This oneshot was written for the Harmony Collection on SASS discord. Check out the other submissions by looking in the FFN community or the AO3 collection. Please feel free to join using this link: discord. gg / hq5ZvYYMA7 (remove the spaces)

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

A blinding light flashed before his eyes.

Everything in him wanted to run towards it, but his limbs felt like lead, his entire body did. Even the scream that clawed its way up his throat came out as a whisper. It took every ounce of effort to get a single word out.

A single protest.

"No…"

"No…"

"No…"

Harry startled awake at the touch of a hand.

With his breath coming out in shallow gasps and his heart still racing in his chest, he looked around the room wildly.

"Captain Potter–sorry–you were just…"

It took a moment for him to regain his bearings, but he soon realised he'd fallen asleep at his desk. Stebbins, one of the junior aurors, was standing in front of him, staring with concern.

Harry shook his head. "It's fine–I'm–I'm fine. Thanks for waking me," he said, rubbing his hands down his face. "Sorry…did you need something?"

"No, just…" she said, her eyebrows knit together. "The meeting with the Minister. You said I could join you? It's starting in about fifteen minutes."

Sighing deeply, Harry nodded. "Yeah, of course," he said. "You go on ahead. I'll meet you there."

She gave him a sympathetic smile before turning and leaving his office.

Staring down at his desk, Harry's gaze fell upon the wrinkled letter he'd fallen asleep on. One of the dozens of well-wishes he'd received over the last few days. Smoothing it over, his eyes lingered for a moment over a few lines.

The death of a soldier often brings guilt to his comrade. Though both equal in bravery, one's life outlasts the other.

As does one's pain.

Swallowing hard, he folded it up and stuffed it in his pocket.

He then took in a deep breath and braced himself for whatever the day held next.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Attention, everyone. Attention!" Kingsley's deep voice boomed out over the cacophony of voices filling the boardroom. "Thank you all for arriving in a timely manner. I'd like to run through things quickly so as not to take you away from your normal duties for too long. Is everyone accounted for, Sophia?"

The Minister's assistant, who looked to be fresh out of Hogwarts, pushed her large square glasses up her nose and nodded with enthusiasm.

"Do you want me to take notes?" Stebbins said in a low voice beside Harry.

He wasn't sure why she needed to, but he was all too happy to let her do just that. He wanted nothing more than to sink into the background and zone out.

Though luck was hardly ever on his side.

"Excellent," Kingsley said, glancing around the room at everyone. "Then I'd like to begin first, by commending the DMLE for another job well done rounding up the final vestiges of the Death Eaters."

Bringing his hands together, he started a raucous round of applause that grated on Harry's ears.

"Operation Downfall concludes a multi-year investigation into the detection and removal of those members of our society who've felt entitled to spread their prejudice through fear and criminal activity," he said before pausing to shuffle his papers. "And we have Captain Potter to thank for leading this operation over the past several years. Harry…would you like to say a few words on the matter?"

Harry really did not.

But there was no getting out of it, he knew.

Standing up, he smoothed out his robes and surveyed the room, allowing a numbing feeling to spread throughout the hollowness in his chest.

"Thank you, Minister," Harry said with a nod. "But it was the heroic sacrifice of Director Gawain Robards...and the tireless work of the brave men and women on my team who we all have to thank. I'm just the man lucky enough to have been leading them."

"Well said, Captain Potter," Kingsley said, standing up as well. "Let us all take a moment of silence to honour Director Robards; a tenured auror with an exceptional career. A better leader of the DMLE than I've ever seen and could have ever asked for. He was a man of great integrity, a hero who helped muggleborns flee tyranny during the war. He was a dedicated father, a passionate mentor, and a dear, dear friend."

Harry swallowed the growing lump in his throat as everyone stood and silence reigned over the room.

Yet despite it all, he couldn't help the wave of amusement that passed over him as he imagined the look on Robards' face if he could hear the way he was being spoken about now.

He was not a very well-loved man, to say the least. In fact, he'd been a prickly bastard to nearly everyone and had given all the Aurors hell when they'd first joined.

Even Harry. Especially Harry. Being the Boy-Who-Lived meant absolute shit all to Robards.

But it was for that reason, among many others, that Harry grew to respect him, admire him, and deeply care for him in a way that felt much more like a family member than a mentor.

And he knew, though it had never been spoken aloud, that the feeling was mutual.

As if on cue, the final spell's bright light flashed unbidden in his mind's eye, but Harry forced himself to focus back on the present.

He glanced around the room to ground himself and caught eyes with Hermione Granger across the table.

She looked away as Kingsley cleared his throat, and everyone took their seats again.

"So…just as Director Robards and Captain Potter led this operation, we look to you, the Department Heads, to continue to shepherd in this new age of our Ministry. One built on meritocracy and hard work, not connections and blood prejudice."

More than a few people banged their fists on the table or rumbled their agreement.

"With that said, let us begin," Kingsley said, sitting back down, "with the Department of Finance."

Harry nearly groaned aloud. He'd heard enough about finance reports to last a lifetime while on protective detail for the Muggle Prime Minister a few years ago. The only benefit to the well of information he'd forcefully gained from that experience was being able to understand what the hell Kingsley was going on about when discussing their own government's financial reconstruction.

"The VAT taxes have continued to grow, and with the recent settlement of the pensions and this quarter's bond sales, we have the cash flow necessary to finally post the first surplus in decades, so long as the trend continues. If our muggle counterparts hold to their promises, we'll be fiscally solvent by the end of the year."

"That's excellent news," the Minister said with a relieved look.

And it truly was. For years, the old wealthy pureblood families, such as the Malfoys and Notts, had been loaning money to the Ministry to prevent it from defaulting on its wage and pension requirements. But they hadn't taken to the recent reform well. Their loss of power and inability to buy votes had effectively caused them to withdraw their financial support.

Harry had originally thought Fudge and his cronies must have been lining their pockets with gold to cause such a large government debt to accrue. But other than his exorbitant salary, that hadn't been the case at all.

It had been a problem at the start of Bagnold's regime, but by the end of Fudge's tenure, it had become a catastrophe.

The cost of the war against Voldemort was what initially left them in dire straits. And despite baby Harry ultimately bringing about his defeat on Halloween of 1980 (The Vacuity of Voldemort, as Harry fondly referred to it), a different war played out for many years after. The sort that embedded itself deep in the roots of their society.

For decades, the purebloods continued to flex their financial power at the Ministry. Family members were hired where there were no openings to be filled and they kept the Wizengamot dancing to their tune, passing bigoted laws.

But after the capture and interrogation of Barty Crouch Junior and Senior during the debacle that was the Triwizard Tournament in Harry's 7th year, the DMLE, led by Bones, Scrimgeour, Shacklebolt and Robards, had reopened the cold cases from the war and declared open season on all past Death Eater crimes.

Operation Downfall lasted for several years after, headed by Robards (and eventually Harry) after the untimely assassination of Bones and Scrimgeour. In the process, Fudge had been removed from office and replaced by Kingsley. And prominent purebloods and past Death Eaters were sentenced for their crimes.

The war had finally and truly ended.

"And now," Kingsley said, looking back down at his agenda, "onto The Department of Magical Education…Griselda, if you would."

The batty old witch was the only reigning department head that had been in the position since the war.

"We have two new examiners set to oversee their first end-of-year examinations. I believe the imminent retirement of Professor Tofty will be well looked after, as well as my own transition next year."

"A long and illustrious career, indeed," the Minister chimed in.

Marchbanks huffed. "So long as we return to top position on the ICW's annual rankings, I will retire in peace," she said, giving a weathered smile to the room that quickly turned dour. "But if we fail to do so, you better believe I won't be going quietly into the night!"

Given how she took to barging into people's offices whenever she pleased and yelling at those trying to escape from her into the lifts, Harry didn't doubt it.

