"So you met only yesterday?"

"Yes, around dinner time."

"And...he was in a towel?"

"I wish I could forget about that detail."

"And he seemed alright yesterday, but he was off today."

"That's exactly what I narrated to you, Ginny. Why are you making me repeat everything?"

"Just reconfirming."

Their conversation died out when they saw Harry approaching them with a wide smile on his face. Harry made his way through the throngs of people in the hall of the Ministry, all of them looked at him with awe and gratefulness written across every feature of their faces. He gave Ginny a sweet peck on her lips, then embraced Hermione in a warm hug.

"You'll be able to find your way, yeah?" Harry asked as he took Ginny's hand.

"Yes, Harry, I'm not a child," Hermione laughed softly.

"Alright then, well leave you to it," Harry said, "if you get lost, send a patronus."

"Shove off Harry," Hermione tried not to smile or laugh and look scary so that Harry would knock it off. Harry and Ginny waved at her, then disappeared in the crowd. 

Hermione took a deep breath. 

Crowded. Too crowded, to many people. People everywhere.

Hermione stood still for a few seconds, only breathing and trying to calm her jittery nerves. It's going to be fine, it's going to be fine. Breathe in, breathe out. Good.

She took her first step. Then her second. Then her third. Soon, she was walking briskly across the floor to the lifts. She got on one of them which looked a little less crowded than the others.

"DMLE, please," Hermione said kindly to the man seated on a stool at the front of the lift. He nodded and smiled back at her. Then they went rattling off.

Hermione, with several other witches and wizards, got off on level two. Not knowing where exactly to go next, she approached a young witch seated at the reception desk.

"Excuse me, sorry for disturbing you, but could you please direct me as to where I have to go for the records section?" Hermione tried for a smile. The witch looked up, and surveyed Hermione through the overloaded mascara and glitter on her eyes.

"You the new recruit?" 

Hermione nodded. Although slightly frazzled, she was grateful that the witch didn't start squealing on seeing her. Most people did that, and frankly, Hermione found it highly annoying. 

"Down the corridor, left at the cross, at the very end." the witch said offhandedly. Hermione muttered her thanks and headed the way she had been pointed in. She counted her steps and concentrated on looking at the floor for want of something to distract her mind. She made it to her destination without tripping or falling or bumping into anyone, which was a relief. 

She turned the golden door knob and walked in. 

It was a large room, with desks lined along the two opposite walls, six on each side. Seven of them were already occupied, and the occupants turned from their chatter to look at Hermione when she walked in. Ignoring their stares and whispers of awe and mockery, Hermione surveyed the remaining tables, and spotted one sporting a plaque with her name on it. She hurriedly made her way over to it.

Her table was the one farthest from the door on the right side of the room. It had a typewriter, several different colored files stacked up haphazardly, a stand full of various kinds of quills, several pots of ink, and some rolls of empty parchment. Hermione took a whiff. She loved the combined smell of the ink and parchment, and she breathed in deeply. It reminded her of being Hogwarts.

"Good morning, Miss Granger."

Hermione snapped out of her blissful sniffing session to look into the face of Kingsley Shacklebolt. To say she was startled on seeing the Minister for Magic was a gross understatement.

"Good morning, Minister," Hermione answered in what she assumed was a calm voice, turning to face him completely. 

"I see you've made your way here by yourself," the tall, dark wizard let out a booming chuckle, "Harry needn't have worried at all, I know you are the smartest of your age."

Hermione flushed a deep crimson at the compliment, but said nothing. She knew all the others in the room were looking at her. And she could not believe that Harry had made the Minister of Magic come to check on her! The nerve of the boy made Hermione want to smack him upside the head.

"I trust you know who your head is?" Kingsley questioned in his deep voice.

"Yes, sir," Hermione nodded, "Miss Clearwater. I met her on the day of the interviews."

"Wonderful," Kingsley boomed, "I'll leave you now, Miss Granger."

He patted Hermione on her shoulder, and thankfully didn't notice the way Hermione winced at the sudden contact. Or he pretended not to notice. 

Hermione sat down on her chair, feeling the stares of her peers drilling holes in the side of her head. Once again, she ignored them. Hopefully they would leave her alone knowing that she had personal ties with the Minister himself, or come up with another crazy story to stay away from her.

Hermione scoffed to herself. She sounded so self absorbed and so like a spoilt brat.

