3

After Ron left her office, Hermione couldn't seem to concentrate on getting any work done. She kept going over their conversation in her mind trying to think of a way she could have fixed this. Why though, she thought. Isn't this what I wanted?

She hadn't really meant to kiss him in the first place. The adrenaline pumping through her after destroying the horcrux and the terror of the approaching battle had her vibrating in anticipation, and then Ron completely astonished her by saying, "We have to find the house-elves to help them evacuate!" When she and Harry looked at him incredulously, he added, "We don't want any more Dobbys, and we can't order them to die for –"

Before he could even finish his sentence, Hermione had thrown the basilisk fangs she was holding to the floor with a clatter and practically jumped into his arms to kiss him.

She smashed her mouth to his, almost missing in her haste, and was momentarily stunned when she felt his tongue push past her lips and connect with her own. She had no clue what she was doing but believing that she or he or both of them may be dead within the hour made that completely irrelevant. She reached her arms behind his back, clinging to him like a life raft, while his hands disappeared within her hair.

And then, as if being awoken from a dream, they both gasped and jumped away from one another when Harry yelled, "Is this really the time?"

She hadn't even thought of the kiss again until days later. And even then, there were more important things going on, Hogwarts to rebuild, a government to reinstate, and more importantly, funerals to prepare for. It wasn't as if she didn't like him or that she hadn't considered attempting a relationship with him, but just as Harry said, now was not really the time for that.

She cared for him deeply. Only Harry occupied a bigger space in her heart than him, truthfully. Harry was her best friend, the brother that she wished she had, and Ron was … she wasn't entirely certain. Somewhere between that and … something else?

She had often considered him to be the closest thing to a crush she had ever experienced, other than, of course, Professor Lockhart and Sirius, though she had never actually admitted either of those to anyone, nor did she ever intend to. She enjoyed spending time with him, and things had always seemed natural and relaxed between them.

Until the kiss.

After that, their entire relationship seemed to be stilted somehow. What once felt completely normal and comfortable now felt stiff and forced. Following a few uncomfortable attempts at conversation, he finally approached her in Grimmauld Place after everyone else had gone to bed.

"Are we going to talk about this or continue just being incredibly awkward around one another until we die?" he asked, after finding her reading in the sitting room.

"Umm… the second option?" she answered with a smile. His shoulders relaxed, and he walked fully into the room and sat down beside her on the sofa. "Okay, good. I'd hate to have fully embarrassed myself prior to knowing that. You know, like telling you how much I enjoyed that kiss and how I've been hoping for a chance to get another for weeks now." He opened the copy of Quidditch Weekly that was sitting on Harry's coffee table and peeked at her indifferently from the corner of his eye.

"Yes, definitely. And the last thing I would have wanted is to hurt your feelings by saying that I'm not at all ready for something like that." She didn't look up from her book at all, but she felt her face growing warm.

He didn't show any reaction at all, which wasn't what she had been expecting whatsoever. Maybe this won't ruin us after all, she thought.

"If that conversation had happened," he said casually, "I would have just said something like 'You're my best friend, I care about you, one kiss doesn't mean I'm expecting to get married, yada yada yada.' "

She looked over at him, noticing he was still feigning interest in whatever quidditch drivel he was reading. "So, what would you be looking for?" Then she added quickly, turning back to her book, "You know, in this entirely hypothetical conversation we're having."

"I think, purely hypothetically, of course, that I've fancied you for years." He dropped the pretense and the magazine onto the couch and shifted his body to face her. "And, I'd like the opportunity to explore that if there's any chance that you may feel the same way."

She placed her bookmark into her book and closed it slowly. Placing it down on the table, she turned toward him. "Ron, I'm … this war, it… it's affected me." She dropped her gaze, unable to keep looking at him. "I'm not sure that I can – "

She felt his hand on her chin, as he slowly lifted her face back up to meet his. "I don't expect anything from you. If you tell me that you want to pretend it didn't happen, then I'll pretend it didn't happen." The look on his face said that was the absolute last thing that he wanted. He dropped his hand and said, "But I would regret it for the rest of my life if I didn't first say that I loved kissing you, I want to do it again, and I really think we have a chance at being something more than what we are now." He barely paused between words, like he was trying to get it all out before he changed his mind or before she cut him off.

