A/N: Hey all! Prepare for a longgg author's note, sorry! So like I said before, the chapters will be shorter now. That's so I can update a little more frequently! Thank you so much to those who reviewed and followed and even invited me to really cool writing communities! I'll get back to you on that ;). I'm having such fun writing this (also, ffr, I don't own Harry Potter!)

I'd like to address the constructive criticism I received. One reviewer stated the story is a bit dialogue-heavy and it can be confusing at times. I will try to include more narrative to make it easier to follow :)

Also I received my first ever "flame!" So exciting. The eloquent comment left by a guest was simply: "total garbage, just another Ron bash."

In case anyone else feels this story is throwing Ron under the Knight Bus...yes, I guess it is a Ron bash. Though I'd like to point out Rowling herself has stated that Hermione and Ron likely would have had to see a marriage counselor. She's their creator and recognizes their personalities are so different, it would lead to intense friction, and not the good sort! I wanted this story to be as canon as possible, so it is post-epilogue: Ron and Hermione got married and had two kids. It's been thirty years since Hogwarts. In that time, most marriages see passion wane. Ron got fed up with Hermione's career taking precedence over him and as a jealous character, I do think he'd feel extremely mistreated (however wrong that is) and he'd leave—like he did in Deathly Hallows. That incident proved he's prone to rash decisions, and can sometimes do things to hurt someone on purpose if he perceives they hurt him first. Would "Book Ron" CHEAT on Hermione? I don't know. He holds a special place in my heart. But "Film Ron" totally would. At least, that's my opinion. I hope this explanation straightens out where I'm coming from, writing his behavior that way.

I welcome all constructive criticism and will do my best to address it. But if you're going to call it "garbage," maybe have actual reasons to back it up? Then we can have a civilized discussion. ;)

Anyway, onto the chapter... :D

2.

When she woke up the next morning, Hermione's face broke into a half-grin. It was nice, for a change. She stretched, remembering the somewhat-surprising intellectual conversation she had shared with a total stranger half her age. Ron was never much for listening to her go on and on about books and the rights of mistreated magical beings, so she had kindly unloaded all her personal and political opinions on Sebastian. She had then realized how boring she must have sounded and apologized, and he had laughed and told her there was no need—he was fascinated.

"But, if you still think you should make it up to me, how about we meet here Monday, six o'clock? I'm dying to know more about giants and their plight," he'd said, actually fidgeting with nerves.

He was totally serious, and Hermione had agreed. Lying about who she was had emboldened her; who was she kidding? Sebastian would never take such an interest if he knew who she really was, beyond asking for her autograph.

She was just a war relic with teenaged children she was purposely deceiving.

The thought made her sad, and her morning grin melted away. Ah, back to normal.

An hour later, she had showered, dressed in casual clothes and scooped her hair into a very full bun. Something caught her eye as she leaned toward the mirror and brushed her teeth.

"Oh God," she mumbled around her toothbrush. Clamping down on it with her teeth to hold it in place, she used her hands to separate the silver strand of hair out from the mahogany ones. Then she plucked it out.

Drawing back to examine it, a splotch of toothpaste dropped onto her clean t-shirt.

"Ughhhh." She held the hair up to the light. Definitely silver. Almost white. Too many of these and I'll look like Malfoy, she thought. She tossed it in the bin and rinsed her mouth, then noticed her stained shirt.

That made her think.

Amelia would not wear the clothes Hermione wore. For starters, she was taller and thinner than Hermione, but also much more fashionable. If she was going to work for Malfoy Law, she'd have to dress the part. She'd had to wear her own clothing to the interview, but the tailoring spells she'd done on them couldn't magically make them into the kinds of things a 22-year-old would wear...because she didn't exactly know what that was. And she had absolutely no money to spend on a new wardrobe before she was set to start the job on Monday.

Cringing, Hermione picked up her phone from the bathroom counter, glad she'd convinced her friends to use them. She was going to need reinforcements.

0.0.0

By the time Hermione arrived at the Potters', she realized she was going to have to let Ginny in on her secret. Not because she wanted to; the less Ginny knew, the more deniability she could claim if Hermione was found out and arrested. But Ginny knew she and Hermione didn't share the same appreciation for clothes, and they were different sizes, anyway.

