The Price of Truth

Chapter 4-

"So he went to see Bianca?" asked Hermione in a discouraged tone. She kept running a finger around the rim of her chipped mug. He nodded, looking down at his as well. A brief silence. "It's all my fault," she said softly. His head snapped up in surprise to look at her.

"Why's that?"

"As his best friend- Err, one of his best friends," she corrected herself, catching his menacing look. "I should have said something about her."

"Don't blame yourself, Hermione. This was never your fault to begin with."

Hermione lifted her eyes to look into his. A slow smile crept onto her face as she reached across the scrubbed wooden table and placed a hand over his. He grinned back.

"Ron, you're a great friend, you know that?"

"I've been told once or twice yeah," Ron replied, his grin turning slightly cocky. She slapped his hand lightly while laughing.

"You're such a prat."

"Ah, so you can smile. That's good to know." Hermione quickly looked back down at her mug, still smiling. Ron continued to chuckle while she drained the last of her tea. "What, you're leaving already?" he asked, watching her stand up. She quickly set her mug in the sink behind Ron and made her way out into the lounge to get her cloak.

"You said he left over a half hour ago. I should leave before he comes back."

"No, you should stay. You and Harry need to talk."

"I have nothing to say to him if he refuses to talk to me and continues to say I'm jealous."

Ron stopped stood up and came behind her as she slipped on her cloak. He put a hand on her shoulder and turned her around so she was facing him. She looked up at him, her head tilted one side as she wearily waited for him to speak. She knew a lecture was coming. One always did when he detected something was up between his two best friends. 'Funny,' she thought, 'seems like he's the one who gives advice and lectures these days.'

"Herm-"

"Don't call me that."

"Stay. Look, if he's not back in ten minutes then you can go." Her expression didn't change. "Okay, five," sighed Ron giving in very frustrated. "If he's not here in five minutes, I won't force you to speak to him until you bloody well feel like it." Without a word and her cloak still on for when she's ready to leave, Hermione stepped away from Ron and went outside to the balcony. Ron watched her close the glass door. "You've got three minutes, Harry, or I'll hex you into yesteryear."

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Unbeknownst to Ron or Hermione, Harry was currently pacing around in circles outside the front door to the flat. His mind was too jumbled up with all Bianca had told him that he couldn't think straight.

He loved her. He loved her! And she knew it! His mind couldn't comprehend how someone could use a person the way she used him. From the beginning he'd drop whatever he was doing and go to her. He'd find any means possible to simply spend five minutes with her. When the time came over a year ago, he wholeheartedly gave her his body along with all his love, passion and soul, thinking that she was it for him. But all this time she had already committed to someone else. She had already given herself to another man and was using Harry as if he were nothing more than some quick distraction.

This was killing him.

When she'd said those words, he felt as if he'd fallen well over fifty feet from a broomstick and survived with only the wind completely knocked out of him. All those times they were alone and quiet together. All those times they sat or lay in bed with the perfect opportunity to speak right there. 'My husband...' Those two words kept bouncing around in his head, making it ache more every time he heard them. A sudden thought burst into his mind at that moment.

'Hermione knew. She knew everything about Bianca- And she never told me!'

The sadness he had been feeling was quickly turned into sour disappointment, anger, confusion and disbelief. The only other woman he confided anything and everything in kept this from him. He couldn't understand how Hermione could do that, knowing fully well that one day he'd discover the truth.

His brain kept yelling at him to hate her. But he couldn't. No matter what happened between him and Hermione, he could never hate her. Be disappointed in her, yes. But he could never hate her. Because right now he was too busy loathing Bianca.

"I have nothing to say to him if he refuses to talk to me and continues to say I'm jealous," came a soft yet strong voice from the other side of the door. It was Hermione. Harry stopped his pacing and leaned closer to the door, knowing that she and Ron were talking about him.

"Herm-"

"Don't call me that."

"Stay. Look, if he's not back in ten minutes then you can go." There was silence and Harry could hear Ron's sigh of frustration. "Okay, five. If he's not here in five minutes, I won't force you to speak to him until you bloody well feel like it." Again silence until he heard footsteps fading away.

Harry stood there torn between whether storming in and apologizing to her until his voice was gone or staying where he was until the five minutes were up. "You've got three minutes, Harry," he heard Ron say. Harry jumped trying to figure out how Ron knew he was there. "Or I'll hex you into yesteryear." He didn't. It sounded as if Ron was talking to himself. Unfortunately Harry listened to him and took a deep, calming breath before opening the door.

Ron turned to look at him. Harry's eyes told him all he needed to know. "Sorry, mate," was all Ron could say. Harry nodded and slightly cranned his neck around Ron to catch a glimpse of Hermione out on the balcony.

"I should get this over with, shouldn't I?" asked Harry already aware of what the answer was. Ron nodded and turned to look at Hermione as well. Harry turned back to him. "Listen, Ron. I'm really sorry for blowing up on you like that earlier. It's just that-"

Ron put a hand a protest. "No need to explain. I don't blame you for acting the way you did. I just think you should have heard Hermione out before saying what you did to her." Harry's head drooped in defeat.

"I'm such a prat," Harry muttered to himself.

"Well, you're gonna be a bigger one if you don't go out there and talk to her," replied Ron. "She's getting ready to Apparate."

Harry's head snapped up and he watched as Hermione pulled out her wand. Without a second thought of what he was going to do or say to her, he raced to the glass door and slowly opened it. Upon hearing the door open, Hermione's wand hand froze in mid air. She didn't need to turn to know who it was. Instead she tucked her wand back in her cloak pocket.

"You saw her?" she asked still looking out at a part of Diagon Alley.

"Yeah." Hermione could hear him walking up behind her. She sensed him attempting to put a hand on her shoulder but couldn't bring himself to do it. He only sighed and went to lean beside her on the veranda. "Look, Hermione... I'm..." He didn't know how to say nor explain anything to her.

"You're what?" she asked somewhat irritated purposely turning away so he couldn't see her face.

"I'm sorry- About all that stuff I said about you being jealous." Harry cautiously turned to look at her. He instantly felt a pang of guilt knowing that he was the one that caused the hurt visible in those brown eyes. "I should have listened to you instead of trying to bite your head off like that."

"Yes, you should have," she said now more sternly while looking at him. Tears were threatening to spill from her eyes but she held them back defiantly as she straightened up. "Harry, you really hurt me. I was only looking out for you and didn't want to see you get hurt even more-"

"So your way of protecting me is by keeping the fact that the woman I loved was using me. Hermione, you were with me when I bought the ring and you couldn't tell me then?!"

They were both yelling at each other now. Several people down on the street curiously looked up to watch the spectacle. Hermione looked away from him, a tear overpowering her will and streaming down her cheek. "No, don't you dare start crying!" That statement let another tear slip out, followed by a few more. Even though Harry was very angry again, he couldn't help but calm down at the sight of her tears. He hated it when she cried. It made him feel as if he should climb up to the Gringotts roof and jump off. The anger subsided as he reached out and pulled Hermione into his arms. "Shh... I'm sorry. Stop crying..."

"No!" she yelled angry, pulling herself out of his arms. "Don't touch me." Harry kept silent as he watched more tears form in her enraged eyes. "I don't know why I never told you. I came very close on several occasions but couldn't do it. I knew you were going to act something like this. I didn't want you to hate me like you do now because I've..." The words painfully lodged themselves in her throat.

"Because you what?" he asked rather softly, worried of what she might say.

"Because I- I've..." She tried to gulp down the lump to no avail. "I've gotta go!"

Hermione spun on her heels and made for the door, when Harry reached out and grabbed her arm. She quickly looked back at him and saw a look on his face she'd only seen the night before. Grief and sincerity.

"Don't go," he said with pleading eyes.

"Why?" she asked ready to jerk her arm away from him and disapparate. If he was going to say anything about how much he still loves Bianca, she was out of there.

"Because I haven't been completely honest with you." Hermione curiously watched him, waiting for him to continue. "There's no excuse for why I treated you how I did. There's only a reason."

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**A/N: Cliffhanger!! Muahahaha!! This is the only thing I could think of to keep you wanting to read more. Just what's Harry's reason for treating our precious Hermione like crap??? Wait and see.

**A/N: I've read each and every single review and I love you guys for it! Thanks very much. I had a long Memorial Day weekend away from home and my story, so sorry for the delay.

Esther, you're very right. I should make my chapters longer. So from now on, although it might take longer to post, I'll try to write more. Well, enjoy!

