Ron/Hermione
Stepping neatly out of the Floo in a practised swish of robes, Hermione palmed her wand and peered around the dim room. Noting no immediate threats, she stepped aside to let the other two Unspeakables come through. Her partner took one look around and, with a grim look in her direction, motioned for their assisting ‘rookie’ to follow him over to a heap of objects flaking with rust—or, more likely, dried blood—that Hermione could feel pulsing in the corner. She adjusted her robes and the heavy amulet and chain that marked her vocation and took a fortifying breath, just barely managing to hold off a sneeze as the musty, dusty air invaded her nose. It really would not do to accidentally sneeze and get some fluid of hers on an object that could prove...unfortunate.
Carefully manoeuvring around the twisting shelves, she made her way to the back rooms, following the initial summons they’d received. Finally passing the doorway, she relaxed ever so slightly. It wasn’t that these rooms were safer, exactly. Her training had her clocking at least seven dangerous artefacts on sight alone, and her newer sensitivity to magic told her that the various shelves, counters, drawers, and cabinets were overflowing with things she would need to be very careful when handling. No, the room itself would have had her on the defensive, save for one object right in the middle of it.
Her husband shot her a tired, relieved smile, which she gladly returned.
It had been a rough couple of weeks, ever since the Aurors had finally gotten permission for the raid. Ron had taken point, organizing a quiet assault team of ten and insisting that the Unspeakables were kept on hand to deal with the likely result of contraband seizure. Long hours were spent making certain all of their t’s were crossed and i’s dotted, so that every aspect could be above reproach. Too many powerful people had dealt with Borgin and Burkes over the years, and it was very likely there would be records and magical signature evidence to implicate them. Having a former (non-corrupt) Auror as Minister was proving to be very useful in actually making the Ministry finally take steps toward real change, and Kingsley had been paving the way for Aurors to crack down on many things his predecessors had either been oblivious to, overlooked as unimportant, or had been bribed into pretending to the former two. He’d been the one to sign the warrant himself, with the kind of smug, eager relish born of being thwarted in carrying out justice in his own time on the force.
Stepping closer to Ron, she took a much keener stock of their surroundings. She knew two Aurors each were standing guard at the two entrances—the front door and the hidden back door into a smaller alleyway. Two more had swiftly brought Mr. Borgin in to the protected cells for questioning, all too aware that there were definitely some who might want to silence him in a rather permanent manner before he could potentially incriminate them. That left four inside, and Hermione frowned at the way two of them were clustered around their other member, who appeared to be sobbing and gently struggling—although she couldn’t quite tell if it was against their hold or to remain standing.
“Please tell me he didn’t touch anything,” she said in lieu of greeting, giving an exasperated sigh to cover her worry.
Ron shook his head quickly. “Nah, had a mild breakdown at a smell.” Hermione thought his idea of a ‘mild’ breakdown was a bit skewed, given the hell she and her boys had gone through in the aftermath. Recovery could be brutal. He must have seen her doubtful look, as he snorted and waved her over to a small, covered cauldron. “I clocked it as soon as I stepped near. Still recognize the smell, even if it’s changed a little over the years.” He shot her a lopsided grin. “Definitely enough to give us preliminary charges until we can catalogue the rest.”
Curious, she stepped a little closer and took a delicate sniff. A matching grin spread across her face. True enough, she recognised it despite the changes too. Freshly mown grass had shifted to the gardenia bushes that grew below the windowsills of their house; new parchment was tinted more with the smell of old books; added in were spiced coffee and the metallic smell of purely distilled magic; and finally, the most telling to her, the smell of Ron’s hair, tinted ever so slightly with the scent of his sweat and favourite aftershave. Her grin melted into a softer smile and Ron sidled up beside her, reaching an arm around her waist to give her hip a quick, gentle squeeze.
He quickly dropped his arm again and resumed professional distance, which would not have caused a pleased little curl of attraction in most people. However, despite her boys’ best efforts over the years, there was still a small part of Hermione that was a stickler for rules. She could tell she’d been caught out by the amused gleam in Ron’s eyes, so she turned with a quiet huff and sought a closer examination of the potions along that same shelf. Magnanimously, she ignored his quiet chuckle at her antics.
“You think this was what caused his breakdown?” she asked in clipped, official tones.
Ron stepped fully back into his role as the Lead Auror on scene. “Yeah. His wife...disappeared during the war. She apparently used to craft her own unique perfume and hair products, and he swore up and down he could smell her, she was here. At first he thought she might have been kept prisoner somehow, then when all he saw was a wall of, er, questionable ingredients, he freaked, thinking that maybe she might have, uh, become part of them.” He winced, then glanced over at his still-shaking colleague.
Hermione grimaced and sighed, nodding her head at the explanation. Terrible, but sadly not impossible. “I’ll make sure to pack that one up first.” She carefully levitated the lid away to do a visual confirmation, nodding at the mother-of-pearl sheen and the spirals of steam.
She drew a shrunken containment package from one of her pockets and set about packing it away, making notes on the label along the outside edge. She spoke aloud as she wrote, making sure Ron would have the information himself. “Small cauldron of Amortentia. Visibly over the amount allowable for licensed study, if he does prove to have something of the sort. Definitely less than a full batch, however, so some of it has potentially be used or—more likely—sold.” She sealed the container, sighing as the smell tapered off and faded away.
She turned to set it aside and saw Ron frowning at her. She tilted her head in inquiry and he made a small, concerned noise in his throat. “Where’s the rest of your team? You should have at least one or two others with you, yeah?”
Understanding dawned, and she reached out to give a quick, reassuring squeeze to a few of his fingers. “Dentley saw a pile of concerning objects covered in what could be blood and took Janus with him to help take samples.” She waved her hand toward the front room, and Ron nodded his acceptance with only a slight roll of his eyes. “We’re not that easily distracted by weird things. Promise.” That got a laugh out of him as he turned to his team and left her to her cataloguing.
She let his voice wash over her as he arranged for a replacement team-member and who could swap them out while keeping mission integrity. Her eyes roamed over the multitude of items, mentally prioritizing what she could identify—or sense, in the case of several items pulsing with unsavoury magic—by a cross of ‘most dangerous’ and ‘most illegal and likely to bring charges.’
It was going to be another long few weeks.
At least, when they got to go home to rest, she could snuggle in next to Ron in the comfy windowseat of their home, curled around a good book. And if she cracked the window to get the scent of gardenia on the warm night air, or occasionally turned her nose into his shoulder to breathe in deeply, well. No one really needed to know except her and her smile. ...And maybe the knowing chuckle and kiss to her head.