They sat there, unmoving, for a moment, him blinking at her expectantly and her barely breathing.

"Okay."

"Okay? Like, yes 'okay' or no 'okay'?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yes, okay. We can try. I don't know that – "

Before she could finish telling him that she wasn't sure if she was capable of a relationship, he launched himself into the remaining foot of space between them and pressed his mouth to hers. She was so surprised by the rapid change of events that she never even closed her eyes. She sat there for a split second, her lips pursed tightly, staring at him, and her palms sweating spots onto the couch.

He, likely realizing that she was completely caught off guard, pulled back and quickly apologized.

"I'm sorry, 'Mi. I've just been wanting to do that for weeks, and it took everything I had to wait until we had this conversation… or not have this conversation." He smirked. "We don't have to do that though. Not if you aren't ready."

She knew her reddening cheeks were betraying the look of calmness she was trying to convey. "No… I mean, yes. Just… I wasn't expecting that." She wiped her hands onto her jeans, trying to will them to stop sweating. "Perhaps if we take it slow and just see what happens, it won't be quite so surreal."

"Yeah, okay. Whatever you want." He smiled at her and twisted around on the couch so that they were again sitting beside one another rather than face-to-face. He gently reached over and took her hand in his. He stopped for a moment to unclasp them and wiped her palm on his jeans with a chuckle.

"Sorry," she said with a grimace.

He responded by rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb and smiling like this was the most normal thing in the world. He didn't act as if he was feeling any of the things she was currently experiencing, heart racing and full of trepidation.

He picked up his magazine from the table beside them and began reading again, continuing to stroke the back of her hand. She tucked her knees up beside her, curling into him, and opened her book where she had left off, trying to focus on reading rather than analyzing and overanalyzing the entire conversation that had just taken place.

Hermione took a moment to gather herself before beginning to address the ever-growing items in her inbox. With the months of dealing with a constant lack of sleep and a desire to never have an idle moment, she had taken on quite a bit of extra work. Her job as an advisor within the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures had been created specifically with her in mind.

As the "Golden Girl" and the "brightest witch of her age," she essentially had her pick of any job within the Ministry. Ron and Harry had the same offering, along with numerous others who had fought either alongside or within the Order of the Phoenix. Harry and Ron both took jobs within the Auror office, though Ron's Ministry career was short-lived. When Hermione was approached in a similar fashion by the newly appointed Minister Shacklebolt (still Kingsley to her regardless of his newfound prestige), she turned him down. At the time, she wanted to return to Hogwarts, but when that option fell through, she returned to the Ministry, but with a different idea for her future.

Following the war, she took part in a dozen various projects to bring change to the antiquated laws within the Ministry regarding magical creatures, including more than a few protests and petitions. So, after talking with Kingsley about her options, she opted to function as an advisor within the division. She didn't want to run anyone out of their position simply by being a "war hero," nor did she want to settle for just any job. This route allowed her to have a hand in a multitude of projects while also maintaining the ability to work her way into the departments she found most meaningful, house-elves and werewolves.

Her connections with both Dobby and Remus were enough in and of themselves to give her the desire to help house-elves and werewolves. But, the treatment of their kind even after all that they had sacrificed during the war was enough to push her to change any plan she had for her future. She wanted to ensure that their names were honored as much as any wizard's who had contributed to the war effort but also to fight for change for those of their kind.

She realized long ago that her former beliefs regarding house-elf servitude and attempts to "trick" the Hogwarts elves into freedom were misguided to say the least. She still maintained the idea that house-elves should be paid for their work, but without the elves themselves fighting for this as well, she learned it really was a losing battle.

And after watching Remus suffer the way that he did and seeing firsthand the ostracism he received at the hands of wizards, she couldn't sit by and watch as they continued to be forcibly placed beneath others simply because humans believed themselves to be superior.

