AN: Dude. You guys broke my mail.

I'm not even kidding. There was such an influx of mail, your reviews plus a few from other stories added to the normal stream, stuffed up my e-mail service for a good couple hours. Every time I get an e-mail, my computer makes this little dinging combined with the sound of baseball bat (blame my dad for that one), which, when not paying attention, combine to make the sound of a toy gun going off.

I got sixty e-mails all at one time at nine in the morning, each sounding like a shot. I jumped the hell out of my computer chair and hit the deck.

That being said, despite the enormous bruise on my right knee, thanks so much for all the reviews, story alerts, and favorite stories I got from you! I have tapped into some hidden, unknown anger – who knew this many people wanted to re-do the "somebody leaves and comes back" story line? Except now I'm all nervous, because I didn't expect this enthusiastic of a response. Eh. I'll get over it.

Now to my anons:

Moongold – Wow. I love you. I mean, you just complimented me about ten times in one paragraph. Just for that, I promise not to get discouraged, even though as soon as I post this chapter, I'm turning my computer's sound off.

alanalynne – That's the idea. I strive to be different, per usual. Hee. Thanks. I'll do my best.

jr – I always thought so. My GPA doesn't agree. But I got As in English! Perhaps the problem with my other subjects is I kept writing stories and poems in my notebooks instead of actual notes. Nah.

Disclaimer: Yeah. Go for that last nickel in my pocket. I dare you.

Cool sheets and warm blankets, clean pillowcases with actual pillows in them, actual soft pillows, and the smell of honeysuckle.

Hermione refused to get up for an hour. She knew that she had to shower, that she was probably messing this heaven up with her own dinge and stink, but she couldn't do it. It was just so ... nice.

And seeing Harry and Ginny wasn't.

Still, she wasn't used to being inactive, these days. So after sixty minutes of enjoying the feeling of lying in a cloud, she tumbled off the bed and trudged off to the shower.

This was a different kind of happiness. Hot water, pretty-smelling soap, and a layer of dirt and grime and memories swimming down the drain in torrents. A fluffy towel to wrap herself in after, her skin pink and a little raw, her hair matted down in multi-colored chunks. She could look down and see her scars, reddened and irritated, standing out harshly on her thin legs and arms, free of excess blood for the first time.

Ginny's clothes hung a little loose on her, but Hermione couldn't have cared less. They had no holes, no stench, no rough spots that scratched her every time she moved.

Hermione had to take a few deep breaths, dry-eyed, to make sure she was calm enough to go downstairs.

Blessing number four sat on the table, steam rising up in great curls. Hot, delicious food.

Ignoring Ginny and Harry's incredulous looks, she snatched a plate. Everything she could see was piled on unceremoniously; she caught glances of eggs, sausages, kippers, toast, and scones before it disappeared under the growing mound. As soon as her scrambling hand found a fork, it was all been shoved into her mouth, one thing just as good as another.

"Ah." Harry decided that this was sufficient commentary, and went back to his own eggs, though with a slight flare to his nose.

Ginny was a bit more worried. In actions reminiscent of her own mother, her eyes kept flicking from the food to Hermione's constantly moving mouth, her fingers tightened around her wand as prepared to save Hermione the exact moment a chunk of bread got lodged in her throat.

Twenty minutes later, Hermione's head separated from her plate. She grinned exuberantly. "Morning, all."

"My brothers would be impressed," Ginny remarked wryly, eliciting a chuckle from her husband. The fingers around her wand loosened.

With forced cheeriness, Hermione said, mostly to the crumbs in her lap, "I'm off to work!"

No one said anything. Hermione chanced a look up. Harry and Ginny were exchanging gazes, talking without words like only a serious married couple can.

"Erm." Ginny turned to Hermione. "It's Saturday."

"Yes, well, it's our first day back, you see." It was an odd comfort to be absolutely sure that her face gave away nothing.

Harry didn't appreciate it. "Are you coming back?" he asked, voice hard.

She met his eyes, unwavering. "As long as you want me," she replied levelly.

Hermione decided not to Apperate or use Floo to get to the Ministry. She took the underground again, getting off three blocks away. It was wonderful, walking through the crowds, looking just like herself.

She walked up happily to the broken phone booth, unconsciously sweeping the area with quick glances around. Grinning broadly, she went the door and clanged it shut behind her. Picking up the telephone, she quickly whirled around the necessary numbers.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic." The familiar cool female voice resounded all around her. "Please state your name and business."

Hermione beamed at the receiver. "Hermione Granger, Department of Law."

"Thank you."

Without warning, the box quivered and began to melt into the ground. Hermione was practically bouncing on her toes in excitement. The lobby, marble and gold and new statue shining, came into view.

