She kept clutching her wand so tightly in her fist that her knuckles hurt in her heavy cloak's pocket. Her hood was hiding her entire face, but her eyes kept darting everywhere in the shadows. Hermione knew that, deep down, her soul was no longer as blank as parchment, darkness had stained it through. But she kept walking, clutching at the stick of wood between her fingers, a spell on the tip of her tongue. She no longer was the Hermione Granger she used to be. And so be it.

Voldemort was dead, but the resurrection stone was still. The threat it had cast upon their post-war world had made Hermione reconsider her entire life. The stone had been found by Crabbe senior, who was fleeing by the forbidden forest at the end of the final battle. The transfiguration Harry had performed on it had worn off after he had been hit with Voldemort's Avada Kedavra. Crabbe hadn't known what it was, up until, so upset by his son's death, he had somehow found out how to bring his offspring back. Vincent Crabbe had been an easy arrest though. Not the brightest wizard. The both of them. The news had only come to ears of the auror's office about a year after Hogwarts had been rebuilt, and when Hermione was already deep in her healer's training at Mungo's. She had yet again dropped everything to go back to Harry and Ron and start the auror training her dear friends had already burried themselves in. She had caught up fast as expected. The Auror office had been calling for new trainees as they had feared the stone would be used to bring back Voldemort. Until now it had only been used a few times, and it had already broken havoc on the ministry. Greyback had returned, and been captured, with great difficulty, as had Nott senior, among few others.

Fortunately one could only bring back someone they loved, which also disturbingly meant someone had loved that Greyback monster. And if the stone came in Bellatrix's hands … A shiver made its way down her spine at the thought. But no, Bellatrix was securely locked up in a cell in Azkaban, and had received the kiss, all they risked was a colony of angry death eaters coming back and an unknown snake lover that would manage to bring back the darkest wizard of all times. Nothing that frightening.

Two years after she had changed path, they were nowhere nearer to know where the stone was but Hermione was well trained and equally exhausted. So she kept walking determinedly out of Knockturn Alley, quietly, thanks to a slightly modified silencio on her muggle sneakers. She turned right and then left and ended up in the safer air of Diagon alley. She hurried her pace in the empty street at this late hour. Once safely against a corner of Gringott's she finally disapparated home. She hadn't wanted to draw attention on her, creeping in dark corners of Knockturn alley, and alerting suspects that they were spied on with the loud pop that disapparating made.

She apparated directly in her living room, and after a brief second of noise or broken-ward checking, she finally released the grip on her wand. Searching through her pockets she retrieved a single golden coin that she tapped with the tip of her wand, thinking hard about their password. Harry, Ron, Neville, Dean, and surprisingly Lavender had a similar one, very much alike their AD's coins, but much more sophisticated. Lavender had been saved from Greyback by Ginny, who had thrown an horrific and angry spell at the death eater who had died breaking his neck against the wall he had been blown into. However "saved" was a strange word when referring to Lavender. She was half werewolf now, and disfigured. Long gone was the clingy boy-crushing girl that called Ron Won-Won. She had joined them the day the news of Greyback's return had been announced publicly in the daily prophet. And she had caught him, alongside Neville and Ron. She was a great auror, despite a really bad temper that got triggered by barely anything. Hermione preferred from far the new Lavender.

She put the coin on her small dining table, she just had to wait for the call now. Sighing, she discarded her cloak on the sofa and made her way to the bathroom. With a flick of her wand she turned the tap on, and took off her big woollen sweater, making muffled and frustrated sounds when the thing just didn't come off of her face. Throwing the damn piece of clothing on the floor carelessly, and regretting it instantly, she made her way to the tap and splashed her face with warm water before roughly drying it with a towel. Her eyes fell on the ugly scar that marked her left forearm. Mudblood. Funny how this word, which had brought up a war, still didn't mean much to her, same as the first time she'd heard Malfoy say it. It had no meaning, and yet she despised it on her skin, for it reminded her of everything she'd been through during the war. It had faded, but was there nonetheless, as much as the dark mark must still be on Malfoy's arm. This thought lifted her spirit a bit. He was as branded as she now. Except she was respected for her scars, he was ostracised. She realised she'd turn bitter. That scar might be less of a burden than the dark mark but it remained a similar ugly and awful reminder of torture and death, that made her swallow back bile from time to time.

