**I do not own anything Harry Potter.**

CHAPTER 1

Hermione had always known being an auror would be difficult work, but she had no idea.

The stress was really getting to her. Day in and day out, she rose to a dark apartment, throwing her long, curly hair up into a messy bun and grabbing some coffee before running to the flue. Her days were full of intrigue and violence and fear – never a dull moment – and then it was back home in the dark, just in time to sleep for a few hours before the whole process began again.

She knew herself well enough to know that she wouldn't be happier doing anything else. Hermione found great fulfillment in ridding the wizarding world of the dark wizards that seemed to still turn up with concerning constancy. And of course, she was working with her two best friends in the world, as well as an amazing team of aurors and support staff. She knew how lucky she was.

"Still, though," she huffed to herself as she filed yet another report at her desk. Not since the war had the muscles in her back been so tense, had the tension headaches crept up with alarming intensity. Her mother was always reminding her, on the rare occasions that Hermione had time to talk on the phone during the work day, to listen to her body. "The pain is symptomatic of bigger issues, Mione – take care of yourself!" she often warned.

Hermione looked up from her work and closed her eyes. What did she need? What would help? She didn't have time for a visit to the healers, and she didn't have the patience to visit a muggle doctor anymore. No, this was a problem that only could be solved by Hermione's guiltiest pleasure – a masseuse.

She considered herself a very low maintenance woman – she never splurged on her hair or nails or makeup or clothes – really, she never splurged on anything. Well, her book buying habit was a little of control, but books were not an indulgence. They were a deep need, and without her reading time, she reasoned with herself, she would not be as well-adjusted as she was. "Keep telling yourself that," she mumbled.

But a good massage could be just the ticket. Not time consuming, not expensive, and very discreet – a bargain in self-maintenance to her introverted self. She would pop by her favorite masseuse on her way home from work tonight, she decided, and then put the thought out of her head. She had work to do.

Harry stuck his head in the door and knocked simultaneously.

"Hermione? Ready?"

She jumped, totally unaware of where she was for a moment. Work had a tendency to transport her outside of herself sometimes.

"Sorry, Mione," Harry laughed and moved a stack of papers off the lone chair she kept for guests. "Didn't meant to startle you. Just wondering if you were ready to go out? It's Friday, you know." He grinned, knowing she was still coming back to earth.

She shook her head forcefully, her curls releasing themselves from her bun and making her seem more disheveled. "Sorry Harry. You know how I get. It's been a bit of a day." She rubbed her eyes, surprised at how nice this small gesture of self-care felt. She'd never needed a massage more!

"I know what you mean. Ron and I were just out visiting the Bilger's home. More dark objects on the property. When will ever collect them all?" Harry looked exhausted, too, but had an air of lightness to his demeanor that puzzled her for a moment – until she remembered. Ginny was back in town today. No wonder Harry was anxious to get out of the office.

She smiled knowingly at her friend. "Ginny going to be there tonight?"

His face lit up. "Yes, thank Merlin! Two weeks on the road is too long. Any chance you could talk her into taking a more local assignment with the paper?"

She laughed, then hid her smile with her hand when she realized he was serious. "Harry, c'mon. You know Ginny doesn't listen to me. That's like asking me to quit this job. Might it be good for me? Safer, even? Probably, but when has that ever convinced me of anything? Or her, for that matter."

"I know you're right. Just wish…" he trailed off, looking deep in thought.

"She was here all the time? Me too. She makes everything more fun, doesn't she?" Hermione said helpfully.

"It's more than that, Mione. I need her close. There's no one like her, nor will there ever be. I'm thinking it's time to propose," he said mischievously, knowing that this simple sentence would throw Hermione into a whirlwind of yelping and jumping – and it did just that. Hermione came flying around the desk and threw her arms around Harry, grinning and squeezing him tightly.

"Really? Oh, I'm so excited! And she's going to be ecstatic," she said, holding Harry at arms' length. "But in all seriousness, you do know she's not going to choose to stay at home just because you propose, right? That's not the reason behind this decision?"

"No, no, not at all. I just want her to know that this is forever for me, for us to start working towards our future. I love her so much, Mione. She's the only family I've ever really had. I want to make our dream future a reality."

He looked so happy she could barely contain her joy. She hugged him again, then sighed. "I'd love to join you tonight, but I've got some errands to run, and then I'm heading home to collapse for the weekend. Maybe Sunday we could brunch?"

Harry looked disappointed, but said he understood, gave her a hug and made her promise to stay quiet about the proposal plans. She promised discretion, and he left as she gathered her things.

Carrying about thirty pounds of briefcase, work files, and library books, Hermione felt her muscles straining as she walked out of the Ministry and down the street. Thankfully, her masseuse was only a few blocks away. She promised herself that she wouldn't wait this long again to visit – maybe she should just make a standing weekly appointment while she was there this evening.

Turning the corner, she was struck by the last of the sunset, throwing purple and pink shades across the sky with abandon. Just lovely, and she felt a bit of stress drain away. She didn't get enough beauty in her life. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time she had gazed on anything quite as beautiful as the sky in this moment.

She opened the door to the masseuse's office and a familiar jingle of bells accompanied her entrance. Hermione set her things in a chair in the lobby and started the process of checking in when she was greeted by a smiling woman, petite and lithe. This was Gretchen, owner of the parlor and a wonderful masseuse herself.

"Good evening, Miss Granger. In for a quick massage? It's been awhile since I've seen you!" she said as she gestured to a room.

"Yes, though I would appreciate more than just a quick massage tonight. I've got some serious knots in my back this time around. Any chance you have about an hour available?" Hermione asked as she gathered her things.

The owner pursed her lips and thought for a moment. "I have an appointment that starts in a few minutes, but luckily I hired a new masseuse the other day. Would you be alright seeing someone else tonight? I can vouch for his work – he's incredibly strong and I think you'll be pleased with his technique." She smiled kindly, putting Hermione at ease.

A male masseuse? She quickly ran through her mind, trying to decide if she had any qualms, but decided she did not. She was definitely more comfortable with a fellow woman in the room, but she was desperate for some relief.

"No, that'll be fine, thank you," she smiled. "And could you write me down for another visit next week? Just look over your calendar and let me know when you have some availability. I need to start doing this more often."

"Of course, Miss Granger. I'm glad you'll be coming in again soon – maybe we can have a chance to chat then. Please let me know if you have any issues tonight. I hope he'll be able to help you feel better." With that, Gretchen closed the door behind her and left Hermione to undress.

Hermione made quick work of her auror robes, socks, shoes and bra. All utilitarian, all standard wear for her line of work. Part of the appeal of the work for her was the ability to dress for the nature of the job, not to impress. She didn't have room in her brain to put together flattering outfits – though she had to admit to herself that she had a better than average figure. The way she looked was such a low priority that it rarely crossed her mind to really pay it any mind.

Feeling a little vulnerable in just her panties, she crossed the room quickly and got settled face down on the massage table, covering her lower half with the sheet and pulling her hair back as she placed her face into the cushions. She tucked her arms under the sheet and tried to stop shivering. It wasn't even cold in the room, so she didn't know why she had gotten so chilled.

Just laying down was so relaxing, she might well pass out before the masseuse even walked in. She forced herself to go over her most recent work situation while she waited to she wouldn't….and then, she was sound asleep.