Summary: Hermione and her friends begin training as Aurors a year after the defeat of Voldemort.

Disclaimer: The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story.

Rating: Starts at G but rapidly spirals into NC-17 and stays there.

Warnings: F/F. Mature themes and content. No graphic depictions of heterosexual sex, and violence is not sexualized, but there are graphic depictions of death, violence, sex, sexual violence, etc. This is a real warning: consent is a central theme, as in situations involving questionable and unquestionable rape. If any of the above is a trigger for you, please do not read this fic.

Dedicated to my old beta, Sashimae, who pulled through for me on this fic too! Her guidance and insights are actually without compare.

Sometimes I wonder whether it would have happened differently if she wasn't so beautiful. Ivory skin, a flawless complexion, piercing blue eyes, and thin lips, with a grim look about her, all framed by perfectly black hair. At first I could barely look her in the eyes at all, although I never admitted that to myself. I stole quick glances at her body, at the subtle curve of her hip, the swell of her breast, the blunt fingers and toned arms. It was only later that I was able to steel myself enough to look her in the eye, and what I saw there was more terrifying than intriguing, although not by much.

Harry mopped his brow, but sweat still dripped off his nose to splatter on the wooden boards below him. He faced a web of knotted ropes, dubiously secure. He blinked his eyes to clear them, grateful for the water-repelling charm on his glasses. He couldn't count the number of times that charm had probably saved his life.

But right now, it wasn't a matter of life and death - only a matter of pass or fail. He gathered his facilities together and dove into the rope maze, his forearms aching as he clung to one rope and then the next. For every rope he had a new curse.

He had almost run out of curses when the ropes parted enough for him to make out a wooden platform similar to the one he'd left behind. Relief made him slide down the rope a few inches, and then he regained his grip and reached for another rope he deemed safe, carefully gripping it with first one hand, and then the other, and finally committing to it with his legs. He heard a snort from below him and steadfastly ignored it, reaching for the platform with one hand, and then elbowing his way onto it.

It was only then that he noticed the leather boots already on the platform, and a sudden rush of adrenaline hastened his roll. He scrambled up, to have the wind knocked out of him by a solid kick to the chest.

His opponent swam into focus, tall and lanky, in his mid-twenties. He had long hair that reminded Harry of Bill's hair, although Harry had never seen Bill's face contorted in such concentration as he attempted to smash somebody's face with his boot.

Harry rolled away again, and as his opponent's foot came down he grabbed it, twisting and pulling it out from under him.

An artificial pop sounded and Harry relaxed.

"That's fine, Mr. Potter," came a voice from below, and Harry got up, sweaty and unexpectedly very grumpy. He jumped off the platform, trusting the Feather Fall charm on the gym's floor to catch his fall.

He bounced off the ground and found his feet. He faced a well-built, very tall and very annoying man who'd boldly kept his given name, Tom. Hermione and Jonah sat on a bench to the side, one looking completely exhausted and the other a little scornful. They had both completed this task before him, and had evidently been allowed to watch him; he now knew where the snort had come from.

Tom spoke with a voice that would have made more sense coming from a pre-pubescent boy. "Your speed completing the other exercises made up for the atrocious performance on the ropes. Congratulations. You've completed the physical section of Auror training."

Harry forced a smile and shook the proffered hand. He turned away quickly, walking to the door. Recognizing Hermione's step behind him, he held the door for her. Jonah stayed behind, probably to speak with Tom about a detail on scoring.

The moment the door closed behind them Hermione turned to him and said, "I wouldn't have stayed to watch but Jonah watched me, too, and I thought if I stayed he wouldn't be so... obnoxious about the ropes. I'm sorry, Harry. Clearly monkey abilities have nothing to do with actually beating Dark Lords."

Harry couldn't help but roll his eyes. "How'd yours go?"

"Alright. I saw my final opponent sooner, but she almost pinned me. Am I ever glad this is over."

They were walking along a long corridor that lead to the mess halls. "D'ya think they'll let us start using our wands again?" Harry said.

