I've been reading some great HP fics lately, but there hasn't been enough that cover the lives of Harry, Ron, Hermione and their families, IMO. I will be posting a new chapter weekly. This fic will have 3 chapters and then there will be multiple installments. I hope you enjoy and please feel free to DM with suggestions for other fics to read. Also, please review and follow if you're up for it!
2001 – Three years following the Battle of Hogwarts
It all started as a normal day for Hermione Granger. After waking up, she fed Crookshanks, her enormous orange cat, and mentally prepared herself for the day while applying her makeup and attempting to corral her naturally frizzy mane. And, as she always did on days like these, pressed a kiss to her fingers and touched the picture of her fiancé.
The picture was from when they were still at Hogwarts and was obviously taken without the pair's knowledge at the time. Her busy hair was in full force and his freckles were in plain sight. But they were just looking at each other, smiling and laughing. It was from their sixth year, his final at school, before they both went gallivanting off with their other best friend to do nothing less than defeat the worst dark wizard of all time.
When they found the picture, that friend, Harry, gave them a good tease at how amazing it was that there existed a photograph of the two smiling around each other considering how much they argued that year.
But this was just after his birthday, when he'd been poisoned and had become her Ronald once more.
After a few seconds of allowing herself to be enveloped by nostalgia, she finally let herself tear her vision from the photo and shook herself back into reality. They weren't sixteen anymore. And Voldemort was gone, but Ron was still fighting dark wizards.
He and Harry had just graduated from Auror training nearly seven months ago. They had already gone on three long term missions, but this was the longest by far. The war may have ended three years before, but there were still Death Eaters out there who needed to be brought to justice. While the first three missions had not lasted longer than a week, this time she had not heard from Harry or Ron in a month. Neither had Harry's girlfriend, Ron's sister Ginny, who was handling it the exact same way Hermione was, by throwing herself into work. Ginny was a professional Quidditch player and Hermione always gave a small smile at how Ginny's fouling statistics always seemed to rise in correlation with her boyfriend's missions.
While it brought her some relief that the two boys would be together, it still brought Hermione terror to imagine her two best friends, one of whom being the man she had agreed to marry, being in such danger once more. Every time they went into the field she had to remind herself there would be no saving them as she had been able to do back in those days.
But she had to put it out of her mind. Today was an important day, she was going to try her first trial solo. She was a second-year associate solicitor at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement (or DMLE). This was huge for an associate, but her boss, Bryan MacTavish, told her he had faith she could handle it.
So, with a deep breath, she flooed into the hustle and bustle of the Ministry of Magic. She paid no attention to the chaos surrounding her as she quickly glanced through the briefs one more time. The case was rather simple, but she wanted to nail it. As if on autopilot, she walked to the elevators, waited patiently for her floor, and walked down the long hallway to her office. She only looked up once to the unmarked door, foolishly hoping a silly red headed face would poke through it. When none did, she went back to her paperwork. Engrossed in her thoughts, Hermione opened the door to the solicitors' office but she didn't notice her boss until she walked right into him.
"Sorry!" She cried as the papers in both their hands exploded every which way.
As she reached for her wand, MacTavish beat her to it and with one wave each of their documents had returned to their arms.
"Everything alright, Counselor?" the burly Scotsman asked sincerely as she gathered herself.
Her usually bushy curls had been negotiated into the closest Hermione could get into a professional bun, with flyaways being controlled by an inordinate amount of anti-frizz potion. She patted her head quickly to check its condition to find nothing had yet escaped her efforts.
"Perfectly fine," she answered a bit too quickly. When she saw his knowing look, she refused to give in. Today was too important to lose herself to her worries.
"I'm just glancing through the motions of the case one more time, refining my strategy," she said as they walked to her desk. It was covered in overfilling folders and piles of paperwork, you could hardly see the mahogany underneath. Anyone who knew Hermione Granger knew that it was totally abnormal for her to be quite so disorganized. But, then again, anyone who knew her also knew that if her desk looked like an accounting office after a niffler had gone through it for gold, then when they went into the hallway they'd likely find the Hope Flame burning next to the Aurors' door. The flame would burn until all the Aurors on a mission were brought home, alive or… otherwise. That flame, as of this day, had now been burning for four full weeks, 28 days. And the papers on Counselor Granger's desk were piling up.
"Are you sure you want to do this today, Granger?" Bryan asked quietly.
