Disclaimer: As always, I don't own Harry Potter.

A/N: I know I haven't been posting lately; I promise I have been writing though. I start my Masters in September and I'm trying to write as many chapters as I can before then, so posting might take a back seat. Thanks for your patience! Xx HogwartsPrincess89

A week later saw Hermione sitting in her parents' living room sipping tea and waiting for her mother to fetch her father. She had been giving them space since they came back, but they were her parents, and she needed to set things right. Work had been dreadfully boring, even to her, as she had only attended information sessions and training. Lunch was her favourite part of the day because she, Ron, and Harry would all go out for something in London.

She sipped her tea nervously. It was green, done just the way she liked it with a hint of strength at the back of her throat that meant it was suitably dark. It was hot but just cool enough to drink and still steaming. She looked around the room and realized how strange it was to be back in her childhood home after so many years and significant events. She could still recall being very little and not yet knowing she was a witch. She had broken every picture frame on the mantel behind her.

The back door opened; her father had been mowing the lawn. She heard him washing up, and her mother reappeared with a smile that let Hermione breathe a little. They still loved her. She could do this. Her father grabbed a cup of tea without looking at her and sat down beside her mother and across from Hermione.

"So." He said, finally meeting her eyes. "I think you'd better tell us everything from the beginning because I suspect there's rather a lot of things you kept from us the moment you went to Hogwarts."

"Yes, I suppose there are." Hermione agreed softly. She set down her teacup. "It all started when Harry, Ron, and I defeated a fully-grown mountain troll. Well, technically, it started when we happened upon a three-headed dog in the forbidden third-floor corridor, but they didn't become my friends until the troll. And if they hadn't become my friends, then nothing would have happened the way it did."

The story came quite easily, and Hermione found that telling it was quite cathartic, especially to her parents. She talked and talked for hours with minimal interruptions from them, and she had gotten almost through their third year by the end of her visit. She had no idea how she would keep it together through tales of the more recent years, but she put that firmly out of her mind and focused on the story she was presently telling.

She was telling them everything as it had happened from her point of view, so her parents found out details when they had at the time. Afterwards, they both hugged her, and her father even kissed her cheek. Progress. She could breathe again. She waved to her parents and walked down the street. There was a nice deserted forest the next block over where she could safely disapparate home.

Home. That was what their condo had become. The two-bedroom, two and a half bath had become their home, the place where she and Ron had a life that they shared together. Hermione could scarcely believe it was her life. They had some routines, but not too many, and life was never dull. She had found Crookshanks, or rather he had found her, hiding with the ghoul in the attic of the Burrow, and it was beyond entertaining to see Ron interacting with him. He still claimed to be less than fond of the half-kneazle, but Hermione caught him scratching Crooks' ears when he thought she wasn't looking. It made her heart happy to see her two grouchy ginger boys together.

She had been having a lot of feelings about Ron recently. She had been having a lot of feelings with him, too. She loved him more than ever, and it was terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time. Thank Godric she was a Gryffindor, because this relationship stuff was scary.

"Hermione?" Speak of the devil. "How was your parents'?" She hung her coat on their coat rack and slipped into their living room, so different from where she had grown up. He was sitting in a chair with his feet on the coffee table, reading a copy of the latest Seeker Weekly. He set it down as she came in, and she gave him a quick kiss before settling onto the sofa across from him.

"Good. They asked me to tell them everything that's happened to us since our first year, and it feels good to tell the entire story finally. I had to keep so much from them."

He nodded. "How are they taking it?"

"Pretty well." She responded. "I mean, they know that a lot of it was dangerous, so they're not as freaked by what I'm saying, but still. I mean, the things we did were shocking. I opened with the mountain troll and Fluffy, and they're only the tip of the iceberg."

Ron chuckled. "You can say that again. I wonder how they'll take you illegally brewing Polyjuice potion in Myrtle's bathroom."

"Actually, they took that shockingly well. I'm up to third year right when Harry and I are about to go back in time."

"And you stopped the story there?" He asked incredulously.

"Well, I had to come home: we can't be late to Sunday dinner."

He put his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. "I mean, we could be a little late." His hands roamed lower. She slapped his arms.

"Absolutely not. George is a menace without giving him extra ammunition." She scolded, pulling away from him. She knew Ron thought she could resist her feelings when she needed to, but the truth was she was quite regretful about having to tell him to stop.

He sighed. "Later." She promised, eyes dark, and then whirled away from him. She smiled at his tortured groan and swept up the stairs to change.

Sunday dinner was an uneventful affair, something that Hermione would find to become a rarity in the years to follow. Everyone talked about the newfound boringness and routine to their lives, and Hermione found herself to be the only one who resented this a bit. She knew this was what they had fought for, but her new job was dreadfully boring and she had no idea how she was supposed to endure it every day for eight hours for the foreseeable future. It was her plan to rise up the ranks somehow, but at the moment she just wanted some sort of case from her department or for management to actually listen to her.

