Hermione thought that if she didn't laugh she'd cry. After weeks and weeks of trying to restore her parents memories, she was no closer than when she'd first started. Except that now she'd used up all her savings, as well as the money from selling her parents practice - she had no choice but to return to England empty handed.

Gods, what she would give to not have to see the pity in everyone's faces back at the Burrow… Actually, that might be preferable to the longing looks Ron had been sending her lately when he thought she wasn't looking. It's not like she doesn't want to be with him, but the emotional strain from the War and everything that came after just left her exhausted. She's barely able to look after herself let alone fan the flames of their not-quite-there relationship.

Sighing, she left her dismal hotel room and slowly made her way back to the Australian Ministry for her return Portkey. She needed a plan - there were several other memory charms left to try but not enough money to support her continued international travel. She didn't want to touch her Order of Merlin funds (a practical witch lives off the interest after all), nor mooch off of her friends.

Okay, what could she do to reduce spending? By September she'd be back in Hogwarts for her Eighth Year, so no more hotel costs or grocery shopping. Harry and Ron had decided not to return for their NEWTS after being offered positions as trainee Aurors within the DMLE. Hermione had received similar offers for other departments at the Ministry and while she'd love to revolutionise the Wizarding World, she wanted the adequate qualifications first.

Still, living at Hogwarts wouldn't save her enough money to finish her memory charm testing with her parents. She needed something to make her money as well, but what could be flexible enough to work around her lessons and revision hours?

Coming to an abrupt stop, she realised that in her musings she'd nearly bypassed the entrance to the Australian Ministry. Shaking her head and reminding herself that even Portkey travel required focus, she changed course and entered the building via the portaloo nearby. Passing through security quickly, she took a seat in the waiting room and examined the newspapers resting on the coffee table.

Surprised at finding the Prophet so far from home, she peered apprehensively at the front page. Still, months after the Final Battle, Harry's face adorned the sheets. 'The Boy Who Lived Resurrecting Hogwarts!' the headline exclaimed - how unoriginal. At least she knew that Hogwarts would be ready for her Eighth Year, maybe she could help with the renovations too.

Skimming the article, and scoffing at the author's word choices (I mean 'Saviour of Education'? Really?), Hermione flicked through the remaining pages. Nothing of note for the most part, however the final sheet caught her eye. A photo of a lady ever so slowly removing articles of clothing! Completely anonymous with a personal add next to it for a subscription mail service. Just before the photo could get too revealing, the image reset and started again.

Hermione couldn't believe it… While the Prophet was hardly a respectable tabloid, she would've expected this more from the likes of Witch Weekly! Unable to look away from the sensual feminine figure, she was filled with emotion - definitely outrage. Children could pick this up! She should write to their head office and demand a retraction.

However, there certainly was something mesmerising about the slow teasing movements of the woman's hands skimming her body. Pulling at the little remaining fabric so it stretched taut over her heaving breasts, nipples poking through the material…

'Portkey to London, England activating in two minutes.'

With a gasp, Hermione slammed the newspaper down and hoped she didn't look as flustered as she felt before rushing out of the waiting room. Grabbing the flashing yo-yo waiting outside, she had a moment to pause and gather herself before feeling the familiar tug at her navel pulling her back to Europe.

Hermione arrived back at the British Ministry, forgetting most of her flustered countenance as she glanced around the entrance hall. Kingsley had already made some great strides since being appointed the interim Minister of Magic shortly after the Final Battle. From weeding out any remaining Death Eaters in his staff, to overturning ancient laws against the mistreatment of muggleborns, Kingsley certainly held the respect of the general population - for now. Hermione hoped that he'd remain such a champion of reform, despite the changing tide of public opinion when the media's time came to move on from the War.

Heels clacking across the marble floor, Hermione made her way towards the large fireplaces outlining the entryway. Hoping to make a quick getaway, she hastened her pace. However, as the volume of conversation around her increased, she resigned herself to becoming the next gossip feature.

'Look! That's Hermione Granger!'

'What do you think she's doing here?'

'She's got some nerve showing her face again.'

'Merlin she's hot, when did she get an arse like that?'

'Nothing but skin and bones she is, needs some meat on her.'

'Well, well, if it isn't Miss Hermione Granger, back from international travel - Australia, was it? What on Earth could be worth portkeying so far, hmm?'

Hermione stilled as she recognised the venomous tone of Rita Skeeter, journalist to the Prophet and constant pain in her backside.

'Ahh touched a nerve, have we? That is interesting…' Rita smirked, quick-quotes-quill at the ready.

Just as Hermione was preparing to tell her what she thought was interesting, a deep voice interrupted their confrontation.

'Hermione, my dear, why don't you join me in my office - we have some important matters to discuss. Apologies, Miss Skeeter, perhaps another day?'

'Of course, Minister', Rita said, through gritted teeth.

Taking a leaf out of Kingsley's book, Hermione opted for a polite smile in Rita's direction before following him deeper into the Ministry.

