Black and White

The interlude in Italy was entirely too brief.

Before Hermione was the wiser, she was in a Portkey station with Ginny, trying to attach what seemed like every backpack ever manufactured to their bodies and not fall down from the weight. And then they were in a dark, dirty muggle alley, taking the Knightbus to Hogsmeade station. The brunette allowed Ginny to chat the trip away, since she had no desire for talking herself.

She learned more about her former fellow Gryffindor classmates in that three-hour ride than she'd ever cared to know - and even a few things about Harry that she had not been aware of, damn the introspective git - and wondered if Ginny would consider a career in spying, as well. She sure knew how to get information, from the sound of it. Hermione vowed to keep Ginny as one of her regular sources. Lavender and Parvati often got distracted by trivial details, whereas Ginny seemed to grasp the important information naturally.

When at last the duo arrived it was almost dusk, and they were both very tired in spite of the excitement. An abnormally sentimental McGonagall took Hermione to the Guests' Wing, where she was reunited with an unexpectedly large group of alumni. They all had finished or were close to finishing their own training, and Hermione felt a pang of fear thinking that this may well be the last time she saw some of them.

Then she shook herself out of it, reminding herself that she had thought much the same when they graduated, and everyone seemed to be just fine, thank you.

"Well, well. Look who's back home."

Hermione spun, facing a disturbingly grown-up-looking Ronald Weasley. She could see he had filled in some - he had always been on the thin side, although not so far as to look underfed as Harry used to - tall and, in recent years, clumsy, what with elbows always sticking in wrong places and legs too long for the rest of his body. But Hermione had to confess that the awkward years of adolescence were past him, thank goodness, and Auror training suited him just fine. He still had a rather long nose and a million freckles, but now he had a dark, bad-boy air to him that was absent before.

Though the grin was just the same, and made her run to him unashamed and hug him so tight they nearly fell back on the floor, her legs wrapped around his waist, while she kissed him full in the mouth.

"You impossibly conceited rascal. I missed you so much!"

"Ahh..." Ron was stuttering. "I can tell."

Hermione grinned unrepentantly at him and eased herself off his body, giving him a good slap at the shoulders for good measure. Then she spotted the dark young man trying to look as if he was not waiting for her to notice him, his hands stuck in his jeans' pockets. Harry had given up the fight against his hair and grown it long enough to keep in a ponytail. He looked very different without the curls flying madly around his face, and she was surprised to see he was not wearing his glasses anymore. Those two things alone made him look completely different. Harry had filled out as well, though not as much as Ron, and he had always been a tad shorter anyway. In battered jeans and a Black Nirvana T-shirt, he looked suspiciously like a muggle rock star.

Hermione burst into giggles.

"What, you didn't miss me, too?"

"Of course I missed you. Come over here." Harry obeyed, the lightest hint of a mischievous smile on his mouth, and Hermione gave him much the same treatment Ron had received. "You do realize that you look like a punk, don't you?"

"I do not!" Harry protested vehemently. "Hermione, this is absurd. If you cannot tell the difference between a guy with a black tee and a punk I cannot say you'll be that good a researcher."

He was teasing her, which was odd because it had always been Ron doing the teasing.

"On second thought... you guys don't look half bad."

"Well, you don't look bad yourself, ma'am." Ron gave Harry a good-natured shove and assumed the lead. "Whatever you've been doing agreed mightily with you, I say."

"Why, thank you, sir."

Hermione linked her arms with both her friends and steered them all into a quieter corner of the Guests' Common Room. She had lots to talk about, even if she could not tell them everything that she'd been up to in the past ten months. She highly doubted they'd tell her everything, either. Some things never changed.

They sat, content to be in one another's company for the moment, and began exchanging impressions of the places they've (they'd) seen and some of the people they'd met. Hermione told them about Mrs. Oliveira and Andrew and Matt, about the Recifolia festival and the parks and museums in Curitiba, of beaches with crystal green water and white sand and of others where sharks might attack you even in waist deep water. She spoke of the quiet of the Canadian mountains. But she did not speak of Snape.

They didn't ask.