The cracking noise of fire from floo-calling made her snap back to reality, her gloomy thoughts evaporated instantly. She turned off the useless tap, frowning at the waste of water, and picked up her sweater from the floor. She still had a bit of the old Hermione Granger in her after all. Harry's head was shouting her name nervously between the green flames when she finally emerged from the bathroom.

"I'm here! Calm down!"

"You weren't a minute ago." Said Harry's head frowning disapprovingly.

"I sent for a non urgent call Harry. Could have waited until morning and you know it. Stop worrying."

"All right, I overreacted a bit but I won't stop worrying after ..." He started angrily.

"I haven't been targeted in months Harry, no one seems to recognize me since I changed my hair." Apparently bushy-hair meant Potter's mudblood for ex-death eaters. So she had it tamed, shortened and coloured. Now she was a dark-blond-short-slightly-curly-haired young woman. Her features must be really boring for no one ever recognized her any more.

"Right." He didn't seem happy about it though, and she knew he was only complying to stop the up-coming argument, but that in his office, his arms were crossed over his chest. Stubborn hero-complexed little boy.

"Yes Harry, right. Quit the attitude." He sighed but his face softened a bit. He knew perfectly well how stubborn she could be, and he didn't live up to her.

"So ?" He reluctantly asked.

"So nothing much, might have a lead from that old quill vendor, who apparently doesn't sell only quills but modified ink that can explode depending on which word you write, among other illegal things."

"Should send a note to Arthur about that."

"After I'm through his buyers though, I might find something there."

"'Course. I'll see if I can find some background on the owner."

"Right."

"Is that all then?"

"Yes, I'll see you in the morning Harry."

"Night Mione." He smiled fondly at her, worry only wrinkling his eyebrows now.

"Night Harry." And with a burst of flames his head was gone. Poor Ginny, she thought, her boyfriend was always sleeping at the office, nothing had changed for her after the war.

Exhaustion caught up with Hermione quite quickly after that, and she suddenly felt the weight of this really long day fall on her shoulders. She only wanted to collapse in bed. She didn't even take a shower and headed straight to her tiny bedroom, put her pyjamas on, and with great reluctance, which was quite out of character for THE Hermione bookworm know-it-all Granger, sat down at her desk to write the report she would have to bring to work in the morning. Kingsley, now head of their department, having resigned from PM since the stone issue, was quite strict with paperwork. He knew perfectly well that the golden trio and their friends never ended up following a plan, and he always required really detailed reports. So she worked, precisely, minutely, on her report, yawning loudly every minute or so. She always did or redid everyone else's reports, but the task was no longer as appealing to her as it had been during her school days, it was just plain boring now. She lacked the purpose. In school she'd had exams to think about, as a goal, during her seventh year the demise of Tom Riddle was all she'd been able to think about, and during training, both for healer and auror, she'd had her job in mind. Now, those reports seemed useless, only Kingsley read them, and even if he was a great head of department, her only goal was to take the stone back from Voldemort's sympathisers, not write twenty foot of scroll about how she walked silently down Knockturn alley.

She finished around three am, feeling irritated and completely worn, she only had a few hours of sleep left before work and fell blissfully into darkness as soon as she hit the pillow.

