Author's Note: Hi everyone! This is my first Lucius/Hermione story so I'm trying to take it slow, I'll be updating when inspiration strikes. If I feel like the response I'm getting is positive then I'll probably be more interested in continuing, for now this is just for fun!

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. The characters are Rowling's and the plotline is based off of Nora Ephron's "You've Got Mail" starring Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan. I'm going to be referencing that film a lot so I highly suggest it if you would like to catch little references!

Hermione Granger was quite proud of what she had made out of her life. She'd carved a pretty memorable path and had the awards, both literal and figurative, to show for all of the hard work she'd done for years. Headmistress McGonagall had assured her that her N.E.W.T.S. had been extraordinary and, to Hermione's embarrassment, had promised to use many of the young woman's essays as teaching examples for years to come. So she'd said goodbye to the place where some of the best years, and scariest moments, of her life had taken place and purchased a new flat.

"I really don't know what I would do without you all!" They were all sitting in her new flat then: Ginny, Harry, and Ron. A box of pizza sat open on the floor in front of them, she'd ordered from a muggle shop and picked it up before they'd come over, and were all sitting with their backs leaning against the piles of moving boxes—except for Ginny, who sat between Harry's legs with her back against his front and a satisfied grin on her face as he every so often tapped his fingers on the shining engagement ring on her finger.

"You'd have to move on your own, that's what, and my back would be grateful for that." Ron was half joking but Ginny tossed a piece of pepperoni at him for his sass which ignited a short-lived round of sibling bickering that Hermione hadn't really missed. Ginny had graduated with her only two weeks ago and in that short time of their returning the group had fallen into their same old rhythm of friendly banter that was familiar to them before the war.

"Well," Hermione huffed after she had finished her slice of pizza, "either way I really appreciate the help. This would be a nightmare project without magic, I really can't imagine how we ever managed without it."

"We didn't." Ron snorted through a mouthful of food.

"Charming, you prat." His sister spoke with true disgust and he opened his mouth to reveal his semi-chewed pizza.

"Ugh! What's wrong with you?" Again, they broke off into a spat and Hermione made resigned eye contact with an annoyed looking Harry. Contentment in his green eyes outshined the dark circles of exhaustion beneath them, but still he looked rather bothered by his fiancé squirming about in his lap to shove her fingers in Ron's face. Harry had kept her as updated as he could through letters about his position as an Auror for the ministry, most of what he said was too vague to be informative but she appreciated the gesture none the less. Ron had become an Auror as well, but he looked significantly less exhausted than his raven-haired counterpart and that thought truly worried Hermione.

"Alright, I've had enough! One of you will have to floo home if you can't even eat in peace!" Exasperation dripped heavy in her voice and she could feel herself growing flushed as both Weasleys stopped their argument to turn their glares onto her. Mumbled apologies met her ears and she nodded mutely as Harry quickly switched the topic to Ginny's upcoming try-out with the Harpies; it really did bother Hermione that she had to mother the group so much, her voices' likeness to Molly's when she had to scold the two of them bothered her more than their actual arguing did.

Eventually, Hermione was left alone in her brand new flat quite overwhelmed with the emptiness of the place. Harry and Ginny had returned to Grimmauld Place, where he had proposed only a week ago in the attic (which Ginny swore was a lot more romantic and a lot less dusty than it sounded) and they currently stayed until about ten at night when Ginny would head back to the Burrow to the great relief of her parents. They'd left with hugs and Harry's murmured, "We're all really proud of, 'Mione" had left her teary eyed. Ron had disappeared off to Diagon Alley to speak with George, the two had grown incredibly close in the past year and Ron was between living in the flat above George's shop and back home at the Burrow. All in all, Hermione was left feeling a tad lonelier than she had planned.

With the help of her friends, Hermione had all of the furniture set up in the quaint one bedroom, one bath flat. It was a rather pricey buy not far from the Ministry so it was on the smaller side, but cozy enough for her and Crookshanks to share. She'd purchased furniture in muggle London ("Why don't you just transfigure your school trunks?" Ron had complained as he helped Harry float her bedframe up the tight staircase of the building) and Ginny had charmed the walls in warm shades of creams, yellows, and whites. Hermione was rather pleased with how they'd gotten the place set up all in a day, but the amount of unpacking was rather daunting after a long day of moving so she turned instead to her work.

At nearly midnight, only eight hours before she had to head into the Daily Prophet in the morning, she found herself snuggled in her white coverlet with Crookshanks on the pillow beside her as Hermione read her mail. The Daily Prophet had asked her, upon Minerva's recommendation, to be in charge of their new advice column which they had granted Hermione permission to title. Dear Jane was advertised and accepting letters when she had graduated and although Hermione felt a tad overwhelmed with being in charge of advice with what she insisted was very little life experience, the Daily Prophet had insisted that her logic-based thought process was just what the column needed.

Most of the letters were rather trite and predictable, Hermione felt herself formulating responses about dumping men who cheated, trying to make peace with mother-in-laws who nagged (had Fleur written that one?), and husbands who no longer noticed their wives ("a sit down talk is much more effective than attempting to ignite jealousy, no matter how wanton for attention you may be" she had written with a roll of her eyes), but there had been one that caught her attention and caused her to set it to the side. Hermione had no response to this person's letter quite yet and that was rather surprising to her as she realized if she had been speaking to this man she would have been left speechless. It was an incredibly personal letter, written with exceptional penmanship in navy blue ink, and Hermione set it to the side with a feeling of unease—perhaps tomorrow she would find words to answer that particular letter. With her responses filed and in her purse to be brought into the office in the morning, Hermione Granger set her head upon her pillow in her brand new, empty, eerily quiet flat, and attempted sleep as the words of the letter swam in her head:

Dear Miss Jane,

The pleasure of this anonymous acquaintance is all mine, truly. Recently divorced and quite ready to begin anew in life I flesh out this question for you: What advice do you give a wizard who fought on the wrong side of the war as he steps into the role of bachelor for the first time in thirty years? Surely, my son would be of no help in this area…Yet still, the Ministry has made it possible for my kind to reestablish ourselves back into society, but the question of forgiveness is one that hangs heavily in my heart. Is it possible to rise from the ashes amongst those I myself have torched down for decades? Does a wizard who has committed so many sins deserve a chance at reacquainting himself with happiness? Are there witches who could accept a wizard who has [here the word "lost" was scratched through just once] failed in all aspects of his long life? Tell me, Miss Jane, is there hope for a man who once sought to destroy the hope of an entire race of witches and wizards?

Despairingly,

The Fallen One

No, Hermione told herself as she rolled over once more, she would not take this letter as an invitation to fix yet another person's life in any more detail than what was required of her. But still, the question burned in her head as she struggled into a fitful sleep, who could possibly have written this eloquent letter to her? And what on Earth could she answer? The Prophet had struck up this column in an attempt to raise the hope and spirits of its readers while also offering an outlet for support for those who had none others to turn to. What was she to say to a man who obviously spoke of hating muggleborns and fighting fiercely on the side of war she once told herself she had no sympathy for? Was there hope for this soul? Did she believe he deserved hope? The questions were endless and when she awoke in the morning with a loud yawn and thick stretch of her muscles, Hermione had a feeling the questions weren't going to flee and eventually her own stubbornness would force out an answer but for now she had to get herself to work.

Thanks for reading! I hope to hear from a few readers on what you're thinking and what you believe could be improved upon! Happy reading :)