2001

Ministry of Magic

Hermione picked up a stack of papers from her desk at the Ministry division of Care of Magical Creatures, tucking them neatly in her briefcase, trying to control the slight tremor of her hand. She was already double-dosing calming draught, even she knew she couldn't risk anymore.

The office was almost empty, even though it was only four in the afternoon, most people having left early on Friday. She strode towards the lift when she heard a commotion on the lower floor of the open atrium of the ministry.

Hermione's steps slowed as her curiosity got the best of her at the yelling, and she peeked over the side down to the main floor two stories below. A wizard in ragged clothes was on the floor in the middle of a widely spread-out crowd, screaming obscenities.

The crowd parted and a dark-haired Auror strode forward, his cloak flaring around him. His shoulders were confidently thrown back and he held his wand at his side. He knelt next to the screaming wizard and abruptly the wizard on the floor shut up. The Auror stood waving his wand at the wizard and his body lifted abruptly into the air while he still struggled.

Her briefcase dropped to the floor with barely any sound, but it was like he heard it. Harry's head lifted, and he stared right at her. She couldn't breathe, pinned by his gaze, so calm and self-assured. When had that happened? How?

War had shaped Harry, but Auror training had given him a sharp edge that he had never had before. She missed him so much that sometimes it ached. This wasn't to say they didn't see each other, of course, they did, but that distance between them since the Horcux hunt remained, especially with her and Ron constantly scrambling to keep it together and not create a scandal by revealing their struggles.

Hermione stepped away from Harry's view and awkwardly reached for her briefcase. She just needed to get home. Maybe she would take another draught of peace. She stepped into the elevator and there was already a witch on it, an unspeakable Hermione recognized.

"Hi, Vivian."

The tall, pretty witch gave her a slow smile. "Fridays are so wonderful, aren't they?"

Hermione nodded, tightening her hand on her briefcase. She wanted to finish reviewing this legislation before Monday.

"You and Ron should join me and Harry this weekend. He was talking about doing some kind of pickup game at the park."

"Oh definitely, I'll talk to Ron to see if we don't have plans."

Vivian's red lips twisted, and she tossed her long wavy hair behind her shoulder. "I don't get the three of you."

Hermione looked over at Harry's new girlfriend after Ginny. "What do you mean?"

"You guys are just the worst best friends I've ever seen with each other. Why do you even bother to pretend you're coming? You're just going to make up some excuse."

Hermione looked away from Vivian's hard gaze. "Did Harry say that?"

"Say something bad about you? Never." Vivian scoffed, looking away from her.

The lift dinged finally letting Hermione out, and she turned around to face Vivian as she stepped out. "I'll try, okay?"

Vivian didn't bother responding, leaning forward to push a button so the doors would close, probably going to Harry's floor.

Shit. Had they avoided him that much? It wasn't too much, she didn't think. Hermione tried to recall the last time they had all been together for any length of time when it wasn't an accidental meet-up. Christmas. Bloody hell.

Her shoes clacked loudly against the stone as she made her way to the floos, stepping forward to get pulled to the flat she shared with Ron. Empty fire whiskey bottles littered the living room and around the couch.

"Ron!" She yelled, dropping her briefcase and picking up the bottles. How could he have drunk this much? Harry was still at work. Why was Ron home already?

She found him in their bedroom, laying face down a half-drunk bottle on their nightstand. "Ron!"

He flinched, his back tensing but didn't move. "Can you please not yell? I just managed to feel relaxed…" He mumbled into the sheet.

Hermione breathed out slowly, trying to calm herself to deal with him, and sat by him on the bed. "What happened?"

His shoulder lifted briefly before dropping. "Nothing. Just another day at work."

"I saw Harry when I was leaving."

Ron picked up his face finally, his eyes bloodshot. "Did he say anything to you?"

"We didn't talk."

Ron crawled forward until he could lay his head in her lap. "Figures."

"Vivian told me that we're the worst best friends ever."

Ron laughed. "She's just being a cunt because she knows Harry doesn't love her."

"Ronald," Hermione said warningly.

"Merlin, Hermione." Ron groaned, pushing his face into her thigh so he was barely audible. "Don't sound like my bloody mum, it's true."

"When I see them, it always looks as if Harry cares for her very much."

Ron shook his head, disagreeing, but didn't respond.

