Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Clearly.

A/N: This story is non-DH and (mostly) non-HBP compliant. Reviews are appreciated. Please no flames.

Chapter One

They'd known each other since childhood but now, only a year after they finished Hogwarts, it suddenly seemed as if there were a great distance between Hermione and Ron, though only she was aware of it.

Sitting across from one another at an outdoor café in Diagon Alley, Hermione tried to ignore the awkward silence between them as she appreciated the beautiful summer day. Ginny's leaving ceremony had brought them all together for the first non-Order related time in months, and Hermione's loneliness had briefly been broken as the Golden Trio was reunited once again. Harry and Ron had changed dramatically since the end of their seventh year, and with the searing war and the hard-knock Auror training they were going through, neither had time to write more than a hurried letter or even to pay a quick visit to the third member of their little clan.

This was made especially difficult with Hermione and Ron's continued pursuance of their ongoing relationship, though Hermione was becoming distinctly aware of the fact that what once had been an overwhelming and broiling passion between them was now a faint simmer. And though she had suggested they take a break more than once, in order to pursue their own careers, Ron had desperately clung to the only stable person in his life and remained amazingly blind to the staleness of their relationship. His lack of insight was beginning to annoy her.

"I forgot to tell you, Ginny sent me an owl the other day," he finally said, looking up from the cup of tea he'd been staring into as if seeking answers for the past few minutes.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her seat, regretting her decision to wear a thin, romantic dress that she hadn't even been complimented on. She could feel every inch of the black metal patio chair beneath her bum and it was starting to go numb.

"Oh, and how is she?"

"She's doing well. She's in Asia studying the properties of the heartstring of a Chinese Fireball," he replied, brightening up considerably now that they were conversing.

Hermione had been more than envious when Ginny received a letter from Mr. Ollivander himself, requesting that Ginny accompany him as an apprentice on a tour of the world. Apparently Horace Slughorn had been talking about Ginny's bravery and knack for charms and impressed the wandmaker enough to want to pass down his art to her. Hermione would give anything to have that apprenticeship. Working under Percy Weasley in the Department of International Magical Cooperation was becoming more and more torturous as the months went on.

"That's wonderful. I'm very happy for her," Hermione tried to sound genuine, but couldn't help the tinge of sadness to her voice. She missed her devilish little red-headed friend, especially since now the only girl she had to talk to was Luna, who had picked up a job at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Though Luna's presence was comforting enough, Hermione was still having a hard time adjusting to her oddities, and found herself biting her tongue whenever Luna said something that deserved a firm lesson in biology and reading standards.

"She'll be back by Christmas. Dad says mum's been sulking around the house all day with no children to cook for when you aren't visiting. She must be pretty… forceful, when you're around."

Forceful wasn't the word for it. Molly and Arthur had quickly adopted Hermione as a surrogate child after she sent her parents away into hiding. With a suddenly very quiet, very empty Burrow, they were suddenly inventing excuses for Hermione to come over. She didn't mind. The little cottage she'd purchased in Ottery St. Catchpole was pretty and in walking distance from the Burrow, but it tended to get eerily quiet at night, something that she didn't care with during such tense times.

"She tried getting me drunk on firewhiskey the other day so that I wouldn't go home," Hermione informed him with a smile as Ron began laughing and shaking his head. "But when I didn't want any more, she put up quite a fuss. I felt obliged to spend the night in Ginny's room just to calm her down."

"Well you know how my mum is. She doesn't like the idea of you sitting alone in that cottage all day; none of us do. Why don't you at least come to stay with me and Harry in London for a while?"

Hermione tried not to wrinkle her nose at the thought of the boys' flat, which she'd only seen once. There was clothing, various food cartons, and trash everywhere. She'd go doolally just trying to clean up after them every day. Not that they'd be around much, Auror training meant that they barely spent enough time in their flat to trash it before going back out again, which Hermione quickly pointed out.

"I'd be just as alone there as I am at the cottage," she added sadly.

"Yes, but at least you'd be alone somewhere… else," Ron replied nonsensically. Hermione frowned at him as he turned red.

"Ron, what are you going on about?" she demanded as the red head focused on his tea once more.

