She didn't see anything or anyone.
People around them looked at her with concern and took a wide berth to avoid her, but no one stopped.
Ron cursed behind her, as both he and Harry pulled their wands when they saw her reaction. Harry was now half in front of her, his body trying to block her if possible, and she knew he was talking to her but she couldn't hear him.
There was nothing. Other than the few pedestrians who had been close enough to see her display, no one on the entire street was behaving out of the ordinary. With a shaking hand, she slid her wand back in her holster.
Harry's head whipped back to look at her, his eyes frantic. He lowered his wand to his side but didn't put it up. His hand cupped her elbow, pulling her in towards him and bending around her, still providing protection if necessary. "What happened?" he practically hissed.
Ron was at her back, surrounding her. No one paid them any attention now, having decided it wasn't worth their time.
"My scars," she responded, hating how her voice sounded, and her hand came up and pressed into her chest. "They hurt again." Her eyes met Harry's, and she knew he saw the fear in them. Ron swore, and she could tell by the shifting he was doing that he was constantly looking for danger.
"Let's get back to the hostel..." Harry began, when something down the street caught her attention and she ripped herself from between them and sprinted.
The boys were right behind her, and when she slid to a halt next to a tall black lamp post she could already hear Ron's thoughts questioning her sanity.
Looped through a ring on the post was a long multicolored scarf.
Her mind had gone blank. There was no possible explanation for how that scarf could be there. A whine of panic began in her head and a rush of blood to her ears made her feel weak.
There was no point in trying to control the tremors in her hand as she reached for it. She gave a gentle tug and the scarf slipped loose of the ring to trail from her grasp.
She ran her fingers over the stitches and the fringed ends, paying special attention to the spacing. One end had more fringe than the other. She kept touching it, as if the tactile experience could somehow explain how it was here, in Germany.
Harry's hand entered her field of vision and took the scarf from her, and it was this that broke her from her trance.
With a gasp and tears blurring her eyes she turned to look at him. "That can't be here."
Harry shoved the scarf at Ron and then cupped her face in his hands. " `Mione, you're scaring me. Why can't the scarf be here?"
She reached up and clasped onto his wrists, anchoring herself to him. "Because, it's supposed to be in France."
"Is it yours?" he asked, his voice hard.
She shook her head. "It's Sarah's."
Harry's eyes narrowed in confusion for a moment before he remembered who Sarah was.
Ron stepped to Harry's side and gestured with the hand that held the scarf. "I bet loads of girls have scarves like this. It's probably not even hers."
"It's hers," she replied, cutting her eyes to his for a second before looking back at Harry.
"How do you know for sure?" Ron countered.
Without looking away from Harry she replied, "Because I made it for her last year."
She felt more than saw Harry exchange a look with Ron over her head. Then his arm was around her waist, Ron was on her other side, and they were on the move. Harry's right hand stayed inside his jacket, ready to pull his wand if necessary.
She couldn't remember the trip back to their rooms, just that she was suddenly there, with Harry pushing her to sit down on the bed as he kneeled in front of her.
"Are you alright?" he asked, pushing loose hair out of her eyes.
"I knitted it during finals. I ran out of yarn at the end." The scarf was still in Ron's hands and she tugged gently at a trailing bit so that it fell into her lap. "See," she said, turning it so both ends lay together. "This end has more fringe than the other. I didn't want to wait to give it to her, so I just spaced these out some and hoped she wouldn't notice. I made this. It's her scarf." She worried her bottom lip with her teeth, and blinked furiously to keep the tears from falling.
Harry stroked a thumb under her eye and sighed heavily before he stood up and paced in the three feet between the bed and the window.
"What if they took her? What if they took her to get to me?" she said suddenly, the thoughts coming into her head and tumbling from her mouth before she could stop them. "We know they tried to get into my place. Maybe they went back and she was there, or..."
"But how did they know where you were?" Ron spoke up, and Harry's head whipped around.
"Exactly, mate. No one knows we're here except the Order."
They were all silent, each lost in thoughts they'd rather not voice.
"Shit!" Harry exclaimed and ripped the scarf from her lap before barging through the bathroom and into Ron's space.
Ron was on his heels and Hermione followed, coming to a stop in the doorway, trying to see around Ron. She squirmed her way under his arm and pushed him to the side, but he brought a hand down on her shoulder and held her still.
