Story based on Agatha Christie's Secret Adversary. I don't own anything, really.

Beta thanks to Maloreiy, any remaining mistakes my own.

Alpha love to JEPierre

Most of this is written and in the process of being revised/beta'd so I'm aiming for weekly updates, real life issues notwithstanding.

Enjoy!

1. Diagon Alley

Hermione Granger pulled the hood of her cloak deeper over her head and tried to shoulder her way through the throng of shoppers in Diagon Alley. She muttered another cooling charm and only just avoided tripping over some small child or other that made a beeline for Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes without regard for the other people in the streets, leaving an irritated cry, muttered curses and shaking fists in his wake.

She'd forgotten how much she hated Diagon Alley on Saturdays. Or rather, she'd forgotten it was a Saturday when she received the notice that a book she'd ordered was now finally available at Flourish & Blotts and had hastily decided to Apparate over to pick it up. Walking out onto Diagon Alley had been a stark reminder of why she usually avoided the place during weekends. Rows upon rows of wizards and witches bobbed along the Alley, weaving from one shop to the next, clustering around display windows and chattering excitedly with friends they hadn't seen for simply ages. To the usual throng of Saturday afternoon shoppers were added the last minute school shoppers - it was the last weekend of August, after all - and those tempted outside by the unnaturally hot and sunny weather. It was mayhem.

Hermione always wore a hooded cloak when she ventured out into the wizarding world, concealing her well-known face from those well-meaning strangers who couldn't stop talking about what she'd done for them during the War, and how they were so happy she and Harry and Ron had defeated the Dark Lord, and could they have an autograph, please? She hated the attention she and her friends still received. All the details of her life were out there for anyone to read. Witch Weekly had announced the separation between Ronald Weasley and herself before they had even had the time to tell their families, devoting several-page spreads to insinuations, rumours and outright lies about the why and how of their break-up. They hadn't treated Harry much better when he had walked away from Ginny a few months before, so Hermione had been somewhat prepared. But it was just scary to have perfect strangers walk up to her and start a conversation about how she deserved much better than Ronald Weasley, or - worse - that she was an idiot to let him go.

Hermione spotted the door to Flourish and Blotts and started elbowing her way towards it, carefully sidestepping an elderly witch who was waving about a walking stick, and ducking to avoid a suddenly outstretched arm.

"And even after all that, she hasn't seen him in weeks," said one witch in a particularly unflattering puce robe with golden hems.

"But he was always such a nice boy, Zach was," said her companion, after giving Hermione a glare for bumping into them.

She muttered a barely-heard apology and finally made it to the door of the bookshop.

Before she could enter, however, someone pulled the door open and stormed out, his shoulder crashing into Hermione with such force that she fell backwards onto the cobblestones. A hastily flung out hand couldn't quite break her fall and the sharp pain that shot through her wrist as she hit the streets made her exclaim in surprise.

The man turned around at the sound, muttered something to himself as he looked up to the sky and then walked up to her.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine, thanks," Hermione snapped through clenched teeth.

"I am sorry. Let me help you up," the man said as he held out a hand. Hermione hesitated, then reached out and grasped his hand, only to let go instantly with a cry of pain. She cradled the wrist to her chest and started looking for her wand with her left hand.

The man kneeled down and held the bruised wrist in his hands. She tried not to notice his long, elegant fingers or the careful way he examined her injured hand.

"What's wrong?"

Hermione looked up at him, an angry explanation on her tongue, but the words flew from her lips as soon as she recognised him. "Theodore Nott?"

He, too, suddenly recognised her half-hidden face. "Hermione Granger."

Hermione couldn't help the shiver that ran down her spine as he said her name in that smooth, warm voice, and then smiled at her with that crooked half-smile she had come to know so well in her last year at Hogwarts.

A slight movement made her wince in pain and a look of contrition passed over his face.

"Come on, let's get you standing again," he said gently, grasping Hermione under the elbows and lifting her to her feet with impressive ease. "Now, what's wrong with your wrist?"