She pulled a file towards herself and took off the note stuck on its cover. It read as such:

These cases haven't been summarised yet. Please pull up a summary of the minutes of the meeting, and be sure to deposit your work at the archives by this Saturday. I am always available in my office, or in one of the courtrooms. Penelope Clearwater.

Hermione stowed the note away in her drawer and opened the file.

She spent her time until lunch covering up and summarising the cases she had been handed. When she got up for lunch, she had gone through four of the files, with six remaining.

Most of her peers had been called and recalled to the trials taking place in the courtrooms. The only people left in the room now were herself, and a witch and a wizard engaged in a deep conversation in which Hermione had no desire to take part. She walked to the door and was about to pull it open, when it was wrenched open from the outside.

"Ah, you'll do," the short balding wizard grinned broadly at Hermione, and grabbed her shoulders, "come along dearie, we need a person from records in court."

Even though all of Hermione's instincts were screaming at her to wrench herself away from this unknown man, she let herself be pulled out of the room. The man released his grip on her. She thought he was unknown, but at the same time he seemed familiar.

"Miss Granger, correct?" he asked as he cheetily walked down the corridor, with a little skip in his step, "my, you've grown!"

"Yes, sir," Hermione answered. She had to walk a fraction faster than usual to keep up with the little but fast steps of the man.

"Dedalus Diggle, honor to meet you," Diggle stuck out his right hand for her, and Hermione shook it gracefully. Now she remembered, Mister Diggle had helped Harry's aunt, uncle and cousin go into hiding. He was dressed in bright purple robes, and a cloak was clasped around his neck. He smiled and greeted everyone they passed. They headed down to the level ten courtrooms.

Hermione knew that of recent, previous Death Eaters and acclaimed supporters of Voldemort had been appealing for retrial after retrial. The courtrooms were nearly always in session, hence the shortage of people from records that had led to Mister Diggle coming up himself to look for someone. The Minister only attended cases that specially demanded his presence or were of extreme importance, while the presiding officer for rest were the senior members of the Wizengamot. 

Mister Diggle stopped at a door a little down the hallway and held it open for Hermione.

"Thank you Mister Diggle," Hermione nodded at him. He bowed lightly in return, then closed the door and was gone.

Hermione turned towards the courtroom. The benches were already mostly occupied by members of the Wizengamot, and people who were there to state for or against the victim. Hermione noticed a spot on the bench below the Wizengamot members that had a typewriter, parchment and quills arranged nearly on it. She made her way to it and sat down. Looking around the people, she saw that Harry was among them, seated on the left section of the room. He hadn't spotted her. Susan Bones smiled kindly down at her from her high seat of the presiding officer. Hermione smiled back.

For some time, there was only murmured chatter throughout the room, during which time Hermione arranged the items in front of her according to herself. She conjured an inkpot and pulled a piece of parchment towards herself, and sat waiting for the court to be in session.

There were two loud taps of the gavel, and the court fell silent when Susan spoke, "This court is now in session. We shall now commence with our proceedings. I request that the appealing witch or wizard be brought into court."

Almost instantly, the door of the courtroom opened.

Narcissa Malfoy walked in, flanked on both sides by aurors with their wands drawn. Narcissa held her head high and walked with poise and dignity and sat down with her back straight in the chair stationed in the centre of the room. 

"Narcissa Malfoy, you are here to request the case of your husband, Lucius Malfoy," Susan said in a stern voice, "you may now proceed with any statements prepared."

"My statement is clear and simple," Narcissa said, gripping the arms of the chair tightly, "I request you to reduce the life sentence of Lucius."

Immediate murmur of disapproval hummed through the gathered crowd. When they showed no signs of shutting up any time soon, Susan tapped her gavel loudly and gave everyone a withering glare.

"And on what ground shall we do that?" Susan asked, not unkindly.

"My husband," Narcissa lifted her chin, "had no choice but to follow what the Dark Lord asked us to do."

"You are saying that it was never his choice to do any of the many terrible things he has done throughout the course of the war?" Susan looked down at the older witch.

"Yes," Narcissa said calmly, "it was either follow the Dark Lord or die, and nobody wants to die. Following him was the only way to survive."

"And what of the fact that muggles and muggle-borns were tortured and killed in your house?" Susan questioned.

"We were forced to accommodate the Dark Lord in our manor," Narcissa's gaze never once wavered when she said this, "the Dark Lord had made Lucius forcefully sign over a bond, making himself head of the household."

