Hermione Granger sighed and glanced up at the clock. Only half an hour to go before the work day ended. She was glad. Today had been a day of tedious paperwork and monotonous staff meetings.

When Hermione had been approached by the Ministry of Magic, offering her a position in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, she had enthusiastically accepted it. At first, she had enjoyed the work. In the first couple of months she gained a lot of Basic Wizard Rights for Muggle-borns, and she had even managed to dissuade the Ministry from enforcing a marriage law between purebloods and Muggle-borns.

After she had achieved this she had tried to begin the important work she had always intended to do in her job: fighting for the rights of werewolves. But the Ministry disagreed with her views. Even after the Wizarding War, or maybe even because of it, they still feared, mistrusted and loathed werewolves. They forbade Hermione from doing this work, and instead limited her to cases involving goblins and house elves that had been abused by wizards.

Now, over a year later, Hermione hated her job. She lived only for Friday evenings and dreaded Monday mornings most of all. Yes, she was very glad that it was nearing the end of the day.

She thought longingly of her little apartment. She couldn't wait to change out of her work clothes and straight into her pyjamas and dressing gown. She couldn't wait to make herself a cup of tea and curl up on her sofa with a good book.

But no, she wouldn't be doing that tonight, she suddenly remembered. She was going out for a drink with Ron today. She sighed. Something else she wasn't particularly looking forward to. She usually didn't mind going out with Ron but today she was tired and frustrated with work, and she just wanted to relax.

Hermione carried on working, occasionally looking up at the clock. Finally, at two minutes to five, she put down her quill and put the lid back on her bottle of ink. She waved her wand and her desk tidied itself, the parchment organised in a tidy pile, the quills arranged neatly in their holder. She picked up her bag and took her coat off the hook by the door. Then she walked out her office, the stress of work already beginning to dissolve away. She went to the ladies restroom and changed out of her work clothes before walking down to the Atrium to meet Ron.

He smiled when he saw her. 'Hermione, you look great.'

He leaned down and kissed her cheek.

'Thanks, Ron,' she said, believing the opposite.

She knew Ron thought she looked good. But she didn't feel comfortable, and that made her self-conscious. She wore make-up and had meticulously charmed her hair until it was completely straight, just the way Ron liked it. She wore heels because Ron always complained that she was too short. She also wore a necklace that Ron had bought her for Valentine's day, which she didn't actually like.

'Shall we get going?' Ron suggested.

'Okay,' she agreed as Ron wrapped his arm around her and began to lead her out of the Ministry building.

'Where were you thinking of taking me?' she asked, concentrating on not stumbling in her heels.

'Cannons' Club,' he replied.

Hermione groaned inwardly. The Cannons' Club was a private bar for the members of the Chudley Cannons and their fans. It was where Ron always took her and she was bored of it. She didn't like all the Quidditch talk and she didn't like the way Ron's fans crowded them. But, she supposed that's what happened when you dated the Keeper of the Chudley Cannons.

'It's just going to be me and you, though?' she asked.

'Of course, babe,' he said, giving her a little squeeze.

When they got to the crowded bar, Hermione found them a table while Ron got their drinks. She watched him as he chatted with the barman and a group of rowdy, probably drunken Cannons' fans. He was in his element as he joked and laughed, enjoying the popularity that his career had given him. Ten minutes later, when she was beginning to become bored, he finally brought their drinks over to the table.

'Thanks,' Hermione said, sipping the glass of wine that he placed in front of her.

For some reason Ron assumed that women drank wine, while beer and whisky were drinks more suited to men. Hermione actually didn't much like alcohol; she'd much rather have butterbeer or Cola.

Ron nodded. 'I've also ordered some food, you look thin, Hermione, you need to eat more.'

She shrugged. 'I'm not hungry. Anyway, I'm fine.'

'No, you're not,' he said. 'You always look pale and exhausted. You never seem happy. What's wrong, Hermione?'

She began to feel awkward, unsure of what she should say. 'Nothing, I-'

'The war is over, Hermione,' Ron said gently. 'I know a lot of awful things happened. I know a lot of lives were lost but… I'm worried about why you haven't recovered yet.'

'I'm getting better,' Hermione lied.

'I don't think you are,' he said. 'I think you need to see someone. Don't Muggles have those special doctors? What're they called? Psychiatrists? Maybe they could help.'

She nodded. 'Okay, Ron, I'll think about it.'

'Don't worry, babe,' he said, grabbing her hand. 'Everything will get better after we're married.'

She smiled at him. 'Have you asked Harry to be your best man yet?'

'Yeah I asked him last week,' he replied. 'By the way, Mum told me to remind you that you still need to come over so she can start planning the wedding with you.'

'Okay,' she said slightly reluctantly. 'I'll do that soon.'

