Agent Cockroach Cluster

To say that Gabrielle Delacour was beautiful was an understatement; she was absolutely stunning. Unlike her older sister Fleur, Hermione noticed that Gabrielle's hair seemed fuller, thicker, and wavier, and her eyes seemed to always sparkle with some hidden and masked emotion. She had a small face, soft in the cheeks and eyes and complimented with a curved little nose. Her lips were full, her teeth were painfully white, and she was slender and willowy as moonlight.

"Enchante! Your name 'as slipped my mind."

"Hermione Granger."

"Ah, of course! Madame Granger, you will sit with me today, no?"

"Actually, Madame Delacour, I'd like to have Hermione's company today," Zach said. To Hermione it seemed like his eyes were bound to Delacour's face, and if it hadn't been for his unusually cordial tone, Hermione would have guessed that he was smitten. "Perhaps tomorrow?"

Delacour let her eyes roam to Zach, imploring and searching, yet still removed from recognizable emotion, then she dropped her gaze back to Hermione. "It seems zat your colleague does not want to share you." She pouted a little and shrugged her shoulders. "Shame. Tomorrow then."

"Nice meeting you, Madame."

Delacour smiled. "The pleasure is all mine." She stepped around Hermione and made to go through the doors, but Zach stopped her with his arm.

"What's on the agenda for today?" he asked. Hermione saw his hand drop something into her robe pocket - a piece of parchment from the looks of it - then he moved his hand to her arm easily, like wind floating over grass.

Delacour tutted and smiled apologetically at Hermione. "Discussion of ze broomstick laws...again! Zis is what 'appens when men take over ze government."

Hermione laughed politely, then watched as Delacour nodded to excuse herself. She felt very hollow in her stomach. Zach was most definitely doing something behind her back, and Hermione was left in the dark. She wondered if she should mention his note, but when he waved a hand in front of her glazed eyes, the impulse passed.

"Ready?" he asked.

Hermione forced a smile and followed his retreating form into the room. She gasped softly when her eyes lit upon the majesty of the room she had just entered. It was like stepping into the Great Hall at Hogwarts again, only this time it was much larger of a space. The ceiling, instead of displaying the current weather conditions, was full of painted illustrations depicting events in history. From where she stood, Hermione could look down into the center of the room, as if she was standing on the rim of a giant bowl. Around the rim were seats for spectators and, as far as she could tell, everyone who was not a member of the Ministry.

Zach lead her to two empty seats, right near the railing overlooking the center of the room. With a quick glance around, he sat down and motioned Hermione to do the same. "Tell me - what do ambassadors do?"

Hermione gave him a look. "What are you on about?" she hissed. "I'm the novice here."

He returned her questioning stare with a cold, hard look. "Exactly."

She opened her mouth to tell him off, but then supposed it wouldn't do any harm to answer his question. "Ambassadors to the French Ministry are responsible for three things; a, to make sure that laws passed by the French Ministry in areas of concern do not overstep the boundaries of the Ambassador's own country's laws; b, to help the International Policy department; and c, to play tour guide if any official from his home country drops into France for a visit."

Zach nodded, looking off to his right.

Hermione shoved his shoulder. "Were you even listening?"

"No."

"Then why did I even bother!"

"I know you know it, Hermione. I was just testing you."

"If I know it, and you know I know it, doesn't that defeat the purpose of a test?"

"Calm down before everyone else knows that you know that I know about your knowing," he said, giving her a silencing look. "Tomorrow you're going to play Delacour's puppy-"

"If you're not even supposed to be in on this assignment, then who are you to tell me what to do?"

"Hermione," Zach snapped, his eyes slitting. "Think about it. Use that pretty little head of yours. I have twice as much experience with this sort of thing. You can hate me all you want, but when it comes down to the line, who else can you trust?"

Hermione crossed her arms, doing her best not to feel like a scolded child. She ran a hand through her hair. "This is just like working with Malfoy."