She never used her position as war heroine for perks, but damn if it shouldn't count for something at her job. Why else had they hired her? She sighed to herself. Well, she was supposed to have finished training last Friday, so she hoped she would actually get to do something interesting tomorrow.

She and Ron headed home to their condo where she made good on her earlier promise until much later than she should have. She awoke the next morning bright and early; angry at the day for arriving and ruining her peaceful slumber. Ron's arms were heavy around her and they tightened as she tried to get up. She rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

"Ron." He pretended to be asleep. "I need to go to work, and so do you." One eye blinked open.

"Call in sick."

"Do you even know me?" She asked, incredulous that he would even suggest such a thing. He chuckled and the sound was thick and deep, as he was still in the last vestiges of sleep. She shivered at the sound.

"Okay, okay." He relented, his arms snaking away from her, reminding her ludicrously of devil's snare. She really needed to get more sleep.

Half an hour later she was dressed and ready. Ron had just come out of the shower, his hair wet and messy. Her eyes betrayed her and travelled the length of his body. Dimly, she wondered what on earth had happened to prissy, naïve, innocent, know-it-all Hermione Granger. She decided it came with growing up. Well, and living through a war. Although, she grinned, she was still a know-it-all.

Ron pressed a kiss to her lips and she could taste his mouthwash. "See you after work." He said, striding past her to get dressed. She stared at him for a moment as he threw the towel off carelessly. Her lungs constricted and she found she couldn't breathe. She spun around before he could see her face and walked carefully down to the floo.

She was grateful for not having to step into a toilet that morning. She stepped into the atrium and smiled to herself at the bustle of the ministry, so different from how it had been when they had infiltrated it almost a year ago. The whole tone felt different. She offered Percy a smile as she climbed in the lift. He was standing next to a pretty brunette and they appeared to be in the middle of a heated discussion. He smiled at her and returned to his conversation. She sighed as she got off on level four. She waved to Percy as she got out. He waved back, barely sparing her a glance.

As she walked through the corridor to the main office, she could tell something was wrong. There was murmuring all along the corridor, which seemed to be shrouded in an air of desolation. She walked faster. She entered the office and found Kingsley himself standing in front of her, his expression somber.

"Minister Shacklebolt." She said, surprised and more than a little wary.

"Miss Granger." He returned. "Have a seat." She sat. "Prickle died last night of heart failure." He told her, his deep voice calm. Her mouth dropped open in shock. Prickle had been her boss. "That means you are now head of the department." He continued. Hermione opened and closed her mouth as she continued to gape at him.

"But…" she sputtered. "I just finished orientation! I haven't any experience! What about everyone else? Surely the more senior members want this over me."

Kingsley shook his head. "There are no senior members." He said softly and her mouth pressed into a firm line. She knew exactly why that was.

He handed her some papers to sign. She read them thoroughly before signing her name on the bottom of the crisp scrolls. "Congratulations Miss Granger. You're now Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Oh, and rather ironically, there happens to be a Heads meeting at 3 today. Can you make it?"

"I'll find a way." She murmured, dazed. She had liked Prickle and she certainly hadn't wanted to move up this way. Kingsley put a hand on her shoulder and then left. Hermione sat there in stunned silence for a moment before shaking herself.

She was Hermione Granger, and she had a job to do. She made her way to the only senior-ish member of the department; John Wellington. He had been friendly and open, and she hoped she would find an ally in him. "Wellington." She addressed him. He turned to face her and his mouth quirked up in a smile.

"Congrats on the promotion, boss." He had a delightful cockney accent and brown eyes that always twinkled.

"Yes, well. Thanks. It's quite sudden. I was hoping you could help me."

"Anything boss." He said easily. She pursed her lips.

"Hermione's fine." He inclined his head to her, pulling himself up to sit on top of a filing cabinet. She ignored this. "I really have no idea how the financials are handled or who the staff even are."

"We're the staff. As for the financials, I usually handle them. If that's alright." He added as an afterthought. She sighed in relief.

"That is acceptable. What do you mean we're the only staff?" She asked, frowning.

"Well there are the secretaries and couriers. But the only staff who actually did anything were me and Prickle. And you, starting this week. The department seems to work better that way. We have liaisons within the Department of International Magical Cooperation but even them we rarely see. Our..." he paused "clients, prefer dealing with as little people as possible, considering the current climate and sentiments regarding most of them."

Hermione digested all of this quickly and decided much was going to change. "Not anymore they don't." She said decisively. Wellington's eyebrows jumped up his face as he looked at her in amusement. "What else did you deal with before Wellington?"

"John." He corrected. "I headed half of the beast division. Which means," he continued, noting her expression, "that I headed the werewolf registry, centaur liaison office, office for house-elf relocation, and the pest advisory board. The aurors headed the werewolf capture unit." He added grimly. Hermione put a hand to her mouth in horror. He continued. "Prickle headed the being division, the committee for the disposal of dangerous creatures, the dragon research and restraint bureau, the ghoul task force, and the spirit division. Can I be honest with you, Hermione?"

