Warning: Use of language in this chapter.

Hermione's First Day

Hermione had never been the kind of girl to go to sleepovers, to frequent others' houses as if they were her own. Over the past eight years, she'd never gone to bed and not known there was another living human not far away, so it felt odd to wake up in a new place and not hear anything but the sound of her own breathing and the faint hum of early morning London traffic. Turning off her alarm, Hermione greeted the day as she hunted for her pair of warmest slippers to combat the chill of the floor and began the process of putting on the kettle and procuring breakfast.

She stopped short at the sight of a note on the kitchen counter, written in Draco's cursive. He'd stayed the night, and yes, they had shared the bed, but it had been completely platonic -just with some pajama-clad cuddling and a goodnight kiss. Fingers unfolding the note, she read it over as she put the kettle on.

Hermione-

I'm sorry I had to leave without properly waking you up

(Merlin, he'd even drawn a smiley face. He sure had some nerve)

but unfortunately St Mungos is not as forgiving as Flourish and Blotts with their timing. Since you're such a frazzled scatterbrain -I say this with love, alright? Please don't hex me- I took the liberty of making breakfast for you, which I fixed up with a Heating Charm which I have now mastered -arent you proud?

I know you'll do amazingly, and I can't wait to hear all about it at dinner tonight. Yes, we're having dinner. No, I won't say anything more, you'll just have to wait, okay? Don't tire yourself out.

All my love, your boyfriend -I'm never going to get tired of writing that-

Draco. XXX

Fuck, she was so in love with him. She was going to keep this forever, and ever, ever. Just like she planned on keeping him forever and ever and ever. But first, work. Well, food then work, more accurately.

Crunching on a piece of toast, careful not to spill any jam, Hermione once again surveyed her chosen outfit for her first day at Flourish and Blotts with a critical eye. She wanted to look professional, yet be comfortable and approachable at the same time. The puffed-sleeve white blouse was practical and neutral, the seed beads embroidered across the top adding a decidedly understated feminine touch. Paired with a black skirt, tights and sensible ankle boots, Hermione was ready to face her first day in the world of work.

It smelt like home. That was the very first thing that struck Hermione as she walked into Flourish and Blotts half an hour early, having wanted to acclimate herself properly. Parchment and leather and ink and dust and intense literary passion seemed to float about in the very air, coating her tongue with an almost honeyed texture. For a minute, she allowed herself to peruse, to wander, although she'd had the layout of the shop memorized since she was eleven years old. It had been almost unbearable to see it so empty and desolate during the War, coming to Diagon Alley the summer of her sixth year and seeing the shelves almost bare, and not because they'd just had a best-seller. Seeing it now, though, bookcases overflowing just as they should be, it gave her hope as few things had. And she was grateful to have the chance to be a part of it all, of making a difference and helping set things right.

She found the office easily enough, for the big gold sign proclaiming, 'Office' was a bit of a giveaway. The interior was gorgeous, if a bit messy, with books and loose paper littering every available surface, almost entirely obscuring the woman slumped at the large oak desk, who jolted upright at Hermione's brisk knock.

"Jiminy Crickets, I'm sorry! I didn't think you'd be this early," the woman admitted with a charming Irish accent, dusting off her bottle-green robes and making her way across the room to shake the witch's hand. "I'm Leticia. Leticia Deveraux, but you can call me Letty, or Lettuce if you're feeling particularly hungry. You must be the new assistant for that Hogwarts project, right?"

"I am," Hermione beamed, delightfully surprised not to be recognized on the spot. "It's a pleasure to be here. This was one of my favourite places in the world when I was young, and it still remains so."

"I'm glad to here it, Miss." Straightening out her raven hair -dip-dyed rainbow at the ends- she waved to the large space around them. "I see you've already found the office, kudos to you. Would you like to see everywhere else, too?"

"Absolutely. How did you come to own the place, if you don't mind my asking?" Hermione inquired delicately as the ascended a staircase set into the back of the shop floor.

"I don't mind at all. As I'm sure you've already realized given my hair and the fact that I'm wearing a Superman T-shirt under here, I'm not unfamiliar with the Muggle world. Born and raised without a clue about anything magic related, outside of books of course," she added with a smile. "But as it turns out, I have family who are wizards. How cool is that? Anywho, they died during the War and left me all this money. Naturally, I didn't have a Scooby what to do with it -ha, do, like Doo- and then I saw that this place was coming up for sale. There was no other interested party, so I got it for a steal. Mind your head," Lettie advised as they ducked under a particularly low ceiling.

"I've always loved reading, like you, and as soon as I stepped in here, I felt like I belonged, like this was meant to happen. I confess, I've looked through a lot of the books and can only do a little bit of magic, but like I said, that's not why I bought the place. Ta-da!"