"Nothing 'Mione. I just don't like the idea of you sitting all alone in that house in the middle of nowhere," he insisted, though Hermione's frown didn't disappear. She didn't bother pointing out that 'the middle of nowhere' was where he'd grown up. Instead, her mind jumped to what all of their arguments had been about lately.

"Is this about sex?" she asked, saying the dreaded word in a whisper so the witches and wizards nearby wouldn't know what they were talking about. They were being gawked at enough, it was often that two members of the Golden Trio were seen out and about without some sort of armed guard. Hermione had insisted that whenever they went on one of their awkward little dates no one accompanied them. Besides, she and Ron were more than capable of taking care of themselves.

Ron's face turned an even brighter shade of red, if it were possible, "No! You know that's not the only thing I think about!"

Hermione and Ron had only gone at it once, and it had been so awkward and Hermione had been so mortified that she was almost keen on the idea of becoming a nun just to avoid the whole idea of sex. Even Ron had admitted that it hadn't gone very well, though (to make matters worse) it hadn't been to Hermione, but in a private conference with Harry, who had related the conversation to a fuming Hermione a few days later out of pity. What had started as an innocent move from Harry to let 

Hermione know that Ron was still willing to make a go of it even though 'the sex had been trash' had become an ongoing argument between the two about Ron's inability to keep private matters private. This wasn't the first time that Harry had let it slip that Ron told him more about their love life than was necessary.

Hermione surveyed Ron's faced intently before speaking, "Then what is it about, Ronald?"

Her bossy voice made him wince and though his blush had cooled considerably, Hermione could see anger slowly building up in his eyes. She mentally braced herself for yet another long argument.

"All I want for you is to be safer, is that so much to ask? You always think so little of me! Is it impossible for me to have good intentions? I don't like the idea of you being all alone somewhere that people wouldn't immediately know if something had happened to you!" his voice was just one level below shouting and Hermione looked around in embarrassment at all of the bemused witches and wizards who were now staring at them.

"Please calm down," she begged him in a whisper, but it seemed only to infuriate Ron even more. He stood up from his seat abruptly, the chair falling to the cobblestones with a loud clang that drew even more eyes.

"We'll talk later. I have to go," he informed her, dropping a few sickles on the table before leaving. Hermione stared at the silvery coins with watery eyes. When was the fighting going to stop? She hated this. They would fight for days, and then for a while their relationship would suddenly be amazing as they worked harder to make each other happy, but the happiness never lasted long enough. Before she could get used to the good side of their relationship, the fighting would start up again.

Alone again, Hermione hurriedly paid the bill, apologizing to their server who nodded understandingly and patting her on the back, "It's okay, sweetie. We all go through rough patches. I'm sure you two will be back together in no time."

The words weren't necessarily comforting, but Hermione recognized the kindness behind them and thanked the witch, leaving behind an extra big tip as she hurried back onto the streets of Diagon Alley.

Ron had probably apparated back to his flat, and Hermione wasn't planning on following him. He'd cool down in a few days, and by next week he'd write Hermione a messily scrawled letter that wouldn't offer an apology of any kind, but would give her some kind of update on his and Harry's life, which she would obviously appreciate more than any conjured sentiments.

She should probably be heading home, herself. It wasn't safe for anyone to be out alone during these troubled times, but especially not her. But rather than apparating back to her cottage and spending a few hours relaxing before heading over to the Burrow for dinner, Hermione decided to treat herself to a little shopping extravaganza at Flourish and Blott's. It had become a regular habit for her to do impulsive shopping after an argument with Ron, and her house was now almost overflowing with books and unneeded furniture. Two hours later, armed with a book on fifteenth century magic in central South America and a huge tome entitled 'Extremely Advanced Arthimancy Practices for Extremely Advanced Arthimancers', Hermione finally returned to her cottage.

Settled far back in the woods with a long, winding gravel driveway, the cottage was a simple one floor affair with ivy growing up its walls and windows framed by storm shutters. On the inside, it was all warm woods, thick area rugs, and glass-fronted dressers filled with jars of potion ingredients. Not to mention an incredible amount of bookshelves, at least one in every room except for the loo, where Hermione banned all books except for when she was taking an exceptionally long bubble bath. Though she'd only lived in the little house for a year now, she'd already made it her own and reveled in the cluttered neatness and hominess of the place. She was more than relieved when she finally apparated into the neatly laid out garden she'd spent all winter planning, marching into her home and setting the brown-paper covered books on the dining room table.

