Hermione Granger and the Deathly Hallows

Dolores Umbridge was not in a good mood. She had been sitting in the frigid, dark corridor outside the Ministry courtrooms for well over an hour with no hope in sight. The owl had told her that her hearing was supposed to start at precisely four o'clock, but thanks to the mismanagement of the newly organized Ministry of Magic, they were running late. Again. Dolores clutched her bright pink cardigan closer to her with an impatient hmph. When she had been in charge of trials, they had always run on time. She really despised unpunctuality.

There was only one guard patrolling the hallway and he wasn't really paying attention to her, preferring to read today's edition of the Daily Prophet. That was another horrible lapse in judgment: to no longer use dementors in these proceedings. Three former Death Eaters had already tried to escape during their hearings; fortunately, they had been subdued thanks to the Aurors, but if the dementors had still been here, the prisoners wouldn't have dared to even think about it. The new Minister of Magic may list as many complaints as he wished about the past year, but he had to admit that they had at least had order. Yes, they were all under the thumb of the most powerful Dark wizard to exist in magical history, but there hadn't been any panic or riots or attempted rebellions or anything of the sort. Everyone had been calm, subdued, and perhaps even happy. There was no need to complete turn the carefully constructed Ministry on its head and change everything. Dolores loathed change. Especially if it directly affected her.

Dolores opened her pink, patent-leather purse to extract the neatly folded letter so she could read it again:

Dear Ms. Umbridge,

It has been brought to our attention that during the past year, you have passed some questionable legislation that may suggest that your allegiances were not entirely to the Ministry. Therefore, you are requested to attend a hearing at four o'clock on the 13^th of September in order to determine if you should be charged with sedition and crimes against humanity. I suggest that you are prepared with legal assistance or witnesses to testify upon your behalf.

Any questions may be directed to the Magical Law Office.

Yours sincerely,

Curtis Donwald

Department of Magical Law

Ridiculous, Umbridge tutted as she returned the letter to the safety of her purse. Over half of the former cabinet had received similar letters; now that the Ministry had gained some sort of structure under Kingsley Shacklebolt's leadership, they were intent on seeking out every possible spy or mole that He-Must-Not-Be-Named had placed within the Ministry. Little did they know that it would be impossible to find everyone. Some would get away with the Imperius Curse defense, some would be acquitted for lack of evidence, and some wouldn't even be tried at all. In spite of all of their efforts, some would remain. Even a toad like Dolores Umbridge could foresee that. They really should focus on rebuilding their new world instead of wreaking vengeance on those who had destroyed the old one.

With a sudden jerk, her purse skidded off the bench and landed several feet down the corridor. Dolores jumped to her feet, wand immediately in hand, waving it anxiously all around her. "Who's there?" she demanded.

The guard looked up from his paper with a quizzical frown. "Is there a problem?"

"Yes, indeed," Umbridge bit out in annoyance. Obviously there was some sort of issue if she was wielding her wand in preparation for battle. "Someone else is here."

The wizard, who looked as though he should be in fifth-year at Hogwarts, extracted his wand. "Hello?" He murmured a charm under his breath and shrugged. "No one's here, ma'am."

"How can you be certain?"

"Revealing Charm, ma'am," the guard explained. "We're alone here, ma'am, I promise you." He came a few steps closer so the torchlight shone more brightly on his face, revealing his vaguely familiar features. .

Dolores took a step back and raised a shaking finger. "I know you."

"Yes. You do." His grip tightened on his wand as he continued to come closer and closer until Umbridge couldn't take it anymore, turned around, and recklessly broke out into a run, squealing like a frightened piglet, heart hammering, certain that this man was convinced that the only atonement for her transgressions was to take her life cruelly away from her, in this very hallway, before she had a chance to defend herself. She had completely forgotten about the wand in her hand; she was overcome by the basic instinct to run, run as fast as you can and never look behind you--

WHACK

"Oomph!" Umbridge gasped as a Trip Jinx came out of nowhere, knocking her stubby legs forward so she landed flat on her back, her wand and breath flying far away from her. Something tugged and broke around her neck. She writhed like a dying cockroach, arms and legs flailing uselessly as she was suddenly catapulted into a full-blown panic attack at the realization that right here on this very spot, she was going to breathe her very last breath. This was where she was going to die. "HELP! HELP!"

