A/N: Many of you wanted me to continue it, so here you go. Yes, I have vacation so I have had more time to write than usual. The chapters a bit short, but oh well. Also, I have honestly not read many fan fictions or made anyone self that happened post-Hogwarts, so I am not sure if this is good at all. I have changed a few details and so, but er, yeah I hope you like it. Please review.. And sorry to everyone who loves Ron, I do too, but I really need him to be a complete arse in this story-...

happy new year!

Chapter twenty-three

On Friday June 8th 2007, Hermione Jean Granger walked the familiar corridors from her office at the Department of Magical Law and Enforcement in the Ministry of Magic to the streets of London city. She had just finished yet another, hopefully the last, report on why pure-bloods and muggleborns were not so different. With the support of the minister himself, Kingsley Shacklebolt, she was working hard on eradicating the old laws biased in favour of purebloods. She was actually proud of what she had achieved in her short 28 year old life.

"Good evening, ms. Granger," a fellow worker told Hermione. She nodded and smiled in response. But as soon as her feet left the Ministry, the smile faded. She got a huge clump in her stomach, just by the thought of having to go home. She knew that it was supposed to be opposite; that she would hate work and love coming home. But it was not like that. She loved her work very dearly, and therefore always arrived as early as possible, and stayed until it was far past midnight every day. Some of her colleagues even made jokes about her moving in to the Ministry. Hermione did not find them funny, though. Those who knew her, knew that she always had loved working, and preferred to do everything perfectly and flawless. But that was not the only reason. When she was at home she felt rather depressed. Therefore she tried to spend as short time as possible in her house.

Hermione found her usual spot – behind some street dustbins – and Disapparated home.

She arrived where she left in the morning; a few steps away from the front door. She lived in a modern neighbourhood just outside London city. None of the houses were alike, they all had their own unique look. That was what Hermione had fallen for back when she had been house-hunting two years ago. After she had finished her 7th year in Hogwarts in 1999, she had moved into a tiny apartment just outside the Ministry, where she had been promised a job. The apartment had not been much bigger than the Gryffindor common-room, but it had been hers completely. She had spent the next years working her arse off. And for all that time she had not been seeing anyone besides her colleagues; not Harry, not Ginny, not even Ron. Then one day Ron had showed up at her door, out of nowhere. It turned out he had been tracking her down for months. She had been happy to see him, indeed. And they had begun a normal relationship. After not more than a year together, in 2005, Ron popped the question. It had taken Hermione by surprise, but after a while of thinking, she had come to the conclusion that they could be engaged for years before they actually got married, so she had said yes. But Ron had other plans, and they had therefore already married and moved in late 2006. Of course it had been a big arse wedding with church, white gowns, champagne and fireworks. Hermione remembered feeling happy, but not.. at home. Like she was at somebody else wedding, not her own. But she had forgotten it again; agreeing with herself that it probably was a common feeling among brides. The entire Weasly family, Harry, Luna, Neville and all had of course attended the wedding. Everything had turned out as it should. The only odd thing about the day, was when Luna had dragged Hermione asides during the party, and asked her if she was sure to leave her life behind. She meant that her adventure was over, or something. Honestly Hermione had never seen Luna as the type who did not believe in love. But maybe she was afraid to lose people; after all she only had her father, since her mum's young death. Hermione could understand her, even though she had never truly lost someone. Well, except her friendship with Harry, but the truth was Harry had changed a lot since he had come out of the closet in their 6th year. Maybe he had just turned into who he truly was, but then that was not a very nice person. He talked trash about a lot of people – even Ron once in a while – and acted all diva about everything. After the war he had disappeared for a while. The last time she had seen him was at the wedding, and then he had been almost an alcoholic. Things had not turned out the way they should have for him. He had broken up with Ginny at Professor Dumbledore's funereal (God bless his soul). She had begged him to take her back for a few months, until she realised that she was better off without him. Now she was a successful player at the famous Quidditch team Holyhead Harpies, and engaged to none other than Viktor Krum. They had met at her older brother Bill's wedding in the beginning of the war, and sparks had flown. They made a quite great couple, Hermione thought, though she found it a tiny bit of awkward at family dinners because of her previous fling with Viktor during 5th year. He did not seem to mind, though. It was almost like he did not even remember her from then. Not that Hermione's appearance had changed much over the years. Except some small, almost invisible, wrinkles here and there she looked absolutely the same. And so did Ron. Well, he had grown a little, ginger moustache, but it only suited him. His skin had gotten one nuance lighter because he never went outside. He worked full-time with his brother George in Weasly's Wizard Wheezes, placed on Diagon Alley. The shop was once owned by both George and Fred, but sadly Fred had lost his life in the war years ago (God bless his soul.) They sold very well, and Ron got a nice pay.

Hermione took a glare, like she always did, at their house. It was painted the lightest nuance of white; windows made of brown wood; French doors; two floors; two bedrooms (one of them empty, as they shared bed); red tiled roof, and a lovely front yard with flowers. In many ways it reminded of Hermione's childhood home. That was also probably why she had fallen in love with exactly that particular house. But she still was not as comfortable in it as in her old house. Her parents still lived there, they had never made Australia reality, and Hermione appreciated that. She loved having them near-by. Not that she had much time left over to see them either. One more thing she had given up in her fight to change the magical world into the better.

