A/N: I am very sorry for the long break. I had lasik surgery in April and it took me a month to fully recover and I lost motivation to write a story but now I feel better and have decided to keep writing. Now on with the story...

London, Diagon Alley, August 25th, 1999, 22.15 hours

Ron Weasley, wandering through the less reputable sections of Diagon Alley, felt the communication mirror in his pocket vibrate. He pulled it out and faked checking his appearance. Percy was calling.

"Someone's been in my room."

His brother's message was but a whisper, but the communication mirror transmitted his voice loud and clear, protected by a privacy spell against eavesdroppers - the twins had improved on Sirius's design. The wizard concealed the mirror in the palm of his hand and asked: "Did they take anything?"

"None of the gold I had left there was taken. But they went through my notes." Probably copied then.

That meant it wasn't a thief, but a spy. "Who do you think sent him?"

"I can't say for certain," Percy answered. "It could be the Department of Mysteries, checking on my trustworthiness, or the Minister's faction, or even the Dark Lord - he has spies in the Ministry, and they might have noticed my visits. But it clearly means someone's suspecting me."

"If they just wanted your notes they'll not return," Ron said.

"But if they do return we can trap them." Percy said, knowing what Ron meant. The twins' gadgets that had detected the spy's entry could also be used to trigger a trap. They would have to be both quick and careful to avoid breaking Percy's cover though.

"Yes." Ron would have to be ready to apparate to his brother's room at a moment's notice. And he'd need a very good excuse if that happened during a rendezvous with Hermione. James Bond never had to deal with that, he thought.

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London, Ministry of Magic, August 26th, 1999, 18.00 hours

"What do you want for dinner?" Colin asked, parchment and quill in hand. Ever since he once had mixed up an order, he had been taking notes. Hermione might have overreacted a bit, but in her defense, she hadn't been able to eat lunch that day.

"Fish and Chips," Dean said, not looking up from the parchment he was reading.

"Nothing for me, I've got a dinner date in 30 minutes," Hermione said.

"Ah, Luna?" Dean asked. The blonde witch had shot down his advances during his sixth year at Hogwarts, but he still showed quite an interest in her, Hermione knew that from his regular questions if her friend had taken a boyfriend yet.

"No," Hermione said, somewhat distracted since she was checking the ward licenses issued in the last twenty years to see if she could find the addresses of Keagan Banks and Ottokar Merriweather, the retired obliviators she was hunting.

"No?" both members of her team said together, and with obvious surprise.

Hermione looked up, frowning when she saw both Colin and Dean stare at her. "What?"

"Who are you meeting?" Dean met her eyes, while Colin at least had the grace to blush and look away.

Hermione briefly debated telling him that it was none of his business, but decided against it. She was already keeping too much from them, and these days, knowing what your partners were up to was important. "I'm meeting Antoine Dupont. A tourist from Québec."

Dean blinked. "That's the guy from the attack on Diagon Alley. You've been seeing him?"

She narrowed her eyes at her friend. "Yes." It wasn't as if she was as nosy about Dean's affairs. Granted, he tended to tell her and Colin everything about his paramours without being asked, but still.

"Ah." Dean's smile looked forced, not teasing, so her glare had been effective.

Colin had beaten a hasty retreat under the cover of fetching his and Dean's dinner, and the office was silent for a few minutes as she and Dean returned to their reading.

"He's a pureblood," Dean said suddenly.

Hermione sighed and put the records down. "Yes. From the Americas. They're different."

Dean didn't look convinced. She couldn't really blame him - both of them had had their experiences with purebloods at Hogwarts. She forced herself to smile confidently. "He's a foreigner. If he turns out to be not so different, I can hex him without getting into trouble."

Dean chuckled. "True that." He quickly grew serious again though. "But if he's a tourist, how long will he be staying?"

"He's looking to immigrate to France or Britain," Hermione said. She didn't say that he was also looking to have a family. That would have led to more awkward questions she didn't want to think about, much less answer. Besides, there wasn't anything to worry about anyway. It wasn't as if they were in a relationship.

