Summary: Their friends have moved on to forget the horrors of war. Hermione and Seamus work through their NEWTs and Auror training together, dealing with the isolation and consequences of battle-won fame.

Beta-read thanks to Tanguera and Melody Lepetit! Reviews are very much appreciated!

Review replies are found at the end.


Hermione stared at her planner… 'Well, bollocks.' Without worrying about Ron or Harry, or the next Voldemort related crisis, she either repeated her usual study schedule multiple times or had huge gaps of free time. Normally, this wasn't an issue as she had classes, or friends. But while Harry and Ron were great at including her at Hogwarts, they were rubbish at corresponding by owl. Neither Harry or Ron realized she had moved out of Grimmauld Place until Hermione wrote them her new mail address. Harry's life goals had shifted from staying alive, to hiding from paparazzi and trying to plan a wedding next year with Ginny. Ron was frantically trying to keep up with the training schedule as a reserve keeper for the Chudley Cannons, while doing his utmost to get off the bench. Hermione's lips twisted wryly at that; she wasn't surprised that he was having difficulty with time-management, after years of Ron using the crutch of having the same classes as Harry. 'Well, shite. I will have to actually take Seamus up on his offer.'

The Irishman was gripping his hair with one hand and running fingers along lines his textbook with the other, muttering darkly. Hermione slid into the pub's booth and tipped the book upwards to scan the title, Advanced Potion-Making. Seamus grinned at her and flicked his fingers in a quick wave at the waitress slowly nodding off at the bar.

"Hermione! Merlin, I just can't get a handle on this stuff." Hermione ordered a butterbeer, and shut the book, nearly trapping Seamus' fingers between the pages. "Hey! No need for that. I've been following your crazy schedule and as soon as Potions comes up I get all boss-eyed." He studied his fingers for any papercuts and slanted his gaze at his study partner, as she drummed her fingers on the chipped laminate.

"I think that we should take a different approach." Hermione slowly drawled out as if not yet finished the thought. "We'll start brewing all the potions that they could test." Seamus' brows scrunched up in disbelief.

"What? All of them?" Hermione sipped at the delivered butterbeer and squinted.

"Look Seamus, it's only the two of us these days, I'm not going to let you fail your Potions NEWT without exhausting all options."

He cleared his throat. "Right. Well, you know that it's easier for them to move on by forgetting. And we're the only ones we know are taking the NEWTs, maybe there'll be more familiar faces when we take the exams. Any idea on what you're doing afterwards?" Hermione tapped her fingers. "You already know I'll be trying out at the Auror academy." She nodded, thinking about her set future as an Obliviator. What would her new study partner think of her, if he knew she was a criminal? Her attention was caught by a flicker in her peripheral vision. Two overweight Aurors, off-duty with robes askew, were listening closely to the Quidditch team draft picks on the Wizarding Wireless. Seamus followed the line of her gaze and frowned. "And possibly upping my cardio. Fancy jogging with me? Might be nice to run without Death Eaters behind you."

Hermione blinked. She hadn't dwelled on the physical aspect of being an Obliviator, though Christoph had mentioned her having to go through the Auror academy training.

The Aurors seemed disgruntled hearing Marcus Flint's name by exclaiming, "Blighter bet'er not take the piss, 'e's a right ponce all prettied up af'er joinin' tha' Muggle rugby."

"Eh, but tosser's pulling more tho'."

She tapped Seamus' potions text, "We run, then we brew. Deal?"


Hermione knew she was a perfectionist, enough that she warned Seamus she would take all the allotted time for their last exam in Potions, and would meet him at the cafe afterwards. The room was tiny with only a dozen people who had elected to test for NEWTs, the majority were mature students or distant acquaintances from Hogwarts. Hermione vaguely recalled Seamus waltzing out of the room with a spring in his step half and hour earlier, she had technically finished forty-five minutes early, but had wanted to revise her answers.

The cafe was situated a few shops down from the Ministry. Hermione turned the corner and almost stumbled. Christoph was shaking hands with Seamus as they stood above two empty teacups and saucers. Her 'supervisor' half-turned and noticed Hermione a few yards away, and waved her over with a languid sweep of his wrist.

"My dear, I have met your study partner at last. Mr. Finnigan has agreed to joining you as Obliviators once you two have finished at the academy." Seamus almost vibrated in place with excitement.

"Hermione, why didn't you tell me you had early conditional placement?" Hermione felt her cheeks heat up and she opened her mouth to stammer out an excuse, but Christoph interrupted.

