She woke before the sun was up; when the only sounds were the crashing tide and Ron's snores, even through two doors. Harry slept next to her and actually looked relaxed. One hand rested on her hip, the other outstretched and loose. She slid out of bed and padded to the pack she had left out yesterday.
The air was cool, and she quickly shucked off the jersey and found a jumper and jeans to put on before grabbing her holster and boots and managed to slip out the door undetected.
The kitchen felt cold, unused, and lonely. Instead of taking the time to start a fire and put the kettle on she conjured a cup of tea. It wasn't the same, but it would do.
Warmth started to seep back into her fingertips where her hand wrapped around the mug. Grabbing the same jacket she'd used the night before, she went to push the door open and ran into Harry's wards.
Of course he'd put wards on an unplottable house.
Pulling her wand out, she dropped the wards for a second to step out and then brought them up again.
Pinky grays were hinting on the horizon with just enough light to see by. She sat on the driftwood again, knees drawn up to her chest, and didn't bother to brush away the stray hair that kept getting blown into her face.
She sat, enjoying the relative silence, hoping that maybe she could force herself to like this place. Her tea was almost gone when a muffled, "Bloody hell," from behind her announced Ron's arrival.
He practically collapsed next to her. "Tripped on a damn rock. It's too bloody early to be out here," he grumbled, and she merely conjured him a mug of tea.
"Then why are you?" she asked.
She felt him shrug. "Sensed the wards go down; figured someone was up. And the blasted birds are too loud," he said, referring to the ever screeching sea gulls that soared overhead.
"Harry must be up then," Hermione observed. If Ron had felt the wards drop then Harry certainly had.
He shrugged again. "Didn't see him," Ron said and they sat in silence drinking their tea.
"What did you say to him?" she asked suddenly, the image of the two of them in front of the cottage the day before in her mind.
Ron, to his credit, knew exactly what she referenced. "Bloke stuff."
She turned and arched one eyebrow, letting him know that was not an acceptable answer. Ron continued, "Don't look at me like that. It was a conversation between two blokes, about things blokes talk about, and seeing as you're not a bloke, I'm not telling, so stop asking," he stated so confidently it took her aback.
Her gaze returned to the sea. "I'll just ask Harry," even though she knew she wouldn't, and Ron didn't respond because he knew she wouldn't either.
The sun was up now and the low clouds had burned off, leaving the impression that the day may be gifted with some warmth. Their mugs empty, she vanished them before rising without comment, then headed back up the path, Ron at her heels.
The wards were down when they arrived at the door and the smell of a proper fry-up welcomed them into the now bright and warm kitchen.
"Blimey, Harry!" Ron exclaimed, practically bowling her over in his rush to the stove. Hermione had barely shed her coat before Ron had acquired a plate and headed for the table.
Shaking her head in mock exasperation she went to Harry's side and stretched up to kiss his cheek. "Good morning."
"Morning, luv," he replied, flipping an egg before returning her kiss.
"Sorry if I woke you; I didn't realize you had put wards up," she said, while snitching a crumble of bacon off a nearby platter.
"No worries," Harry assured her, as he dished more food than she knew she could eat onto a plate and held it out to her.
She gave him a look and went to join Ron at the table. Harry soon finished with the pan and sat to her left.
"What's next?" Ron asked around a mouthful, and Hermione did her best to not chide him.
Harry laid his fork down before answering. "We'll keep researching. I need to contact Bill and see if he can't start getting me some information from Gringotts. I should also touch base with Kingsley, I think those incidents we've found in the papers are only part of the story. He may be able to get us some more intelligence."
"What do you need to know about Gringotts?" Ron asked, this time making sure he swallowed first.
"I don't know if it's anything, but I think it might be where Hermione was made. There is a chance someone saw her in the street, but she's right when she says the time it took them to access her vault seemed off. That could have been on purpose, delaying her long enough to set everything else in motion," Harry explained. She wondered if that was true; if while she was waiting, orders were being given to attack the Burrow and Harry and send those three assailants after her. A shiver went through her and Harry laid a hand on her knee.
"It could be a coincidence, but Bill knows who has been hired since the war; if anyone has seemed off or suspicious. I just don't want him to compromise his job," Harry said worriedly.
Ron nodded. "Bill will be fine. He works with goblins so he's good at the whole diplomacy thing."
"I hope you're right," Harry said and then picked his fork back up to finish his meal; though by the way he was more pushing the food around than eating she knew he was bothered.
Hermione finished first and went to do the washing up. Harry came up behind her to drop his plate in the sink and brushed a kiss over her hair. "We'll meet you in the office. I'm going to try and get a hold of Bill before he goes in this morning."
