injury the day before or the incredible tension in Robertson's office: it was real. He felt it too. He kissed her gently, tenderly, his hands wrapping around her waist to pull her closer.

She let herself fall forward, so that they crashed to the bed together, but it was the wrong idea: he let out a small groan, and too late she remembered his head as she rolled away from him, apologizing profusely.

"Now who's apologizing?" he said with a small laugh, a hand to his head. "No, it's just that I do need that draught, so maybe I'd better go."

She kissed his forehead before they sat up. "Right. You head to the kitchen, and I'll clean up and join you shortly."

"Right. Thanks." He stood, still rubbing his forehead. "I'll see you out there."

He turned to leave, but she called after him. "Frank? Do you think…well, do you think we need to keep it secret?"

He smiled. "Maybe just keep it subtle?" he suggested.

"I think a few people have already figured it out," she said. "Like Moody, for one."

He shrugged as he opened the door. "We'll deal with it when we need to," he said. "If we keep it professional and do our job, even Moody won't have anything to complain about, right?"

She nodded. "Right. Professional."

He gave her a sly grin before he left. "It won't be easy, but it'll be worth it."

"It better!" she called after him, then laughed to herself.

Taking out her wand, Alice wandered into the accompanying bathroom and undressed. After she had performed a simple cleaning spell on her clothing and robes, she jumped into the shower to wash herself. She felt ten times better when she stepped out and pulled on clean clothes. With a few more flicks of her wand, her hair was dry and combed, and a few dabs of makeup hid the remaining scratches on her face and added some color. She was suddenly ravenous.

Frank was sitting at the table with Gideon, picking at his food. Whether he was not actually hungry or just waiting for her, she wasn't sure, but he glanced up and smiled broadly when she entered.

"Help yourself," said Gideon, gesturing at a large plate of bacon, eggs, sausage, and toast. "I've made plenty."

"It looks wonderful," said Alice, piling her plate high with food, since she had no idea what the day would bring. "Where did you learn to cook?"

Gideon made a face. "My sister, believe it or not. She's brilliant in the kitchen, even if she does half of it with magic."

"Is she in the Order?" asked Alice, and Gideon shook his head.

"No, she has five kids at home to worry about, including newborn twins. A war seems trivial compared to that, from what I've seen."

Alice laughed. "That's probably true. Plus they need their mum."

Frank filled her glass with juice before he started slowly on his own food. Now that she had a proper chance to look at him, he still seemed a bit peaky.

"Did you take a draught yet?" she asked. He nodded.

"Yes, just a bit ago. I'll be fine."

"Have we heard anything else?" she asked, and they both shook their heads. "I wonder what last night was like."

"It sounded bad, judging by Moody's message," offered Gideon. "I think you two were right, that Voldemort's trying to weaken us for tonight."

"If tonight is the real endgame," murmured Frank.

"If it is, we'll be prepared," shrugged Gideon. "It's the best we can do. At least we know ahead of time. Too often we're caught in the middle of it--or we're just too late."

They ate in silence, each wrapped in their own thoughts of what was going on in the world outside. A few other Order members drifted in, including James Potter and Sirius Black. They sat at the table and tucked into the food, looking exhausted. Frank exchanged a glance with Alice, but it was Gideon who spoke.

"How's Remus?" he asked softly.

James shrugged. "Rough night, but he might be around later." Sirius was silent as he ate.

"Is Lily coming by?" asked Alice, hoping she might see the young Order member again. There were so few women in either the Auror department or the Order that she had felt a quick kinship with Lily the previous night.

"She was called into St. Mungo's today," said James. "And from she said, it sounds like it will be a busy day."

"What have you heard?" asked Frank, setting down his fork and frowning. "What's happened?"

James shook his head. "I don't know, but she said there were a lot of injuries. So whatever went down last night has flooded St. Mungo's."

Frank looked conflicted, and Alice knew what he was going to say before he even said it. "We should go--" he started, but James shook his head.

"You should wait for Moody. He'll let us know what's going on and what he needs us for."

"We could help--" Frank tried again, but James gave him a surprisingly piercing look.

"And then we'd be short two Aurors tonight." He paused to let it sink in. "I know it's bollocks to sit around, but we need to wait on Moody and Dumbledore."

And so they waited, though it was not long before the rest of the Order arrived, followed quickly by Dumbledore and Moody. Alice thought the old Auror looked exhausted. He sipped from the flask he always kept with him, and she wondered if he was sipping a Pepperup Potion as she could have sworn a bit of steam escaped his ears. It was either that or Firewhiskey; Alice suspected Moody probably could have used a bit of both from the look on his face.

"We were correct in our suspicions," Dumbledore began without preamble once everyone had settled. "Voldemort has delivered a hard hit to the Ministry overnight and seriously weakened any response to tonight's attack. Alastor."

"We had giants in Bath and Bristol," Moody said, stepping forward. "I sent over a dozen witches and wizards to handle it. Ten took out the dragon up north. Four corralled a group of hags and banshees in York. Six were sent to Hogsmeade to stop a rampaging troll. And the rest of both departments were out chasing werewolves. There were two fatalities and a dozen injuries and the rest of our people are barely standing. I don't need to tell you it was rough."

Next to her, Frank blew out a long, frustrated breath, while around them others stared in shock at the scope of the attack. She desperately wanted to know who was injured, who had been killed, yet now wasn't the time to ask, for Moody continued with barely a pause.

"It's up to us tonight. My people are rounding up the last of the troublemakers, nursing their injuries, and getting their heads on straight after just about the worst night of their careers. We need to be ready and waiting when Voldemort shows up with his Death Eaters and stop them before they have a chance to hit even a single Muggle."

Moody rarely sounded this angry, but Alice could tell the old Auror was furious at being blindsided by such a crippling, widespread attack. She couldn't blame him: it was a heavy blow, and it could only get worse.

"What's the plan, then?" asked Gideon, leaning forward. "What do you want us to do?"

"I want you to pay attention," said Moody, "because we are going to take down these bastards before they even know what hit them."

Alice listened carefully as Moody detailed the plan for that night. There was little discussion, only some minor input from the more senior members of the Order that Moody either accepted or growled away. Dumbledore stood quiet behind him, thoughtfully watching the room, which was silent and grim by the time Moody had finished. In the end, they were to be in place by six that evening, which still left most of the day unassigned. James Potter raised his hand and asked what they should do in the meantime.

"Just be ready," snapped Moody, obviously getting ready to leave. Alice did not envy him his job at the moment. He was fighting on a double battle, leading two groups against an almost overwhelming enemy. "If I need one of you for any mopping up, I'm calling, and I expect you to answer." He glared at each and every one of them. "And I expect you to fight like hell."

Alice exchanged a glance with Frank, who looked as mentally and physically exhausted as she felt. And it wasn't over yet. In fact, she had a sinking feeling that it was only the beginning of another very long day--one they could only hope to survive this time.

* * *