As an advisor, she was unable to change any existing laws, but she did make sure that the Ministry was operating within the law when interacting with magical creatures and beings. And, more often than not, she found herself representing various individuals, both human and non, as essentially a guardian ad litem on their behalf.

Though she loved her work, she wanted to be able to actively change the archaic laws put in place to hinder the betterment of those being discriminated against, not just help one individual at a time. So, ultimately, she was biding her time, waiting for the current head of the department, Gethsemane Prickle, to retire.

Once Ron left, she had only a few moments to ensure it didn't look like she had just sobbed at her desk before she had back-to-back meetings with both the Liaison of the Goblin and Centaur offices. As was her typical fashion, she skipped lunch before meeting with the owner of a snallygaster that reportedly attacked an adolescent boy who had wandered onto his property. The boy's family, a member of the "Sacred 28" no less, was fighting to have the animal put down, so Hermione was working alongside Donovan Denbright, the animal's owner, to fight the case. She couldn't help but be reminded of the attempted execution of Buckbeak in her third year. Sadly, this time a time-turner wouldn't help her secure the fate of Apollo, the creature in question.

After sitting through two separate meetings with both Mr. Denbright and the Travers family, it was obvious that deliberations could not occur with both parties present, which left Hermione sorting through hours of recorded conversations from both sides trying to discover the truth. Unfortunately, she only had four days to convince the committee to spare the animal's life, and if Buckbeak's case is any indication, anything short of a miracle wouldn't do it.

She didn't even realize it was so late until Harry fire-called at six to ask if she wanted to go to dinner with him and Ginny. She declined, saying she wasn't really hungry, cleared her desk, and headed to the atrium to floo home.

She stepped out of the floo at Grimmauld Place and immediately tripped over Crookshanks who appeared to be waiting for her to return home. "Dammit, Crookshanks. You almost killed me." The cat, completely unfazed by her theatrics, began to weave himself through her legs, meowing loudly. "I know you're hungry. Come on."

He followed her into the kitchen and waited patiently as she summoned his food and placed it into his saucer. As she placed it on the floor, she sat down beside him, leaned against the counter with her legs stretched out in front of her, and began stroking his orange coat while he ate.

"You still like me, right, Crooks?" He arched his back as her hand trailed down his spine, but otherwise, he gave no indication that he wasn't entirely focused on the food in front of him. "Who am I kidding? As long as you've got food in your dish, you could care less who's putting it in there." At this, however, he immediately turned from his food and gave what she could only assume to be his best attempt at indignation.

"Oh, don't look at me like that." With that, he crawled into her lap and nuzzled his head in her neck. As she scratched his ears, just the way he liked it, she hugged him and said, "I needed that."

Giving him one last scratch beneath his chin, she said, "Okay, I've been adequately coddled. You can eat now." He immediately jumped from her lap and returned to his dinner. She rose from the floor and headed upstairs to shower.

After showering and putting on her pyjamas, she quickly twisted her hair into a knot on top of her head. She didn't bother with drying it anymore, as it didn't seem to do much good one way or the other. It still resembled a rat's nest either way.

She heard the whoosh of the floo downstairs and then Ginny's voice saying, "'Mi, we brought you dinner."

Of course, they did, she thought with a smile. She checked her reflection in the mirror, making sure she looked remotely presentable and went downstairs.

They must've not heard her coming down, because she overheard Harry saying, "I know, Gin. I know. But she just insists she's fine. We can't make her get help."

She stood outside the kitchen in disbelief knowing they were talking about her.

"She only leaves the house to go to work. She barely even comes downstairs most evenings. And after blowing up the closet last night? You said she didn't even realize she had done it."

It was an accident!

"And Ron said-"

"I know what Ron said," Harry said, cutting her off. "Suggesting she go to a 'nuthouse' is only going to upset her."

Nuthouse? Do they think I'm crazy?

