A/N: You might see some improvements spelling, grammer, or story-wise in this chapter and the updated chapter three. This is due to Haggridd, my new beta-reader. He is awesome beyond imagination, which I don't tell him enough!

Thanks to Arianna Spellcaster, minx, Fallen Darkness, ~Chupacabra~, and Hydra a.k.a Serpentense for your kind words. Extra thanks to minx, Fallen Darkness, ~Chupacabra~, and Hydra a.k.a. Serpentense for reviewing more than one chapter. You guys are truly saints.

To everyone: Sorry it took awhile to get this out. I went back and redid Chapter Three. Any feedback is greatly appreciated. If you're not reading this on ff.net, please email all suggestions to reanna20@yahoo.com. I hope you enjoy this installment!

What A Good Girl - Chapter 4: Disappointments

Hermione hurled herself into the Interrogation Room the next morning without even making an attempt to appear calm. She slammed the door with such force that it bounced back open, startling everyone else who were already there.

"I hope you're both very happy," snapped Hermione, glaring at Mr. Quentin and Ms. Silvers. "I had the chance for a job interview today. It was for a research position, a position I had a good chance at getting. But I had to turn the interview down because I had to come here and answer your bloody questions about something that happened over three years ago!"

Ms. Silvers' eyes narrowed in irritation. "Ms. Granger, we have already gone over this issue. The Ministry will compensate you for any time spent here…"

"And just how long is that compensation likely to last?" Hermione interrupted, crossing her arms in a gesture of defiance. "A day? A week? Unlikely longer. A job is infinitely more desirable than compensation."

Mr. Quentin held out a calming hand. "Ms. Granger, if you are in financial troubles, the Ministry will…"

"Will do what, exactly? Give me a job? Every day the economy is diving lower and lower. Your precious Ministry won't do a blessed thing!" Hermione snarled at both of them. "You don't understand. That interview is a chance, and I had to give up that chance because you are too incompetent to catch a murderer!"

"Oh, come off it Hermione!" Ron rolled his eyes in disgust. "It's just an interview. Couldn't you have rescheduled it?"

Hermione stared at Ron, her gut clenching in frustration, her gaze gone cold. "That's just what I tried to do, Mister Weasley. After our happy reunion here at the Ministry, I had errands to do. I got back home to find an owl waiting for me, with a message about the interview. I spent all last evening Apparating everywhere, trying to find the contact to reschedule. When I finally caught up with the witch, it was at her home, Mister Weasley. She told me most emphatically that there were plenty of others who would want my interview slot, and that they couldn't see fit to change their arrangements to accommodate me. So...Ron...No...Interview!" Hermione enunciated each word carefully and clearly. "It wasn't in my power to reschedule. Not that you would understand with your family sinecure!"

Ron flushed at the insult. "Well, I hardly think you would have got the position anyway. I don't know anyone in the market for a traitor -- even if she is a boring, brainy, know-it-all!"

Hermione gaped at Ron. That lousy worthless no-good git…Thoroughly fed up, she gave a wordless shriek and whirled around. Without a second thought, she was out of the room and walking briskly down the hallway.

A moment later she heard the door open behind her. Knowing that it had to be one of the Aurors, Hermione broke into a run. If she could reach the levivator…

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Hermione's arms and legs sprang together and she fell flat on her face, skidding from the momentum. Unable to move a muscle, she fumed at the sound of the footsteps slowly approaching.

"If I remove the body-bind, Ms. Granger, will you promise not to run off?"

Hermione gritted her teeth. If only I had my wand, there would be no such promises. "Fine. I won't run," she spat after a moment.

AIC Silvers raised her wand and chanted, "Finite Incantatem!"

As the spell evaporated, Hermione levered herself into a sitting position, her back against the corridor wall. Ignoring the Ministry witch, she sat with no intention of moving.

Ms. Silvers stood stiffly, her voice now only slightly less rigid. "Ms. Granger, will you please come back to the room now?"

"No," mumbled Hermione, burying her head into her arms. "I don't feel like spending any more time with two people who loathe me. I don't feel like trying again to answer questions I couldn't answer three years ago. I don't feel like remembering a time that I wish I could forget. No Ms. Silvers, I will not. I feel like either going back to my flat, or sitting here on the floor. Since you won't allow me to do the former, I'll do the latter."

The Auror witch hesitated. "Ms. Granger, there will be other interviews. This is hardly a reason to throw a tantrum."

Hermione laughed roughly. "Your compassion is overwhelming. I couldn't care less what you think. You're not the one who has been trying to find a job for two months without success. Your bank account at Gringott's hasn't been dwindling with every day. You don't have a worried mother calling all the time to find out whether you have a job yet, Ms. Silvers!"