Hermione looked up and looked around, a few of her colleagues were already at their desks, quietly reading or dictating to their quills. She looked back up to her boss, "Are you questioning my ability to handle this, sir?" she asked tersely.
He took a deep breath, "No one would think less of you if you let someone else take point during the trial today, Hermione. It's been…"
"I know how long it's been," she interjected. Instantly she regretted interrupting and looked her boss in the eye, "Bryan, I'm so sorry, I-…" she closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she thought of what to say, "I need to be able to handle this." Hermione fought the tears, she was better than this. She was Hermione Granger, she had held a piece of Tom Riddle's soul in her hands and destroyed it. She had survived a basilisk, dementors, and Death Eater torture. But this, this unknown that she was experiencing was somehow feeling so much worse. That being said, somewhere she gathered her strength and pushed through, "There will always be another mission," she said quietly.
MacTavish's eyes furrowed, "I'm sorry?"
"This is my life now," Hermione whispered, "He is going to be going on these missions and I will be left to live my life and wait for him to return. If I can't handle this now, I will never be able to handle it." With one more deep breath she looked to him and said, "I'm doing this, sir. And I will not let you down."
He smiled, "Glad to hear it. See you down there in a half hour."
Three hours later, she left the courtroom smiling, she had done brilliantly.
The case was somewhat complicated. The defendant, a wiry witch named Martha Langdom, was accused of trafficking Class C potions materials at her apothecary on Knockturn Alley. It had taken an undercover sting by the DMLE to discover that Langdom was not only trafficking some very serious and dangerous ingredients for potions, but she was also connected to an underground wand production ring. The woman was facing ten years in Azkaban if convicted.
Hermione had felt a great sense of triumph seeing the look on Langdom's face when the prosecution had presented the evidence found in a, previously, quite well-hidden room behind her main sales floor. Unicorn hairs, dragon heartstrings, and two phoenix feathers had been found as well as more unsavory items such as a bone of a house elf and a rubbery substance that she had been later told was likely cut from the tail of a mermaid.
When presented with the evidence Langdom remained defiant, staying silent the entire trial.
The Wizangamot voted unanimously, ten years in Azkaban.
Hermione's favorite moment, however, came as Langdom was being taken away. She was arranging her papers, preparing to return to her office when she looked up and saw the Minister walking towards her. It was still so odd, after everything she had been through with Kingsley Shaklebolt, to act as formally as his position required. This was the man who was the head of government, the pillar of morality and strength in the wizarding community ever since the end of the war. But he was also the man who had fought beside her on multiple occasions against the Death Eaters. He was a mentor and a friend.
"Minister," she acknowledged with a small smile, knowing how much he detested the moniker.
But, being Kingsley, he simply gave off his deep signature laugh and responded in kind, "Counselor. I was quite impressed by the work you did on this case. Outstanding performance for a second-year associate."
She couldn't meet his eye for his kind compliments, "I-I was just doing my job, sir." She replied, feeling her cheeks turning red.
"That you were," he said quietly. He looked around for a moment and in a quieter voice said, "Hermione?"
She looked up confused, usually they kept things professional at the Ministry, especially since she had been concerned people would assume she was getting special attention from the Minister having been a member of the Order with him.
"Sir?"
He smiled again, "I'm quite proud of you. And I know Ron and Harry will be as well when they return."
She opened her mouth to ask the question she had been wanting to ask for hours but he waved it away, "I don't know anything, which is a good thing," he reasoned, "I only seem to get bad news in my office."
"Kingsl…Minister, it's been almost a month with no word," she begged quietly, "I'm in agony alone in that house."
"You should go visit Molly more often, or to Wales and see Ginny," he insisted.
She shook her head, "I know I should… it's just… being at the Burrow without him, I…"
He kindly put his hand on her shoulder with a knowing smile, "I understand, I really do."
She thanked him for his kind words and began walking back towards the office. Once she reached the hallway, once more she allowed herself one quick glance at the Auror's door. No red headed face. And the candle stood silent on its perch.
Hermione felt her heart race as she looked back. The candle was no longer lit, that meant…
She knew she was not allowed into the Auror's office, annoyingly, so she bolted into her own and ran straight to MacTavish's desk.
"Bryan!" she exclaimed excitedly, "it's-"
"I know," he interrupted, "but we haven't heard anything."
Hermione deflated a bit at hearing this news, "Has any… no one's come and said anything?"
