And Suddenly, part two
Here's part two. All headers are in part one.
“I need a drink,” Harry muttered upon their arrival to the twenty-sixth floor, where their penthouse was located. Going over to the liquor cabinet, he poured himself a whiskey and Hermione a vodka and tonic while she called her mother. Once she was done, she took the glass Harry had left by the phone and sipped it slowly. She didn’t normally drink so early in the afternoon, and not while she was working, but like Harry, she was tense and needed to relax.
“Tell me we know that Mr. White from somewhere.”
“We do,” Harry confirmed. “I just can’t place him, but there’s something terribly familiar about him.” He went over to the telescope that sat near the balcony doors and looked out at the city through the lens. Letting out a sigh, he loosened his tie and joined Hermione on the white couch.
“Do you think he could have been Chan’s contact in disguise?”
Harry didn’t answer for a moment, taking another mouthful of whiskey. “Perhaps.” They sat in companionable silence for a few long moments, and then Harry patted her leg. “Let’s go out for dinner to a really swanky restaurant. My treat.”
Hermione smiled and covered his hand with her own, their fingers lacing together. “I’d like that. We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”
“We have.” They had made plans to wait until nightfall then take their own, private tour of the hotel to search Chan’s office in the hope it might yield something useful. They knew from their surveillance he did keep a limited quantity of the wizarding items he sold somewhere nearby, as he’d been able to produce extra items upon request almost instantly, which ruled out their theory that his contact only sent one thing at a time.
They changed into something more comfortable and wrote out some reports required by the Ministry, updating their superior as to the progress of their assignment. Once they’d sent everything off by their specially arranged stealth owl, they relaxed for an hour or so and then got ready for their outing.
Transported by the limousine Chan had at their disposal, Harry gave instructions to the driver and he deposited them outside The Golden Dragon. They savoured a delicious meal, and afterwards Harry was able to persuade Hermione to take a spin with him on the dance floor. They swayed along to the live band, joined at various times by other couples, and discussed various nuances of their case quietly so as not to be overheard.
Hermione had enjoyed their dinner and time alone so much that she was reluctant to head back to the hotel, but they had a job to do and a limited timeframe in which to do it, so she didn’t complain as Harry led her back to the limousine. They were not surprised to run into Chan on their way back to the suite, and they made a big show of bidding him good night and making him aware they were retiring for the evening.
Stanley Chan was a creature of habit; they knew he retired every night at midnight without fail. He had what appeared to be an expensive Grandfather clock in his office, and once it began to strike twelve, he would pack up his things and put them away.
When it hit midnight, they changed into black apparel and packed a bag with equipment they would need for their expedition. They couldn’t use Apparition as a means of travel, because it was possible Chan’s wizarding contact was in the hotel somewhere and would be able to detect the magic needed to propel them from one part of the hotel to another, so they had to resort to sneaking around the Muggle way. Hermione made sure to include parchment and a special duplicating quill so she could record any information they might find; also tucked inside was a Portkey that had been rigged to bring them back to their suite. However, this was only to be used in case of emergency, because once it had been activated, it would disintegrate upon arrival at their destination.
Harry shrank the bag and tucked it into his pocket, then rummaged around the bag that sat by his side of the bed for something. Hermione, who paused at the doorway, looked at him over her shoulder. “What are you looking for?”
“This,” he replied, pulling out the cloak he’d gotten for Christmas when he was eleven.
“Your invisibility cloak? What did you bring that for?”
“Because I don’t want to take any risks that Chan might find out we’ve left the suite. We already know he hasn’t bugged inside here, but that’s not to say he doesn’t have a camera installed outside in the passageway. If he sees us leave, he’ll know we’re up to something.”
“We are up to something!”
Harry grinned and followed Hermione as she headed for the front door. “I know that, but he doesn’t and I’d like to keep it that way.” Once they reached the front door, he stepped up behind her, taking the back because he was taller, and threw the cloak over them. Placing one arm around her waist, he pulled her back against him.
“Won’t it look strange if the door opens and nobody comes out?” Hermione asked.
Harry paused, giving it thought. “I suppose so. But we have to get out somehow. There’s a fire escape next to the lift, head for there.”
Once they’d got the door open, they moved as quickly as they could to the fire escape, then stopped as the door slammed shut behind them. Hermione paused; they had to move carefully under the cloak, making sure to walk together with perfect synchrony or they might get caught. “You okay?” Harry whispered in her ear.
“I’m fine. Let’s go.”
Their suite was located in the Peninsula Tower; they knew that Chan’s living quarters were on the level above his office, which was on the eighth floor of the main building. To get from one tower to another, they had to cross the main lobby, so by the time they’d gone down twenty-six flights of stairs and up another eight, they were both breathing heavily and sweating under the cloak.
Once they reached the door that opened onto the eighth floor, Hermione tried the handle to find it was locked. She waved her hand over it, uttering a whispered Alohomora, and the door swung open without protest. They reached the heavy oak doors that guarded the entrance to the inner sanctum of Chan’s office without resistance, but then again, they hadn’t expected to encounter anyone. Nobody could access the eighth and ninth floors unless they had a special card that activated the lift; and these had only been given to Chan, his wife, and those he trusted.
Once they were safely in the office, they remained under the cloak and checked for cameras and microphones. Each one was located and a spell cast by Hermione, which made them useless for an hour. Anyone looking through the camera would see an empty office, as it had been before Harry and Hermione entered it. Harry threw off the cloak and they both took a few deep breaths before lighting the ends of their wands.
“Right, where do we start?”
“Why don’t you go through his documents,” Harry said, pointing to the filing cabinets backed against one wall, “while I open the safe and see exactly what he’s got hidden away.”
They moved quickly and quietly. Hermione pulled out file after file and moved the quill over them, which then transcribed the words onto parchment. She recorded the dates, prices and names of buyers for all sales he’d made in the last year; these might yield information useful at a later date. Harry sifted through the contents of the safe, describing each item as he pulled it out; hovering near his ear was a small, flat silver disk that recorded the details and took a picture.
They were so caught up in recording as much as they could that they almost didn’t hear the noise of someone entering the outer doors. Looking at each other in alarm, Hermione grabbed the quill and parchments with one hand and picked up her wand, casting a spell that neatly returned all Chan’s documents to their rightful place in the cabinets. Harry did the same with the safe items, barely allowing them time to fly back inside before he was shutting the safe door and putting the painting back up over it magically. He grabbed Hermione around the waist and threw the invisibility cloak over them as they both said “Nox”, and they slowly shuffled back as someone entered the inner office. As they hid in one corner, Hermione looked over at the desk and saw with horror that she’d left a piece of parchment behind.
“Accio parchment!” she hissed as quietly as possible, and it flew across the room into her hand. She prayed that their new arrival hadn’t seen it. Harry tightened his grip around her waist as the lamp on the desk was turned on.
With illumination, they could see that their visitor was none other than Chan... and he wasn’t alone. Chan eased himself into his chair and gestured to another on the opposite side of the desk; the other guest sat down. As he did, the hood of his cloak fell back to reveal his identity.
Harry placed his hand over Hermione’s mouth to prevent her shocked intake of breath being heard as they both stared at none other than Draco Malfoy.
“Have you moved the items yet?” Malfoy asked in an almost bored voice.
“Not yet, Mr. White,” Chan responded, and Hermione felt Harry shift slightly behind her and move his hand away. No wonder they had both thought him familiar. But why was Chan calling him Mr. White? The logical side of Hermione’s brain kicked in, and it didn’t take her long to realise that Narcissa Malfoy’s maiden name had been Black. She should have thought of that. Now was not the time for self-flagellation, though; they had to keep very quiet and very still, and listen to the conversation.
“Why not?” Malfoy countered. “I’ve already told you, there’s something about this Evans couple I don’t like. I don’t trust them.”
“I checked their backgrounds thoroughly before bringing them here,” Chan said. “There was nothing that made me suspicious of them. They are wealthy, Mr. White. I cannot turn their business away.”
“You’re too greedy, Chan,” Malfoy said accusingly. “I’ve already told you, you can make triple what you earn from selling this Muggle crap. All you have to do is sell more of the items I give you.”
Chan shifted in his seat. Hermione couldn’t tell if he was uncomfortable or nervous, but something about his demeanour wasn’t right. “I am happy continuing our arrangement as it is.”
“Fine,” Malfoy said, rising out of his seat. “Just give me the money and I’ll be on my way. But don’t say I didn’t warn you, Chan.”
Chan’s hand disappeared underneath his desk and a small drawer suddenly popped out; Hermione surmised there was a secret button underneath. He took out a rather large velvet sack and placed in on the table in front of Malfoy, who opened it and peered inside. “Excellent,” Malfoy said, apparently happy with what he saw. He reached inside his cloak and pulled out an envelope, sliding it across to Chan. “Here’s your cut.”