"Sprained, I think. I can fix it, Nott, you can go on your merry way now." She finally managed to take her wand out of her pocket and was about to shoot a spell at her wrist when he placed a hand on hers.

"Let me, Granger. It's the least I can do." He whisked out his own wand and muttered a healing spell that took effect immediately.

Hermione's tense shoulders sagged with relief. She looked up at him and smiled thankfully.

Then they both spoke at the same time.

"What brings you here?"

"Haven't seen you in years."

They laughed. At that moment, Hermione was jostled by a passer-by and almost lost her balance, but Nott reached out and prevented her from falling. He didn't let go but guided her away from the throng of shoppers to a quieter corner.

"So," he began again. "What brings you to Diagon Alley on a day like this?"

"A book I ordered came in today so I thought I'd come and pick it up."

Nott shook his head. "It's very busy at Flourish and Blotts at the moment. School books, you know. You might want to come back in a few hours. There's an important Quidditch match on at three. The place will be deserted by then."

Hermione glanced into the bookshop through the display window and saw he was right. It would take ages to get through that mass of people, find the book she wanted and pay for it. And she'd never manage without being recognised. She licked her lips and glanced out at the people passing them by. Nobody seemed to pay them any attention. "How about we get some ice cream and catch up? I haven't seen you in so long."

Nott hesitated. She could see he wanted to say yes, but something stopped him.

"Fortescue's is just as busy as the rest of the Alley," he said, stalling.

Hermione smiled even brighter. "Then would you mind going somewhere Muggle? They don't have quite the same range of flavours, but I promise you, you won't be disappointed."

"Somewhere Muggle," Nott repeated, almost absentmindedly.

"Yes, surely you aren't afraid of the big bad Muggles?" she teased.

He didn't seem to have heard her. He just blinked, smiled that crooked half-smile that had made her heart skip a beat only moments ago and nodded.

"Sounds like a plan, Granger. Lead the way."

"I'll Apparate us. Hold on." Hermione gripped her wand firmly in her right hand and Nott's grip on her arms tightened a fraction. She closed her eyes, focused on her destination and turned on her heel.

They arrived in a dingy, smelly back alley. Nott looked around dubiously, curling up his nose in distaste as his eyes fell on the dustbins, dirty rags and stray cardboard that littered the ground.

"You can buy ice cream here?"

Hermione laughed at his incredulous tone. She changed her cloak into a sunhat with a wide brim, dusted off her summer dress and sandals and hid her wand in a pocket.

"It's just around the corner. Go on, transfigure your clothes into something Muggle. You can't go out there dressed like that." Her eyes took in his black robe with silver buttons. The cut certainly flattered his figure in a way no Muggle clothing ever flattered a man, but they couldn't be seen like this. Not when it was almost thirty degrees. "Or do you want me to do it?" she asked when he didn't react.

Nott turned away with a blush on his pale cheeks and quickly changed into a loose shirt and shorts.

Hermione walked towards the entry of the alley. "Come on, then," she said over her shoulder. "Let's find some ice-cream."

They had to wait in line for almost twenty minutes, and it was all Hermione could do to prevent Nott from Confunding the Muggles around them and sending them elsewhere so the queue would disappear more quickly. They chatted about nothing in particular while they could be overheard. When it was finally time to order their ice creams, Nott whipped out his bank card to pay before Hermione could protest.

Carrying their treats, they sat down in a small deserted park, enjoying the cool shade of the trees.

"This really is good," Nott admitted after a long silence in which they hastened to lick up as much of the melting ice cream as possible.

Hermione quickly cleaned their sticky hands with a whispered Tergeo before triumphantly saying, "I told you so!"

He shook his head with a soft snort. "You haven't changed a bit, Granger."