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Chapter 5-

"Well?" Hermione asked somewhat impatiently a few moments after Harry grew silent. He just stood there with a wide-eyed frozen expression on his face while still clinging to her arm. "What's your reason for making me feel as if I'm the vilest thing on earth you've ever come in contact with?"

"I never said that," Harry said, his brow furrowing at the very thought. He couldn't imagine how she ever got such an idea in her head. 'She's never been one to jumped to conclusions,' he thought.

"You didn't have to."

Now where had Harry heard that before? It wasn't even an hour ago that he'd said those very words to Bianca. Harry sucked in a breath and pulled Hermione back towards the veranda.

"Hermione, I'm sorry about all that's happened and what I've said to you. But you've got to understand that I only said what I did because of my..." He trailed off again.

"You�re what, Harry?" she asked exasperatedly. "Tell me."

"Because of my being- Hermione, I'm blind." Harry watched her face crumple in absolute confusion.

"What?"

"I'm blind. I never saw what was right in front of me and the only way I could respond to you was by blaming everything that went wrong on you." He noticed a small spark slowly appear in her eyes. He grew slightly confused as to why he'd never noticed the small light playing in her eyes before and why his heart gave a weird jerk to the sight of it. But he pressed on leaving that question for him to answer later. "You know how I am, Herm. I deny everything." A smile tugged at Hermione's lips at those words.

"I know," she said softly. Her spirits slowly rose as she secretly wished he'd hurry up and say what she'd been feeling for so long.

"But I can't deny this any longer. I was an idiot for loving Bianca. I always turned away from the obvious." Harry finally let go off her arm and looked away to the street down below, completely unaware of the smile on Hermione's face. "I can't remember how many times I'd ignore or push aside anything that made me suspicious of her."

This wasn't exactly what Hermione was waiting for him to say. 'Wait for it,' she told herself patiently.

"I trusted her," he continued leaning on the veranda. "I looked away because I thought she'd never do anything to hurt me like that... All the unexpected owls, the odd bouquet of flowers she'd receive every few weeks... I was too stupid and in love to say anything." Harry turned back to look at Hermione who was still standing there with her eyes shining oddly. Again his heart jerked but he thought nothing of it only that it must be from what he's about to say. "Then right now when I was outside and overheard you and Ron talking, it hit me."

Harry went back to her and took her hands in his. Hermione's breathing couldn't help but quicken. She scolded herself mentally over and over that she should calm down. She told herself to keep her head. He'd held her hands innumerable times before. Why should this feel any different?

�Hermione, I realized that because of my being so self-absorbed these days and moping around over Bianca I almost lost you. I almost lost your trust, your kindness, your friendship... I almost lost your love." For the first time in quite a long time, Harry allowed himself to smile at the feeling of Hermione's hands squeezing his. "Hermione, I love you. I don't know how I would ever be able to live with myself, knowing that I hurt you and ruined one of the most precious friendships I've ever had besides Ron's. You'll never in a million years realize exactly how much you mean to me. I would have gladly given up my relationship with Bianca if being with her meant that I'd lose you. You're my best friend- my sister and I can't imagine my life without you in it."

"Hey, Harry," said Ron coming out onto the balcony. "Sorry if I'm interrupting something but you just got an owl from Sirius. Says he wants your reply immediately. Sounds pretty urgent."

"Sure. I'll be right there." Harry watched Ron nod and close the glass door. He turned back to Hermione and was shocked to see how much her face had fallen. It was as if she got word that someone dear to her just died. "Herm? You okay?" She looked up at his worried face, the odd little shine long gone from her eyes.

"Y- yeah. I'm fine. W- why?" Her eyes were beginning to mist over, but she fought it off and gave him a convincing forced smile.

"You looked as if I said something horrible. You sure you're okay?"

"Never better," she replied a little quicker and louder than usual. She pulled her hands away from him and wrapped them around herself. "So does that mean we're done fighting?" she asked, hoping it sounded lighthearted. Harry smiled.

"For now." He swiftly wrapped his arms around her in a hug. She stiffened at the feel and sound of him letting out a long held breath. The feel of it made her a bit light headed but she fought it as hard as she could. Harry rocked her lightly in his arms. He couldn't help but notice the light flowery scent of her hair. He smiled into it, glad that he had his best friend back how they were meant to be.

"Okay," she said suddenly pushing away from him, her voice louder than usual again. It wasn't easy to play casual. "Shouldn't you go in and see what Sirius wants?"

"Oh, I already know what this is all about," he replied, a light smile on his face. "But yeah, I should go give him my reply." Harry began to walk back towards the door when he turned back to her. "Hermione?"

"Yes?" Harry's smile grew larger just by looking at her.

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Harry," she said, faking another smile.

Hermione watched as Harry went back into the lounge, closing the glass door behind him. She let out a shaky breath she didn't know she'd been holding and turned to look back at Diagon Alley down below covered in the warm afternoon sunlight.

"I love you, too, Harry," she said again in a soft voice full of hurt. "I love you more than life itself... More than you'll ever know."

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"Ron, where's the letter?" asked Harry while shifting through that morning's owl post. Ron hopped off his stool and pulled out a think envelope from the pile Harry was digging through. Harry thanked him and went to sit on a stool across from Ron.

Harry,

I know that I've pressed the issue on several previous occasions and you've refused time and time again. But I hope this final attempt isn't futile and that you do agree to join us. Son, I'm not demanding you as your godfather but asking you as a friend and colleague, as an aid to the well being of the wizarding world; come to Dublin. We need all the help we can get in dealing with this murder spree. I know you haven't wanted anything to do with dark wizards since Voldemort, but we need you now. We can't allow history to repeat itself. I await you acceptance reply by this evening.

Sirius

He wasn't expecting a reply from Harry accepting or declining. It was an indirect order to go.

"Yes, father," Harry said to himself half-amused at the letter. Ron eyed him curiously.

"What does old Snuffles want?" Harry half waved the letter at Ron.

"To join the ranks against evil once again."

"Harry, mate, you should seriously consider making copies of those 'I'm sorry, Sirius, but I can't' letters. It'll save you loads of time." Harry chuckled. "But then again," continued Ron taking the letter from Harry. "I don't see why Sirius even bothers asking again in the first place."

"He didn't ask. This was practically a command," replied Harry taking the letter back. "I should write back telling him I'll be at his place tonight-"

"You're joking!" said Ron in amazement. His blue eyes were threatening to pop out of his head. "But you've always said that the Neo-Morts weren't your problem! No matter how much Herm and I have tried to convince you otherwise, you've always said no. I bet Hermione will start believing divine interventions aren't a load of codswallop after this miracle... Speaking of which," Ron trailed off, twisting about on his stool and looking around the flat, "Where is Hermione?"

"Still outside, I'm guessing," said Harry now looking for a quill and clean parchment in the pile of papers.

Unbeknownst to Harry, Ron silently watched Hermione on the balcony as she swiped away furiously at some stray tears. She turned to meet his eyes and gave him a reassuring smile that she was all right before disapparating. He then turned back to Harry who was beginning his letter to Sirius.

"She apparated home," said Ron as if answering a question for Harry. He merely nodded not looking up from his writing.

They stayed silent for a few moments, the scratching of Harry's quill being the only noise in the small kitchen. Ron was curious as to why Hermione had just been crying and knew it had something to do with his other best friend. Harry on the other hand seemed pretty oblivious to everything at the moment. Otherwise, he would have been the one interrogating her wanting to know why she was so upset. Ron knew perfectly well that what Harry and Hermione discussed out there wasn't any of his business. He knew there was something going on between them. But these were his best friends and when one was hurt, it was his job to find out why and fix it. But Harry was very delicate to talk to when it came to private matters of the heart. Ron knew that and had to devise of a way to squeeze in the subject carefully.

"Hey, Harry, what's going on with you and Hermione?" Harry looked up from his letter and gave Ron a blank look. 'Rocky start,' said Ron's mind.

"What do you mean what's going on? You mean what happened out there?"

"Yeah, that's it," said Ron trying to smoothen out his mistake.

"I just apologized for being the self-absorbed prick I was earlier." Harry set down his quill and folded up the letter. "Did you think we were plotting something against you?" he laughed. He watched Ron's eyes dart around the counter. A grin slowly crept onto Harry's face. "Don't tell me you and Herm are..."

"No! No, it's not that," said Ron catching on. Harry began to laugh as he screwed the cap on his inkbottle. "I'm sure you remember the sixth year fiasco. We were very wrong together."