Something brushed against her legs and Hermione screeched in surprise, only to realize that Crookshanks was welcoming her home, "Oh, hello. Do you want something to eat?"

The half-kneazle seemed less than interested in eating and instead gave her an odd look and trotted off into the living room, Hermione following after him as his big fluffy tail disappeared from beyond the doorway. On instinct, her wand was out and in her hand before she entered the room, especially at the sound of something moving and Crookshanks hissing a warning.

Hermione took a deep breath, slowly making her way around the corner and into her living room, a curse right on the tip of her tongue. Amber eyes stared at her impertinently and Hermione momentarily froze up, caught completely off guard.

There was an owl perched on her winged-back arm chair. Hermione let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding and crept up to the owl, unsure exactly how it had gotten into her house when she secured every window, door and ward before she left. Any curiosity and worry, however, was discarded when she realized it was a letter from Ginny. Hermione's heart jumped in excitement as she opened the thick parchment envelope, eager to hear from her friend after so long apart.

Dear Hermione,

Greetings and salutations from Sichuan! Mr. Ollivander and I are currently staying in Deyang City with a wizarding family that has graciously taken us in before our real journey begins. The city is stunning, not even comparable to anywhere in England, and the people are very polite, though it's a little hard to keep up with the social norms. Yesterday, I forgot to take my trainers off before I entered the household and Mr. Deng seemed rather offended, though he didn't do much more than gesture for me to take my shoes off. I can't say that their superstitions are particularly worse than the ones we have, but they're certainly very different. Mum would probably appreciate the shoes thing, though; it would save her a lot of cleaning. I'm carefully going to omit this custom in my letter to her; I don't want her getting any ideas. Mr. Deng had been very polite when I forgot to take off my shoes, but mum would bite my head off.

The dragon in question has been terrorizing some of the smaller Sichuan villages nestled near the Himalayas for centuries now, and Mr. Ollivander believes that it must've made its home inside of a crevasse there. Naturally, we will not be climbing the mountains, they're much steeper and more dangerous on the Chinese side, and we would've been better off going to Nepal if that were the plan, in order to tackle the mountains from the safer side. Instead, we'll be setting up a camp near one of the villages and simply waiting for the dragon to show up. I'm not sure what Mr. Ollivander plans on doing from there. The Chinese version of the ministry has a department specifically for handling dragons, but they've mucked up the Chinese Fireball population so badly that I don't think Mr. Ollivander will kill it, just in a small effort to preserve the species. I suppose we'll try to stun the dragon and he'll demonstrate how to remove dragon heartstrings (without actually doing it, of course). I don't understand why we couldn't have done it with a Welsh Green, so we wouldn't have to do so much travelling, but I suppose he wants to show me the harder parts of being a wandmaker before really bringing me to the technical side of it.

I can't believe how excited I am over all of this! I never dreamed that I, Ginny Weasley, cast off of the Boy Who Lived, could be the next great wand maker. I'd never even considered it before!

I'll try to write to you more often, Mr. Deng is loaning us an owl to take with us on our excursion, though I think it's to send out word if the worst should happen to one of us, more than anything. There's so much to see and do around here and we aren't even in Hong Kong. Maybe I can find a camera at one of the underground wizarding shops so you can experience it along with me. I'm sure Mr. Ollivander would approve.

Write back soon, I'm missing you dreadfully!

Love,

Ginny

Hermione smiled as she finished the letter, able to overcome the slight bitterness and 'why her?' feeling in order to feel genuine happiness for her friend. After Harry had dumped Ginny, Hermione had a hard time of it keeping a good balance between both of her best friends, and sometimes she felt like she hadn't give Ginny the kind of comfort she deserved. The red-head had sulked and mooned over Harry for so long, and had him for just long enough to realize all of her dreams were coming true, before he was snatched away by his own sense of duty and his protectiveness of her. Hermione had no idea what that could feel like. She was just glad that this new distraction may be just enough to get Ginny out of the ditch she'd dug herself into.

