Hermione Granger and the Insidious Plot

apaidan

Rating: PG
Genres: Romance, Mystery
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 14/02/2010
Last Updated: 14/02/2010
Status: completed

Something has happened and Hermione's been recalled to London from the middle of a delicate mission for the Ministry. She can't seem to find satisfactory answers anywhere, and she certainly can't seem to find one Harry James Potter. Is there a connection?

Chapters

1. Chapter One - And So It Begins

1. Chapter One - And So It Begins

Chapter One - And So It Begins

14 February, 2009, Ministry of Magic, Level Four, Centaur Liaison Office 1030 GMT

A force of nature swept into the Centaur Liaison Office from the outside corridor. While the outside doors were still swinging back and forth on their much abused hinges, the Saturday morning office staff barely glanced up at the oncoming juggernaut, except for one cheeky former Slytherin in the back of the office who's sotto voce “She's baaack” earned him a glare from the affronted witch that quickly silenced him and returned him to the report he was working on.

As the doors to the Director's office burst open Charles Francis Bethune, the office's director, looked up from his desk in mild annoyance. Refusing to quail before the enraged witch who was standing in his door, he shook his head slightly and gestured at the visitor's chair in front of his desk.

“Hermione, sit down before you burn a whole in my forehead glaring at me.”

“Francis how could you?” Standing there with a venomous look on her face, Hermione Granger brought her hand up and held it up in front of her face, thumb and forefinger mere millimeters apart. “I was this close to nailing the bastard and recovering the Spear. What on earth was so important that you recalled me and put that gormless Sayers in my place?”

Stalking across the office, Hermione stiffly sat in the indicated chair. Deliberately taking her wand and placing it behind her ear, ala Luna Weasley, she took several deep breaths in succession before shaking her head and resuming her glare.

Waving his hand, Francis shut the doors to his office and activated the extra privacy charms that protected his office when discussing something other than the status of the various centaur tribes in Britain. Laying his hand flat on a copper square on his desk, he smiled as a side table appeared next to the chair his protégé was sitting in, with another chair on the other side of it.

Getting up from behind his desk, he came around and seated himself in the newly arrived chair. Smiling as a serving tray and tea service appeared as he sat, he nodded to her.

“Caravan tea?”

“Do you have a mug rather than those teacups?” Shaking her head, Hermione took one last noisy breath and released it slowly. “Before we forget, what's my `reason' for being here today?”

“Your office is assisting in the prosecution of a squib up in the Cairngorms for harassing a sept of the centaur colony from the forests there. His contention is that since the centaurs were south of Kirriemuir, they were out of bounds and he was merely attempting to `guide' them back into the acceptable bounds of their established ranges.”

“That's rubbish and he knows it. Just because their territory is `roughly contiguous' with the muggle national park, doesn't mean `exactly the same'. Not to mention that it's been established as precedent that the centaur's notoriously fuzzy sense of artificial boundaries gives them a well established `safe zone' outside whatever we think their current tribal boundaries are.” Shaking her head, Hermione pondered the situation in her role as Chief Advocate for the Head Auror's detail.

“Which one of my advocates caught this one while you had me gallivanting around the backside of beyond?” Seeing Francis glance over as his desk and a parchment begin to make its way towards him, she chuckled as she poured herself a mug of tea.

“O'Reilly, I believe.” Looking down at the parchment, Francis smiled as she helped herself to a scone, liberally slathering it with butter. “Young Liza asked for the assignment, and Cara obliged her. It's set to go to trial on Monday, officially I'm just expressing the concerns of the centaur prophetess regarding the situation. She's full of dire portents regarding the intensity of the Northern Lights.”

“Merlin only knows what that will mean.” Smiling and nodding her head, she sighed. “I do apologize for the dramatic entrance, but what was so bloody important that you had me recalled? Honestly, I was about an hour away from nailing that slimy bastard's stones to the wall and recovering the Spear.”

Ignoring the cheeky urge to reprove her for her choice of language, Francis watched her as she took a couple of bites of the scone she had chosen. Waiting until she had finished with that, he nodded apologetically.

