This was written for the Den Mother Hermione challenge by Winter's Empire. Enjoy XD

Chapter One

Hermione stretched out on her large bed, yawning as the sun hit her face, blinding her slightly. "'Morning, Sirius." She said happily, gazing up at his seemingly empty portrait.

"Bugger!" He stepped out from behind the large yellow chair, looking quite offended. "How did you know this time? It wasn't Harry who tipped you off, was it?" He narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms sulkily.

She laughed. "I have my ways, Sirius." She smirked.

His sulky expression turned to a grin as she stepped out of bed, pulling her dressing gown over her shoulders and tying it off. "I wonder if anyone else –"

CRASH!

"Ah, the Twins must be attempting to make breakfast again..." Sirius muttered, thoroughly amused.

Hermione scowled. "What have I bloody TOLD them?" She grumbled angrily, closing her door loudly before stomping down the stairs. "What have you done, now?" She demanded, attempting to keep her calm upon finding George with half a plate in his guilty hand.

"Nothing, Hermione, I promise. It was all Charlie!" He squeaked, watching as the petite witch's eyes moved from him to Fred and finally landing on Charlie, who was slumped on the table, apparently enjoying his scrambled eggs.

She cocked an eyebrow. "How on Earth, George, did Charlie, who happens to be passed out on the table, manage to break a plate?"

"What the hell was that noise?" Harry wandered into the kitchen, putting on his glasses. "Morning, Hermione." He greeted, then turned to George, who was turning red very quickly. "Another one?" George nodded, shoulders slumping.

"I'm sorry, Hermione... but you know I'm useless at this cooking thing... If mum was around..." He said, his eyes wandering to the ground.

Hermione sighed, not this again. Molly and Arthur were gone, and their sons – well, more like Fred and George – were completely lost without them. "Look, George, we are magical, you have realised, right? We can fix the plate." She grinned as he looked up, a smile on his face. She pulled out her wand and in a wave; it was whole again, the other half having joined it.

Fred grinned. "Well done. We were only testing you. Knew you could pass, Mione." He clapped a hand over her shoulder and she rolled her eyes.

Hermione let out a giggle. "We may be able to fix the plate, guys. But I think breakfast is screwed." She laughed as Fred looked down at the pot he'd been stirring to find it a green goop. "What were you trying to make?"

"SHIT!" He shouted, pulling it off the stove. He threw it in the sink and turned on the tap, watching glumly as it sizzled.

"Wha –" Charlie sat up, egg smeared across his face. "What stinks?"

"Well, I'm not sure whether it's the breakfast up your nose, or whatever Fred was trying to cook." Ginny walked in casually. "I'm thinking the latter." She said, reaching up and pecking Harry on the lips. Hermione felt jealous at her gesture, wanting her own relationship with a wonderful man. She pushed it away.

"Good morning, Gin." Was chorused throughout the kitchen.

Charlie glanced at the clock and stood up quickly. "I'm late!" He said, wiping the egg off his face.

"Late? For what?" Hermione asked curiously, wondering if she should mention that he was shirtless.

He stopped and turned to her, embracing her quickly, causing her to cringe as some egg dripped onto her shoulder. "I've got a wedding to stop. Can't have my best friend marry that bitch!"

"Charlie –"

"Bye, I'll see you all later."

"Give Oliver my condolences!" Ginny yelled, cutting off Hermione once again as she attempted to tell 'the Bachelor', as he was dubbed, that he would probably need a shirt. He was gone with a pop once outside the door.

And then he came back, grabbed the nearest dress shirt – the one he'd hung on the refrigerator – and left with a quick hug to Hermione as she scolded him.

An hour later, the twins had been charged with dishes duty after a hearty breakfast, Harry had gone off to work, and Ginny was planning her attack on the harlots that were no doubt going to exit Ron's room some time before lunch.

"Okay, so I think paint bombs... or possibly even just turning them very subtly green... But neither of them can tell! Aha! It's brilliant!"

"And completely evil." Hermione said, raising her eyebrows.

Ginny grinned, rubbing her hands together. "Of course – do you expect anything less? C'mon, we need a new tradition around here, Hermione." She sang.

"Yes, but this new tradition involves me ending up pulling you and Ronald apart in order to keep the carpets free of blood." She reminded Ginny lightly, though she was curious as to how this plan would work. "You lot are going to give me grey hairs." She muttered, standing up.

Ginny smiled sweetly. "Too late, Mione."

Hermione spun around to face her, panic stricken. "I don't have grey hairs, do I?" She demanded.

Ginny laughed at her best friend's antics. "Of course not, Hermione. You're only twenty-two years old! And even we're not that bad!"

Hermione sighed. "Oh, I beg to differ." Ginny, Fred and George gave out an indignant shout of 'Hey!' but it was ignored as Hermione trudged up the stairs. She launched herself on her bed and pulled a pillow over her face.

"Troubles with the brood, love?" Sirius inquired.

She took the pillow off her head, her hair even more like a birds nest than before. "Why is it that you choose to inhabit my bedroom, Sirius?" She asked, looking quite deadly, though her tone suggested otherwise.

"It's the best room in the house." He said smugly.

