I'm beta-less; any mistakes are mine, and mine alone. All recognized characters/etc. belong to JK Rowling. Also, if you're reading this, HI! I hope you enjoy it. :)
Please, let me know what you liked/didn't like!
"What the bloody hell were you thinking!?" Ron yelled in shock once they all apparated back home.
Hermione stood there blankly, on the brink of a panic attack. "I don't know. Oh my gods. I don't know. What did I just do?" She looked up at her husband with wide eyes, "Ron, WHAT DID I JUST DO?"
"Well," chimed Harry, mischievously,"it appears you've just dramatically quit your job." He grinned at his best friends as he moved to sit on the biggest of the two couches, still holding a 2-year-old Hugo in his arms and the hand of a 4-year-old Rose.
"In the middle of the atrium," added Ron, starting to see the humor in the situation. He slowly guided his distressed wife to the unoccupied couch and settled down into it with her.
Harry tried not to let Hermione see him laugh, "At peak rush hours."
"In front of the Minister." Ron chuckled as he pulled a stuffed hippogriff out from the cushions he was sitting on and tossed it over.
Harry grabbed the hippogriff, just before it hit an oblivious Hugo in the face, and handed it to the toddler. "And your kids," he said, winking at Rose.
Hermione tried to control her breathing so as not to hyperventilate. "Do you think I can get my job back?"
"Do you want your job back?" Harry tilted his head in confusion.
"Mione," Ron sat up straight and turned to Hermione, watching as she gripped onto the couch cushions. "Contrary to what my childhood self thought, you don't freak out for no reason. You've been becoming more and more unhappy with how that department is being run ever since Amos Diggory stepped down and Helen Dawlish became the new Head... that was 3 years ago. You were bound to snap sooner or later with how often Dawlish antagonizes you."
"You're right." Hermione sighed, "I logically know you're right. Right? But what if you're wrong?" She stood up, pulse racing, and began pacing.
"Hermione, stop." Harry watched as Rose tried to help Hugo get down carefully, so they could play on the floor. He shook his head when he noticed that Hermione continued to pace around the room.
"Maybe I could just explain that I've been sick." Hermione unconsciously picked up her son, placed him on the floor with his sister, handed them another toy that was nearby, and immediately resumed pacing back and forth. "We visited muggle London last week, maybe I caught a muggle cold."
"Mione, c'mon." Ron tried to interrupt what was quickly becoming another panic attack.
Not hearing him, she continued, "And since I'm a witch, it's making me act even loopier than a muggle would. I'll just apologize to Director Dawlish-"
"Mummy!" Rose yelled from her spot on the floor with her brother.
"Mummy!" Mimicked Hugo, laughingly.
Hermione stopped, startled. She turned and crouched down next to the kids. "Yes, loves?"
"Daddy's firing your work papers." Rose pointed to her dad who was methodically taking all of Hermione's hated, unfinished projects and tossing them into the activated floo.
Hermione twirled around and stared at her husband in shock. "Ronald Weasley, what do you think you're doing!?"
"Hermione Weasley," Ron matched her tone, while he continued to toss her paperwork through to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. He smirked at a snickering Harry. "I am helping you since your brain is clearly overwhelmed."
"I am not overwhelmed." She crossed her arms in front of her chest as she bit her lip in an agitated manner. "I'm just trying to think it through."
Ron sat back on his heels and stared disbelievingly at Hermione. "No. You're trying to convince yourself to go be miserable at work again. You and Dawlish hate each other."
"I do not hate her,"
Ron and Harry blinked simultaneously, glanced at each other, and then slowly turned back to Hermione with their eyebrows raised in total disbelief.
Heat rushed to her cheeks as she stuttered out, "W-well. Maybe... Maybe I dislike her." She glanced at their still incredulous expressions and jutted her chin out. "Maybe I dislike her a little bit more than normal."
"Two days ago, at lunch, you compared her to Skeeter," Harry noted. His expression turned smug as she glared at him.
Ron's eyes widened. "Skeeter?! The same bug that you once kept in a jar?!"
"She had air holes!" Hermione defended.
"Well this just proves it. Skeeter is only hated less than Moldyshorts and Umbit-" he caught himself, noticing in relief that his kids weren't paying attention. "Umbridge. You can't go back. You were completely miserable. Mione, please, I'm begging you. I hate watching you do that to yourself."
Hermione's demeanor softened slightly. "What am I going to do?"
"Whatever you want to. We have no expectations for you. We never needed the money of us both having a job. We each made enough to support us independently, not including the payout from the war." He shrugged, "you can take a break, if you want to. You can start a whole new ministry department, if that's how you want to spend your time."
"Or you can write a book!" Harry interjected with a laugh. He held up an imaginary book, pretending to read the title. "Through War and Life: The Hermione Granger-Weasley Story."
Hermione rolled her eyes and let out a short laugh, as she sat down next to her children.
"Mummy!" Shouted Rose, having tuned back into the conversation. "I know what you can do!"
"What do you think, Rosie?" Ron asked curiously.
"You can play with me and brother all day!" Rose stated confidently, hugging her mom.
Hermione's whole face brightened. "You know, baby, I just might do that for a while."
Harry and Ron shared a knowing glance and smiled.