She smiled her acknowledgement and could hear them make their way down the hall.
For some reason she chose to do the dishes by hand, although ironically she had to conjure dish soap as it seemed Fleur didn't keep any. The hot water and repetitive motions allowed her mind to go blank, and she lost track of time staring out the window at the waves.
A sharp rap at the side door broke her reverie and made her jump. The plate she had been washing fell back into the sudsy water with a plop. But a second later her hands were dry and her wand was out, even if her heart was thudding in her chest. How could someone be knocking on the door of an unplottable house?
The wards were down and Harry and Ron were in the front part of the house; they wouldn't have heard the knock. If she called out, whoever was at the door would hear her and know she wasn't Fleur. She considered just waiting them out but the rapping continued, and they even jiggled the handle.
Hermione could only think of one option, and when a silvery doe jumped out of her wand she almost fell on the floor; her patronus had changed. The delicate creature stood waiting for her command and Hermione could only gasp out, "Side door," before it lowered its head and scampered down the hallway.
Harry's frantic crack of apparation almost brought down a shelf full of dishes and Ron was right behind him. Both of them had their wands out and Harry grabbed her by the shoulders. "Are you alright?"
"Fine. Sorry. I didn't know of another way to alert you," she explained, and told them of the visitor. "But there is no way they've missed the smoke coming from the flue; they know someone's here."
"Who could know about this place?" Harry asked, now hearing for himself the incessant rapping.
"Could be someone from the village, although I don't think Bill and Fleur go there much," Ron supplied.
Harry took a moment and then turned to her. " `Mione, I was talking to Bill through the mirror, go ask him if anyone here knows about the house." She raced down the hallway, his voice fading into the background as he instructed Ron to call out to the person outside.
The mirror was lying on the desk face up and she could still hear Bill on the other side calling out. "Harry! Ron! What's happened? Is anyone there?"
She grabbed the mirror and held it up. "Hermione! Thank Merlin! I was talking to Harry and then he looked like something had scared him to death and vanished."
"No time," she said quickly, waving him off. "There is someone knocking on your door. The door of the house that is supposed to be unplottable." She tried to keep her voice calm, but the reality of the situation was a bit overwhelming.
Bill blanched for a moment and then his eyes got wide. "I'm sorry. It's Old man Graham. He's a Squib. Lives about three miles up the road and comes to check in on Fleur and the girls sometimes when I'm gone. He's harmless. I should have redone the Fidelius, but he's truly the only other one who knows where we are."
Hermione cut him off. "You're sure, Bill? You're absolutely sure he's safe?"
"He's lived there for over thirty years. I can't imagine that he's not." Hermione saw a hint of doubt creep into his face: That's what the war did to you.
Her eyes locked with his and then she dropped the mirror and tore back to the kitchen. She could hear Ron calling through the door, saying he was Bill's brother. Harry stood off to the side, with a clear shot of the doorway when it was open.
She brought herself to a halt at his elbow, slightly breathless. "Bill says he's a neighbor. Comes by every now and then. Name's Graham; a Squib. Bill said he's the only one who knows about the house."
Harry looked at her hard. "Is he ok?"
"From what Bill says, yes, but..." she trailed off. They knew all too well that it was easy to be deceived.
"Ron, open the door and tell him you're watching the place for Bill and Fleur. Then get rid of him," Harry instructed, his voice low. He kept his wand trained on the door. Hermione joined him, trying to stay out of the line of sight.
Ron nodded stiffly, wand by his leg. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door only wide enough to see the man. Hermione's view was completely blocked so she couldn't see anything but a few tufts of white hair sticking out of what could have been a tweed cap.
"The Missus around?" Graham said, his voice taking on that quality of someone who doesn't hear all that well anymore.
"Sorry sir, Bill and Fleur are on holiday right now," Ron answered evenly, but Hermione could see the nervous tick in his jaw.
"On holiday?" he repeated, confusion evident in his tone.
"Yes sir. Sorry you missed them," Ron said and began to shut the door.
"Now wait a minute, laddie," Graham protested, his burr more pronounced.
Harry tensed, and hissed at Ron, "Get rid of him, now!"
"So sorry sir, um, pots boiling over. Got to go." And with a slam, the door was shut and Harry had raised the wards again.
Ron turned around and slumped against the door. "Who the hell is he?"
"Neighbor. Squib. Bill says he's harmless," Hermione answered, watching as Harry shoved Ron out of the way to watch Graham retreat all the way up the path, away from the cottage.