Harry had thrown the scarf on Ron's unmade bottom bunk and had his wand drawn and pointed at it. The image immediately made her think of all the times they had tried to destroy the locket during the horcrux hunt and her knees buckled a bit at the memory.
Harry was going through an array of spells and charms both verbal and non-verbal and she only knew a handful of them. She knew enough, though, to gather that he was attempting to detect if there was anything on the scarf that could cause them harm.
She was holding her breath, and when Harry finally lowered his wand and turned to them she let it out slowly.
"Nothing. No charms, no spells to transmit back what we're saying, no delayed portkeys. Nothing. It's just a scarf," he said harshly, as if he was slightly disappointed it had not given him any information.
"What if..." Ron started, and she saw a pained look on his face, as if he couldn't bring himself to finish his thought.
"What?" Harry prodded
"What if she hasn't been taken at all. What if she's a part of this?" Ron finally said, not meeting her eyes.
"Don't be absurd, Ron!" she replied immediately, pushing against him, and stalking back into the other room. "Sarah is a Muggle from a Muggle university. That's all." Anger rose up inside her at his insinuation that the one person she had any sort of connection with in the past few years could have been anything but what they seemed. She refused to even consider it. Ron had no idea what he was talking about.
"You were there! You weren't using magic. How does that make her any different from you? Maybe she was doing the same," Ron threw back, once again right behind her. Something in all of this had made him wonder, and as much as she hated to admit it, when it came to tactics, and strategy he had an aptitude for it that she couldn't match.
"But why? Why do that for years and never act on it? You honestly believe someone who works with the people we're up against would actually pretend to be a Muggle! A Muggle, Ron, think about it!" She couldn't sit still, the room was too small, and Ron and Harry took up entirely too much space; she felt like something in her may crack soon. "They hate Muggles, actually despise them and don't believe they should exist! That's what the entire war was about; oppression and control, and a need to rid the world of people who weren't pureblood. Or did you forget about this?" she yelled, wrenching up the long sleeve she wore and shoving her scarred arm in his face.
Ron's face blanched, and as soon as she had done it she wished she could take it back. She pulled the sleeve down in haste and covered her mouth with her hands. "Oh, Ron! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have done that."
"I didn't forget. I can't." His tone was probably the hardest she'd ever heard come from him. "And you're right, it doesn't make a lot of sense, but none of this does, and these people, whoever they are, are well organized and willing to take their time. So pretending to be a Muggle and keeping an eye on you for three years does fit the pattern."
They were frozen in place; she and Ron facing off, and Harry paused in the doorway. He was the one to speak next, saving them both from anything she might say. "They've plotted this carefully, Hermione. It's not entirely out of the realm of belief."
Harry's support of Ron's wild theory completely deflated her and she stumbled to the chair and collapsed.
"Harry it can't be her," she protested, but she didn't sound sure and she knew it.
"Why can't it?" he asked gently, and she knew he needed to hear her answer.
"Because if it is her, then it means that I was tricked, and I was used, and I was played." Her voice wasn't bitter, it was beaten. "She was the only one I..." she trailed off and brushed hot tears off her cheeks, putting a hand out to stop Harry from coming any closer. She couldn't do this if they were touching. "When I left England I had no one. And slowly, over the months, she became a friend. I wanted...I wanted to get closer to her. She reminded me a bit of Ginny. But I kept her at a distance on purpose. I was..." She took a shuddering breath before she could continue. "I was selfish as a way to protect myself. I'm not sure I actually realized it for a long time, but it was very clear. If I didn't let her in I couldn't get hurt." The `again' at the end of the sentence was left unspoken but they all heard it.
Ron scraped a rough hand through his hair and let his head hang.
She couldn't look at Harry. She knew she'd see guilt and self-loathing, and she was too raw at that moment to fix him.
A nagging thought distracted her. "It still doesn't explain how the scarf got here. No one knew where we were."
Ron cleared his throat. "What about your computer stuff?"
"I certainly didn't tell anyone where I was! I told them I was still in England," she returned, dismissing the idea immediately.
"Ok, well I don't know how all that works. I mean, with owls you can trace where the owl came from. Same with the letters in the muggle post. I didn't know if your e-mail thingy was the same or not," Ron explained and leaned against the doorjamb, the look on his face clearly expecting Hermione to harp on his lack of Muggle knowledge.