Lettie waved her hands, encompassing the view below. And what a sight it was. You could see the entire shop up here, like standing at the prow of a ship and gazing at an endless expanse of ocean, only this one didn't make you seasick, and you didn't have to worry about birds or turbulent tides. It was magic.

"It's spectacular, isn't it? the woman gushed proudly. "I can't imagine a better sight than those shelves crawling with kids excited to read. And I'm sure it will be, with your help."

Hermione turned to her, unrepentant in her excitement. "Where do we start?"

The day whizzed by unnaturally fast, and soon the hands of the clock were inching towards three. With a slightly heavy and reluctant heart, Hermione bid goodbye to Lottie and the streets of Diagon Alley as she made her way into Muggle London, headed for a particular red phone box, since she wasn't technically an employee for another eighteen minutes. She passed St Mungo's on her way, and hoped Draco was getting on alright.

Stepping into the phone box, Hermione went through the motions as she waited for the floor to descend and take her to the entrance, which was an altogether long process -there really just be a better, more efficient way- but who was she to complain. That was the way it had always been. Yet...they'd lived through a war. They'd fought a monster of unimaginable cruelty who had only existed in the first place because things had not moved forward.

Maybe she should bring it up with Kingsley.

The man himself was the first to greet her, waiting right in the foyer, under the glass dome she and her friends had smashed through while riding a dragon.

"It still amazes me, the fact that you got that dragon to let you ride it. It must have been quite the ordeal."

"It was," Hermione confessed as she strode towards him and offered her hand in greeting. "Especially since I'm utterly terrified of heights."

"I know. Arthur told me all about the summers he had to sit through with his boys trying to coax you onto a broom." He clasped her hand warmly, eyes twinkling. "But I know you're a woman who would never let fear dictate her life. It's one of the reasons I think you'll be such a good fit here. Please, let me show you around."

Most of it was the same, of course, etched into her memory from not only last year, but her fifth year, of the fight with the Death Eaters over the Prophecy, of having to walk these same hallways after Sirius died, how broken and hollow Harry had looked, like he'd never be happy again. It was all a little much, but she was sure she'd get used to it in time.

Kingsley showed her to a small office, complete with a window, desk, filing cabinet and neutral wall art. "I thought you might appreciate your own space away from the hubbub, it's not always easy to deal with, let me tell you. My office is right up the stairs, break room is down the hall, and there's a shute hidden under your painting for you to send your paperwork in once you've finished."

Hermione nodded. "Thank you."

Pulling an ornate gold pocket watch from the depths of his robes, Kingsley tutted at the time. "Merlin, I better be going. Being Minister for Magic really does eat up ones time, but don't hesitate to Owl if you have any questions, Hermione. I'll see you later."

With that said, he rushed off in a swish of flowing purple.

Flopping into her desk chair, Hermione groaned at the ceiling, painted a pale cream. "Questions about what, Kingsley? You didn't even tell me what my job is!"

Paperwork, that was what her job was. Filling out paperwork. There was so many forms, so many claims. Budget increases and reparations and compensation and taxes and treaties and negotiations. Like at Flourish and Blotts, she'd been hired as an assistant. The assistant to the Minister of Magic, admittedly, but assistant nonetheless. Endless owls through in with even more notices and letters, and by half seven she couldn't wait to leave.

The sight of her apartment was incredibly welcome, the view of Draco's back as he lent over the stove and put the finishing touches on dinner complete heaven. And not just because he had a nice back, or because food was involved. She launched herself at that gorgeous back, wrapping her arms around him from behind and nuzzling his neck. "Hi."

"Hello to you, too, Granger. While I appreciate such an affectionate welcome, I don't want to burn your lovely hair, so you may want to take a step back."

She did, albeit reluctantly, watching as he took the dish off the stove and set it to cool down, lighting the candles at the table with a click of his fingers.

"I see you're pulling out all the stops tonight," Hermione mused as she shrugged out of her coat and hung it by the door, kicking off her boots and unpinning her hair as well.

Draco smiled adoringly. "My girlfriend deserves nothing less than five star treatment. Shall we?"

Dinner was -no surprise there- amazing. Draco was an exceptional cook, and he really had spoiled her. Sipping at her glass of wine, Hermione asked the dreaded question of most adults, "How was your day?"

Setting down his fork, her boyfriend picked up his own glass as he began, "Well, it started off terribly..."

Author's Notes: Hello, it's me. I have a chapter for you. Albeit short and somewhat measly in content, but a chapter nonetheless, which I dedicate in the memory of Robbie Coltrane, our incredible Rubeus Hagrid. More chapters forthcoming.

I've missed you all. It feels good to be home.

All my love, Temperance Cain.