"I'm sure they will," Hermione said. "What else could we learn that doesn't involve wands?"

Harry didn't want to think about that, and luckily he was saved from a response by their arrival at the mess hall. It was cavernous, a fact that had led Hermione to observe that presumably there had been more Aurors before the Second Wizarding War. Grasia seemed very lonely now, but Harry could easily imagine the great halls filled with wizarding police. Somehow in his imagination the Aurors were smiling, although he knew precious few Aurors who made smiling a habit. Tonks -

He shook his head to clear it. A year had passed since the Battle of Hogwarts, and he and Hermione had been training for most of it. Harry was not fully committed to the career, especially since he knew exactly what he was getting into. But although he had skipped his final year at Hogwarts and had no interest in returning, he wasn't ready to enter a mundane life working at a shop or even at the Ministry. Maybe he could even be helpful, stopping the rise of the next Dark Lord... and at the very least, he was sure he'd get to travel a bit during the compulsory five-year stint after Auror training.

He definitely knew that he couldn't stand by and let innocent people die simply because he was tired of fighting. And really, what else was he good for, anyway?

"What are you thinking about?" Hermione asked, and he realized that he'd been brooding, walking slowly toward the kitchen.

"Just wondering again why I decided to subject myself to such humiliation," he said glibly. "What was your excuse again? Something about the public good and tackling the greatest challenges you can find?"

Hermione shoved his shoulder lightly. "John-Andrew said that we're likely to be paired directly with mentors now that we've proven ourselves physically competent."

"Who's John-Andrew?"

"One of the Aurors I've been speaking to, you know. The memoirs."

"Right," Harry said, feeling guilty for not paying closer attention to Hermione's pet project. He honestly thought it was a waste of time, gathering the perspectives of Aurors active during Voldemort's second rise to power. Plenty of books had already been written. But he supposed Hermione had to occupy her mind somehow.

"He said they will use the Sorting Hat, but I don't believe it. Don't you remember his song in the first year? He said that he sat around gathering dust all year, that sorting the First Years is his only occupation."

"That's obviously not true," Harry pointed out, wrinkling his nose at the paste that was evidently intended for consumption and picking up a few apples instead. He would get real food for dinner, outside.

Hermione gamely heaped a scoop onto her plate and they moved to a nearby table. "But that doesn't make any sense. The Sorting Hat was made to sort students into houses, not to pair people up."

"Who knows? Maybe it got bored one day and decided to use its mind-reading powers to greater effect. Or maybe it wasn't made to sort Hogwarts houses to begin with."

Near the end of their meal, two small slips of paper drifted from the ceiling which read, "Report to the Great Hall at dusk with robes." And so the pair found themselves standing in their black robes before yet another huge wooden building, this one with stained glass windows that reminded Harry of a church. Jonah was already there, and he gave both of them a haughty look before ignoring them.

Finally Hermione shifted, remarking, "Not like them to be late, is it?"

But still they waited, until Harry noticed a woman walking toward them, a brown bag over her shoulder and her black robes looking ratty even in the distance. Her appearance was striking anyway, midnight black hair contrasting sharply with her skin. She moved with confidence, and Harry was suddenly sure that this woman was the reason they'd been kept waiting.

When she finally arrived, she gave them a wordless nod, and as her eyes met Harry's he felt a cold uneasiness settle in his belly. There was something not quite right about her. It wasn't just the distance in her eyes, or the calm collection with which she held herself. She couldn't have been more than a few years older than them, but she felt... different. She creeped him out.

And then the doors opened and everyone but the newcomer jumped a little, eyes straining to see into the relatively well-lit building. Hermione moved first.

Hermione didn't like being wrong, but there sat the Sorting Hat, self-important and somewhat smug in its decrepit condition. Clearly John-Andrew's memory was not as flawed as she had thought. Assembled around it was a group of about a dozen and a half older Aurors, grumbling and shifting in their seats as they watched her, Harry, Jonah, and the mysterious woman file in.