Hermione had been scribbling away all this time. Now, Susan turned to her, "Hermione, please draw out the papers of Malfoy manor."

Hermione nodded and immediately set about turning through the large stack of papers in front of her. Not having any luck searching manually, Hermione used her wand to accio the papers with a non verbal. Hermione handed the papers to a clerk, who passed it on to Susan.

"It is indeed true that Voldemort had signed over these papers," Susan said when she had surveyed the papers for several minutes, "I also inform the court that this bond was forged using dark magic, involving runic blood rituals. Is this true, Malfoy?"

"Yes," Narcissa looked very pale, as though reminiscing those memories caused her great pain.

"Very well," Susan handed the papers back to the clerk, "what do you have to say about your son?"

Narcissa's countenance changed terrifically. Her eyes became misty, and her hands trembled faintly. Her lower lip quivered and for a moment, she lost her poise. If it wouldn't have been in court, maybe Hermione would have thought about comforting the older woman. 

"You know as well as everyone else," Narcissa said, "that my son is missing."

"To be clearer," a man of the Wizengamot spoke up, he cleared his throat exaggeratedly, "your son, Draco Lucius Malfoy, disappeared two years previously, a week before his trial after he had destroyed a part of Gringotts bank."

"Thank you, Goldstein," Susan said coldly, "do you have any justification of his behaviour  Mrs. Malfoy?"

"He would never have done that," Narcissa said almost inaudibly. She was so pale Hermione was afraid she was going to pass out.

Without warning, Narcissa Malfoy, the picture of poise and elegance, broke down in front of the whole court. Her sobs rang throughout the room, interspersed by wails full of agony. She covered her face in her hands.

Hermione shared a discreet look with Susan, who nodded her approval. Instantly, Hermione shot out of her seat and headed towards the crying witch. Hermione gently wrapped an arm around the shaking shoulders, and took both of Narcissa's shaking hands in her own.

"Hush now, it's alright," Hermione whispered assuringly to her, "you're going to be fine, okay?"

Narcissa leaned into Hermione's touch and continued sobbing.

Hermione heard some badly hushed mutters of disapproval throughout the members of the court. She didn't care though. Narcissa was having a panic attack, and Hermione knew all too well about those. She wouldn't let anyone she knew face the same problem when she was around. 

"Mrs. Malfoy," Susan spoke when Narcissa had calmed down somewhat, "the court and Wizengamot will look into the matter of your husband and the results will be owled to you. If you have nothing else to say, I shall dismiss the court."

Narcissa sniffed, "I have nothing else to say."

"Court is adjourned," Susan tapped the gavel once, and everyone arose from their seats. Susan gave Hermione a kind and grateful smile, which Hermione returned. 

"Would you like to get some tea later?" Hermione asked Narcissa as the elder witch stood, "Tea's what's helps, especially if it's with honey."

Narcissa looked at her with glistening eyes, and gave Hermione's hand a gentle squeeze, "I'd love to, Miss Granger."

"Great," Hermione smiled, "I get off work in a few minutes, I'll just put my files away and meet you outside."

"Alright, dear," Narcissa nodded, "take your time."

With one last smile, Narcissa swept from the room. 

Hermione walked back to her bench to gather her papers and help the clerk with arranging the files. 

"'Mione?" 

"Hey Harry," Hermione answered without turning around. She decided on not reprimanding him for asking Kingsley to come check on her. He had meant well.

Even though Harry had spoken in favour of Mrs. Malfoy and Draco Malfoy, Hermione knew Harry still had insecurities regarding them. Mrs. Malfoy had been cleared of all charges when Harry had assured the court that she had helped him in the final battle. Draco, however, was to await retrial after be disappeared. 

"That was noble, what you did," Harry spoke, his voice strangely tense.

"Alright," Hermione answered. Only then did she turn around, her papers in hand, "Harry I've told Mrs. Malfoy that I'll meet her for tea, I should get going now."

"Yea, alright," Harry nodded and stepped aside, "be careful 'Mione. We will see you at dinner, right?"

"Of course," Hermione got on her tiptoes and gave Harry a small kiss on his cheek, "I'll be there. Tell Ginny."

Harry nodded. Hermione made her way back to her office, and after putting her files away, she rushed to the main hall.