“Your status updates were meticulous, as always. I'm certain Sayers will be able to finish up where you left off and recover the Spear.” Seeing the mutinous look in her eyes, he shrugged. “You do remember that you argued against accepting this assignment back when I first broached it, don't you?”

“Of course I do. I still maintain that the charms that we placed on all of the various copies of old Longinius' spear were sufficient to keep the fact that they're all copies or hoaxes from being revealed. As soon as anyone casts any sort of charm on anyone of them, they're portkeyed back to their muggle spot.” Shaking her head, Hermione smiled wryly. “I do imagine that the curator of the Vatican archives is getting a tad suspicious, though. At last count, their copy has moved itself back down to its holding bin twelve times now?”

“Thirteen, I believe. The last we heard from the assistant that we planted on his staff was that he's come to believe it's the genuine thing and therefore `something not to be mucked around with'. The Prefect of the Congregation of the Doctrine of the Faith is recommending that an official policy of `look but don't touch' be established.” Ignoring Hermione's muttered “No one expects the Spanish Inquisition”, he smiled and took a sip of tea.

“So you can see why I'm a bit taken aback at your dramatic entrance to my humble office this morning. I thought you'd be more than happy to be relieved of this small task.”

“Francis I've spent over a month tracking down this rotter, a task made more difficult by the fact I can't just pop in on him since we don't want that particular copy reappearing in whatever hidden bolthole those Neo-Nazis were hiding it in. Our muggle counterparts at MI6 wouldn't thank us if those cretins actually got off their repugnant arses and thought the Spear of Destiny miraculously returning to them was a sign for them to become more active than they already are.

Thank Merlin Voldemort never realized that that Grindelwald's muggle stooge was actually a near-squib that we had locked up in Azkaban since the end of the war. I can just imagine the panic that would have ensued if he turned up alive and well somewhere.”

“MI5 would be less than thrilled also, and I've already said you did an exemplary job considering the constraints you were under.”

“Are we getting close to why you recalled me?” Starting to relax, Hermione leaned back in her chair and cradled the mug of hot tea between her hands. “Whatever it is you want me to do, I'm sufficiently jollied along to listen.” Taking a sip, she closed her eyes. “But, I can't be away from my desk full-time for an extended period. Cara's getting a bit cranky taking polyjuice a couple of times a day to keep up the charade that I'm in my office. And there are a few personal things I don't think I should let linger, either.”

“Actually, the Minister's Office asked that you be recalled. Both your boss at DMLE and the Mistress of the Order signed off on it.”

“What does Kingsley need me back here in London to baby-sit? Aloysius should be able to handle anything with someone onsite, unless it's cross-jurisdictional.” As one of a relatively small handful of Ministry Advocates that were accepted as barristers before the Queen's Bench, Hermione had been discretely assigned to muggle cases that threatened to impinge upon the Statutes of Secrecy over the years.

“Actually, the Minister of Magic, the Head of DMLE and the Mistress of the Order called me into a conference late last evening and informed me that you, and I quote, `had been burning the candle at both ends for quite long enough and it's time we gave the poor witch a break, whether she wants it or not'.”

“You're joking?” Eyes popping open, Hermione sat straight up in her seat. “I'll admit I'm not as caught up on my accrued holiday time as some, but it hasn't been that long since we were on holiday.”

“True. You and your Mister Potter went on `holiday' back in December for the week between Christmas and the end of the year.” Nodding graciously, Francis smiled as Hermione nodded in return. “Of course, the fact the pair of you spent the time tracking down that crew that was trafficking in elves smuggled out of the highlands of Anatolia might lead some of your superiors, other than myself of course, to suspect that the two of you were less on holiday and more on `detached duty'.”

“We got seven convictions out of that little vacation and we liberated two dozen elves. Not bad for kipping late and lollygagging about.” Shaking her head, she scowled. “And, for the record, Harry's not `my Mister Potter'.”

Ignoring the amused look that Francis gave her, she slumped back in her chair. “How long?”

“How long hasn't he been `your Mister Potter'?”

“You know what I meant, how long am I banished for?”

“I'm not certain about that, but by decree of the Minster of Magic and the Mistress of the Order of the Phoenix, you're on a sabbatical month beginning Monday.”