Hermione ran her hand through his shaggy red locks. "Maybe you shouldn't drink as much Ron."

"Maybe you shouldn't use so many potions." The words were harsh, but Ron's tone wasn't. It was just as soft as hers had been.

Hermione's hand trembled a little where she laid on it on his head and Ron reached up to steady her, pressing her hand down more firmly. "We need some more supplies and I just went to the shops on Diagon. If we go again so soon, someone will say something."

"Maybe we should try a night without."

"This will be a fun Friday, then. We'll be taking turns puking in the bathroom."

"At least if we miss we can vanish it."

Ron laughed. "Whatever, I don't care. I'm tired now though, so I'm going to sleep, okay?"

Hermione glanced out the window to the sun shining brightly outside. "Yeah okay."

Hermione went and closed the curtains for Ron, dimming the room, before shutting the bedroom door so she didn't disturb him. She sat on the couch and pulled out all her papers around her, reviewing the legislative proposal for errors or improvements. She needed this bill to pass.

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Harry looked at her excitedly in the tent, the distraction making his expression more open than the had been since that night. "Do you get what this means? He's abroad and still looking for the wand, I knew it!"

"Harry–" She started cautiously.

Harry shook his head impatiently at her, a thread of anger winding into his voice as he avoided looking at Ron sitting next to her. "Come on, Hermione, why are you so determined not to admit it?"

"Harry!" What was he after? Why would he—

"Voldemort is after the Elder Wand!" Harry finished quickly looking at her face.

Oh, he hadn't been talking about—

"The name's Taboo!" Ron bellowed next to her leaping to his feet as a loud crack sounded outside the tent. "I told you, Harry, I told you we can't say it anymore — we've got to put the protection back around us—-quickly—-it's how they find—" But Ron stopped talking, his blue eyes wide and frightened.

The sneakoscope they had on the table had lit up and begun to spin and they could all hear rough excited voices coming nearer and nearer. Ron pulled the Deluminator out of his pocket and clicked, plunging them into darkness.

"Come out with your hands up!" came a rasping voice through that darkness. "We know you're in there! You've got half a dozen wands pointing at you and we don't care who we curse!"

Hermione's heart felt like it was going to burst from her chest, her skin clammy from fear. Maybe they wouldn't recognize her or Ron but Harry with a scar would instantly be recognizable as Voldmort's number one objective. She raised her wand to cast a stinging jinx to Harry's face but a large hand snapped out grabbing her wrist in a crushing grip. "What are you doing, delicious girl?"

Harry and Ron jumped up yelling, but green flashed by her eyes and they both fell to the floor in front of her, eyes vacant.

The fetid breath of Fenrir Greyback came closer, his hairy face brushing against her cheek. "Pathetic, but don't worry you'll join them soon. You'll be my little treat, I do enjoy the soft skin… of delicious girls…"

Greyback's sharp, partially transformed teeth sank into her shoulder as she started screaming, bucking, and clawing at his hold on her.

Hermione rolled away screaming, crashing into the tent table. She felt her wand roll to her hand and grasped it tightly, "Confrigo!"

She saw a dark figure dive and her curse hit something else causing it to burst into flame.

"Hermione!"

She stumbled back shaking her head her wand pointing towards where she had seen the figure dive, he slowly stood up his hands raised as if she would believe that! "Diffindo!"

"Argh!"

Hermione froze, she knew that scream. Shakily she approached. "Lumos!"

The bright light of her wand lit her flat, and she saw Ron bleeding out on the floor a large cut going from the side of his ribs to the middle of his stomach, each time he moved she could see the pale bone of his rib peeking out.

He looked at her sweating, face twisted in pain. "The dittany, Hermione."

Fuck. Fuck! She ran and flipped on the lights. "Accio dittany!"

She knelt next to him carefully pouring it on him and watching the skin knit together. "I'm so sorry, Ron. I'm so sorry."

He hugged her for a second, then twisted abruptly away stumbling and dragging blood through the flat towards the toilet. Hermione heard him gagging and throwing up a second later. She didn't move, crying over the large bloodstain on the carpet.

After long minutes Ron stumbled back out to where she knelt sitting down and casting cleaning and vanishing charms leaving behind a faintly pinkish stain on the carpet despite the magic. "I told you it would suck."

Hermione gave a gasping giggle, looking up at his pale face. "We're kind of mental aren't we?"