'I appreciate it, Kingsley, but you really didn't have to step in.'

'Nonsense, Hermione, besides I really do wish to speak with you privately.'

'Oh?'

'We're best waiting until behind closed doors, I think.' Kingsley said with a smile, 'Although you've nothing to worry about.'

Their walk continued in companionable silence, Hermione turning over the past few minutes in her mind. The public could really be quite fickle, it's a good job she takes it all with a pinch of salt. She wouldn't have gotten through Hogwarts if she took every comment seriously and, discrimination aside, there wasn't much that could really hurt her anymore.

Although, Rita's question certainly hit close to the mark. How did she know about Australia? Hermione couldn't risk her parents being discovered, not so much from the remaining Death Eaters at large but from the government itself. Obliviation was questionable at best and illegal at worst - with the scale of Hermione's memory removal she'd be on a one way ticket to Azkaban (War hero or not).

No, she needed to keep away from that irritating woman while attempting to restore her parents memories. That way, no one else would be any the wiser. Hermione tried not to contemplate the depth of hurt and betrayal her parents would feel afterwards - that didn't matter so long as they were safe and could return to their normal lives.

Drifting back to the present, she walked through the door to Kingsley's office and settled on the worn leather chair in front of his desk. After waiting for him to sit opposite her, she prompted: 'So, what can I do for you?'

Kingsley leant forward resting his arms on the desk, 'I'm aware of your recent trips to Australia, in fact most of the Ministry have some knowledge of it. Using frequent portkeys, alone, to the same location with no known ties begins to look suspicious.'

'Kingsley, I-'

'Look, you don't need to explain anything to me - I trust you a great deal. But you need to be more careful, if the Head of the Department of Magical Transportation presses any harder I'll be forced to conduct a formal investigation. Magical travel in general is being heavily monitored at the moment so that we can ensure every Death Eater is captured.'

'Yes, Minister.'

'Please, less of the titles Hermione - you've more than earned the right. This isn't to berate you, just a warning that others are not so trusting nor know you quite as well.'

'Thank you, Kingsley. I promise it's for good reason, although forgive me for not sharing the details. If I have need of another trip, I'll be sure to keep you informed - although it shouldn't be for some time.'

'Of course, Hermione, thank you. Now, would you care to use my floo?'

Thankful for the quick escape, Hermione's thoughts raced as she reached for the floo powder ('nothing to worry about', my arse). At least she had months before needing to leave the country again, but knowing the Ministry was monitoring her made her uneasy. Everyone felt entitled to know her story - the public, the government, her friends… It was all so claustrophobic after the freedom of anonymity in Austrailia.

Exchanging final pleasantries with Kingsley and dreading the further investigation waiting for her, Hermione stepped up to the fireplace and threw the powder at her feet.

'The Burrow!'

Severus was at his wits end - how did he not realise the mundanity of life would be just as much a prison as death? Truly, if he had to suffer through Pomona discussing the weather during breakfast one more time he'd rip his ears off. Curse his stubborn need to get one over on both his masters by surviving the blasted War, he should've left the poison antidote in his storage and then he wouldn't be any the wiser as to the exact shade of sunlight necessary for the mandrakes to flourish.

Minerva, as though privy to his inner turmoil, turned in their direction and distracted the newly appointed weatherwoman with gossip of the returning Eighth Year students. Shoulders sagging in relief, Severus continued with his bacon and eggs mostly ignoring the two witches talking around him. That is, until the beloved Golden Trio (what an utterly ridiculous name) came up in conversation.

'Well Miss Granger will be returning, of course' stated the Headmistress, 'But Misters Potter and Weasley have gone straight into the Ministry.'

Pomona nodded, 'Yes, I expected as much myself to be honest - not the most academically minded those two.'

Severus snorted into his coffee before he could help himself.

'Something to say, Severus?' Minerva asked, raising her brows.

Turning to his oldest friend, Severus offered his most deadpan expression.

After a moment, Minerva gave in and let her face form a small smile, 'Yes alright, Potter and Weasley will be much more suited to their auror training rather than NEWT revision.'

'Maybe this year Miss Granger will focus on her own intellect for once, instead of that of her underperforming friends', Severus muttered.

'My my, was that a compliment we just heard, Minerva?' Pomona teased.

'I do believe it was, Pomona!'

Severus, already regretting his previous remark (surely there's a law against people being so happy in the morning), immediately tried to save face: 'She'll be even more of an insufferable know-it-all without those two idiots hovering around her.'

At that, he pushed away from the table and his unfinished breakfast to billow out of the Great Hall towards his chambers. He could still hear them tittering as he walked the length of the empty House tables, ready and waiting to be filled with students next month.