“A month?”

“A lunar month, to be precise. They don't want to see an official trace of you until the 16th of March. The Minister said that you were welcome to drop by the residence for tea if you like, but if he finds out you've been in your offices, he'll go to Plan `B'.”

“Which is?” Hermione stared at her usually unflappable handler, studying the look in his eyes. She was prepared for anything but the combination of confusion and pity that she saw there.

“I'm certain I don't know what she meant by this, but Luna said she'd drop by Oxford and Surrey to have a little chat with your mother and Harry's aunt. Something about catching them up regarding New Years?”

Smiling blandly, Francis watched, as Hermione turned very pale and her eyes went wide. Waiting, he did a silent ten-count as the brunette witch's color slowly returned to normal.

“Everything all right?”

After staring at him intently for several seconds, Hermione nodded slowly. Closing her eyes for a moment, she visibly squared her shoulders and then opened them. A very faint smile ghosted across her lips.

“Perfectly fine. I suppose I'll be seeing you in March, then. If anything comes up…” Trailing off at the look he was giving her, she sighed. “I'll drop by the house sometime after I suss out exactly what's going on. Why everyone in the Ministry seems to have taken leave of their senses at once.” Seeing the raised eyebrow reaction to that last remark, she blushed and hastily amended. “Present company excepted, of course.”

“Of course. Tabitha has been asking about you, I'll let you know you'll be dropping by, if you find the time during the next month.” Standing, Francis smiled warmly as Hermione stood, still shaking her head. Walking with her, he escorted her to the outer door and watched her walk down the corridor to the lifts, apparently still in a bit of shock over the events that had just transpired.

After she disappeared from sight, he chuckled as he returned to his office. Once safely inside, he summoned his patronus. Smiling as the silvery fox watched him with an amused look on its face, he felt a sense of accomplishment.

“Tell him that Phase One is complete, and the Otter is in route.”

As the fox grinned in anticipation and faded from view, he returned to his desk. Activating the floo in his office, he proceeded to ensure that his wife's favorite restaurant in Aberdeen did indeed have their reservations for tonight. One couldn't be too careful about some things.

-----

14 February, 2009, Chief Auror's Advocate's Office, Ministry of Magic, 1315 GMT

After spending a fruitless hour and a half trying to get someone in her own office at DMLE to tell her something, anything, about the status of cases in the queue, her own assistant Cara Smithers was summoned from home to deal with her.

Arriving armed with a warrant signed by the current Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Cara very politely, but very firmly, informed her that her official presence was neither requested nor desired until the 16th of March. Cara continued by noting that she was relatively certain that she could count on the members of Auror Team Twelve, formerly led by Harry and currently lead by her husband Horace, to politely escort her from the building if she persisted in ignoring the inevitable.

Seeing the shock in Hermione's eyes, Cara shrugged and gave her a `what's a poor witch to do' look.

“Hermione, I'm just as mystified as you are. Horace and I got called into Kingsley's office about half nine last night and asked if there's anything that would absolutely require your or Harry's presence for the next month. Thinking they were going to send you two off on some diplomatic mission again, I told them `no'.

You could have knocked me over with a hippogriff feather when Luna proceeded to tell us that they're putting both of you on the shelf for the next month, no ifs ands or buts.” Shaking her head, Cara smiled mysteriously. “They still haven't found Harry, he was doing something undercover, but they've brevetted Ron out of Team Seven to step in as Head Auror for the next four weeks.”

Seeing Hermione was about to start questioning her, she shook her head. “I don't know where Harry's got himself off to, the only thing MacTavish could tell us from Harry's duty log was he is currently involved in something code-named `Buttercup'.”

“Buttercup?” Narrowing her eyes and biting her lip, Hermione thought for a second before turning her bewildered expression back to her assistant. “That's a new one, we've not discussed anything remotely like that. I'll admit I've been out of the loop for a bit, but if he were planning something big…”

“I'm certain whatever it is, he's probably just laying some groundwork for a larger operation and he'll need your input as soon as he gets back.” Smiling gently, Cara made a shooing motion towards the office door. “Everything is under control. Aloysius said to tell you that he'll sneak you a message if anything comes too unglued while you're gone, but he's certain that the rest of the Department can handle things in your absence.” Shaking her head at the pains the Director was taking to keep Hermione calm about her enforced time off, Cara saw the look of resignation in her eyes.