"Oh, I certainly do," Kingsley said, before looking down at his papers. "And on to the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

A throat cleared from the other side of the room. "Beyond the upcoming quidditch friendly, the only major development is Durmstrang making noise about a new Triwizard Tournament."

A fervour of murmurs broke out throughout the room, and Harry sat up straighter in his chair.

"But since it was resurrected in 1997 and bungled by Bagman and Crouch, neither we nor the French want it to see the light of day."

Kingsley nodded solemnly. "Rightly so," he said, making eye contact with Harry for a moment before moving on. "The Department of Proper and Improper Magic Use. Miss Granger?"

"Yes," she said, making a duplicate of her binder for Kingsley. "The Magical Reversal Squads are being deployed at a rate that is forty-two per cent higher than the median usage in the past calendar year. Though, if we use the mode, it is considerably higher, showing a forty-seven and one third increase."

Without pausing to let anyone digest that, she continued. "The mean is even worse, with the rate of deployment being over two standard deviations away from it. At the current pace, the logarithmic growth will soon require us to staff the expected carrying capacity that I had predicted and proposed at last year's finance meeting which can be found in appendix F, page four hundred and sixty-two."

Harry's eyes glazed over almost the second she started speaking. And the usual looks of disdain began to form on the faces around the room.

If it wasn't for Dirk Creswell, a highly respected and well-liked muggleborn department head for the past decade, one might have assumed people were being prejudiced against her because of her blood status. Possibly even because of her age. She was made the youngest department head ever in the history of the Ministry of Magic, after all.

But neither was the case. For she was eminently qualified for her position and everyone could see that.

Granger was simply…not very likeable.

She had a knack for belittling, over-explaining, and being painfully difficult to work with.

"Is there any progress in stopping the spread of the dustbusters wreaking havoc on the muggles?" Kingsley asked, leaning forward as he planted his elbows on the table. "The Prime Minister has been demanding action for two weeks now."

"As I was saying," Hermione said, wringing her hands together. "The logarithmic growth rate in the deployment suggests we are nearing the peak of the maximum capacity for the issues cropping up. We are staffed for just over the carrying capacity next week, so we will be able to handle this and future issues, but according to my projections for the–"

"Calculations, projections and numbers aren't going to keep the Prime Minister off my back," Kingsley said tersely. "We've been on excellent terms, but the attack last week has put a strain on our relationship and we cannot jeopardise our financial position by having him forgo the forgiveness of our post-war debts."

Try as he might, Harry could not take the current situation seriously. He kept replaying the mental image of the news story he'd watched of the dustbuster vacuums chasing the politicians around the House of Lords. It had been a true sight to behold.

"We need results, Miss Granger, and we need them now," Kingsley said, causing whispers to ripple throughout the room.

If she wasn't such a stick in the mud, Harry might have felt bad for her. But in any case, he had far greater things to worry about than a colleague's feelings.

"The reforms I've been making will lead to results," Granger said, admirably keeping from buckling under the pressure. "The studies have shown that the matrix structure allows for innovative service and the flexibility required for a department with diverse roles and needs that–"

"Yes, yes, the methods are promising. But we need results now," he said again before letting out a tired sigh. He glanced around the room for a moment and then nodded. "You said you require more manpower?"

"Our Magical Reversal Squads are being called out over two standard deviations above normal which would lead me to believe–"

"Hermione," Kingsley said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Will it help? Yes or no?"

She put her paperwork down and gave a small shrug. "It couldn't hurt."

"Of course not," Kingsley said, before his eyes connected with Harry's. "Captain Potter will liaison with you directly. The resources for Operation Downfall will be kept under his purview and temporarily reassigned to assist with ending the scourge of vacuums attacking the muggles."

Harry felt his heart drop.

"What–I–" Granger said, while everyone gathered their things around the table.

He and his entire team were supposed to be going on holiday. Their job well-done bonus! Not babysitting an investigation into the magical tampering of muggle electronics.

If that wasn't bad enough, working directly with Hermione Granger?

What a nightmare…

"Of course, sir," came Granger's voice.

"Good, good," Kingsley said as he glanced at the clock. "Right, our time's at an end. We'll reconvene at our next regularly scheduled meeting. You're all dismissed."

Like everyone else, Harry stood up and was about to file toward the exit when he felt a hand fall on his shoulder.

"Stay behind a moment," Kingsley said.

He nodded, unsure what this could possibly be about. He'd already done extensive debriefing with the Minister all week.

Perhaps it was an apology for taking away his holiday to deal with vacuums.

Sitting down on his chair again, Harry waited until the last stragglers left the room.

"I want to speak with you about Robards' replacement," Kingsley said before Harry could even open his mouth.

Well…that certainly wasn't what he'd been expecting.

"Sir," Harry said, shaking his head. "At the risk of sounding sentimental, he's just not replaceable. I mean…Proudfoot and Savage have the experience but aren't good leaders...Dawlish would've been the best candidate if he hadn't been so far up Fudge's arse he couldn't see straight. Moody is…well, Moody. And that really just leaves Tonks, who's great and all, but…."

"She's Tonks."

Harry couldn't help but smile. "That she is."

"I do agree with your assessment. Those with the experience are far from ideal…so that leaves those who lack it," he said, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. "Sort out this issue with Granger and there will be one clear front runner, Harry. While you lack tenure, everyone in the department respects you greatly. I know it's a bit sooner than any of us could have imagined…but Robards was grooming you to replace him. He wouldn't have wanted anyone else."

Harry's mouth felt too dry to speak.

"The DMLE and Granger's department work together regularly," he said, relaxing back into his chair. "I think the two of you could do great things for the Ministry. See to it that you start now."

Licking his lips, Harry nodded. "We will, sir."

Kingsley stood up. "I'm counting on it," he said. "And I'll be watching."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The sound of a knock on her door made Hermione look up.

It was Jacobi, one of her team leads. Her nostrils flared as if by reflex.

"What now?" she said as he lumbered his way in.

"Er…Smithson just gave his two weeks'," Jacobi said, handing over a piece of parchment.

Hermione swore to herself as she snatched it out of his hand, her eyes skimming over it quickly. "Burn out? Work-life balance?" she said. "What is this nonsense? Why didn't he come to me about this first? We could have negotiated something. Did you know about this?"

Looking a bit thrown off by all the questions, Jacobi blinked a few times before responding. "He came to me this morning while you were at your meeting…I tried encouraging him to set up a time to speak with you, but he said he'd made up his mind," he said. "His heart wasn't in it, he said. Feeling a bit overwhelmed."

"Overwhelmed?" Hermione said, feeling slightly hysterical. "He should have told me straight away. I could have stepped in. We could have prevented this!"

"Could you, Hermione?" Jacobi said, with one eyebrow raised. "We're drowning here, we can't keep lying to ourselves. And now we're going to have Potter and his lot breathing down our necks, ordering us around."

Shaking her head, Hermione rifled through her papers. "He should have told me," she repeated before exhaling slowly. "Go check in on our current staff, will you? Make sure no one is feeling 'overwhelmed' and that they all know how valued they are."

Jacobi stared at her for a moment, opening his mouth to say something before shaking his head and turning back around.

As soon as he left, Hermione dropped her head in her hands and let out a muffled scream.

Then, clearing her throat, she sat up straight, smoothed out her robes, and continued working.

Jacobi hadn't been gone a full minute before a knock sounded once more.

"What, did somebody else resign?" she said, snapping her head up in annoyance.

But it wasn't Jacobi. It was bloody Harry Potter.

Hermione felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her along with the faint, but ever-present swoop in her stomach.