"That sounds serious," Dean said, with a hint of teasing.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "We're just meeting for dinner, and talk. It's not as if we're about to break a bed or something else by trying to perform something from an illegal copy of confiscated contraband."

That had Dean both blush and wince, and Hermione could study her files in peace until Colin arrived, at which point it was time for her to leave anyway.

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London, Diagon Alley, August 26th, 1999, 18.45 hours

Ron Weasley stepped into 'Connington's' right on time, and spotted Hermione already waiting at what seemed to be her usual table in the back. He walked over to her with a smile and greeted her.

"You're looking very pretty." The young witch had, as Ron noticed when he greeted her, put on some makeup and done her hair. It was a far cry from what the girls at Beauxbatons did just to attend lessons, and she was wearing her usual robes, but for the serious girl he had started to get to know, it seemed like quite a step. And for Ron not to notice and compliment her, would have been a rather big misstep.

"Thank you. You're looking sharp as well," Hermione said, with what he thought was the hint of a blush. Or just a trick of the light. Her smile seemed genuine though, and he once again felt a pang of guilt for deceiving her.

They ordered - Ron picked a dish he wasn't familiar with, having been spoiled for most of the food he knew by his mum's cooking - and for a moment, neither said anything. Ron cleared his throat, and asked: "So, how was your day?" It was a bad line, but it was all he could think of right there. Somehow, most of his lines seemed inappropriate.

"I've read files and records all day," Hermione said.

"Boring then?" He asked, with a grin.

She pursed her lips. "It wasn't boring." She sounded a bit defensive though.

"You'd rather be out and about, doing something though?" he guessed. He had hated the paperwork in the Gendarmerie Magique himself. It was part of the reason - though a small one - that he had volunteered for this mission. Which he had to keep a secret from Hermione.

"Yes." She nodded, almost forcefully. "How was your day?"

"I mostly spent it in my room, resting." And preparing to apparate to Percy's room and tangle with the burglar or spy. And writing reports, but he couldn't tell her that. He smiled at her. "I feel bad now about lazing around while you were working."

She made a dismissive gesture. "Speaking of work… what kind of work are you looking for?"

He took a sip from his wine to gain time. His cover had been created with an eye towards infiltrating the local underworld as a wand for hire. That wasn't something he wanted to tell the girl though. She'd be disappointed in him. "I'm not exactly certain, to be honest. I'd think I could be a good Hit-Wizard, or maybe an Auror. If they hire foreigners."

"Ah." She nodded. "We don't have any Hit-Wizards anymore. The Wands have taken over their duties. Though you'd certainly be a better Auror than just about everyone else currently in that department."

That sounded bitter. "Oh? That sounds like you have had a lot of trouble with them."

She snorted. "Well, you've seen them in action, haven't you?"

"Oh, yes. I thought those were recruits stuck with the bad shifts or something," he lied.

"If only!" She frowned. "But I shouldn't talk about that."

"Well… what are the requirements to hire on as an Auror?"

Hermione smiled, and for a moment, she seemed younger, and less cynical. "Oh, they are rather easy. You need decent passing grades in your N.E.W.T.s or the international equivalents in Defense, Potions …"

While the witch listed all the requirements a wizard had to fulfill to become an Auror - the standards did seem far lower than those of the Gendarmerie - and often added some commentary about Hogwarts teachers or other trivia, Ron tried not to feel too guilty about exploiting her eagerness to help him. Or about his plans to capture her to keep her safe.

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London, Diagon Alley, August 26th, 1999, 23.37 hours

Time had flown, Hermione thought, when she checked her watch right outside 'Connington's'. Talking with Antoine, the hours had passed like the wind… she blinked. She was now thinking like some character in a Robe-ripper novel, and not like the Wand-Leader she was.

And yet even after a brief analysis as a member of the Investigative Branch, she had to admit that talking, spending time with Antoine had been very enjoyable. So enjoyable that she was loath to have it end now, despite the late hour, and her plans for the next day. And, judging by the way Antoine was hesitating to say his goodbyes, the usually suave Qébecois didn't want to part yet either. Well, Wands didn't hesitate. They attacked!

"I really enjoyed the evening," Hermione said. "It was a lovely date." There. Now the quaffle was in his possession. He could drop or sink it. He hadn't seemed to mind her tendency to lecture, as her friends called it, so she was hoping that...