Hermione put down the letter with a wistful smile on her face, quickly scribbling back a response as the owl ate some bread and drank from a bowl of water that she brought it. She was careful to keep out any mentions of her arguing with Ron, especially today's rather ridiculous row. The last thing Ginny needed right now was to hear anything depressing, especially while she was still riding on the high of her latest success. Finished with its food, the owl waited impatiently for her to finish writing before flying off with the parchment tied to its foot, heading off for yet another long journey into Asia. Hermione hoped it reached Ginny before they headed for the Himalayas, or the owl might never find them.

Hermione settled down on her couch, absorbing herself in the book on 15th century South American magic and trying to forget about how poorly her date with Ron had gone. By the time she was scheduled to head over to the Weasley's she had almost forgotten about the whole thing. Almost.

"Come in Hermione, dear!" Molly greeted her with an enveloping hug. When she pulled away, she realized she'd gotten flour all down Hermione's front and cleaned it off with a quick wave of her wand. "Come and have a seat at the table. Dinner should be ready in just a minute!"

Arthur was already seated, reading the evening edition of the daily prophet with a sour look on his face, "Mollywobbles I just cannot stand this Robin Mathers. You'd swear he'd never even heard of any of these battles we've been fighting, or the attacks on muggles. He's a regular Rita Skeeter, if you ask me."

He hadn't noticed Hermione's entrance, and she bit back a smile at his nickname for his wife. Molly cleared her throat and Arthur looked over his newspaper, seemingly not surprised to see that Hermione had arrived.

"Ah, hello, Hermione! Have you read the evening edition yet today?" he asked, handing off the newspaper to her as Hermione sat down and Molly bustled back into the kitchen. On the front cover in big words it said: 'Dumbledore Dishes Deleterious Disparagement of Doubtful Director!'. Hermione was starting to hate alliteration; it meant that one of the most putrid steaming piles of anti-Harry pro-Fudge sentiment was writing front page material once more.

"No, but I imagine I can already guess what it says: Harry's a liar, Dumbledore's a nutter, and we're all just conspirators against the Ministry, never mind that a good deal of us work for the damned place."

"So you've already read this article?" Arthur replied sarcastically and took the newspaper back from Hermione. A picture of a cheerful and waving Cornelius Fudge donned the front cover and Hermione glared bitterly at the much-hated face.

"It's what every article in the paper says these days," Hermione said dejectedly as she sat back in her seat. "I can't decide who's slander is worse: Rita Skeeter's gossip-mongering or Robin Mathers' sheer idiocy. Whenever I see someone reading the paper I just want to smack them with it."

"Chin up, dear," Molly assured her cheerfully. "It'll all turn around in no time. Once people realize that there really is a war brewing right under their noses, they'll all buck up and do the right thing."

"Exactly," Arthur backed his wife up and tossed the newspaper onto the shelf behind him. "Now, no need to talk of serious matters. This isn't an Order meeting, this is a nice, family dinner. So…"

Molly set a mouth-watering meat pie down onto the table and began serving pieces to both Arthur and Hermione, spooning boiled potatoes covered with butter onto the side as well. Hermione suddenly realized why Ron always ate with such veracity. The delicious food at Hogwarts was nothing like what Molly served at home.

"So," Molly continued where her husband trailed off. "You got the day off of work, dear? How nice. Ron said you two were going to meet at Diagon Alley."

Hermione nodded vigorously, carefully swallowing her mouthful of potatoes before answering, "Yes, I'd already gotten all of the information on the French Ministry prepared for the councilors' perusal, so they didn't need me in today. I'll be attending the meeting tomorrow with the Minister's liaison and the French minister himself to settle some of the trouble we've been having."

"What trouble is that, dear?" Molly asked, wiping her mouth with a napkin.

"The French have been harboring fugitives," Arthur answered for Hermione. "It's been a big to-do around the office. The Aurors are practically spitting poison, they're so mad."

