Chapter 1– One Last Job

Kathryn Leblanc checked herself one last time in the mirror. Her hair had been transformed from its usual rich brown to a dead black bob. Her eyes, chocolate this morning, were a muddy washed out blue now. The layers of grime, filth and makeup she had artfully applied further altered her appearance and by stooping her shoulders, snapping her gum and tilting her hips, she now looked like the lowliest guttersnipe ever born to thieve and starve. It was perfect, she decided.

Shrugging on a tattered coat and wrapping an unraveling knitted scarf around her neck, she stepped out of the dingy public bathroom and slouched her wary way across the deserted park, headed for the red light district. It was too hot in the coat, but she needed the extra bulk to hide her figure from prying eyes. Her curves were rounded and lush, too attractive for this part of town.

A sullen and unfriendly expression plastered on her face, she found a sheltered spot across from a triple x theatre in a dingy alleyway. The night hid her movements and the evening breezes were blowing the sodden heat of the humid afternoon away.

The marquee, plastered with "Beauxbatons Babes 3," a title meant to titillate and amuse, left her cold. She huddled out of sight of the street, waiting with the patience of a predator.

The street was old; the cobblestones had been partly paved over for modern traffic, but the buildings were bent old crones, leaning together for stability, creaking and groaning as they gossiped against the darkening sky. It was a neighborhood that had once been genteel, now fallen on hard times.

For the last three weeks, she had been staking out this same spot. The locals knew better than to cross her now and it was vacant each time she arrived. Her knife had convinced them to be cautious of her and killing the pimp who had tried to 'recruit' her had convinced them she was both crazy and dangerous. They left her alone now and that suited her perfectly.

A movement caught her eye -- the subtle blurring of a Disillusionment Charm -- and Kathryn smiled, all shark and without an ounce of compassion. She drew her wand and edged closer to the corner of the building. The alley was deeply shadowed and her approach was invisible.

With the darting speed of a cobra, she wrapped an arm around her quarry and dragged him into the alley. She stunned him with a whispered spell and drew her knife.

Fifteen minutes later, she was gone, slinking away across town; no trace of blood or body would ever be found, just another old man gone missing. Kathryn smiled again, feeling the cooling breezes whistling through the streets of Boston. Sometimes the direct approach to fighting evil was simply more satisfying.

The MSA was headquartered in the basement of a software company. The Muggles upstairs had no idea that far below their cubicles and computers an entire world was hidden. Kathryn apparated into the antechamber and allowed herself to be scanned and searched by the goblins on watch. They handed her wand back to her after checking her clearance, a process they went through with due diligence despite having known her for twenty years. Kathryn, unlike others, never complained about the process; she had been here when the polyjuiced assassin had tried to get in.

Once released from the security station, she strode down the corridor to the Concealment lab. Terry greeted her with a broad smile and a few deft wand waves later she looked like herself again. She stepped into the changing booth and stripped off the dirty clothing. A few cleansing charms and she smelled as much better as she now looked.

She dressed quickly, knowing that she had reports to file even if her spotter would have gotten back hours before she had and told Madam Chanel the results of the mission. She had had to take the time to dispose of the corpse and clean the area thoroughly. She had also had to make sure there was no one following her as she returned to HQ. Time-consuming but ultimately necessary.

She had barely made it to her desk when the memo fluttered up to her. She grabbed it from the air and sighed. The Old Lady wanted to see her immediately. She nodded to her co-workers who waved or nodded back before returning to their work; no slackers were allowed in the MSA and the sheer dedication could be frightening to see.

Kathryn paused to twist her brown hair up into a knot and made sure that all traces of dirt and make-up were gone. With the gray robes of a government employee draped over her shoulders, she strode to answer her boss' summons.

Striding through the wood paneled hallways with their magical light fixtures casting a steady glow on the dark carpeting, Kathryn contemplated her feelings. They had undergone a surprising transformation over the last year.

There was a time when she would have felt a thrill of pleasure to be so called, but lately everything seemed as muted and gray as her robes. Her nights were filled with tossing and turning and her days were too long and too empty. She knew what the problem was; there was simply nothing she could do about it. She put her head down and endured, she did her job and she took each day one moment at a time, but much of the joy had gone out of it for her.

She tried hard not to think about Him. Sometimes she was successful, but most of the time, she failed. He crept into her mind at the oddest times. She would think of Him when she watched someone drink their morning coffee, or when she had to go talk to the Potions researchers in the basement. At night, it was the worst; she would crawl into her empty bed to sleep and wake to find her hands reaching for something that wasn't there anymore. She cried in the shower, thinking of His hands, His lips and the way His eyes would go absolutely black with passion.