She didn't have the heart, not after what she had just done. She stared at a stain on the thin carpet, still not wishing to meet anyone's eyes.
"Hermione..." Harry said slowly, as if he was in the middle of a thought and didn't want to interrupt himself and lose it by being too quick. "Hermione, he's not entirely off, is he?"
She didn't understand what Harry could be alluding to.
"I don't use computers all that often but...I thought, it was like that, that you could in fact know where an email came from." He was slightly hesitant, and she at first shook her head at him in dismissal when it came to her like a bolt.
She gasped aloud and sat straight up. "I did it! I brought them here," she said frantically. "They tracked the IP address! That would have told them exactly where we were. Not only the town, but it would tell them the cafe as well!"
Harry's eyes locked onto hers and she knew he agreed. "How many pure-blood wizards do you think know how to do that?"
She looked gaped mouth at him. "I have no idea. Not many I'd presume. But that doesn't mean they couldn't have learned." She wrapped her arms around her middle as she realized where he was leading.
"Would one who lived amongst muggles for three years know?"
The moment hung between them until she answered. "Yes. I would think she would." Her use of pronoun was purposeful, and Harry reached out to cover her knee, and give it a reassuring squeeze.
"It's possible she was under surveillance. They could have been monitoring her computer or her flat?" Harry offered, but that sounded weak even to her.
"She's the only one who knew the significance of the scarf," Hermione had to admit. "If someone had taken her they wouldn't know that, not unless she told them or was forced to tell them. And while I can accept the possibility of her working for them and living as a Muggle, I truly can't see them having an entire team of wizards who were familiar enough with Muggle technology to hack into email accounts and monitor computers. It just...it goes against everything they stand for."
When she said it like that, the possibility of Sarah not being a part of this dwindled to almost nothing, and she felt hollow inside.
"So who is she, really?" Ron provided from the other side of the room, pushing off the doorjamb with his shoulder.
"That's the question, mate," Harry said, standing upright and moving to the bed to pull the magical bag towards him. With a flick of his wand, every file, folder, and book they had were now laid out on the double mattress.
"Let's get to work," he stated. "You can start, `Mione, by telling us everything you know about her."
She hugged herself a bit tighter and then crawled over the mattress so she could sit against the back wall under the bunk. Ron claimed the chair she had been in and Harry continued to pace.
"I can't exactly remember if she was already in the building when I arrived or not. She was in my department but was younger so she wasn't taking a lot of the same classes that I was. She may have mentioned something about having transferred in, but I'm not sure." Harry nodded at this, and she knew if she was remembering correctly it fit the idea that she had been planted there on purpose.
"She'd invite me out to the pub with the rest of the students, or to campus concerts and plays, things like that. I didn't go that often, especially that first year. But she was persistent. She never gave up on me." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she began thinking harder about their relationship and tried to step back and look at it critically.
"How was she persistent?" Harry asked, trying to keep her on track.
"Well, you two know. I was involved in my studies. I was...I was lonely, and sad, and quite frankly I wasn't very good company. Even if I did go out with her, I wasn't much fun. But she kept asking. I just thought she was being nice and liked me. Now...I have to wonder." She was now second guessing every interaction they had ever had, and tried to scrutinize any minutiae of detail that she could have missed that would have tipped her off.
"The last two years...we've gotten closer. We'd study together more, get dinner sometimes. I can't place any point where she acted suspicious or said something that didn't make sense..." but she trailed off as a thought scraped across the back of her mind.
"What is it? Did you remember something?" Harry asked quietly, waiting as patiently as he could.
"I think...yes, I think so. It was last February. I was going to a conference in Paris and I was going to be gone for three days. She kept asking me if I needed her to look after my flat." Hermione looked up and saw that Harry and Ron were both staring at her with confused expressions. "You don't understand. She was...desperate to watch my place. She asked me again and again. Even after I assured her I had nothing that needed to be tended to; no plants, no post, nothing. There was no reason my flat couldn't sit empty while I was gone, but she just kept insisting that she should have a key in case of an emergency. At the time it seemed odd, but I just brushed it off as her trying to be helpful, but it was excessive, and was probably..."
"Yeah," Harry breathed out.
"What do you think she was trying to do?" Hermione asked with a small voice.