Hermione shifted uneasily under his piercing look. She remembered those blue eyes and how they could outstare a cat. Nott was one of the few Slytherins who had come back after the Battle of Hogwarts to complete their last year. There hadn't been many 'Eighth year' students, as they called themselves, and Nott and Tracey Davis were the only Slytherins. There hadn't been any Gryffindors except Hermione, since Harry and Ron opted to go straight into Auror training instead of completing their education. In those first months she had felt so alone.

She and Nott had often been paired up for little projects. Hermione long suspected the teachers had done that only to improve Slytherin-Gryffindor relations, using them as examples. They didn't trust any of the other Eighth Years not to act up against Nott, whose father was a convicted Death Eater.

He had surprised her, though. He was intelligent and could hold up his end of a conversation. He listened to her tirades about house-elves and argued against her black-and-white views of good and evil. He did his half of the work without complaint and to such a high standard she could hardly ever find fault. He regaled her with stories of what happened in the Slytherin common room, one more outrageous than the other, until she wasn't sure if he was telling the truth or just trying to get a reaction from her. It amused her nonetheless.

By the time she went to the Burrow for a subdued first Christmas after the War, she didn't feel so lonely any more. In fact, she looked forward to going back in January and spending more time with him.

They studied together, they worked together and they ate together, and Hermione had been convinced that they would remain good friends after graduation.

But life got in the way.

Hermione secured a job at the Ministry and got swept away by parties, friends and her relationship with Ronald Weasley. Theodore Nott, though by no means forgotten, became one of those people she always intended to owl, but never did.

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment and leaned against the trunk of a large oak tree. "So what happened to you in these past years? I'm sure I haven't seen you since Hogwarts."

Nott shifted more comfortably against the same tree and sighed. "Can't tell you all that much really. I tried to find a job but couldn't get one. I only have to say my name and people shy away. There isn't much out there for the son of a renowned Death Eater, you know. That is to say, nothing much on the safe side of the law. I'm sure I could get involved in any kind of dubious Dark Arts related venture in the blink of an eye but that is not a world I want to have anything to do with." He laughed mirthlessly.

Hermione put a hand on his arm and squeezed. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "I didn't realise there was still so much prejudice. It's been five years."

He shrugged. "It's not like I really need a job, you know. Enough gold in the vaults to keep me going for a few hundred years. But it's quite boring, having nothing much to do. There's only so many times you can read the same books."

"Did you try in the Muggle world?"

"I considered it. But I'd need the Ministry to give me some sort of Muggle credentials, and unfortunately they always seem to mislay my paperwork. So I can't do any studies that might interest me, and I'd rather not be a barista in some café if that means I take away a job from someone who actually needs one. So the Muggle world isn't a solution. I occasionally make potions for one of the shops on Diagon Alley, which spares me from utter boredom, but it's hardly a real job."

Hermione let her eyes sweep across the deserted park. Muggles didn't come here because, even in full daylight, they believed it to be haunted. But Hermione loved the eerie silence and wasn't scared away by the threatening shadows and whispering leaves. It was her favourite place in London.

"A real job isn't all that much better, you know," she observed lightly. "I go to work every day, Monday through Friday, put in the hours, do all the groundwork. . . and see my boss walk off with the praise and congratulations. It's thoroughly frustrating. I work for the Department for Care and Regulation of Magical Creatures. I started there because I wanted to make a difference for those creatures that are so often overlooked."

"Like house-elves?"

Hermione laughed. "Yes. House-elves, werewolves, vampires, merpeople… I hate the air of superiority with which most wizards and witches talk about them, the disdain with which they treat them. And I really thought I was making a difference, but in reality our department is the laughing stock of the Ministry. Nobody thinks to tell us anything. I mean, only last week, I went up to the Auror department to complain about never getting an answer from them, only for them to tell me that it was my own fault, because I was addressing my memos to Zach Smith, and he hadn't been to work for three months at least. Every time I lay the foundations for a new law, my boss gets all the credit. It's so frustrating and to be honest, I'm utterly, thoroughly fed up."