Mrs. Malfoy was waiting by one of the large columns, clutching her purse and holding her head high, although Hermione noticed how she avoided everyone's gaze. Hermione also noticed that everyone who passed by her turned haughtily away or had the audacity to tut in her direction and give her a disapproving look.

"Hello again, Mrs. Malfoy," Hermione said as she approached her, "do you have any particular place in mind?"

"Actually I do," Mrs. Malfoy nodded eagerly, "it's in Diagon Alley, I hope you wouldn't mind going there."

"Not at all."

They headed to apparition point, then apparated to the Leaky Cauldron. Hermione was welcomed by the inviting smells of all kinds of delicious food, and butterbeer. Hermione followed Mrs. Malfoy to the back, and she noticed the several dirty stares Mrs. Malfoy received. Soon, they were heading down the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley. She spotted Weasley's Wizard Wheezes up ahead, and she felt a tight knot form in her stomach, but chose to ignore the sensation. As long as she stayed away from there she would be fine. Mrs. Malfoy lead Hermione to an elegant patisserie and cafe, and they seated themselves near the shop window.

The sun had just begun to set, so that the sky was a mixture of deep plum, purple, blue and pink, with a few clouds. The shops were turning on their lamps and lights, and as the evening slowly faded into darkness, Diagon Alley became something off of a greeting card.

"Chamomile tea with honey for me, please," Hermione said to a young boy who had come to take their order. The boy fervently scribbled Hermione's order down on his notepad.

"And you, Miss?" he turned to Mrs. Malfoy with a bright smile on his face. His front two teeth were missing, Hermione noticed.

"Lemon tea please," Mrs. Malfoy answered, "add some honey if you can."

The boy traipsed away. The time passed in silence until the tea arrived. When the silence became almost too overbearing, Mrs. Malfoy spoke.

"Thank you, Miss Granger," Mrs. Malfoy spoke abruptly, "I know that… After all me and my family have done and put you through, you must have been apprehensive but that didn't stop you from-"

"I've put it behind me," Hermione shrugged simply, "I know you were helpless at that time, and I don't blame you, not anymore Mrs. Malfoy."

"Please, call me Narcissa," Narcissa said instantly. She took a long sip from her cup. Hermione did the same. Tea with honey had always calmed her down.

"I don't know where Draco is," Narcissa spoke suddenly, her grip on her cup tightening, "I don't know if what they said in the papers, about him destroying Gringotts, is true or not. I don't even- I don't even know if he's still alive." She paused to sniff, "I used to write him letters, you know. Owls always find the people they're meant to find. I write to him every week, and he never answers."

Narcissa shrugged sadly, and brought her cup to her mouth to hide the trembling of her lips. Hermione reached out instinctively to take her hand and comfort her.

"He'll come back to you," Hermione said reassuringly, "he knows how much you love him, he'll come."

Narcissa gave Hermione a watery smile. Hermione gently squeezed her hand. 

"Thank you, Miss Granger."

"It's Hermione, please."

"Hermione, then," Narcissa chuckled softly, "I shall see you again another time, Hermione. This has been lovely, and I thank you for this time. I can't remember the last time I…smiled."

Both women stood and Hermione left a galleon on the table top for the little boy to collect. She let herself be embraced by the older witch for a few brief moments. She didn't pull away, she knew that Narcissa needed this, that she was lonely and desperate for some company and reassurance. Narcissa left with a warm smile on her face, and Hermione thought she saw her wipe a tear away.

Hermione made sure the galleon she left was taken by the boy, then left herself. She apparated to Godric's Hollow, landing on the front steps of Harry and Ginny's house. 

She remembered the time when she had come here, a few months before the battle of Hogwarts, and the disastrous events that followed. A shudder ran through her body as the images of Nagini and Voldemort infiltrated her mind, the memory much too clear for her liking.

She swallowed.

Not now, please, not now.

She took several steadying breaths, and counted backwards from ten as she did so.

When she was calm enough, she raised a hand and knocked on the door. It was opened a few seconds later by Harry.

"'Mione," Harry hugged her, as bone-crushingly as always, and Hermione gave him a kiss on the top of his head.

"Is George here yet?" Hermione asked, relishing the way she was smiling. Harry closed the front door and they started towards the kitchen at the end of the hallway.

"Yea, he arrived a little while before," Harry answered cheerfully, "I've made French toast. Although Ginny thinks it tastes like burnt eggs. You be the judge."