She wasn't proud of it by any means, but her old school-girl crush had never fully faded. They'd barely even spoken at Hogwarts aside from a few notable moments that her teenage self had magnified to the tenth degree. He was in Gryffindor, she was in Ravenclaw. He was on the Quidditch pitch and she was in the library. There wasn't much opportunity for interaction.

But perhaps that was for the best. For if she'd known him better, she might have liked him less. And she preferred to preserve the image of the kind boy on the train in first year who'd asked if she wanted to join his compartment.

These days, her attraction was purely physical. And it was easily avoided with enough strength of mind.

Surprise encounters like this, however, sometimes left her off-kilter. But Hermione quickly brushed it off and got back to business. "My apologies, Captain Potter," she said. "I thought you were someone else."

Harry raised an eyebrow at her. "I hope that you'd speak to members of your department in the same manner you speak to anyone, Hermione."

Standing up straighter, Hermione looked him in the eye. "And I hope you wouldn't make generalisations about my leadership based on one interaction in a moment of stress," she said before adding: "Harry."

He stared at her for a few seconds before gesturing towards the chair. "May I take a seat?"

"Please," she said, sitting down as well.

She waited for him to open the conversation.

"Right, well…despite my passion for dustbusters, I'd rather not be involved in all this. And I suspect the feeling is mutual," he said. "But it's the Minister's orders, so I hope we can conduct ourselves with professionalism."

"Yes, very professional, making fun of my job," she said. "And original, too."

"Starting…now," Harry said before settling back in his chair. "Had to get one good joke in. Go on…even you can admit it's a ridiculous situation."

Hermione clenched her jaw. "You're right about one thing; the feeling is mutual. We don't want or need the DMLE in our business," she said, picking up her quill and dipping it into the inkwell. "I'm sure you have other, terribly important things to do."

"Oh, I'm sure I do, too," Harry said with a flat smile. "Namely, taking a holiday. Yet, here I am. Now hand over the file so I can take a look."

He was holding his hand out, and Hermione was filled with the sudden urge to do something very childish like slap it away.

Who was he to waltz in here and insert himself into their business? As if she needed to be in debt to Harry Potter, of all people.

And when the case was solved as it surely would be, who would get the credit?

Weeks and weeks' worth of work…all so the Minister's poster child could have the glory.

But, despite everything in her screaming not to, Hermione handed the file over.

It burned like acid inside her, but she couldn't let one case ruin her career. There were far greater things at stake here than her pride.

"I expect a detailed summary of your analysis by tomorrow, as well as a tentative new plan of action that I will review and provide feedback on," she said brusquely, standing up as a signal for him to leave.

He apparently didn't get the signal.

"Why not just discuss it in person together?" Harry said, looking up at her.

Hermione refrained from rolling her eyes. "Sure, Harry, let's just do everything your way."

"You're being sarcastic."

"Clearly."

With an unimpressed look, Harry stood up and made a duplicate of the file before handing it back to Hermione. "I'll be sure to provide my very detailed summary tomorrow."

x-x-x

"What the hell is this?" Hermione said, barging into Harry's office the next day and slamming the report on his desk.

He gave her an innocent look in return and picked up the scroll of parchment which unfurled all the way down to the floor.

"Ah, you received it," Harry said with a smile. "That is the very detailed summary that you requested."

"That is 1.5 metres of garrulous, sanctimonious, circumlocutory nonsense," she said, pointing her finger at it.

Harry simply shrugged. "I offered to sit down and talk through it all instead, but you preferred your own methods," he said. "It wouldn't do for me not to oblige."

They stared at each other for a moment, Hermione clenching her jaw tight.

"You're an arse," she said.

"You're not exactly a ball of sunshine yourself," Harry retorted before looking her up and down. "You know...McLaggen might be an absolute tosser, but maybe he had a point about you…"

The sound of that name brought a feeling of disgust to Hermione's insides.

Dating that idiot was the worst lapse in judgement she'd ever had, but it would haunt her for the rest of her days, it seemed.

"Yeah? How's that?" she said, crossing her arms and lifting her chin up.

Slouching back in his chair, he twirled his wand between his fingers. "If I recall, he compared you to a piece of chalk–dry, dusty, and terribly grating."

Hermione planted her arms on his desk to tower over him. "And I'd compare him to a dickhead," she said, leaning in. "Overly sensitive and utterly disappointing."

Harry's eyebrows lifted the barest amount before his face melted into a smile. "You're funny," he said as though it were a revelation.

"And you're still an arse," Hermione said before getting back to business. "I'm heading to Westminster tomorrow to gather more evidence. I suppose you'll have to join me, per Kingsley's orders."

"With a charming offer like that, how can I refuse?" Harry said.

Giving him her best withering look, Hermione turned on her heel and left the room.

x-x-x

It was with great weariness that Harry arrived at the Palace of Westminster the next morning. He'd had a terrible night's sleep, punctuated by nightmares ranging from realistic to downright ridiculous.

The last one he'd had before waking up that morning involved Hermione. She'd been wearing a powdered wig and parliamentary robes, sitting high above him in a large chamber. He couldn't remember all the details, but at some point she'd sentenced him to a lifetime in Azkaban for selling dustbusters in Knockturn Alley that were programmed to spout off insults.

It only confirmed the fact that he really needed a bloody holiday.

Yet, here he was, standing in the central lobby. His team would be following shortly to see to their assigned tasks.

The Prime Minister had ensured the corridor to the House of Lords would be blocked off, but Harry sensed some muggle-repelling charms added by Hermione's team for extra assurance.

He pulled out his wand to scan for magic, active or inactive as he made his way to the meeting point. It was doubtful he'd find anything of importance, but criminals often weren't the brightest. And though he'd never say it to Hermione's face, the Magical Reversal Squad was comprised of a bunch of Auror-dropouts and dunderheads.

Why someone as intelligent as her was placed in the position to lead them, he'd never know. But alas.

When Harry finally reached the chamber, he paused for a moment to take in the majestic sight. It was lavishly decorated with deep red furnishing, ornate golden walls, and centuries' old paintings. At the far end of the chamber was a large gilded throne sitting on a dais.

In moments like these, he sometimes got the vindictive urge to snap a photograph to send to the Dursleys. Unfettered access to the entire House of Lords? Oh, how he'd love to rub it in their shocked faces.

But that would involve acknowledging their existence, which he always preferred not to do. The triumphant thought would be enough to sustain him for now.

"Morning," Hermione said, instantly souring his mood.

He turned to face her and grunted in reply.

Every time he saw her, he was reminded that her department's incompetence was the reason he wasn't on holiday at the moment.

Was it immature? Of course. Did he care? Not in the slightest.

"I've just briefed the teams," she said, glancing down at her notepad. "Mine will be sweeping the exterior while yours work through the interior."

"You just briefed the teams?" he said. "My team included?"

"Yes," she said, lifting her head up.

Harry's eyes narrowed. "You don't have authority to command my team," he said. "Not without my permission."

Hugging the notepad to her chest, Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I think you'll find that I do," she said. "I'm a department head. I don't need your permission to command personnel brought in to assist on my department's projects."

"Your department shouldn't need the assistance of my personnel, to begin with," he said, leaning in closer.

"My department didn't choose to have any of you here!" she said, her eyes flashing.

Opening his mouth, Harry paused and shut it, letting out a short huff. "You might have regulation on your side, but you don't have the respect. Direct my team all you want, but they'll only humour you. Because when push comes to shove–when it really matters, they'll look to me," he said, shoving a finger in his own chest. "They'll look to me!"

His voice echoed in the empty chamber causing a few heads to turn their way.

Hermione stared at him in silence.

He didn't realise he was breathing heavily until it was the only sound in the room.

"Respect is for those who deserve it, not those who demand it," Hermione said in a calm voice. "Perhaps one day I might deserve yours."

Her words shocked him into silence.

She turned around before he could respond, but Harry followed after her.