Harry paused before responding. "I'm not sure. Maybe plant a listening device if they were using Muggle tech. Maybe charm something in your flat to cause you harm. It could be a whole host of things." That muscle in his jaw was ticking again and she scooted to the edge of the bed so she could reach him.
"I'm fine," she said softly, pulling on the bottom of his jacket so he'd drop down to her level. "I didn't give her the key. She didn't do anything to my flat," she assured him, stroking a hand across his cheek and then down his arm so she could tangle their fingers together.
"She never tried anything else after that?" he asked
Hermione shook her head, "No. Not that I can think of." She sat back with a gasp as a realization came to her. "She's been the one following me! The one causing my scars to hurt and attacking me on the road! Oh gods! I was such an idiot!" The anger welled up and replaced the fear and doubt she had been feeling. Now she was just enraged with the knowledge that she had been fooled.
Harry brought his hands up to grasp her elbows, and didn't allow her to look away. "Listen to me. You're not an idiot. You had no reason to believe she wasn't who she said she was."
"Don't placate me, Harry! I know better. The war taught me that. You can't trust anyone! Polyjuice, glamours, imperius, traitors! We've seen it all! As soon as you let your guard down, bad things happen." she couldn't sit there any longer, she felt like she was suffocating with the bunk above her and Harry in front. She felt trapped.
Hermione scrambled off the bed, practically bowling Harry over in the process and headed straight for the door. She had forgotten about the wards, but before she could pull her wand a hand slammed into the wood above her head, keeping the door shut by force.
"You can't leave," he said with a ragged voice, his head bowed so the exhales crossed the back of her neck and made gooseflesh appear.
"The war was over. Over. You shouldn't have needed to think about any of those things. No one faults you," he whispered into her hair.
"I fault me. `Brightest witch of her age,' isn't that what they always said," she said sarcastically. "Not so bright now, am I? If I had found her out then, maybe this wouldn't have happened. Maybe they wouldn't have had three years to plan all of this. Maybe..." She couldn't finish the thought because she was going to say that maybe Harry wouldn't have been away for so long, and she knew she couldn't put that on him.
His hand wound around her waist and turned her to face him.
He lowered his head to hers, but the one hand was still planted on the door above her. The look in his eye let her know he was aware of what she hadn't said. "I would have been no use to you, `Mione. I was a drunk then." Over his shoulder she saw Ron's chair drop from two legs to four and she thought that maybe Harry hadn't shared everything with his best friend yet. "Don't blame yourself because you think you could have somehow prevented all of this. No one could have. And even if they could, it's moot. We're dealing with the now. And right now, we have enough evidence to support the theory that someone from the other side has been spying on you for three years. This runs deep. Much deeper than I think we ever imagined." The hand on the door dropped down to run along her jaw and then her neck, before tangling in her hair. "Now you can start living by the old rules. `Constant Vigilance' and all that, but stop blaming yourself for the past," he said with a small smile that she attempted to return. She was not sure the Harry from the war could have made that statement. Something had changed in him.
His eyes burned bright and the way he looked at her made her heart full. She had never loved him more.
The hand in her hair tugged her forward and she raised up to meet him halfway. Before things could advance, however, there was a loud "Ahem!" from the other side of the room and she felt Harry's mouth turn up at the corners before he pressed another kiss to her lips and turned to face Ron.
"This all sorted now?" he asked sardonically, the chair tipped back once more and his feet propped on the bed. And then his face became serious almost instantly. "I'm sorry Hermione, really. I didn't want to suggest..."
"I know. But even I have to accept that it seems like that's what happened," she offered, able to see how hard it was for him to bring it up. "Now. How about we get to those files. There's a stack of Death Eaters we haven't even looked at yet."
They settled in once more. The only interruption coming from Ron's growling stomach, which he took as invitation to leave and grab something to eat. Hermione barely tasted it. She kept looking at Harry out of the corner of her eye to see if she could tell how this latest development was affecting him. Whoever this was, they didn't wait long after Voldemort was gone to start this plan, and they definitely had the advantage.
"You know what's not in any of these files?" Ron said suddenly, crumbling up a take away wrapper and tossing it in the vague direction of a trash bin. "We don't know anything about their families. These Death Eaters had kids. Look at Malfoy. Look at half the Slytherins in our year. We don't have files on them. And how many others are out there that were older, or younger, or didn't go to Hogwarts?" The words hung in the air around them, and Hermione was stunned by what he had just suggested.