'I know she can be annoying,' Ron said apologetically, 'but you know what she's like. There hasn't been a Weasley wedding since Harry and Ginny's, so she's excited.'

Hermione dreaded talking to her soon-to-be mother-in-law. She didn't want to think about the wedding. She couldn't face choosing a dress and the flowers the dozens of other things that weddings required.

Two months ago, when Hermione and Ron's relationship had reached its first anniversary, he taken her out to dinner in the swankiest restaurant in London and he had proposed in front of a room full of others diners and waiters.

Luckily, Hermione had anticipated the impending proposal, so she didn't suffer much embarrassment. She also prepared an answer to the question.

While Hermione didn't love Ron perhaps as deeply as a girl should when she was thinking of marrying a man, and she knew he wasn't completely right for her, he was familiar and she was content enough with him to imagine a comfortable future. She often felt guilty about marrying Ron for the wrong reasons but anytime she thought of a future with nothing but her loneliness and despair for company, her reservations melted away.

'Look, it's Ron Weasley!' chorused a group of girl who had just spotted the famous Quidditch player.

'Hello, girls,' Ron said easily, waving at them.

They rushed over to the table with huge smiles on their faces. They were all tall and well-endowed in the chest department. They all wore short dresses and killer heels. One was blonde, and the other two were brunettes.

'Can we get your autograph?' the blonde asked.

Hermione tried not to roll her eyes.

'Sure,' said Ron with a grin. He took the poster of himself that the girl was holding and pulled a pen from his pocket. 'What are your names?'

'I'm Chelsea,' said one brunette, who then pointed to the other brunette and the blonde. 'And they are Danielle and Erika.'

Ron nodded and began to write. Danielle suddenly noticed Hermione sitting quietly at the table.

'You're Hermione Granger,' she said with keen interest.

'Yes, I am, nice to meet you.'

'You're lucky,' said Chelsea, 'getting to date a famous Quidditch player.'

'She is really lucky,' said Danielle. 'Don't you remember when she was at Hogwarts? She was involved with Viktor Krum.'

Both girls sounded as though they couldn't fathom how she had managed to attract the interest of not one but two rich, famous and completely eligible young men. Hermione began to feel annoyed.

Ron stopped writing and raised his eyebrows at the trio. 'She's over that little phase now, aren't you, babe?' He asked and continued speaking without bothering to wait for an answer. 'She's completely patriotic now, only British players will do.'

'I'll say,' said Erika, giving him a flirty grin. While the brunettes had been talking about Hermione, the other hadn't been able to take her eyes off Ron.

Ron winked at Erika and she giggled.

'Now which one of you lovely ladies gets to keep this poster?'

'We're roommates, so we're going to share you,' said Danielle suggestively.

Ron handed back the poster with a smile.

'Can we join you?' asked Erika eagerly.

'Yeah, sure,' Ron said and then quickly looked at Hermione. 'That's okay with you, right, babe?'

'Of course,' said Hermione unenthusiastically, remembering that Ron had promised that it was going to be just the two of them.

She succumbed to boredom as Ron and the girls chatted about his Quidditch career and personal life. She quietly sipped her wine, trying not to be offended that Ron had completely forgotten she was here.

As soon as Hermione finished her drink she stood up and started putting on her coat.

'Ron, I'm going home now, I'm tired.'

Ron halted his animated conversation and glanced up. 'But what about the food? That girl's bringing it over, look. You should eat.'

Hermione shook her head. 'No thanks. I'm not hungry; I just want to leave.'

'Okay,' Ron said, standing up, looking as though he was preparing to leave as well. 'Wait just a minute.'

'It's okay, Ron,' she said. 'You stay, I don't mind.'

'Are you sure you don't want me to take you home?'

'No I'm fine. I'll see you soon.'

'Okay,' he said, giving her a quick kiss on the lips. 'Goodnight, babe.'

'Goodnight,' she said. She left the bar and walked a little way down the street and then apparated to her apartment.

As soon as she got inside, she started the kettle boiling and changed into her pyjamas. She felt cold as usual so she reached into her wardrobe and pulled out a thick brown jumper. She slipped into it. It was a man's jumper so it was much too big for her but it was so cosy and she loved it. She made a pot of tea, got out some biscuits and went to curl up on her sofa.

Now that she was alone she could finally let the barriers fall. She reached over and took a framed photograph from the little table to right of the sofa. She looked at it as tears began to well in her eyes.

It was a magical photograph, the images of the two people contained in it were moving. The photograph showed a man and a girl, clearly in love. They laughed and smiled. Sometimes they kissed tenderly. Sometimes the man wrapped his arm around the woman and she snuggled happily into his side.

The photograph showed Hermione and the man she was in love with, the man whose jumper she was currently wearing and the man who had lost his life fighting in the battle at Hogwarts.

'Oh, Remus,' Hermione whispered as the tears began to fall.