A/N: I was inspired to write this after reading two excellent AU stories. Check them out: Penalties and One Night to Eternity.

Please let me know what you think of this chapter! It is shorter than the chapters I usually write but I am still feeling my way around this story. I do plan on continuing it but I wanted to finish "The Time In Between First"—I just needed to get the first chapter out! Rated "M" for later chapters.

Chapter One: Exposure

Ron Weasley stretched out his long legs and shifted uncomfortably on the wooden bench he was sitting on. He had not been excited about taking this assignment. Some lowlife thug was supposedly selling Death Eater memorabilia, some of which was potentially dangerous, from his basement apartment. Ron was stuck with the morning shift of the stakeout. The suspect lived in a crowded Muggle neighborhood. Restaurants, coffee shops, retail stores all bustling with activity as well as several apartment buildings. Ron had staked out a spot in the park across the street from the target's home. It was close to eight in the morning and the coffee shop next to the apartment building was doing an active business.

As much as he hadn't wanted to take this assignment, he knew that it was the right step in his career as an Auror. He was heading up the team. He had handpicked the other Aurors working with him and if the case was concluded successfully, he was looking at a big promotion. Not bad for someone who had only been out of the academy for two years. Not even twenty-five and the opportunity to be a unit leader had presented itself. Much to his surprise, he had really taken to his chosen career. Being on the run with Harry Potter for the better part of a year had given him more experience than most Aurors had and Ron had used it to his advantage. He shifted once more on the bench, peering down the street but not standing. He had cast a charm which would make him temporarily invisible to others which was good since he had taken to watching someone else besides his target.

He had first noticed her two days ago. She wasn't very tall, maybe just average height for a woman but she had a spectacular head of curly brown hair. Ron had always been a sucker for curls, probably because his own hair lacked any life. Every morning she entered the coffee shop at the same time and stayed for approximately twenty minutes. He could see her order her drink and what looked to be a scone and then sit at the counter against the front window, affording him a front row seat of her eating her breakfast. She never just sat there, she always had something in front of her to read whether it was a book or a newspaper or a stack of papers she would withdraw from the large leather bag she carried. Then, just like clockwork, she would get up and leave, heading in the direction she had come from. Today, however, was different.

Ron had looked down at his watch and realized that she was late. Almost as if he had wished her to appear, she came rushing down the block, curls flying behind her. She was wearing a skirt today and Ron smiled as it kicked up a little bit in the back with her fierce movement. She actually looked quite lovely. It was a beautiful spring morning, the weatherman promising a warm day ahead. Ron loved the spring, not only for its warmth and promise of summer to come but because it meant a change in the wardrobes of all the lovely young ladies in the city. Scratchy sweaters and thick woolen pants were put away to be replaced with thin cotton t-shirts and skirts that showed just the right amount of leg.

He wondered why she was late. He started speculating on all the different scenarios: her alarm clock didn't go off or her boyfriend had been in a randy mood and wanted a quick shag. For some reason he was bothered by the thought that she could have a boyfriend. He dismissed the feeling and watched through the window as she hurriedly bought her coffee and rushed back through the door, almost colliding with another customer. Some of her coffee splashed out of the cup and onto the white blouse she was wearing. Even from his distance, Ron could make out the choice swear words that had escaped her lips. She walked away from the front of the shop, backing up until she was in the small alleyway between buildings. That's when he saw it: a wand.

Ron almost jumped up as he watched her use the wand to siphon off the coffee, probably saying a quick charm to rid her blouse of the stain as well. As she did it, her eyes kept searching around her, making sure that no one had seen her. The Muggles on the street, however, were too intent on making their way to work. She smoothed down her shirt, a satisfied smile on her face, before stepping out of the alleyway and onto the street, continuing towards her destination.

She was a witch, Ron thought. Intriguing. He had assumed she was a Muggle. He toyed with the idea of following her to see where she was headed and was just about to get up when his target emerged from the apartment building. Sighing, Ron stood and followed the shifty character as he headed to the closest subway entrance. His curly-headed friend would have to be put aside—at least for today.

Shit, shit, shit, thought Hermione. Naturally today would be the day for her stupid cat to unplug her alarm clock. She should have skipped the coffee shop but she needed something to calm her nerves. Today she was being observed by her department chairperson. She had spent hours planning the lesson, had even dropped some not too subtle hints to her students that there would be a visitor the next day in class. She had agonized over what to wear and now she had spilt coffee all over herself.