"Hermione," he said, catching up to her. "Hermione, wait."

"I really don't have time to–"

"I'm sorry," he said, standing in front of her. "I didn't sleep well last night, and I'm irritable. I know that's no excuse, but…I'm sorry. Again."

Searching his face, Hermione pursed her lips and took a moment before replying. "Let's just get back to work and forget about it."

He nodded, all too happy to do so.

He wasn't sure what had come over him. Despite being the current thorn in his side, Hermione hadn't deserved one bit of that. But Merlin, did she really know how to rile him up.

"Your team is familiar with how the muggle world works?"

"Yes," he said.

Obviously.

"And they read through the updated policies for the procedural guidelines of non-interference on electronics, paying particular notice to pages seven, eleven, and sixteen?"

He doubted anyone had made it past the introduction.

It was a comprehensive treatise on how magic impacted muggle electronics. Harry had barely flipped through it himself.

It was rather simple, really; don't cast magic on electronics or else they go boom.

"I would have to assume so," he said.

She looked up from her notes, raising an eyebrow. "Good," she said, snapping her book shut. "Then I'll start with the Derby Room.

He shrugged. "Okay," he said. "I'll start here."

x-x-x

Despite everything, Harry had to give Hermione's team credit. Their work required a level of physical and mental stamina that he simply was not used to. The Lords' chamber was deceivingly large and every corner of it needed to be poked and prodded with a series of spells.

It was dreadfully tedious work.

Having started at the top, Harry was now working through the central portion near the large red-leather benches. Bending over to examine bench after bench was starting to make his back ache.

But he had to hand it to Hermione. The spell guide in her treatise was so precise and detailed that any old plonker could manage it. And it definitely made the process easier.

It was a neat bit of magic, too.

If he held his wand over the word for three seconds, it played a recording of Hermione giving the correct pronunciation along with a three-dimensional visual of the wand movement.

"WingArdium LeviOsa."

"VEstigiUm TeNebRis."

Harry was strongly considering swallowing his pride and petitioning Kingsley for approval to redo the Auror training handbook with Hermione's help.

But that was a thought for later. Right now, there were still four more benches in this section to check. And five more sets of sections all together. He'd barely even scratched the surface.

Sighing, he stretched out his back before getting down on his knees once more.

x-x-x

"How was the library?" Harry asked, his legs dangling back and forth as he sat atop one of the desks.

Hermione glanced up at him, her eyes resting on his shoes. "You shouldn't be sitting like that," she said, her nose wrinkled. "It's disrespectful."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Right, I'm sure it's this they'll be concerned with and not the vacuums attacking their arses again."

Pursing her lips, Hermione looked back down at her notepad. "It's vacua," she said.

"Pardon?"

"Vak-yoo-uh," she said, sounding it out as if he were an idiot. "The correct plural form of vacuum. Not vacuums."

He shook his head and hopped off the desk. "Whatever," he said. "Let's go check in on the teams. Sorry–the teamua."

Hermione let out a laugh that she quickly covered up with a clearing of her throat. But before either of them could acknowledge it, she wordlessly led the way out of the chamber.

There was no denying it, though. He'd made Hermione Granger laugh.

Why it felt so thrilling, he didn't know. But he found himself hoping he'd be able to manage it again.

As they entered Peer's Lobby, Harry was swiftly brought back to the present. Both he and Hermione came to a halt as a great clamouring sounded ahead of them.

His gut sank and Harry sprinted forward ahead of her, his wand out in front of him.

But the scene they arrived at was…confusing.

Three of his aurors were standing back to back in the centre of the room, their wands at the ready. Nearly a hundred or more vacua littered the area, but they seemed to be idle, docile–dumbfoundedly, so.

The very next moment–at precisely the wrong moment–the doors opened to reveal Kingsley with the Prime Minister abreast of him and his team trailing behind.

As soon as the muggles crossed into the room, it seemed as though a trigger had been pulled. At once, every single dustbuster turned feral. Demonic.

With tremendous speed, they attacked–biting, gnashing, ripping apart. Creating an inescapable ruckus as they went.

"Barriers, people!" Harry yelled out, slashing his wand through the air to create a protective shield around the muggles. "Contain the bloody things, pen them up!"

Hermione had already begun working in tandem with him, herding the vacua away from the entries with swift and precise wandwork.

It didn't take long for them to block off all the exits, sequestering the dustbusters into a single shielded area where they couldn't do any more damage. Harry was just about to approach his team to find out what the hell had happened when the door burst open to reveal Kingsley once more.

He was alone this time, stalking towards them with a furious look on his face. "My office," he said through gritted teeth. "As soon as you've got this sorted. I need to go deal with the Prime Minister now."

With that, he turned and walked back out.

Harry sighed and rubbed his temples. This day had just gone from bad to worse.

x-x-x

Though The Minister would surely tear into him for it, Harry took a detour to Hermione's office after they'd returned to the Ministry.

While he wanted nothing more than to apparate home and crawl into bed, he needed to speak to her. Because if he was going to be the Director, he would have to start acting like it.

And the captain always took responsibility for his or her teams' actions.

With a deep breath, Harry braced himself and knocked on her office door.

He didn't hear an immediate response, so he tried again. "Hey," he said. "It's me, Harry."

After another few seconds, she finally answered.

"Come in."

He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but Harry was surprised by the sight that met him. Her hair was an unruly mess, and as she brushed away at her cheeks, he could see that her eyes were puffy.

Though she tried, there was no hiding it. Hermione had been crying.

His mouth opened to say something, but his words seemed to catch in his throat. He was finding that simple human reactions seemed so shocking when they came from Hermione.

She'd just always felt so distant, so guarded. Even a bit robotic in the way she moved throughout the world.

Though they'd been in the same year at Hogwarts, he'd barely known her.

Though they worked on the same floor, attended the same monthly meetings, passed each other daily in the same corridors, she was only ever Hermione Granger–the intelligent, ambitious, frustrating, insufferable, inspiring figure in his periphery.

But even three days working alongside her had proven how utterly one-dimensional his perspective had been.

And he had a feeling he'd only scratched the surface.

"Tell me, Harry," she spoke up after a moment, her eyes tired. "Do you hate me so much that you'd want me sacked?"

Feeling completely thrown off, Harry struggled to form the words to respond. "Wha–what are you talking about?"

She shook her head. "You really thought I wouldn't figure it out?" she said, looking hurt. "I'm many things, Potter, but I'm not daft."

The air between them was growing tenser by the second. "Figure out what, exactly?" he said, his words pointed.

"That it was a set-up," she said, slamming her hands against the desk as she stood up. "I placed visual orbs in every room in the event something were to happen. And guess what? Something did happen. Something I sure as hell didn't expect. Your Aurors sabotaged us!"

Gritting his teeth, Harry shook his head. "Don't you dare toss out accusations about my team. I know them, I'd trust each of them with my own life," he said, his voice rising. "I'd like to see what proof you have to back any of this up."

With a swish of her wand, the portrait on the wall behind her changed to a black screen. Another wave and it started playing a recording of the lobby with his team working away, sweeping the area for any magical traces.

"Your proof," she said, practically spitting the word out.

The scene played out at two-times speed. They were working together–a bit sloppily, sure. But there was no sign of 'sabotage'.

A few seconds in, Padma seemed to set off something that caused the dustbusters to appear.

While the mistake was uncharacteristic, the team's response wasn't. The three Aurors moved into position so that all their backs were to each other. They immediately fired off defensive spells just as Harry would expect them to.

What Harry didn't expect, however, was the sudden shift in their behaviour. Almost in unison, they all let their wands fall to their sides, standing aimlessly as the vacua circled around them.

"What…" Harry breathed, watching closely.

The very next second Harry and Hermione burst through the doors, firing their own spells just moments before the Prime Minister and his team entered as well.