Antoine didn't drop it. He nodded and smiled. "Yes, it was. Time just flew. We should go dancing next." He didn't question if there would be a next date. He had no reason to, of course. They had had a very good time.

She held her breath when he stepped closer. Now she felt like the heroine in a Robe-ripper. She was suddenly warm, hot, watching him reach out to her, parting her own arms… then he was pulling her into his arms, muscular ones, she noticed, and their lips met.

She felt… she wanted him. Not out of curiosity, not to find out how it felt, not because she was drunk, she simply wanted him.

When they broke the kiss she was panting, and her hands pulled back from where they had been grabbing his hair and slipping under his robe's collar. For a moment she wished both of them had been wearing muggle clothes. Meeting his gaze, seeing him breath heavily, she was certain he was wishing the same thing.

They kissed again, embracing each other even tighter this time. She didn't care that they were in public; others would know better than to jeer at Wands. All she cared about right now was Antoine. Damn it, those novels she very much had not read had been correct: She really wanted him to push her down and have his way with her right here. Or push him down.

Their second kiss ended, and they stared at each other, still embracing. Antoine wet his lips, and said: "If we don't stop now, I think we'll end up in the next available room."

She felt him tense, starting to push her back, and held on tighter. "Your room's closer." Not to mention that while it wasn't exactly forbidden to others, only Wands and Luna ever entered the quarters of the Corps. She saw his eyes widen, and nodded. He still seemed to hesitate, so she offered a reason he would understand, with his past: "We're at war. I could die tomorrow."

He nodded at that, as she had expected he would. It wasn't why she wanted this, and she thought he knew it as well, but it was a good enough excuse to lay any remaining doubts and guilt to rest.

He apparated the two of them straight to his room. Their robes hit the floor without either saying another word. They could talk later. Much later.

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London, Diagon Alley, August 27th, 1999, 07.08 hours

Ron Weasley woke up when he heard spells being cast, and had his wand in hand and pointed at the other person in his room before he remembered where he was, and with whom.

"You're quick to draw," Hermione said, though her wand was pointed at him, and her tone belied her casual words. She was already dressed, he noticed, and her hair looked tamed.

Ron lowered his wand, calming down. "I'm sorry, old reflexes."

She drew in a hissing breath, then nodded. "I forgot." From the way she bit her lower lip, she seemed to blame herself for forgetting about the war he had supposedly fought in.

Instead of apologising, he asked: "What time is it?" The sun was up, but it was still 'too damn early', as he would have said at home - especially on the weekend. And as he had said often, back when his mum had taken care to wake him up early after a night spent in Paris.

"Nine minutes past seven. I'm late already."

Ron blinked. Of course she'd have work, it was Friday. But… "Let me guess: 'Wands don't have weekends'?"

She frowned at him, but he thought she found it at least a bit funny. "We do have time off regularly, to rest and recover. But our shifts are arranged so every day is covered, of course."

He nodded. Of course. Malfoy wouldn't want to present his enemies with days when half his guard was off-duty - even though, or so Ron thought, the vast majority of them would still be ready to fight at a moment's notice. Once again, he felt guilty about abusing the witch's trust like this as he committed this new information to his memory.

She opened her mouth, but didn't say anything for a second. "Do you… regret it?" She inclined her head a tiny bit towards the bed. For a moment she looked far more vulnerable than he had ever seen her.

He did, but not for the reasons she would think of, and so he shook his head. "No, no! Never! I just feel guilty for being on a vacation, while you have to work. And fight a war." His excuse came easily to him. He stood up, heedless of his lack of clothes, and walked over to her. Hermione looked surprised, and - although that might have just been his vanity speaking - slightly distracted before he pulled her into his arms. He silently cast a Breath Refreshing Charm with his wand behind her back, then kissed her properly.

She was smiling when the kiss ended. "I really have to go…" She glanced at the bed again, but he didn't think she'd delay her work for another round. Unlike other girls he had known. And he didn't want to tempt her. More, at least.