A young man called Regin beckoned her, and she walked around the chairs to him. He was clearly facilitating, and the older Aurors were giving him resentful looks already. Aurors were not accustomed to being kept waiting.

Regin gave everyone an apologetic look. "Traditionally the Hogwarts Sorting Hat is used to sort Aurors into groups for efficiency purposes, and Headmaster McGonagall has generously allowed us to use it to pair experienced Aurors with those being trained as well. First the hat will familiarize itself with our potential mentors. Then you four will be assigned."

He picked up the hat and gingerly handed it to the first of the assembled Aurors. "Timothy Frome," the man said, sighing and dropping the Hat onto his head. After a moment he nodded and took it off his head, handing it to the man next to him.

Hermione was amused to note that the hat really fit only one of them, a very fat man with a bald head who mumbled "Beabel Noff" as he dropped the hat on his oversized head.

The whole process took about three minutes. The Aurors were clearly impatient. "And now the candidates," Regin said, taking the Hat from the last of them and walking it over to the mysterious dark-haired witch, who said clearly, "Lucy Cunningham."

Hermione remembered the shock she felt as the woman's eyes fell on hers bare minutes before. The Sorting Hat covered Lucy's eyes now, but the tips of her raven-black hair ran seamlessly into her ceremonial black robe, so that it seemed she was all one black pillar, with a tip of ivory skin, luminescent in the witch-light, and the tattered hat perched absurdly on top.

After what seemed an hour, but was probably closer to five minutes, the Sorting Hat croaked, "Deferred." A murmur passed through the Aurors. Lucy - Hermione tripped over the name; it didn't quite fit, somehow - took off the hat, and with a strange, fierce humor that never left her eyes, she passed it to Harry.

Hermione tore her eyes off the witch and just managed to smile encouragingly at Harry before his eyes, too, disappeared. One minute passed, and then two, and Hermione began to wonder with mounting hysteria whether she could handle that much silent waiting under the hat. Then Harry's lips moved, only slightly, like they sometimes did when he slept. This meant to Hermione that the Hat and Harry were communicating, and she relaxed, more comfortable with that idea.

"Mercy Audrey," the Hat announced, and there was some more grumbling and shifting around in seats. Harry took off the Hat and wavered awkwardly, unsuccessfully trying to pick out the person he was assigned to. Regin waved him back, taking the Hat and handing it to Hermione. He was obviously trying to finish as quickly as possible.

Hermione took the hat with shaking hands, wishing Ron was there. Just a glimpse of his carrot head would make her feel more confident, she was sure. "Hermione Granger," she said, squeezing her eyes shut as she put the hat on.

The hat considered for all of ten milliseconds. "Lew Cunningham," it said, with perhaps the most certainty that Hermione had ever heard in its voice.

'That's wrong,' Hermione thought. The strange witch? And how did the Sorting Hat know to use what was obviously a nickname?

"Don't doubt me, dear," the hat said. Hermione removed the hat to blank stares and handed it to Jonah, who eagerly donned it, leaving no time for questions.

He was under the hat for a few minutes, too. "Marco Flores," the hat said finally, and the Aurors stirred again.

Regin took the hat back and stood awkwardly. "Well, I guess this is what we get for going back to the old way." He was obviously out of his element, and did not feel ashamed to show it.

One of the assembled Aurors spoke up. "We can always go back to the usual way," he said.

"Unfortunately not, actually, there's a bit of a complication, you know, the rules..."

Hermione recalled that any Sorting was absolutely final, and realized there was likely some sort of magical contract involved in agreeing to be Sorted. She glanced over at the witch she had been paired with. Lew.

"I mean, I'm sure we can um, chose two of you to help the ladies out on the basics of training..." he drifted off, obviously noting the reluctance on all of their faces. "Or... I'll figure something out. Alright, you're all dismissed, except Flores and Audrey."

There was a pause, then Harry touched her arm, smiled with a mixture of sympathy and excitement, and stepped forward to meet his mentor. Jonah followed, and Lew turned to Regin, asking, "Where should I sleep?" Her voice was surprisingly gruff, and the accent was American.