"Mr. Finnigan, that is entirely my doing. My preference is that her placement, and now yours, not be announced until you have completed basic Auror training. I have seen too many prospective candidates fall below my expectations, though I very much doubt will happen in your case. You understand my caution, yes?" Seamus nodded eagerly. "Well, I have several appointments to keep. I look forward to seeing your NEWT and Academy marks." Hermione was left with Seamus with no more than a head tilt and toothless smiles. She couldn't help smiling back at the grin that threatened to split her friend's face. At least, she wouldn't be alone.


Dear Mum and Dad,

Obliviator Hans calls all of Tybalt's mice Romeo. Thought you would get a kick out of that.

Training is going well, there's quite a lot to learn for ethics and procedure. There's also a bit of competitive spirit amongst my class, which just drives us to do our best.

...

"Come off it. Haven't you two wasted enough of our time now?" Seamus and Hermione kept stretching, trying to ignore the hovering idiot that had been badgering them since day one. Travis Goren was an alright bloke, to those he didn't view as obstacles, then he was a right asshole. "Being an Auror isn't just about books. We don't need you freezing up in the field, or breaking them chicken legs, and putting the rest of us at risk." Travis and his usual bully-boys - all from families who had gone into hiding or had fled the country upon Voldemort's return - surrounded the two, confident with the absence of their instructor and other classmates at the end of their first practical combat session.

Seamus and Hermione could only laugh after each day of training; trainees touched by the war treated them with a faint air of deference from fear or admiration, while others tried to set up aggro pissing matches in response to what they felt was unearned respect. Goren was from a long line of MLE witches and wizards, he was already in the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol ingratiating himself with all the right MLE seniors, expecting his several months of field experience to carry him through Auror Academy with ease. On the first day, his toadying attempts had been dashed when the instructor recognized Hermione and Seamus from the Prophet. They had both winced and deflected reflexively, both recalling the exhaustion and dirt smearing their faces at the time of the candid photograph, but the damage had been done. Goren's lanced pride had turned him sullen and spiteful towards them.

"Look Goren, lay off yeah? If m'chicken legs don't make the cut, then that's on Proudfoot to say." Seamus was careful to not make eye contact with their loud-mouthed classmate, quickly measuring the distance to the exit and discreetly giving Hermione their 'trouble' signal. Hermione switched legs and noted the only other female candidate slipping out the door with a worried expression. Veruca Grimsby was a tall sturdy woman who grimaced with Hermione in solidarity over the blatant sexism. As she tried to slide her palm further past her toes, Hermione hoped Veruca was retrieving one of their instructors. It had been almost a month of Goren frothing at the mouth, and the adrenaline from the session was channeling his hate into confrontation.

The first punch aimed at the side of Seamus' head glanced off as he tucked and rolled. A kick connected with his ribs when Hermione's yelp momentarily distracted him. Seamus tried to quickly disarm his opponent and dodge hexes, throwing up a shield charm as he sidestepped closer to Hermione. Her wand lay splintered on the ground and she emitted a constant stream of silent wandless spells, struggling to ignore her battle instincts and disarm without serious injury. Hermione felt like her nose was broken and her bruise salve stock would need to be replenished after today. Although she didn't particularly mourn Bellatrix's wand, she was annoyed with the additional task of purchasing a new wand. Seamus' hip hit hers before his shield expanded to include her.

"Do you remember that wall curse? Keep up the shield." Hermione murmured. Seamus grinned and fumbled before he interlaced his fingers with hers. Behind his shoulder, Arabic tumbled from her lips before the change in pressure made his ears pop. Their attackers flew back and hung in various positions, glued to the far wall. The two Gryffindors sighed before relaxing and tending to their injuries. Veruca and Proudfoot burst through the door and took in the scene of Goren and four other men struggling to detach from a wall, their feet kicking several feet from the floor.

"What is the meaning of this?" Proudfoot watched as Seamus traced his wand tip along Hermione's bridge then flicking, producing a sickening snick as her cartilage straightened. Veruca answered as Hermione made Seamus hold up the hem of his shirt to examine his reddened side.

"Sir, I left to find you when Goren started harassing them verbally."

Proudfoot watched as Seamus handed over his wand for Hermione to run a diagnostic on his ribs, his face darkened when it indicated a cracked rib.

"Granger, Finnigan, explain."

Hermione returned Seamus' wand back to him. "Sir, I cursed the wall with an augmented flypaper spell. We were defending ourselves." Her knees locked to hold up under Hermione's fear, if they voided the agreement with Hans for excessive force she would be in Azkaban before tomorrow. Proudfoot ran diagnostic spells over the five men against the wall. The auror nodded.