Chan merely nodded. “You will be in contact again soon?”
“When I’m ready,” Malfoy said dismissively. “I’ll see myself out.” He rose and headed for the exit without a second glance, but stopped once he reached the doors. “When are they leaving?”
“I have an appointment with Mr. Evans the day after tomorrow. The money for the vase will be through the day after that. They should be leaving in three days.”
“Good.” Malfoy nodded and disappeared without another word. Once he was gone, Chan exhaled loudly, then aimlessly shuffled a few things around on his desk. After a few minutes, he pushed the drawer closed and stood, turning the lamp off and leaving the room.
Harry and Hermione waited a few minutes before they allowed themselves to move. “Oh my God,” Hermione said, still stunned by the identity of Chan’s contact.
“Let’s get back to the suite immediately.” Hermione couldn’t see Harry’s face, but she could feel how tense he was, so she obeyed without question.
~*~
Once they got back safely, they discussed what they’d seen and heard, and all the details were recorded and owled back to the Ministry without delay. A team would be assembled and sent to Hong Kong to help with the capture of Draco Malfoy, now that they knew exactly who it was they were after. They still had to play their roles for now; they couldn’t afford to tip Chan off that they knew who he was dealing with.
Hermione found herself on edge and unable to sleep once she’d changed into her pyjamas and gotten ready for bed, even though it was one in the morning. Harry had climbed into his side of the bed as soon as he’d come out of the bathroom, and she actually thought he’d gone to sleep until he spoke. “You coming to bed?”
“Not yet,” Hermione answered as she stood near the window. “You sleep, though. I’m just thinking.”
She heard the rustle of blankets being pulled back, and felt Harry’s arms go around her waist as he came to stand behind her once again. She rested her head against his shoulder and breathed in; he smelled like… Harry. She couldn’t describe it, but even if she hadn’t known it was him, she would still have been able to tell. He smelled like soap and sweat and smoke from the fire he’d stood in front of when they’d gotten back.
“Thinking about Malfoy or your Dad?”
She actually had been thinking of Malfoy, although her father was never far from her thoughts. Every morning since her father’s death, she’d woken with him on her mind. Sometimes she dreamed of him being right next to her, watching her sleep. Sometimes she was a little girl again, and he was pushing her on the tyre they used to have roped up to the old tree out the back. Sometimes he was sitting up in his coffin, telling her not to cry, and she always woke from that particular dream screaming.
Hermione was tired. She was tired, and shocked about Malfoy, and missing her Dad, and it finally all got the better of her. She told Harry about her dreams, and how she’d sometimes wake from them in tears. She told him how she wished she could see her father just one more time to tell him how much she loved him. Once Hermione was done talking, she realised her face was wet with tears.
Harry turned her around and kissed her forehead, and then led her over to the bed, where he sat her down on the edge of it and kneeled down in front of her. There was enough light from the moon and the city below them for her to be able to see his face.
“Hermione, he knew. He knew you loved him. Don’t ever doubt that for a second.”
“But it hurts, Harry.” Even as she said the words, her chest tightened painfully and more tears leaked from her eyes. “I still can’t believe he’s gone. He’ll never see me marry or have children. I’ll never be able to pick up the phone again and hear one of his awful jokes.” She laughed in spite of herself, but the smile soon faded. “I can’t--” Hermione paused, choking on her words. “Harry...”
“I know.” Harry cupped her face and wiped her tears away with his thumbs, then leaned his forehead against hers as she cried. And cry Hermione did. She let it out, big, heaving sobs that didn’t seem to end. Harry hugged her to him, rocking her gently until finally, the sobs subsided and she sniffed.
When Hermione pulled back, she thought of what Harry had last said... and she realised something that had never really occurred to her before. Harry did know how she felt. He was likely the only person other than her mother who truly understood her loss. He could feel her pain at having lost her father, because he’d lost his too. He’d lost both his parents and he’d never really known them.
“You do know,” she breathed, her hands coming up to his face. “You do understand, don’t you, Harry?”
Harry looked straight into her eyes. “Yes, I do.”
Hermione gazed at him in wonder. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“What for?”
“I had thirty-one years with my father. You only had one.”
Something in Harry’s eyes told Hermione that he understood what she was saying. She realised that all these years, no one close to Harry had really been able to comprehend his loss; perhaps Sirius had, but Harry had lost him too. And suddenly, Hermione wanted so desperately to take all of Harry’s pain away; the pain of losing his parents, the pain of living for so long with people who had starved him of food and love and affection, the pain of having friends who had come from loving families and had never really been able to understand what it had been like for him growing up.
Only now could she truly appreciate the depth of what she felt for this man; losing her father had made Hermione reassess how she felt about those left in her life. So she did the only thing she knew could. She closed the distance between them and began to kiss his face; sweet, tiny kisses all over. She kissed his forehead, his eyes, his nose and his cheeks. She kissed his jaw and the scar that made him famous. Harry’s arms stayed around her waist and his eyes remained closed, even when she pulled back.
“I love you,” she said as she kissed his mouth.
At first, the kiss was gentle; merely lips pressed together, with no attempt to deepen it. After a few seconds, Hermione pulled back and Harry opened his eyes. They stared at each other as they took in what was happening between them. They could easily have stopped it, but neither of them wanted to.
This time, it was Harry who kissed Hermione, and she pulled him close as he slid his tongue into her open mouth. Her body tingled with electricity as it awakened for the first time in so long; Hermione felt herself come alive in the circle of Harry’s arms.
Every time they separated to breathe, they were back together within seconds. Hermione would have been quite happy to sit there and kiss Harry until the end of time. She ran her fingers through his hair as she kissed him, marvelling at how soft it was. Harry had released her lips and was now kissing his way down her neck, and she kissed the top of his head as he shifted her hips closer to him.
He made his way back up, gently biting her earlobe, and she shivered as his lips found hers again. There was nothing tender about their kiss this time; it was passionate and hot. Hermione made no attempt to stop the moans that were rising from the back of her throat, and she whimpered when Harry’s hand slipped underneath her pyjama top to touch her bare skin. When his hand reached her breast, she broke away from him and rested her head against his, relishing the feel of his fingers as they caressed and stroked her softly, and after a few moments, she pulled his hand away, slid back onto the bed, and drew him on top of her.
An hour later, Harry was asleep, curled up on his side with his arm over Hermione’s chest. She lay on her back, as awake as she’d ever been. Hermione admitted to herself that the thought of sleeping with Harry had crossed her mind from time to time; when she was younger, she’d done the same with Ron. As close as the trio had been for twenty years, certain feelings and thoughts were bound to crop up every now and then, and she was aware that they were both attractive men in their own way. She had always thought, however, that if it ever did happen, afterwards would be awkward and unsure. Such an event changed the nature of a friendship and once you crossed certain boundaries, you couldn’t go back.
But as Hermione lay there, her hand running up and down Harry’s arm, she couldn’t have been more wrong. Sure, they would have to talk about where they went from here because obviously, things were very different now. Hermione knew she loved Harry and it was very possible she was falling in love with him, if she wasn’t already. She didn’t regret making love to him for one moment and she was sure, given the way he’d held her afterwards and kissed her almost possessively, that he felt the same way. However, any discussions of this nature would have to wait until they were back in England and off this case. While the timing was poor, she felt that perhaps it was a bridge they should have crossed a long time ago.
She turned over onto her side to face Harry and cuddled up close to him, and he roused from his slumber to kiss her forehead. “Sleep,” he murmured.
“Yes, I’ll sleep,” she whispered, and finally closed her eyes.
~*~
When Hermione awoke the next morning, the first thing she realised was that the bed was empty. She sat up and was happier than she thought she should have been to see Harry hadn’t disappeared; he was on the balcony, a bathrobe wrapped around him. She pulled the sheet up to cover herself decently and watched him for a few moments, studying his outline against the gloriously sunny backdrop.
He turned in her direction and smiled when he saw she was awake. She smiled back as he came inside and crawled onto the bed, hovering over her on his hands and knees. “Good morning,” he said, leaning in to kiss her. Hermione closed her eyes and did nothing but savour the feel of his lips on hers; still something new to her, but wonderful just the same. She could certainly get used to kissing Harry.
Pulling back, she kept the sheet up over her breasts with one hand and placed the other on his cheek, the feel of his stubble rough against her fingertips. “How did you sleep?”
“Very well. How about you? Any dreams?” His face showed a glimmer of concern.
“No, no dreams.” She couldn’t resist kissing him again, her lips lingering on his.
“Mmmm,” Harry murmured. “I could get used to that.”
Hermione smiled, a warm glow rising within her. Harry didn’t regret their night together any more than she did. She kissed him once more before speaking. “We really should look over all the documents I copied last night. Gabriel will be expecting a full report of what happened.”