"You're absolutely right," Harry agreed. "You're wasting your talents at the store, Ron. The Auror office needs you." He didn't pause for Ron to react, but Hermione saw him flush red and look away at Harry's praise. "There could be an entire new generation of those against the Order out there and we have no idea who they are. They've been able to function anonymously, and without suspicion. Merlin knows what kind of damage they've caused."
"That could be Sarah's connection, if that's even her real name," Hermione added.
"What about the guy from yesterday? Think he may have something to do with this?" Ron thought out loud
Harry took a moment to consider. "It's possible. His story is suspicious. If they're planning to do something at the school here, he could be in place to see that through."
There was a loud thumping on the door to Ron's room and they had all spun with their wands drawn before it registered.
"Just a sec!" Ron called out, and they could hear more pounding and the loud calls of the group from Portugal.
"Go see what they want," Harry ordered, and dropped the wards as Ron exited their room.
Harry and Hermione sat in silence while Ron was in the hallway. They could hear muffled voices and the occasional laugh, but didn't know what was being said.
There was a slight smirk on Ron's face when he returned, and they waited in anticipation for him to tell them what had happened.
"Hope you've got some other clothes, Hermione. We're going out tonight," he announced.
"Care to explain?" Harry said, rising to his full height and crossing his arms.
"They invited us to go to that club, the one you were asking about yesterday. And the Lazlo bloke is going too. I figured it would be a good way to keep an eye on him and see if there was anything else going on at that place." Ron's voice was sure, but she could see he was slightly worried Harry wouldn't approve of his decision.
Harry seemed to be considering the plan, and nodded slowly. "Yeah, it'll work. The operation in St. Petersburg used a club as a cover. It's possible they're doing the same here. If nothing else, maybe we'll at least be able to rule out this Lazlo. Or he may prove to be what we think he is."
Ron clapped his hands together and headed back towards his room. "I'm gonna go take a kip. Don't want to be too tired tonight," he said, and before anyone could protest he had disappeared.
"Not a bad idea. You should probably do the same," Harry said, returning to the bed to pick up the file he had been reading.
"I'm ok right now," she replied, and then it occurred to her exactly how she was going to have to dress that night and she let out a groan, falling backwards and covering her face with a pillow.
"What?" Harry asked evenly, and she had an idea he knew exactly what she was reacting to.
"I'm going to have to transfigure something to wear, Harry. I doubt this is going to work," she said, pulling at her torn jeans.
Harry grinned and tossed her the file she had turned into a magazine. "Maybe you'll find some inspiration in there."
One look at the cover was all she needed to see. The latest celebrity bad girl was wearing a dress that looked like it was intended to be a shirt and left little to the imagination.
"Maybe I will take a kip, and when I wake up this will all have just been a nightmare," she said with a groan and rolled to her side, shoving the pillow under her head.
The mattress dipped behind her and she felt Harry align his body with hers. "I hope you don't think it's all been bad," he said softly.
"No. Not all of it." she replied, twining their fingers together. She gave a sigh as she looked at her left hand, not used to seeing it bare.
"What?" he asked.
"Nothing. I just...I didn't like that I had to take my ring off for this. I understand why. It's just...never mind, I'm just being silly."
He turned his hand so he could hold hers and ran his thumb over the faint mark where the ring used to be. "It's not silly. Maybe when this is over...we can make sure a ring is back on this finger." His voice is tight, and unsure, and her breath has caught in her throat at his words.
Neither of them were breathing, and she had to swallow twice before she could respond. "I...uh...I think I'd like that," she finally managed to say, and his answer was to wrap her up even tighter and lay his head on her hair, chin resting on her shoulder.
She didn't mean to fall asleep, but it happened.
She awoke with a start, the dream slipping away before she could identify it, but by the way her heart was pounding she wasn't sure she wanted to know.
Harry was already up and she could hear the shower going.
The magazine was still on the bed, taunting her.
By the time Harry was finished, she managed to transfigure a pair of shorts and a t-shirt into something she thought would work for the club, and she wondered what Harry was going to think about it.
She grabbed the scraps of fabric and headed into the bathroom to begin getting ready, seeing Harry's eyebrows raise when he noticed that was all she was taking in with her.