"Grimsby, escort Granger and Finnigan to the medi-witch. I will see you three bright and early tomorrow." His tone brooked no discussion, and Hermione almost flew out into the hall, relief quickening her steps. Veruca followed them in silence for a few minutes, then she asked,"Why aren't you angry?"

Seamus and Hermione glanced at each other before laughing. Seamus shrugged, "What we've been through? They're flies. Thanks for getting Proudfoot."

Veruca hands curled into fists.

"If it were me, I'd be furious. Are you pressing charges?" Seamus was already shaking his head. Hermione bit her lip before carefully answering, "You notice how everyone treats us? There's already unconscious and conscious bias and favoritism. We would be aggravating the situation, and causing potential future difficulties."

Seamus snorted. "Hermione's saying: people like us now, we whinge, become Aurors, and they might start thinking we didn't earn it proper-like." Veruca blanched. He nodded at her horrified expression. "Yeah. An' we aren't narks."


Seamus scanned their surroundings before slicing a bit of singed hair from one of Hermione's curls, then vanishing it. "Who was it this time?"

Hermione didn't even look up from her scribbling.

"Monteith. Had to get his scrotum reattached." Seamus recoiled.

"Oi! That's right harsh." Hermione nodded and took a sip from her ale. "So that's all of them you've duelled now. Think they've learned better?"

"They've learned they're shite at hand to hand. It's like their brains turn off as soon as their wands comes out."

Seamus snickered, "That's about right for all men."

Hermione chuckled, "You know what I mean, Seamus. They'd be rubbish against a Muggle with a left hook faster than their wand-work. Any DA member would have them down in a blink."

Seamus raised his eyebrows. "Aye, but they don't know that. We've sandbagged the whole time."

They sat in a booth with a sticky table at a Muggle pub, filling out index cards on law enforcement acts and regulations to memorize. The rugby game on the television caused a cheer or cursing to infrequently interrupt the low murmur.

"Isn't that Marcus Flint?" Seamus set down his pen and Hermione looked up to see the older Slytherin in a navy uniform on the screen, ball in his hands. "Didn't recognize him at first without the unibrow. He's right fit now." Hermione grinned, she hoped Seamus didn't think he was fooling anyone, the flex of those strong thighs was rather distracting.

"Speaking of fit. You asked out that clerk yet? Blake, wasn't it?" Seamus flushed bright red. Hermione smirked. "Been attached at the hip to you for the past year. I'm not that dense."

The Irishman mumbled out, "He's too much of a giggler. 'Sides, with exams so close, shouldn't get too distracted and cock it all up."

Hermione nudged his pen towards him and Seamus groaned before picking up and unwrapping another stack of bright cardstock.


Seamus leaned against the cool window pane, trying to keep awake while waiting for Hermione. He had left the Auror exams early just like during their NEWTs and knew she was just revising for the umpteenth time. A shadow fell over him and he turned to see the justifiably worried face of Monteith.

"Look, we're going to run into each other once in a while, working in the same department. H-How do…" Seamus had to give the sputtering man credit, once his scrotum was restored, he had the balls to own up and move forward.

"Word of advice, yeah?" The man in front of him nodded frantically. "'Mione doesn't give a rat's arse you're an idiot, 'til your shite spills over, she'll just let you roll out 'nough rope to hang with. Just leave it alone, or she'll light you on fire while your feet are still kickin'." Seamus turned back to lean his forehead against the window, signalling the conversation over. He listened to Monteith's uneven steps fade away and rolled his eyes. Honestly, the pissants always forgot she was bloody logistics for Potter.


Review Reply: In no particular order...

stephalopolisO9: Thanks! I always thought making your parents a blank slate would invite new colours that you never found before, hence the swearing! Genteel Mr. Granger would never swear before obliviation. As a politician, Kingsley has to be cautious on who he associates himself with, especially now that he's trying to clean up the ministry.

PersephoneParkinson: Thank you, I promise that Blaise is in the next chapter!

tenderheartinablender, smithback, PaigeAdams5972, HAB63, Aphrodite-Venus-u.k, valarm0ghul1s: Thank you, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and will keep reading!

dracosgirl007: Thank you for pointing that out! It never occurred to me to differentiate between the ground being outside and floor being inside. Also, the letters are fragments that segue into the plot, I hope you aren't discouraged with this styling choice.

Lady Evora: Thank you! The letter in the last chapter was one of the first concepts I had for this plot, so I'm glad you enjoyed it!