She would have to come up with something convoluted to explain why she needed to borrow from Ginny's closet, and she had too many lies to keep straight already.

The Floo spit her out in their fireplace, and Ginny appeared right away.

"Okay," she said, crossing her arms and tapping her foot almost comically. "Spill."

So, after forcing Ginny to swear on their friendship to keep the secret, Hermione told all.

Ginny blinked at her friend over the rim of her teacup. She pursed her lips. Hermione held her breath.

"Yeah," the redhead sighed, placing her cup back in its saucer, "I knew it. You've cracked."

"Ginny—"

"I won't tell Harry. He's such a worrier, you know, and a bit of a drama queen to be honest. If he knew you'd gone barmy, well—" Ginny held out her arm and pretended to fly it like a broom, then crashed it into the table. She added explosive noises for dramatic effect.

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Are you finished?"

"I don't know, are you, Hermione? I mean, what a mess!" Ginny leaned back in her chair, shaking her head. "And you want me to keep this from Rose and Hugo, too? They'll be so hurt when they find out. They'll never trust you again. Eventually they'll find out about Ron; they'll need you. They'll need to feel like they can depend on at least one of their parents." Ginny was definitely Molly Weasley's child—she managed to sound infinitely wise while sending someone on a guilt trip.

"You're right, of course," Hermione said, head in her hands, her breath making ripples on the surface of her cold tea. "But it's all I could think to do. Did I mention the salary? To do an easier job, too!"

"Are you sure you can...stomach it?" Ginny asked, her face screwed up in distaste. "Morally, I mean. Malfoy Law just defends guilty pure bloods. And half-bloods, if they're ridiculously wealthy. If you're working for them, those bloody bastards are sure to get off!"

"It'll be difficult," Hermione said simply. "But I've pulled off difficult things before. At any rate, no one's values are being compromised besides my own. I'm not doing this for myself." She sighed, pushing the tea and biscuits away. Finally, she forced herself to make eye contact with her friend, who was just as uncomfortable. "I'm doing this for my children. They don't deserve to have their dreams dashed because their parents couldn't figure out how to be responsible adults."

Ginny's face hardened like stone. She leaned forward, her index finger drawing a line on the table.

"You are a responsible adult. Don't you dare blame yourself for what Ron has done. Even if he wasn't happy with how much you worked, he didn't have to go jump into some trollop's...arms," she finished, reigning herself in. The corners of her mouth turned down, and her eyes were filled with sympathy. "He should be the one risking everything to fix this, not you."

Hermione finally leaned back into her chair, sagging with emotional exhaustion. She gave Ginny a watery smile.

"But he isn't," she whispered, and she blinked to stop the stinging in her eyes.

And that was the last they spoke on the matter.

0.0.0

Monday morning came both slowly and far, far too quickly for Hermione's liking. The first day on a new job was nerve wracking for everyone, but it was a bit of a different thing when you were a witch impersonating a muggle woman impersonating someone who didn't actually exist.

"Think of your children," she said to her reflection. "Think. Of. Your. Children."

She tossed back the potion, then fixed herself with a brown brick-like stare. She stayed focused on her own eyes while the usual nausea and muscle spasms hit her full force. In the mirror, brown lightened to blue, and then she wasn't herself at all anymore.

Amelia smiled back at her, and Hermione wondered at the power attractive people held over the rest of the world. It was like its own magic, but one that she'd never mastered.

Actually, she thought as she shimmied into clothes borrowed from Ginny, I'm getting quite handy with that eyebrow stamp.

0.0.0

"Are you normally this early, or is it just something fun you're doing to annoy me?" Pansy groused, breezing past Hermione's desk, smelling faintly of a potion used to treat hangovers. "No one likes an arse-kisser, Amelia," she called over her shoulder, disappearing into her office and slamming the door. She was fifteen minutes late.

Hermione took a deep breath. She was still on her new employee probationary period, so having Pansy like her was essential. She waited approximately 90 seconds, then went to knock on Pansy's door.

"I'm busy!"

