A/N: Hey, it's been a while. This is just going to be a little three part thingy because I'm on holiday and feeling creative. Don't ask for any more than the three chapters, I will say yes, but then write a few and give up.

"Oh for Merlin's sake!" Hermione Granger kicked off her covers and hastily rolled out of bed, quietly cursing the silvery blue Pygmy Puff, Jeremy, she'd instructed to wake her up seven minutes earlier, who's eyes were shut and was snoring softly. "Every morning..."

She showered and pulled her robes on over her still damp skin, evaporated the remaining water from the ends of her hair with her wand, grabbed her bag from the side table and slammed the door behind her as she strode out.

As was her usual way, she arrived at the Ministry ten minutes early. Hermione was lighting the lanterns and making coffee by the time the rest of her team began traipsing in, led by Hermione's second-in-command, Tracey Flanagan.

"Good morning!" Tracey trilled in her clipped and eloquent accent. This was the reason Hermione had hired her. Only Tracey out of everybody in the office was quite so cheerful at nine in the morning, and would remain so all the way through the day. "So today you have that meeting with the Minister at ten-thirty. Then you have lunch with the woman from Ministry in Mongolia about starting up a department over there. I'm quite excited about that, by the way, if we can go over to get them started, can we do it? I could use a holiday."

"You had a holiday last month." Hermione pointed out, lips twitching into a reluctant smile.

"Yes, but that was only Paris, and I've been there before. Now, Mongolia! One doesn't get the opportunity to go there every day."

Hermione shook her head, smiling openly. "What about this afternoon?"

"Well, there is the campaign in Aberystwyth that needs overseeing, and we're expecting that to last at least a couple of hours. It's set to start at three so I say we get there at about two-thirty just to get all the official stuff with the Prophet out of the way before things get too hectic."

Hermione laughed, picking up her coffee and sliding past the frail partition that separated her desk from those of her three other co-workers. "It's a peaceful campaign in Aberystwyth, Trace, I don't think 'hectic' will quite be the word the Prophet chooses."

The room was silent. The heads of all the new departments at the Ministry of Magic spaced around the long table, all wearing similar tired expressions and wringing their hands nervously.

Kingsley Shacklebolt leant forwards, looking around at them all and sighing heavily. "I'm sorry, but you represent the departments the Ministry currently recognises as either ineffective, or an unnecessary drain on resources. You either need to start raising your game or else take the first steps in closing your departments." Several faces fell, heads sunk into hands, hands ran through already static hair, but Hermione remained stony-faced, straight-backed and stoic. "Again, I'm sorry, but this is just the way it has to be." Shacklebolt stood, and swept out of the room.

"What a nightmare." Jimmy Clegg breathed besides Hermione. "We all know mine'll be the first one to go. Who cares about the 'Censorship and Maintenance of Magical Literature'?"

"So you're just going to give up?" Hermione snapped. "Just like that?"

Clegg shrugged. "We're the ultimate 'drain on resources'. It's got so the kids know all the bad words we're supposed to be censoring and maintaining literature is essentially a glamorised form of librarianship."

"Well, I'm not giving up. An entire community is relying on my department." There was an awkward silence as the rest of the heads flapped around, gathering up their belongings. "Fine. At least I'm trying." Hermione stormed out of the room.

Tracey grinned broadly as Hermione swept back into the Department for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. "How did it go?"

Hermione sighed heavily, letting her bag crash heavily onto her desk. "Well, Tracey, unless we prove ourselves to not be a complete waste of Ministry resources, a feat I'm not entirely convinced we can accomplish, we are about to be shut down."

Tracey hummed thoughtfully, though the casual smile remained on her lips, much to Hermione's frustration. "Well it's certainly a pickle. I'm sure you'll work it out though. You built this department from nothing, against all the odds, proving many people wrong. So, if anyone is up to the challenge it's you."

"Thank you, Tracey. The only trouble is, though it's true I built up this department, exactly how much have we achieved since?" Tracey gave her a sympathetic look. "A few jealous people reporting their more affluent, but generally perfectly reasonable, neighbours for house elf mistreatment. Hardly the roaring success I hoped it would be."

"Oh, don't say that." Tracey gushed. "We're still working at making people aware of what is appropriate and what is inappropriate treatment of elves. People don't know what to look for yet. When they do, I'm sure things will be better."