Harry told her about the Urals, dropping in some anecdotes of silly misadventures they had when they'd gone out hiking, and a few funny things about their colleagues and masters. Hermione couldn't help feeling envious of all the fun they'd had together, while she was alone and scared and learning how to grow claws and fangs all on her own, but schooled her features not to show any of that.

"And as soon as we got here Dumbledore told us we're assigned to northern Europe, which means we get to stay close to home, and he even chose a supervisor that'd put us to work in the British Islands, since we know the place and stuff," Ron informed her, his face beaming with excitement. Harry was even more reserved, and Hermione thought she knew why: being in Britain meant all their enemies also knew where he was, or at least where he was likely to be. Though it was the best spot to hunt Death Eaters, it was also the most dangerous. And even if Hermione could not fault his bravery or commitment to bring the war to an end, she worried about her friends.

She also had a most disturbing feeling about why Dumbledore would go so far as to meddle in their careers, once the training was done. The headmaster had always been one to lead and suggest, but not to get himself directly involved.

"What about you, Hermione? Do you have any idea what your first project's going to be?" Harry inquired. She turned to him to answer, finding a quiet resolve in those big green eyes of his, and herself acquiring some of that serenity as well.

Some things never changed. But some things did. And one of those was that even her closest friends could not know what she did.

"I have a mind to start researching new counter spells," she replied simply, thinking it was highly ironic she had chosen the same career as Lily once had as cover for her true job. "The ones we have are outrageously outdated. But I will not be officially connected to the Ministry. We've all agreed that I can do without the stress."

Harry smiled, and Ron rolled his eyes behind him. It only strengthened her resolve to keep her information to herself - until she had something tangible, there was no use in upsetting Harry. And what for, anyway? If Lily had crossed the line, Hermione was willing to let it pass as desperation. It still did not explain how in Merlin's name she knew that it was dragon blood that would do the trick, though Hermione had a very good idea of who was likely to have provided it. But now she was open to accept that maybe it had been love that saved Harry.

Which was entirely different from giving up the research, but it would remain a secret until she had concrete results. If she had to claim credit for the dragon blood, she would. As long as Harry did not get hurt.

"Oh, I don't know, Hermione. I think they wouldn't have had a chance," Harry declared solemnly, and then they were all laughing again.

Staying at Hogwarts was a bittersweet experience. There was some comfort in walking the paths of her youth, in smelling the musty scent of darkened secret passages and the distinct perfume of old scrolls, in walking barefoot by the lake on a clear April afternoon, in watching the students finally give up studying for the exams and go swimming. Hermione realized that this was the end of her youth. That she had somehow come full circle, and now she was ready for the next phase.

The Congress, as Dumbledore had insisted in calling their reunion, was a success. She had been officially labelled a free-lance researcher, and Nymphadora Tonks had contacted her about her effective entry in the Order of the Phoenix. That, at least, she could share with Ron and Harry, since they were members as well. Molly had only restrained Ginny until graduation, and the youngest Weasley had announced she was joining the squad in July no matter what. It had been quite the scene, actually, but the girl was nearly of age, and there had been nothing that Molly could do about it, much to her mother's chagrin. Susan Boots from Hufflepuff had joined also, and Hermione was hopeful that with the reinforcements they could finally defeat Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

She had also received directions for her first secret mission. Hermione was to investigate an Auror suspected of betraying the government and allying with Voldemort. She must find where his loyalty truly lied, without stopping her personal crusade for the Avada Kedavra counter curse. She was now alone, knowing only that Dumbledore was her senior supervisor and that she would report to him and to the head of the Department of Mysteries, Oswald Holmes. That was all she needed to know anyway.

Hermione knew well why Dumbledore had interfered to keep Harry and Ron in Britain. She also knew just how it was that she would approach their new supervisor, Brad Carlston, and what she'd have to do in case their intelligence proved true.

So she levitated her luggage to the Great Hall and casually placed it close to Harry and Ron's trunks, waiting with ill-concealed impatience while the boys finished god-knew-what with their Auror pals, having said her good-byes to Ginny already.

