"The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began,
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say"
- J.R.R Tolkein

16 July, 2003, 1 pm
Small café, Diagon Alley

"Herny dop eeding" Ron forced past his a huge bite of his burger.
Hermione rolled her eyes at him, agitatedly folding her copy of the Daily Prophet and stabbing at her salad angrily, "I just think that something about odd" she spat out, glaring.
"Hey, Hermione" said Harry, smiling his easy smile across the table at her, "Relax, they say its a fluke, some disease, or something. Don't worry about it"

Hermione sighed. Contrary to expectations, Harry had recovered quickly from the war. Within a year, he had married his teenage love, and had two lovely red-haired twins on the way. Similarly, Ron never seemed to understand why Hermione was still waking up in a cold sweat six months after the final battle, one of the many factors catalysing their return to friendship. She suppressed a shudder, wondering how she had managed to harbour romantic feelings for the red haired man across the table. As much as she loved him, it was painfully clear now, so many year later, that they were never going to be a good match. That she was still jumping at black cloaks, so many years later, while he led his anxiety free life, merely cemented the matter in her mind. She jumped back to the present with the sound of apparition outside, not able to stop her fingers twitching towards her wand, not missing the worried glance her friends cast at each other. As much as Hermione tried to hide it, she suspected that they knew that she still hadn't recovered from the stress of the war five years before. Still, she still had learned to trust her intuition, and she couldn't bring herself to let this go so easily.

"Isn't it strange though, every single basilisk, gone, overnight." she insisted.
Having finally finished his gargantuan mouthful, Ron snorted. "Who cares? Good riddance, I say", he said, glancing at Harry to share a 'I don't get it' look.
She sighed, "I know they're not the loveliest of creatures" she admitted, "but they can be useful, remember?"
As soon as she glanced at Harry she knew she shouldn't have said it, a knowing look spreading across his features as he reached for her hand.
"The war is over, Hermy" he said, forcing what she knew was supposed to be a reassuring smile, but she could see the worry behind his eyes.

Suddenly irrationally angry, Hermione stood up, throwing down her napkin. "I need to get back to work" she muttered by way of explanation, throwing an apologetic smile at the boys before turning towards the fireplace. Grasping a pinch of the glittery powder she announced "St Mungo's" to the flames, secretly hoping for an outbreak of dragon pox to keep her quarantined and busy for at least a couple of days.

20 July, 2003, 3am
On-call room, St Mungo's Hospital of Magical Maladies

"Wake up, Ms. Granger, wake up!" exclaimed the magical pager attached to her belt. It had been Hermione's idea to introduce the pagers to the hospital, rather than having to have people sprinting up and down the stairs every time there was an emergency. That didn't mean that she didn't often fantasise about cursing hers into oblivion, especially when she was on call. Groaning, she rolled out of the sterilised bed, sending it a wistful glance as she headed towards the door. Glancing at her watch she realised she had only managed about half an hour of sleep.

"Where am I headed, Alexis?" Hermione addressed the menace sitting on her hip as she hurried down the stairs

"Sunday 3 am? Where else but the first floor?" quipped the purple box. Hermione sighed. The first floor was for "Artefact Accidents", and she had already been down there three times tonight; for the wizard equivalent of a mechanical bull which somehow had managed to gore three people, a disco ball that had spun so fast it caused the roof of the wizarding club to collapse around it and an embarrassed young couple that had somehow managed to insert rememberalls into various orifices. Hermione shuddered remembering the last.

"If it's another rememberall incident I am writing to the ministry again to complain about the lack of sexual education at Hogwarts" she grumbled to her pager, which vibrated consolingly against her hipbone. Thankfully, the sight that greeted her when she barged into the first floor ICU was not a blushing young man or woman, but Harry's familiar smiling face, surrounded by several aurors she recognised as his co-workers.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, surprised, "What happened?" she asked, quickly crossing the floor to stand in front of the bed he was sitting on. However, Harry merely giggled and pressed his finger to her nose, which caused an appreciative chorus of snickering from those around him. Amused, Hermione glanced at the nurse who was trying not to burst into laughter at the clearly befuddled celebrity in front of her.

"Somebody broke into the war museum" the nurse said by way of explanation, "When the aurors got there something was booby trapped, we think it's some kind of magical concussion." she grinned at Hermione.