"I don't even compare to Malfoy, and you know that."

"You were always so mean!" she exploded, twisting her torso to face him and noticing the look a passerby gave her. She quieted herself. "You were always so mean to Harry. Always bringing him down!"

"Someone had to."

"He had the entire Slytherin house helping with that."

Zach laughed, leaning his head over the back of his chair and tangling his fingers over his stomach. He stared at the expansive ceiling. "No, that's where you're wrong. The Slytherins gave him a reason to be mad - he learned to never listen to them. Ignored them, walked passed without moving a hair at their insults. I gave him doubt. Everyone needs some second guessing."

"And who second guessed you?"

He laughed dryly again. "Everyone. Shove up, the Chairman's speaking."

But Hermione's gaze was slow to move away from his closed face, and when her eyes finally focused on the dot that was the Chairman, her mind was no longer on the Ministry session.

*

Hermione's second day, which was supposed to be spent with Delacour, turned out quite differently. Before session started, Delacour approached her and asked that they delay their time together... perhaps lunch soon? Hermione agreed, passively, but cleverly found out where Delacour was going without arousing suspicion.

"Oh - are you speaking on the floor today?"

"No, not at all - today zey are discussing whezer or not to enter into ze Quidditch World Cup."

"Are they considering not entering?" Hermione asked, gleefully imagining Ron's hearing this astounding news.

Delacour's laugh was like chimes. "'Eavens no, zey just use it as an excuse to talk about Quidditch. I actually won't be sitting in on session today."

"Oh? Feeling under the weather?" Hermione asked, making a real effort to look concerned.

She laughed again. "Just a meeting with friends. Au revoir!"

"Au revoir," Hermione said, then slipped into her seat next to Zach. He quirked his eyebrow at her unstoppable grin. "Delacour is off to meet with some friends."

"Really?" Zach asked, clearly surprised. "She told you this?"

"I weaseled it from her," Hermione said, then added, noticing the look on Zach's face, "But I did it in a completely puppy-like way." He chuckled, shaking his head. "This is a great place to start. Is there anyway I can get an attendance sheet of today's meeting?"

"No. Only the Ministry Regulations Committee members have access to the records room."

Hermione sunk in her chair. Her bubble of hope had been popped, and she felt as if she was chasing her tail. "I don't suppose you know anyone who has a key?"

"Actually, now that you mention it . . . ." Zach said, trailing off, a faint grin on his lips. He turned to look at her, paused to search her face, then scratched the light stubble on his jaw. "I'll get you that key. Give me until Friday."

"A week? I don't want you to murder the person, I just need access."

"Don't worry. You'll have access."

"If Mitch finds out you're helping me-"

"He won't find out," Zach interrupted, giving her a pointed look. "And anyway," he continued, averting his attention to the proceedings below them, "I'll just fill his office with Cockroach Clusters and he'll forget about the entire incident."

Hermione, halfway through the morning's session, noticed that Zach's flippant grin from earlier had faded into a troubled look, as if he was trying to work out the hardest of all puzzles. Using the darkness as a cover, Hermione took a moment to observe him. His light brows, barely visible on his skin, were knitted together, and he was thoughtfully nipping at his thumb nail. He happened to glance at her, his blue eyes darting at her in question. Hermione smiled indifferently and looked down, resigning herself to listen to the dull Quidditch drabble. After the morning session had ended, a large part of the crowd crept toward the doors, using ill-conceived excuses to get out of the talk of Quidditch.

"C'mon," Zach grunted, tugging at Hermione's sleeve. "This is bullocks - sorry," he added after a sharp glance from Hermione. He pulled her out of the room and into the corridor. "Look," he said, "that's a half-crack session. Don't waste your time. Go to the library - yeah, they have those in France - and do something productive."

"And you?" Hermione called as he walked off the other way. He stopped and turned, then made to stand right in front of her.

"I have a few things I need to take care of. I'll be back soon."

