Leveraging Hermione

Well here we go again! Enjoy!

***

            Hermione met Eliot Spencer at a party in Boston. She had been on the hunt for Death Eaters, specifically Antonin Dolohov—officially the last one on the loose. She had heard that he had been living in the states and had been for some time, acting the aristocratic muggle. So she went to where the wealth was aparent. True, this last port in her journey wasn’t the richest in her long line of places she checked, but what it had was something perfect for what she needed—long lines of old money and a wizarding connection close enough to make any who needed to hide feel more at ease.

            And so she ended up at rather dressed up and attending a party when she rather have had a quiet drink in front of a fire. She was exhausted from her work and she had very little time for herself. It had been while she was taking a bit of a break that she saw it. Bumps and trades and damn weren’t they just so polished about it as to be nothing below a professional. Interesting, she thought, slipping to her feet as she went over and bumped into the last man that had the message. Tripping slightly, she got the message, apologizing profusely and ended up having to go to the restroom as she managed to collide with the waiter next and managed to get his tray spilt on her, which was oddly enough, very accidental. She went to the restroom, checked out the message, and found out that whomever these people were they were pulling off a scam of some sort that had nothing to do with her hunt. Damn, she thought as she cleaned herself up quickly.

            She stepped out, looking for whom it was that she had taken it from when she was swept up into a dance by a tall muscular man with shaggy brown hair and the most intense blue eyes she had ever seen.

            “Where’s the paper?” he asked her, his soft southern drawl spoke of hot Texas nights and the honeyed tones of the southern United States.

            She slipped closer to him breathing, “Who is to say that it isn’t already in your pocket?”

            “A Brit?”

            “That obvious, is it?” she murmured, enjoying the feel of being in the man’s strong arms.

            “What’s your name?” he asked, his voice rich and husky as he did so.

            Frowning thoughtfully, she inquired, “Would you tell me your real name if I asked it?”

            He studied her a moment. “No.” The man flinched slightly at something coming from his ear. An ear bud? This just gets more and more curious, she thought, and so totally none of her business.

            “Then why pray tell do you think I would tell you mine?” The song ended and she pulled to a stop. Kissing his cheek lightly, as she slipped the paper artfully back into his pocket without anyone being the wiser. “Thank you for this dance. I do believe it’s the only time tonight I’ve enjoyed myself.”

            “No problem, darlin’.”

            Hermione turned and left, feeling his eyes on her like a physical touch. She came away from that meeting with only one firm truth. The man liked her bum.

            Smiling to herself, she went over to the elevator and hit the call button for the lift. As she waited there, she kept thinking about her aching feet and what she wouldn’t give to be able to apperate straight back to the flat she was using while she was in town. But as the saying went, well the saying she had more than bastardized—when with muggles, do as the muggles do.

            As she stood there waiting, a man came slowly over and pressed the button as well despite the fact that it was clear she had already done so. Hermione studied him covertly as he ran his fingers through his sloppy brown curls. There was a certain restlessness about the man and from the smell of him he had definitely enjoyed the scotch offered at the gathering.

            It wasn’t until they were both on the lift did he turn off the elevator and turn to her. Or would have if the elevator hadn’t started back up again.

            Frowning he turned to it and snapped, “What the hell?” He tried again and even roared, “Hardison! What?! What do you mean you can’t stop it? At all?”

            The elevator stopped at the lobby and Hermione slipped past the man, making her way over to the restroom when she heard him rushing up behind her.

            “Whom do you work for?” he called out.

            Stopping she turned to him. Studying him a moment, she smiled and answered rather cryptically,  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Good night.” She slipped into the women’s restroom and disapperated immediately back to her flat.

***

            Nate stood in front of the large screen that held the picture of the mystery woman from the night before. Her chocolate and honeyed tresses were up in a sloppy bun with wisps of the wild curls that refused to be confined caressing her bare shoulders. Her royal blue dress was off the shoulders and stayed true to her every curve. He had been studying the pictures of her from the party from the moment he arrived back at the loft.

            “Still at it?” this came from Eliot, who walked into the room and looked at the picture. “Find out anything?”

            “Nothing,” he muttered. “She apparently doesn’t have any fingerprints and if she does, she managed not to leave a stinking one.” He brought up a close up picture of her. “Do you know her?”

            “No,” he answered, studying the closer image of the woman. “I never met her before.” He tilted his head. “She was bored.” Nate turned to him. “She didn’t want to be there. Something tells me that she was there for work, but hell if I know what that was.” Looking over to Nate, he said, “I think she came across us and thought it might be what she needed.”

            “Why do you say that?” he asked him.

            “She returned the paper in the same shape she got it. If she were working for Piermont, she would have destroyed the note or changed what was on it.”

            Thinking it over, Nate looked back up at the picture studying her amber eyes that managed to be unreadable. “So you think this was just a chance thing?”

            He shrugged. “This is just guessing on my part, but I’m telling you she had the time to do what Jillian Ryle ended up doing to it.”

            Nate nodded slowly. “True. We need to know if she works for Sterling.”

            Thinking this over, Eliot said, “I don’t think she does.”

            “You don’t know that for sure!” Nate replied.

            “No, I don’t, but she’s something no one that works for that bastard is.”

            “What’s that?” he muttered.

            “Honest.”

***

There's the first chapter up. Let me know what you think. Have a great day and please when you can, review!