The Next Day...

Returning home from work, Harry and Hermione were exhausted, to say the least. The day had run a bit long as the auror department had located at the very least two death eaters that had managed to slip past the ministry's defenses during the investigations years prior. And Hermione had been berated viciously by the boss man and countless house-elves that disapproved of her mission to set them free. She simply just didn't understand and was still highly determined to put her plan into action and to see it through.

Not only that but with Harry in the Auror Department and Hermione down at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, the two excruciatingly sexually attracted adults found it difficult to even think about one another as workload piled on top of workload. Harry was positively drowning in paperwork regarding his closed cases and Hermione had a difficult time attempting to disguise her anger as Sandy Ruckerbaker took it upon herself to prove how the brunettes ongoing propositions on how to improve the lives of house-elves and ilks, were useless.

Sandy Ruckerbaker is a petite blonde witch who wished to swipe Hermione's job from under her. She always wore pink ruffle socks and thigh high stockings which stopped about an inch below her plaid skirts which tended to vary in color. While her nose was long and hooked weirdly along the bottom, she was otherwise a very pretty woman. Her lips were plump, she was rather short and held a desirable slender physique. However, looks aside, she was quite possibly the most inconsiderate and attention-seeking human being Hermione had ever met.

It had felt like fourth year all over again. The doubt. The discouragement. And so close to a tough breakup too. It was like Sandy had no sympathy at all! Then again, demons aren't usually accomodating to natural human needs anyway.

"How about we skip the sex tonight and just lay there," Harry suggested as the two reached his front door, both on the verge of collapsing.

Hermione nodded her head lightly as she leaned against the wall, emotionally drained and ready to sleep the day away. She simply wanted to forget the several insults that had been thrown in her face — insults that seemed to cut like glass, each and every time. The things she'd never liked about herself were mainly physical, but to think that she could actually be a 'horrible' human being on top of that, absolutely sucked.

"Hye, what's on your mind?" Harry said, his voice low and patient as he held the witch's face in his hands and silently pleaded she looked up at him.

Harry had no idea what he was going to do once Ginny had come back from her trip. He had assumed he would feel worse about what he was, unknowingly to her, putting the redhead through, yet every-time he gazed into Hermione's eyes he felt at peace. He couldn't have helped being emotionally invested in the brunette and he knew the day he had to let her go was going to be a rather painful one. But, he was sure the two would eventually move past it.

Hermione would be mad for awhile and seek comfort in her work more than ever. The attractive mailman which delivered his mail, who in Harry's opinion looked ghastly, would then finally have the stone's to ask her out on a date and she'd say yes. It would hurt a little, the sight and thought of her with someone else, but eventually they'd both laugh about it as they sat around a fire with their own families on christmas day.

'It seemed realistic enough, didn't it?' He would ask himself day and night as he reran the scenario over and over again in his mind.

"Just had a rough day. House-elves are a tough crowd," she yawned, choosing to skip over the information on the treatment she'd received by her boss.

Before throwing the door open dramatically as he'd done the past week and soon trudging into the apartment rather funnily, Harry pressed his lips against Hermione's forehead and ran his thumb softly across her cheekbone. She smiled brightly, already feeling a sliver of happiness poke through the somber mold.

Finally stepping into the house, the two were tempted by the couch upon sight but decided they needed a good night's rest, opposing to a stiff neck and aching wrists. Slowly climbing up the steps towards her room where she'd change and soon meet Harry in his own sleeping chambers, Hermione huffed in contentment and glanced around the room she hardly used since she'd gotten to Harry's. The process of stepping out from her clothes was a slow one that night and she'd barely stepped out of her shoes when she'd heard Harry shout:

"GINNY! You're back!"

Upon said warning Hermione stumbled out of her room quickly and into the hallway. She stood off to the side, in a position and location which ensured that she'd be able to witness all that went down between Harry and his girlfriend, whom the bright witch had been sure he hadn't spoken to since their petty argument.

Sitting up in the Gryffindor themed bed, which was adorned with gold stripes that stood out from the red peering from beneath, was a foggy eyed Ginny Weasley. Finally back from her long trip, the redhead looked dreadful. She had bags under her eyes as if she'd hadn't slept in days and her hair stuck up from all sides which was definitely something Hermione hadn't seen before. The youngest Weasley always seemed so kept together, even during their childhood when the brunette roomed with her. It was all quite the sight.

"Yes, I am, Harry. Now, can you please explain to me why it is you are attempting to alert the media?" Ginny questioned, startled by the volume of his voice and the manner in which he spoke.

He apologized quickly and she hadn't exactly counted, but Hermione was sure that the two had been staring at one another, so silently the crickets could be heard from beyond the walls of the soundless home.

"Can you also explain to me what this is?" The redhead said, her left arm shooting up from beneath the thick bedspread, underwear that seemed so familiar, hanging from her fingertips.

Hermione was at a loss for words. She'd thought they'd been careful and painfully alert concerning their nights together, but it seemed the cat was not just slipping from out of the bag, but gnawing on it relentlessly all at once.

"Hermione did my laundry this morning, she tends to mix our clothing together since I'm hopeless and — and she... must've dropped it."

Harry had been quick with an excuse, but it did not settle any of the emotions Hermione had been feeling at the moment. She felt lost and completely derailed from a path she'd known she was following but now, completely kicked from. It was a melancholic situation and she wasn't entirely sure how she was going to be dealing with the pressures of having to maintain such lie and most importantly, keep a secret so huge forever. She wanted to tell someone; to vent to an individual who would listen and tell her that it was going to be okay. But, she didn't have that at the moment and she finally realized that she would most likely never again have a stable friendship with Harry — not after this. Not when he preferred the old from the new.

Attempting to dry the tears from her pale face, Hermione tied the shoelace which lay undone, a reflection of the happiness she'd once kept inside.

She soon walked out of the house, and possibly Harry's life for a long time.