Harry sat back on his knees, his eyes twinkling. “Not everything, I hope.”
Hermione smacked him with a pillow, and he yelped with laughter. “I’m serious, Harry. I need to owl him a report today.”
“I know.” Harry’s smile faded. “We have a free day today because we’re not due to meet Chan again until tomorrow afternoon, so let’s have some breakfast and get it done. Then perhaps we can venture out and do a cruise on the harbour or something.”
“That would be lovely,” Hermione admitted. “I’m just going to take a shower first.”
“Excellent,” Harry said, jumping off the bed. “I’ll come wash your back.”
Hermione opened her mouth to tell him she was perfectly capable of washing herself, thank you, but the smouldering look in his eyes killed any protest she might have had.
~*~
Once they’d showered and eaten, they got comfortable in the lounge room and looked over everything they’d recorded the previous night. Harry took out the silver disk and flipped through the pictures of the items held in the safe, making notes about what he thought their purpose was and how relevant they appeared to be to their case, while Hermione made small, neat lists containing all the information Chan had in his files on the Muggles who’d bought from him. She cross-referenced them from the files the Ministry already had and pointed out those she felt were worthy of further investigation.
They ate lunch in their suite and kept going until everything was completed. Once they’d owled their reports off, they took a cruise around Kowloon Harbour, complete with Chan’s henchmen. Harry didn’t let Hermione go, either holding her hand or placing an arm around her waist, and Hermione snuggled close as they stood on the outside deck, taking in the view.
“We have terrible timing, you know,” she commented, hoping to start the discussion she knew would come up sooner or later.
“We sure do.” Harry kissed her forehead and then grasped her chin with his hand. “I want you to know something, Hermione. What’s happened between us is a great thing and I’m not sorry it happened. While our timing isn’t the best, because we’re going to have to concentrate on this case, I don’t consider this to be some sort of... fling. This is real, for me. This is it.” Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but he held a hand up. “Let me finish. I’m not just saying it because I think it’s appropriate and I don’t want it to sound trite. You need to know, Hermione. I love you. I always have, ever since we were young. But now it feels different, and I’m willing to follow wherever this takes us, if you are too.”
Hermione nodded, her eyes misty. “I am.” He released her chin and she leaned in to kiss him.
~*~
Based on the reports that Harry and Hermione sent, the Ministry sent a team of Aurors to Hong Kong to capture Draco Malfoy and question Stanley Chan. The team of five arrived via Portkey just after they’d gotten back from the cruise, which meant they appeared directly in the suite without being detected. It also meant that Harry and Hermione had to watch their interaction, as they didn’t want to let on something had changed between them.
One of the Aurors sent a stealth owl to order some dinner for the rest of the team, while Harry and Hermione ordered room service as normal. Harry filled the team in on the events of the last two days and filled in the gaps where requested, and the team leader, Olivia Hargitay, in turn brought them up to speed from the Ministry’s end. It was discussed amongst the seven Aurors that Harry and Hermione would keep their appointment with Chan and try to get him to admit he was selling wizarding items, and then Olivia’s team would take over. Discussion then moved on to how they were going to capture Draco Malfoy.
“I don’t think he’s staying in the hotel anywhere,” Harry said. “He must have a place nearby. He met Chan in the early hours of the morning, although that was more likely to have been Chan’s idea, but he was also present at our meeting yesterday afternoon.”
“Does he know who you are?” Olivia asked.
“He’s suspicious,” Harry admitted. “He told Chan he didn’t trust us.”
“Do you think he might try and eavesdrop on your meeting tomorrow?”
“Absolutely,” Hermione said. “When Harry mentioned wanting to talk to Chan about a private matter, Malfoy was definitely listening. His body tensed slightly. I was watching him.”
Olivia nodded. “We really need to try and catch him in the act. Harry, what you need to do is ask Chan for something he won’t have on hand. Try the vampire’s blood, because we know Chan only had enough for the order placed last month. He’ll have to contact Malfoy and, with any luck, Malfoy will hand deliver.”
“I don’t think so, Liv,” Harry countered. “He’s already suspicious of us as it is. He’s not going to take any risks now.” Harry stared down at the parchment scattered all over the floor thoughtfully. “Malfoy’s smart. He’s eluded capture and even detection up until now. We’re going to have to move very carefully if we want to get him.”
The group discussion was interrupted by the arrival of room service, prompting the team to cloak themselves and their equipment, and soon after more food arrived via owl, so they all ate and tossed around ideas on how best to proceed with Malfoy’s capture.
Hermione could tell that Harry was determined to get Malfoy by any means possible. She recognised the look on his face, and knew he would risk a great deal to achieve it. Tamping down the flare of worry that welled inside her, Hermione tried to pay attention to the conversation, but all her thoughts continued to circle around Harry.
Finally, after agreeing that the best way to proceed would be to play it by ear and see what happened the next afternoon, the group spread out to find sleeping quarters, converting lounges and tables into mattresses and conjuring up pillows and blankets. The master bedroom and one of the others had been left empty for Harry and Hermione to use, and it was with a heavy heart at the knowledge she would have to sleep alone that night that Hermione bid everyone a good night and went to the master bedroom to change and clean her teeth.
When she came out of the bathroom, Hermione found herself being pushed against the wall and kissed to within an inch of her life. She was so stunned that she wasn’t able to react for a few seconds, but when she realised that Harry had snuck into her room she relaxed, her arms going around his neck and her hands playing with his hair as his tongue slid over hers and curled around it, making her moan.
When he let her go, she pressed her body up against his. “How did you get in here?” she asked breathlessly.
“Through the door.” He grinned cheekily at her and kissed the side of her neck.
She pinched his bottom and he yelped. “Smart arse,” she said. “I mean, how did you get away?”
“You must have forgotten I’m an Auror, Miss Granger. I’m trained to be sneaky.” His face sobered as he looked at her. “I couldn’t let you go to sleep without kissing you good night, could I?”
Hermione sighed. “I really wish you could stay.”
“So do I.” He kissed her nose. “But I can’t, not with all the people here.”
“I know.” Still, Hermione was reluctant to let him go, and she kissed him deeply to show him she meant what she’d said. Eventually, they separated, breathing heavily. “You’d better go.”
“Yeah.” Harry remained on the spot until Hermione nudged him, and he kissed her one last time before leaving the room, ensuring nobody was hovering outside the door. With a final smile at her over his shoulder, he slipped out into the darkness, leaving a melancholy Hermione behind. She climbed into bed and tried unsuccessfully not to think about Harry, and eventually fell into a restless sleep.
~*~
Harry and Hermione had an appointment with Chan at five the next afternoon, so the team spent the morning going over their plans and taking to the streets in search of any sign of Draco Malfoy. While they were fairly certain he didn’t live at the hotel, as Chan did, they knew he was likely close by. Harry had suggested that Malfoy wouldn’t allow a Muggle like Chan to do too much without keeping an eye on him; he knew Malfoy most likely hadn’t overcome his blatant hatred of all things Muggle and only tolerated Chan because he could make Malfoy money.
They searched as many rooms in the hotel as they could without attracting attention to themselves; then, splitting up into smaller groups, they canvassed the surrounding areas. They hadn’t honestly expected Draco Malfoy to simply show up in the street, so they weren’t too disappointed when they didn’t find him.
As the time drew nearer for the appointment with Chan, Olivia’s team carefully positioned themselves in the main building near Chan’s office. Two were assigned to the enormous hotel lobby; two more wandered from floor to floor, and Olivia placed herself on the eighth floor in the fire escape nearest Chan’s office.
Harry and Hermione promptly arrived at the agreed time and were ushered in by two of Chan’s bodyguards. Chan rose from his chair to greet them, then dismissed the guards with a wave of his hand.
“So, Mr. Evans,” Chan began. “What is this private matter you wished to speak with me about?”
As rehearsed, Harry cut straight to the chase. “An associate of mine has informed me that you sell some... unusual items.” Harry stood and moved to stand behind Hermione’s chair, his hand resting reassuringly on her shoulder.
“Unusual items?” Chan’s expression gave nothing away.
“My wife and I are in need of vampire’s blood,” Harry said bluntly. “We understand you are a man who knows how to get such a thing.”
Chan’s eyes narrowed slightly. “And this associate of yours,” he said, emphasising the word ‘associate’ as if it was tainted. “What is his name?”
“His name is irrelevant to this discussion,” Harry said smoothly. “Can you get it for us or can’t you?”
Chan pushed his chair back slowly and rose out of it, and Hermione was sure her heart was beating so hard against her chest that it was going to come bursting out. Her Auror instincts told her something was going to happen, something bad... but before she could activate the small signal to call Olivia and her team in, Chan had whipped out a wand from nowhere and pointed it straight at her.