"Oh, oh, right. Hermione, your room has an extra bed, correct?" Hermione nodded. "Sleep in her cabin for tonight."

Lew turned to Hermione. "Let's quit," she said, nodding with crooked eyebrow at a side door. Hermione followed her, feeling the weight of many eyes on their backs as they escaped.

The rush of air was welcome to her flushed cheeks, and she breathed it in greedily. She opened her eyes to see Lew openly looking at her, and she tore her eyes away from her, glancing around the small rose garden. A church loomed behind Lew. The porous rocks it was constructed of were green with moss, but the gathering dusk turned the green into black.

"So, Hermione Granger. I see your name on the papers every time I pick one up." Her voice was rough, and her eyes narrowed as she spoke. "Must be tough, everyone you meet always thinking they know you better than you know yourself."

Hermione took a few steps and Lew followed her along the path along the side of the clearing. She took in another breath, and then replied, "Well, there are the Muggles. I begin to prefer to meet them - they, at least, treat me like I'm human."

This elicited a subdued grin from Lew. Hermione suddenly remembered her - she'd seen her before - "You used to study in the library here every day last year!"

"I did," Lew confirmed, and after a pause, seemed to realize she should explain. "I took my NEWTS in December. They let me use the library to prepare. I didn't do quite good enough, so I went to Hogwarts for the last half-year and brushed up."

This was familiar territory for Hermione, and she jumped on the new topic. "Did you, by any chance, meet a Ron Weasley there?"

Lew closed her eyes. "Tall, redheaded guy? Yeah, he's Bill's brother, right? I was expecting him to be a bit brighter, but I guess he wasn't so lucky."

A flare of anger rose in Hermione, replacing her excitement. "He's my boyfriend," she informed Lew coldly.

Lew snorted, and with restraint she said, "OK. Well, maybe I was wrong."

The were walking along a dirt pathway aside a row of cabins. It was July, and the grass was mostly green and tiny wildflowers still bloomed, speckles of white against the ground. The valley's surroundings changed every few months - the Aurors called it Moving Day, and Hermione understood that they meant it literally. At this time, Grasia was surrounded by a forest of oak and birch trees.

In the middle of the clearing was a raised dirt mount where Apparation was possible, and somehow at least six pairs of eyes were always on that hill - ten when anyone was standing on it. Aurors were never off duty.

"This one's mine," Hermione turned in at the second-to-last cabin, opening the door and flicking her wand at a lamp. It was a single room, with a boxed-in corner as the "in"-house. One of the beds was immaculately made, with sky-blue sheets and a small stuffed porpoise toy. The other had two bags on it, with clothes and boxers overflowing out of them.

"Sorry, I told him to move these," Hermione muttered, and took the sundry armful and dropped it on her own bed.

"Must have been nice to have your own room, huh?" Lew raised her eyebrows suggestively, and Hermione dropped her eyes, turning away again.

She started stripping off the formal robes, revealing a pink sweater and jeans. She sighed, deciding that a quick confidence might reduce the palpable tension in the room. "Actually, he's been a bear lately. The Council is still deciding whether he'll be let into the training program, and he's worse than a constipated dragonet without a doll."

Lew snorted, the sound jarring. "Of course, he has one, don't he?" Hermione turned to see her taking off her robes too, revealing a white tank top and a brilliantly red scar. A scar that was somehow familiar...

"Your boyfriend?" Lew clarified, looking at her.

"Oh. My. God." Hermione's knees buckled and she sat on her bed. "Are you... when I was thirteen..."

Lew hooked her thumbs on her jeans. "The mysterious American rescuer? I figured you'd get it once you saw my scar."

Hermione kept staring. "Anonymity isn't your privilege," she whispered in shock, trying to connect the streaky bleached, towheaded, overconfident teen of her memory with the somber, pale figure before her. It was a complete transformation, though more believable without the almost iridescent quality the black robes gave her. Hermione wondered if the woman before her had hidden in the brazen youth, or if the youth had only taken on a new guise. They shared only a lean, hardened body and suspicious eyes.