Clearly, Harry didn't enjoy the conversation, but Ginny didn't want to let up. "I know you don't want to hurt her, but at this point, I think allowing her to battle it on her own is hurting her worse."

She heard one of the chairs slide away from the table and someone sit down roughly. Hearing Harry's sigh a split second later let her know it must've been him. Now that they were speaking just barely above a whisper, she entered the room noisily to get their attention.

Harry sat up quickly, and Ginny, who had been leaning over him, removed her arms from around his shoulders and stood up. They both started to say 'hi' at the same time, obviously attempting to appear as if they weren't just talking about her.

Harry was still wearing his dark gray Auror training robes, and his hair was standing on end even more than usual. She thought he must've been pulling his hands through it again, a nervous habit he had picked up on their horcrux hunt, but she hadn't seen him do it since the war ended.

This is what I'm doing to him, she thought, once again feeling the burden she was laying on her friend's shoulders. Friends who had already been through enough.

"Hey, 'Mi, we brought you General Tso's," Ginny said, lifting the bag of Chinese take-away. Her red hair was pulled back in a tight bun, like she always wore for quidditch.

Hermione sat down across from them and began removing her food from the bag. "Thank you for dinner. I hadn't even got around to making something yet." Nodding toward Ginny, she asked, "You didn't have practice today?"

Ginny sat down beside Harry and summoned the tea tray from off the counter. "We did for a bit. But one of our beaters took a bat to the face and had to go to St. Mungo's. So, I have the night off." She smiled brightly as if she wasn't discussing a woman's face getting smashed by a bat.

Hermione shook her head, looking at both of them. "Crazy, the lot of you. You'd think after being surrounded by a bunch of die-hard Quidditch fanatics, I would be used to it by now, but nope." Stabbing a piece of chicken with her flimsy plastic fork, she added, "Your dismissive attitude toward physical injury constantly surprises me."

Ginny and Harry both laughed, having had this conversation dozens of times over the years.

"That's part of the fun, right?" he asked, looking at Ginny. "It wouldn't be near as entertaining if there wasn't the constant threat of death."

"And we haven't had enough of that in the last seven years?" Hermione asked, a little more harshly than she intended to. Noticing their glances toward one another, she sat her fork down. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she closed her eyes and added, "I'm sorry. I'm being ridiculous." She took a deep breath and smiled, "Regardless of my distaste for the sport and your friend's injury, I'm glad that you have the night off. Two nights in a row, no less."

Hermione could see both of them relax. As they began making their tea, Ginny said, "Ron mentioned that he came by your office today." Without looking up from her food, Hermione could see Harry slightly turn toward Ginny, giving her an irritated look.

Wanting to see what else Ron may have mentioned, she merely said, "Yes. He did," without looking up from her meal.

The three sat in silence for a moment, with only the sounds of Ginny's spoon in her tea, Hermione's chewing, and Harry awkwardly shifting in his chair.

After another minute, Ginny gave a loud, exasperated sigh, "He said you completely fell apart in the middle of your office and he was afraid to even leave you alone."

"Ginny!" Harry shouted.

"Well, you both know I'm not known for subtlety," Ginny said, waving her hands in front of her as if that explained everything.

Hermione put her fork down and looked up finally. "First off, Ron gossips like an old woman." She pushed the takeaway box away from her, and, giving them both a scathing look, said, "I did not completely fall apart."

Harry was barely looking at her. He appeared to be battling between feelings of fear and embarrassment. Ginny, on the other hand, seemed to be determinedly searching Hermione's face for the truth.

"He essentially barged into my office and broke up with me. Of course, I'd get a little emotional."

Ginny looked incredulous. "Broke up with you? Hermione, you're barely ever in the same room as him – "

"Well after running to you both like an old biddy, I'll be sure to not be in the same room with him now." She stood, preparing to leave the conversation as quickly as possible.

Harry stood as well, saying, "Hermione, he wasn't trying to gossip. He's worried about you. We're all worried – "

"Is that why you want to send me to a 'nuthouse?' Because you're all so worried about me?" She spat this at them, hoping they'd feel even a little bit of the pain she was feeling at the moment.

