A/N: Just thought to let you know that Harry Potter belongs to someone else, and I gain no profit from this work other than practice and a fun time writing, not to mention the happiness/ amusement that I gain from the sweet comments XD 3 (✿ヘᴥヘ)

They had so much fun at the lake that day that they unanimously agreed to return on Sunday. The next morning, however, they grudgingly returned to the office, albeit slightly more refreshed and energized than they would have been on the usual work day.

Back in their days as students at Hogwarts, Mondays had always been Hermione's favorite day of the week, when she could re-immerse herself in her classes as an effective method of distraction from all the going-ons of life. She had never really shared this with Ron, Ginny, or even Harry, but the truth was that part of the reason why she always put the effort in to work so much harder than the average student was not just because she loved to learn, but because she had always felt this strong need to prove herself, prove that she was a bright witch who did indeed deserve her magic, despite being a muggle-born. She was aware of how wrong this thought process was, and she knew that she mustn't let that fact bring her down - her friends were proud to remind her every so often that she was "the brightest witch of her age," but then again, old habits die hard.

It didn't help that she had been the only Gryffindor muggle-born in her year (that is, excluding Dean Thomas, with whom there was a viable chance that his dad was actually a wizard; he just had no proof, and most people were under the impression that he was a half-blood anyway), not to mention that the pure-blooded prejudiced bigots such as the infamous Draco Malfoy and his Slytherin gang constantly bullied her throughout their years at Hogwarts for her "mudblood" status. Thanks to Bellatrix, the scar on her forearm would always be there to remind her of that fact.

However, she didn't blame Malfoy. She and the others (Ginny, Harry, and Ron) had come to understand that back then, he was just a boy shoved into a role with too many expectations, and like any son, all he wanted was to please his father, to make him proud. She recalled how depressed and worn-out he had appeared throughout all of their sixth year, with terrible bags under his eyes and an almost sickly, more pale tone than usual to his skin. Little did they know that the entire year he had been dragged down, carrying such an enormous burden and task on his back with the threat that he and his family would be killed, brutally murdered if he didn't complete it, didn't succeed in it. The fact that he was too scared to tell Dumbledore or ask him for help was not really cowardice; it was out of fear, but it was explanation enough for why he wasn't sorted into Gryffindor.

She remembered how helplessly petrified he had looked, a mask of horror on his face as he stood there, watching Bellatrix torture her. And they would always be appreciative of the time he had bought them by feigning uncertainty, pretending that he couldn't recognize Harry back in Malfoy Manor.

They had made amends with Malfoy after the war and gotten to know him slightly through a few afternoon teas, but the rough childhood history between them could never get them past calling each other by their surnames, in her most humble opinion. Ron in particular couldn't really come to terms with the fact that they were even on speaking terms with him, much less friends, although he was never upfront about it. Nevertheless, it was quite the improvement, for Malfoy had reformed himself completely, and from what she heard from Ginny, he had made quite the name for himself as a substitute Quidditch player - for what team, however, she could not recall.

Now, on the other hand, she absolutely dreaded Mondays and having to return to work. Yeah, she enjoyed her job, the pay was good, and her co-workers were nice, but they didn't understand her or truly know her the way her real friends did. They just thought of her as Harry Potter's best friend, the Brains of the Golden Trio, and the Brilliant Sidekick to the Great Savior of the Wizarding World. She had all these expectations thrown onto her, and like her old adolescent self, she still felt the ridiculous urge to strive to not just meet but to exceed those expectations, as if she owed something more to them, to the world. Being an introvert, the fact that she always wanted to drown herself in her work in order to avoid socializing with her co-workers was also a playing factor.

Slinging her handbag over the shoulder of her arm chair, she sat down and swept the mountains of paperwork on her desk over a bit, clearing away an area for her to open the case files that Harry had handed her earlier that morning. It was all the information on the Parkinsons' case.

Looking through the papers, she frowned as she noticed that there were barely any notes on Pansy Parkinson. Hermione was not one to hold grudges, and she knew that she was underage at the time, still a student like them, and misguided by her parents when she fought on Voldemort's side during the Last Battle, but according to the paperwork here, she had gotten away scot-free, not to mention without so much as a trial. Apparently the one to authorize Pancy's bail and later her release had been the Head of the Auror Department at the time, so there must have been a good reason for it. Hermione decided that she would ask Harry if he knew anything about it before the meeting they planned to have later that day at 1:00 P.M. with the Deputy Chief of the Auror Department. It would have been preferable to have the meeting alone with Harry; she knew that they were perfectly capable of discussing it and making educated decisions themselves, but legally-speaking, it was necessary to have Harry's superior with them for such a highly-classified case.

Hermione sighed, brushing her finger over the crisp manila folders. She set the files aside and began her own work, starting by tackling the lawsuits associated with the case on the murders this past weekend in London.

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Hermione had just eaten her lunch, and now she was rushing over to the Deputy Head Auror's office for their meeting. Glancing at her watch, noticing that it was a minute past one o'clock already, she assumed that Harry was already inside. Swinging the door closed behind her, she came face-to-face with a tall, heavy-built, almost intimidating man with coffee-colored hair that was swept to the side, almost as if it had been glazed by the wind.

He held his hand out, introducing himself, "Miles Bletchley, at your service."

Hermione gaped, "You! You're the Slytherin who jinxed Alicia Spinnet's eyebrows back in fifth year!"