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked, but Zach just waved over his shoulder at her and disappeared at the end of the hallway where a Mouver ate his Pass Card. She sighed, but then the thought of the library considerably lightened her mood, and soon she had almost forgotten Zach and his mysteries.

*

He looked up at the overcast sky. "It's going to rain," he said dryly, fingering his wand gently in his pocket. Zach glanced down the street and spotted his target, then quickly slid out of view behind a Muggle bus stop. He wasn't sure quite what he was doing, but lately, that seemed to be his motto. Zach rolled his eyes - he didn't know whether Hermione or Mitch should die first.

"On one hand, Mitch is entirely insufferable with his damn Cockroach Clusters," Zach said, peering around the bus stop. His target had disappeared. "On the other, I keep thinking about Hermione's negligee, more specifically, of her in the negligee, and it makes very hard for concentration...."

"Zach?"

He whipped around and came face to face with Gabrielle Delacour. "Target spotted," he muttered.

"Pardon?"

"Rien... nothing. Did you get my note?"

Zach noticed with pleasure that Delacour flushed slightly. "I did. I cannot go to dinner tonight with you, 'owever."

"Walk with me."

"I -" she stumbled over her words, looking over her shoulder. "I should not."

"There are a lot of things I shouldn't do, but I do them anyway." Like talking to yourself, he thought tartly.

"Like chase after me?" Delacour asked innocently, but her eyes were chilly.

"If I remember correctly," Zach said, grinning with the memory, "it was you who snogged the hell out of me a two nights ago."

She reached up and slapped him, and he stumbled back from the force. "I do not snog!"

"Right, you French kiss-"

"You got me drunk! I invited you into my 'ome and you got me drunk! Now," she said, placating herself and smoothing down her hair, "is zis anyway for a gentleman to be'ave?"

Yes, Zach thought, rubbing his sore cheek, and because you were so drunk I couldn't get any information out of you. Zach tutted and produced a bouquet of lilies from his sleeve. "Will you accept my deepest apologies and my invitation?"

Delacour laughed. "When a weezard procures flowers from be'ind 'iz back, a witch is not all zat impressed, you know."

"Dinner? Tomorrow? Seven?"

"Why are you so persistent?" Delacour asked, tilting her head to the side coyly.

Zach flashed her a grin and leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "Because you're the only witch who looks smashing in the Ministry's robes." He drew back, grinned again at her flushing face, then pivoted and walked away, feeling quite smug with himself, despite the slight throbbing sensation from where Delacour's hand had landed on his cheek.

*

The next day Hermione again returned to the library to look up a lead she had spotted, but was dismayed and frustrated when it turned out to be a dead end. She sighed, absently skimming the pages of some ancient text that was not only written entirely in French, but aged so much that it was nearly incomprehensible anyway.

"No luck?" whispered Zach, taking a seat across from her.

Hermione shook her head. "None. Everything either winds itself in a complete circle or goes no where. Look. I thought maybe that Monsieur Jean Luc Nouveau - you know, the large man who always smokes cigars during session - well I thought that maybe he was involved, because he's been making many trips in and out of the Ministry. I only know this because I sat outside for an hour yesterday in the afternoon and watched him come back and forth four times."

"And?"

"Turns out he has a stiff leg, and he's actually a rabid fan of Quidditch. According to this book," Hermione said, pulling a newer book from the chair next to her entitled Broken and Dismantled; Where are the Quidditch Heroes of Yesterday?, "Nouveau played Quidditch when he was younger. Today I was informed that he was the first to vote for France's application into the Quidditch World Cup yesterday."

"So then he was in session?"

"Yes, mostly, except for the times he took a walk."

"Maybe he was meeting his mistress who is, in fact, a banshee," Zach said, raising an eyebrow conspiringly.

"Does everyone sleep with a banshee to you?"

"Yes, even I'm sleeping with a banshee." Hermione stared at him. He shook his head and rubbed his temples. "Never mind. You want some dinner?"