The person she had almost slammed into looked at her in frustration—she was blocking his way into the shop. Apparently no one came between him and his morning latte, thought Hermione as she moved out of the doorway. She glanced down at her watch and cursed. There was no time to run back to her flat to change. She glanced up and down the street as she backed into the small alley between the shop and the apartment building next to it. Those people on the street were in their own worlds and no one noticed as she withdrew her wand from her leather bag. She used it quickly to clean herself up before stowing in back in her bag and heading down the block. From the corner of her eye, though, she saw a flash of red across the street. Turning, she saw a guy across the street, his ginger hair glinting in the morning sunshine. He looked vaguely familiar to Hermione but before she could study him any further, he headed in the opposite direction, a look of determination on his face. Why did he look so familiar, she thought.

As she walked towards work, Hermione racked her brain trying to figure out who the handsome bloke was. As the school came into view, she shrugged it off. She had more important things to concentrate on today.

"Good morning Miss. Granger!"

Hermione turned to see a group of girls hanging out on the stairs by the entrance of the school. She smiled at them replying, "Good morning ladies! What do you say Becky, ready for that test today?"

A young blonde girl with shiny pink skin said, "Of course! See you eighth period!"

Hermione nodded, continuing into the school and towards her classroom. She loved this part of the day, right before the students came in. The classroom still smelled faintly of the cleaning products the custodial staff had used the night before, the desks were in perfect rows, no clunky backpacks littering the aisle. Unlike some of the other teachers who were usually scurrying about making last minute photocopies, Hermione prided herself on her organization and planning skills. She usually spent a good part of her weekend planning for the week. As nervous as she was for her upcoming observation, deep down she knew that it would be successful. Although she had only been teaching for three years, she knew she had natural talent for it. She loved being with the students, something she hadn't anticipated.

When Hermione had decided to become a history teacher it was due to her love of the subject, not any desire to help mold the minds of the future. That had been a wonderful discovery. She had always been an awkward teen, never comfortable in her own skin. Returning to high school was not something she would ever have wanted to do but returning as a teacher was different. The students were respectful and she believed they truly enjoyed her class. She worked hard trying to make the subject come alive for them, for it to become relevant to their lives and it wasn't lost on them.

There was a time when Hermione wasn't sure what she was going to do with her life. She would never forget that day when an owl flew through the open kitchen window, dropping a letter on her lap while she sat eating her cereal. Her mum had started shrieking, causing her father to run down the stairs, half of his face still covered with shaving cream. The three of them had read the letter together, a look of disbelief on her parents face. Hermione felt nothing but relief. Here was an explanation for all of the strange things that would happen around her. Maybe she really wasn't as odd as the other children thought she was. Maybe there were other children like her. Maybe she really would have friends one day.

Her parents wanted no part of it, that much was clear. Her mum had quickly ripped up the letter, discarding the paper into the trash bin. Hermione could feel a little bit of her heart break with each rip.

"Complete rubbish," she muttered, "Who would play such a practical joke? Imagine a school for witches and wizards. What is this world coming too? Eat your cereal Hermione; you are going to be late for school!"

Hermione sat at her desk, lost in thought. She might never have discovered who she really was if she had not seen the boy down the street some months later playing with what looked like to be a wand. His name was Dean Thomas and he lived with his mum and sisters in a house at the end of the block. Hermione had been surprised when she hadn't seen him in class that fall but as she watched him, she realized he must have received a letter as well, except his mum hadn't ripped it up and thrown it away.

When Dean had seen her, when he had realized what she had seen him doing, he quickly tried to cover up. Hermione was ashamed to admit that she used a little blackmail that day. She wanted Dean to tell her everything there was about being a wizard and the school called Hogwarts. It had been the beginning of a wonderful friendship that they continued to this day.

The sound of the ten minute bell snapped Hermione out of her reverie. Some students began to file into her classroom, sitting down and removing their notebooks from their schoolbags. She moved to stand in the doorway, greeting the others as they arrived. She observed the activity in the hallways and then straightened up as her department chairperson, Mr. Nelson, arrived. He was a kind man but Hermione was still nervous.

Mr. Nelson smiled at Hermione saying, "Shall we Ms. Granger?" He gestured toward the classroom behind her.

Hermione returned the smile replying, "Of course Mr. Nelson, right this way."