Pansy Parkinson was no longer a self-righteous bitch, thank you very much. She wondered why in hell everyone kept calling her that. All right she had been the one loudly expressing her will to deliver Potter to the dark Lord before the final battle, but still, she was no longer that stupid and self-centred teenager. She was a refined, rich and pretty young woman, who could dress like a goddess. And she, even if it no longer meant anything apparently, was a pure-blooded skilled witch for Salazar's sake. Then why in hell would Draco Malfoy only give her disgusted looks and keep refusing her advances? His family had fallen as hard as hers after the war, and put aside the strong lust she felt towards him, their union would bring back some long lost prestige for the both of them. Still, he kept rejecting her, dismissing her pleas, and pretty much ignoring her owls. She had had enough. She was going to owl him one last time and she'd be through with him. After all Zabini's were in the same situation, according to her father, and she had heard that Blaise was still single.

"Self-righteous bitch!" Draco mumbled indistinctly for several minutes after crumpling the hundredth letter Pansy Parkinson had sent his way. That pug-nosed slut had never understood how repulsed she made him feel. Even after the war, and his multiple attempts to redeem himself from his wrongs, she could still not see why he didn't want anything to do with her self-absorbed and prejudiced person. Don't get yourself mistaken, Draco was still very much himself, but at least now he understood why it would have been far better for him to die instead of taking that horrific mark that still sat on his left forearm. For that, if slightly faded, ugly monstrosity kept glowering at him every time he laid eyes on it. It would also have avoided him owing a life debt to Potter. Because yes, the boy who lived twice, seemed to think that, because he had saved Draco from fiendfyre, and bared witness at his trial, he could ask for favours every time his office was at a dead end.

And today was one of those days. After Pansy's letter, he opened Potter's. Apparently one of his aurors had a lead from a vendor in Knockturn alley, and since his family business owned the shop, scarhead asked if Draco could look things up for him. It would avoid suspicious aurors wandering around the shop. It would mostly reduce Potter's workload. Lazy bastard.

Of course Draco would comply, he worked for the ministry now, at the magical international cooperation department and didn't really had a choice anyway. Between that and his father's company, which he owned now and had rebuilt from scratch with his own hands, Draco had a lot to do on a daily basis. Taking care of Potter's paperwork and research for him was a tremendous pain in the arse.

Quite irritated and close to a mental breakdown this early in the morning, Draco sat back at his desk and opened the second drawer. He looked through his company register and found the little shop Potter had asked for. Two switches of his wand later and the complete file on the shop was summoned to his desk. Another twist and a silent copying spell later and he was kneeling in front of his fireplace, floo-calling Potter's office. The only reason he was able to do such a thing, was that the manor, which had been inspected from dungeons to attic a hundred times, had such ancient and strong wards that it was safe enough to link to the ministry's floo network.

Potter was sitting at his desk, head in hands, surrounded by scattered papers all over the wooden piece of furniture, apparently fast asleep. Asleep. The lazy bastard was asleep.

"POTTER!" Draco yelled and happily smiled as the dark-haired auror startled.

"Malfoy." Said scarhead greeted him through clenched teeth.

"Here, everything on the little shop you asked about. Didn't look through it though. I actually have a job I can't afford to sleep through." Draco threw the file on Potter's office floor and ended the call before the bastard could even think of an answer.

Harry pestered incoherently for a good minute before he finally grabbed the file the ferret had just thrown on his office floor. Sometimes he wondered why he had bothered avoiding Azkaban to the git and his mother. Then he'd calm down and tell himself that he had done so because it had been the right thing to do at the time. Ferret or not. And that as annoying and pretentious as he was, Malfoy was trustworthy and had always been helpful. He scanned quickly through the file and, thinking it was indeed the dead end he had predicted, sent it to Hermione's office hoping, and actually knowing, she would read it whole, and that maybe she'd find something in it. Rubbing his face he stood and went to grab a cup of well deserved coffee from the coffee witch downstairs. Kingsley was insistent that he stayed at work these days, being trained to become head of the department after him and all. He strode back slowly to his floor nursing a cup of steaming coffee, deep in thoughts, and literally bumped into Ron on his way out of the lift.

