Her

She sat alone at the bar, staring down at the amber liquid swirling around in the glass. Sighing, she drank the last bit. She tipped the glass and looked at the bartender.

Understanding her unspoken request, he walked over, shaking his head and poured her another. "Last call," he said.

I reach for the phone because I can't fight it anymore and I wonder if I ever cross your mind.

For me it happens all the time.

She looked at her watch. It's a quarter after one, I'm all alone and I need you now. I said I wouldn't call but I've lost all control. Another shot of whiskey; I can't stop looking at the door. I wish you'd come sweeping in the way you did before. I'm a little drunk and I need you now.

Him

I recognize your number it's burned into my brain; I felt my heart beat faster every time it rang. Some things never change, that's why I didn't answer.

I bet you're in a bar, listening to music; a glass of firewhiskey in front of you with no one to take you home.

They're probably closing down saying, "No more alcohol."

I don't need to check the message, I know what it says, "I miss you."

It's doesn't mean anything when there is whiskey on your breath. I'm always your last call.

She gulped down the burning liquid and got up to leave. Pulling a galleon out of her purse, she dropped it on the bar as a tip.

"Bye, Eddie," she said and waved at the bartender, watching him for a moment wipe the counter down. She is the last person to leave… again.

He smiled at her. "Bye, Hermione," he replied and went back to cleaning.

She bundled up and stepped out into the blistering wind and snow, walking to her flat instead of Apperating. She checked her sleeve for her wand; she knows it's there, but it's like a security blanket; knowing it's there.

She shivers when she opens the door to her apartment, and pulls off her coat, hanging it up on the peg, by the door. She shakes off both the cold and the snow.

Making her way to the kitchen to fix some tea, as she isn't tired, she hears Crookshanks meow and follow her.

"Hey, Crooksy, Are you hungry?" she asked in her sweetest you're-my-only-friend tone of voice.

The half-kneazle meows in response. He waits patiently for his mistress to open the can of cat food and spoon it into his bowl for him to gobble down.

He can't stand it anymore. He pulled on his coat and walked out the door, leaving his roommates to shake their heads at him.

He walks instead of Apperating. It's cold, but it helps to clear his head. Shortly after he begins walking, the cold starts seeping into his skin, making him shiver; he picked up the pace and pulled his collar up. Her flat is just around the corner.

Why do I keep doing this? He asks himself while he walks. I love her that's why. I've loved her since fourth year, I've just never told her, which makes me an idiot.

She opened the cupboard and pulled out her favorite cup.

She waits for the tea to brew and sits atop the counter, thinking. Why do I always call him? This sucks!

Why don't I just come out and tell him? OH right! It's because he would run, screaming from the room. Besides, we're partners, we can't be lovers too. It's too dangerous.

Only a few things have changed regarding the Golden Trio, since the second wizarding war. Harry defeated Voldemort, but the Trio didn't break up or go their separate ways, in fact, just the opposite, they became Aurors... together. Ron and Hermione are partners and Harry is partnered with Draco Malfoy of all people.

Draco… he turned out to be a great guy, once he was removed from the corrupting attitudes of his father. In fact, he's around Harry, Ron and Hermione so much that the Prophet writes about the 'Fantastic Four' more often than they do about the Golden Trio. The wizards even moved in together, as if just working with each other fourteen hours a day wasn't enough.

Harry, Ron and Draco live together and even tried talking Hermione into living with them, too; however, once she spent the weekend with them in their large flat, she decided it was best if she moved into her own space, if not for her sanity than for theirs.

She couldn't handle the constant disorganization, socks everywhere and the smell of raw maleness. She ended up nagging and scolding them incessantly; it just wouldn't do. Not to mention to torrent of witches camped outside their building and the vocal declarations of passion and undying lust; so she found her own flat and their relationship was happy and healthy because of it.

She could sleep… in relative peace, without worrying if she needed to put up extra strong silencing charms around her room to prevent her from listening to the boys' sexcapades in stereo.

She really didn't know how they all lived like that. She suspected they drew a keen pleasure from trying to 'out do' one another… well Harry and Draco at least; Ron never spoke about his endeavors with women, at least, not around her.

She was right around the corner, in a nice, organized, and clean and sock free household.

She sighed and moved to the bathroom to wash her face.

She looked at herself in the mirror. She was pretty; she was certainly hit on enough to know that she was no ugly duckling. Her hair had calmed on its own and now fell in a wavy curtain down her back. She usually kept it up in a pony tail or a braid, but she liked it down. She had smooth, pale skin and a smattering of freckles that just barely covered her nose and cheeks. Her full lips were a rosy pink often described by her suitors as 'kissable'.

She rolled her eyes. She never dated, most men annoyed her with their vows to protect her and love her forever.

She didn't need protecting; she was one of the best Aurors the Dept. of Magical Law Enforcement had, for Merlins sake!

She eyed the thin white scar, running down the left side of her face. It started near her ear and ran diagonal through the hollow of her cheek, ending at her chin. She usually used a glamour charm if she went out, but for work she left it. It added a bit of ferocity to her small stature and normally nonthreatening persona. Upon seeing that scar, for some reason, criminals were less likely to mess with her.