"I'm sorry Ms. Granger, you're correct on all points." Ms. Silvers lowered herself to the floor to sit beside Hermione. " I shouldn't try and make the situation less than it is. But," she continued, "there is a very dangerous wizard at large right now, at this very moment, whom I have to try and find. If I don't, more people may die. You're someone who can help me -- help us -- know the murderer better."

"As I said before, I don't care," Hermione said to her knees. "These hypothetical people weren't at the Downfall. They didn't - they weren't…" Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and tried to swallow the lump in her throat. "I've done my duty to the wizarding world. They can go stuff it."

"Ms. Granger, please look at me." Reluctant, Hermione opened her eyes and peered into Ms. Silvers' gray ones, which looked very, very weary. "I am asking you to cooperate. I would rather not have to force you back into that room. I don't want to make this process more painful than it has to be. I want to catch a murderer. I'm asking the witch whose sense of duty once saved the wizarding world to help one more time. I know that you are upset. I know you were insulted. I ask you to ignore that. Will you?"

Hermione bit her lip. Bloody Hell! Not again! Not…again. I've done enough. All I want is quiet and security. Surely defeating an evil wizard is worth that much! But Hermione knew, she knew, that she couldn't sit on the floor in a corridor of the Ministry of Magic forever -- and she didn't want to be hauled bodily back into the Interrogation Room. As always, I'll give in…

"Fine." Hermione surged to her feet, looking down at the Auror with her hands on her hips. "This is it, this is the last time. Finish your questions today."

After Ms. Silvers stood up, they both returned to the room. Hermione entered to find herself under the inspection of three sets of eyes. Those of Mr. Quentin looked indifferent, while Harry's eyes looked speculative, and Ron's, slightly guilty. Deciding to ignore them, Hermione just lifted her chin and took her seat without saying a word.

After Ms. Silvers settled herself and activated the Quick-Quotes Quill, her colleague cleared his throat. "We have a few more questions. We are particularly interested in this ritual that the late Tom Riddle attempted to perform. Ms. Granger, you have state that Mr. Potter was meant to release a flood of power, while you and Mr. Weasley were to help channel that power. Could you possibly elaborate?"

Before Hermione could say that she didn't know anything more, an orb slowly materialized over the middle of the table.

"What the…" Mr. Quentin frowned as a younger man's face appeared in it. "What is it?"

The man in the orb sighed. "We're having some trouble."

"Trouble?" Ms. Silvers pounced on the remark, her voice taking on an edge. "Would you care to be more specific?"

"The witness is not cooperating. He's asking for the Aurors in charge. He refuses to say a word until one of you two come."

Ms. Silvers swore softly. "Mr. Malfoy, if for once you would stop being difficult…" She pushed her chair quickly back and stood up. "I'm coming directly." The orb dissipated and Ms. Silvers turned to her partner. "Thomas, I'm going to go and deal with that slimy git -- unless, of course, you would rather take care of the matter?"

Mr. Quentin shook his head, a knowing smile playing about his lips. "Are you kidding, Gwen?

No, the pleasure is all yours. Have fun." She snorted back. "As much fun as tackling a mountain troll."

Ms. Silvers fixed her attention upon the trio. "Ms. Granger. Mr. Potter. Mr. Weasley. If you don't mind." She nodded to each of them in turn, and then swiftly left the room. Hermione turned back to see Mr. Quentin looking at her pleasantly.

"The spell, Ms. Granger?"

* * * *

Hermione sighed and shook her head in frustration. "Mr. Quentin, I tell you once again, I have no idea where the Death Eaters went after Voldemort died. I passed out after releasing the Iunctura Spell. When next I awoke, I was at St. Mungo's."

With a little cough, the Ministry wizard looked at his notes. "Mr. Potter? You have any idea?"

Harry raised his head off of the table. "No," was his succinct answer.

"Mr. Weasley?"

Ron gave an exaggerated sigh of exasperation. "Considering you've asked this question twice before, you would hardly expect a different answer this time. As I told you before, I was out of it before the spell was cast, so I have no idea where they went. Is this question even relevant? I was under the impression they all burned in the same fire that destroyed Vol -- You-Know-Who. At least, that's what the papers and Wizarding Wireless reported."

Upon hearing this, Mr. Quentin's expression became slightly uneasy. "Well, we're not sure. By the time the Aurors reached Riddle's Great Hall, there were quite a few burnt bodies, and lots of ash. Since none of you know how many Death Eaters were present, we cannot determine whether any survived." He gestured with his wand and the Quick-Quotes Quill stopped writing and fell to the table. "We have no more questions at this time. We greatly appreciate your…patience and cooperation. Your presence at the Ministry is no longer required. Unless…" Mr. Quentin added, giving them all a look, "Unless you want to take advantage of the Ministry's protection and remain here. The murderer has not been apprehended. Our offer is still open."