“CRUCIO!” he roared angrily, and a searing pain overtook Hermione’s body. She slid out of the chair and onto the floor as she writhed in agony. She could hear herself screaming, but she didn’t know if it was just in her head or whether noise was actually coming from her body. She tried to concentrate and focus to throw the curse, but the pain was so blinding that all she could do was cry out.
As suddenly as it had hit her, the spell was lifted, and Hermione pulled herself up to see Harry had sent Chan flying into the wall behind him, his wand knocked out of reach. Chan picked himself up and rushed at Harry, and the two of them grappled for control. Harry tried to point his wand at Chan, but the older man knocked it flying before Harry could utter a curse. With a roar of rage, Chan’s hands curled around Harry’s neck and squeezed. Harry was strong, but Chan appeared to be inexplicably stronger, and Hermione could see Harry’s face turning an alarming shade of purple. She tried to stand, but couldn’t muster the strength to get to her feet, so she picked up her wand, which had clattered uselessly to the floor beside her, and waved it in a figure eight pattern to summon Olivia and the team.
To their credit, it took them a matter of seconds to overpower the guards on the door and come busting in. Chan was no match for five Aurors, and once he was surrounded with their wands pointing at him, he let go of his hold on Harry’s neck and put up his hands in surrender. Harry went straight over to Hermione and helped her to her feet, and she leaned in to kiss his neck softly, not caring who saw her do it.
“You okay?” he asked in a low voice, which brimmed with anger.
“I’m fine. Are you hurt?”
“No.” His face told another story, but Hermione let it go for now and they turned to look at Chan.
Chan slowly shuffled on the spot until he was facing Harry and Hermione, and with a grimace, uttered something under his breath... and small sparks of light began to come out of the top of his head. His appearance began to alter as a ring of white light moved down his body. Once it was done, before them stood Draco Malfoy.
“Fools,” he sneered, his face twisted into an ugly leer. “Did you really think a few disguising spells would trick me? You think I didn’t recognise you the second you walked through the door? Nice try, though.”
Olivia smiled tightly and spoke. “Draco Malfoy, you are hereby summoned to appear before the Ministry of Magic to answer to the charges of smuggling and illegally selling prohibited items. You are also charged--”
“Do shut up,” Malfoy sneered, interrupting Olivia. “I’d love to hang around and chat, but I really must be going. Until next time, Potter. And there will be a next time.” He spoke in an ominous tone, then pulled the edge of his cloak up over his head before anyone could stop him... and vanished.
All seven Aurors stared at the space which Malfoy had occupied not more than two seconds previously. “Where the bloody hell did he go?” one of them asked.
“Shit!” Olivia swore. “He must have had some sort of Portkey hidden on him so he could escape.” She cast a spell to try and trace the elements of the magic Malfoy had used, but he was long gone.
They all exchanged glances, then slumped defeatedly.
“Where’s the real Chan, then?” Hermione asked tiredly. In the midst of what had happened, nobody had thought about the man Malfoy had been impersonating. Olivia split her team up into two and had them scour the hotel for Chan, who was eventually found unconscious in his private living quarters.
The Ministry was promptly notified of the events and more wizards arrived, including a member of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, who subsequently wiped Stanley Chan’s memory of all dealings with wizards, since it was unlikely Malfoy would approach him again.
Gabriel Von Dukan was among those who came to Hong Kong, and he cornered Hermione as she was being treated by a Ministry Healer. Once she assured him she was going to be fine, he moved on to talk to Olivia, who was in the process of explaining once again what had happened. The Ministry went through and erased all traces of anything magical so that when Stanley Chan woke up the next day, he would remember nothing about his dealings with Draco Malfoy or James and Jane Evans.
By the time the Healer was through with her and she’d answered some cursory questions, Hermione was ready to collapse. All she wanted was to hold Harry and sleep for a thousand years. From the looks they’d been able to exchange, she knew he felt the same way.
They returned to London with Olivia and her team, and once they’d given yet another debriefing to their department heads and made it clear they would be all right, Harry and Hermione were told to take a few days off to recover and rest. For once, neither of them argued, and Harry escorted Hermione back to her flat.
Once they got inside and dumped their suitcases, Harry turned to Hermione and opened his arms, and she willingly went into his embrace, holding him tightly as she slumped against him. The shock of everything that had happened eventually sunk in, and she began to cry. Her chest still twinged with pain as she moved, so she let Harry guide her to their bedroom and together they laid down on her bed.
Her tears subsided and they were simply content to hold each other. Daylight streamed through her window, as it was only morning in London because London was seven hours behind Hong Kong, so Harry got up to close the blinds and then went back to Hermione. He lay still as she kissed his neck softly, the outline of finger marks visible. He would likely be bruised come morning, but he didn’t care how bruised he was. What had shaken him more was the curse that Malfoy had inflicted upon Hermione. What if he hadn’t been able to knock Malfoy’s wand out of the way? What if he’d somehow been incapacitated and unable to help her? He gathered her closer, and her fingers came up to rest on his lips.
“Don’t, Harry,” she whispered. “It wasn’t your fault. I know what you’re thinking.”
Of course she did. She always had. He kissed her, thankful that he had this woman in his life.
~*~
Two years later
Hermione opened the balcony doors of the Peninsula Suite and stared out over Kowloon Bay, breathing in deeply, before turning back to her husband. Harry had thrown himself onto the bed and was stretched out, watching her as she stood in the sun. This time, they were not acting. There was no assignment. Exactly one year previously, Hermione had slid a gold band onto Harry’s finger with a promise to love, honour and cherish him for the rest of her life. And that was one promise Mrs. Hermione Potter fully intended to keep.
She smiled and joined him on the bed, moving into his arms as he pulled her close to kiss her. “It’s a lovely surprise, Harry,” she said, pulling away to look at him. Hermione had not been told where they were going for their anniversary. “Returning to the scene of the crime, as it were.”
“Well, this is the room where we first made love,” Harry pointed out, pressing a kiss to her jaw.
“I’m well aware of that. I’m really pleased you chose to come back here. There’s plenty we never got to do last time.”
“Under the circumstances, I’m surprised we got to do anything. I wonder how Stanley Chan’s going.” Stanley Chan and his consortium still owned The Peninsula Hotel, but he kept all his dealings legitimate -- and only dealt with fellow Muggles. The Hong Kong Ministry of Magic had kept an eye on him for six months afterwards, but when he’d shown no sign of selling anything remotely magical, they’d closed the case and owled the British Ministry, who did the same.
“Well, we can hardly go and ask him without arousing suspicion,” Hermione said. “I’m sure he’s fine. And much better off without having Malfoy to deal with.” Draco Malfoy was still in hiding, and no trace of him had been found for two years. Harry had quietly pursued him, but had yet to get a lead. Somehow, Hermione thought Harry would always be after Malfoy for what he’d done to her, but she hoped the news she was about to give Harry would make him rethink his decision to hunt Malfoy down.
She propped herself up on one elbow. “Yes, it is a lovely surprise. And since you had one for me, I think it’s only fair that I have one for you.”
“Oh?” Harry perked up, and he looked at his wife adoringly. “What kind of surprise?”
“Well, I can’t tell you much about it. All I can tell you for now is that you’ll have to wait about eight months for your surprise to arrive.”
Harry frowned. “Eight months? That means...” He trailed off when he realised exactly what Hermione meant. “Oh my God,” he said, breathing in excitedly.
“Hello, Daddy,” she said, brushing away an errant lock of hair off his forehead. She lay back and cupped his face in her hands, and pulled his head down so she could gently kiss his scar. “I love you so much, Harry.”
Harry blinked rapidly a few times and leaned down to kiss his wife, infusing as much passion and love into the kiss as he could. “A baby,” he breathed in wonder. He kissed her lips, her cheek, then drifted down and pulled her shirt up so he could kiss her tummy. Hermione ran her hands through his hair as his lips caressed her skin, then pulled him back up into her embrace.
As she kissed her husband, the father of her child, Hermione Potter couldn’t think of anywhere else she’d rather be than right where she was.
~*~
Notes: My thanks must go to slumusicgirl and junesrose for their most excellent betas; between the two of them, they picked up a lot of little errors I’d made. I also want to thank cheeringcharm, rainpuddle13, msgenevieve and anneu53714, who read this fic at various stages, for becoming my cheer squad and encouraging me to finish.
The Peninsula Hotel does indeed exist; I linked the Peninsula suite from their site and used their description of it, altering the wording slightly. I couldn’t find a description of what lies on the 8th and 9th floors of the main building, so I used them for Chan’s office and living quarters. The Golden Dragon restaurant was made up by me, although it’s quite possible such a restaurant exists in Hong Kong.
Fans of Law & Order: SVU might recognise the team leader’s name; actress Mariska Hargitay plays Olivia Benson. I also chose Olivia for the lovely olivia_lupin.