"What time is it - oh, didn't even realize it was already six-thirty!" Hermione snapped her books closed and quickly began to place them back where they belonged. Zach followed her.

"Well have a nice dinner. I won't be joining you."

"What? Why not?" Hermione asked, hoping she didn't sound like a schoolgirl. Honestly, it didn't matter to her whether or not Zach had dinner with her. She was just severely concerned with his affairs as of late - perhaps more so with the fact that she didn't actually understand what was going on.

"Mmm," he said, pushing two books aside to peer at her through the bookshelf. "Aren't you the jealous lover?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Fine. None of my concern. Point taken. Go sleep with your banshee."

"I'll take you up on that offer. Night."

Hermione shook her head and shoved the last volume back into its place. "You're so insufferable, you know that? I think one day I'll get my revenge on you and get my friend Ginny to Bat-Bogey your nose off your face and - Zach?"

There was a silence. Hermione slumped against the bookshelf and knocked her head against the frame, a wane smile forming at her lips. She took a deep breath to settle herself, then when she opened her eyes she discovered that her only appetite was for a quill and ink and a long letter back home.

*

Ginny -

Can't you spare some time and come and visit? Honestly, things are so strange here. It seems like I have no idea what is going on right under my nose. And, if Zach makes one more of his sarcastic comments, he's going to get a smack upside his head. I haven't had time to go out shopping yet (imagine that - no shopping in one of the best places to do so in the entire continent of Europe), but I'll keep my eye out if something pretty and chic drops down from the mundane heads of Ministry employees.

I suppose you want to know everything about what I'm doing, but the sad part is I can't speak a word about it, because not only would I soon be unemployed, but I don't have anything to tell! Don't tell Ron or Harry this, but I can't find anything useful in the library, either. Maybe I'm just not looking hard enough.

One thing you can tell Harry and Ron - for the past two days the French Ministry has been debating whether or not to enter into the Quidditch World Cup. Rest assured, they have entered. Gabrielle Delacour (yes, as in Fleur's little sister whom Harry rescued from the lake) said that the only reason they have sessions on it is for all the men of the Ministry to debate the finer points of a Snitch and broomstick.

-sending my love,
Hermione
(PS - let me know if there's any chance of your coming down here! The weather's lovely!)

*

"Merci."

"For what?" Zach asked, rubbing his thumb across the top of her hand.

"Ze lovely evening. Dinner. Your company."

"The pleasure's mine," he said, gently kissing the top of her head. "Where are you taking me?" he asked impishly. "If I remember correctly, the Ministry is the other way."

"Do you believe zat I live my entire life in ze Ministry?" she asked softly, her eyes sparkling in the streetlight. "Zere's no room for fun zere."

"Ahh," Zach replied. "They don't have Gobstones there, do they?"

She poked him in the ribs. "You're not funny."

"No? Pity - I though I was."

Delacour led him through a wrought-iron gate and up the old and worn stairs. Her house, just like her person, was immaculate and fanciful. Zach peered around through the dim lights at the intricate marble work on the stairs and floor. "How did you get ahold of this place?"

"My father's," she said, throwing down her handbag into the bathroom and taking off her robes as she made her way to some sort of parlor. "'E left ze entire 'ouse to me in 'iz will. Fleur got ze 'ouse we used for ze 'olidays." Zach followed her into the parlor and watched as she removed her shoes and let her hair fall from the top of her head. He made his way to her.

"Would you like something? Tea? Coffee?"

"You," he breathed onto her neck, having closed the distance in record time. He wound his hand around her slim waist and used the other to pull her hair away from her neck. He kissed her porcelain skin and worked his hands over the thin material of her blouse. Banshee, he thought bitterly, trying not to think about what horrific things her skin had witnessed.

"Zach...." Delacour spun around in his arms, and for the first time, Zach could see through her guarded face, her masked eyes. And there, right before him, lay nothing but pure adoration and lust. Without hesitation, for there was no time for it, Zach kissed her fully on the lips and helped her to the floor, not breaking his contact.