Hands were on her stout arms, pulling her back into a standing position. "Dolores, what is it, what's wrong?" Mafalda Hopkirk asked worriedly.

"Someone's here!" Umbridge gasped out. She pointed to the empty space behind them, no longer terrified of the Ministry guard who was just joining them with a small smile on his face. "The jinx--it came from over there--someone's there! Under an Invisibility Cloak! I'm sure of it!"

Mafalda put her arm around Dolores and patted her anxiously while Percy Weasley stepped forward to murmur another spell. Nothing happened. He turned back with a shrug. "No one's there, Dolores."

Umbridge glared at the redheaded boy. He used to be the only Weasley she had been able to tolerate. But ever since the war had ended, he had become just as meddlesome and smug as the rest of his kind. For example, he had always treated her with the utmost respect, calling her by her title and bowing to her judgment. He never would have dreamed of calling her by her first name a few months ago. The world really was changing. "There is," she insisted. She shook herself free of Mafalda's tentative attempts at comfort and stalked forward. "I'll find him myself."

Percy stepped forward to intervene. Dolores was forced to come to a reluctant halt, rolling her eyes. Thanks to this recent fall from prestige, she had to obey with the younger man's requests. She couldn't wait to get reinstated; the first thing she would do was fire the idiot. "Just a moment, Dolores." He turned to the guard. "Dean, did you see anyone?"

Dean Thomas shook his head innocently. "Mrs. Umbridge said she thought someone was down here and just started panicking. I tried to reassure her, but that just set her off even more." He looked over at the seething woman, looking anything but apologetic. "I'm sorry if I upset you."

"You wanted to upset me," Dolores hissed accusingly. She jabbed her finger at him. "I remember you now--you were one of those in Potter's crowd--in Dumbledore's Army--you're trouble--"

"I doubt very much that anyone who sided with Harry Potter is trouble," Percy interjected coldly, conveniently ignoring the fact that he had once upon a time asked his youngest brother to stay away from the hero. "And I don't understand why anyone would want to upset you, Dolores."

"Well, I don't either, but he did!" Umbridge said exasperatedly. She straightened her all-pink attire and smoothed her hair, and as her hands passed over her collar, she suddenly realized what must have happened. "My locket! It's gone!"

Mafalda's brown creased. "What locket?"

"It's a family heirloom--very rare--not to mention sentimental value," Dolores huffed. She wheeled around to accuse the smirking boy who irked her so. "You took it!"

"You mean this?" Dean held up the heavy gold locket with the Slytherin 'S' embossed in the center of it. "It fell off when you tripped."

She jerked sharply in surprise. It was one of the few times that Dolores Umbridge was at a loss. She dropped her accusing finger so she could snatch the precious necklace from the boy's fingers. It certainly looked exactly like it. "But--" she fretted as she looked once again down the empty space. She had thought a curse had hit her from that direction, but now she wasn't so sure. She paused to rub her forehead. She'd never admit it to anyone, but ever since she had been dragged off by the centaurs, Dolores had had a bit of trouble with her nerves, becoming rather paranoid at times. Perhaps it was just another flare up of that again, due to the stress of the hearing. That certainly made a lot more sense than any other theory.

Everyone else in the corridor seemed to agree; when another Ministry official poked his head out of the courtroom to inquire if everything was all right, Mafalda hastily answered yes and bustled back inside. Percy followed suit, smirking in that infuriating way that all his other brothers did. Dolores, still confused, started back to the bench to docilely take her seat again, but the guard stopped her to point out that the official at the door was gesturing to her to also enter the courtroom. It was time. Dolores Umbridge took a deep breath, tottered to the open door, and stepped inside to meet whatever fate lay in store for her.

Dean managed to contain himself until the door closed, but just barely. He dropped to his knees, clutching his stomach, laughing as quietly as humanly possible and slapping his hand against the floor in his mirth. Several yards away, the air shimmered and parted to reveal a very red-faced Ron Weasley, who was having just as much difficulty controlling himself. He dropped the Invisibility Cloak to the floor, but kept his other hand tightly around Umbridge's locket which had Summoned off her neck after Tripping her. It took several minutes, but Ron was finally able to straighten up and catch his breath, still grinning. "That was brilliant."