Thanks for reading!
“I need a drink,” Harry muttered upon their arrival to the twenty-sixth floor, where their penthouse was located. Going over to the liquor cabinet, he poured himself a whiskey and Hermione a vodka and tonic while she called her mother. Once she was done, she took the glass Harry had left by the phone and sipped it slowly. She didn’t normally drink so early in the afternoon, and not while she was working, but like Harry, she was tense and needed to relax.
“Tell me we know that Mr. White from somewhere.”
“We do,” Harry confirmed. “I just can’t place him, but there’s something terribly familiar about him.” He went over to the telescope that sat near the balcony doors and looked out at the city through the lens. Letting out a sigh, he loosened his tie and joined Hermione on the white couch.
“Do you think he could have been Chan’s contact in disguise?”
Harry didn’t answer for a moment, taking another mouthful of whiskey. “Perhaps.” They sat in companionable silence for a few long moments, and then Harry patted her leg. “Let’s go out for dinner to a really swanky restaurant. My treat.”
Hermione smiled and covered his hand with her own, their fingers lacing together. “I’d like that. We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”
“We have.” They had made plans to wait until nightfall then take their own, private tour of the hotel to search Chan’s office in the hope it might yield something useful. They knew from their surveillance he did keep a limited quantity of the wizarding items he sold somewhere nearby, as he’d been able to produce extra items upon request almost instantly, which ruled out their theory that his contact only sent one thing at a time.
They changed into something more comfortable and wrote out some reports required by the Ministry, updating their superior as to the progress of their assignment. Once they’d sent everything off by their specially arranged stealth owl, they relaxed for an hour or so and then got ready for their outing.
Transported by the limousine Chan had at their disposal, Harry gave instructions to the driver and he deposited them outside The Golden Dragon. They savoured a delicious meal, and afterwards Harry was able to persuade Hermione to take a spin with him on the dance floor. They swayed along to the live band, joined at various times by other couples, and discussed various nuances of their case quietly so as not to be overheard.
Hermione had enjoyed their dinner and time alone so much that she was reluctant to head back to the hotel, but they had a job to do and a limited timeframe in which to do it, so she didn’t complain as Harry led her back to the limousine. They were not surprised to run into Chan on their way back to the suite, and they made a big show of bidding him good night and making him aware they were retiring for the evening.
Stanley Chan was a creature of habit; they knew he retired every night at midnight without fail. He had what appeared to be an expensive Grandfather clock in his office, and once it began to strike twelve, he would pack up his things and put them away.
When it hit midnight, they changed into black apparel and packed a bag with equipment they would need for their expedition. They couldn’t use Apparition as a means of travel, because it was possible Chan’s wizarding contact was in the hotel somewhere and would be able to detect the magic needed to propel them from one part of the hotel to another, so they had to resort to sneaking around the Muggle way. Hermione made sure to include parchment and a special duplicating quill so she could record any information they might find; also tucked inside was a Portkey that had been rigged to bring them back to their suite. However, this was only to be used in case of emergency, because once it had been activated, it would disintegrate upon arrival at their destination.
Harry shrank the bag and tucked it into his pocket, then rummaged around the bag that sat by his side of the bed for something. Hermione, who paused at the doorway, looked at him over her shoulder. “What are you looking for?”
“This,” he replied, pulling out the cloak he’d gotten for Christmas when he was eleven.
“Your invisibility cloak? What did you bring that for?”
“Because I don’t want to take any risks that Chan might find out we’ve left the suite. We already know he hasn’t bugged inside here, but that’s not to say he doesn’t have a camera installed outside in the passageway. If he sees us leave, he’ll know we’re up to something.”
“We are up to something!”
Harry grinned and followed Hermione as she headed for the front door. “I know that, but he doesn’t and I’d like to keep it that way.” Once they reached the front door, he stepped up behind her, taking the back because he was taller, and threw the cloak over them. Placing one arm around her waist, he pulled her back against him.
“Won’t it look strange if the door opens and nobody comes out?” Hermione asked.
Harry paused, giving it thought. “I suppose so. But we have to get out somehow. There’s a fire escape next to the lift, head for there.”
Once they’d got the door open, they moved as quickly as they could to the fire escape, then stopped as the door slammed shut behind them. Hermione paused; they had to move carefully under the cloak, making sure to walk together with perfect synchrony or they might get caught. “You okay?” Harry whispered in her ear.
“I’m fine. Let’s go.”
Their suite was located in the Peninsula Tower; they knew that Chan’s living quarters were on the level above his office, which was on the eighth floor of the main building. To get from one tower to another, they had to cross the main lobby, so by the time they’d gone down twenty-six flights of stairs and up another eight, they were both breathing heavily and sweating under the cloak.
Once they reached the door that opened onto the eighth floor, Hermione tried the handle to find it was locked. She waved her hand over it, uttering a whispered Alohomora, and the door swung open without protest. They reached the heavy oak doors that guarded the entrance to the inner sanctum of Chan’s office without resistance, but then again, they hadn’t expected to encounter anyone. Nobody could access the eighth and ninth floors unless they had a special card that activated the lift; and these had only been given to Chan, his wife, and those he trusted.
Once they were safely in the office, they remained under the cloak and checked for cameras and microphones. Each one was located and a spell cast by Hermione, which made them useless for an hour. Anyone looking through the camera would see an empty office, as it had been before Harry and Hermione entered it. Harry threw off the cloak and they both took a few deep breaths before lighting the ends of their wands.
“Right, where do we start?”
“Why don’t you go through his documents,” Harry said, pointing to the filing cabinets backed against one wall, “while I open the safe and see exactly what he’s got hidden away.”
They moved quickly and quietly. Hermione pulled out file after file and moved the quill over them, which then transcribed the words onto parchment. She recorded the dates, prices and names of buyers for all sales he’d made in the last year; these might yield information useful at a later date. Harry sifted through the contents of the safe, describing each item as he pulled it out; hovering near his ear was a small, flat silver disk that recorded the details and took a picture.
They were so caught up in recording as much as they could that they almost didn’t hear the noise of someone entering the outer doors. Looking at each other in alarm, Hermione grabbed the quill and parchments with one hand and picked up her wand, casting a spell that neatly returned all Chan’s documents to their rightful place in the cabinets. Harry did the same with the safe items, barely allowing them time to fly back inside before he was shutting the safe door and putting the painting back up over it magically. He grabbed Hermione around the waist and threw the invisibility cloak over them as they both said “Nox”, and they slowly shuffled back as someone entered the inner office. As they hid in one corner, Hermione looked over at the desk and saw with horror that she’d left a piece of parchment behind.
“Accio parchment!” she hissed as quietly as possible, and it flew across the room into her hand. She prayed that their new arrival hadn’t seen it. Harry tightened his grip around her waist as the lamp on the desk was turned on.
With illumination, they could see that their visitor was none other than Chan... and he wasn’t alone. Chan eased himself into his chair and gestured to another on the opposite side of the desk; the other guest sat down. As he did, the hood of his cloak fell back to reveal his identity.
Harry placed his hand over Hermione’s mouth to prevent her shocked intake of breath being heard as they both stared at none other than Draco Malfoy.
“Have you moved the items yet?” Malfoy asked in an almost bored voice.
“Not yet, Mr. White,” Chan responded, and Hermione felt Harry shift slightly behind her and move his hand away. No wonder they had both thought him familiar. But why was Chan calling him Mr. White? The logical side of Hermione’s brain kicked in, and it didn’t take her long to realise that Narcissa Malfoy’s maiden name had been Black. She should have thought of that. Now was not the time for self-flagellation, though; they had to keep very quiet and very still, and listen to the conversation.
“Why not?” Malfoy countered. “I’ve already told you, there’s something about this Evans couple I don’t like. I don’t trust them.”
“I checked their backgrounds thoroughly before bringing them here,” Chan said. “There was nothing that made me suspicious of them. They are wealthy, Mr. White. I cannot turn their business away.”
“You’re too greedy, Chan,” Malfoy said accusingly. “I’ve already told you, you can make triple what you earn from selling this Muggle crap. All you have to do is sell more of the items I give you.”
Chan shifted in his seat. Hermione couldn’t tell if he was uncomfortable or nervous, but something about his demeanour wasn’t right. “I am happy continuing our arrangement as it is.”
“Fine,” Malfoy said, rising out of his seat. “Just give me the money and I’ll be on my way. But don’t say I didn’t warn you, Chan.”
Chan’s hand disappeared underneath his desk and a small drawer suddenly popped out; Hermione surmised there was a secret button underneath. He took out a rather large velvet sack and placed in on the table in front of Malfoy, who opened it and peered inside. “Excellent,” Malfoy said, apparently happy with what he saw. He reached inside his cloak and pulled out an envelope, sliding it across to Chan. “Here’s your cut.”