"Well that's easily remedied," Hermione replied gladly, waving her wand to send all those afflicted into a deep sleep to allow their brains to recover, "Why would someone break into the war museum?" she questioned as she worked.

"Apparently they stole the sword of Gryffindor" replied the nurse, moving around the room and settling the slumbering witches and wizards into their beds. "You should see if you can get some more shut-eye, it's been a hell of a night, especially with those rememberalls" she shuddered.

Hermione smiled in return, and headed back up the stairs. However, the niggling worry that always sat in the back of her mind was taking advantage of her exhaustion to make itself vocal. First the basilisks, and now the sword of Gryffindor? It was as if somebody was deliberately eliminating all of the artefacts capable of destroying very dark objects, such as horcruxes. Sighing, Hermione settled into bed. She knew that Harry would tell her that she was being paranoid, and Ron would mock her for it, but she couldn't help but wrap her hand around her wand stuffed under her pillow before drifting off to sleep.

25 July, 2003, 8:30 pm
Hermione's home, outskirts of London

Harry leaned back in his chair, a satisfied sigh leaving his lips, grinning at Hermione across the table.

"Honestly Hermy, sometimes I think your cooking is better than Mum's!" exclaimed Ron, taking a third serving of melting bombe alaska from the plate in the centre of the table. Hermione rolled her eyes across the table at Ginny.

"Don't let her hear you say that, Ronald, or she won't be cooking your favourite treacle tart for a long time" Ginny teased her brother. Ron paused in his demolition of the dessert and paled visibly, causing everyone to break into laughter at the look on his face.

"We won't tell her, mate, don't worry" Harry reassured him, as the girls struggled to get their laughter under control, when he was cut off by a high pitched wailing sound.

Hermione froze in her spot, hand immediately to her wand. Ron didn't even look up, and the Potter's exchanged exasperated glances across the table at each other. With a tap of her wand Hermione ceased the wailing, and made to leave the table when she noticed the disappointed look from her best friend across the table.

"I thought that you said you would stop using the caterwauling charm" Ginny reminded her slowly, looking to her husband for support.

"Hermione, don't worry about it. It was probably just a cat, sit back down and finish your dessert" he suggested sternly. Hermione smiled apologetically at him before slipping outside to see what tripped her wards. With a quick non-verbal spell she lit her wand and held it high, shadows dancing across her bare backyard. Casting a couple of revealing spells, she found nothing, which was odd. The new caterwauling charm was set off only to alert her if something with malicious intent towards her crossed the boundary - a cat wouldn't have set it off. Like any animals ever came near to her house, with Crookshanks around. Where was Crookshanks anyway? Glancing around the garden Hermione noticed his collar sitting in the middle of the lawn. She made to walk towards it but a shiver ran down her spine, and she suddenly very much wanted to be back under shelter.

She re-cast the caterwauling charm, hurrying back to the back door when she heard voices inside. She paused before she entered, knowing she shouldn't but having a sinking feeling that she already knew what they were discussing.

"It's ridiculous Harry! The war has been over for years Harry. There hasn't been a single racist crime for almost eighteen month. You're far too accepting of these 'habits' she has." Ginny was angrily saying "It's not healthy!" she concluded dramatically.

Hermione heard Harry sighing like he hadn't since when Ron left them during the war, "She just needs some time Ginny. I'll talk to her about it before next week, see if we can get her to relax at the party a bit, okay?" he said, sounding defeated. "I still think you're overreacting a bit."

There was a pause, and Hermione was sure her eavesdropping had been noticed, until "Don't look at me, mate" Ron added, sounding defensive. "I'm with Gin all the way on this one, and we better shut up about it, she'll be back soon." When had Ronald become so perceptive, wondered Hermione. But the idea vanished when she heard him conclude "and pass me her dessert. If she doesn't want it then I do."

Hermione smiled as she returned to her friends, enjoying the normalcy of their relationships. Still, while she hated she was causing them to worry, she couldn't quell the uneasy feeling in the bottom of her stomach. Where had Crooks got to? She shook her head, trying to get the thought out of her head. Distracting her mind, she thought about Ginny. It was strange how worked up she was getting about her actions - she knew that previously she had found them quite comforting, compared to Harry's recklessness. She would need to have a chat to her about them when she got the chance.

Sitting back down, Hermione snatched back the bowl of ice-cream and meringue from her friend.

"Mine" she growled, grinning at him, and digging into her favourite dessert, "or I'll tell Molly what you said about her cooking."