Hermione took the final steps up to the front door, and entered. It was unlocked as always, because Ron didn't believe anyone would dare to steal from them. Truth to be told, they did not own anything worth stealing.

The small hall Hermione stepped into was messy as always, just like the rest of the house.

"Hey, honey!" Ron yelled from the living room where he was reading the Daily Prophet. Hermione had hoped he was asleep.

"Hello," she replied, and walked up to him after taking off her white cotton coat.

He leaned over and planted a kiss on her lips. Hermione once again wondered if he too felt, that the spark between them was gone. She always heard stories of people who fell in love with their partners over and over again every time they kissed, but she honestly did not have that feeling with Ron. It had become more of a have-to-do than a want-to-do.

"How was work?" Ron asked with a tone that made it clear he did not really care about her answer. He was deep into the newspaper.

"As always." Hermione remembered saying those exact words yesterday. It was the same dialogue, almost like a manuscript.

"Good." Ron closed the paper, and went into the kitchen, which was only a few inches away from the living room – very practical in many ways. "I have made you tea!"

"Thank you," she replied in a fragile voice. He always made tea for her. Always blueberry taste, even though he knew she preferred cinnamon.

She picked up the Daily Prophet, and begun skimming it through. It was the same articles as always, written by the same lazy, non-talented journalists, whom still were more than well paid. It could have been the paper from yesterday, it was that alike it. She went to the front page to check the date -it was the correct one. The front cover was a moving picture of Professor McGonagall, with the title "How long will she last?". Hermione read the first few lines of the short article, but decided that it was all rubbish. The journalist, someone who obviously had not followed along in classes you could tell by terrible selling, was giving arguments to why McGonagall should let the title as Headmistress walk along to a new, younger person, considered that she was growing old.

Hermione wrinkled her nose, and giggled of the silliness. Did nobody get that Dumbledore had turned 115, and still had worked fine as Headmaster? It was probably only because they had a problem with women in powerful positions.

"Tea!" Ron announced, and approached Hermione, carrying two porcelain cups.

"Mmm, blueberry," Hermione said, trying to sound enthusiastic.

"How could you guess?" Ron asked, suspiciously. He, on the other hand, could not remember that he always served that kind of tea.

"Wild guess," she lied.

"Finding anything interesting?" he asked, referring to the newspaper.

"It's not exactly breaking news, but it's fine," Hermione lied once again. She did not intend to, but for some reason she constantly lied around Ron. She never told him how she really felt or what she really meant. She pretended that every thing was perfect.

Hermione continued reading through the pages uninterested, until she reached the page for personal information. The page was usually filled up with pictures of happy couples on their wedding day, someone turning 100 years, or the winner of a small wizard chess tournament. But this time it was different. Only one story was written on the page. An extraordinary interesting one, though. The headline was simply "Former Death Eater engaged Greengrass"in a big fat type. Underneath was a picture that Hermione at first eye-cast believed to not be true. It pictured Draco Malfoy smiling next to a woman, whom Hermione had not really noticed before. She had long, brown hair, and looked quite fine and classy. The couple were holding hands and smiling at each other. Hermione had to look one more time to make sure, that her eyes were not playing a trick on her. To be absolutely certain, she read the article.

Draco Lucius Malfoy, 27 could yesterday confirm that he is marrying his long term girlfriend Astoria Greengrass, 25. The couple met through Astoria's older sister Daphne Greengrass, who went to Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry with Draco, both of them in Slytherin. She meant that the two of them would make a perfect couple, and therefore set them up a few years ago.

"I was absolutely certain that it would work out. They are made for each other. I was a good friend of Draco's in Hogwarts, and knew him well, so I was aware that he would treat my sister well, and that they had some common interests. For example they both enjoy reading good books

and Disapparating to places they don't know well," Daphne has told us.

According to our sources the wedding will find place in December, in the Malfoy Manor, which Draco's mum, Narcissa Malfoy, has lived in by herself since her husband and Draco's father, Lucius Malfoy, got life time in Azkaban, and lost his life earlier this year. The sorrow though already seems to be gone in the Malfoy family, whom are now ready to celebrate love.

Hermione slowly put the paper down, and took a sip of her tea to stay calm.

"Malfoy is getting married?" she asked. It was not really meant as a question, more a confirmation.

"Yes, I know, bloody unbelievable, right? It is probably a set up. There is no way a woman can actually be sexually attracted to Malfoy."

Hermione frowned. She read the article one more time. It was full of so many lies; Daphne and Draco had never been good friends, they had shagged. And Draco did in no way enjoy neither books or getting lost. At least then that was a new hobby he had gotten himself. It was so not like him. It was as if he was a clone of the actual Draco, someone who just looked a lot like him.

"Lucius really died?" Hermione asked Ron. She knew that he was in Azkaban, but she had never heard that he actually had died from it.

"Apparently. That was for the best; nobody really liked him anyway."