"You have seven other portraits throughout the house, Sirius – not including the one in the sitting room. This is merely one of them. Unless you can find six good reasons that you can't inhabit those ones, then I'm removing you." She threatened.

He smirked, his painted eyes appearing to twinkle. "Well, firstly, nobody wants to see how Ron wakes up. So his room is out of the question. Harry and Ginny... Well, they need their couple time. George's room isn't very pretty. Fred's room has a really bad view of the street... How many's that?" He looked at her grinning.

"Four. Continue."

"Charlie never wears a shirt in his room, and love, I am certainly not gay." He said, tilting his nose up and causing her to giggle. "And lastly, you have to be my favourite person in the entire house. Of course I have to visit you."

She smiled. "You've always been such a smooth talker, Sirius." Hermione feigned sweetness. "But unfortunately, any woman with a brain can see that it's all bullshit." She said, gathering her clothing and heading for the shower.

"Bullshit? It is not!" He said indignantly. "It's perfectly wonderful –"

"Utter nonsense." She finished for him, closing the door on his defence. Turning on the tap, she ignored the loud SMACK and screams from the floor above her, and jumped in, feeling the warm water cascade down her back.

They had surfaced much earlier than expected... Ginny must've woken them up. She knew Ron wouldn't have been happy at being woken up at an hour such as 9.30 in the morning.

Hermione smiled fondly at the typical morning in Grimmauld Place. Disaster after disaster. Followed by a shower and then the going to work.

Though she was glad that the war was over, Hermione couldn't help but feel sadness that they were into a routine of their own as young adults without Molly or Arthur – or rather any adult supervision to keep them in good health.

It had been four years, and still they mourned. They would never stop mourning – just as they would never stop living. And consequentially, whilst what she now considered family lived, Hermione was given the role of mother. She kept them in line and they feared her wrath. She stopped the fights and the pranks – knew all of them best. They knew not to defy her... not that it stopped them.

She felt herself grin at the shouting of Ron and Ginny. A laugh escaped her throat as the Professional Quidditch Player and the Clothes Designer argued over said clothes designer's prank on the harlots that had exited the quidditch player's room.

"You're just JEALOUS!" His voice rang out.

"Jealous?!" She screeched back. "I'm not GAY! Unlike –"

"Oh, Merlin help me..." Hermione muttered, rolling her eyes and scrubbing at her scalp. She needed the distraction. Calling Ron gay was probably the worst insult... Calling Harry gay simply scared the name-caller more scared when he agreed, making Ginny paranoid.

She knew it was going to be a long day, and by sound of the arguing that had now moved downstairs, a long night, too. She bit back a laugh as she dried and dressed herself, choosing to wear her favourite yellow summer dress. She left her hair down to dry in a mass of luxurious curls, thanks to her shampoo.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, it was quiet... until Ron spotted her. "She called me gay, Hermione!" He said, outraged.

"Ginny, you know not to call your brother gay." She scolded, holding back her own laugh as Ginny grinned triumphantly.

"Sorry, Hermione." She said, not meaning a word of it. "You off to work?" Hermione nodded, smiling. "Are we doing lunch today? I've got pretty much a free day now that Hannah's decided to go model searching."

"Yeah, why not?" Hermione said lightly. "The Three Broomsticks at one?" Ginny agreed enthusiastically and Hermione left with a pop on the front steps, leaving the two feuding siblings to brood as Fred and George had already gone to the shop. Thus was a typical morning in Grimmauld Place.

By lunch time, Hermione was furious. Seething. Her new boss, Dexter Furston, was a complete and utter sleaze. The entire time she had been writing the column, he was looking over her shoulder and staring at her tits. Sleaze bag.

She sat down heavily at Ginny's table and scowled. "The new boss?" Ginny asked and watched, amused, as she nodded angrily. "Honey, you're gorgeous, of course he's going to perve." She had read her mind.

"Yes, but does he have to be so obvious about it?!" She almost shouted.

Ginny snorted. "He's male. You're hot stuff. He's a perve. Obvious is his thing. Don't worry, if he keeps bugging you, you have plenty of jobs around just waiting for you."

Hermione sighed. "I know, I know. But really, Ginny. I don't want to work in the ministry. I don't want to work for you – I'm sorry. I refuse to work as a lawyer. And being a doctor... Well, I'd get far too attached." She had listed them in her head.

Ginny bit her lip. "You could always buy Flourish and Blotts. They're selling up now, haven't you heard?"

Hermione's eyes widened and she gasped in shock. "No!"

"Yes!" Ginny said, looking saddened. "Mr. Flourish is on his death bed and Mr. Blotts doesn't want to run the shop without him."

"That is so sad..." Hermione said. She'd been one of their most loyal customers.

"You could always buy it from them..." Ginny said, lifting a brow in question.

Hermione shook her head. "I can't afford that. And before you even say it, Gin, I am not borrowing money from you and Harry. It's not right of me."

"But –"

"Nothing, Gin. I love you, and thank you for the offer, but I'll just stick it out at The Daily Prophet. It's not like I'm not strong or stubborn enough for it." She said sincerely.

"Thus is true." Ginny agreed, deciding that Hermione had a point. But she was still going to talk to Harry later. "Now, what's for lunch? I'm absolutely starving!" She said, patting her flat stomach.

Hermione grinned and picked up a menu, following her friend's example.