The clothes were easy enough to transfigure, and her hair and make-up weren't difficult either with a few sticking charms and glamours she remembered the girls using back at Hogwarts.
The problem was when she stood back and looked at the final product in the mirror. The black mini skirt was positively indecent, and while the shirt covered everything in front, the back was completely open, making her feel naked. Towering high heels completed the look, and she hoped she wouldn't make a fool of herself attempting to walk in them. Add in her purposely tousled hair, smoky eyes, and red lips and she looked like a common tramp. Ron was never going to let her live this one down.
She took one more look in the mirror and muttered, "Gryffindor courage," before stepping into the bedroom.
Harry didn't look up, his head was bowed, attempting to fasten cufflinks and she was grateful because it gave her a moment to study him before he saw her.
He wore a dark suit that fit him all too well and a deep red shirt that was almost black. When he did look up he did a double take, and she realized his glasses were missing, allowing his eyes to be even more prominent.
This was a Harry she didn't know. He was slick and dangerous looking, and while yes, it was incredibly sexy, she felt a little shiver go down her spine and she didn't know quite why.
His cufflink was forgotten as he stared and she felt herself begin to flush at the look that came over him.
His hand spanned her waist and then she was flush against him. "This is never going to work," he said huskily, lips ghosting over her neck. Her heels put her at almost eye level with him and he was definitely taking advantage.
"Wh...what do you mean?" she managed to stutter.
"I'm not sure I can let you go out in public looking like this." The hand at her waist dropped down the outside of her thigh, fingering the edge of the fabric. As he ran one digit under the hem she gasped, and lost her battle to keep her hands out of his hair.
"How are you hiding this?" he asked, indicating the wand holster he had just discovered.
"A few...well placed charms," she breathed out, her eyes slamming shut as the edge of the dresser hit the back of her legs and he pressed her against it.
"Oi!" an aggravated voice came from behind Harry. "You two may want to save the show for later."
Ron stood in the doorway, tugging at his collar, clearly not as comfortable in these clothes as Harry was.
Hermione straightened her skirt and put a hand through her hair while Harry went to finish getting ready.
"You can't go out looking like that!" Ron erupted once he saw her, eyes bulging out of his face. "Harry! Do you see what she's wearing? How can you allow this?"
"Allow this?" she repeated cooly, but he was still ranting at Harry and hadn't heard her.
"She's practically naked. That's not even a shirt. It's a half a shirt!" Ron's getting louder by the second, and his wild gestures almost made contact with her once. "Harry! Are you even listening to me?"
"Mate, you walked in on me seeing that outfit, so, yes, I know what she's wearing," Harry replied, raking one hand through hair that suddenly worked for this look he was going for.
Hermione had had enough and marched between the two of them, only having to tilt her head back a bit to see Ron.
"Ronald Weasley! You need to calm down! In case you forgot, it was your harebrained scheme that got us this invite in the first place, so if anyone is responsible for how I have to dress tonight it's you!" He had sense enough not to reply. "So you're just going to have to learn to live with it. I'm not exactly pleased. Honestly! Have you ever seen me look like this before?" Her eyes flashed as she stared him down.
Knowing she had made her point, she stalked to the dresser to grab the magical beaded bag she had charmed to look like a small black clutch.
"She doesn't even have her wand!" Ron tried one last time, and she turned to see Harry clapping a hand on his shoulder and turning him towards the door.
"Who said I didn't have my wand," she threw over her shoulder, smiling wickedly as Ron gasped behind her.
"What? Wait! There's a wand under there?" He must have turned to Harry because there was a scuffling sound and then Ron was practically being frog marched past her and into the hallway.
She laughed at the gobsmacked expression on Ron's face, until he started scrutinizing her at every angle. "Knock it off!" she commanded, and smacked him on the back of his head with her clutch.
Harry caught up with her, and she slipped her hand through his proffered arm.
The walk to the club didn't take long, and Harry mentioned that it was one block behind the building where the school was. Certainly close enough to question.
The group from Portugal, except for Lazlo, was waiting for them out front. After all their appreciative wolf whistles and leering looks, which caused Ron to bristle and Harry to place his hand against her bare lower back as a sign to back off, they were making their way inside.