She nodded. "Please."

"None of these divisions actually did much of anything, especially anything good. They were formalities to soothe the public and make it look like work was being done. They were a front for tracking and control." He said bluntly. "I loved Prickle, but she went right along with it."

"I don't intend to do that." Hermione said, eyes burning with righteous indignation.

"I didn't think you did." He chuckled. "I just want you to know what you're walking into."

"I greatly appreciate your assistance." She said earnestly.

He smiled, eyes crinkling. "Anytime. I have the feeling you're going to completely revolutionize the way the wizarding world looks at magical creatures. I'd like to be along for the ride." He held out his hand. Hermione grabbed it, smiling, and shook it.

"I look forward to our partnership." And with that, she set to working out a plan for completely revamping the department. She walked down to John's office and deposited a thick stack of papers in front of him with a resounding thunk. He looked up from his work with wide eyes.

"What's this then?"

"My plan for revolutionizing this department." She grinned. "I plan to present a much more concise version of it at the department heads meeting in an hour, but I wanted another pair of eyes to look through it first, if you don't mind."

"Of course not. Our financials are clean, they can wait." She inclined her head, and then left him to his reading.

She went and introduced herself to their secretaries and couriers as well as their liaison in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, who happened to be the brunette Percy had been talking to that morning. It turns out her name was Audrey Campbell, and she was Magical Cooperation's liaison for just about everything. Unfortunately, Hermione had only a short amount of time to talk to everyone before she returned to see what Wellington thought of her plan.

He was waiting at the door when she returned, bursting with energy. "It's genius, inspired. I love it." She grinned, high-fiving him before gathering a binder with the shorter version and walking towards the lift. She rode it three floors up to the floor that held the Minister and his support staff's offices.

The look on the newly appointed Head Auror Harry Potter's face as she walked in the door was nothing short of priceless. He was absolutely dumbfounded at her presence. "Hermione?" He asked incredulously.

"That's Hermione Granger, head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, to you." His mouth dropped open. She smirked.

The Minister walked in, putting an end to their discussion. This meeting was a formality for Kingsley to talk about how things would be functioning differently after the war. Hermione presented her proposal and there were a few objections, but she had planned for them in advance and promptly shut them down.

Today was a success, but she fully expected to be dragged in front of the Wizengamot more than once before this was over. For the first time, she appreciated Lucius Malfoy's alliances and scheming. It was dreadfully difficult to do anything in this building without connections. Lucky for her, she had quite a few.

She headed home happy and exhausted. She had finally been challenged in her job and it was electrifying. She couldn't wait to go home and tell Ron all about it. After melting into his arms, of course.

She walked through the door to an incredibly sensual scene. Ron was cooking. He jabbed his wand at a pot on the stove, aromas swirling around the air of their home. Magic and spices surrounded him, and Hermione had never seen a sight so domestic yet so alluring. He turned to set down a plate and caught sight of her. She felt hot all over and was pretty sure he could read her thoughts as her body responded instinctively. He pulled the fully cooked pasta off of the stove and shut it off before muttering a stasis charm and promptly snogging the daylights out of her. Merlin, she would never tire of him.

An hour later they finally sat down to dinner. "So." Ron said, hair adorably dishevelled. "Harry tells me you've managed to become head of the department after a week of orientation." He grinned indulgently at her and she couldn't help but mirror his smile.

"Unfortunately, I got it because Prickle died over the weekend." Ron's face turned grave.

"That's right. Harry mentioned something this morning but I didn't make the connection that it was your boss. I'm sorry."

Hermione nodded, not knowing what to say. She had liked her boss, but she hadn't had enough time to become attached enough to grieve overly much for her demise. "Thanks."

"Harry also says you had a massive plan that you unveiled to the department heads on how to revamp the department." He raised an eyebrow, amused. "I assume this meanings a revolution of the entire world?"

Hermione blushed, avoiding his knowing gaze. "Perhaps." She said, swirling the wine in her glass. He shook his head fondly.

"I do love you, you mad witch."

"I love you too." She said despite the glare she sent him. They bickered slightly over dishes, laundry, and Crookshanks, and then retired to their couch. Ron was watching their telly in fascination while she read, her legs on his lap. Hermione had never felt love like this with anyone before and the strength of it in every moment alarmed and charmed her. No matter the situation; whether they were arguing, sitting in silence, apart, or making love; she loved him with an intensity that scared her. She realized in that moment that she wanted to marry him. She wanted to be his, wanted him to be hers, forever.

Her eyes strayed to the picture of them holding Teddy the day after the final battle. She wanted that. Who would have guessed? Domestic life had never been something she had wanted until him. She realized suddenly that she had been completely neglecting her book. That had never happened to her before him either. She smiled, heart bursting, before turning her attention back to The History of Werewolves in Wizarding Britain, enjoying his company.