"Sorry, this is just a lot to process," she said.

Lew made a gesture of calming. "Hey, you've got all the time in the world." She looked around, taking the cabin in again, and then said, "Thanks for sharing. I'm gonna go get some air." She dropped her bag.

"Wait," Hermione was focused again. "Before you go - why do you think the Sorting Hat assigned me to you?"

Lew turned from the door. "What, that little glitch? Honestly... I think if you'd put it on first, it would have deferred you, too. The two of us have plenty of experience dealing with the Dark Arts, maybe more than some of those duds we're supposed to be 'assigned' to. I think it's just smarter than the current Council, sees we're all already Aurors."

"What about Harry?"

"I don't know." Lew cocked an eyebrow at her. Hermione waited for her to finish, but she stayed silent.

Finally, Hermione spoke into the silence. "Why weren't you part of the physical training phase? You weren't, were you?"

"I could teach the physical training phase. I skipped it." She turned back toward the door.

"One more thing," said Hermione. Lew turned, unperturbed. "Why didn't you take your NEWTS in America, after 7th year?"

"Didn't like school, myself. Too fucking expensive without socialized schooling or a job... I left when I was fifteen."

Hermione, mind whirring, let her go after that and started packing Ron's bags. Didn't Harry have more Dark Arts experience than she? Was it something else that paired her, rather than Harry, with Lew? What sort of resume did this Lew have, anyway? She couldn't be more than five years older than Hermione, and hadn't been involved in the defeat of Voldemort in any noticeable way. She certainly wasn't at the Battle at Hogwarts. And how could she have gone without instruction for the last two years of schooling, perhaps the most important of all? Hogwarts was free to those who couldn't pay. America had public schools, too... she'd heard that the American Department of Magic had less sway than its English equivalent, but never guessed that extended to schooling. And was Lew's family simply poor, or...

When Lew got back, she was busy paging through her copy of A History of Magic. Professor Binns has skipped over the section on Early Magic in the New World.

The sound of the door opening made her jump. She carefully marked the page she was on and greeted Lew, who grunted and started pulling things out of her bag. After a long silence, Hermione tried again:

"That's a massive scar, there."

Lew stopped and looked at her, icy blue eyes piercing. Hermione's confidence wavered. "It is," Lew replied after a second. "I don't remember when I didn't have it. I got it when I was very small. Chemical burn."

"A misstep?" Hermione asked sympathetically.

"Not a mistake, that much I know," Lew stated, and went back to unpacking.

Hermione decided she'd give her new roommate some space. She walked out, shivering as the cold air hit her. She had no idea where exactly they were, but guessed it was somewhat closer to the equator than London, which was a blessing. The summer nights were warm enough.

She paced the familiar grounds. It was almost last year that she had first come here, and she had rarely left since; the library was extensive, and was connected to the Hogwarts and Ministry of Magic archives. And of course there was Ron, who this summer caught the teapot over at least twice a week. Hermione had to explicitly request that he not come more often. It didn't exactly help his application, and she was exhausted all the time.

She found herself at the library, a great stone structure that was incredibly neat and utterly un-ornate. She drifted among the stacks of books, touching her finger to their spines but not picking up a single one. She stopped at Harry's cabin, but neither he nor Jonah was there, and all their stuff was gone. Hermione was abandoned. Heart heavy but carrying a bit of the library's magic still with her, she opened her cabin's door to find Lew curled under her blankets, already asleep. She undressed quietly and turned out the light.

She pondered the nature of her new roommate, and perhaps her first partner as an Auror. Sometimes quick and brutal, but mostly possessed of a calm that seemed wise without being calculating... Hermione was honestly surprised by her lack of dislike. She sensed that even three years ago, she might have loathed Lew, but today, she was just fascinated by the woman's complexity.

In the moments before sleep took her, Hermione forgave Lew for her quick judgments, in the same thought forgiving herself for her own.