A/N: After some intense editing, I'm finally ready to republish this story. It's one of my favorites and I know many others enjoyed it as well. Hopefully you'll enjoy it just as much, if not more. I only made a few changes to the original story line but I did redo my outline so that it'll last a bit longer. I'll be updating chapters every few days until we catch up to where I'm still writing or until it's ultimately finished. Thank you for your continued support - TC

One – Grimmauld Place – 6:29am

Hermione jumped at the sound of her alarm buzzing. Hitting the top of the screeching metal contraption, she briefly considered just using her wand as an alarm from now on but scraped the idea almost immediately. She had gone the first eleven years of her life without magic. She didn't need to rely on it for everything.

Stretching beneath the threadbare covers, she began to kick them off before pushing herself up and out of her bed. Padding across the floor to the dresser, she eyed her reflection in the mirror for a moment. She had always looked a little pale in the mornings, but more so after the war. It had only been a few months, hardly enough time to really make a difference, but they were all moving on.

She, Harry, and Ron had decided not to return to Hogwarts. The memories were too painful and none of them really felt like schoolchildren any longer. To try to return to the castle would have only caused more damage. She had surprised everyone the most though. Bookish Hermione Granger didn't want to set NEWT records?

Not anymore, had been her reserved answer. Not after being on the run in the woods for months. Not after being hunted, caught, and tortured. Not after watching people she loved and respected die right in front of her.

She didn't feel like the same person half of the time. And the other half of the time she was just trying her best to cope and move on while simultaneously helping everyone else do the same. She refused offers of therapy or group counseling. She declined progressive medications that most of her friends had turned to. She just kept to herself.

It wasn't hindering her, at the very least. She had gotten a wonderful job in the Muggle Relations Department, which Arthur Weasley was now the director of. And in just a few months of hard work she held his previously unoccupied position as Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office. It wasn't a prestigious job, but Hermione enjoyed it.

She was allowed more free reign; she could go out into the field instead of being confined to an office all day, she had several daily dealings in Diagon and Knockturn Alley, and she could impress her bosses and colleagues by removing dangerous curses placed on muggle items on her own.

Her favorite part of the job, however, was when she would take consultation calls and go to magical homes to help the families integrate Muggle technology into their homes. Despite mostly having to explain electricity and coffee makers, she did enjoy seeing wizards faces light up when shown Muggle vehicles. They took to them as quickly as they did to broomsticks as children. And witches are always boggled by Muggle clothing and perfume.

When Muggleborns step into the wizarding world they are filled with awe and curiosity. Hermione has found that the reverse is much the same. Wizards are finally seeing what Muggles have to offer and they are beginning to accept it and acclimate to it.

And Hermione, despite only being twenty years old, had made quite a name for herself and was well on her way up the proverbial ladder inside of the Ministry. It was quite a win for her Muggleborn and youthful status.

She felt content. Maybe not necessarily happy, but that would come, she had told herself. The war and loss was still too fresh for her to feel more than just content. She was fine, at the moment. Soon she'd be able to move past everything and embrace life to its fullest.

Or so she hoped.

Releasing a deep, morning sigh, she grabbed a pencil skirt and white blouse from her drawers and went to the bathroom down the hall to get ready before breakfast. She usually tried to have a meal ready or started by the time Harry woke up and came downstairs.

He had to embrace early mornings as well now that he had officially joined the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Just graduated from the academy two months ago, he's one of seven Junior Aurors but just like Hermione, his superiors have high expectations for him. Being the Boy Who Lived Twice helps, she often teased.

The two of them had been living together since they made the decision to forgo their seventh year. And it had just been the two of them. Ron had remained at the Burrow before traveling to Romania to help his older brother Charlie with dragons. Apparently being on the back of one hadn't scared him away from them. If anything, Hermione thought it had only endeared them to him more.

Ginny had wanted to stay with Harry, thinking now that the war was over and all threats of death were out of the way, the two could finally pursue a relationship. But Harry had declined. It had been shocking, to say the least. He hadn't given her more of a reason other than that they weren't as compatible as he had once thought and preferred to have it just be him and Hermione.

It was reminiscent of them being on the run together at the very least. Well, less sadness and anxiety, but they still had the same synch going on. They were both happy with the other and the easy comradery. Harry never failed to cheer her up and he appreciated her ability to tell when he needed someone and needed space.

But his new job kept the focus of his attention now. He now came home excited to tell her about his day and how he did something to impress his bosses. The two friends never failed to attempt to one up each other over dinner, sparking a gentle rivalry that both enjoyed.

Most adults thought the two young adults would get lonely living by themselves in the large townhouse, but it was far from the truth. They allowed visitors, keeping their Floo Network open, and normally their school friends or Order members would drop by on a weekly basis at different intervals. Besides that, both preferred to have their own down time and when they didn't, they had each other. It was enough for now.