"Wha ?!" Said a shoulder rubbing Ron before recognition hit his eyes.

"Sorry Ron."

"Slept here eh? Ginny ain't gonna be too pleased with ya mate."

"I know. I'll be home tonight. Tell her will you?"

"Afraid to call her?"

"No offence but she looks like your mum when she's angry and I'm too tired to face it now."

"Ah ah none taken. All right I'll tell her. If you ask Mione to go over me report, seems a bit lame."

Harry was still debating whether he preferred his girlfriend's or his best friend's wrath when Hermione's disapproving voice caught his ear.

Hermione couldn't believe they'd exchange what they sure felt was chores, on hers and Ginny's behalf.

"I'll look at your report Ron if you go home now, you've spent the night on intervention already. And Harry? Call Ginny."

Both now grown men looked guiltily at their best friend. Years went by but some things just never changed. Hermione probed her hands on her hips and the boys immediately walked away to their assigned tasks. She grabbed Ron's report on his desk and sighed angrily when she realised he'd done close to nothing, and that she was going to have to redo it entirely. Once at her desk she finished to read the dead end file Harry had sent her from Malfoy inc. and sighed once more when she hadn't found anything remotely engaged in the dark arts at all. Her persistent gut feeling kept telling her there was something wrong with this shop but there was nothing there. She sighed again, rubbing the bridge of her nose. It was all she seemed to be doing lately, sigh desperately. Enough was enough. She sent the file back to Harry's office with a note saying "none." and decided to just drop the matter and send Arthur Weasley a note to investigate the shop for illegal magical object alteration. He had moved department since the war, but secretly kept a firm eye on all muggle things behind his dear wife's back.

Hermione needed a fresh start. She was contemplating the memory of a nice and warm chair in a corner of Hogwarts' library, when Lavender came bursting in her office. The door opened with a loud bang that made her jump and a torn faced Lavender came in panting.

"Explosion in muggle London, witnesses said they saw Rodolphus Lestrange!"

"He's dead. OH!" Hermione jumped to her feet, so horrified that her wand sent sparks for a second. "But who?" She asked lamely. Lavender didn't have time to answer that Kingsley, with a wide-eyed Harry at his heels, arrived running.

"We're on alert! Rabastan Lestrange escaped Azkaban and didn't waste a second. His brother is on the loose and no doubt he will try and attend his wife."

"We can't let that happen." Said Hermione firmly.

"Exactly, Hermione I need you here for coordination, Harry call back Ronald, Lavender Azkaban now, Dean and Neville are waiting for you there." Lavender and Harry were off the next second and Hermione was left staring at Kingsley.

"The situation has been contained in muggle London and I have talked to the muggle PM already but I need you to make a quick appearance for the daily prophet now Hermione, then before joining us at Azkaban I want you to tell Creevey to keep the trainings up, they stay here just in case."

"All right." Colin was head of the trainees and taking his duty very seriously, she just hoped he didn't get carried away when he heard that he was in charge of the department for the day.

Narcissa Malfoy tried to contain her mortification. The mudblood, that her sister had tortured in this very room during the war, was on the front page of the daily prophet this morning. Once she had recovered from the lack of taste the girl presented, horror had taken her. Her brother in law and his own seemingly twisted brother were on the loose again. Free. The aurors were in over their heads apparently, for Kingsley had fled directly to Azkaban and left the mudblood take care of the communication. An escaped Rabastan and a resurrected Rodolphus were not something she would take lightly. This could mean a great number of monstrous things. The wards were strong at the manor but she still felt her cool and expressionless mask fall from her delicate features. This was hell. She just hoped that the aurors were not as incompetent as they appeared to be and that they would keep her dear crazy sister in Azkaban. The dark Lord's lover had received the kiss long ago but if Rabastan killed her he could just bring her back from the dead and … and then she'd be as she was years ago and … and then she would bring HIM back … Narcissa almost fainted at the thought. This was hell. Hell on earth trying to punish her for her sins. And her husband was in Azkaban too! And Merlin her son! She stood abruptly but gracefully and made her way to the west wing to her son's study. She heard shouting several corridors before she could even see his door.