To any observer, it would appear as though his team had sabotaged the situation. But that didn't make any sense. Not least of all because the sooner they were done with this case, the sooner they would finally be on holiday.

But more importantly than that, none of them were interested in painting Hemione in a bad light.

And none of them were blood purists who gained amusement from harming muggles.

For Merlin's sake, they'd just fought and lost a team member in their effort to wrangle up the last of the Death Eaters!

No, there must be another explanation. This must have been a mistake. A misunderstanding.

But perhaps…a voice whispered in his head, slipping through the cracks of every wall of denial.

Perhaps supporting Death Eaters and being a bigot could be mutually exclusive.

Harry's stomach felt like lead as he considered for the first time that one of his team members could be a traitor.

Shifting his gaze towards Hermione, he noted the glassy look in her eyes.

And he was shaken by the fact that she could really believe he'd intentionally do something like this to her.

But any chance he had to alleviate her concerns was interrupted by a Lynx patronus bursting through the door.

"When I told you to meet me in my office," Kingsley's voice rang out, "it wasn't a suggestion!"

It seemed Harry would have to clear this up later.

All of this.

x-x-x

"Tell me," Kingsley said, pacing back and forth behind his desk whilst Hermione and Harry sat in front of it. "Are you deliberately trying to sink the Ministry?"

"No, sir."

"No?" Kingsley asked, snapping his head toward them. "Because I distinctly remember asking you two to discreetly investigate the scene before the muggles showed up. And what did we arrive to find? A trap. Muggle-baiting at its finest."

"But, sir,' Hermione started before a glare from Kingsley caused her to shut her mouth.

"It took everything I had to keep them from calling their loans," he said, pausing in his step to stare down at them. "And do you know what happens if they decide to do that?"

He didn't wait for them to respond.

"You can kiss my job goodbye!" he said, shoving a finger in his chest. "Then Hermione's, then Dirk's, then every other half-blood, muggleborn or so-called 'blood traitor' in any position of prominence or power in the Ministry. The purebloods will take over once more because they sure as hell have the means to do it."

Kingsley gripped the back of his chair as he dropped his head and let out a long sigh. "I will not allow incompetence to seep through and rot the shaky foundation we took so long building after Fudge," he said, picking his head back to bore his gaze into theirs. "We've worked too bloody hard and long to end up right back where we started."

Harry knew that years' worth of strict reform had only led them to be barely solvent. It was with the aid of the Muggle Ministry that they were finally able to get back into a stable position. But if they had to start paying back any principal portions of the loans…

"Sir, please…" Hermione said. "Just give my team one more chance to–"

"I've given you three chances, Granger!" Kingsley said, throwing his hands up in frustration. "I expected better from you, I truly did. But you've embarrassed me in front of my colleagues and single-handedly brought upon the possible downfall of the Ministry that you know and love."

Harry glanced at Hermione out of the corner of his eye and saw her face go white as a sheet.

"With all due respect, sir, that's a bit dramatic," Harry said in a calm but direct tone. "And also highly unfair. It was my team that botched this one up, and we have the recordings to prove it. I'll be questioning each of them to determine what went wrong. But if anyone should feel embarrassed, it's me."

With a loud exhale, Kingsley rubbed at his temples and took a seat. "I don't care whose fault it is. I understand your team is grieving the loss of Robards, and I admit, it was my mistake to bring you in on this," he said. "But I didn't expect it to take this long to get a Level One issue resolved. So…if you two can't manage it by the end of this week, you'll be removed from the case and there will be consequences."

Harry didn't need it spelled out for him. He wouldn't be getting that Director spot. Or perhaps Kingsley had made up his mind, and it was off the table already.

Maybe that was for the best.

He dismissed them both after that, and Harry followed Hermione out of the office. She was walking way too fast for him, and he nearly lost her in a crowd coming out of the lift.

Spotting her near the end of the corridor by a window, he jogged over to her.

"Please leave me alone," she said quietly, seeing his reflection in the glass. "I'll meet you at your office later."

Harry paused, surprised to hear the defeated tone in her voice. He almost preferred the anger, the sarcasm, the bite. Anything but this. This didn't feel like Hermione.

"Listen…I just want to say…you have a right to be upset with me," he said, positioning himself beside her in the hopes that she'd look at him. "I know I haven't taken this very seriously from the start. I acted immaturely, I displaced my frustrations onto you. But…I swear to you, I have no idea what happened to my team."

She continued staring stubbornly forward.

"They would never do this on purpose," he continued anyway. "I told you before, I trust them with my life."

"Well, I don't!" she said, snapping her head towards him. "Why should I? I don't even trust you."

Her words cut deeper than he would have expected them to. Swallowing hard, he shifted his weight on his feet. "You honestly believe I could have a secret blood purist agenda? Or that I have some sort of vendetta against you?" he said, furrowing his eyebrows at her. "You think that low of me?"

Crossing her arms, Hermione turned to face him fully. "You act as if I should have any opinion of you at all," she said. "Just because you're Harry Potter doesn't mean you get a free pass. You've got to earn my trust and respect."

She turned on her heel to walk away, but Harry followed after her.

"Who says I get a free pass?"

With a loud laugh, she continued walking.

"You think that just because of who I am, things come easy for me?" he said, falling in step with her. "You think I haven't put in every ounce of effort that you have?"

Stopping abruptly, she turned to face him, her arms falling to her sides. "No, Harry, that's not what I think," she said. "You've worked hard, there's no denying that. But I do think that the people around you wanted you to succeed. They assumed the best of you, celebrated your wins with you. And that's more than I could ever say for myself."

"And whose fault is that?" he said, spreading his arms out. "You place everyone at such a distance that they have no choice but to turn away."

"Oh, don't pretend to know who I am all of a sudden."

"I know the parts you show," Harry said loudly. "Your department is terrified of you, and your colleagues find you insufferable. It's like you intentionally put up this shield to prevent people from getting close… How can you expect anyone to want a leader like that? To want a friend like that?"

Hermione stared at him for a moment, her jaw clenched tightly. "Please don't delude yourself into thinking that I'm not aware of my faults," she said, her eyes searching his. "I've spent more years than you can imagine learning to accept that being different comes at a cost. Intelligence, ambition–it makes people uncomfortable."

Shifting her gaze away, she shook her head. "But I'm not naive enough to believe they can sustain me," she said, hugging her arms to herself. "Loneliness is a terrible companion."

Her words lingered in the air as Harry struggled to find a response.

The sun coming in through the window was casting a golden glow across her face, making her brown eyes shine amber in the light. At that moment, she looked so different to him. Younger, more vulnerable. The freckles that he'd never noticed before softening her features.

There was a beauty about her that seemed almost quiet. And when her eyes started to well up with tears, Harry felt a rush of protectiveness towards her that he knew was absurd.

For Hermione was the last person that needed protecting. But he wondered if, perhaps, she sometimes wanted it.

Letting a small breath escape through his parted lips, he finally spoke. "You're wrong about one thing," he said, conjuring a handkerchief and handing it to her. "You only make some people uncomfortable."

She accepted it, clutching it between her fingers.

"Loneliness is a choice, Hermione," he said, placing his wand back in his pocket.

Her piercing gaze seemed to scorch its way to his chest, and he let out a shaky breath as he turned and walked away.

x-x-x

The sound of a knock on her door made Hermione's pulse quicken.

She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, mentally chastising herself. This was getting out of hand.

For the last two days, her 'purely physical feelings' for Harry were developing into something much scarier. But she dared not entertain those thoughts. Not when she had one more day to solve this case and save her career.

Not ever, preferably.

After this was all over, everything would go back to normal.

They'd move back into each other's peripheries–two professional colleagues going about their individual business. One ignoring the other's existence; the other checking out the one's arse occasionally when no one was looking.