Harry continued to laugh but soon stopped because of the threatening look on Ron's face. Harry reached over to the other side of the counter and plucked out an apple from the basket. He then watched Ron attentively as he bit off a large chunk of the red fruit.

"So why do you ask?" wondered Harry, his mouth half full. Ron hesitated for a moment, thinking that it was in fact a bad idea to get on the subject of such emotional things. He was never one for these kinds of talks anyway. Harry continued to look at him, waiting for an explanation.

"I saw Hermione crying out on the balcony right before she left," he blurted. Harry stopped in the middle of biting off another piece of apple and looked at his friend. "I mean... err..." Ron was absolutely tongue-tied and couldn't think of a way to cover that blunder up. 'Nice on, Weasel,' scolded his mind which sounded oddly like Malfoy.

"Is she okay?" asked Harry a tinge of worry in his voice.

"Yeah, I'm sure she's fine. You know Hermione. Incredibly stubborn, always the tough one, not letting anything get in her way- especially when it comes to a nice, big, boring book." Harry nodded as Ron suppressed a chuckle. Harry stood up and tossed the rest of his apple in the trash.

"I'm going to send Sirius's letter off and pack."

Ron remained on his stool, ruffling and ruining the end of Harry's hawk feathered quill. he didn't want to attempt another conversation with Harry. He knew he'd eventually see the light about their favorite girl.

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Harry had just sent off his good old faithful snowy owl, Hedwig, with his reply to Sirius, saying he'd meet him at the Splintered Wand. He was now packing a suitcase, thinking of what dangers these Neo-Morts were planning on putting him through. The Neo-Morts were a recently new threat to both the wizarding and muggle worlds. Although not as orderly as Voldemort in deciding who were their enemies, Neo-Morts killed at random those who didn't appeal to them. They were pointless killings done by worthless people. They believed that Voldemort was a god and that all they did was his bidding. Either way, too many people were being lost due to these surprise attacks and they had to be stopped. This was Harry's battle. He was just too tired of the previous fighting to admit it.

His last robe packed in place, Harry turned to look out the window at the beautiful late afternoon ready to fade away in the sunset. Standing there, watching the last golden rays turn to shades of orange and deep red, he remembered something or rather someone from earlier that afternoon. Hermione. Looking at the golden light, he found himself closing his eyes and seeing her warm brown eyes. He remembered how they were kindled with this unexplainable spark that made his heart thump so hard against his chest, he felt as if it were about to explode. Every time he'd look at her, he was left breathless. That's why he always looked away. She was too much for him to take. She was too wonderful for him.

Harry's eyes snapped open at those thoughts. Since when had he felt that way around Hermione? Since when did he want nothing more than to hold her close as he did earlier and keep his nose buried in her sweet, soft brown locks? Harry shook his head wildly. This was not happening. He was not thinking of his best friend in that way!

'It was just a slip up,' he thought going back to shut his suitcase. 'It's bound to happen to a man who's been best friends with a woman for years.'

Harry picked up his suitcase and went back to the kitchen to say goodbye to Ron. Walking in, he found a note from Ron.

Went to the shop. Someone accidentally dropped a crate of new bludgers and are now tearing the place apart. Good luck with the Neo-Morts. You know I'd go with you but give them a good kick in the arse for me anyway. Give my best to old Snuffles. Come back to us in one piece.

-Ron

Harry smiled at the letter and dropped it back on the counter. It was now eight o'clock, according to the only functioning clock they had by the doorway into the lounge. Harry went over to the large window in the lounge and watched as the final deep purple and reds of daylight began to fade. He had one quick stop to make before heading to Dublin. He just hoped it wouldn't be that quick.

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Harry apparated into the dark room and found Hermione asleep in her favorite armchair. He quietly set down his suitcase and tiptoed over to her. Again, Harry was left breathless as he watched her steady breathing that made her chest rise and fall, her long hair had fallen over part of her face. He reached down and slipped a lock behind her ear. She half muttered something in her sleep and turned her head, making his chest tighten. 'You're slipping again, Potter,' warned his mind. Harry pulled himself together and nudged Hermione. She sighed heavily once or twice, but he kept on nudging her arm, trying to wake her up.

"Mm... Harry?" she mumbled, her eyes half opened. She sat up in her chair and stretched her arms over her head, yawning. "What're you doing here?"

"I came to say goodbye."

"Goodbye?" She was wide awake now and stared at him, startled and confused. "Why goodbye? Where are you going?"

"To Sirius' in Dublin."

Hermione immediately knew what this was all about. Harry was finally going to help with the Neo-Mort murders. Finally, after all this time, he was going. But why all of a sudden? Just two weeks ago they had gotten into a discussion that he didn't want anything to do with them. Was it the incident with Bianca that provoked the sudden change of heart? She couldn't help but think that was part of the reason.

"When are we leaving?" she asked, keeping those questioning thoughts in mind.

"Tonight. I just wanted to- Hang on. 'We?'" His voice oddly enough was back to sounding like the little boy he was during his Hogwarts years.

"Yes, 'we'," she replied as if it were only the most normal thing. "I'm going with you. Don't think you can just leave me here."

"No, you're staying here."

"And whom exactly do you think you are to tell me where I can and cannot go?" she snapped very wide awake and furious. She stood up as if trying to level with him but he was still half a foot taller than she was. It didn't matter to Harry though. She was as intimidating as ever, but he held his ground. "You are not my father."

"No, but I'm your best friend who's trying to protect you!-"

"And as my best friend, you should know that I'm perfectly fine taking care of myself and I choose to be there with you when you're in danger because I love you!" They silently stared at each other, knowing fully well that the other person wasn't about to give up.

"I knew this was going to happen," Harry mumbled finally looking away from her. "I knew you were going to want to come. But you've got to understand that I won't rest easy knowing you're putting yourself in harm's way for me."

Hermione stayed silent, her arms crossed at her chest. She wasn't happy with this. She wanted to be there with him through and through. She hated it when he pushed her away like this.

"It's not fair," she pouted. "You can't go and leave me here. I won't be able to rest knowing you're in harms way."

"But weren't you the one who kept telling me to go?" he asked, failing in trying to bring a smile to her face by making her eat her own words.

"Only if I was going to be there beside you. We've fought together before, Harry. I don't see why this time is any different."

Harry closed the unknown gap between them and held her in his arms. Again he felt the world spinning around him and he couldn't think of anywhere more safe and comfortable than there with Hermione in his arms. She clung to him as if he were her life and her mind was going a million miles a second, trying to figure out how she could either make him stay or go with him. But he was as stubborn as she was. She never knew whether to love him or hate him for that- Right now she hated it. Harry put his hands on her arms and pulled her away from him.

"I won't be long," he said letting go of her. "I'm sure I'll be home by the end of next week. Don't worry about me."

"It's kind of hard not to," she said trying to sound light hearted but failing. Harry hugged her one more time, placing a kiss in her hair then picked up his suitcase. Tears were threatening to erupt from Hermione's eyes but she didn't care. All that she could think of was that Harry was once again putting his life on the line. "Harry- Wait!" She went up to him and cupped his face in her hands. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Herm. You're my best friend-"

"No. I mean I love you, Harry." She pulled him down to her and lightly brushed her lips against his. "I'm in love with you... have been for a while now."

Harry was quiet but she couldn't tell by his face whether it was from shock or fear... Maybe it was both. His lips remained parted and breathed lightly as his eyes bore into her own, disbelieving. Suddenly, before she knew it, he was kissing her. It began as a quick, chaste kiss, as if he were testing the waters. He opened his eyes to find Hermione's cheeks beginning to flush, her eyes were still closed and her mouth was slightly opened, ready to be devoured by him. He held nothing back, dropping his suitcase with a thud and pulling her up against his body. Her arms flew around his neck and she began to run her hands through his raven hair, scraping slightly at his scalp and earning herself a moan. His mouth and tongue were doing unbelievable things to her that made her give out a small whimper now and then.

In the back of his mind, a voice was screaming at the top of its lungs to stop now. But all his common sense had been thrown out the window the moment Hermione kissed him. This was too amazing and Harry didn't want to stop kissing her for anything. He would be asking himself countless questions about why he was snogging his best friend- But as was said before, all common sense was gone, making more room for instinct.

A similar event was going on in Hermione's mind at that moment. A voice began to screech at her that she was ruining one of the best friendships she'd ever had. Her always there in case of emergency rational thinking had diminished the moment she felt Harry's tongue dance with hers in her mouth.

After several minutes, which felt like mere seconds to both, they pulled apart panting for some much needed air. Harry stepped away from her, his eyes large with surprise, his lips swollen with her kisses as that damn common sense came barreling in once more.