Chan merely nodded. “You will be in contact again soon?”
“When I’m ready,” Malfoy said dismissively. “I’ll see myself out.” He rose and headed for the exit without a second glance, but stopped once he reached the doors. “When are they leaving?”
“I have an appointment with Mr. Evans the day after tomorrow. The money for the vase will be through the day after that. They should be leaving in three days.”
“Good.” Malfoy nodded and disappeared without another word. Once he was gone, Chan exhaled loudly, then aimlessly shuffled a few things around on his desk. After a few minutes, he pushed the drawer closed and stood, turning the lamp off and leaving the room.
Harry and Hermione waited a few minutes before they allowed themselves to move. “Oh my God,” Hermione said, still stunned by the identity of Chan’s contact.
“Let’s get back to the suite immediately.” Hermione couldn’t see Harry’s face, but she could feel how tense he was, so she obeyed without question.
~*~
Once they got back safely, they discussed what they’d seen and heard, and all the details were recorded and owled back to the Ministry without delay. A team would be assembled and sent to Hong Kong to help with the capture of Draco Malfoy, now that they knew exactly who it was they were after. They still had to play their roles for now; they couldn’t afford to tip Chan off that they knew who he was dealing with.
Hermione found herself on edge and unable to sleep once she’d changed into her pyjamas and gotten ready for bed, even though it was one in the morning. Harry had climbed into his side of the bed as soon as he’d come out of the bathroom, and she actually thought he’d gone to sleep until he spoke. “You coming to bed?”
“Not yet,” Hermione answered as she stood near the window. “You sleep, though. I’m just thinking.”
She heard the rustle of blankets being pulled back, and felt Harry’s arms go around her waist as he came to stand behind her once again. She rested her head against his shoulder and breathed in; he smelled like… Harry. She couldn’t describe it, but even if she hadn’t known it was him, she would still have been able to tell. He smelled like soap and sweat and smoke from the fire he’d stood in front of when they’d gotten back.
“Thinking about Malfoy or your Dad?”
She actually had been thinking of Malfoy, although her father was never far from her thoughts. Every morning since her father’s death, she’d woken with him on her mind. Sometimes she dreamed of him being right next to her, watching her sleep. Sometimes she was a little girl again, and he was pushing her on the tyre they used to have roped up to the old tree out the back. Sometimes he was sitting up in his coffin, telling her not to cry, and she always woke from that particular dream screaming.
Hermione was tired. She was tired, and shocked about Malfoy, and missing her Dad, and it finally all got the better of her. She told Harry about her dreams, and how she’d sometimes wake from them in tears. She told him how she wished she could see her father just one more time to tell him how much she loved him. Once Hermione was done talking, she realised her face was wet with tears.
Harry turned her around and kissed her forehead, and then led her over to the bed, where he sat her down on the edge of it and kneeled down in front of her. There was enough light from the moon and the city below them for her to be able to see his face.
“Hermione, he knew. He knew you loved him. Don’t ever doubt that for a second.”
“But it hurts, Harry.” Even as she said the words, her chest tightened painfully and more tears leaked from her eyes. “I still can’t believe he’s gone. He’ll never see me marry or have children. I’ll never be able to pick up the phone again and hear one of his awful jokes.” She laughed in spite of herself, but the smile soon faded. “I can’t--” Hermione paused, choking on her words. “Harry...”
“I know.” Harry cupped her face and wiped her tears away with his thumbs, then leaned his forehead against hers as she cried. And cry Hermione did. She let it out, big, heaving sobs that didn’t seem to end. Harry hugged her to him, rocking her gently until finally, the sobs subsided and she sniffed.
When Hermione pulled back, she thought of what Harry had last said... and she realised something that had never really occurred to her before. Harry did know how she felt. He was likely the only person other than her mother who truly understood her loss. He could feel her pain at having lost her father, because he’d lost his too. He’d lost both his parents and he’d never really known them.
“You do know,” she breathed, her hands coming up to his face. “You do understand, don’t you, Harry?”
Harry looked straight into her eyes. “Yes, I do.”
Hermione gazed at him in wonder. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“What for?”
“I had thirty-one years with my father. You only had one.”
Something in Harry’s eyes told Hermione that he understood what she was saying. She realised that all these years, no one close to Harry had really been able to comprehend his loss; perhaps Sirius had, but Harry had lost him too. And suddenly, Hermione wanted so desperately to take all of Harry’s pain away; the pain of losing his parents, the pain of living for so long with people who had starved him of food and love and affection, the pain of having friends who had come from loving families and had never really been able to understand what it had been like for him growing up.
Only now could she truly appreciate the depth of what she felt for this man; losing her father had made Hermione reassess how she felt about those left in her life. So she did the only thing she knew could. She closed the distance between them and began to kiss his face; sweet, tiny kisses all over. She kissed his forehead, his eyes, his nose and his cheeks. She kissed his jaw and the scar that made him famous. Harry’s arms stayed around her waist and his eyes remained closed, even when she pulled back.
“I love you,” she said as she kissed his mouth.
At first, the kiss was gentle; merely lips pressed together, with no attempt to deepen it. After a few seconds, Hermione pulled back and Harry opened his eyes. They stared at each other as they took in what was happening between them. They could easily have stopped it, but neither of them wanted to.
This time, it was Harry who kissed Hermione, and she pulled him close as he slid his tongue into her open mouth. Her body tingled with electricity as it awakened for the first time in so long; Hermione felt herself come alive in the circle of Harry’s arms.
Every time they separated to breathe, they were back together within seconds. Hermione would have been quite happy to sit there and kiss Harry until the end of time. She ran her fingers through his hair as she kissed him, marvelling at how soft it was. Harry had released her lips and was now kissing his way down her neck, and she kissed the top of his head as he shifted her hips closer to him.
He made his way back up, gently biting her earlobe, and she shivered as his lips found hers again. There was nothing tender about their kiss this time; it was passionate and hot. Hermione made no attempt to stop the moans that were rising from the back of her throat, and she whimpered when Harry’s hand slipped underneath her pyjama top to touch her bare skin. When his hand reached her breast, she broke away from him and rested her head against his, relishing the feel of his fingers as they caressed and stroked her softly, and after a few moments, she pulled his hand away, slid back onto the bed, and drew him on top of her.
An hour later, Harry was asleep, curled up on his side with his arm over Hermione’s chest. She lay on her back, as awake as she’d ever been. Hermione admitted to herself that the thought of sleeping with Harry had crossed her mind from time to time; when she was younger, she’d done the same with Ron. As close as the trio had been for twenty years, certain feelings and thoughts were bound to crop up every now and then, and she was aware that they were both attractive men in their own way. She had always thought, however, that if it ever did happen, afterwards would be awkward and unsure. Such an event changed the nature of a friendship and once you crossed certain boundaries, you couldn’t go back.
But as Hermione lay there, her hand running up and down Harry’s arm, she couldn’t have been more wrong. Sure, they would have to talk about where they went from here because obviously, things were very different now. Hermione knew she loved Harry and it was very possible she was falling in love with him, if she wasn’t already. She didn’t regret making love to him for one moment and she was sure, given the way he’d held her afterwards and kissed her almost possessively, that he felt the same way. However, any discussions of this nature would have to wait until they were back in England and off this case. While the timing was poor, she felt that perhaps it was a bridge they should have crossed a long time ago.
She turned over onto her side to face Harry and cuddled up close to him, and he roused from his slumber to kiss her forehead. “Sleep,” he murmured.
“Yes, I’ll sleep,” she whispered, and finally closed her eyes.
~*~
When Hermione awoke the next morning, the first thing she realised was that the bed was empty. She sat up and was happier than she thought she should have been to see Harry hadn’t disappeared; he was on the balcony, a bathrobe wrapped around him. She pulled the sheet up to cover herself decently and watched him for a few moments, studying his outline against the gloriously sunny backdrop.
He turned in her direction and smiled when he saw she was awake. She smiled back as he came inside and crawled onto the bed, hovering over her on his hands and knees. “Good morning,” he said, leaning in to kiss her. Hermione closed her eyes and did nothing but savour the feel of his lips on hers; still something new to her, but wonderful just the same. She could certainly get used to kissing Harry.
Pulling back, she kept the sheet up over her breasts with one hand and placed the other on his cheek, the feel of his stubble rough against her fingertips. “How did you sleep?”
“Very well. How about you? Any dreams?” His face showed a glimmer of concern.
“No, no dreams.” She couldn’t resist kissing him again, her lips lingering on his.
“Mmmm,” Harry murmured. “I could get used to that.”
Hermione smiled, a warm glow rising within her. Harry didn’t regret their night together any more than she did. She kissed him once more before speaking. “We really should look over all the documents I copied last night. Gabriel will be expecting a full report of what happened.”