Harry stood and shook his head. "No. I need to be getting back, I've been gone long enough."

I wonder where he lives now? He was rooming at the Leaky Cauldron; surely not in London, then. Though curious about Harry, Hermione said only, "I'd rather go back to my flat. I still need to find a job and it'll be easier searching from home."

Ron snorted. "I hardly want to stay here a moment longer. So sorry Mr. Quentin. It seems that you've got no takers; and your Ministry's offer was 'So Appealing'."

The Auror shrugged. "I didn't think so. Well, you are all free to leave."

Eager to get away, Hermione exited with room with Harry and Ron. All three walked to the levivator; Ron anxiously ran ahead to activate it. They stood waiting, in nervous silence, until it arrived.

Up in the reception area, Hermione retrieved her wand. Finished and free to go, she hesitated. While she had no desire to be friends with Harry or Ron again, she felt she could not just leave without saying goodbye. She stood there awkwardly until Harry finished at the desk and turned around to see her.

"Good to see you Hermione. Take care." With those words, Harry quickly strode out the Ministry's front doors and vanished.

"You too," she said lamely at his swiftly retreating back. Hermione was then faintly surprised to see Ron staring after Harry with a hurt look in his eyes. He noticed her concerned look and scowled. "Have a nice life, Hermione." Sarcasm dripped from each word. "Have fun just studying forever." Frowning, he pushed past her and left.

Good riddance. Hermione gripped her wand and walked out as well.

* * * *

Hermione was poring over want ads one afternoon a few days later, when someone knocked at her door. Wondering whether she had forgot her mum was due for a visit, she opened the door cautiously and stuck her head out. She caught a quick glimpse at a mane of shocking red hair as her visitor squeezed through the open crack and flung her arms around her.

"Hermione!"

"Ms. Weasley?"

Virginia Weasley pulled back for Hermione to see her twinkling brown eyes and the dusting of freckles on her face. She wore indigo blue robes and a broad smile. "As if you could mistake me for anyone else! Surely you couldn't confuse me with my mother?" she said, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

Laughing weakly, Hermione ushered Ginny Weasley into her flat. Fortunately she had been in the cleaning frame of mind the day before; the place was fairly neat. After being reassured that Ginny didn't want anything to drink, they sat down on the small couch. "So, Ginny," she temporized, "What brings you here?"

The witch laughed. "Hermione, don't sound so nervous! I just came to visit. It's been, what, at least a year! I would have come by long before now if my job didn't keep me so busy."

"Oh! Right. You do…you work for…"

"Hermione! How could you forget?" Ginny winked. "Don't worry, you're not alone. Mum forgets what I do all the time-- or would like to. I'm in the theatre, remember?"

"Oh, that's right! Stage manager -- is that it?"

"Spot on! See, you do remember! It doesn't pay much but it keeps me happier than working for Fred and George ever did -- and keeps me busier too. I was managing a production of 'The Winter's Tale' for the Obscurus theatre. Somehow, it reminded me of you." Ginny grinned. "So, on my first free day in months, I looked you up, and here I am! You should consider yourself lucky!"

"I…I am. It is good to see you again." Hermione was surprised to realize that she really meant it.

"What about you Hermione? Still doing that R & D job for the Cleansweep firm?"

"No, that ended some time ago. I'm between assignments right now. The economy and all. I've been searching for something steady the past few months." Hermione summoned up a weak smile. "It hasn't exactly been a fruitful search."

Instantly, Ginny's expression became serious. "Oh, Hermione, I'm so sorry! You're all right -- financially, I mean? I don't make much but if things are going badly…"

Hermione quickly cut her off. "I'm fine Ginny. My parents have offered to help out if things get too bad. Besides I have some interviews…really soon." Her voice faltered. She was lying through her teeth. "So. Why don't you tell me all about the glamorous world of the wizarding theatre!"

"Well, it's hardly glamorous backstage. That's where I spend most of my time. Obscurus theatre is a small house. It only seats a hundred, but the repertoire is pretty eclectic. The Powers-That-Be have no qualms with showing both muggle and wizarding plays. That play by the muggle Shakespeare just finished its run, and "Quidditch Catastrophe!" by Matthew Sayre is now in production." Ginny was grinning again. "Quite a good play actually -- and challenging! No less than ten Illuminati Charms that have to be cast at different times…"

Hermione smiled and listened as Ginny went on excitedly about her job. Eventually she exhausted the subjects of magical lighting, set transfigurations, and the hang-ups of snippety actors. There was a slight pause as Ginny suddenly scrutinized Hermione. "I've blathered on long enough. What about you? Are you doing anything other than looking for a job?"

"Well…" Hermione hesitated. "A few days ago I was at the Ministry of Magic."

"Really? Why?"