"So why don't you change departments? I'm sure they'd want you anywhere."

"But that's part of the problem!" When Nott looked surprised, she explained. "Of course they want me anywhere. I'm Hermione Granger, part of the Golden Trio, War Heroine, Order of Merlin, First Class. Everyone wants to be able to say they have me working for them. Everyone wants my reputation. Nobody wants me."

"Which might still be better than not being wanted at all, Granger. The Nott name no longer opens any doors, you know, quite the contrary. Only this afternoon they refused to serve me at Flourish and Blotts, and that happens just about every time I go into the Alley these days. The War is far from forgotten, you know. The newspapers don't help, of course, they keep bringing that stuff up when there isn't much else to write about. 'Death Eaters - where are they now?' Never mind they are all in Azkaban, except for Draco. It sells copies so they bring up the whole sorry business, and they never fail to mention me when they talk about my father. 'Never convicted son of Gereon Nott,' they say, implying that though I was never convicted I somehow escaped justice."

Hermione laughed again. "Sounds like we're two sides of the same Galleon." She thought about the break-up between her and Ron smeared out in the tabloids for all to read. People hadn't cared that she was hurting and grieving for a relationship that no longer was, they had lapped up all the details and kept bringing it up whenever they saw her. She hated it.

"Maybe we should both do something to make a change in our lives," Hermione said dreamily. "It's only been five years since the War, but I almost miss the thrill of it these days. Not camping out in cold forests in the middle of winter, but just… the feeling that I was doing something. Something important and exciting and life-changing."

Nott was silent for a long time, but then he let out a laugh. "So maybe we should go on an adventure, Granger. To relieve ourselves from boredom. What do you say?"

Hermione snorted. "An adventure? Write messages in lemon juice and use code names?"

"Lemon juice? What does lemon juice have to do with anything?"

Hermione shrugged. "Muggle thing. You write something in lemon juice, it's invisible, but when you heat it up, you can read it."

Nott shook his head, looking unconvinced. "We don't need lemon juice on our adventure. We have magic. So how about it? Joining me?"

"Sure. Because adventures just happen to people."

He glanced at his watch, sprang up elegantly and held out a hand to help Hermione to her feet.

"That Quidditch match has started by now, we can head back to Diagon Alley. But you do have a point, Miss Granger. Adventures don't just happen. We should go looking for one."

Hermione let herself be pulled to her feet and shook her head with a dismissive smile. "Or we could just advertise in the Prophet," she teased, not quite sure why she was going along with this strange idea.

"Yes, that's brilliant! Why not?"

Hermione couldn't help snorting. "So what would you say, then? Wizard looking for adventure? Enquire below?"

"I'm sure that would create the wrong kind of interest," he said, wriggling his eyebrows and leering suggestively.

Hermione flushed.

"Maybe we put it a little differently. Granger, between us, there's nothing we can't do, no runes we can't read, no curses we can't break. You know it's true." His blue eyes glittered with irresistible enthusiasm. Hermione opened and closed her mouth several times before just shaking her head helplessly and holding out her arm.

"I'll Apparate us both back to the Leaky and we can go to Flourish and Blotts together. Let's see if they still refuse to serve you when I'm there."

Diagon Alley was, indeed, deserted. Everyone seemed to be either clustered to the Wizarding Wireless or out to see the Quidditch match that could decide the championship of this year's league. Hermione walked briskly towards Flourish and Blotts, Nott trailing after her, still babbling about their 'Great Adventure'.

"Wouldn't it be fun, though, to be sent out to some remote corner of the world to retrieve a rare and priceless potion ingredient? Or to save a town from a vampire clan? Or remove the curse from an ancient artefact that has driven all its owners mad…"

"Honestly, Nott, you should be writing books instead of wasting your time being bored. The ideas you come up with." Hermione was getting slightly irritated now they had left the magical seclusion of the little park and returned to the real world. She didn't like to be reminded of how much she was missing out on, how many other things she could be doing, how many other things would never happen to her because she was Hermione Granger and she didn't get embroiled in strange adventures. Not since Harry Potter had left Hogwarts and defeated Voldemort.