"Coffee?"

Hermione looked up to see Harry standing at her door with two cups levitating in front of him.

"Erm, sure," she said with some hesitation, grabbing it as it floated towards her.

He was doing this odd thing lately, where he was being nice to her.

It was frustrating.

"I assume you take it black," Harry said as he sat down across from her.

She stared at him as she wordlessly accio'd a cup of milk and some sugar cubes.

A smile spread across Harry's face as each cube dropped into the coffee, one after the other with a light splash.

"So," he said, resting his elbows against the armrests. "I had a talk with each of my team members about what happened the other day with the vacua–"

Hermione flicked her eyes up at him.

"None of them seem to have any clear recollection of the events. They were all able to describe their actions in detail up until the point the dustbusters appeared."

With a frown, Hermione considered this. "But none of my team or any of the Obliviators noted anything of the sort," she said.

Harry shrugged. "Maybe it's a new development. Maybe whoever is behind this decided demonic dustbusters weren't enough. Maybe they wanted to make them dumbfounding as well."

She rolled her eyes in response. "Or maybe you just have an odd obsession with alliteration," she said, opening her file to add this new information in.

With a grin, he leant back in his seat. "Not fond of the name?" he said. "Fair enough. What would you prefer to call them, then?"

"I don't particularly care, Harry," she said, dipping her quill into the inkwell. "They're violent. Simple as that."

Letting out a thoughtful hum, Harry nodded. "No, no, you're right. It's a very silly name, what was I thinking?" he said, steepling his fingers. "And now that you mention it, the vacua don't really cause dumbfoundedness at all. They cause…vacuity?"

"Well, I suppose that does seem to be the ca–"

Hermione paused as her brain processed all his nonsense, and then she looked up at Harry, who immediately burst out laughing.

Shaking her head, she couldn't help but crack a smile as well. "Are you always this ridiculous?"

He grinned. "Only when I'm comfortable with someone."

Her heart skipped.

She glanced up at him, but he was too busy dragging her file over. He took the quill from her hand and crossed out the name at the top before replacing it with the words:

The Case of the Violent Vacua of Vacuity

"There," he said, meeting her gaze. "All better."

Hermione stared at him for a moment, his green eyes alight with mischief.

"Right, well…we still have the matter of everything else," she said, looking down at her desk again. "I'll need to alert the Magical Reversal Squad about the possible Confundus Charms, so they're prepared to fight them off. But that still leaves the main question–who's responsible for all this? And why? Since the beginning, we've been one step behind, putting out the fires but never getting to the source. We're running in circles, and it's exhausting everyone at this point. And now my job is on the line."

"Well…maybe that's it," Harry said with a shrug. "Maybe it's less about muggle prejudice and more about sabotage. After what happened the other day, you made the assumption I wanted to embarrass you. Maybe you were onto something…"

Hermione opened her mouth to retort, but he continued.

"Is there anyone else at the Ministry or outside it that has a vendetta against you?" Harry said.

She let out a dry laugh. "It would be easier to name the people who don't," she said. "You said it yourself, people find me insufferable. I imagine humiliating me and wanting me sacked is not out of the realm of possibility."

Harry stared at her with his lips parted. "You know I don't share that sentiment," he said. "I was only making a point."

Taking a sip of her coffee she shrugged. "Well, it was the correct point," she said. "But I don't care what people think of me, Harry. Not those people, anyway. I'm passionate about the things that matter to me and that intimidates them. But I'm not going to sacrifice my passion to win favour or friendship."

"That's a very bold statement."

"I'm a very bold person."

Licking his lips, Harry nodded.

He then cast his eyes downward for a moment, as if considering something.

Sticking his hand in his pocket, he pulled out a wrinkled letter and placed it between them. "You're also very kind," he said.

Hermione eyed the letter before looking back up at him in question.

"You sent this to me after Robards' death," he said, gesturing towards it. "I didn't realise it then, but I do now–or…did. A few days ago."

She hadn't signed it, preferring to stay anonymous. It felt too intimate a letter to be sent from a mere colleague. But Hermione had meant every word.

Though she struggled with relationships, she'd always been good at recognising emotion. Perhaps that was one of the reasons relationships were so difficult to begin with. She could easily sense when someone was growing irritated, uncomfortable, or bored with her. So it was easier to just…give up.

Hermione had sensed Harry's complicated grief from a mile away. She couldn't imagine the pain he must have gone through to see his mentor sacrifice himself for the team. The thought had lingered with her for so long that she felt compelled to send him some words of comfort.

Despite everything, she'd always held a soft spot for him.

"'The death of a soldier often brings guilt to his comrade. Though both equal in bravery, one's life outlasts the other'," Harry read aloud. "'As does one's pain.'"

Folding up the letter, he looked at her with his brows furrowed. "I read it often–that line in particular," he said. "It brings me comfort for some reason. Just a sort of…acknowledgement, I suppose. That I'm not mad for feeling the way I do."

"You're the furthest thing from mad," Hermione said with an intensity that seemed to take both of them by surprise. She then glanced away and swallowed. "Erm…how did you know it was from me?"

He shrugged. "I wish I could say it was because I recognised you on the page, but…it was your handwriting," he said with a self-deprecating look. "I've seen a lot of it lately."

She smiled in return.

And then Harry stared at her for a moment, his face softening in a way that captivated her attention.

"Thank you, Hermione," he said, his voice low. "You went out of your way to send this to me before we even became friends… That takes a kindness that I can't even begin to fathom."

Friends.

Hermione exhaled softly.

"And for what it's worth…" he said, his eyes shifting down to her mouth before slowly moving back up again. "You don't intimidate me. You never have."

It was ridiculous how such a simple statement stirred a long-forgotten feeling back to life.

x-x-x

It was the day of reckoning.

The crack of doom.

The end of the world…

Harry smiled to himself, thinking of how Hermione would roll her eyes every time he came up with something new.

They arrived together at Westminster that Friday morning, Hermione looking paler than usual and Harry doing his best to relax her.

There were even more teams on site this time, but the central lobby looked the same. Detection spells were showing up clean.

The entire section of the building had been under heavy surveillance since the last incident–multiple teams spread throughout under a unique style of disillusionment charm which allowed those with the passcode to be able to see each other. Harry and Hermione had placed it on themselves as well before the muggles started arriving.

So far, there was no hint of an oncoming disturbance.

No sign of the Violent Vacua of Vacuity.

With a sigh, Harry listened in as one of Hermione's blokes gave his report.

"We followed Director Granger's multi-step plan to perfection–"

"Did you double-check the pronunciations?" Harry interjected from his spot atop the desk, causing Hermione to side-eye him.

"Er...yes, Captain Potter," the man said, looking caught off guard. "But we haven't found anything yet."

Hermione pursed her lips before thanking him. "Just continue keeping an eye on those coming and going and report back to us if anything seems even slightly amiss," she said, before adding a quick, "and…good work out there. All of you."

The man bowed his head respectfully before going back to his post.

"So," Harry said, turning to her. "Will there be another attempt at a debacle today, do you think?"

She nodded stiffly. "It's a big day for the House of Lords. They're gathering to discuss the possible appeal of the–"

Holding up a hand, Harry stopped her. "We're on a mission, Hermione. 'Yes', 'no', or direct answers only," he said before placing his hand on her shoulder and leaning in. "You can tell me all about the House of Lords and their possible appeal when you're sitting in your director's chair next week."

The barest of smiles reached her lips in response. "You're awfully confident for someone who got outwitted by a muggle cleaning device."

"See?" he said, pointing a finger at her. "Now, you're getting the ridiculousness of it all."

She let out a small laugh before something behind him made her stiffen and back away from him.

Harry turned and saw Kingsley walking towards them.

"Get off the bloody desk, Potter," he said before doing a quick perusal of the room. "How are things looking?"