When he presumably lost sight of the man, Harry lowered his wand and turned back to them. He didn't say anything, just re-holstered his wand and headed back to the office. Hermione knew he was too keyed up. Knowing him, he was probably ready to pack up and leave immediately due to the barest hint that their location had been compromised.
"Give him a few minutes," she said to Ron before she returned to the last of the dishes she had been working on earlier.
When she entered the office ten minutes later, Harry was sitting at the desk, studying a stack of papers, the magical floating map having been moved closer so he could see it more easily.
Ron sat sprawled in one of the chairs, legs in more directions than seemed physically possible, and gave her a long suffering look when she came in. She gathered the look was to inform her that Harry was still in a mood, and he would appreciate it if she could fix it.
Harry didn't even look in her direction as she approached. He pulled a quill and parchment from the drawer and, after consulting the notes, began writing. When she was next to him she could see it was a letter to Kingsley requesting information on the incidents they had found and any others that may be of importance.
Hermione gathered the newspapers and set them aside so she could slide backwards and sit on the edge of the desk. Harry still didn't say anything, but she thought she saw the side of his mouth quirk up slightly at her action.
After what seemed like an hour, but was probably nowhere near that amount of time, she was still sitting there, feet swinging silently, trying to resist the urge to drum her fingers on the wood beneath her. She refused to turn around and look at Ron, who was no doubt smirking. Harry finished the parchment and rolled it up, tapping the letter with his wand to seal it so that only Kingsley could open it.
Finally she had to speak. "How are you going to..." But she didn't have to finish her question because Fawkes appeared on Harry's shoulder. The phoenix plucked the roll from Harry's fingers and vanished as quickly as he arrived.
Harry leaned back in the chair and steepled his fingers together, trying to look imperious and failing miserably. She fixed him with a glare and opened her mouth to begin what would most likely have ended up a lecture, but before she could speak his hands had shot out, grasped her about the waist, and hauled her into his lap.
Stifling a surprised shriek, she put her hands on his chest to steady herself and looked down at his pleased expression. A disgusted grumble and heavy footsteps let her know that Ron had left the room.
Hermione tried to scowl at Harry, but it was short lived as wandering hands had found their way under her jumper. She decided that kissing him was a much better use of her time than berating him. When Harry apparated them directly to the bedroom she didn't complain either.
When they came back down, they found Ron in the office working on the map. He gave them a disgusted look. "There truly must be dark forces at work, because I never thought I'd see the day where Hermione Granger shirked off research for a quick shag."
Hermione thought about charming a book to fly across the room and thump him on the head, but instead went with her instinct as she stuck her tongue out at him. The look on Ron's face was worth the small amount of dignity she had lost with the action.
Their afternoon was spent much like the one before. She had a better idea of what to focus on and began trying to acquaint herself with the history of magic in areas outside of Great Britain. She realized their education at Hogwarts had been lacking in this area.
She took her last two potions that night without complaint, but begged off the sleeping draught. When Harry curled around her he whispered in her ear "Your patronus changed." There was no hiding the pride evident in his voice. She flushed immediately and whispered back "Oh hush up, you." but she was smiling.
Three hours later when she woke with a muffled scream and the image of three faceless men in black looming over her she regretted the decision to skip the draught. She also realized that Harry wasn't in bed.
The wards were still up and his boots were sitting next to the bed so she didn't think he had left the house. Grabbing her wand and the light weight shawl draped over the back of the rocker, she made her way down the hallway, absently noting that she didn't hear Ron's snoring.
Halfway down the stairs she could hear low noises coming from the kitchen. Her wand up, she crept silently past the office until she could make out Ron and Harry talking in low tones. Her wand dropped and her shoulders slouched in relief.
Hermione pushed open the door and saw them at the table, a packet of files and papers strewn about, along with mugs of tea and the remnants of some sort of baked good Ron had no doubt polished off.
Harry gave her a tired smile. "Hello, luv. Sorry if we woke you." She thought about telling him about the dream, but didn't want to worry him. "Why didn't you wake me?" she asked, heading to the still warm kettle and fixing herself a cup of tea.
"Fawkes arrived about an hour ago. I didn't want to disturb you," he explained.
She nodded, sipping at her tea, and slipped into the chair beside him. Looking at Ron from the corner of her eye, she asked, "So why are you up?" She knew Ron didn't get out of bed in the middle of the night for anything.
"This wanker decided..." but he cut himself off and she whipped her head to the right to see the end of Harry's glare. "I mean, I heard Harry in the hallway, decided to see what he was up to and get a snack," he mumbled.