He seemed to know what she was getting at, "I'm sorry, Hermione. You know he wouldn't be able to come right away anyways. He probably has reports to file."
Never in her life had the prospect of paperwork been so comforting, "Of course," she replied feeling her energy return, "I'll just wait here and-"
"No," he interjected, "you will be distracted anyways, go home."
Hermione's eyebrows raised, "Go home?"
"If he stops by I'll tell him to see you at home," Bryan reasoned, "besides, just in case you need to be…notified of anything. The first place they check is the residence of the first of kin. You should go." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, softening his tone, "You did very well today, Counselor," giving her a kind grin, "You deserve the rest of the day off. Spend it with your man once he gets home."
Although the meaning behind what he'd meant earlier stuck in her mind, Hermione couldn't help but smile, "Thank you, sir!"
Ten minutes later she was stepping out of the floo at number 12 Grimmauld Place.
"Ron?" she called excitedly, running through each corridor, "RON? Harry?"
"Miss Hermione is back early!" an older voice came from the kitchens.
"Kreacher," Hermione walked over to where the wizened elf was standing in the doorway, wiping a tumbler with a rag, "have either Harry or Ron come back yet?"
"Kreacher has not seen Masters Harry or Ronald since they left for their mission, Miss," Kreacher answered formally. "How did Miss Hermione's trial fare this morning? May I make you some lunch?"
Even in the two years she'd been living with the boys at Grimmauld, Hermione was still not terrible comfortable being waited on. But it certainly had its perks, especially that Kreacher was now so friendly, "It went wonderfully this morning, Kreacher, she was convicted on all charges," she replied brightly, "and some lunch would be brilliant, I'm starving."
Kreacher bowed smiling and hurried into the kitchen, presumably to begin cooking.
Hermione walked down the hall to the sitting room and sat heavily onto her favorite chair looking about her. The large room had been transformed since the first time she'd stepped foot in the place. The dingy grey wallpaper had been removed and the walls painted a subtle burgundy with a white trim. Red, for Gryffindor, Harry had explained to her with a smile. It was mean to signify the new history of this house. The old ugly furniture had been replaced and the walls were now adorned with photographs of smiling faces. Right in front of her was a large portrait that had been taken right after the war of herself, Harry, and Ron, all receiving their Order of Merlins, First Class.
Surrounding them were majority photos of various redheads, but also non-moving Muggle photos of her own family, and of course a wedding photograph that at first glance could honestly be Harry twirling Ginny on a dance floor. But on closer inspection, the ginger haired woman in the picture had no freckles, but instead she had Harry's emerald green eyes and his quiet smile. And the man who looked so much like Hermione's best friend had a certain swagger to his features that her friend never seemed to emulate.
It had been Harry's idea to move back to Grimmauld Place and to make it their own. Immediately after the Battle of Hogwarts they had all returned to the Burrow. Once they fixed it up (the Weasleys had been in hiding for two months) and Hermione could get through at least one night without nightmares, she and Ron took off to Australia to find her parents.
She cringed physically at the memory of her parents' faces when Wendell and Monica disappeared from their eyes and Mr. and Mrs. Granger became themselves once more. They were very confused at first and very angry. After many tense conversations, her parents seemed to understand why she did what she had done, and eventually they forgave her.
Once they returned, Ron and Harry were offered spots in the Academy by Kingsley. She was offered the same, but being an Auror had never been attractive to her, plus she wanted to finish school. Ron and Harry needed a place in London during training, so Harry suggested they all use Grimmauld as a home base.
While both Ron and Hermione's mothers voiced disapproval for them living together so young, neither of them really fought the decision. Especially when they were more concerned about Ginny and Harry having a place to run off to without supervision.
"Hermione!"
She jumped a little hearing her name coming from the fireplace. As if she'd known Hermione was thinking of her, Ginny's head was floating in the sitting room floo.
"Ginny! I was just thinking about you, have you-"
"Hermione, you have to come to St. Mungo's," the youngest Weasley's voice was serious.
"Ginny, I don't understand…"
"Please, help me, I can't do this alone. Come now!"
Hermione's heart was racing, what the hell could be happening? She jumped up from the chair and rushed to the fireplace, gracefully grabbing some Floo Powder.
"Kreacher, I have to go, about lunch," she shouted down the hall as she walked into the fire and yelled, "St. Mungos!"