She remembered the day she received that particular scar... and a few others.

She had been kidnapped by Fenrir Greyback; he beat her to within an inch of her life, and still she fought him. He had gone for a few hours to do Merlin knew what.

She occupied herself with thoughts of heroic measures taken by the Order to rescue her. By the time he returned, she knew someone would come and get her, but even that knowledge was not enough to quell her fear.

When Fenrir finally did come back, she thought she was going to die. He had a strange look in his eye; she realized slowly that her life was not to end at that moment.

No, he approached her with slow deliberation, watching her; his eyes traveling down her lithe body like she was his next meal.

She screamed and backed further into the corner.

That was the worst night of her life, she had been forcibly bedded by Fenrir Greyback and when the cavalry rode in, it was Remus who had been killed by her rapist.

Fenrir was subsequently killed by a well aimed Avada curse from Harry, but she didn't see that, all she saw was Remus fall.

She crawled over to him, in those last moments, as he lay bleeding to death in her arms. She bent her ear to his mouth to hear his last words, "I love you," he whispered and left this world for another.

She sobbed over his body and couldn't be moved. It was at Ron's urging that she let him be cleaned up and given a proper burial.

Remus, she thought. She smiled, remembering how they came to be.

Once they defeated Voldemort, she moved to Grimmauld place while they went through Auror training. Remus was living there with her and Harry. He had moved in after Sirius died.

Somewhere in between the fierce intellectual debates and the quiet library time they shared while reading, they had fallen in love. For eighteen months, they laughed, lived and loved each other with abandon.

His death marked a steep decline in her sense of self worth.

Ron had taken it upon himself to assert his cheerful attitude into her life. She was averse at first, but slowly snapped out of her depression and thoughts of living a solitary life, defending the innocent and punishing the guilty; his smile was contagious.

She smiled at the thought of seeing his bright blue eyes, flaming red hair, usually ruffled in some way, and large calloused hands waving wildly while he spoke of some adventure in which he had engaged.

She had fallen in love for the second time in her young life, this time with her childhood friend.

They had kissed once during the battle with Voldemort, but in her mind it didn't count. It wasn't a 'kiss' per se; it was more of a bump of the lips, so inexperienced she was at the time.

She had only ever had sex with Remus; he was her first and only since his death.

She didn't count the other. After Fenrir was done with her and she was moved from Remus' body the physical pain of being beaten, raped and sleep deprived came flooding into her senses. She shivered, thinking about the physical pain she felt for days afterward. She refused to accept any pain potion to dull the ache, she wanted to remember.

That was four years ago.

She felt dirty and used, still does on occasion. Ron doesn't want someone …tainted. He deserves the purity of love without baggage. She thought miserably, so why do I call him?

Almost there. I need to tell her. He sighed. She had been so different after Remus' death and … well, Fenrir.

His heart broke when he'd found her. Her small body wracked with sobs over Remus' corpse. He realized she had been raped a moment after that, when he took in all the blood. It was covering her bottom half, smeared between her legs and she wasn't able to stand without grimacing in pain.

He had thrown a cloak over her naked form and just hugged her gently, trying to move her over to the Healer, but the little woman wouldn't budge. He snorted. She's stronger than she looks.

Finally he convinced her that they needed to clean Remus up and bury him properly.

She relented.

He carried her to the Healer and watched in horror as the witch ran a diagnostic charm on Hermione to determine the extent of her injuries. She had been raped and sodomized by the evil werewolf, beaten, with several broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder. She had several mean looking scratches running across her face, a few down her back and claw marks on her buttocks.

He had avoided her for a while, but missed her terribly, maybe selfishly, but missed her nonetheless.

He had been watching her since fourth year, jealously hiding his desire to be with her, to hear her laughter at something he said, to feel her presence.

He'd dated Lavender for a short time during sixth year, but she just drove him crazy with her baby talk and nick names – won won. He grunted at the memory. UGH!

He felt her wards softly encompass him and stepped forward to open the door. She always made sure Ron, Harry or Draco could get through without extensive spell breaking and wand waving.

"'Mione?" he called, taking off his coat and hanging it on the peg near the door. He used to drop it on the couch, but after a few hundred times of her huffing and puffing about his slovenly ways, he got the hint and started picking up after himself while he was over at her place.

He smiled, she hadn't heard him. She was sitting on the counter, holding a cup of steaming hot tea, staring off into space.

She was wearing light blue flannel pajamas with white snowflakes on them.

"Mione," he said softly.

She startled and jumped off the counter. She smiled at him, but didn't move. "Ron," she whispered relieved that he came.

"Hey," he whispered.

"Hey," she replied. "Want some tea?" she asked lamely, wanting to end the awkward silence.

He didn't respond, only walked to her with his arms out to embrace her. He knew she just wanted to feel his warmth and the security he offered.

She looked at him with love – it was practically spelled out on her forehead and nodded.

Waving her wand, she put the dishes in the sink and turned the lights out; together they walked to her darkened bedroom.

She slid her pink bunny slippers off, placing them neatly by the bed and unfolded the covers.

She slid inside and waited for him to slip his shoes off.