She pushed the door open and stepped into the cool bookshop, her heart lifting just from the smell of new and old books, parchment and paper, and the knowledge they contained. Nott stepped in after her. A sales clerk came up to them immediately.

"Miss Granger, what a delight. We haven't seen you in some time. The book you ordered is ready for you, if you'd follow me." He eyed Nott narrowly and bent closer to Hermione. "Is this man bothering you, Miss Granger? We can evict him from the premises, just say the word."

Hermione took a step back, bumping into Nott. She hardly noticed that he didn't even move away. Her eyes were blazing and her hair crackled with fury.

"My friend Mr. Nott is just looking for a book. I thought I'd come with him because I received your notification this morning that my order had arrived. Surely you have no problem with my friend being here? Because if you do, I shall have to take my business elsewhere."

The sales clerk turned bright red and muttered a half-hearted apology. He started walking towards the counter and Hermione followed, still glaring. Nott just grinned at her and went off into one of the aisles to find the books he wanted.

They left the bookshop a little later and stood awkwardly in the near-deserted street.

"Do you think we should do it?" Nott asked, his blue eyes fixed on Hermione.

She blinked, confused, her mind already on the book she had just purchased. "Hmm? What?"

"Advert in the Prophet. 'Highly skilled witch and wizard, looking for adventure. Any jobs considered, pay negotiable. Dangerous missions priority'," he declaimed theatrically.

Hermione sighed. "Fine, we'll be Magical Adventurers, available for any kind of job. I'm not sure what kind of offers you will get with that kind of advert, but we'll see." She glanced at her watch and started. "It's nearly five now! I need to go, I'm meeting Ginny. She's just returned from a tour in North America. Or was it Australia? I'm not sure." She shook her head vigorously as if to make sense of her own thoughts. "It really was lovely to see you again, Nott. Let's stay in touch, this time, shall we?"

She held out her hand and he shook it amiably.

"Of course," he chuckled. "I'm going to find us an adventure to liven up our dreary existence, remember? I'm not going off on my own, you know, Granger. I'll need you by my side. You kept Potter alive through all that horror. I'd feel much better knowing you had my back in any situation."

Hermione laughed and started walking towards the other end of Diagon Alley. She could travel to the Burrow by Floo from George's joke shop. She smiled to herself as she thought of Theodore Nott, walking back into her life after almost five years. She remembered how he had whispered in her ear and how his breath had tickled her neck and she shivered in the hot August sun.

Theo watched Hermione Granger walk away, as he had done five years ago after their graduation. Back then, she had walked to her friends and boyfriend, and he'd never seen or heard from her again. He didn't blame her for forgetting about him so easily. She'd left Hogwarts and gone on to live a life filled with work and friends; he'd returned to an empty Manor with nobody but his house-elf to keep him company.

But now she had stumbled into his life again, and he had just spent one of the most enjoyable afternoons in years in her company. He smiled, already compiling a note in his mind to send her tonight. Maybe she'd agree to dinner. Or was it too soon for dinner? Lunch, then. Not that it mattered to him, he had all the time in the world. He was almost certain she'd accept. Almost.

His eyes followed her until she entered the Weasley joke shop and the closed door obstructed his view.

He was about to Disapparate when someone behind him coughed and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Excuse me."

Theo turned around and came face to face with a tall, bulky blond man with strangely dark eyes. He smoothed his face into a mask of polite disinterest. "May I help you?"

"I happened to overhear some of your conversation with the young lady who just left," the man said, with a toothy smile that reminded Theo of a manticore. "You're looking for a job?"

Theo's mask of polite disinterest morphed into one of polite but wary curiosity and he nodded. The man, who had an American drawl the likes of which Theo had only ever heard in some Muggle movies, smiled even wider. "Then I might have something for you."