Harry sat back on his knees, his eyes twinkling. “Not everything, I hope.”
Hermione smacked him with a pillow, and he yelped with laughter. “I’m serious, Harry. I need to owl him a report today.”
“I know.” Harry’s smile faded. “We have a free day today because we’re not due to meet Chan again until tomorrow afternoon, so let’s have some breakfast and get it done. Then perhaps we can venture out and do a cruise on the harbour or something.”
“That would be lovely,” Hermione admitted. “I’m just going to take a shower first.”
“Excellent,” Harry said, jumping off the bed. “I’ll come wash your back.”
Hermione opened her mouth to tell him she was perfectly capable of washing herself, thank you, but the smouldering look in his eyes killed any protest she might have had.
~*~
Once they’d showered and eaten, they got comfortable in the lounge room and looked over everything they’d recorded the previous night. Harry took out the silver disk and flipped through the pictures of the items held in the safe, making notes about what he thought their purpose was and how relevant they appeared to be to their case, while Hermione made small, neat lists containing all the information Chan had in his files on the Muggles who’d bought from him. She cross-referenced them from the files the Ministry already had and pointed out those she felt were worthy of further investigation.
They ate lunch in their suite and kept going until everything was completed. Once they’d owled their reports off, they took a cruise around Kowloon Harbour, complete with Chan’s henchmen. Harry didn’t let Hermione go, either holding her hand or placing an arm around her waist, and Hermione snuggled close as they stood on the outside deck, taking in the view.
“We have terrible timing, you know,” she commented, hoping to start the discussion she knew would come up sooner or later.
“We sure do.” Harry kissed her forehead and then grasped her chin with his hand. “I want you to know something, Hermione. What’s happened between us is a great thing and I’m not sorry it happened. While our timing isn’t the best, because we’re going to have to concentrate on this case, I don’t consider this to be some sort of... fling. This is real, for me. This is it.” Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but he held a hand up. “Let me finish. I’m not just saying it because I think it’s appropriate and I don’t want it to sound trite. You need to know, Hermione. I love you. I always have, ever since we were young. But now it feels different, and I’m willing to follow wherever this takes us, if you are too.”
Hermione nodded, her eyes misty. “I am.” He released her chin and she leaned in to kiss him.
~*~
Based on the reports that Harry and Hermione sent, the Ministry sent a team of Aurors to Hong Kong to capture Draco Malfoy and question Stanley Chan. The team of five arrived via Portkey just after they’d gotten back from the cruise, which meant they appeared directly in the suite without being detected. It also meant that Harry and Hermione had to watch their interaction, as they didn’t want to let on something had changed between them.
One of the Aurors sent a stealth owl to order some dinner for the rest of the team, while Harry and Hermione ordered room service as normal. Harry filled the team in on the events of the last two days and filled in the gaps where requested, and the team leader, Olivia Hargitay, in turn brought them up to speed from the Ministry’s end. It was discussed amongst the seven Aurors that Harry and Hermione would keep their appointment with Chan and try to get him to admit he was selling wizarding items, and then Olivia’s team would take over. Discussion then moved on to how they were going to capture Draco Malfoy.
“I don’t think he’s staying in the hotel anywhere,” Harry said. “He must have a place nearby. He met Chan in the early hours of the morning, although that was more likely to have been Chan’s idea, but he was also present at our meeting yesterday afternoon.”
“Does he know who you are?” Olivia asked.
“He’s suspicious,” Harry admitted. “He told Chan he didn’t trust us.”
“Do you think he might try and eavesdrop on your meeting tomorrow?”
“Absolutely,” Hermione said. “When Harry mentioned wanting to talk to Chan about a private matter, Malfoy was definitely listening. His body tensed slightly. I was watching him.”
Olivia nodded. “We really need to try and catch him in the act. Harry, what you need to do is ask Chan for something he won’t have on hand. Try the vampire’s blood, because we know Chan only had enough for the order placed last month. He’ll have to contact Malfoy and, with any luck, Malfoy will hand deliver.”
“I don’t think so, Liv,” Harry countered. “He’s already suspicious of us as it is. He’s not going to take any risks now.” Harry stared down at the parchment scattered all over the floor thoughtfully. “Malfoy’s smart. He’s eluded capture and even detection up until now. We’re going to have to move very carefully if we want to get him.”
The group discussion was interrupted by the arrival of room service, prompting the team to cloak themselves and their equipment, and soon after more food arrived via owl, so they all ate and tossed around ideas on how best to proceed with Malfoy’s capture.
Hermione could tell that Harry was determined to get Malfoy by any means possible. She recognised the look on his face, and knew he would risk a great deal to achieve it. Tamping down the flare of worry that welled inside her, Hermione tried to pay attention to the conversation, but all her thoughts continued to circle around Harry.
Finally, after agreeing that the best way to proceed would be to play it by ear and see what happened the next afternoon, the group spread out to find sleeping quarters, converting lounges and tables into mattresses and conjuring up pillows and blankets. The master bedroom and one of the others had been left empty for Harry and Hermione to use, and it was with a heavy heart at the knowledge she would have to sleep alone that night that Hermione bid everyone a good night and went to the master bedroom to change and clean her teeth.
When she came out of the bathroom, Hermione found herself being pushed against the wall and kissed to within an inch of her life. She was so stunned that she wasn’t able to react for a few seconds, but when she realised that Harry had snuck into her room she relaxed, her arms going around his neck and her hands playing with his hair as his tongue slid over hers and curled around it, making her moan.
When he let her go, she pressed her body up against his. “How did you get in here?” she asked breathlessly.
“Through the door.” He grinned cheekily at her and kissed the side of her neck.
She pinched his bottom and he yelped. “Smart arse,” she said. “I mean, how did you get away?”
“You must have forgotten I’m an Auror, Miss Granger. I’m trained to be sneaky.” His face sobered as he looked at her. “I couldn’t let you go to sleep without kissing you good night, could I?”
Hermione sighed. “I really wish you could stay.”
“So do I.” He kissed her nose. “But I can’t, not with all the people here.”
“I know.” Still, Hermione was reluctant to let him go, and she kissed him deeply to show him she meant what she’d said. Eventually, they separated, breathing heavily. “You’d better go.”
“Yeah.” Harry remained on the spot until Hermione nudged him, and he kissed her one last time before leaving the room, ensuring nobody was hovering outside the door. With a final smile at her over his shoulder, he slipped out into the darkness, leaving a melancholy Hermione behind. She climbed into bed and tried unsuccessfully not to think about Harry, and eventually fell into a restless sleep.
~*~
Harry and Hermione had an appointment with Chan at five the next afternoon, so the team spent the morning going over their plans and taking to the streets in search of any sign of Draco Malfoy. While they were fairly certain he didn’t live at the hotel, as Chan did, they knew he was likely close by. Harry had suggested that Malfoy wouldn’t allow a Muggle like Chan to do too much without keeping an eye on him; he knew Malfoy most likely hadn’t overcome his blatant hatred of all things Muggle and only tolerated Chan because he could make Malfoy money.
They searched as many rooms in the hotel as they could without attracting attention to themselves; then, splitting up into smaller groups, they canvassed the surrounding areas. They hadn’t honestly expected Draco Malfoy to simply show up in the street, so they weren’t too disappointed when they didn’t find him.
As the time drew nearer for the appointment with Chan, Olivia’s team carefully positioned themselves in the main building near Chan’s office. Two were assigned to the enormous hotel lobby; two more wandered from floor to floor, and Olivia placed herself on the eighth floor in the fire escape nearest Chan’s office.
Harry and Hermione promptly arrived at the agreed time and were ushered in by two of Chan’s bodyguards. Chan rose from his chair to greet them, then dismissed the guards with a wave of his hand.
“So, Mr. Evans,” Chan began. “What is this private matter you wished to speak with me about?”
As rehearsed, Harry cut straight to the chase. “An associate of mine has informed me that you sell some... unusual items.” Harry stood and moved to stand behind Hermione’s chair, his hand resting reassuringly on her shoulder.
“Unusual items?” Chan’s expression gave nothing away.
“My wife and I are in need of vampire’s blood,” Harry said bluntly. “We understand you are a man who knows how to get such a thing.”
Chan’s eyes narrowed slightly. “And this associate of yours,” he said, emphasising the word ‘associate’ as if it was tainted. “What is his name?”
“His name is irrelevant to this discussion,” Harry said smoothly. “Can you get it for us or can’t you?”
Chan pushed his chair back slowly and rose out of it, and Hermione was sure her heart was beating so hard against her chest that it was going to come bursting out. Her Auror instincts told her something was going to happen, something bad... but before she could activate the small signal to call Olivia and her team in, Chan had whipped out a wand from nowhere and pointed it straight at her.