Ginny and Harry glanced at one another quickly before Ginny sighed and asked, "You heard us, then?"

Hermione could feel tears welling up in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall, not after realizing they both already thought she was incredibly fragile. "Yes, I heard you. I didn't realize I had become such a bother to everyone."

Harry's face softened, and she saw him as he was at 11, so small and wounded. She immediately regretted wanting him to ever feel any pain, much less what she felt every day.

"Hermione. You're not a bother to anyone. You're … " His voice cracked, betraying his otherwise flat expression. He looked away from her, shuffling his feet uncomfortably, and cleared his throat. Turning back to face her, he said, "You're my best friend. More than that, even. You're like my sister. An older, annoying sister, but a sister nonetheless." He smirked at her, trying to ease the tension in the room.

Feeling clammy, Hermione sat back down and dropped her head into her hands. "I know. I know."

Ginny walked around the table to sit beside her and placed a hand around her shoulders. "Hermione, nobody thinks you're a burden at all. We're all just worried about you. Ron wasn't trying to talk badly about you either. He's just concerned about what's going on with you. Last night you could've seriously hurt someone or yourself. Accidental magic isn't supposed to happen after you've gotten a wand." Pulling Hermione's hand from her face, Ginny said, "Please just talk to us."

Hermione looked up at her and allowed her tears to fall. "I don't know what's wrong with me, Gin."

Harry sat back down across from them.

Ginny took Hermione's hands in her own and turned their chairs to face one another. "I also know your nightmares haven't stopped. Why else would you have silencing charms over your room?" When Hermione blinked at her quizzically, Ginny cocked her head to the side and exasperatedly said, "I have a big family, if you haven't noticed, and we all have kinks, parents included. I'm well versed in silencing charms. I can't even hear you rolling over in bed, 'Mi."

Hermione dropped her head. "It didn't do any good when you came to sit with me anyways. I still saw the same things when I closed my eyes, whether you were there or not. I didn't want to keep bothering you both."

Harry leaned onto the table and said, "Hermione, you followed me into a war and never batted an eye. To sit in your room while you relive the hell you went through because of me isn't a bother at all."

The sincerity in his voice and knowing how much it hurt him to believe that he had caused all the struggles she was facing just made her cry even harder. It's no wonder Ron said I 'fell apart,' she thought.

Ginny pulled her into a hug, and, looking over her shoulder, she saw Harry remove his glasses to wipe his eyes as well. This just crumbled her. I'm causing this. I'm hurting him, and he's already suffered so much. With this thought came a growing pain in her chest. It started with the familiar small tightening but this time it slowly began to build.

Ginny was still rubbing her back and trying to console her, but as soon as the pain in her chest intensified, Hermione tried to pull away. Ginny, taking this as a sign that she was once again going to brush off her problems, just hugged her tighter and said, "Hermione, please don't tell me you're fine. You aren't –"

"I can't breathe. I can't breathe. Something's wrong." Ginny pulled away to look into her face, clearly worried now for more than just Hermione's mental health.

Harry stood up and came around the table, but as soon as he started to kneel down, Hermione jumped to her feet. She began pacing the length of the table, back and forth, shaking her hands and clenching her fists. "Something's wrong. Something's wrong." I can't breathe, and my hands are tingling, she thought, but for some reason she couldn't make the words come out of her mouth.

Harry grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to stop and look at him. Her face was flush, and she was shaking all over. Harry said, "Hermione, stop. Look at me." She slapped his hands away and collapsed onto her knees. Placing both hands into her hair, she tried desperately to catch her breath.

It's Bellatrix's spell. I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I can't breathe. "Something's wrong. Something's wrong, Harry."

She heard Harry tell Ginny to call for a healer, and she was vaguely aware of Ginny's fearful look before she ran toward the fireplace.

Harry was sitting in front of her now, trying to get her to look at him.

"Something's wrong. Something's wrong." I'm going to die. I'm going to die.