"I- I'm sorry," he stuttered picking up the suitcase once more. "That was stupid of me. Bye, Hermione."

"Harry-"

But he was already gone.

Chapter 6-

A/N: Yeah, I know I took forever, but I've been reading and rereading Order of The Phoenix all this time. Also laziness was at its peak. *guilty grin* I hope you all have read the book by now and realize that my fic will now be a very AU one. I'll have to force myself to forgive J.K. for killing off one of my favorite characters but it still hurts.

Anyway, thank you all for your reviews and opinions. They've been great and I'm very amused that you all want to read more. I hope you enjoy this next chapter.

No Harry/Hermione action, but some very naughty thoughts on behalf of one of them.

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Harry nearly splinched himself after attempting to apparate to Horizont Alley in Dublin. He'd been there countless times before, but this time his mind had obviously been elsewhere.

Evenings in Horizont Alley weren't always the same. Usually it was bursting with young boys playing in the streets, several arrays of witches chatting it up in the robe and bookshops and the local pub doing brisk business. Other nights, such as during a bitter winter, the street was a snow covered ghost town or winter wonderland near Christmas. However, this night was surprisingly slow, being that two murders had just occurred earlier in the day and the town's people were terrified. Most shops were closed and the pub was doing small business.

Pulling himself together and getting his mind off Hermione for the first time since he left her flat, Harry made his way up the steps into the Splintered Wand. A gust of wind blew across his face, making his hood fall back. Looking down, he noticed that a Daily Prophet front page was clinging to his leg. Pulling it off, he read the headline. Two Wizards Murdered! Neo-Morts To Blame. The door suddenly burst open and he was shoved aside by two large, burly, drunk wizards. He watched as they stumbled down the steps, their arms heavily draped around each other, singing (or rather yelling) out a vulgar song that echoed in the empty street. Another wizard, an older looking and rather short one, came out after them, a black, stained apron wrapped around his bulging middle. Harry suspected the man might be a few inches taller than his little old Charms teacher, Professor Flitwick. He stood there and watched the other two sway and stumble down the cobblestone road.

"Away with ya!" he shouted standing at the door in a thick Irish accent. "And don't ya be comin back tomorrow!"

The two men rounded a corner but their yelling could still be heard. The short man laughed to himself and turned to go back in. "Ay, damn elephants," he muttered to himself. He then noticed Harry standing beside him. The short man craned his neck back to look at Harry properly when he spotted the ever-famous scar. His beady black eyes rounded in surprise as he stood there almost gaping. Harry was beginning to feel uncomfortable. He tried to casually flatten his bangs over his forehead, a very old habit of his since Hogwarts. He was about to leave, but the man came to his senses. He shook his head quickly as if clearing it of some thoughts, then stepped inside, beckoning Harry to follow him.

Harry followed the man closely through the dark and smoky pub, all the while keeping his eyes forward. He'd experienced just about enough in there before to know when and when not to look around. On occasion the place got a bit rowdy. Three wizards were scattered at the bar. One, Harry noticed, was completely swallowed in a shabby, black cloak, nursing a rather large tankard of ale. They walked past a towering wizard who appeared to have had two pints too many, was threatening a group in a corner. That part of the pub had gone quiet listening to his slurred trash talking.

As soon as they had gone through another doorway into a private parlor room, Harry could hear the fight beginning to break out. "He's over there," said the short man and quickly dodged out of the parlor and back to the scene. Harry closed the door and turned to see his godfather sitting in a large, leather armchair by a roaring fire. Sirius hadn't changed much, the only difference being that he was now sprouting white hairs, wrinkles were slowly creeping up on his handsome, framed face and he ate regularly, unlike his fugitive years. His salt and pepper like head turned slightly to look at Harry. He couldn't see a smile on Sirius' face nor a look a severity. Harry dropped his suitcase beside the door and went to join his godfather. Once sitting down, he noticed that Sirius was smiling lightly, obviously glad to see his godson once again.

"Good to see you again, Harry," said Sirius, setting down his pint. "Although I do wish it were under better circumstances."

"I know what you mean," Harry replied glancing about the room. "Where are the others?"

"I asked to come alone."

The door opened and Harry watched a witch come in balancing a tray of both empty and full pints. She came up to them and set down a mug in front of Harry with a wink. Sirius watched over the rim of his as Harry tried to ignore her strides back to the door. Harry took a quick swig from his pint and eyed Sirius expectantly.

"All right, I finally came. Should we get down to business?"

Sirius nodded, setting down his pint and sliding a thick folder Harry didn't notice before across the table to him. Harry picked it up and examined the contents inside. There were reports of the two murders earlier in the day and profiles of suspected Neo-Morts.

"Carl MacNair," said Sirius, watching as Harry flipped to MacNair's profile. "I'm sure you remember his uncle-"

"How could I forget?" Harry mumbled, reading the report.

"Four witches saw him walking away from the scene today, the first sighting of him in over five months. His house has been abandoned and of course, all known relatives are dead."

"Who did he kill, exactly?"

"Muggle-borns. A medi-wizard and nurse. They were coming out of the hospital for a break when MacNair and another Neo-Mort came out of nowhere and used unforgivables on them both."

Neo-Morts were infamously known for killing people at random. It didn't matter whether you were the Minister of Magic himself or a dish scrubber at the Leaky Cauldron. If you weren't a pure blood and evil, you were dead.

"So what you're getting at is that you want me to track him down." It wasn't a question. He already suspected his assignment the moment he read Sirius' letter.

"We suspect that when you find MacNair, you'll find Neo-Mort headquarters. He's rumored to be one of the leading wizards." Harry nodded he understood. Sirius stayed silent for a moment as Harry reached out for his pint and took another swig.

"Any ideas where I might find him?" asked Harry setting down his pint and papers. Sirius pulled out a small piece of parchment and handed it to him.

"One of the witches at the scene saw him drop this." Harry opened the note to find an address in neat, cursive writing. "A small residential neighborhood in muggle Dublin."

"Why would he have a muggle address?"

"It could be either of two things. Neo-Morts could be hiding there or it's the next stop on their hit list."

They continued discussing auror progress on the case, possible leads and suspects for hours. A clock somewhere in the parlor chimed one. Sirius slowly stood up, his cane in hand, followed by Harry.

"It's late. You need your rest," he said coming around the table to Harry. "Report back to headquarters when you have any new information. Be careful and don't do anything rash."

Harry couldn't help but smile. "Of course."

They embraced in a quick hug. Sirius stepped back, ready to apparate.

"You're to stay here. I've already reserved a room for you. Use your alias."

Pop!

Harry went back to the door and opened it to find the pub in order and empty except for two wizards at the bar. Surprised, he picked up his suitcase and went over to the little man behind the bar.

"Excuse me, do you have a room for James Black?" The little man looked up and again was in awe of Harry. He cleared his throat and shook his head fervently as if trying to get some thoughts out of his head.

"Of course Mister... err... Black. Just a moment."

He hopped off the box he was standing on. Harry leaned over the bar to see the top of his head as he clinked around looking for keys. The man then came out around the bar and motioned for Harry to follow him. When arriving in front of room eleven on the second floor, the man handed Harry the key.

"If you need anything, just ask. The name's George."

"Thank you," said Harry.

He watched George go back down the stairs then unlocked the door. 'If I didn't know any better, I would have thought old George is a leprechaun,' Harry thought to himself as he stepped inside.

Harry looked around the comfortable room, finding a queen sized bed, a desk beside him and a door half opened on the other side that led into the bathroom. He tossed his suitcase beside the desk chair and made his way over the window. Horizont Alley lay down below, very cold and quiet. Harry moved away from the window and threw himself down on the bed. Only bothering to kick off his shoes and remove his glasses, he drifted off to sleep almost immediately, his face half smothered by the pillow.

------

Harry awoke with a start early the following morning. While taking a shower, his mind went back trying to recall the dream he had been having. He expected it would be of Death Eaters, rattling, cold breaths and scabby, gray hands. But instead as he lathered his arm with soap and made his way up to his shoulder, he realized he had in fact dreamt of warm, brown eyes and soft, curling hair flecked with gold. He remembered delicious, soft, pink lips and hands that could scorch his skin with the slightest touch.

'How could one damn kiss make me think about her this way?' he asked himself, his eyelids being patted by streams of water. The inside of his eyelids still burned with flashes of skin and sheets. 'She's Hermione! My Hermione! I can't think of her this way. I've never thought of her like this. She's my best friend, the only woman whom I can confide in. I can't risk losing over ten years of valuable friendship over these feverish fantasies. . . But I've never felt a kiss like that ever before though.'