“You'll let me know if the wheels come off?” Seeing Cara's amused nod, Hermione smiled sourly. “If I can't find Harry, do you think Horace will mind if I drop by tonight for some suggestions?”

“Hermione, if you can't find Harry, then the boy can't be found. I'm certain you'll turn him up before the day is over.” Shaking her head, Cara began walking her towards the door. “Horace and I have plans for dinner tonight, but you're welcome to drop by for brunch tomorrow if you're still unable to locate our Head Auror.”

Waving off Hermione's offer to apologize to the staff, Cara assured her she would take care of everything. After Hermione was gone and Cara had congratulated the staff on their handling of their portion of the operation, she went back into Hermione's office.

Taking her DA medallion, she keyed a short message to a specific individual. “Phase Two a go. Otter in motion.”

Grinning, Cara used Hermione's private floo to return home to get ready for tonight.

-----

14 February, 2009, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, London 1640 GMT

“Kreacher? Teddy?”

Standing in the sitting room of Number 12, Hermione was brushing herself off after returning via floo following an apparently fruitless search for one Harry James Potter. Kreacher's earlier vague assurance that `Master Harry wasn't in' was unusually unforthcoming for him, but he had a few suggestions as to where she might look for him.

Unfortunately, other than finding out that for some unknown reason everyone they knew seemed to have plans for this evening, no one had seen hide nor hair of Harry recently. Griphook was the only exception, but all he could tell her was that Harry had been standing outside the door when the bank had opened in the morning, gone down to his vault and then left fairly quickly.

“Hey Mum.”

Hermione's musing regarding her wild goose chase was interrupted as her godson entered the room. Smiling brilliantly, Teddy Lupin was sporting Harry's trademark hair and green eyes, but other than that, the ten-year-old was genuinely happy to see her.

Rushing over, he dropped the bag he was carrying and wrapped her up in a hug.

“Missed you terribly. And Dad's been right mental since you left.”

“I missed you too cub.” Ruffling his hair and chuckling at the sight of it returning to its `proper' state of disarray as soon as she withdrew her hand, she smiled warmly. “Speaking of your father, he didn't tell you where he'd gotten himself off to, did he?”

“Last night he told me that something had come up that needed taking care of.” Seeing the questioning look on his mum's face, Teddy looked a bit confused. “Something about `something that should have been resolved ages ago'. I figured you'd know what he was talking about. All I know is that he made arrangements for me to stay at the Burrow tonight since he didn't think you'd be home yet.” Looking a bit crestfallen, Teddy eyed the carrybag he had dropped in his happiness at seeing her. “Can I still go? Vic and I are looking forward to spending time at the Burrow this weekend.”

“You two behave yourselves and don't give Arthur and Molly any grief, but there's no reason why you can't go. Just because I haven't seen you in over a month…”

“Mum! We'd made plans, and you know how she gets when things change on her. She's not the most flexible girl in the world.”

“True, but I'd advise not mentioning that particular observation to young Victoire if I were you.”

“Dad's fairly free with making observations about things you do.”

“True, but I'm not nine, and that does make a slight difference.” Shaking her head, Hermione chuckled at the look her godson was giving her. “Just a friendly bit of advice. Why's Victoire at the Burrow this weekend?”

“Her folks are in Paris for the weekend, so she's staying with Weasleys. I was going to go earlier, but Dad said I had to finish up that chapter in Hogwarts: A History before I left and I was up too late on the floo with her last night to finish it.”

Seeing Kreacher standing in the doorway, she nodded to him before turning her attention back to Teddy.

“Go, have some fun, and don't tease that witch too badly. She's only a year behind you, so you'll have to deal with her, while you're in school.”

“Honestly Mum, we're best mates, just like you and Dad. The only trick will be convincing her she can't stow away in my school trunk next fall when I go to Hogwarts.” Shaking his head, Teddy scooped up his bag, kissed Hermione on the cheek and rushed over to the floo.