The two exchanged a glance.

"All teams are in position and every nook and cranny has been scanned and cleared," Harry said, smoothing his robes down as he stood next to Hermione. "We should be good."

"Should be?"

"We trust our teams, sir," Hermione added quickly.

Kingsley appraised them for a moment and nodded. "Good," he said before pausing as if considering something. "Things seem to be working out much more harmoniously with you two. I'm happy to see it. I had a feeling you'd work well together."

"Why's that?" Harry couldn't help but ask.

The man shrugged. "You're as much alike as you are different," he said. "Night and day in your methods. But both passionate about your work."

Placing a rough hand on Harry's shoulder, he glanced at both of them. "Trust your teams, remember? And don't let me down," he said before walking off.

Harry turned to look at Hermione and was surprised to find her staring at him already.

But he didn't have time to think on Kingsley's words further. Because at that moment, lines of people began filing into the lobby.

"Let's get into position," Harry said, patting her elbow. "Did you want to give the order?"

Parting her lips, Hermione nodded before speaking into her wand to send a message. "All teams take positions. I want a mix in each lobby, DMLE and DOPAIMU teams interspersed."

"That really rolls off the tongue," Harry said, earning a very non-threatening glare.

After hearing each team check in over the communication line, Harry and Hermione made their way to the chamber's entrance and stood on either side.

"Do you think they'll try and sneak in with the muggles?" she said.

Harry shrugged. "They'll have to, this is the only entrance," he said. "Let's just hope they do a shit job of blending in."

Biting her lip, Hermione looked around. "They could plant a magical item on a muggle that could trigger it, too."

Humming his agreement, Harry discreetly cast more detection spells before addressing her again. "You're getting antsy. I can practically feel the neurotic energy radiating off you," he said. "As Robards drilled into my head since the first day of training: Trust your teams. They know what they're doing."

"Well, someone has to balance out your complete and utter nonchalance," she hissed.

Harry smiled. "Neurotic and nonchalant…what a pair we make, eh?" he said, bumping his shoulder against hers.

"Oh, don't you dare start with the alliteration now," she said, laughing despite herself.

Giving her a wink, he turned back to face the corridor where throngs of people continued to walk through the door. It took about fifteen minutes before the final straggler entered the chamber.

"Nothing?" he said, as Hermione cast the final detection spell.

She subtly shook her head.

Harry let out a breath. "Right, we should be good, then."

They had a great plan. Foolproof, even.

At least that's what he wanted to believe.

But if being an Auror had taught him anything, it was that even the best of plans never worked out perfectly. There were too many variables in real life to account for. Enemies and opponents that were smart enough and dynamic enough to adjust to their countermeasures.

But he dared not speak his thoughts aloud lest he cause Hermione to go into a frenzy.

"We should head inside the chamber," he said instead.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Why? You think we missed something?"

"No," he said, gripping his wand tighter. "But if something does go down, it's going to take place in there."

Her brown eyes bored into him but she acceded, following his lead as he entered through the giant oak doors.

The room felt much smaller than it had the other day, filled to the brim with members standing almost shoulder to shoulder.

"I'll make my way round the left, you go right, along the main floor?" he said.

She nodded, and Harry watched her head past the Bar of the House while he moved toward the Government's side.

Every time he cleared a set of benches, he paused to check on Hermione's progress. She was slightly behind his pace, but her eyes were darting everywhere, looking for anything amiss.

But there was nothing.

Everyone was either paying attention, falling asleep, zoning out, debating, or causing the normal amount of ruckus one might expect from a room filled with stuffy old government officials.

Yet, Harry couldn't shake the sinking feeling in his stomach. His instincts were never far off the mark, and at the moment, his hands felt jittery, his blood was pumping faster through his veins.

Something was wrong.

Kingsley was standing in the corner off to the side of the Chairs of State, frowning and looking as tense as Harry had ever seen him.

Hermione was heading towards the final set of rows on her side. Her wand still outstretched, trying to detect any issues.

It was when she reached the halfway point that Harry noticed a flash of light.

Or rather…a reflection of light off a mop of pale blonde hair towards the back of the room.

He was just about to send a discreet signal when Hermione spotted the blonde as well. The two women seemed to make eye contact for a moment before the latter took off through the doors toward the Victoria Gallery.

And without even stopping to think, Hermione raced off in that direction as well.

Swearing loudly, Harry bolted right after them, speaking into his wand as he ran. "What the hell are you doing?" he yelled. "You never run off alone. Never!"

She didn't respond, perhaps out of stubbornness or perhaps something else. Either way, dread was filling his gut.

Anyone capable of sneaking past multiple lines of defence was dangerous.

As he ran across the corridors, he cursed himself for his oversight. They'd gone over how to locate traps, how to detect a possible culprit. But when it came to the actual capture, he'd always assumed it would be him or his team running down the criminal.

Trained professionals.

Not bloody Hermione. With her reckless bravery and blind sense of duty. She wasn't arrogant, she wasn't attention-seeking. She simply couldn't stand by and watch a bad thing happen without forcing her will into fixing it.

And he both loved and hated that about her.

Skidding into the main lobby, Harry gripped the edge of the mahogany wall, his fingers pressing into the grooves.

He whipped his head to the left, then back to the right.

Where the hell had they gone?

"Hermione?" he spoke into his wand again. "I need your location. Talk to me."

Silence.

"Hermione?" he said again with more force.

He tried to listen for them, but his heart was beating erratically in his ears.

He tried to cast a detection spell, but there was too much interference from all the others cast earlier.

"Bloody buggering–" he said, slamming his palm against the wall.

But it was at that precise moment that he heard a crash.

Without any hesitation, Harry ran toward it, his feet pounding against the floor. The large open room gave way, and he tore into the next narrowed corridor.

Spotting a door slightly ajar at the end, he gripped his wand with his clammy hand and slid to a halt in front of it.

It was marked 'Janitorial Supplies'.

Harry felt his heart leap as he spotted the back of Hermione's head through the door.

He silently crept closer, brushing away the sweat from his brows and trying to even out his breathing. He needed a better visual of the situation. Taking a leaf out of Hermione's book, he conjured an orb and charmed it with a disillusionment spell before sending it through the small opening of the door.

A mirror appeared in front of him, reflecting the current scene inside the room. The blonde-haired woman was standing with her back to the wall, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

"Surrender peacefully," Hermione said, holding her wand with both her hands. "You don't need to make this any worse."

"I–I can't," the woman whispered, shaking her head. "You don't understand…They'll–they'll hurt my son. My Gabriel."

"Put the weapon down so we can talk through this. Gabriel doesn't have to get hurt," Hermione said, a small waver in her voice.

Weapon?

Harry squinted at the slightly fuzzy edges of the mirror, and his heart leapt to his throat when he noticed the woman holding a small pistol out in front of her.

Everything in him was burning to swing the door open and run in, push Hermione to the side and take this woman down. But he knew any sudden entry could make her tense up. And with Hermione as the target in front of her?

No, he couldn't risk it. He'd have to wait for the perfect moment, and he had to trust that Hermione could de-escalate the situation.

"But he will," the woman said, her voice shaky, fragile. "Because they always get their bloody way!"

"Who does?" Hermione asked.

"My family!" the blonde yelled out. "But especially him. He's always tormented me, but it's been worse than ever since the Ministry fell from between their fingers."

Harry was getting worried as the shakiness in the woman's voice grew.

"I need you to be more clear," Hermione said calmly. "Who's tormenting you?"

"My brother! First-born, beloved child of my parents," the woman spat out. "Ever since the new Minister took over, that's all I hear about from him. Blood traitors and mudbloods…as if any of it matters to me. As if I care about their silly blood feuds when I've never even been granted a single taste of their world!"