Ron nodded, and she scooted closer to inspect the wound. It scarred. She ran her fingertips lightly along the scar and he grabbed her hand, stopping her. "It's just another war wound, don't worry about it. Maybe tomorrow we can travel somewhere—I like the liquor store in Manchester?"

Hermione clenched her hand into a fist. "Maybe… maybe they were right. Maybe we should go for counseling."

"Ugh." Ron rolled away from her and the carpet-stained area. "That sounds difficult. And it's still a thing—what if they find out?"

"The reporters don't follow me as much—it helps that Harry is still—um—interesting to them."

Ron chuckled, still not looking at her. "Sometimes I find it mind-blowing I ever envied him that attention."

"Yeah."

Silence spread for a few minutes, and they could hear the soft snick of the clock ticking from its mantle above the fireplace. "I don't want to go to therapy," Ron said finally.

"Why were you home early?"

"Sometimes I hate that you're smart."

Hermione laughed. "Yeah, I know. So you'll go with me? We'll both go?"

Ron rolled to his feet again, squeezing her shoulder and not noticing her flinch as it reminded her of her dream, "Yeah I'll go." His voice faded as he headed into the bathroom, closing the door before the retching sound started again.

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Counseling Office

After both Hermione and Ron finished talking they said tensely in the soothingly painted light blue room with sunshine streaming through the curtains. The healer looked at them like bacteria under a slide, interesting but without emotional investment.

Their healer had straight short blonde hair and laser blue eyes. He was older than both of them, approaching his sixties and he had a craggy face that gave him a slightly rough look. He steepled his hands together before speaking. "Have either of you heard of codependency?"

Ron shrugged while Hermione was unable to avoid the impulse to answer a question, "When you're dependent upon one another?"

Ron gave her an amused glance when he heard her little exhale of relief at the nod from the therapist, she couldn't let go of trying to perform well.

"You are each enabling each other's worst impulses, Ron's drinking, and Hermione —your potion abuse. If we are to continue this therapy you will be required to undergo veritaserum questioning to make sure I have an accurate accounting of your addictions."

"Fuck that," Ron said immediately, standing. "I'm not going to be taking any bloody veritaserum–"

"Ron!" Hermione tugged him down. "Please. We need this." She reached out and laid her hand over the scar she had given him a week ago.

Ron sat down and the healer began again. "From your history and the severity of both your addictions I am recommending we start with in-house treatment. We have a discreet clinic that will be your home away from home for a few months, there will be tight regulations regarding what you can bring in—"

"Oh, but I can't I mean we both work at the ministry! We can't go somewhere else for extended treatment."

"Of course, you can. It's called apparition or portkey." The therapist said firmly reaching out to grab a clipboard. "We're going to start with a six-month treatment program in an outpatient facility."

"Six months!" They both exclaimed staring at the healer like he was batty.

"Let me get this straight just so I can be clear on the trauma you two are facing. In your first year in Hogwarts, you faced an enormous vicious three-headed dog—

"Well, Hagrid said Fluffy–" Hermione started.

"A killer life-sized chess set—"

"I thought I was going to die, but I didn't!" Ron exclaimed. "So that's good, right?"

"In second year, one of you was petrified by a basilisk and the other was stuck behind a rock slide with a teacher who attacked him—"

"Lockhart," Ron scoffed. "The whomping willow was much more frightening to me or Aragog—"

The healer stared at him with wide eyes. "Who? What?"

"Oh well they weren't really the bad guys that year—it was mostly Lockhart or the Basilisk… or even the notebook—"

The healer held up his hand for Ron to stop. "Look, you two have the worst history of sustained trauma I may have heard in all my years as a therapist except for career hit wizards, Unspeakables, or Aurors- who dealt with the trauma as ADULTS." The healer finished on a loud note. "Your decision-making capability is hindered because you both are constantly in a state of hypervigilance trying to prevent a disaster that is not coming–"

Hermione looked at Ron. "Do we really know, though, that it's not coming?"

Ron shrugged, turning back to the healer. "Really, it's probably going to happen. They're going to catch us coming out of that clinic doorway—"

Hermione picked up the story, making an annoying buzzing sound. "Some stupid little beetle with a perfectly horrid glasses pattern on its face is going to write some article that will expose us —-"

"To ridicule and my mum will try to come sleep at my house or worse! Try to get me to move back in with her—she's never touched my brother's room, you know it's like a bloody shrine—"

"IT'S NOT COMING." The healer stood up, yelling over both of them.