"Was that her name?" he muttered. "Anyway," he continued, "as you can see, I've changed. You didn't hear what she said before I jinxed her. She was Gryffindor Chaser, and I was Slytherin Keeper, but that's besides the point. What I'm trying to say is, how do you think I became an auror, much less the superior of Harry Potter of all people, if I hadn't been found trustworthy by Kingsley? And you trust your most revered Minister, don't you?"

Hesitantly, Hermione outstretched her hand. "Alright then, I suppose we're starting over. I apologize if I came across as outspoken. I don't think we've ever properly met? Hermione Granger, pleased to meet you."

Bletchley smiled in response, giving her hand a firm shake before motioning for her to sit down on one of the plush leather-cushioned chairs in front of his desk. She seated herself and looked around his office. An awkward silence lingered for a good two minutes until Hermione asked, "So, how did you become an auror?"

He looked surprised by her question, but answered earnestly. "Like your friend Potter did, obviously," he stated with an eye-roll. "I joined the auror training program after graduating Hogwarts." He grinned before saying, "No, but really, I was never too enticed by the idea of the dark arts and becoming one of the Dark Lord's goons. My father obviously wanted me to join the Death Eaters, because of family honor and all that B.S. But I had different ideas. I convinced my parents that I could become an auror, and my cover-up was that I could help provide information for the Dark Lord through the Ministry. However, I wasn't much use to them after they imperiused Scrimgeour, so they kind of forgot about me with all the stuff that was going on at the time."

Hermione couldn't help but be a little suspicious, but she decided that for now at least, she would play nice and at least pretend to accept his story. Nevertheless, she kept her senses on red-alert as always, simply as a precaution. It seemed that these precautions were always necessary in her life. The two continued to engage in small talk for the next few minutes, meagerly attempting to break the ice a bit. It became especially awkward when they once again returned to the topic of how nice the weather had been for the past few days, when Harry finally walked in, out of breath.

"Sorry I'm late," he gasped, glancing at Hermione with an apologizing look from the corner of his eye before sitting down next to her, nodding at Fletchley. "I just came back from a mission."

"It's quite alright. We were waiting for you. Now onto business. We don't have much time," Fletchley slid a printed photograph to the two across his desk. "That is the suspect. She was spotted just yesterday near the scene of the muggle murder in London. And our facial detection spells spotted a slight match between her face, and the face of the girl from Parkinson's memory. I want you two to go and investigate the parameters of the block of flats on the corner of Charing Cross Road, just past the Leaky Cauldron. Try to find evidence of who the murderer could be. If we're lucky, which I think we will be, then this case will be in the bag before we know it."

"Wait, I was assigned to look over the case notes for that murder just this morning. And it was concluded that it wasn't magic-related?" Hermione stared questioningly. "And shouldn't we conduct a further examination of the memories? And perhaps question Parkinson a bit more?" she added.

"Yeah, Fletchley, Hermione's right. As far as I was concerned, that's what this meeting was going to be about anyway," Harry quickly agreed.

Fletchley remained stoic, even under Harry and Hermione's harsh stares. He stood up and walked over to the door while saying, "I think we have enough information to move on. Best to get this case over with. It doesn't seem too serious - we shouldn't waste our time with it. And by the way, what you saw in the case file, Granger, was a false lead. Now, I expect you back, Potter, with your report by the end of the day." He added, "I've requested an additional auror to go with you for back-up. He should be waiting in your office." He opened the door, ushering them out. "Best of luck."

Hermione and Harry glumly strode out, walking through the hallway, Hermione following Harry to his office to meet whoever was supposed to come with them. On the way, Hermione shook her head, disapprovingly mumbling, "The audacity..."

Before reaching the door, Harry turned to Hermione and cast a Muffliato. "Now, I didn't say anything in there because Fletchley is my superior, and if he wanted to, he could take me off this investigation entirely. But it's absolutely outrageous that this guy, this conniving Slytherin of a man thinks he has the authority to say that this case is not too serious!" he ranted.

"I don't like him either, Harry," she said in a hushed voice, "The way he talked to you was beyond me, but we have to do what he says. And if it doesn't work out, we'll take it to Kingsley, and he can sort Fletchley out." Hermione became distracted by her sudden proximity to Harry's face, as she drew in a sharp intake of breath, but as soon as she noticed, someone burst out the door from Harry's office.

"Harry, ol' pal! Nice to see you again!" the young man gave Harry a clap on the back. "And you must be Hermione Granger! What a pleasure it is to finally meet you!" he cheerily exclaimed while earnestly shaking her hand, "Harry's told me all about you! Apparently we're assigned together? To check out that murder by the Leaky Cauldron I think? Oh, I should probably introduce myself. I'm Liam."

"Nice to meet you too," Hermione said, slowly nodding. The man in question was a little bit shorter than her and Harry, rather lean, with dark-colored eyes, auburn hair of a more vibrant shade of red than any of the Weasleys, and a freshly-shaved face. She was not nearly as overwhelmed by his obvious excitement to see them as she would have been a few years ago; over time, she had gotten used to it, although it still made her feel a bit uncomfortable.

Harry clasped her hand tightly, hastily grabbing ahold of Liam's arm too before he said, "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go," as they apparated. They each felt a squeezing sensation in their stomachs before they found themselves outside the Leaky Cauldron.

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A/N: So I initially thought that I was going to include the investigation in this chapter, but I realized that I already had like 2000 words. So I decided to just publish it like this. But expect another chapter soon! Feel free to vote and/or comment with any corrections and/or suggestions! Thanks so much for reading! Until next time! 3 3 3 :)