He laid down next to her, on top of the comforter and wrapped his strong arms around her. He wouldn't stay all night long, he never did; she just didn't want to fall asleep alone on the nights she called him.

They never kissed.

They never had sex.

They never touched in a sexual manner, even though both wanted nothing more than to feel the heat of each other's bodies.

They never spoke about it come the next Monday for work. It was strictly platonic and it was killing Ron.

She woke up the next morning and did what she always did: rolled over and smelled the pillow Ron's head was occupying just hours before. She could smell him so strongly...she inhaled deeply and didn't move for a few moments.

Monday morning rolled around and 'the Fantastic Four' had been summoned by Alastair Moody, Chief of Magical Law Enforcement.

Hermione was the last to arrive, walking into the Chiefs office to find her counterparts, the Chief and the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Miss Granger, how good of you to take time out of your busy schedule," Moody said sarcastically.

"Anything for you, Moody," she said in a seductively sweet and innocent voice while giving him one of her sugary smiles that would charm the coldest heart. Hermione flopped down in the only seat left.

Moody made a soft noise that fit somewhere in between a growl of irritation and a chuckle of flattery.

Her eyes roamed around, looking for something and waited for a moment.

Moody noticed and rolled his one good eye heavenward. "What, Miss Granger?" he snapped, but he loved her and she knew it.

She smirked at him. "No Coffee?" she asked with a completely believable innocent expression on her face.

Ron and Draco snickered and Harry rolled his eyes, too. The Minister coughed to stifle the chuckle and looked at Moody's expression of exasperation.

She lived to annoy the man.

"No, Granger. No coffee; should have thought about that while you were lollygagging in the hallways here," he snapped.

She snorted and remained silent.

"We have a lead on where several rogue Death Eaters are congregating these days, committing every crime known to wizards. We are preparing for an undercover operation sting and we need you four to lead it." Moody paused to let it sink in and then he continued, "We need an insider to work at a place called Bare Witches."

Hermione took all of this in while studying her nails. She looked up after Moody stopped speaking to notice that all five wizards were looking at her.

"Seriously?" she asked annoyed – she was to be the insider. "What about Draco this time?"

Kingsley cleared his throat and answered, "He …ah…doesn't have the right…equipment," he replied nervously.

They had all been witness to the young Aurors temper, during school and during the war; most people thought twice about pissing her off.

They had all known each other for a very long time; Moody and Shacklebolt had known the four since they were fourteen years old – they were now 26 years old.

"Equipment?" she asked puzzled, but only for a second and then narrowed her eyes accusingly. "What type of place is this, exactly?"

Suddenly no one could look her in the eyes. She was getting angrier by the second.

She looked around at the group of silent men. They had abruptly taken a keen interest in either their shoes, the invisible lint on their clothes or the floor; frustrated she hissed, "Spill it or I'm walking out of here."

It was the Minister who finally worked up the courage to speak, "It's a topless bar," he squeaked quietly.

"Pardon?" She asked, hoping she didn't hear him correctly.

He cleared his throat. "A topless bar. We need you to get a job there and find out what you can, identify the patrons and get in good with the other girls."

She just looked at him. "…and how do you propose I do that, Kings?" she asked, using his nickname. "I am Hermione Granger, one-third of the Golden Trio ….SERIOUSLY, KINGS, HOW THE FUCK AM I GOING UNDER COVER?" she yelled the last part and stood up to bring home the point.

Every wizard in the room cringed visibly.

"We thought of that," Moody said quietly. He was feeling a little guilty now as she was the last to know and it would be her arse on the front line, but he had needed to get her colleagues buy in first or he and Kings would be arguing with them, too. The three men were very protective of 'their 'Mione'.

She looked at him with an expression of both rage and curiosity; an expression only the Princess of Gryffindor could pull off successfully.

"A scandal. You'll be fired and charged publicly. We hired the Prophet to write the headline."

She was now way passed rage and heading towards murderous, but she paused, "You…hired?"

They all winced at Moody's slip up. Well the cat was out of the bag now. "Yes, we were planning on you agreeing and we have a press conference in half an hour."

She pulled out her wand and to her surprise, all three fellow Aurors jumped to the aid of Moody.

"WAIT! 'Mione, we need you to focus. It's all a façade; we need to take these wizards down. Innocent families are being destroyed. We have to help and the only way we can do that is if you get in there and make nice with the scum," Harry said in a rush, hoping she would listen to him.

She did, but she didn't like it. She sat back down. "What charges?" she asked.

"Extortion, reckless endangerment of an innocent bystander, and use of an unforgiveable," Moody listed.

"Which unforgiveable and why must you attack my integrity and ethics?" this was important to her; she didn't want to be known as a murderer and hated the idea of being thought of as morally bankrupt.

"Cruciatus Curse and because it's believable; people will like the idea that you have fallen from grace and since you pride yourself on your integrity, well… it's just easy for those, who don't know you, to believe."

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "OK. What now?"

"We arrest you," Draco said with a smirk, pulling out Muggle handcuffs.

She took one look at those and looked back at Moody, who was quietly snickering. "COME ON!" she yelled before they all burst out into laughter.