“CRUCIO!” he roared angrily, and a searing pain overtook Hermione’s body. She slid out of the chair and onto the floor as she writhed in agony. She could hear herself screaming, but she didn’t know if it was just in her head or whether noise was actually coming from her body. She tried to concentrate and focus to throw the curse, but the pain was so blinding that all she could do was cry out.
As suddenly as it had hit her, the spell was lifted, and Hermione pulled herself up to see Harry had sent Chan flying into the wall behind him, his wand knocked out of reach. Chan picked himself up and rushed at Harry, and the two of them grappled for control. Harry tried to point his wand at Chan, but the older man knocked it flying before Harry could utter a curse. With a roar of rage, Chan’s hands curled around Harry’s neck and squeezed. Harry was strong, but Chan appeared to be inexplicably stronger, and Hermione could see Harry’s face turning an alarming shade of purple. She tried to stand, but couldn’t muster the strength to get to her feet, so she picked up her wand, which had clattered uselessly to the floor beside her, and waved it in a figure eight pattern to summon Olivia and the team.
To their credit, it took them a matter of seconds to overpower the guards on the door and come busting in. Chan was no match for five Aurors, and once he was surrounded with their wands pointing at him, he let go of his hold on Harry’s neck and put up his hands in surrender. Harry went straight over to Hermione and helped her to her feet, and she leaned in to kiss his neck softly, not caring who saw her do it.
“You okay?” he asked in a low voice, which brimmed with anger.
“I’m fine. Are you hurt?”
“No.” His face told another story, but Hermione let it go for now and they turned to look at Chan.
Chan slowly shuffled on the spot until he was facing Harry and Hermione, and with a grimace, uttered something under his breath... and small sparks of light began to come out of the top of his head. His appearance began to alter as a ring of white light moved down his body. Once it was done, before them stood Draco Malfoy.
“Fools,” he sneered, his face twisted into an ugly leer. “Did you really think a few disguising spells would trick me? You think I didn’t recognise you the second you walked through the door? Nice try, though.”
Olivia smiled tightly and spoke. “Draco Malfoy, you are hereby summoned to appear before the Ministry of Magic to answer to the charges of smuggling and illegally selling prohibited items. You are also charged--”
“Do shut up,” Malfoy sneered, interrupting Olivia. “I’d love to hang around and chat, but I really must be going. Until next time, Potter. And there will be a next time.” He spoke in an ominous tone, then pulled the edge of his cloak up over his head before anyone could stop him... and vanished.
All seven Aurors stared at the space which Malfoy had occupied not more than two seconds previously. “Where the bloody hell did he go?” one of them asked.
“Shit!” Olivia swore. “He must have had some sort of Portkey hidden on him so he could escape.” She cast a spell to try and trace the elements of the magic Malfoy had used, but he was long gone.
They all exchanged glances, then slumped defeatedly.
“Where’s the real Chan, then?” Hermione asked tiredly. In the midst of what had happened, nobody had thought about the man Malfoy had been impersonating. Olivia split her team up into two and had them scour the hotel for Chan, who was eventually found unconscious in his private living quarters.
The Ministry was promptly notified of the events and more wizards arrived, including a member of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, who subsequently wiped Stanley Chan’s memory of all dealings with wizards, since it was unlikely Malfoy would approach him again.
Gabriel Von Dukan was among those who came to Hong Kong, and he cornered Hermione as she was being treated by a Ministry Healer. Once she assured him she was going to be fine, he moved on to talk to Olivia, who was in the process of explaining once again what had happened. The Ministry went through and erased all traces of anything magical so that when Stanley Chan woke up the next day, he would remember nothing about his dealings with Draco Malfoy or James and Jane Evans.
By the time the Healer was through with her and she’d answered some cursory questions, Hermione was ready to collapse. All she wanted was to hold Harry and sleep for a thousand years. From the looks they’d been able to exchange, she knew he felt the same way.
They returned to London with Olivia and her team, and once they’d given yet another debriefing to their department heads and made it clear they would be all right, Harry and Hermione were told to take a few days off to recover and rest. For once, neither of them argued, and Harry escorted Hermione back to her flat.
Once they got inside and dumped their suitcases, Harry turned to Hermione and opened his arms, and she willingly went into his embrace, holding him tightly as she slumped against him. The shock of everything that had happened eventually sunk in, and she began to cry. Her chest still twinged with pain as she moved, so she let Harry guide her to their bedroom and together they laid down on her bed.
Her tears subsided and they were simply content to hold each other. Daylight streamed through her window, as it was only morning in London because London was seven hours behind Hong Kong, so Harry got up to close the blinds and then went back to Hermione. He lay still as she kissed his neck softly, the outline of finger marks visible. He would likely be bruised come morning, but he didn’t care how bruised he was. What had shaken him more was the curse that Malfoy had inflicted upon Hermione. What if he hadn’t been able to knock Malfoy’s wand out of the way? What if he’d somehow been incapacitated and unable to help her? He gathered her closer, and her fingers came up to rest on his lips.
“Don’t, Harry,” she whispered. “It wasn’t your fault. I know what you’re thinking.”
Of course she did. She always had. He kissed her, thankful that he had this woman in his life.
~*~
Two years later
Hermione opened the balcony doors of the Peninsula Suite and stared out over Kowloon Bay, breathing in deeply, before turning back to her husband. Harry had thrown himself onto the bed and was stretched out, watching her as she stood in the sun. This time, they were not acting. There was no assignment. Exactly one year previously, Hermione had slid a gold band onto Harry’s finger with a promise to love, honour and cherish him for the rest of her life. And that was one promise Mrs. Hermione Potter fully intended to keep.
She smiled and joined him on the bed, moving into his arms as he pulled her close to kiss her. “It’s a lovely surprise, Harry,” she said, pulling away to look at him. Hermione had not been told where they were going for their anniversary. “Returning to the scene of the crime, as it were.”
“Well, this is the room where we first made love,” Harry pointed out, pressing a kiss to her jaw.
“I’m well aware of that. I’m really pleased you chose to come back here. There’s plenty we never got to do last time.”
“Under the circumstances, I’m surprised we got to do anything. I wonder how Stanley Chan’s going.” Stanley Chan and his consortium still owned The Peninsula Hotel, but he kept all his dealings legitimate -- and only dealt with fellow Muggles. The Hong Kong Ministry of Magic had kept an eye on him for six months afterwards, but when he’d shown no sign of selling anything remotely magical, they’d closed the case and owled the British Ministry, who did the same.
“Well, we can hardly go and ask him without arousing suspicion,” Hermione said. “I’m sure he’s fine. And much better off without having Malfoy to deal with.” Draco Malfoy was still in hiding, and no trace of him had been found for two years. Harry had quietly pursued him, but had yet to get a lead. Somehow, Hermione thought Harry would always be after Malfoy for what he’d done to her, but she hoped the news she was about to give Harry would make him rethink his decision to hunt Malfoy down.
She propped herself up on one elbow. “Yes, it is a lovely surprise. And since you had one for me, I think it’s only fair that I have one for you.”
“Oh?” Harry perked up, and he looked at his wife adoringly. “What kind of surprise?”
“Well, I can’t tell you much about it. All I can tell you for now is that you’ll have to wait about eight months for your surprise to arrive.”
Harry frowned. “Eight months? That means...” He trailed off when he realised exactly what Hermione meant. “Oh my God,” he said, breathing in excitedly.
“Hello, Daddy,” she said, brushing away an errant lock of hair off his forehead. She lay back and cupped his face in her hands, and pulled his head down so she could gently kiss his scar. “I love you so much, Harry.”
Harry blinked rapidly a few times and leaned down to kiss his wife, infusing as much passion and love into the kiss as he could. “A baby,” he breathed in wonder. He kissed her lips, her cheek, then drifted down and pulled her shirt up so he could kiss her tummy. Hermione ran her hands through his hair as his lips caressed her skin, then pulled him back up into her embrace.
As she kissed her husband, the father of her child, Hermione Potter couldn’t think of anywhere else she’d rather be than right where she was.
~*~
Notes: My thanks must go to slumusicgirl and junesrose for their most excellent betas; between the two of them, they picked up a lot of little errors I’d made. I also want to thank cheeringcharm, rainpuddle13, msgenevieve and anneu53714, who read this fic at various stages, for becoming my cheer squad and encouraging me to finish.
The Peninsula Hotel does indeed exist; I linked the Peninsula suite from their site and used their description of it, altering the wording slightly. I couldn’t find a description of what lies on the 8th and 9th floors of the main building, so I used them for Chan’s office and living quarters. The Golden Dragon restaurant was made up by me, although it’s quite possible such a restaurant exists in Hong Kong.
Fans of Law & Order: SVU might recognise the team leader’s name; actress Mariska Hargitay plays Olivia Benson. I also chose Olivia for the lovely olivia_lupin.
Thanks for reading!