"Did you see the way she shrieked when I started towards her?" Dean got out between his fits of glee. He jumped up to imitate the menacing walk he had adopted and promptly doubled over again. "And you nailed her with that Jinx!" he added in a hushed voice, hurrying towards Ron so they could continue to discuss their genius without fear of detection. Ron's well-trained eye jumped all around them to ensure they were still alone before he could set to work. Dean curiously watched as Ron pointed his wand at the locket he had stolen. "So you got what you needed?"

A quick Finite Incantatem returned the locket to its original state. Ron grinned as he held up the silver locket he had seen around Hermione's neck so many times. "Yeah. I did."

**

"Ron!"

"Whoa!" Ron exclaimed as Hermione recklessly threw herself out of her chair and onto him, knocking his chair dangerously off-balance. If Harry hadn't quickly grabbed it, all of them would have ended up in a pile on the storeroom floor. Ron laughed as Hermione's arms remained fast around his neck, her legs straddling his, and her lips continued to express her gratitude in the best possible way. Harry pulled a face and hastily busied himself with finding some pumpkin juice in the far corner of the room, although, as Hermione had predicted, he was no stranger to his two best friends snogging. "You like it?" Ron asked with charming and feigned naiveté

. "Of course I do!" Hermione cradled her lost treasure in her hands as if she couldn't believe it was really real. "You knew--but Ron, how did you--"

"Happy birthday," Ron interrupted with a smirk. It was really fun to see Hermione knocked off guard. He was going to do loads more.

"It's not my birthday yet," Hermione corrected automatically. "It's in three days."

"I know," Ron answered. "I just couldn't wait."

Hermione leaned back, remaining on his lap, eyes searching his. "How?"

He stretched his arms proudly. "It was nothing. I just went to the Ministry--to see Dad of course--and happened to go down to the courtrooms when Umbridge happened to be there and I just happened to have Harry's cloak and Dean just happened to be on duty that day so after I Summoned it off of her, he had a fake one to give to her, like it had fallen off her neck when she tripped." He shrugged one shoulder modestly. "Easy."

"Why'd she trip?" Harry asked from his corner.

"Trip Jinx," Ron replied as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

Harry laughed. "Brilliant."

"You should've heard her," Ron said eagerly, shifting in his chair so he could see past Hermione's earnest eyes and look at Harry. "She sounded a gnome stuck in cold water. Never heard anything like it."

"Well, next time you do it, I get to come," Harry said. He nodded his head towards the cloak that Ron had returned earlier that evening. "Otherwise, no cloak."

"Next time?"

Ron grinned. Next time. That was the best idea Harry had ever had. "Yeah, next time," he echoed with a teasing pull to Hermione's curl as she stared wide-eyed at him. "Do you want to come too?"

"No," Hermione protested although Ron knew instantly that she was lying. She looked back and forth between her two best friends. "We aren't in school anymore; we can't be playing pranks like that anymore. You could get into serious trouble..."

"Okay, yeah, you're right," Ron said solemnly. He held out his hand. "Give it back. I'll return it and apologize first thing tomorrow."

Harry managed to disguise his snicker as a cough while Hermione gave Ron a sour look and clasped the locket securely around her neck. "That was different," Hermione said with dignity. "You did that for a good cause, not just to torture her."

"Hermione," Ron disagreed, "torturing Umbridge is a good cause. Not just a good cause: an excellent cause. I think we should get a medal for it. Not that Harry needs anymore," he added.

Harry made another disgusted face in agreement. It seemed like every single Ministry, business, organization, and any body of people who had an award to offer had given it to him. He had hoped that now that the war was over, he could slip out of the eyes of the media, but now it seemed that they were hungrier for him than ever.