His senses came alive as he could practically hear the rustling of bedsheets followed by soft sighs and moans. "Oh..." her voice moaned and echoed in his head, "Please, Harry... Now..." Harry groaned, reaching out and turning the knobs, quickly making the shower as cold as possible.

------

After forcing himself to clear his mind of Hermione once more while getting dressed in normal Muggle clothing except for his dragonhide boots, Harry left the Splintered Wand through the muggle world entrance. After asking a man for directions to the street written on the parchment, he hailed a cab and was surprised when he was taken to a wealthy neighborhood far from any wizarding eyes. He paid the driver and began to search for the address MacNair scrawled.

39 Violeta Road, read the paper. 33. . . 35. . . 37. . .

"Thirty-nine."

Harry looked up the long gravel driveway and laid his eyes upon a house that stood out no more than old Aunt Petunia's perfect garden on Privet Drive. The handsome manor was closed off by wrought iron gates and equipped with a security camera. A healthy, green lawn surrounded the house, which was a coated in a seemingly brand new coat of white paint. The perfect upper class Muggle home.

Approaching the gate, the small camera swerved to watch him, the small red light blinking on its head. Without so much as a glance at it, Harry discretely pulled out his wand, sending invisible, powerful jolts and short-circuting the electronic. With a silent 'Alohamora,' the gate creaked open and Harry's boots crunched up the gravel driveway. Coming up to the house, he noticed a garage door open and caught a glimpse of a classic black jaguar. Harry silently stepped up to the front door but stopped his fist halfway from knocking. Again his auror instincts of thinking stepped in. This house was either of three things; a) An undercover Neo-Mort's home, b) a source's home or c) a wealthy victim's. With this in mind, Harry magically unlocked the door and slipped in.

Forcing himself to ignore the extravagance inside, Harry tapped his head and muttered the Disillusionment charm, instantly blending into his surroundings. There were three ways he could go. Before him began a grand staircase that curved and led upstairs. Beside the stairs was a wide hallway leading to the back of the house. And to his left was a dark room.

As silently as possible, he went left stepped into the drawing room. Blood red velvet drapes in all three windows kept out the morning sun. All he could see were the shadows of long couches and small tables. On the right wall beside him was a large portrait of what appeared to be a sitting woman. But he couldn't see her face, nor those of the subjects in other smaller frames on a small table under it. A clock was ticking somewhere off in the distance, probably near the door on the far side of the room. A sliver of yellow light seeped out from under the door, flickering, showing the shadows of a person moving about. The plush, black carpet muffled Harry's footsteps as he made his way to the door.

Heels clicked lightly on the hardwood floor as the person continued to walk in what sounded like circles. Someone let out a heavy sigh and glass lightly chinked on tile. Harry began to push the swinging door slightly to catch a glimpse of the person but the loud chime of the distant clock startled him and the person in the room.

"Blasted clock," came the voice of a woman. It struck Harry as strangely familiar, but his mind couldn't place it. "Late," she said apparently very annoyed. Seconds later another chime echoed through the house, but it was that of the front door. The click of her heels was getting closer, forcing Harry to quickly stand stiff against the wall. The door swung open and he watched a woman with dark, long flowing hair hurridly sway to the front door. He was practically invisible, but better safe to stay there against the black wall than sorry.

"Ah," came her disappointed voice from the entrance. "It's you. You're late."

"I beg your forgiveness, my Mistress," a man growled. "I have critical news for your husband."

"He isn't here. You'll have to speak with him later," she said impatiently. "Do you have what I wanted?"

"But my Mistress, this can devastate the organization's plans!"

There was a long pause followed by the door closing.

"Well, what is it?" Another pause. "Tell me, you insufferable idiot!"

"Potter's here." Harry was rooted to his spot, his eyes slightly bulging. How could he have been followed?!

"What are you talking about? I know for a fact Potter's still in England."

"N-No, my Mistress," the man replied. "I spotted him at the Splintered Wand last night. He went into a private parlor room... But that good for nothing Biggler threw me out before he reemerged."

During this conversation Harry was slowly making his way to the drawing room doorway in order to catch a glimpse of these two people. The woman sighed.

"Impossible," she said to herself. An uneasy silence filled the room while she contemplated what he had just said. "Follow me." Harry froze again as he heard footsteps. But they began to climb the stairs, allowing him to make it to the doorway. Glancing up to the second floor landing, he caught the profile of pale, custard like skin, a crooked nose, a furrowed brow and long, dark brown hair tied back, a few whisps caught in his mouth. The woman had already disappeared and Harry could hear a door being opened.

"My love," Harry barely heard her say, "MacNair is here with news for you."

The door was then closed and no more could be heard, much to his disappointment. Harry knew better than to follow. These people were clearly members of the Neo-Morts. His mind skipped at the thought of finding one of their headquarters. Making sure no one was soon bound to come out, Harry opened and slipped past the front door and outside again. Yes, he admitted, he did tend to do foolish things, but he also knew better than to walk into what would most likely be a room full of murderers without any backup.

Harry noticed that the iron gate was still slightly ajar, just how he left it. It was also most likely that MacNair had apparated inside. Quickly relocking the gate, Harry looked around for any Muggle stragglers or approaching dark wizards before apparating to Irish auror headquarters in Horizont Alley.

-------------------

"So MacNair knows you're here," repeated Sirius tapping his quill absentmindedly on a blank parchment. Chairs creaked as other aurors began to talk amongst themselves. Harry had just arrived and was forced to interrupt a briefing in order to report everything he had seen and heard on Violeta Road. His news caused immediate triumphant grins of finding a MacNair and possible leading suspects. Others threw worried glances at each other, knowing that their original plans would have to be destroyed and new ones conceptualized immediately.

"That definately must be Neo-Mort headquarters," said one over the talking. "We should raid the manor and arrest all those inside."

"But how do we even know they are Neo-Morts there aside from Potter seeing MacNair?" questioned another, sitting straight across from the first. He turned his salt and peppered head to Harry. "You saw no one else?"

"Only the back of the woman," he replied.

"Very well," said a woman sitting besides Sirius. She reminded Harry of a younger McGonagall as she put the tips of her fingers together and looked sternly at Harry who was seated at the opposite end of the table. Her tight bun of black hair stretched her eyes slightly as she studied him through her spectacles. "If that is all you have to report, I believe we have a very long day ahead of us. All plans must be altered since we now have a very possible Neo-Mort headquarters within sight. Potter, we will be assigning you to stake out the manor since you now hold more knowledge of the surroundings and the home itself."

Harry nodded and they all got down to work. A wizard near Harry stood and began to pace around the long table.

"Right," he said. "We will need records of who goes in and who comes out. Twenty four hour surveillance, post checks both owl and Muggle, photos, floo monitoring- And this is a muggle home, correct?"

"Yes," said Sirius.

"Then it would be possible that they have a... what is that communication device called?"

"A telephone," answered Harry. "I think I know how to tap it. Although I will need to go through the Muggle relations office for access and approval."

"I'll get on that," said a witch near him. She stood, gathering her heaps of parchment and winked at Harry as she walked past.

"Catherine," said the man turning to another witch. "Contact the floo network and-"

"Already on it," she said getting up to leave as well. All those who remained in the briefing room to fine tune the stake out details.

--------------

Sirius came into Harry's room later that afternoon and found him sitting at the edge of his bed lost in very deep thought. He silently went to sit beside him, startling his godson out of his thoughts.

"Knut for your thoughts?" he asked.

"I'll be the wealthiest man in the world," mused Harry. Sirius chuckled.

"That good?"

"That many and confusing... But yeah. That good." The men stayed silent for a few moments.

"Is it Hermione?" Harry's head snapped up and he turned to look at his godfather.

"How did-"

"I've known you, Ron and Hermione since you were thirteen. You practically act like your father. I think I'd know when you finally realize you're in love with your best friend."

"I'm not in love with her."

"Oh?" asked Sirius very amused. He raised his eyebrow somewhat knowingly. Harry tried to hide the grin appearing on his face.

"I- I don't know, Sirius. She's always been there for me. I've always loved her as- well- Hermione. All these feelings are so new and strange and-"

"You kissed her, didn't you?"

"I- What?! No!" Sirius stared at him. "Yes."

"And?"

"And it was.... Oh Merlin. It was..."

"That good?"

"That..." Harry trailed off, his eyes having a far away look in them. He let go of a deep breath and ran a hand through his messy hair. "Sirius, what should I do?! I've never felt like this about her- About anyone."