She shut down that line of thought and knocked on Madam Chanel's door. A click and the door swung open of its own accord, a neat trick that intimidated most of the younger agents. Kathryn had long since become immune to it, even before Him. Damn it; stop thinking about that, she scolded herself.

The Old Lady's office was spotless, of course; all understated office furniture, with delicate ornamentation. The walls were paneled in rosewood to match the furniture and the floors were carpeted in plush burgundy pile. The paintings and photos tastefully framed on the wall, including the portrait of Madam Chanel's predecessor, the hawk-faced Captain Fielding, stared down at Kathryn with a look of sympathy, and she wondered what pile of shit she had to clean up next.

"Sit down, Kathryn." Uh-oh, when the Old Lady used her first name, she knew it was serious. "First, let me say that the job you did on 'the Wolf' was clean and professional, I am pleased." Kathryn relaxed slightly.

The old man had been cautious; it had taken months to tie him firmly to Voldemort and months more to prove he was heading Death Eater activity in America. When Kathryn had been injured, she had been unable to follow up on her surveillance of him, but had kept abreast of every tidbit of information she could wring from other agents' field reports.

Finding out that he was the linchpin of Voldemort's American operation had come as a joyful surprise early in the summer; since then, she had been crawling around through computer files, physical records, and reports trying to find a pattern by which to kill him.

His removal set Voldemort back years and left the American operation headless and confused.

"Thank you, Madam Chanel." Still, Kathryn knew that the reward for a job well done was another job. So, she waited.

"Your next assignment will be rather difficult." Madam Chanel hesitated and Kathryn looked at the older woman in surprise. The large hooked nose and broad brow that proclaimed Flora Chanel's Mayan heritage, the black eyes so intense and focused, were as familiar to Kathryn as her own features in the mirror. She was stunned, therefore, to see a look of indecision crossing a face that had always looked so sure. "I am sending you back to England," the Old Lady got out finally.

She couldn't help it, Kathryn's heart leapt in joy. His face, His voice rushed into her mind and she kept herself still by sheer willpower.

"Indeed, Madam?" Kathryn's voice was slightly breathless and Madam Chanel relaxed back into her chair, suddenly seeming relieved.

"I am releasing you, Kathryn." Shock kept her silent in the face of that statement. She stared at the older woman, seeing for the first time the lines of age and worry that had etched themselves into her flesh. Kathryn was speechless; she had never imagined that this day would come to her, not so soon.

"I'm sorry?" Kathryn needed confirmation.

"I'm releasing you to Albus Dumbledore and The Order of the Phoenix." Those words dropped into Kathryn's mind like stones. She was halfway out of her chair in fury and pain before she got control of herself and sank back stiffly. She was being sent away not to freedom, but to be bound to someone else's service. She was being handed over to another master.

"Has my service been so poor?" She asked bitterly. The Old Lady winced and looked down at her hands.

"No, others' needs were greater than mine." Madam Chanel looked up at Kathryn and there was honest regret in her eyes. "You know the prophecy, Kathryn." Leaning back into her chair, Kathryn let her analyst's mind turn the thought around and around, fitting it into the larger puzzle. When the last piece clicked into place she turned back to her erstwhile boss.

"You are sending me back to make sure Harry survives long enough to defeat Voldemort." There was thoughtfulness in her words now, instead of the bitter feeling of betrayal. She was still angry; she knew her value and she doubted that anything Albus could trade for her would be equal to her loss to the MSA.

"Yes. I also want to be certain that the Order has some support." In response to the soft-spoken words, Kathryn's eyebrow arched in an expression that she had picked up from Him. She knew that the Order was filled with people both loyal and dedicated, but that it also had no one with her background and experience.

"You think the final battle will take place in England, against the Order." The Old Lady nodded and Kathryn sighed.

"What's my cover?" She asked wearily.

"Defense teacher at Hogwarts." Kathryn's heart skipped a beat and she couldn't keep the tiny smile from her face.

"Thank you." It was all clear now and the last of her anger drained away. Albus had pleaded for her to return and Flora Chanel had figured out how to sell it to the Council. She was being given a gift by the older woman and whatever else she had to do while there, she was most certainly being sent home to Severus.

"Don't thank me, you will have to go back to the tightrope and you will be a full member of the Order. Plus, I will be sending work your way; you are still my best analyst." Kathryn nodded her understanding, but her heart was light for the first time in over two months.

It was August and she could be in England in a few days, in the bed of her beloved. There was nothing that could dampen her joy at that, even the knowledge that her leash was being handed over to someone else.

"I serve, Madam." She rose as she was dismissed, the motto of the MSA coming to her lips as both thanks and promise. Madam Chanel nodded and Kathryn left to go clean out her desk.