Hermione ignored the attempt to change the subject and fixed Ron with another stern look so he knew he wouldn't get off too easily. "That was really dangerous," she chided. "You shouldn't have done it. What if she started asking questions or thought to search the area or use a Revealing Charm--"

"Then it's a good thing that someone brilliant taught me how to do a Confundus Charm," Ron interrupted. Hermione opened her mouth and promptly shut it; he had made an excellent point. "Don't worry, Hermione, I was fine. I have done things like this before. Fr--"

That effectively killed the mood. Ron's mouth snapped shut as the invisible and ever-present grief slugged him in the gut. This happened every single day: he would be going along, perfectly fine, and then, all of the sudden, out of nowhere, bam, like a Bludger to the head, it would hit him: he had lost a brother. He had lost a very great brother who he should have appreciated loads more and who didn't deserve to die the way he did. Fred deserved to have been able to laugh and joke for many, many more years. Ron had to close his eyes and lower his head for a second. He really didn't know how Harry, who had lost so many loved ones, was able to even function. He had only lost one member of his family and during moments like this, he couldn't seem to remember how to breathe, let alone do anything else. And it wasn't getting any easier; it was three months later, and it still hurt too much to say Fred's name. He knew logically it was still rather soon, and that within a few more months and years, the grief would start to wane, but he also logically knew that it would never really go away. He could never forget Fred; ergo, the anguish and loss would never go away. Fred would always live in that tender place underneath his breastbone: a constant, aching reminder of the biggest loss he had suffered in the war.

Hermione's hand was on his cheek, one slim finger slipping down to raise his chin and lift him out of his dark thoughts. Her eyes sparkled with sympathy, but her voice was as strong and Hermione-like as ever. "Just because the twins taught you well doesn't mean you can't still be careful," she scolded kindly. "That was rather dangerous, what you did."

"The best things always are," Ron returned. "And they're always worth it."

Hermione couldn't help smiling at that. "Thank you," was all she could say.

"You're welcome."

Harry's eyes quickly closed as he turned his back to his friends. "Could you please not snog just for once?"

"We're not!" Hermione protested, blushing brightly.

"I know the warning signs!" Harry retorted.

"Hey, do you want to keep snogging my sister?" Ron shot right back.

Harry snorted, knowing perfectly well Ron would never follow through on that particular threat, and even if he did, he wouldn't succeed: Ginny would murder him before he could even try to stop them.

Hermione chuckled under her breath as she ignored Harry's request and dropped a soft and much too quick kiss on Ron's lips before glancing at her watch with a sigh. "We better go."

"What? Already?" Ron asked, disappointed. "You just got here."

"We told you we couldn't stay for very long," Hermione reminded him. She slid off his lap so she could collect her belongings. "We were supposed to just pop by to say hello and then study for N.E.W.T.s, but you decided to distract us instead."

"Well, you're always studying," Ron said. He gave her what he thought was his most charming smile. "Can't you take one night off?"

"No," Hermione refused instantly, aghast that he would even suggest it. "The exams are less than two weeks away!" Ron leaned back in his chair in disappointment; Hermione fell back in her chair so she could lay her hand over his. "It's your own fault," she chided. "We're both at work all day--you usually have to work all night--and you know that I only have time to study at night, so of course we're not going to be able to see each other then, unless of course you study with me." She squeezed his hand to appeal to him once again. "You could still take the N.E.W.T.s with me, McGonagall said that she'd waive the application process for you--"

"Hermione, no," Ron refused for the eleven-hundredth time. "I'm not taking any tests I don't have to. Not after the year we've just had. I'll take them when I need to."

"And when will that be?" Hermione demanded.

He shrugged. "Dunno. Someday."

"Ron."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Look, Hermione, there's no way I could learn everything in two weeks and you know it. It's too late. I'll just take them next year."

Hermione narrowed her eyes suspiciously and pointed a stern finger at him. "Promise?"

"Yeah, sure," Ron said half-heartedly, wondering if he actually did mean it. N.E.W.T.s didn't seem to be very important to him; nor did becoming an Auror, for that matter. Taking care of the joke shop was at the top of his list of priorities at the moment and while it was admittedly not the best of jobs, it was a perfectly adequate one. He could do a lot worse. Besides, George couldn't run this place by himself.

George couldn't live by himself right now, Ron corrected himself. That's why he had moved in to Fred and George's flat over the joke shop instead of living with Harry, as he had originally intended. Fortunately, Harry had found a great place in Muggle London so they still saw each other everyday. Hermione was still with her parents, helping them readjust to moving back home. She was even temporarily taking over as her parents' receptionist at their dental practice; she worked there everyday and at night, Apparated to London to study with Harry. She also, being the mental person that she was, had already sent out twenty-five thousand job applications so as soon as she received her N.E.W.T. scores, she could send them to interested offices and secure a post as soon as possible. Harry, on the other hand, had a bit of an easier time; Kingsley had offered him a position in the Auror training squad, saying he didn't even have to take the exams, but Harry had refused, rather stupidly, in Ron's opinion. Harry didn't want anything handed to him on a silver plate just because he had saved the world. He intended to work just as hard as everyone else to achieve everything he wanted, so he was studying harder than ever so he could rightfully earn his spot among the Aurors.