"Er...yes ma—uh, yes Ms. Parkinson." Hermione said loudly, looking both ways down the hall to be sure no one was looking at her strangely. "I was just hoping to speak with you regarding my objectives for today?"

"Objectives?" Pansy called shrilly, and Hermione heard the noise of a drawer being shut roughly. "Your objective is to be seen and not heard. When I need you, I shall summon you. Do not disturb me unless the building is on fire!"

Hermione stepped back from the door. What was the preoccupation with the building being on fire? She made a mental note to get to the bottom of it on her lunch break.

She was just about to sit down at her desk and idly twiddle her thumbs when a frazzled witch suddenly popped into an empty frame she hadn't noticed on her desk during the tour.

"Hi!" Hermione said, smiling as the portrait gathered her bearings.

"Hello! Ms. Parkinson says that—"

"AMELIA!" Pansy shrieked from her office. "I need you. What is taking so bloody long?!"

Hermione gave the portrait an apologetic smile.

"Thank you," she said warmly, then turned to enter Pansy's office for the second time in two minutes.

The former Slytherin was leaning far back in her leather office chair, a bag of ice she must have conjured pressed over her eyes.

"Amelia, push my nine o'clock meeting to this afternoon. And bring me a coffee and a bottle of water. They must come from the cafe across the street. If you try any substitutions, I'll know," she warned, wincing as the ice moved.

"Oh—okay—what reason would you like me to give—"

"Just think of something," Pansy groaned, shooing Hermione away with a waving hand. "I want the coffee in five minutes. You're excused."

Hermione's eyes widened. Was this what she was reduced to? Fetching coffee for her lush of an enemy-turned-boss?

She'd stood there in existential crisis too long because Pansy raised her head and peeked out under the ice pack at her new employee.

"Why are you still here?" she asked, irritated.

"I—I'm not! Be right back!" Hermione stammered. Feeling like a complete fool, she rushed to her desk to grab her purse. She tried to Apparate, then remembered the law office was warded against it. Thirty seconds later, she was urgently pressing the button to the lift when the doors finally opened at a snail's pace.

Draco Malfoy stood there.

He looked up from his copy of the Daily Prophet and rolled his eyes when he saw her, which confused her.

"Good morning, Mr. Malfoy."

He tucked the paper under his arm, shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against the back of the lift, signaling that he was not getting off to go to his office, but seemingly resigned to riding down with her. Hermione jumped in and pressed the button to take them down.

"Pansy's drunk again." He said as the doors closed.

Hermione visibly jumped.

"Why would you think—"

"You're the fifth person to take that job in six months. Pansy is a terrible drunk, but it's never stopped her from doing her job. Goes through assistants like chocolate frogs, though," he smirked. Finally, he turned his head to look at her.

Hermione took in a sharp breath. Now this was the closest they'd ever been. The tiny space of the warm lift was filled with a pleasant earthy, masculine scent with the unmistakable undertones of...money.

Hermione couldn't bear his steely gaze any longer so she looked toward the doors.

"So...someone made it over a month." Hermione said, pursing her lips.

"What?"

"You said I was the fifth person in six months. So naturally someone must've been able to keep the job over a month. That's reassuring," she said, nodding to herself. She felt Malfoy continuing to stare at her.

"One of them jumped from Pansy's office window and it took two months before the investigation closed, so...no." He smirked, obviously drawing pleasure from raining on her parade.

"Are they sure it was...a suicide?" Hermione asked, swallowing hard. The lift dinged to announce their arrival on the ground floor, and Malfoy started forward as the doors opened.

He looked back at her, still smirking as she was rooted to the spot.

"It was inconclusive," he said, clicking his tongue. "You'd better hurry up with that coffee. I'm assuming Pansy's got a close eye on the time." He grinned for a fraction of a moment, and it was a joke and something sinister at the same time. His intention was to rattle her, and he'd succeeded.

Then he stepped off the lift and disappeared into the bustling lobby.

So that's how it's going to be. Very well, Hermione thought. Malfoy-1. Amelia-0.

0.0.0

All constructive feedback is appreciated :)

(Also I'll take unabashed flattery)