author's note: this is my first in a while, but it follows DH pretty consistently and just ignores the epilogue. please be aware that this will get very dark and more mature later on. enjoy !

disclaimer: i own nothing(sadly)

Another dead.

Three related muggleborn deaths within two months certainly didn't sound like the sorts of things they were supposed to be dealing with. This time it was a boy(only a boy, she would think twenty seven times over the course of this morning), only fourteen years old. It was the age Hermione remembered fondly, when Harry and Ron would argue their maturity. In truth, she knew then just as much as now, they were only boys, just as this one was. The age of fourteen was filled with memories of the Burrow, the Yule Ball, and Hermione's first kiss, and it was also haunted by the World Cup, the Triwizard Tournament, and now the knowledge of this boy.

Peace was what was supposed to follow after the war, right?

Hermione wasn't so sure. For after four years, peace still had not fallen into the daily routine of her life. She was fairly certain to make the same assumption of her friends.

Whether it be the occasional nightmare that would find its way into her subconscious, the forlorn thought that she would always wear clothes with sleeves that reach her wrists from now on, or the news of the muggleborn attacks that seemed all too familiar to the masked enemies she thought were long behind them, Hermione felt that there was no time for peace.

Perhaps that's what it meant, she often wondered late into the night, to survive. They had clawed out of the rubble from beneath the bodies of their enemies and friends and were there to breathe "Victory" when the dust had settled, but what were they left with?

The grief, the ashes, and the responsibility to rebuild what they had helped tear apart in the name of survival.

But she had purpose, she always reminded herself when she felt the bittersweet feeling lurking in the back of her mind. There were still Death Eaters out there, still murderers that they had to seek out. Even after this time, her friends were still a team, albeit a newly built one. The Auror's(Harry and Ron, sometimes she still had to remind herself that her boys were all grown up now) responsibilities fell to find them and bring them to Hermione, where she and her colleagues would help hand out justice to those who thought they could escape it. It was only her first year in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and sometimes it felt a bit daunting to her with some of the things she dealt with, but nonetheless a task she readily accepted.

(Just a boy.)

Hermione's shoulders felt heavy as the thought replayed in her head. Quietly, she murmured "Alohomora" and listened as the lock on her office went into place. For a moment, she only sat, staring at the article so crudely titled STUDENT FOUND DEAD IN ALLEY, and felt pleased that her new department had skillfully kept such details from the public about the boy's death.

Still, it didn't keep them from her.

It took her a moment to realize that her hand had begun to tremble as she held the paper. Dropping it to her desk, she exhaled. Breathe in, breathe out, she repeated. The weight of her career was an immense one, she realized early on, and it was something she still had to push behind her. Her job was an important one, she always reminded herself, and it would not wait for her.

The knock at her door was almost so quiet she might not have heard it if she hadn't already started to compose herself. "Just a minute." She said quickly, mumbling a swear to herself before wiping at her eyes to rid herself of anything that might give anything away. Straightening her clothes, she unlocked the door and opened the door for her visitor.

"Ron," she smiled instantly, embracing him. "I missed you." Squeezing him tighter, she inhaled, immediately relaxing at the familiar scent of him being near her again. Stepping away, she motioned for him to come sit beside her at her desk.

"I have news you'll want to hear." Ron's words should have excited her, but for the moment she's just excited to have her friend back, but when he sees the huge words splattered in ink on her desk, his face falls.

"Another one?" he asked quietly, and Hermione felt she could feel the exhaustion in his voice. Without responding, she began to nod, and felt the need to change the subject. "Where's Harry?" The two had been gone for almost a month to the day.

"Well, about that,"

Hermione stared at him, attempting to interpret his expression. He had a mixture of anger and confusion and hesitancy all mixed together, and Hermione suddenly wasn't sure if his news was good news at all.

"Ron, what happened?" she asked him wearily. She - they - did not need any more bad news.

It didn't take Ron long to understand her reaction and instantly began shaking his head. "No, no, Hermione - that's not what I meant - " he was stammering now, and Hermione felt like swatting him on the arm but it had just been so long since she'd listened to him do it.

"Then what is it? What's happened?" She asked him, more curious than fearful of the news he had to deliver to her now. "Do I need to come see him? Did something go wrong?"

Placing a hand on her shoulder, Ron smiled. "Hermione, it's okay. It's good news, actually."

Finally, good news. Hermione felt her mood lighten, and she smiled. That meant that Harry and Ron had succeeded. She did not know the specifics of their mission, only that they were attempting to catch one of the wanted fugitives. "Who was it?" The names of who were out there was unknown, as it was hard to tell exactly who some of the bodies were.

Ron's own eyes were wide with excitement, as though he couldn't believe they'd managed to come back with a sucess on this. "You aren't even going to believe it, but we caught the pampered prince himself hiding out in a shack near Dublin. We brought Malfoy in this morning."

Hermione felt her blood run cold at the name. "You found Malfoy?" She repeated slowly, and then attempted to grasp the rest of the information. "In a shack?" Granted, she knew that a money trail left more evidence to be found by, but she certainly didn't expect the Malfoys to be one of the people who saw that practicality.

Better phrased, she didn't expect the Malfoys to care.

"But you only found Draco?" She asked him, her expression quizzical. "Where were his parents?" Surely the family had traveled together, so Hermione was left confused as to why they only came back with one fugitive.

Ron shook his head. "We don't know, really. We found him on his own, and he refused to disclose anything about his parents, figures. But there was another thing, Hermione, he asked to speak to you." Ron told her cautiously, wary of her reaction.

Hermione felt her stomach drop, though she wasn't entirely sure if it was because it was just that it was a Death Eater she was being told had been captured, or the boy who had tormented her and her friends for years, slapping her in the face with every insult imaginable to try and shame her.

Part of her wondered if she was not as mature as she thought she was for being uncertain about that.

"Someone from the Department?"

"No, Hermione. He wants to speak to you, only you."

Peace would have to wait another day