"Salazar's fucking beard Potter! I'm in over my head already! Can't she bloody take care of that by herself ? Brightest witch of our age, my arse!"

"She's an auror too Malfoy! We can't waste her brains out on media! We need her on the field with us!"

"I can't believe this! I've been attending meetings for the past bloody day non-stop! International sodding coordination! Now I'm supposed to just show my bloody face? No fucking way."

"This will be good Malfoy. If they see you're in with the ministry …"

"They'll target us! My mother too Potter! I can't afford that!"

"Right. You're right. Shit this is hell! At least come to the offices and work things out with the minister he's just … a bloody useless piece of ..." Shock spread all over Draco's features. His angry and red face dropped and was replaced by sudden shock. Plain wide-eyed shock.

"Did you just insulted your precious prime minister? You golden boy?"

"Oh bugger off Malfoy! He's got this position only because he's compliant enough to listen to us and Kingsley was needed elsewhere. Quit the attitude ferret it's nothing new." Potter's face was the painting of exhaustion and he seemed on the edge of breaking down. His scar glowered in contrast of his too pale face and his eyes were circled with purplish marks. Draco wondered if he had underestimated the amount of pressure the country's hero was under.

"Okay. I'll be on my way." Relief took scarhead's face.

"Thanks Malfoy, I owe you." He seemed to regret saying that the second the words escaped his mouth, and quickly added, with a faint sadistic smile: "Hermione will be waiting for you in my office then." And his head just disappeared, the green flames with it.

"Can't believe that little piece of scum would send her …"

Draco was still trying to find the most horrific insults to describe Harry Potter when his mother entered his home office without knocking. He shut his mouth the instant. To anyone else, Narcissa Malfoy would appear perfectly put together, but Draco knew she must have seen the paper. Her brows were a little more furrowed than usual and her shoulders almost imperceptibly tensed.

"You've seen?"

"Yes Draco. Are the wards … ?"

"I've reinforced them yesterday, and they couldn't come here before, it's the safest place on earth mother."

"Right."

"I …"

"Have to go, I know."

"Do you want me to call Blaise to …"

"No dear. Don't bother your friend over me. If you say I'll be safe, then I'll be."

"You will mother." Draco knew better than to listen to her words though. He would call Blaise and he and his grand-mother could stay at the Manor for a while. They had too many guests rooms anyway.

"All right then. I'll be downstairs, come say goodbye before you go."

"I will." She then slowly left the room, her shoulders still tensed. Draco called Blaise once he could no longer hear her footsteps from the long corridor.

His best friend was a great business man. He had gone in hiding with his grand-mother during the war, and had come back even richer. How he managed, when all he seemed to be doing was drink and shag, Draco didn't know. But he was most importantly an impressive wizard and Draco couldn't leave his mother alone with such a threat, even in the safest place on hearth.

"Heard the news?" Draco asked as soon as he could see his friend, his neck twisted at an odd angle.

"Fuck yes, was about to call actually." Blaise put down the glass of firewhiskey he had just downed and stood up to get closer to his fireplace.

"Come stay here then."

"Worried over mummy?"

"Yes."

"All right then, I'll fetch the old lady and I'll be on my way." Draco nodded before ending the call without further small talk.

Urgency. Draco hated it. It reminded him of his sixth year at Hogwarts. That awful year. Shoving the thought aside Draco prepared a small suitcase, shrank it and shoved it in his cloaks pocket. Then he went to the drawing room to wait for Blaise and his grand-mother. He would shut all floo communications once gone. He'll just drop by when he got time to make sure everything was all right. The wards only allowed him and his mother to apparate to the Manor which felt like a very good thing at the moment.