Hermione shook her head, seeming at a loss for words. "Who…who are you?" she said.

The woman stared at her, her jaw clenched tight. "My name is Bianca," she said. "Bianca Campos nee Malfoy."

Harry felt a wave of shock pass through him. Another Malfoy? How?

"The deal was…if I don't do my part in ensuring the muggle government turns on The Ministry of Magic...then they'll take him away from me," she said, tears spilling from her eyes now. "They'll take my son…my angel."

"Bianca…that's not a deal. That's a threat," Hermione said in a gentle voice. "Why would they take him from you in the first place?"

"Because they hate him!" she shouted. "They hate what he represents. The product of a loving union between a pureblood squib and a muggle. Not that my pureblood status ever mattered until now, of course."

Hermione's eyebrows rose in response. "You're…"

"A squib, yes," she said coldly. "Damned to a hellish life since birth. But I refuse–I refuse–to let my son live through what I lived through. And it's for that reason…that I'll need to stop you, Hermione Granger."

Swallowing hard, Harry got into position.

"How do you know my name?" Hermione said.

"I know all of your names," Bianca said. "I was trained against my will, but I was trained well. And I know Harry Potter is somewhere waiting for us, too. For me."

"But it's too late," she said, giving Hermione a pained smile. "The vacuums are set to attack the muggles. The whole chamber will be flooded with them and the previous attacks will look like child's play compared to the bloodbath ahead."

At that moment, Harry felt his wand vibrate, and he quickly put it up to his ear.

"Captain Potter, I've tried communicating with Director Granger but I haven't received a response," came Jacobi's voice. "We've found and disarmed close to 100 vacua and successfully countered the Gemino Charm that was placed on them. The muggles weren't disturbed and they do not need to be evacuated. Do you read me?"

"Loud and clear," Harry said, feeling a swell of relief at his words. "Excellent work, thank you."

Cutting off the line, Harry held his wand out and finally busted into the room.

"They're called vacua," he said. "Bianca Campos nee Malfoy."

Both women whipped their heads towards him in surprise.

"See? I know names, too," Harry said with a dry smile, positioning himself in front of Hermione. "Now put down the gun, Campos. Your plan's been foiled and this ridiculous vendetta ends here."

"The Vendetta of the Violent Vacua of Vacuity," Hermione spoke up over his shoulder.

With a quick glance behind him, Harry shook his head in awe. "Blimey, is this what love feels like?" he said, causing her to blush.

But unfortunately, the exchange was short-lived. For it seemed that Bianca had realised she was backed into a corner and had finally had enough.

Both Harry and Hermione shot their wands at the same time that she pulled her trigger.

He watched the bullet flying as if in slow motion, a hair's breadth past his wand arm. Without a second thought, he reached back to grab Hermione and push her out of the way. But it was too late. Despite the giant blue shield that erupted out of her wand, the bullet flew right through, encased in a white flame and rushing towards her like a meteor.

The impact caused Hermione to blast backwards into the wall and Harry let out a roar that vibrated throughout the room.

His own spell had made impact with Bianca, causing her to be knocked unconscious to the floor. But he didn't even spare a glance behind him as he raced over to Hermione.

Running his wand over her, he checked all her vital signs and gasped in relief to find there was still a strong heartbeat. He sent out a Patronus to Kingsley to call a mediwizard before turning his attention back to the woman lying before him.

"Hermione," he said, brushing a hand down the side of her face. "Hermione, wake up. Please. I'll do anything. I'll...I'll never make fun of you again...No more alliteration…I'll get your coffee just right…And you can tell me all about the history of Parliament. And I'll listen…to every single word. I'll never stop listening."

He squeezed his eyes tight and hissed through his teeth. "Come on," he whispered, pressing his forehead against her shoulder.

"What the hell are you going on about…?" Hermione said, her voice weak.

Harry snapped his eyes open, and he saw her blinking tiredly back up at him.

"I get shot by a bullet and you're talking to me about Parliament?" she said with the ghost of a smile. "I would have at least expected–"

Without thinking, Harry cut off whatever else she was about to say by pressing his lips to hers.

He might regret it later, and he would definitely hear about it. But at that moment, all he could do was pour in every ounce of relief, frustration, and happiness into the kiss.

And she returned it.

Wholeheartedly and passionately.

And for now, that was all that mattered.

The case was closed.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"I love coming here," Hermione said, sitting cross-legged as she brushed her fingers through the grass. Harry lay on his side next to her, squinting in the sun.

It was one of her favourite parks in the middle of muggle London. Families and couples and friends would have picnics, laze around, and play football. The busy city streets not too far away.

She'd always enjoyed the contrast of it all. Alone surrounded by people. Peaceful amidst the chaos. Feeling old and young at the very same time.

And now with Harry.

His green eyes shone brightly in the sun, black hair sticking to his forehead from the heat of the summer's day, and cheeks growing more flush by the minute.

She never grew tired of the sight of him. He still caused a flutter in her chest after all this time.

While her attraction to Harry had come first (a fact he always enjoyed teasing her about), he was the first to kiss her. The first to call her his girlfriend. The first to profess his love.

Never before had she felt so comfortable with another human being. And yet so out of her comfort zone at the same time.

Another contrast, she supposed.

"It's a nice break away," he said with a nod. "Like another world, altogether. No Director duties, no gawking, no gossip in the paper about our relationship. No Director duties…"

"Hey, Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"You wouldn't happen to be Director would you?" she said.

He pretended to look very modest as he stared down at the grass. "Oh, you know…I don't like to bring it up, but…"

Hermione giggled and tossed a handful of grass at his face. "You're ridiculous," she said. "You just wait till I become Minister for Magic one day. You'll never hear the end of it."

"Oh, I'd never want to," he said with a wink. "'Yes, Minister', 'Of course, Minister', 'You look very hot in that dress, Minister'."

Throwing her head back with laughter, Hermione shoved him lightly on his chest.

A large smile played on his lips as he stared at her before turning his head to watch the new scene before him. A little boy was running past them, chasing his dog.

"I want one of those, too," Harry said, looking up at her.

"A dog or a child?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "Because the answer to both is no…for now."

He grinned and poked her stomach lightly. "Aww, you want my baby someday, Granger?" he said. "How utterly indecent when you haven't even made an honest man out of me yet."

Hermione rolled her eyes before a thought flickered through her mind. It was absurd and completely out of character but the words slipped out before she could stop them.

"Then marry me," she said.

Harry opened his mouth for a moment before scrambling to sit upright. "I beg your pardon?"

"Not so we can have kids," she added. "Not right away at least…"

But Harry was shaking his head. "No," he said. "Absolutely not. You're not ruining my very detailed, bullet-pointed outline of events that I've been working on for weeks just so you can nonchalantly toss out a marriage proposal. Nope. No way."

Hermione furrowed her brows as he started neurotically pacing in front of her. "Looks like I just did," she said, tilting her head to the side. "So…is this a no or…?"

Coming to a stop in front of her, Harry pursed his lips.

Then, without another word, he got down on one knee.

"Oi!" Hermione said through a shocked laugh. "You are not stealing this from me. I said it first!"

She tried pushing him over but he only caught her in his arms and held her to him, his body shaking with laughter.

"You are such a sore loser," she said, pounding her fist against his back. "You get all the firsts, let me have this one."

Pulling her away, Harry placed his hands against her face and stared into her eyes. "On one condition," he said, his voice growing serious. "You let me give you a ring and you wear it for all the world to see. Because you're mine…and I'm yours."

Hermione brushed her thumb across his cheek and nodded, tears escaping unbidden from her eyes despite the feeling of deep contentment and love spreading throughout her entire being.

It was the perfect contrast.

"It's a deal," she said, bringing him in for a searing kiss.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Thanks to our betas, Petrificus Somewhatus and Nauze.