"There's a new murderer at large." Hermione twisted her hands. "He seems to be copying Voldemort's murders. The head Aurors wanted me to tell them more details about the…the Downfall."

"That's new! I guess I need to get out from the theatre world more often to stay on top of what is happening in the Wizarding World." Ginny tilted her head significantly. "Did they question Harry and my flobberworm of a brother as well?"

"Yes, they were there too."

"And you haven't seen them since the Downfall, right?"

"Right."

"Oof, what a mess. You would think that the Ministry would use more tact. If only I had known! I could've warned you that Ron hasn't become any more polite through the years. Well, at least he's happy working for Fred and George. Takes being head of Sales very seriously, he does. He's always running off and meeting with any vendor that might want to stock magical jokes." Ginny rolled her eyes. "I'm sure having to go to the Ministry annoyed him royally. So how was it? Seeing them again, I mean? Or do you not want to talk about it?"

"No, I'm fine really. It was just -- odd. I mean Ron's hair…"

"Wasn't the signature Weasley red? Nobody mentions it much. It was normal when you three went off to fight Voldemort. When next I saw him at Mungo's, it has become dark auburn." Ginny shrugged. "The doctors thought that it was an aftereffect of that spell you three were carrying. I've gotten used to the look, though."

"In my mind's eye, I pictured him at age seventeen. It was strange to see him suddenly twenty years old. Harry looked even stranger, if you can believe that."

"How do you mean? I've heard nothing about him since the media feeding frenzy after the Downfall. Strike that. I've heard plenty of rumors but nothing reliable -- like he's gone crazy and shaved his head."

"Well, the rumors are not entirely wrong. He is nearly bald and has this hideous goatee. Oh! His eyes aren't emerald anymore. They are a very pale green color. But the scar is still there."

Ginny's eyes widened. "Harry Potter without bright green eyes and tousled hair? That's like McGonagall without her spectacles!" She paused. "You know, this is the first time that we've talked about them. After the Downfall, I mean. Not that we had much chance before; we only saw each other three or four times! I never wanted to bring it up then. Ron…" She stopped abruptly and looked away.

Hermione made a guess. "Your brother still refuses to talk about anything having to do with that night, with Harry, or with me?"

"To put it lightly. If any of the family even tries to bring something up he leaves. It doesn't matter where he is or what he's doing, he will flat-out leave. He puts up with questions about the ordeal from clients but he really doesn't answer them, either." Ginny sighed. "I guess I assumed the same about you."

She got it in one, there. Hermione tried to change the subject. "I'm just glad it's all over and done with." Touch wood. "And that I'm finished being questioned by the Ministry."

Ginny checked her watch. "Oh, bloody hell! I'm sorry, Hermione, but I have to go. I absolutely promised Mum that I would be at the Burrow in time to help make dinner. She's making all of us visit tonight." Ginny stood up hurriedly, then hesitated. "I'm sure Mum wouldn't mind at all if you came…"

Hermione forced a smile. "That's all right. I'd much rather not see Mister-Ron-Head-of-Sales anytime soon, but thank you for offering." She continued to talk as she showed Ginny to the door.

Ginny turned around in the hall. "Hermione, it really was nice to see you again. I don't think I ever told you…well, I'm grateful that you were so nice to me those years at Hogwarts. I regret that we lost contact with each other." Ginny looked earnestly into Hermione's eyes. "Could meet for lunch sometime next week? I'm sure I could squeeze it in somewhere between rehearsals and calming the egos of slighted actors!"

"I'd like that," Hermione truthfully said, leaning on the doorframe. "Why don't you owl me with the particulars?"

"Done!" She threw her arms around Hermione and gave her a tight hug. "Well, I'm off!" With a final smile, Ginny Disapparated.

Closing the door slowly, Hermione wandered back into her flat. She had forgotten what a genuinely nice person Ginny was. They had been friends all throughout Hogwarts, but after the Downfall, Hermione hadn't much wanted to be in contact with anyone. So, their friendship had fallen to the wayside. Maybe that could change now…

* * * *

The next day started out very well. Hermione was awakened by the tapping of an owl at her window with a letter. It turned out to be an invitation from the firm Toil and Trouble, who made potions. They wanted her to come in for an interview!

The interview itself went quite well. Hermione couldn't stop grinning as she Apparated back to her flat. With on continuous motion she flung her resume portfolio to the floor, kicked off her shoes, and flicked her wand at her little radio. The Wizard Wireless Network came on…

"…This has been the latest is a sudden rash of murders. Ministry Spokeswizards won't confirm or deny whether any of the murders are related, nor will they say whether they have any suspects…"

"Oh no!" Even as she groaned, a glowing orb appeared before her, the stern face of Ms. Silvers within.

"Ms. Granger, we have immediate need of you at the Ministry. I suggest you pack a small suitcase. You might be here for awhile."