"Not even Bianca?"

"No. Especially not Bianca. She left me two days ago." Harry didn't notice the worried look on Sirius' face. "I thought I loved her but she never did this to me. She never made me go insane over one kiss."

He wondered how much he should say to his godfather, knowing perfectly well that even he, Harry, was still too shocked over this new revelation of feelings for one of his best friends. It was all too fast too soon. But that's just how life came to Harry. Too fast, too soon. He glanced at Sirius and realized that he was the only person Harry could talk to about Hermione. Ron came into mind as well, but try explaining to him that you want to ravish both his and your closest friend half the time you think of her. He had to get this out sooner or later if he didn't want to go insane.

"I'm too terrified and excited to figure out what all these feelings mean. I've known her since we were eleven and of course I love her, but never once actually considered... Half of me is saying this is all a mistake, that these thoughts of mine are going to ruin one of the most beautiful friendships I've ever had. But the other half of me wants nothing more than to..." He trailed off again, lowering his head. Sirius could have sworn he saw Harry blushing. Harry shut his eyes and rubbed his temple in frustration. "I'm not making any sense, am I?"

"No, you're making perfect sense," Sirius replied in a soft and calm voice after listening to all or most of what Harry wanted to say. He himself never really experienced what love felt like, but he did always pay close attention to his best friend's courtship. He was seeing similar signs in Harry as he did in Harry's father decades ago. "I don't know what to tell you, Harry, except to follow your heart. It may not seem like it at first, but it will always lead you right." Harry nodded but still felt strange about everything he'd said and was feeling. Sirius rubbed his back comfortingly and gave him a hearty pat. He then looked down at his watch, his eyes slightly widening in recognition. "But as for now, we have work to do."

"I thought you said I should relax the rest of the day."

"Yes, but there's something else. Sort of a last minute task, if you will. We're assigning you a partner."

"A partner?"

"Yes." Sirius suddenly looked incredibly uncomfortable. He then got up and went to the door. Harry stood up and followed him. "You're doing fine on your own and we're making good progress on the case. But we realized soon after you left headquarters that you will need a partner for the stake out. I doubt it's possible for you to stay awake for three days straight. Her encounters with the Neo-Morts and surviving Death Eaters are of some great use to us." He stood beside the door, his hand on the knob. Harry noticed the troubled look on his face but Sirius answered him before he could ask. "I'm advising you now, Harry. Please put your differences aside just for the next three days. If you had said something earlier, I could have prevented much of the pain. But you must act professional despite what you want to say or do. Don't do anything rash, Harry. You know it could-"

"Jeopardize or threaten the mission, myself and any other commrades. I know," finished Harry. Sirius still looked troubled.

"Very well. Meet your new partner." He opened the door and Harry's eyes widened in shock.

"Hello, Harry. Nice to see you again." She gave him a cheery smile.

Harry was speechless, as Sirius suspected he would be.

"Erm, hello." Harry turned to Sirius, a very worried expression on his face. "Sirius, could I- err- Have a word?"

-----------

*Snickers* It's the return of the big bad cliffies! Muahaha!! Sit tight, there's more to come soon enough.

Chapter 7-

Author's Note: I know most people have forgotten about this old thing. Can't blame them, it's been ages since I took a crack at it. There isn't any full blown drama in this one. More like piles of mysteries atop other ones while Hermione conducts an investigation of her own... Followed by another one of my 'trademark cliffies' as some people like to call them. ::wicked grin::

Since it's been so long, may I suggest going back a chapter to refresh your memory? Anyway, hope to see my inbox bursting with reviews!

And once again, it's AU- duh...

-------------------------

"Sirius, could I- err- Have a word?"

"Sure," he replied. He beckoned Harry's new partner into the room, asking her to sit in the high back chair by the fireplace. He then followed Harry out of earshot from her. Harry wasted no time in expressing his opinion, or rather, complaint about his new 'partner.'

"You could have told me sooner!" he whispered, obviously about to go off into a tirrade.

"I'm very sorry, Harry, but there really was and is nothing I could do about this," Sirius replied surprisingly calm. "You need to keep your emotions and temper in check, Harry."

"I'm not working on this case with her," Harry fumed, his eyes fixated on her. She was knowingly avoiding his stare by looking rather fascinated with an old, dirty painting hanging above the fireplace.

"You have to. You two are the only ones with valuable information and experience that can speed up our pace on demolishing the Neo-Mort organization."

"She's a liar, Sirius!" Harry snapped. Sirius forced him to keep his voice down, glancing behind him to see if she heard him at all. As far as he could tell, she was putting on a good show of being oblivious. Harry took a deep breath. "I don't trust her. Not after everything that happened.

"I know you don't. But please, Harry. Don't make me beg more than I have to. She's valuable to us. We need her information." A brief silence arose between them as Harry crossed his arms over his chest and fumed at the floor. "And besides," Sirius continued, "she only agreed to come on to the Neo-Mort case only if she was partnered with you." Harry's eyes quickly snapped up to meet his godfather's with a very surprised look. "She said she only trusted you with this information and that all us other aurors... are incapable parchment pushers that don't know the difference between their arse and a hole in the ground."

"She said that?" Harry asked fighting down a smirk.

"Well, no. It's more like I know what she meant." A side of Sirius' lip twitched upward.

"Excuse me, Black," a voice behind them interrupted. Both men turned to see her rise out of her chair and approach them a few feet. "I apologize for interrupting, but I do believe that you said I would only be needed here for another briefing and strategizing with- Err... Harry. I'm sorry to say that my husband has fallen ill these past few days and I must return to him quickly since our nurse is unavailable."

"Perfectly understandable," Sirius replied in a polite tone. "We won't be keeping you long. I only need to give you both your equipment and some last minute details, is all."

Harry followed Sirius to the small table. Sirius pulled out two rolls of parchment and a handful of small gadgets that he had magically shrunken to fit in one of the pockets in his robes. Harry took the liberty of resizing the objects while Sirius began with the instructions.

"We should be thanking Merlin for this one. Apparently, four days ago a home two houses away from our target went up for sale. No Muggles are living in there at the time, so it's perfect for you two to stay in. Muggle repelling charms will be put on tonight. You are to take Muggle transportation there at five thirty in the morming. We don't want to draw unnecessary attention." Harry looked down through his parchment, glancing over the name of suspects, places and other subjects they needed to confirm. "You have three days, so map out your tasks carefully. Report back to headquarters in three days by six that evening. In any case one or both of you are discovered-"

"Yes, we know," said Bianca who was sitting in one of the wooden chairs, studying her parchment closely.

"Very well, I'll leave you to it. Harry, would you please?" Sirius asked moving towards the door. Harry nodded, following. Bianca glanced up at them, an unreadable expression lingering before she quickly hid her face behind her long roll of parchment.

"Will you be all right?" he asked Harry who still appeared to be very uneasy about the whole situation.

"I don't know," he truthfully answered. "All I can promise you, Sirius, is that I'll return with all the information we need. I can't guarantee anything else beyond that." Sirius eyed Harry carefully as if trying to detect anything that said he wanted to harm Bianca. All he could see was his surly face.

"I know you can't, son. Although, you will need to be the one to pry some rather critical information from her."

"What do you mean?"

Sirius dropped his voice another level and inched closer to Harry. "She's been away from the Irish office for the past two years, obviously. Because of her work tracking down those old Death Eaters, we have come to believe she's discovered something about the Neo-Morts. Rumour has had it that a former Death Eater is the head of their organization. She only works alone though. Has been refusing a partner since she first started. So, obviously, she keeps millions of secrets to herself."

"Tell me about it," Harry muttered. Sirius chose to ignore him.

"Old Herring, her superior, recently told me that she actually does have some information for our investigation. When we approached her, she refused to answer our questions."

"Curious."

"Indeed." Sirius glanced back again to find her averting her eyes back to the table. "That's why I asked you to come. We heard of her returning to Dublin and I immediately thought that maybe she would confide in you."

"Because we were an item."

"Exactly. But this recent development between you both can be worked around." Harry snorted. "She did volunteer under the condition you were her partner after all."

"That I still have trouble trying to understand," Harry said, his brow furrowing.

"Same here. Anyway, we cannot just go dismissing any breaks we get a hold of... Please stay alert and be careful." Harry nodded, his eyes showing he was in deep thought.

"See you in three days, then," Harry said.

Sirius gave Harry's shoulder a firm grip and stared into his eyes. Harry knew this was Sirius' way of saying he loved him and wished him luck. Harry closed the door behind him and heard the familiar crack of his godfather disapparating.