"And, of course, the truce we made after the Hundred Years War means that we can't send any Aurors into the country without permission, which we won't get," Hermione added. "The Minister has 

been worried that it could start another battle between the English and the French, even though our foreign relations have been rather good lately."

"Ha! The French! That's who they're worried about?" Molly seemed genuinely amused. "If Bill's girlfriend is any indication as to what the French wizarding society is like, then we've nothing to fear. Why would the Minister be so worried about the French with You-Know-Who on the rise once more?"

"He still doesn't believe, Molly," Arthur reminded his wife patiently. "And he won't until Voldemort is sitting in his office, holding Fudge at wandpoint. Obviously, by then, it would be too late."

Hermione had never heard Arthur say 'Voldemort' before and realized the seriousness of his statement. Molly, however, didn't seem to like this idea and waved her hand dismissively at Arthur before concentrating more fully on her meat pie. Hermione tucked in as well, finding herself surprisingly hungry despite the stress of the day. By the time that their plates were cleaned (after a second helping, along with a third that was forced on her by Molly) Hermione was ready for a long nap, but managed to keep herself awake as she followed the Weasleys into the sitting room and took her place on one of the over-stuffed sofas.

"You know, with times like these, Hermione, you really can't be too careful," Arthur informed her, putting a warm hand on her knee and squeezing it with a reassuring smile. "And Molly and I have been talking. We think it would be safer for you if you came to stay with us."

Taken off guard, Hermione gaped at him for a moment. Finally she managed to get out a choked "What?"

"There's plenty of room!"Molly reassured her with a big smile. "The house is empty without the children and you can have any room you want, though I don't recommend taking Fred and George's old room, we still haven't gotten all of the scorch marks off of the ceiling."

"I really don't think—," Hermione started, but was cut off by Arthur, whose voice had gotten louder in order to talk over her.

"It is completely necessary, Hermione," he told her insistently. "During times like these, you are one of the main targets for the Death Eaters. You-Know-Who will not be merciful, especially not to you. He would—he would do unthinkable things to you, just for fun. And then he'd begin to work on you for information about the Order. It just isn't safe for you out there in your cottage."

"But it's completely safe!" Hermione replied, her eyebrows disappearing into her hairline the more Arthur spoke. "I've set up some very powerful wards over my house, some that I invented myself. No Death Eaters will get through that."

"But if You-Know-Who cares to, he can do it himself," Molly reminded her. "At least promise me you'll think about it. I can't stand to lose another to this horrible war."

Molly and Sirius had done nothing but argue in the weeks up to his death, but Hermione had known that Mrs. Weasley had a soft-spot for Harry's godfather. If she didn't, she wouldn't care enough to argue with him. Though his death hadn't hit anybody nearly as hard as it had Harry, Hermione had found Molly weeping in the cupboard more than once afterwards. And when Fudge had refused to admit he was wrong about both the reemergence of Voldemort and the innocence of Sirius, it had been Molly who had called the most viciously for his impeachment. Unfortunately, the Ministry was no longer about right and wrong any more. Even the optimistic Hermione could see the spreading blackness beginning at the heart of the ministry. Soon, there wouldn't be a single department left untouched by greed and corruption. By then, Hermione planned on being long-gone from the Department of International Wizarding Cooperation.

"I'll think about it, I promise," Hermione stated plainly, looking Molly in the eye to show she wasn't lying.

Seemingly satisfied by her answer, the Weasleys changed onto lighter topics, talking about Harry's success in the Auror training program, and Ron's ongoing fight with one of his superiors. Molly's eyes welled a bit when Hermione brought up Ginny's trip to China, though Arthur seemed proud. They even spoke briefly about Percy, who Hermione saw often with her position. The tenseness of the room had evaporated by the time Molly started making ice cream sundaes, blabbering happily on about Charlie's upcoming visit, and Hermione finished her visit on a high note, her usual concerns pushed far back into the corners of her mind as she apparated back to her cottage, missing the luxury of long walks in this time of danger.

By the time she'd passed through the wards of her house and made it to the front door, Hermione was absolutely knackered and couldn't wait to get some sleep before work in the morning. Crookshanks was nowhere to be found as she kicked off her shoes and walked into her bedroom, only to notice that something was wrong.

Somebody was already there.