Chapter Ten

"Well you look terrible," June said, knocking on the frame of her office before walking up to Hermione's desk and setting a steaming cup of coffee down. It was Tuesday morning and June's day to grab the office coffee. "Did I miss more of a party than I thought?"

"No parties. I left right after you abandoned me." Hermione shot June a look.

"Hey, as fun as it is to be out and about with my boss and three known You-Know-Who supporters… no matter how hot some of them are it's not worth missing my mum's homemade spaghetti"

Hermione grumbled as she took the coffee, it did sting a bit that June left her there, but then again June was almost eight years younger than Hermione. Her parents had pulled her from Hogwarts before things had gotten bad, so June had never been part of the war or seen the horrors that had happened at the hands of the Dark Lord's supporters. While the wizarding world burned, June had been safely tucked away in some corner of Norway.

She probably didn't think twice about leaving Hermione in a small back room with them. Most of the Slytherins in her year who were out of Azkaban were regarded by the younger groups as counterculture sex symbols as much as Boogeymen.

Hermione didn't blame June, she was glad the younger woman had a lightness about her, a carefree weightlessness that Hermione couldn't ever remember having. It gave her hope to see the shadows of the war lessening with each graduating year from Hogwarts.

The rest of the day went uneventfully, Hermione drowned out her inner dialog with stacks of import licences and legal paperwork which had piled up as she had focused on the potions supply store. It was dull and monotonous work, sorting, stacking, re-organizing but before she knew it June and Nico were calling their goodbyes as they tossed on cloaks and clocked out for the evening.

Hermione stayed as long as she could at the office, it wasn't until the house elves began their cleaning for the evening that she got up and made her way home. At least it would be a quiet and solitary night, Ginny was busy with quidditch practice, Harry and Ron would be on patrols most of the month and honestly, Hermione's social circle didn't extend much further than them.

She preferred it that way, even after the war, when they had all been plastered all over the papers and hounded by reporters and well wishers Hermione had never liked surrounding herself with people she didn't know. Ron had thrived off the attention and social aspect the fame had brought them.

Harry and Hermione had less enthusiasm regarding their new status' and had hung back from the public limelight. Harry had no interest in the infamy which had plagued him from infancy and throughout his school career and Hermione had no interest in being the victim the media so desperately wanted her to be. After the trials it had all calmed down relatively quickly, by the end of their relationship even Ron had grown weary of his adoring fans, lack of privacy and the constant bombardment of people who felt entitled to his attention.

Hermione enjoyed the quiet. Her flat was the type where people paid good money so they weren't bothered by outside attention or by nosey neighbours. Originally, after the breakup with Ron, she had wanted a small country cottage but her friends had begged her to stay in the city where they could all keep an eye on each other, so she had settled on a small flat in the quietest and most private corner of the city she could afford. It was a two bedroom flat, nothing out of the ordinary for a regular Ministry of Magic employee but it was hers and she had fallen in love with the hardwood floors, big bay windows and built-in bookshelves.

With all the excitement of the past week Hermione really needed a quiet night in, a large glass of wine, Crookshanks on her lap and a book so thick and heavy she would need to prop it on a pillow to hold it up. She unlocked her door, flipped on the lights and was greeted by the happy yowl of Crookshaks as he jumped off of the kitchen counters to saunter over to her.

"Naughty boy, you know you aren't supposed to be up there!" she scolded, scooping him and planting a kiss on the top of his head.

An owl sat on the perch by the kitchen window which is why Crookshanks was probably up there. She frowned, watching the owl, not many people had her address and even fewer sent her mail. She had a post box where all of her official mail went that was gone through by the Auror department every two days to weed out anything unpleasant or dangerous.

Slowly she opened the window and the young eagle owl hopped in and held out the letter it carried in its beak. Hermione cast several charms as a precaution but there seemed to be nothing dangerous about the note, gingerly she reached out and took it. Immediately the owl took off through the open window.

The letter was addressed to her in an elegant spidery script and when she flipped it over there was a silver seal. She closed the window before letting Crookshanks down from her arms and turning on the lamp to better examine the seal. She thought she could make out a 'Z', and the only 'Z' she knew was Zabini. And "knew" was perhaps a bit of a stretch.

She had no idea how he got her address but tonight was not the night to be dealing with mysterious letters from him. She tossed it onto her table unopened, after all she had until tomorrow evening to give them her answer and that letter could most definitely wait until morning.

Thirty minutes later Hermione was freshly showered, her curls contained beneath a towel. She had slipped into an old 'Weird Sisters'' shirt and some loose grey joggers, poured herself a large glass of wine and began browsing her books. The built-in bookcases in the living room were full of her favourite and most read books. The two wooden one's in her bedroom were full of reference and spell books and the one in the spare room was full of everything she couldn't fit anywhere else. She had resorted to making stacks on the floor for the overflow.

She really did need more bookcases she mused idly as she gently caressed their spines. A large thome on 16th century portrayals of alchamy in tapestry and hand woven textiles she had picked up but never gotten around to reading caught her attention and after a few moments of recovering it from the bottom of one of the piles she managed to free it and heft it into her arms.

Carefully she put it on the side table by her favourite reading chair, lit a candle and grabbed the soft sage throw blanket Ginny had crocheted.

The blanket had been Ginny's first and last attempt at crochet and it was a disaster of a blanket. One side sagged much longer than the others, two of the corners rounded while the other two were pointed and none of the stitches seemed to match. Ginny had ruefully told her that she would never be as good as Molly at needlework but she had been tired of everyone getting a jumper or something handmade for Christmas while Hermione didn't. It was one of the nicest gifts Hermione had ever gotten.

Hermione sighed contentedly as she tucked her feet under the blanket. Crookshanks, having finished his supper, jumped up and curled up beside her. She took a sip of wine and opened her book, determined to relax in the pages of descriptions of ancient tapestries and the hidden secrets of the looms used to weave them.

Sometime later a knock at her door startled her back to her flat in the twenty-first century. She checked her watch, it was half past ten. Ginny, Harry and Ron all had direct access to her floo network for emergencies, anyone from the ministry would as well. She didn't know the neighbours and outside of the building manager, a rather surly looking but sweet Welshman, no one should be bothering her at this hour. Gently sliding out from the blanket, trying not to disturb the dozing Crookshanks, Hermione made her way to the front door, limping slightly at the pins and needles in the foot she had been sitting on.

Not bothering to unhook the chain, Hermione cautiously cracked the door open and froze, Theodore Nott stood nervously at her doorstep fidgeting with a coin.

"Ah. There you are. Evening Granger." He said awkwardly.

Hermione closed the door in his face.

A/N: I meant to upload this yesterday but I was doing poorly and instead doom scrolled ticktok and watched Gossip Girl to distract myself. I'm planning on another upload or two this week and since I'm on holiday this weekend I'll do two or three chapters on Friday instead.