He could feel the beginnings of a headache brewing just thinking about it and decided that maybe mundane wasn't so bad after all…

Severus made it back to his rooms without incident, finding his remaining breakfast and the Daily Prophet resting on his desk (thank Merlin for house elves). Taking a seat, he observed his personal chambers: comfortable furnishings, book-lined walls, and low level lighting… Yes, it's decided. He'll continue to take breakfast away from the Great Hall until term time (lest he go mad from thoughtless conversation), when Minerva will surely insist on his presence.

Basking in the peaceful silence and the scent of freshly ground coffee, Severus began to eat as he lifted the Prophet from his desk. It surely only contained drivel masked as news-worthy headlines, but he liked to remain abreast of the current Wizarding World climate. Although, seeing Potters face enlarged unnecessarily across the front page certainly put a damper on his appetite, to say the least.

Flipping past the news of Hogwarts renovations, he slowly made his way through the rest of the paper from Death Eater trials to quidditch scores and everything in between. Reaching the final page, he was grateful to have already finished his breakfast as he'd have surely choked on it otherwise.

There, plain as day, was a half naked witch advertising her mail order subscription service. His already bad opinion of the Prophet had officially sunk even lower. Although, England was rather short of psychotic Dark Lords to fill the pages, he supposed.

Severus spared little thought to to his hardening cock (he was just a man, after all) and brought his attention back to the page. Glancing back over the woman's figure moving gently in the image, he was reminded of the dream he'd had last night. He'd woken flushed and pulsing, startled by Minerva's voice through the floo calling him to breakfast (and wasn't that a conflicting feeling). Unable to take care of his … issue, he'd quickly gotten ready and left without a second thought. Until now.

He had time, didn't he? Casting a quick Tempus confirmed the fact. Leaning back in his chair, Severus allowed his mind to wander back to earlier that morning. She wasn't familiar to him, the woman from his dreams, but she was certainly attractive - with an attitude to boot.

She'd kissed him lovingly, while his hands found her waist. Stroking lower and lower, until the swell of her cheeks met his fingers. Squeezing, she gasped against his mouth and he lifted her up, pressing her against him in all the right places. He could feel her hard nipples against his chest, the damp heat between her thighs held to his hips.

She'd been desperate and frenzied, as he carried her to his bed, laying her down gently amongst the black satin sheets. She didn't stay there for long however, sitting up and instead reaching for his thick hard cock already twitching towards her. But good girls have to be patient.

Wandlessly, he'd restrained each wrist to separate bed posts, keeping her heaving chest bared for his pleasure. Softly rounded breasts swelling in the lamp light glow, nipples pink and hard straining for attention. Thighs spread willingly despite the fiery look in her eye, too turned on to really say no to his whims.

With a start, he opened his eyes back in his chambers and noticed his cock pushing hard against the fabric of his robes. His breath coming in short shallow pants as he thought of all the fun he could have with this witch. Indulging, he trailed his fingers resting on his knees up his thighs and shoved the excess fabric away from his hips. His cock sprang free swollen and heavy, into the waiting palm of his right hand.

Beginning slowly, Severus teased the base of his cock barely even forming a fist. He thought of kneeling before the woman in his dreams, kissing up her legs before burying his face in between her thighs. Stubbornly quiet at first, so he focused more attention on her thick pink lips and clit - teasing the noises from her until she couldn't resist anymore. Her sounds urging him to stroke his prick faster, twisting at the head just the way he liked.

He could feel them both building in pleasure, sweat beading on his brow and her body trembling against the ties. Severus imagined reaching up to toy with one of her nipples just so, sucking hard on her clit simultaneously. She'd reached breaking point, her noises echoing loudly against the walls of his bedchamber and he knew it'd only be a matter of time before she came.

Body drawn tight like a bow, Severus continued the furious pace on his cock. His imagination so vivid he could almost taste her sweet tangy juices on his tongue. Pinching her nipple hard, he moved his mouth down to her pussy, slowly pushing his tongue in between her swollen folds. She groaned and pushed her hips further into his face, thighs shaking with the strain.

This was clearly edging her, but he felt his own release rising. Suddenly he freed the nipple from his grasp, instead rubbing it frantically between his fingers, and used his other thumb to circle her clit - meanwhile still tongue fucking her pussy. This was it. Her body tensed and she let out a silent scream, body trembling under him from the overwhelming sensations.

With a grunt, he thrust into his hand desperately, coating his palm in sticky white streaks. Gods, this was what he needed. Heart pounding, head clear, muscles relaxed. Sighing deeply, he rested a few moments - enjoying the calm.

He'd been surprised by the intensity, though it had been a while since he'd took himself in hand. Even longer since someone else had done it for him. Now, wasn't that a thought? The War was over, realistically he could find someone to warm his bed even if only for the night…

Chuckling self-depreciatingly, he pushed the fantasy aside. He wasn't nearly ready to be vulnerable around anybody any time soon. With a quick spell, his hand was clear and his cock tucked away. Back to reality as Hogwarts Evil Potions Master.

Severus left his chambers in favour of visiting the Headmistress for todays construction assignments - maybe she could distract him well enough from his fleeting want of physical companionship.