Now he was alone with Bianca. The woman he wanted to be close to more than anything else in the world a few days ago, was now the woman he so desperately wanted to stay away from. Looking over at her sitting at the table and judging by her face, he assumed she was thinking along similar terms. He steeled himself and walked the last several feet back to her. No sooner had he sat down to finish looking over his parchment that she slammed hers down and spoke.

"Harry, please, you must forgive me!"

"Your name and the word forgiveness in the same sentence do not exist to me," he said indifferently while reading his paper.

"Harry-"

"If I assume correctly, I am the only one from the two that is in any way familiar with Muggle technology," he said in a raised voice as if not hearing Bianca at all. "But then again," he continued glancing up at her. "When 'assume' is defined, it clearly means making an arse out of you and me... Well, more me than you."

"Okay, I deserved that," she said in a defeated voice. "But, Harry, if we're to work together in such a closed environment, we are going to have to work around this... obstacle."

"So now I'm only an obstacle," he muttered finally looking up at her. His deep green eyes were holding deadly fire again, but she refused to look away or even flinch, as if trying to prove he couldn't hurt her. Harry glanced back down at his parchment then around at the equipment sitting before them. "We'll have to split the tasks in the closest halves. I'll take care of searching the posts-"

"Err... I'll monitor the floo lines. I have a source in the network already. She could be of some use to us," Bianca said catching on to Harry's wanting to avoid the subject of 'them.' "The posts come in mornings. You'll be taking the day shift then?"

"No, night. That will be my last task before your shift."

"Fine."

Harry detected an oddly disappointed attitude coming from her but thought nothing more of it. Soon after, she held out a piece of equipment to him as if attempting to challenge or tease him.

"You any good with a camera?"

-----------------

Ron was jolted awake the following morning by the sound of glass breaking. He picked up his wand from atop the coffee table and crept across the lounge and into the kitchen. His head poked around the doorway and found a mass of wild and curly brown hair barely peeking over the counter. He could hear her muttering and cursing to herself. Ron couldn't help it. This was too perfect. She'd hex him, of course, but the look on her face was always worth being turned into a gerbil. Even if it did mean she'd dangle him above Crookshank's head as more punishment.

Hermione didn't notice the tall, slender figure creeping up behind her at all, with his hands out and ready to grab. She'd once again been thinking about Harry and those brief minutes in her flat before he left for Ireland. She'd been daydreaming and reliving the memory of how he swept her up in his incredible arms and kissed her senseless. And then came those thoughts of why he left in the first place. She still didn't understand why she didn't go with him. She didn't understand why her always dependable conscious didn't allow her to become stubborn once again and follow him to the inevitable danger. She loved Harry. She would do anything for him. She'd die if he was torn away from her in an instant. She'd follow him to the ends of the earth even if it put her own life on the line...

'Then why didn't I go with him?'

Hermione sighed, clearly trying to set aside those thoughts for at least a minute. She hadn't been able to think straight since he'd left.

'Thank goodness I don't have to go into work until tomorrow.'

"RROOOAAAAAAARRRRRRRR!!!!!"

"RONALD WEASLEY!!!"

Ron fell back against the wall, caught in a fit of hysterical laughter as Hermione continued to swat at him rather hard. "You... good... for... nothing... bastard!" she yelled in between her own laughter and punches.

"Ouch! O- Okay, Hermione! Stop with the abuse," he chuckled desperately trying to catch her quick and surprisingly strong arms. She calmed down and stepped away, brushing back a few stray hairs.

"I should feed you to Crookshanks," she said, going back to cleaning up the pile of glass on the floor. The pieces had gotten smaller since she dropped them when Ron scared her. Ron straightened up and went about to make them some tea.

"Why don't you use magic?" he asked, his head deep inside a cupboard.

"Because I still prefer to do some things the Muggle way," she replied proudly. Ron made a noise inside the cupboard. She finished picking up the broken glass in a dishcloth and dumped the pieces into the wastebasket. "I'm sorry about dozing off on your couch."

Hermione had been over the night before in desperate need of some company to keep her mind from lingering on Harry for the remainder of the night. Ron was somewhat successful, but he had fallen asleep on the floor two hours after she'd arrived. Hermione was more than contempt reading an old book from their small bookshelf. One of them had already marked off a page over half way through. But she never reached it for she too fell asleep on the couch.

"You know it's okay," Ron said, his head reappearing and held a small box of tea bags. "This is your home, too. No need to apologize for anything." Hermione sat down at the table and watched Ron.

"Sorry," she said after a moment. "It's a bad habit."

Ron looked back and grinned at her as he quickly brought the water in the kettle to its boiling point and poured it into cups with teabags for them both. After knowing Hermione well over a decade, he helped himself to fixing up her cup with the exact amount of milk and sugar she preferred. He then sat down across from her and silently blew over his own cup.

"I don't see why you still like to go about things the Muggle way when magic easily saves and gives you more time for everything else." Hermione shrugged as she sipped her tea. "Even Harry does that sometimes," Ron continued. "Once he cleaned about half the flat before remembering he's a wizard. He can be real daft sometimes." Hermione supressed a laugh as she set down her cup.

"I'm not the only one who sees it then," she half smiled. Ron chuckled.

They both quietly sipped their tea for a few minutes, both in a state of pensievness and unknowingly thinking of Harry's current situation as well, until Hermione slammed her mug down, sending some tea spilling onto the table. Ron had jumped from the suddenness and tipped his cup over as well.

"Ron, what the hell are we doing here?!"

The quiet Hermione of ten seconds ago was long gone and now replaced by everyone's favorite head strong woman.

"What do you mean?" he asked innocently, knowing fully well what she was talking about.

"Don't play idiot with me," she snapped in a louder voice. "We should be out there with him! Not here... drinking our damn tea as if we didn't have a care in the world!"

"Hermione, calm down," said Ron giving her a forceful look.

"No, I will not bloody calm down!" She jumped up from her seat, knocking the chair over. "Ron, Harry needs us. We have to go help with these Neo-Morts-"

"Hermione, please," Ron said in a very loud voice. She quieted down startled. "Calm down for a moment." He watched as she began to pace very angrily about the kitchen. He stood up and went to her. "Hermione," he said putting his hands firmly on her arms. "Harry will be all right. You know that and I know that." She kept her eyes planted on the counter across from her. "These damn Neo-Morts are nothing but a troublesome gang of good for nothing wizards. All they are is a disease to the wizarding world. With Harry on their arses, they'll all be sent to Azkaban withing the next week! He's the best damn auror the Ministry and the Order have ever had since Moody." Hermione still remained silent although she was now looking Ron in the eye. "Have a little faith in the man," he continued, rubbing her arms lightly. "He knows we'll always have his back. If he begins to get in deep over his head, he'll yell for us."

"How can you be so sure?" Hermione asked softly. It was amazing how much sense and cool Ronald Weasley had developed over the years. Ron merely smiled as if silently telling her she already knew the answer.

"Because he's told us time and time again. I trust him and I know you do too. He's not the same Harry Potter we knew from Hogwarts anymore, Herm." Ron tipped her head up and saw the weariness behind her eyes. "Finish your tea then go back to sleep. You'll need all your rest for tomorrow." The clock in the lounge chimed eight in the morning, making Ron groan. "As for me, I better get going. It's our monthly Sunday Seeker Sale and I can't be late."

Hermione watched him quickly clean his mess and set his cup in the sink then make his way towards the doorway.

"Ron?" she asked softly.

"Yeah?" His head peaked back into the kitchen.

"Stop calling me 'Herm' or I really will feed you to Crookshanks." Ron laughed and nodded.

"Sure thing, Herm."

"Oh-"

His head appeared in the doorway again, waiting for her to continue. She gave him a full smile. "And thank you." This time Ron only grinned. His head disappeared again and Hermione could hear his still too large feet thump into his room.

Hermione finished the last of her tea and set it in the sink too. She cast a quick cleaning spell and watched as the dishes cleaned themselves. She went back to her overturned chair and picked it up again. Ron's bedroom door clicked open and she saw him rush into the lounge to grab his cloak.

"I'll be back around five," he called out to her. "Are you cooking or should I pick something up on my way home?" It was common knowledge between all three of them that Ron's talents certainly weren't in the kitchen.

"No," replied Hermione walking into the lounge. "I was actually planning on visiting Lavendar tonight. I need to talk to her about something."

Ron shrugged and fastened his cloak. He hopped over Hermione's shoes and wrapped her in a quick hug. He kissed the top of her dissheveled head.