Whenever they had days off, they spent most of their time redecorating the once decimated and gothic themed house. Since it was legally Harry's now, they could do whatever they wanted with it. Both agreed that lighter colors were a must have.

Even now, inside of a warm shower, Hermione's brain still went from work to how she could make the living, dining, and kitchen areas into more of an open floor plan without causing structural damage. Harry had agreed that they would do this the Muggle way. It gave them more time to spend on the project and if they ever got tired, they could always revert back to magic.

Stepping out of the shower, she quickly dressed, somehow managed to pull her wild mane that she often debated calling hair into a tight ponytail, and applied minimalist makeup. Just enough to make her look less tired and drained. She told herself she just needed more sun, more food, and more sleep. She'd be fine after that.

Toeing into her flats, she left the bathroom and went downstairs to the kitchen, debating on whether or not to make pancakes or French toast. She figured since it was Monday, Harry would want his favorite to start the week. Pancakes it was.

She set to making them and heard the telltale signs that her housemate was awake by the sound of running water from high above her. Good, she figured. Breakfast was almost ready anyways. Putting the cakes on a plate, she set the table around them and on a last thought, turned the coffee maker on. She preferred tea in the morning but Harry often appreciated a quick cup or two. It kept him more alert, he told her.

She wouldn't know, she only used coffee to pull all-nighters.

As she finished up, she heard a clicking sound come from the window above the sink. Drying her hands on dish towel, she unlatched the door and let in the small herd of owls. Paying a knut for the Daily Prophet, that owl swiftly left, leaving only two others; Hermes, Harry's new Horned owl, and an unfamiliar barn owl.

Taking the letter addressed to her friend from Hermes, she directed the youngling to his food bowl where he perched, happily munching away on his treats. Looking at the nervous barn owl, she gently inspected its mangled leg that had string tied so tightly that it was crushing the poor thing. The string had a thin piece of parchment attached to it, but she didn't pay it any mind as she cut the string and let it, along with the paper, float onto the table. She set to healing the poor animal's leg before setting it next to Hermes to enjoy a good meal.

"Why won't you let me lodge a complaint about this, Mione?" She looked up to see her best friend standing in the doorway, concern etched into his emerald eyes. "It's been weeks."

Picking up the piece of parchment that had fallen onto the table, she flipped it open and stared at the vague message, "I want you," before wordlessly incinerating it.

"They'll go away when they realize they aren't eliciting the response they want," she decided flippantly. Not concerned in the slightest about the short, never addressed messages she had been getting since August. The only tell that it was the same person was that every bird was injured in some way or another. Either from being caught to be used as a messenger or what had happened to this one today. Whoever it was used them like slaves with no regard for their safety or comfort.

Harry was convinced it was someone dangerous. Hermione just figured her new celebrity status attracted even the strangest individuals. Whoever it was has never approached her, never bothered her past these letters, and injuring the owls was the only problem the young witch had with the person.

His, or hers, notes weren't even threatening. They were just creepy with bizarre romantic undertones. Her friend might see them as stalkerish and declarations of harm, but Hermione just saw them as unwelcomed. And she resolved that if they went unanswered with no response from her whatsoever, then they would eventually cease.

"I hope you know what you're doing…" Harry muttered as he sat down across from her.

"When don't I?" She replied airily, causing a knowing smirk to reappear on her friend's face.

"Oh, I don't know. Sometimes you can miss what's right in front of you though," he mumbled with a grin into his food.

"What was that Harry Potter?" She questioned, sticking her fork at him in a failed attempt to be threatening. He scoffed at her attempt before they both ended up falling into a mess of chuckles.

"Nothing, nothing. Just be careful, alright? We both have to go out into the real world today."

"They're sending you into the field today?" She asked, curious about what his new secret assignment was. He hadn't even been told yet, today was to be his debriefing. She was just going into Diagon Alley today. Not nearly as exciting.

"Supposedly. I'm just ready to finally know what all this hush hush nonsense has been about. I had lunch with Neville last week and he thought it had something to do with suspected breakout attempts at Azkaban."

"What do you think it is?"

Harry looked solemn for a moment before he gave her a slightly nervous look, "We'll talk about it tonight when I get back. I have my theories but I want to know the truth first."

"Alright," she conceded. She knew Harry would end up telling her regardless of when he actually did it. He wasn't good at lying either, especially not to her. They were just too close. And held too much love for the other.

But she couldn't see whatever it was that he was worried about being as bad as he seemed to believe it was.

She'd come to see just how very wrong she was though.

Later that afternoon, to be precise.