Then, in a sweep of his trademark black robes, he was gone, as suddenly as he had arrived. She felt a certain feeling of loss at his departure. Looking around her at the destruction, she sighed, stood up, and began to piece her life together once more.

He let out a breath of relief as he collapsed into his chair. Massaging his temples, he looked around the room. He sighed; his restless young wife had redecorated their rooms once again. Reaching to pour himself a glass of Firewhiskey, he remembered that he still had essays to grade. Pushing aside his glass after a much-needed gulp of the miracle liquid, he opened a drawer of his desk, only to find the essays stacked, graded and corrected in a handwriting other than his own. He was thankful for the fact that Albus had given him a studious and meticulous assistant: he wouldn't need to look through them to know that they would be marked as strict as he himself marked essays. He closed the drawer and started slightly when he felt small, warm hands touch his shoulders and begin to gently massage them.

'Rough day?' came the voice attached to the hands.

He groaned. 'You have no idea.'

'Albus send you on another one of his damage control errands?'

'Yes.'

'You didn't get hurt did you?' the massage stopped, she stepped out from behind him to look him in the eyes.

'No.' he watched her sigh with relief.

'Good.' she leant over and put her arms around him. He pulled her onto his lap and gathered her in his arms. He still had trouble believing that someone cared so much about his welfare. Especially someone who had so much to give, and could have any man she wanted. Perhaps it was his self-doubt, but everyday was a constant reminder to him of how lucky he was to have her, and how amazed he was that she loved him as fiercely as he loved her.

'I dont know what I'd do if anything happened to you.' she held him tighter.

'You would be strong, like you always are. You'd deal with whatever you had to, and you'd get on with your life.'

'You say that like it would be so easy. I cant live without you. I love you.' she leaned over and kissed him.

'I love you too, Esmerelda.'
Life as an Auror was hard. Hermione and Ron, who now shared a flat - and an occupation - had learnt that. With Voldemort laying low, Death Eater activity was scarce, yet there were still many bands of evil-doers and dark wizards to keep them occupied. She stepped over a pile of broken glass. I cant believe Albus would think that I needed help. I am an Auror after all. I can handle myself. Why on earth would I need help from Snape?

'Holy shit, Hermione, what happened?' said Ron, emerging from the doorway, returning home from his visit to the Burrow.

'Blood League thugs.' she said simply, picking up a broken photoframe, containing a picture of her and Ron outside Hogwarts: the picture taken the day they graduated.

'Oh, gods, are you alright? They didn't hurt you did they?' he approached her, and reached out for her hands. He held her at arms length, inspecting her for bruises or wounds, and when there appeared to be none, pulled her into a bone-jarring hug. 'I wouldn't be able to stand it if anything happened to you. If anyone hurt you, I would put them through the most horrible pain imaginable.'

She smiled. 'It's comforting to know how you feel Ron.' He leaned over to her and pressed his lips to hers. She let him be on control, parting her lips slightly as he slipped his tongue into her mouth, pressing against her own. She moaned as he assaulted her mouth with his, his hands trailing over her back. They parted for air, and she saw a familiar flame in his gaze. She laughed as he led her into their bedroom, being careful to step over the broken glass. Good old Ron.