Taking a pinch of floo powder from the container by the hearth, he tossed it in flames. As the flames took on their customary green colouring, he cast a quick “Later Kreacher, love you Mum” over his shoulder before announcing “The Burrow” right before launching himself into the flames.

Shaking her head, Hermione walked over to where the house-elf was waiting. Seeing the amused look on his face, she sighed.

“I don't think I was ever that rambunctious. How have you been Kreacher?”

“Very well, Mistress. And from what Mistress Black says, young Nymphadora was much the same when she was ten.”

“Careful Kreacher. Even house-elves aren't immune from the penalties from using `The Name That Must Not Be Named'.”

“I suppose that's part of the price we pay for equality.” Seeing the questioning look on her face he shook his head. “And before you ask, Master Harry didn't inform me of his plans. All he said was that it was something that needed resolution. He also instructed me to tell you that if you came home before he returned, his suggestion was for you to go to the cottage and wait.”

“Kreacher, that doesn't make any sense.” Furiously thinking, Hermione could think of no reason why Harry would `suggest' that she wait for him at Peregrine House, the cottage that the two of them had purchased on one of the islands in Loch Maree up in Scotland. Unless…

“Kreacher, how much trouble is he in? If he's sending me off to somewhere that's unplottable and only a handful of our closest friends can even find, there's more going on here than meets the eye.” Carefully studying her longtime friend, Hermione could see that if he knew more than he was telling her, his loyalties to Harry were keeping him from divulging it.

“Kreacher, I'm sorry if I'm putting you in a spot, but if he needs help, I've got to go find him.”

“He didn't think you'd accept his suggestion, so he asked me to remind you that he trusts you to do what he needs done.” Seeing the look on her face, Kreacher relented a bit. “He was speaking with Mistress McGonagall before he left, perhaps she could assist you where I can't”

Leaning over, Hermione hugged Kreacher and then knelt beside him.

“I know he means well, but he's going to drive me mental with his need to protect me. I promise I won't say anything, I'll tell Minerva that I had `hoped' she had spoken to him recently.”

Standing and looking around, Hermione glanced over at the floo. “I think the quickest way will be to floo to Hogsmeade and then impose upon Miss Dumbledore for a shortcut to the castle.” Smiling warmly at Kreacher, Hermione rolled her eyes. “Kreacher, would you do me a favor and pack me a small overnight bag and drop it by the cottage? I hate to lose any more time trying to track that boy down.”

“My pleasure Mistress. If Master Harry returns to Grimmauld Place, I'll send word immediately.”

Smiling her thanks, Hermione hurried back over to the floo. As the flames turned green, she called out “The Hog's Head” and disappeared into the flames.

After the flames had returned to normal, Kreacher shook his head and laughed. Turning a bit, he called out “Winky?”

A subtle `pop' heralded the arrival of the household's other elf. Composing himself, Kreacher nodded to his companion.

“Winky, take the bag we prepared earlier to the cottage. Tell him that the Otter is following the breadcrumbs.” Seeing the look on her face, Kreacher shrugged.

“Much too complicated. Master and Missus making this way too complex. I thought you said they'd resolved this at Hogmanay?”

“Apparently there are still a couple of small details to work out, but this should see the end of it. Remember…”

“Yes, yes. Otter is eating the breadcrumbs. I'm not a pixie, I know what I'm doing.”

Giving Kreacher a glare, Winky disappeared with a slightly louder `pop'.

------

14 February, 2009, Outside Peregrine House, Eilean Ruairidh Mor, Scotland 1915 GMT

Landing in a foul mood just outside the fence that bordered the small garden outside the cottage, Hermione Granger was a witch in the mood to hex something. Preferably the very absent Harry Potter, but at this time anything would do.

Shaking her head, Hermione placed her hand on the gate that separated her from the flagstone walk that lead to he door of the cottage. The homey exterior of the six-room cottage that the two of them had acquired years ago failed to lighten her mood. Muttering to herself, she was torn between being worried about the missing wizard and wanting to hex him for putting her through this.