"Merlin." Ron and Hermione muttered, glancing at each other.

The healer shook his finger at them, like some strange incarnation of McGonagall. "You are both barely twenty years old and have years of trauma and addiction to overcome and in my professional opinion you will not be able to do this in an unsupervised—"

"I'm twenty-one." Hermione offered.

The healer stopped, rubbing a hand over his face before pulling his chair close to them and reaching to grasp their hands. "You two have done so many wonderful things for the wizarding world, you deserve to be able to live a happy, healthy life and this is how you will achieve it. Trust me when I say a six-month in-house treatment will be necessary for the depths of your trauma and addictions. We can even provide specialized port keys to and from the treatment center as you continue to work normally and no one needs to know where are you coming from or where you are going."

Hermione looked over at Ron who still looked ambivalent about the suggestion, and squeezed his hand. "We should try. What we're doing isn't working. The nightmares, the drinking isn't getting better—it's gotten worse for both of us."

"Fine," Ron muttered, squeezing her hand back.

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Ministry of Magic

7 Months Later

Hermione stared down at the proposal on her desk, it was the second time she had tried to get this through the Wizengamot. It was a proposal for a government subsidy specifically for any witch or wizard under eighteen that guaranteed children's access to wolfsbane. She had tried before to get equal access to wolfsbane but she had barely gotten twenty percent of the vote when that had been introduced.

Hermione hoped by making this specifically about children it would be easier to pass, and maybe if she talked to Harry about it. The struggle with the program and its effects on her and Ron's relationship had made it harder to keep track of time. She hadn't seen or spoken to Harry .. in a while.

She should change that, especially now that she was almost –almost what she used to be–before everything. At least more like herself, albeit with much more infrequent nightmares, but now she and Ron had safety measures in place, despite her anxiety about being without her wand, it was locked up every night before she went to sleep.

She looked up at the heavy tread of boots, seeing Ron storming up to her, his face red. "What's got you all worked up?"

He gave her a look. "Harry."

"You two still argue like kids."

Ron laughed. "Definitely not like kids, Hermione." He tapped her desk. "You've seen his new girlfriend right?"

"Mhmm. She's one of the clerks in the recordkeeping, she's nice."

"Well?" Ron demanded.

"Well, what?"

"She doesn't look bloody familiar to you?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Just because we both have curly hair—"

"And are the same height, and have the same eye color and look like you could be sisters—"

"Bloody hell Ron, you said something?"

"I just told him it was weird he was shagging an imitation—"

Hermione stood up. "Ronald Bilius Weasley! You did not!"

Ron laughed, a mischievous glint in his eye, and for a second he looked so much like one of the twins, Hermione's breath caught thinking of Fred Weasley. They had been hanging around George too much lately, Ron helping him with the shop in his spare time. "It's true." He said unrepentantly.

Hermione sighed sitting down with a thump and looking at him. As they both managed to work slowly through their trauma and addictions their relationship was changing— or maybe reverting would be more accurate. They had never been passionate in bed, although they had slept together. However, since they had become clean they hadn't slept together intimately. They were in a queer sort of platonic togetherness, sleeping together but no longer intimate.

"Do you find me attractive?" She asked Ron reaching for his hand.

He dropped his gaze to their clasped hands. "Of course."

"You love me?"

Ron's eyes snapped to hers, his blue eyes dark. "I love you so much there's nothing I wouldn't do for you."

Hermione laughed. "I thought we weren't supposed to anticipate something bad happening anymore. Only happy stuff right?"

"Uh… we go get some fish and chips?"

Hermione laughed harder. "That's your happy stuff?"

Ron grinned. "We can go to one of those restaurants that enchant the platter so it automatically refills."

"We are not inviting your brother—you two together got us kicked out last time."

Ron pouted for a second before he grinned. "Yeah, okay whatever. Let's go then."

Hermione started gathering up her papers to take them home since it was after hours anyway.

"Leave them here. You can get them tomorrow."

"I just really want this one to pass–"

"And you can work on it tomorrow, I promise."

Hermione sighed, looking at the paperwork. "Okay. Tomorrow."