But her effort paid off when Ron returned with a tall, blonde man, speaking a thousand words per minute and gesturing madly to emphasize whatever it was they were discussing.

Across the hall Hermione saw Snape, who had remained annoyingly out of her reach - and most times even out of her sight - throughout the Congress. He was back in black clothes, trousers, robe and cape, as darkly forbidding as ever. Hermione could almost hear her heart cracking.

But she showed no emotion save a gay wave of farewell from a student only too eager to get rid of a difficult teacher, acknowledging his discreet nod. Others would think it was a greeting, or more specifically a farewell. But they both knew better - Snape would hardly greet Hermione Granger if he could get help it, and the crowd in between gave him a good enough excuse to sneak away. It was a sign, from one spy to another. Suspicion then turned to certainty, and from that moment on Carlston's days were numbered.

Hermione examined her victim not so discreetly. He was charming, she'd give him that - good-looking and easy going.

Hermione smiled brightly, bending forward just enough for him to wonder if her cleavage would give in as she shook his hand. "Mr. Carlston, I take it? The unfortunate soul who is now responsible for keeping my beloved kamikazes in one piece?"

Brad was all seductive smiles, as she'd known he would be. He was young enough not to see an association with a girl just out of school as kinky; Hermione decided he would be just shy of thirty. She wondered why he had taken the wrong path. Not that it would stop her.

"And you must be Miss Granger. I wondered why you didn't join, but your friends assured me you have something up your sleeve. You don't strike me as someone who'd stay out of the game."

Hermione did not bait an eyelash. "I think I'm more useful as a researcher. But don't worry, I'll be around if you need a hand with those two."

Brad nodded, then urged a baffled Ron into the thestral's carriage. "Are you accompanying us back to London, Miss Granger?"

"Hermione, please." When Brad turned around sharply, understanding slowly dawning in his amber eyes, the woman simply passed him the luggage. "I thought I might enjoy Ron's company a while longer before you guys work him to slavery. If you don't mind, that is. Oh, and there's Harry."

Harry was running down the stairs, a particularly guilty look his face. Hermione hardly had time to realize what it might mean, and what a traitor might do when he learned that Harry Potter's girlfriend was someone still at Hogwarts. She quickly took Brad's arm, making sure her breast brushed him slightly, and politely demanded to know whether he would bother to explain to her the basics of Auror's work.

Brad was distracted enough to grab the rest of her luggage and assure her that indeed not, they would love to have her company for the trip. And as he went about storing them in the baggage compartment behind the carriage, Hermione turned to look at her friends. She shouldn't have worried; Harry and Ron would not, thank Merlin, discuss Harry's love life with a supervisor they'd barely met. And she would probably find a way to terminate Carlston quietly before he had time to contact the Death Eaters. After their arrival at the train station in London. Probably invite him to a couple of drinks at the Leaky Cauldron or wherever adult wizards usually went to get themselves sloshed and date. That'd give her an excuse to do him quietly... yes, that'd do. Her stomach tightened a little at the thought of killing a man, but she fought against it. Hesitation would only get her killed. She glanced back at the end of the Hall. Hogwarts had always represented Light and Wisdom for her, Bravery, a shelter throughout the ages from a world that was less than gracious in its acceptance of magic and the occasional evil madwizard. It felt wrong, somehow, that she'd leave that lighthouse in the arms of a man she would murder in a few hours. Like she was soiling the sanctuary.

Snape was still there, looking for the entire world as if he was just observing them leaving. Once more she resented the lack of communication, resented that she could not even ask him for another meeting, later. They were both spies now, and a spy's strength lies in secrecy. Hermione still thought it unfair.

She held his gaze for a moment, wondering when they would have a chance to discuss their feelings again. If there would still be any feelings to discuss when the time came. But come it would, once the war was over and they were both free.

Snape did not have a chance, she thought. And grinned at him.

But she had a job to do, and then she took the hand Brad was offering her and was seated between him and the young Aurors, engaging the gentlemen in a conversation about the differences in the various wizarding educational establishments and their students as the thestrals pulled them to the train station.

THE END