It was a relatively new space. Although housed in a refurbished factory, the blue and silver color scheme, multiple levels, and secluded alcoves gave it a futuristic look that seemed to appeal to the crowd.
There was barely room to move, and Hermione held tight to Harry's hand as they wove their way through the mass of bodies to the glass fronted bar. Two of the footballers went off to find a table, and finally Hermione got the chance to ask where Lazlo was.
"They said he'd be meeting everyone here. He's how we got on the list apparently. Claims his cousin works here or something," Ron shouted over the din, before motioning to the bartender he wanted to place an order.
Harry's eyes met hers at this bit of information. "He's never mentioned this cousin before, has he?" but Ron just shrugged his shoulders.
"Don't know. I'll see what I can find out," he promised before asking for a round of shots to go to the table that had been secured.
Harry's thumb kept drawing circles on her lower back, distracting her from surveying the room. Turning towards him she stretched up to press her lips to his jaw. "You're really going to have to stop doing that," she whispered.
His answer was to slide his hand even lower. She nipped his ear lobe in retaliation and was pleased with how his hand tightened in response. Taking her time, she slid back down and left one hand resting on his chest, absently playing with the buttons on his shirt.
The bartender returned and Harry ordered two soda waters with lime, and she felt a flare of pain for him, remembering how he had said he'd spent a year doing nothing but drinking away his memories.
Drinks in hand they made their way to the table. It was so crowded there was hardly enough room, but Hermione played into her part well and sat on Harry's lap, giggling as she pretended to make herself comfortable.
There was more talk of football, and she didn't have to pretend at all to be bored to tears. She sipped her drink, tried to ignore Harry's wandering hand, and watched the others around them.
They had been there almost an hour when she saw Lazlo emerge from a back door near the bar, clearly an area not for the general public.
Ron was rising to get round number three and she shook her empty glass at him. "Ronnie!! One more!" He just rolled his eyes as he passed her.
Jumping to her feet she grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him up. "Dance with me," she demanded, and dragged him to the crowded floor.
Club dancing was not exactly something she had ever done before, but by looking at the people around them all she'd really have to do was wrap herself around Harry and move with the music.
They found a relatively clear spot and she pulled him close, winding her arms around his neck, as his hands were once again drawn to her bare back.
"I saw Lazlo," she said into his ear, running her hand through his hair as they moved.
He tried to draw back, but she held him still. "Where?"
"Door by the bar. He came out of it like he's been here before," she replied, letting one hand drag down the side of his face.
He grabbed the hand and pressed a kiss to the palm. "Let's see if we can't get some more info out of him, or maybe some of the people who work here." She nodded her agreement and they stayed on the floor a little while longer before working their way back to the table, thirsty and hot.
She grabbed her new drink as soon as Harry tugged her back into his lap and took a great gulp, sputtering a bit when the taste was off.
"Everything alright, `Mione." Harry asked. No one else had noticed.
"Yeah, I just think Ron actually got me a vodka tonic, instead of just tonic." She smiled. "No worries, I'll just share yours," she said, taking the drink from his hand. The last thing she wanted to do that night was become inebriated.
There wasn't a chance to pull Ron away and tell him about Lazlo, but soon enough the man arrived at their table, apologizing for taking so long.
He seemed laid back, and talked with everyone, even if he wasn't overly loquacious.
The longer they sat there the stranger she started to feel. At first she thought she was just over-heated. But she drank more of Harry's water, and felt more flushed and a bit light headed.
Hoping a trip to the bathroom would help, she pushed off of Harry and turned to lean on his shoulders. "Just going to head to the loo. Be right back," she promised and pressed a quick kiss to his lips before making her way carefully down the steps and around the surge of people at the bar.
She hoped he hadn't suspected anything was wrong. She didn't want to worry him, but every step she took she became more and more concerned. She was beginning to stumble, and the brief thought she'd had that it could be food poisoning immediately vanished.
The ladies' room was straight ahead and there was thankfully not a line. She pushed open the door and barely made it to the sinks for support. A pain shot through her stomach and she doubled over, gasping.
When she straightened up, there was a presence behind her and, for a second, she thought maybe Harry had followed her. Looking into the mirror she never expected to see the sight that she did.
"Hello, Hermione. What a surprise meeting you here." It was Sarah, and she had a wand pointed straight at Hermione's head.