So Harry had woken up Ron when Fawkes came but not her. Part of her thought it was sweet, the other louder part of her thought it was bollocks. She nodded slowly, took another sip, and then turned her gaze on Harry.
"Harry?" she said calmly and saw Ron shift uneasily in his chair. Good, she thought; he gets it. Harry however, just looked at her evenly. Either he was very, very, good or he didn't have a clue what he had done. "Harry, what am I to you? Am I your partner? Your friend? Your girlfriend? Lover? Shag buddy? Research assistant? Do you just keep me around to save your arse on a regular basis and do the reading for you?" With each question her voice got harder and louder and Harry's expression shifted from neutral to confusion and then to something she couldn't define.
"Because last time I checked this doesn't work too well if you keep things from me. I'm part of this team. Above all else, we do this together. You can't coddle me! Once you start doing that, things get dangerous. You of all people should know that. So the next time your bloody mystical bird decides to deliver you intel that is vital to what we're doing at half gone two in the morning, you will bloody well wake me up!" She slammed the mug on the table and stalked towards the stairs, feeling it wise to remove herself from the room before she said anything else. Ron's low whistle followed her to the second floor.
Harry didn't come after her, and she climbed back into bed, angry and cold. She watched the minutes tick by on the clock, and just as she was starting to question whether she should have let her temper get the best of her, she felt him enter the room and creep silently to the bed.
He gathered her to him immediately and pressed his lips to her neck. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
"Just don't do it again," she replied and settled back against him.
They spent the next two days going over the new intel from Kingsley and planning their next move. The more they searched, the more odd occurrences kept popping up. Not only Germany, Norway, and Bulgaria; there was now France, Japan, and, not surprisingly, Russia. They added the new locations to the map, but she still couldn't detect a pattern or a connection.
There had been no more unexpected visitors, but on the afternoon of the second day, with a spring squall roaring outside, Ron came tearing down the staircase, a pair of WWWs `Ever-Seeing-Ever-Glowing Super Specs' hanging lopsidedly around his neck.
"Boat!" he yelled, grabbing Harry's jacket off the newel post and tossing it at him. "About a mile or so out."
They stood shoulder to shoulder on the beach, wands at their sides, while the storm tore at them, watching as the fishing trawler made its way slowly past, but never made for the shore.
Much like when they first arrived, they entered Fleur's kitchen dripping wet and freezing. Hermione cast quick drying and warming charms on each of them, but she still felt cold.
She used it as an excuse to indulge in a bath, very aware that this could be her last luxury for a long time. She was certain Harry was ready to leave soon. They could spend months researching from the confines of the cottage, but until they got out there and started trying to track down these leads it would amount to nothing.
She let her eyes slide shut and drifted in the water. Fleur had an excellent bathtub. She was so relaxed she didn't hear Harry enter or sit against the side, his back to her. When she did open her eyes she saw the slump of his shoulders and how still he sat. Pulling one hand from the water she let the majority of the bubbles slide off before laying it on his shoulder.
"We're leaving tomorrow, aren't we?" she asked softly
"Yeah," he replied, clearly distracted and lost in thought
"Where to?"
"Russia, outside of St. Petersburg. I think that's our best bet of finding something. My mission was highly classified. There are only so many people who could have known where I was going to be that night," he stated. They had been over this already, but she knew he'd need to talk it out a few more times for his own peace of mind.
She stroked the hair around his ear, noticing it was starting to get long. He leaned into her and she pulled the chain on the plug with her toe. Rising from the tub she cast a drying charm and then led him into the bedroom.
They were up before the sun. She repacked the magical bag quickly before meeting in the office to gather their research. Studying the map one more time, she felt sure there was something she was missing. Harry dropped his hands on her shoulders. "You'll figure it out," he said with confidence, and she wished she had as much faith as he did.
Harry recommended they wear dark traveling cloaks. The village they were going to be in was very traditional and muggle clothing would make them conspicuous.
"We'll apparate into my flat," he said briskly as he rechecked his pockets and strapped on his holster for a third time.
"Your flat?" she asked in a small voice. She had always wondered where he had lived while he'd been gone.
He must have understood her tone, "I may be speaking generously when I say `flat'. It's more a base of operations; a place for me to sleep and keep some supplies, that's all." His hand came up to cup her cheek and she gave him a smile to let him know she was alright.
Ron cleared his throat loudly. "Are we going or are you two going to go all moon eyed all morning?"
She gave him a glare and then purposefully rose on her toes to give Harry a hard kiss. When she was back on her feet she slid her hand into his and waited until Ron had grabbed on as well. Then Shell Cottage blinked out of existence and a dank, shadowy room with concrete walls took its place.