Hermione chuckled. Harry and Ginny were perfect. Meant for each other. Harry was a sweet, caring, sarcastic idiot, Ginny was fierce, nurturing and fiery. They completed each other, like two puzzle pieces.

"Hermione it's so good to see you!"

Hermione felt herself enveloped by the familiar embrace of George Weasley. He had to stoop down to be able to hug her, and she had to go on tiptoes.

"Great to see you too, George," Hermione answered when George had finally released her from his death grip, "how's Angelina?"

"Oi, who told you about Angelina?" George poked Hermione playfully on the back of her head.

"Angelina," Hermione answered calmly, smirking at George's dumbstruck expression.

"Oh, now she's done it," George mocked rage, "wait till I tell Lee Jordan about us, let's see how Angie reacts to that."

"It's Angie, is it?" Ginny said in a teasing, sing-song voice. George's ears turned to the colour of beetroot, as he muttered a few curses and excused himself to go to the loo.

"How is Mrs. Malfoy?" Ginny asked, pulling out some mugs for the tea. Harry immediately took the pot off the stove and helped pour it out.

"She seems very lonely," Hermione shrugged, "I just thought she'd want some company for a while, you know?"

"I never really hated her," Ginny says simply, ignoring the small scowl on Harry's face, "deep dislike? Yes. Would I like to curse her? Absolutely. But I never truly hated her. I hated ferretface and Lucius. What's with their hair? Do they bleach it?"

Hermione only sipped her tea quietly. The rest of the evening passed in exclaiming over Ginny's terrific cooking, teasing George, laughter and a few amicable silences. When it was time to leave, everyone exchanged their goodbyes, and Hermione apparated to her apartment.

It had only been a day, but the scent that the apartment held was already comforting, and felt like a safe haven. It smelled like herself, books, her perfume, food, and, Hermione swallowed, citrus and cologne. Hermione couldn't believe it. She found this combined aroma comforting, even though it smelled like him.

"Granger."

Hermione's hand swiftly reached for her wand, and every muscle of her being tensed. But on noticing the head of curly brown hair on the couch, she relaxed. 

"Bones."

Carson turned around in his place to look at her. Unless Hermione was thoroughly mistaken, there was remorse written all over his face. Hermione paid him no further acknowledgement and headed to the kitchen to drop off the remainder of the French toast Harry had insisted she take with her. As she put the bag on the counter, something caught her eyes on the table.

Six pancakes were stacked on a plate. The stack looked messy, the syrup had been drizzled carelessly, and two of them had burnt undersides. 

Hermione looked up from the table to the couch where Carson was sitting, very dedicatedly avoiding her gaze.

"Did you," Hermione asked slowly, pointing to the stack of pancakes "make these?"

"No, a crane dropped it off at our doorstep," Carson replied, still not looking up. 

"Where can I meet said crane so that I can thank it for leaving these on the table?" Hermione questioned again, feigning innocence. 

Finally, Carson lifted his head.

"You're so annoying, Granger," said Carson. He stood up, and walked in slow steps towards Hermione. He stopped exactly three feet in front of her, "I, uh, apologise for my behavior in the morning. I was in a foul mood."

Hermione felt the smallest of smiles starting to form on her lips. She continued to look at him, and he continued to look away from her. When she didn't answer for seven seconds, he groaned frustratedly.

"Go on, say something," Carson waved his hand at her. Hermione burst out laughing. He looked slightly furious, "what's so funny? Do you know how hard it was to make those without burning myself? Here I am, apologising, and you're laughing."

"I'm sorry," Hermione managed to say between her peals of laughter, "you didn't burn yourself, but you did burn two of the pancakes."

"Sod off, Granger," Carson turned away, but not before Hermione saw him crack a grin.

"I can't have all of these," Hermione said once she had calmed down, "I just ate, I'm very full."

"I never expected you to eat them anyway," Carson grumbled after he blinked at her for a second, beginning to walk away to his bedroom looking crestfallen, "you can toss them in the rubbish bin."

"I meant I want to share them."

Hermione felt herself flush a little when Carson looked at her again. Something about his eyes made Hermione's heart flutter uncomfortably in her chest, while her head felt light and airy. It bothered her to no end, and she knew she had to do something about it before things got messy.

"Alright, we'll share," Carson grinned again, "but you get the two burnt ones."

"You're impossible," Hermione shook her head as Carson pulled out another plate and a bottle of milk, grinning cheekily.