Minerva had no idea where he was, but remembered him saying something about talking to Aberforth. Chuckling at the irony since she had spoken to him fifteen minutes earlier when she had arrived at the Hog's Head, she retraced her steps back to the Room of Requirement and took Ariana's passage back to the slightly seedy pub.

From there, Aberforth had sent her to seek out Ollivander, who remembered that Harry had spoke to him about wand congruencies, and he had suggested that the raven-haired wizard speak to Muriel Crouch.

Aunt Muriel, while happy to see Hermione, well as happy to see her as Muriel ever got, was on her way out to have dinner with Aberforth, but she had spoken to Harry and she had sent him to speak with Horace Slughorn.

Tracking down Horace was less of a problem than Harry and Professor Dumbledore had had the summer before their sixth year, but by the time she had tracked him down to a townhome he had `borrowed' in Kent, he was going out to a Slugclub soiree.

Politely declining his offer for her to accompany him, she did find out that he had sent Harry to speak with the Chief Potions-Mistress at St. Mungo's.

The hospital's Potions-Mistress, one Aoife Kilraith, wasn't in, but the duty potions personnel had her contact information. Hermione was able to floo her and caught the witch in question just as she was leaving for the evening.

Cutting short the explanation of how she had answered the questions Harry had regarding the miscibility of a pair of potions; Hermione was able to determine that Harry had indicated he was going to be speaking to Mundungus Fletcher.

Still reeking of the odors that permeated The Silent Witch, one of the seedier establishments in Knockturn Alley, Hermione had been able to `convince' Dung to tell her where Harry had planned on going.

Since it was already dark, Hermione decided a quick stop at the cottage for a shower would be in order before heading off to Loch Ness. Not certain why Harry would be heading off to Urquhart Castle tonight, but if she could catch up with him there she was going to have some answers, will he nil he.

Caught up in her own thoughts, she didn't notice that the lights were on in the cottage until she had placed her hand on the doorknob. Deciding that she wasn't going to say anything to Kreacher about it, she opened the door and stepped inside. And stared.

The cottage was filled with flowers. Looking around, Hermione could see all of her favorites, and some she had never seen before. Shaking her head, she stepped into the front room and quietly closed the door behind her.

Candlelight was coming from the dining area, and as she drew closer, she could hear noises coming from the kitchen.

The table was set for two, with candles lit and the place settings already out. Taking a deep breath, she could smell the distinctive scent of one her favorite dishes, Costolette di agnello.

Staring in amazement, something sitting in the middle of the plate at her place at the table caught her eye. In the midst of the china plate sat one of those small candy hearts, with something underneath it.

Picking up the candy heart, she held it up so she could make out the message on it in the flickering candlelight. Just as she read the message `Be Mine', she realized what was sitting beneath the candy on the plate.

A ring.

Not just any ring, but an engagement ring.

Not just any engagement ring, but the ring that James Potter had given to Lily Evans the night he asked her to marry him thirty years ago.

Suddenly, as if a lightning bolt had hit her, she realized what today was. And if today was Valentine's Day, James had proposed thirty years this very night.

“Kreacher, she should be here soon. Dung said that he finally told her about Urquhart…”

Coming through the kitchen door, Harry stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Hermione, standing there, staring at the engagement ring in her hand.

Staring at each other, both were lost in the eyes of the other for several minutes. Finally shaking her head, eyes bright with unshed tears, Hermione sighed.

“Urquhart in the middle of the night?”

“The lamb won't be done for another seven minutes?”

“Harry James Potter, I've been looking for you all damn day. Have you anything to say for yourself?”

Smiling at her, Harry gave her his lopsided grin that always seemed to work, in spite of her protestations to the contrary. “That all depends.”

“Depends upon what?”

“Whether or not you're going to say `yes'.” Holding his breath, Harry watched as she turned her attention back to the small heart shaped confection in her hand.

“This is so you.” Shaking her head, Hermione missed the crestfallen look on Harry's face in reaction. Looking up, she took a deep breath.

“Merlin, I was shaking my head over how incredibly `you' this whole thing was. Of course I'm going to marry you. After eighteen years you think I'm going to miss my only chance to end up with Witch Weekly's `Most Eligible Bachelor' for 499 consecutive weeks?”