"Good luck with the sale," she said.

"Thanks. You sure you'll be alright?" She nodded. "Okay." Ron jumped back across her shoes, waved goodbye and disapparated out of sight.

Hermione sat down on the couch and began to pull her shoes on. Ron was right about Harry and she knew it. He really was different after his last encounter with Voldemort.

"But it still doesn't mean I'm going to sit around here and do nothing," she muttered to herself. A refreshing spell later and Hermione disapparated to the Ministry of Magic.

---

It wasn't much of a surprise to Hermione that even on a Sunday morning the Ministry of Magic was rather busy. She hastily avoided talking to several familiar faces while on the lift as she wanted to avoid any questions that might have led to discovering her true intentions of being there on her day off. But then again, as several coworkers had put it with a good laugh, she was the overachiever getting a head start on another month's worth of work.

Briskly walking down the first floor corridor, Hermione turned a sharp corner before coming up to the Minister of Magic's door and slipped into a room at the very far end with a peeled gold sign reading ARCHIVES. If all had gone well, no one would have noticed her missing her floor and she'd have a few hours to herself.

Hermione slipped off her cloak and slowly began to walk between the never ending rows of overstuffed folders and books. The stuffy room was thick with the smell of old, moldy papers. It almost made her feel as if she were back at Hogwarts roaming the library. She wondered with a grin if Madam Pince was lurking about here too, waiting to catch a young couple snogging in the Potions section. She turned into a random aisle and began her search there. Luckily she came across an enormously fat file and knew she'd walked into the 'P' section and was now holding Harry's records.

There weren't any tables or chairs around so Hermione slid down onto the dusty floor and perched the papers on her lap. The first thing to meet her eyes were six photographs. One of Harry when he was a baby, another with him and old Gilderoy Lockhart during second year, during the Triwizard Tournament fourth year (she could spot the Hungarian Hornatil flying about in the back), graduation, one from when he first became an auror two years ago, and one from what looked to be within the last month. Finding nothing strange in them, she began to read:

'Harry James Potter... Birthdate: 31 July...' The light was too dim so she drew up a lantern and continued. 'Parents: James Potter and Lily Evans... no siblings... Graduate of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry...' She continued flipping several papers and old photographs, already knowing what most of them contained. 'Underage Offenses: Three violations of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery...' Then came a copy of the court transcript when Harry was tried the summer before their fifth year.

Hermione had begun to find it strange yet very comforting that she knew just about every single detail contained in these documents simply from being his best friend. Well, everything except what had happened during the trial, which she quickly skimmed over then. Reading these Ministry papers she came to think of how Harry had hidden nothing from either her or Ron over the years. They, along with Dumbledore of course, knew much more about him than any old musty piles of parchment crammed into a tiny hole in what was supposedly the most accurate set of archives in all of Western Europe. Convinced there was nothing new within the file, she flipped everything over to skim the last few papers which she hoped were more recent.

She realized that Harry was soon to become one of the most decorated aurors in the history of the Ministry, mostly due to his Death Eater captures and the death of Lord Voldemort. She flipped page after page of captures until she came to the very last piece of parchment which was half written in. Running a finger down for anything that looked suspicious, she came across something incredibly startling.

"No," she gasped in shock. "There's no possible way it could be... Is there?!... severed all ties with... has relations with... who has been suspected of-"

Jumping to her feet, Hermione slammed the file shut and stuffed it back into its proper place and sprinted back down between the aisles, skidding into another one.

... It's impossible.

---

Seven long hours later a bleary eyed Hermione was on the lift, patiently waiting to step out into the Atrium. So far she'd avoided all contact with everyone, that is, until the lift doors opened on the sixth floor and a rather stumpy wizard stepped in beside her. He was looking extrememly sour considering how he'd mutter to himself. But nevertheless he turned to eye Hermione critically then faced the gates again.

"You work too much," he told her matter of factly. "Not fit for such young a witch... You should be out there with some boyfriend of the week enjoyin' yerself."

"I'll keep that in mind," she muttered under her breath as they stepped out into the Atrium.

"Aye, best you should!" he called out behind her.

---

"And..." began a rather bored looking witch at the front desk. "You're here to see...?"

"Ms. Brown," Hermione replied rather calm. "Lavendar Brown. I'm a regular around here."

The witch gave her a once over and continued to fiddle with her nails.

"Well, I apologize, Miss- Granger- but no one is allowed beyond this point of the Daily Prophet without a proper appointment or employment identification."

"She might as well work here what with all the help she's given us," said a man coming up behind Hermione. He looked incredibly handsome in dark silver robes which served to bring out the specks of silver in his green eyes.

"'Afternoon, love," he said with a bow to Hermione.

"Good afternoon, Kingston," she replied.

"Give her the pass, Jane." The witch sneered up at Kingston while handing Hermione a vistor's pin with her name. With a curt nod, Kingston put a hand on Hermione's lower back and led her away towards the news room which was in its usual hustle and bustle.

"What brings you here on this lovely Sunday?" he asked cheerfully over the ruckus.

"Just came to see Lavendar," she replied keeping an eye out for said friend. She turned around to look at him properly. "And you? I specifically remember you saying something about taking a week off starting yesterday."

"Oh- well, you see- Big scoop!" he stuttered as they weaved through hustling witches and wizards.

From somewhere across the room they both heard someone shout Kingston's name. Apparantly it was the boss since he immediately left her side and called back that he'd see her later. Hermione continued to weave through desks in search of Lavendar. She passed people dictating to their quills. A few were reading their stories aloud while editing, and a large group of witches happily chattering besides several large steaming coffee pots. From amidst the gaggle of women Hermione noticed her friend in favorable mint green robes, laughing insanely at a joke while she clutched her mug of coffee in her freshly manicured hands. Feeling someone's eyes on her, she turned to see Hermione and squealed in surprise. Hermione was then vaguely reminded of how little Lavendar had changed since school.

"Hermione!" she shrieked squeazing out from the group and coming to meet her. "What on earth are you doing here?!"

"Erm, could we talk in your office?" she asked rather uncomfortably while looking at Lavendar's coworkers, all of which were glancing at her in return.

"Of course. Foillow me."

Lavendar led them across the news room once again, every so often being stopped by a person or two who'd hand her a file or ask her about her story. One wizard in particular, gave Hermione a set of nasty chills, seeing as that he bore a remarkable resemblance to a late Peter Pettigrew.

They soon stepped into a room near the end of the newsroom which was slightly cramped but still comfortable. Lavendar shuffled behind a large desk that sat in the middle of the room and started to dump several piles of paper off of it and onto the floor. She summoned over a pot of tea and cups from a cabinet behind her and served Hermione who was anxiously seated in an armchair across from her.

"So to what do I owe the pleasure?" asked Lavendar leaning back with a hot cup of tea in hand. Hermione graciously took hers and slowly sipped the scolding liquid.

"Do you remember several months ago you said you'd repay me?"

"How could I forget?" she replied happily. "If it wasn't for your lead, we would've never guessed Harold Brickback was behind all the evidence tamperings during the Malfoy trials." She took a large satisfying gulp. "Owe you a huge favor for that one, I do."

"Well," said Hermione with an unrepressed grin. "I've come to take you up on that offer."

Hermione sat her handbag on her lap and began to rumage inside its magically expanded interior. Lavendar watched curiously as she pulled out several files (top secret by the looks of them) and lay them down before her.

"You've still been keeping an eye out for dark activity?" Hermione asked cautiously. Lavendar nodded.

"Course I have- Why?" she asked quickly. Hermione could detect that small investigative fire beginning to burn in Lavendar's eyes. "You know something, don't you."

"No," she replied evasively. "I'm just trying to help out Harry with a case and you're the best resource I've got." Lavendar raised a questioning perfect eyebrow.

"He forced you to stay out of another case, didn't he?" she grinned.

"What," said Hermione in a stronger voice and acting as if Lavendar hadn't even said anything, "can you tell me about them?" She pushed the files farther before her and watched her friend's eyes spark in interest as she flipped through them.

"Oh, now you're on to something, Hermione..." She couldn't hold back a gasp as she read farther down. "Where'd you get this?!"

"I have my sources."

"Sweet Morgana," Lavendar breathed heavily. She glanced up at her anxious friend. "And there's no early information on them?"

"It's as if they appeared out of thin air." Minutes of silence passed between them while Lavendar continued to rummage through all the shocking information and its large gaping holes. "Dodgy, isn't it?"

"Very dodgy."

-----------------