I've seduced a bloody banshee.

Many hours later, when dawn was climbing with tender fingers over the horizon, Zach still lay next to Delacour, awake and extremely cold. He turned his head to look at her; yes, she was beautiful, but almost too much for him. It was like a christmas ornament that had turned gaudy underneath layers of glittery dust and color. Carefully, as not to wake her, Zach climbed from the blanket and threw on the robes he had discarded earlier. He padded out of the parlor and toward the bathroom, where he quietly shut the door completely and turned on the light.

In the corner sat her ivory-colored handbag. Zach knelt next to it and peered inside. He could see the metallic glint of keys. "Accio keys," he whispered, pointing his wand at the handbag. A ring with five keys flew from the bag and he caught it easily. He inspected every one until he came upon the last, which was old and ornate and clearly marked with the Ministry's label.

Keys, of course, could not be magically copied without a locksmith due to the wards and charms placed on them. Instead, Zach conjured an exact, non-working replica. He removed the original key from the chain, tucked it in his robe pocket, then put the fake on the ring. He placed the keys in the exact spot they had been, extinguished the light, and returned to the parlor. Quickly he began to dress, searching for his missing clothes throughout the room.

"Zach?"

He bolted upright, grabbing his sock from under the couch. "Hmm?"

"Where are you going?"

"I have some things to do before session this morning."

"Forget ze session," she said, sitting up with the sheet around her torso. Her hair spilled onto her face and shoulders. "Stay with me."

Zach grinned apologetically. "Another night - I'll see you soon?"

Delacour pouted, leaning forward so that the sheet fell dangerously low. "I suppose. . . ."

"Good," he said, walking to give her a quick kiss. Once outside, he inhaled the brisk fall morning, shutting his eyes. He wished it was possible to Obliviate one's own memory, but Zach figured that it wouldn't turn out too well. He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair and began the trek back toward the Ministry, the key hitting against his thigh with each step.

*

"Morning sunshine!"

Hermione groaned and pulled the covers over her head. She mumbled something incomprehensible, kicking the stifling sheet down to the bottom of her bed and tucking her knees into her chest. Someone was shaking the entire bed, jumping up and down obnoxiously on the edge. Hermione told herself sleepily that she should just ignore it, but as soon as the intrusion started to sing, Hermione jack-knifed and threw her pillow at him.

"Ow - hey, that was uncalled for," Zach said, flopping backwards onto the bed. Luckily, Hermione's legs were still drawn up to her body and out of his way. "You're usually not this agitated in the mornings."

"What time is it?" Hermione asked, knowing she was being a bit ridiculous; she had to get up eventually.

"Six," came the sweet reply.

"I have had three hours of sleep so far. I was up late," she said, pausing to yawn, "reading."

"Oh," Zach said, sounding distinctly disappointed. "And here I thought you put that scandalous sleepwear of yours to good use."

"Off," Hermione said, tactfully kicking her legs out and pushing him towards the end of the bed. "Get off, off!"

Since she heard no sound of pain, Hermione guessed that Zach had stood up before he had a rendez-vous with the carpet. Deciding that a good, cold shower would wake her up, Hermione pulled herself out of the covers and made for the bathroom. She turned on the faucet and rubbed the face that was staring bleakly out from the mirror. Someone knocked on the front door and Hermione was aware of Zach's voice among two others.

"Hermione!" he yelled, upsetting her as she was just about to step into the shower. She tripped slightly over the bath rug and gasped at the though of Zach bringing two strangers into the bathroom while she stood there completely naked. Though why Zach would open the door on her was beyond her in the first place.

"Yes?" she asked, faking a pleasant voice while turning off the water and grabbing her bathrobe.

"You have guests."