“Five hundred seems like a nice round number. What say we stay up here for a week and not let anyone know until after the next issue comes out?” Coming over to her, Harry gently wrapped his arms around her. “Are you certain?”

“Never more certain of anything.” Seeing the look on his face, she smiled and kissed him. “Are you at least going to put the ring on my finger, or must I do everything myself?”

Taking the ring, Harry dropped to one knee and placed the ring against the tip of her ring finger. Looking up, he waited until she nodded before slipping the ring slowly into place.

“Thirty years ago tonight, this ring sealed the love of James Potter and Lily Evans. As much as they loved each other, I truly believe it doesn't hold a candle to the love we have. My only regret is that it took us so long to realize that this was where we should be.”

“Harry, I don't regret a day that I've known you. It took us as long as it took us.” Smiling brilliantly at him, she nodded as he stood. Slipping her arms around him, she started to kiss him when a strange look came over her.

“You go rescue the dinner, the lamb is done. I'll pour the wine and we can discus this to our heart's content.”

Seeing the panicked look on Harry's face as he rushed into the kitchen, Hermione began laughing as she moved over to the sideboard to select a wine for their dinner.

-----

Snuggled together on the loveseat in the cottage's library, they both were drowsily watching the fire in the fireplace as they sipped the last of the wine. Putting her glass carefully on the table in front of them, Hermione slipped her hand behind Harry's head and pulled him closer.

Kissing him, the two became lost in the kiss as it intensified. When the need for oxygen finally forced the pair to pause, Hermione's eyes were shining in the firelight.

“Harry?”

“Yes love?”

“Why didn't you ask me New Years?”

“Even for us, I thought that might have been a bit odd.” Seeing the look on her face, Harry blushed. “Let's face it, we got back the morning of the 31st, dropped our prisoners off at the Ministry and went to lunch. By the time we got the parchment work done on them, it was dinnertime.

We flooed back to the house, had Indian takeaway for dinner and were reading in the library when we realized from all of the noise out on the street it was midnight on New Years.”

“I know, I joked that you owed me a New Year's kiss, and things progressed from there.” Shaking her head, she blushed at the memory of how they had both realized that this was what they had been looking for. “You could have asked then, I would have said yes.”

“I was hoping we'd actually have something resembling an actual date so I could propose properly. But between our jobs…”

“Tonight was the first time we've been in the same place, not on duty, since then.” Shaking her head, she watched him warily. “Exactly what did you have to promise everyone to get them to assist you in this charade?”

“Actually, nothing.” Seeing the look of disbelief on her face, he held up his hand. “I'll swear any oath. Even the hint that `Never-ending Saga of Harry & Hermione' was coming to an end was enough to get everyone's full cooperation.”

“Never-ending saga?”

“Don't look at me, that's what George has been calling it since the fall after the Battle.”

The pair of them settled back comfortably in the loveseat, listening to the fire pop and the sounds of the old cottage settling in the night. Finally Hermione asked one last question.

“Buttercup? Please don't tell me you were thinking Gilbert & Sullivan when you named this little plan.”

“Nah, I got the idea from that series of muggle books I read last summer?” Seeing the mystified look on her face, he shrugged. “The American ones?”

“Those? And exactly what in that space opera made you call this `Operation Buttercup'?”

“It was more the intent, but tonight was my shot at getting the initiative back that we started with at New Years. We'd both let ourselves get distracted with work…”

“And since we have nothing we have to do until mid March?”

“You read my mind.”

Last one upstairs…”

Twin apparition `pops' left the library empty as the sound of laughter rang out in the upstairs of the small cottage.

-----

A/N - A Happy and Harmonious Valentine's Day to everyone.

The usual disclaimers, anything recognizable is the property of JKR and various corporate interests with the following exceptions:

Any references to the Spanish Inquisition belong to those wonderful folks at Monty Python

While Gilbert and Sullivan's work is firmly in the public domain, my hat is off to them for giving the world such wonderful works.

At the end, Harry and Hermione are referencing David Weber's `Honor Harrington' series, published by Baen Books.

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