"Permanent optimist, aren't you?" Hermione smirked.

"Always."

Hermione smiled. "What time is it anyway?" Tracey showed her her watch. "Merlin's beard, I'd better get going."

Hermione's hopes were not high for this meeting with the Mongolian ministry representative. It was the fifth of these meetings she had organised, and none of the previous four had resulted in success. Indeed the Mongolian woman's entire demeanour screamed that she did not want to be there, and conversation was forced and stunted through the entire meeting.

Hermione came away feeling tired and frustrated. Every one of these small failures felt like another nail in the coffin of her department. Her brainchild. She knew she shouldn't but she couldn't help but take it personally. She had failed and it would be her who would be discredited once the department was closed down. Tracey and the others would be able to pass their brief stint in the department as a personal mistake or as an admin prank but it would be she who would be forever remembered as the one who had truly believed.

"And what is this?" Tracey was holding up a piece of parchment, elegantly headed, with the Hogwarts coat of arms visible at the top.

Hermione took it from her as she hung her cloak over the back of her desk chair. She skimmed it and handed it back. "I'd forgotten about that."

"Well, are you going to go?" Hermione could see the excitement Tracey was desperately trying to hide. This was exactly the sort of thing she loved.

"Go back to The Scarlet Cauldron, Tracey." Hermione said, indicating the romance novel tucked between the files on Tracey's desk.

"Oh, but you have to admit, it is romantic."

"How?" Hermione laughed. "It'd be me in the great hall with a bunch of other people who haven't yet done enough with their lives to be too busy on a Friday night for such affairs."

Tracey shook her head in despair. "Was there nobody you used to like? Nobody who you wonder about?"

Hermione stood and pretended to think about it. "No. Believe it or not I was a bit too busy with all the business with Harry and Ron to take much notice in boys."

"Well, what about them?"

"Tracey, I had dinner with the pair of them last night, there's not a whole lot I need to catch up on with them."

"And still nothing going on with Ron?"

"Ron and I are still very amicably broken up, thank you very much."

By this time both women were striding towards the lifts up to the entrance lobby, where they flooed to the fireplace of The Charmed Donkey, a pub in the small wizarding community situated just outside Aberystwyth. To Hermione's disappointment, the pub was completely empty but for the barman, quietly sucking up the spilt alcohol from the bar with his wand and depositing each seperate liquid back into their appropriate bottles. The light steam this process gave off only gave the pub a more deserted atmosphere.

The barman looked up at them, and gave a curt nod. Hermione went over to him. "Hello, we're from the Ministry, is the Prophet here yet?"

The barman looked around him slowly, pointing out, without words, the emptiness of his pub. "Right." Hermione sighed. She turned to Tracey. "So not quite the busy afternoon we were expecting."

Tracey shrugged. "At least it means you can go to this reunion now."

"Fantastic." Hermione breathed.

It wasn't that the reunion would be so awful. Hermione had conveniently failed to mention to her right-hand woman that her two school friends would be in attendance, as well as all of the other classmates that she'd managed to stay in contact with. In fact, it was starting to look like the place to be the last she'd heard. This did not, however, mean she wanted to go. There were too many people she wanted to avoid, too many she'd promised herself she wouldn't have to see again once school was finished.

"Oh, just go." Tracey nagged, interrupting Hermione's thoughts as the two of them walked back to the office. "What have you got to lose?"

"My pride? I'm head of a failing Ministry department. I'm single, virtually friendless and even my owl resents spending time with me. I have absolutely nothing to show for the last five years of my life."

Tracey smiled at her sympathetically. "Now, you know that's not true. You are head of a Ministry department. That's hardly something to scoff at! You're a busy woman, you practically live here! You don't have time for a relationship or friends, and Figaro is just a very ratty owl!"

The office was empty, the other three all having given up for the day, and only the lantern above Hermione's desk was still lit. "Thanks, Tracey." She shrugged. "I'm sorry for moaning like that, it's just been a tough day."

"Please just go. For me? You might have fun." Hermione moaned pathetically. Tracey laughed. "Please?"

"Oh, fine! But whatever happens is on you."

A/N: So the next chapter is Draco's, the the last will be covering the reunion itself, so please don't all review going 'but you haven't mentioned Draco at all! How can this be DM/HG?'. This is why I write these notelets, so you people know what's going on!

Loveage,

JustADoll

xxx