"Honestly," Hermione said, quickly tying the robe around her waist. "Who comes knocking on doors this early? What indecency-"

She was stopped suddenly, mid-rant, by the sight of three familiar faces beaming at her. And, in the most Hermione-like manner, she shrieked with delight and ran, engulfing Ginny in a enormous hug. "Ginny! Oh - oh what are you doing here? Not that I'm not pleased to see you - of course I am - but it's just so unexpected....!"

"You've been gone barely a week and you miss us already?" Ron asked, standing tall beside Ginny. Hermione hugged him too, but hugging Ron was like hugging a giant tree; he was as tall and responsive as one. Hermione turned to Harry, who was standing aside, watching Hermione move about. She hugged him and was pleased when he, unlike Ron, returned the embrace.

"I'll just be going to take a shower, if you'd excuse me," Zach said, ignoring Hermione's protestations and claims that she had rights to the shower. He walked past, juggled his eyebrows up and down at Hermione, then immediately turned on the water. Hermione wondered if it was his subtle way of giving them privacy.

"You share a room with him?" Ginny cried. Judging by her face, she was completely enthused with thoughts of Zach barely-clad.

"You share a room with him?" Ron asked as if the word 'him' corresponded to a giant leech. "But . . . but . . . he's a man."

Hermione couldn't help but laughing along with the rest of them. "He is," she said, "but he also happens to be my colleague on this mission, which, by the way, I am forbidden to speak about, so don't even try to get it out of me."

"We all know how good Ron was at that during fourth year," Harry said, grinning from behind his glasses. "'Hermione pass the toast who are you going to the Yule Ball with?'"

Ron smacked him in the stomach, but was grinning nonetheless. "Seriously Hermione. He's not being wretched, is he?"

Hermione smiled wryly. "Only the normal, Ron. Don't worry. How long are you guys staying? And where, for that matter? Surely not in the Ministry-"

"We're staying until the end of the weekend at a Muggle bed and breakfast."

"Oh," Hermione said, feeling crestfallen. Just their arrival had succeeded to remove her mind from the never-ending carousel she was riding. "You can't stay longer?"

"'Fraid not, Hermione," Harry said, almost apologetically. "We all have to go to work, too."

"Have you had breakfast? You ought to eat something, at the least," Hermione said, wringing her hands. She was inexplicably nervous, as if the past week had somehow changed her and she was no longer the same person, even though she knew she was being ridiculous.

"Not yet," Ginny said.

"We, er, dunno where to go," Harry added sheepishly.

Hermione laughed and instructed them how to use their Pass Cards (which she found out were temporary and expired after their visit ended). She told them that they could all meet for dinner and they wholeheartedly agreed. Ginny straggled a bit on leaving, perhaps hoping to get a glimpse of Zach in only his towel, but was sorely and visibly disappointed when he came out fully clothed. She departed immediately and left the two alone.

"Well that was nice, wasn't it," Zach said, running a hand through his wet hair. "A little pow-wow with your friends, telling them all the juicy secrets of this project."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, outraged. "If you think," she said murderously, "that I'm taking this entire thing lightly, think again. Not only is the safety of a large amount of people resting on our arrest of Delacour, but also this is what I've been assigned to do and I'm going to do it."

Zach laughed. "How very Gryffindor of you. But Gryffindors were always very trusting-"

"And Hufflepuffs were supposed to be loyal."

Zach glared at her, and she stared back, determined not to back down. Finally he dropped his steely eyes and began rummaging through some of his dirty clothes. Hermione stood, a hand on her hip and still not showered, waiting for him to say something. The silence got to be too much and she blurted, "Aren't you going to retaliate?"

Zach did not even look at her. "We're being counterproductive by doing this," he said, almost chastising Hermione for her need to argue with him. "Besides," he added, standing up and walking toward her, grinning. "You can't hate me once I've given you this."

Sparkling in the light before her was a key, large and old, with the Ministry's design clearly engraved on it. Hermione's eyes widened, and although she was secretly guilty about it, she felt as if she could have given him the biggest hug right at that second. And his charming grin was doing nothing to make her think twice about it-

"Ooof!"