Hermione shivered as the booth stopped and the door swung open. She ran out, nearly missing the lifeless "The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day" the female voice offered in parting.

Dazed, Hermione couldn't decide which way to turn. Up at the vaulted ceilings, down at the shiny tiles, around at the familiar faces ...

"Oi!"

"Sorry! Sorry, sorry, I didn't ..."

Ron looked down at whoever had bumped into him with mild annoyance. Upon seeing who it was, his expression changed to one of surprise ... and mild annoyance.

"What are you doing here?" Blunt question, one eyebrow raised, arms slowly crossed. Body language indicating aloofness and subtle hostility.

Hermione blushed the tiniest bit. "Sorry. I didn't, um, see you. I was just, you know, looking around," she concluded lamely, gesturing to indicate the hall in general.

Now both eyebrows were up. "Forgotten what the place looked like? Time away'll do that to you." An insolent smirk played at the edges of his lips.

"Just happy to be back," Hermione retorted calmly. Her chin rose of it's own accord, challenging Ron to say anything more, to start their usual row right in the middle of a hundred or more witches and wizards.

Ron didn't take the bait. Instead, he took a step back and held his arm out gallantly. "Don't let me keep you, then. Have a nice day, Miss Granger."

"Herm!"

Next moment, Hermione's vision was impaired by a large quantity of blonde hair, sporting the same odd highlights as her own. Two arms wrapped around her, cutting off her supply of oxygen.

Someone just to their left seemed to have read her mind. "Ophelia, let her breathe."

Immediately, Hermione was released. She smiled up happily at the tall woman in front of her. "Hello, Ope."

A snort directed her attention back to Ron.

His eyebrows were back up. "Herm? Ope? Really, Hermione? I don't think my name'll shorten, but Harry can be Har and Ginny'll be Gin, Neville's Nev, Luna's Lun, she'll like that ..."

Ophelia, menacing despite the few inches she lacked to the redhead, bristled at Ron. "It's our thing. You got a name, Freckles?"

Ron ignored her, choosing to speak to Hermione, leaning his head around her to get a better view. "She's charming. Been with her this whole time?"

"And me." Roland, the voice which had saved Hermione from suffocation, held his hand out to Ron. "Roland Peters."

Ron accepted the hand with a look of irritated realization. "Ron Weasley."

"Wait." Ophelia turned to Hermione. "That's him?"

Hermione's blushed deepened a degree. "Yeah."

Ron's forehead crinkled. "I'm who?"

Roland was staring at Ron like he was a diversionary tactic Roland was determined to learn. Then his expression brightened. "Of course! Ron, the Ron. The one she was supposed to marry."

Hermione whimpered a little. Ron, however, smiled benevolently. "Ah, yes. Well, I am him. Anything else she's told you about me?"

"Not a thing you'd be interested in, Ronald." Anger flared to take the place of embarrassment. "Roland, Ophelia, we have a meeting to get to."

Roland caught the hint. "Good to meet you, Ron," he said formally, before the three of them walked off.

Ophelia and Hermione fell in step just behind Roland. Ophelia looked down at her friend skeptically. "That's really Ron?"

Hermione nodded, her eyes fixed ahead.

Ophelia's lip curled. "I don't like him. He's an ass."

Laughing, Hermione agreed. "He's an ass."

"Doesn't he know that you've been risking your life for idiots like him for the past three years?"
"He's an Auror, Ope," Hermione pointed out as they rounded a corner and began down a gilded gold staircase. "And he spent a year running around England trying to defeat the most evil wizard in history. To him, risking your life is an every day occurrence."

Ophelia shook her head. "But if he knew ..."

Hermione interrupted. "But he can't."

"You really loved him, huh?" The taller girl reached down slightly to place an arm around her friend.

Hermione leaned her head on the nearest bit of Ophelia she could. "Still do, actually. Still, we've got things to do more important."

Ophelia grinned ferally. "First days back after saving the world are always the hardest."

AN: Ok, not as in love with this chapter. But it's been such a struggle to get it written, what with my computer tanking (again), trying to fix up the cable and killing the internet (again), and getting so busy during the day I have to write this at three in the AM (again, again, again, as Jewel might say), that it'll have to do. This was always the problem chapter, anyway. I couldn't figure a nice way to slide Hermione back into the usual world without some nasty jerks and bumps. Hope you bear with me this chapter. Next should be more interesting and give you more hints to what Hermione's been up to. There's a nice detail in here you might like, if you pick up on it. Love? Hate? Review!

P.S. I almost forgot! Yes, I went with the clichéd American bitch best friend. Sorry. It's all I know! Don't worry, though. American won't be the only nationality you'll see. Fun times!