"When does your shift end?" he asked without thinking. It was Friday, but that spy was still out there. And tomorrow, Dumbledore would be arriving. Harry probably as well.

"I don't know, I have an open case… I'll send you a note?"

The way she turned the sentence into a question made him wonder just what kind of lovers she had had before. Hermione hadn't been... inexperienced, and she had taken the initiative last night, but… he couldn't help feeling that she had been surprised by the experience. Pleasantly surprised. And he was honest enough to admit that while he hadn't had any complaints - apart from Maribel, who had done that to get back at him for an earlier slight so it didn't count.

"I'll be waiting, and looking for a nice club to dance in," he said.

She smiled, then frowned at his words. "I can't really dance," Hermione answered.

"I'll teach you, don't worry."

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London, Diagon Alley, August 27th, 1999, 11.55 hours

"You look distracted. You never look distracted."

Wand-Leader Hermione looked up from the menu she had been staring at for the last minute. Her friend Luna was staring at her with narrowed eyes. "Err…" She had been distracted. All morning, until Luna had contacted her - using an owl since they weren't at Hogwarts anymore. The muggleborn witch hadn't made as much progress on her investigation as she had been counting on either. Granted, she also had slept less than she normally did.

"What happened?" Luna leaned forward, the tip of her tongue wetting her lips in anticipation. There was no stalling the blonde when she was in that mood, Hermione knew from experience.

So she didn't. "I had a date with Antoine. I spent the night." There, everything told.

Luna's squeal would have made everyone in the pub turn towards them, if not for Hermione's privacy spell. The pureblood witch currently hugging the breath out of Hermione wouldn't have cared anyway. "How was it? How was he?"

The flustered Wand-Leader revealed far more details about last night's events than she had wanted and reassured Luna that she didn't think it was just a one-night stand - and where Luna had heard that term, she didn't want to know - while they ordered and ate.

Though when dessert arrived, the blonde grew serious. "What will you do when Draco asks for you again?" Luna managed to cover 'Draco' with enough contempt for an entire thirty-inches essay, and add enough not-so-hidden meanings to 'ask' to make Hermione fear her friend was about to storm off and hex the Minister's son.

It was a good, if disturbing question though. "I'm certain he'll not bother a witch with a steady boyfriend."

Luna scoffed. "If you believed that, then you'd never have been made Wand-Leader in the Investigative Branch."

Hermione sighed. "I'm certain the Minister will help, if I ask?" She didn't like how she turned that into a question.

Luna shook her head. "You'll have to marry to be safe. Though even that might not be enough to make Draco behave like a decent wizard."

"Marry?" Hermione stared at her friend. Marriage between a Wand and a pureblood… it wasn't explicitly illegal, but it wasn't done. She didn't remember any Wand who had married at all, so far. Wands were married to Britain, one of their instructors had once said.

"Well… we could also transfigure Draco into a tuna sandwich and use him as Snorkack bait."

"Luna!" There were things one didn't joke about, and assassination was one of those things!

"You're right - that might give the poor dears indigestion," her friend said in an earnest tone.

Hermione snorted despite herself, and changed the topic before her friend plotted even worse treason, but she couldn't forget about the other witch's question. What would she do about Draco?

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Beauxbatons, France, August 28th, 1999, 14.17 hours

Albus Dumbledore studied the latest message from Severus Snape once more. The Dark Lord was preparing to further weaken Lucius's hold on Britain by striking at the Minister's allies, and Lucius had decided he would sacrifice the Greengrass family. He had known that for some time. But now he knew that they'd be attacked today.

They weren't exactly innocent, of course. The Greengrasses were among those who had profited from Lucius's regime the most, with monopolies added to their already considerable fortune. Their eldest daughter was Lucius's personal secretary, even. But they hadn't been Death Eaters, and as far as Albus knew, they hadn't supported the Dark Lord until after he had won. They hadn't supported the Ministry either, though.

Try as he might, Albus saw no way to save the family without endangering Severus's cover and with it the man's life and the whole war. With Tom and Lucius expecting the attack to succeed, it had to succeed or Severus would be suspected as a traitor.

The old wizard sighed. As distasteful as it was, sacrifices had to be made. In this case, the Greengrass family.