Yes, there was no doubt in Ron's mind that his friends were moving up, as he always knew they would. In no time, they would be setting the world of fire, revolutionizing whatever fields they were fated to conquer. They would be amazing. He knew they would.

And he--Ron waited for the very familiar pang of self-deprecation to kick him in the pit of his stomach, but to his surprise, it didn't come. There was just a very odd and very wise knowledge that it wasn't his time just yet. His family needed him to remain with them just a little longer as they floundered to recover from the atrocities of war. But one day, when they were ready, he would follow his best friends and be ready to show everyone what he had only very recently discovered himself: that Ron Weasley was worthy to be best friends with Harry Potter and Hermione Granger.

Hermione had finished lugging her much-too-heavy schoolbag over her shoulder and was giving Ron a curious look, as if she could read his mind. "You all right?"

"Never better," he assured with a grin as he got to his feet. "I should get back to inventory."

Hermione's brow creased in sympathy as she looked around the cluttered storeroom, knowing Ron would be trapped back here for hours on end. The twins hadn't been the best at organization. "All right. I'll stop by tomorrow?"

"Sure," Ron agreed.

Harry gave his best mate a wave before Apparating back to his flat to give the two of them some privacy and avoid another eyeful of their snogging. As soon as Harry was gone, Hermione seized her chance, and promptly made Ron very, very disappointed that she was leaving him for the rest of the night. "Thank you for my present," she said quietly to him after several minutes of pure heaven.

"Anytime," Ron returned. He slid his hands up and down her waist, still not really believing that he was so lucky. "Anything else I can steal for you?"

Her only reply was a little laugh, one more kiss, and a smile before she too Apparated to Harry's for a long night of studying. Ron stood still for a minute, already missing her, before resigning himself for a long night as well. After all, he was a working man now.

But he had only just knelt down to examine the contents of the next carton of supplies when a loud Apparition 'pop' charged him instantly back into war-mode. Ron jumped back to his feet with his wand at the ready, using the box of fireworks as a shield if necessary. He quickly relaxed when he saw who it was and lowered his wand with a huge sigh of relief. "Harry! Don't do that!"

"Sorry," Harry apologized, although he didn't sound sorry in the slightest. In fact, he looked positively mischievous. "I only have a minute--but I couldn't tell you in front of Hermione: we're learning human transfiguration tonight."

Ron's eyebrows shot up excitedly. "Really?"

Harry nodded eagerly. "You know what that means?"

"Malfoy the Amazing Bouncing Ferret?"

"Or how about Dolores the Fat Squealing Pig?"

Ron let out a contented sigh of pleasure. "I love N.E.W.T.s." He looked around frantically to make sure Hermione hadn't also popped back into the room. "I didn't say that," he added hastily.

"'Course not," Harry confirmed. "See you."

"See you," Ron returned as Harry disappeared once again. With a grin, he returned to work, entertaining himself with visions of ferrets and pigs. It was nice to know that no matter what careers and life-paths the three of them took, some things would never ever change.

When he heard George lock the front door a few hours later, Ron emerged from the back room, covered in dust and with a long list of data. "Got through all this," he reported, handing George the scroll of parchment. "I'm almost done back there."

"Good," George praised as he leaned against the counter to scan the list. He frowned and pointed to one particular item. "We only have one crate of Decoy Detonators left?"

"Yeah," Ron answered.

George swore and touched his forehead wearily. "Fred always made those," he admitted quietly. "And those go like Cauldron Cakes--we're going to need more fast."

"I can try," Ron offered. "Hermione and Harry could give me a hand too. I bet we could figure it out."

George nodded blearily. "Good," he repeated absently. He rubbed his face again, the dark circles under his eyes standing out in vivid contrast to his pale skin. Although George repeatedly assured everyone that he was all right, you just had to take one look at him to know that he was lying rather horribly. Ron knew from sharing a flat with him that he hardly slept and only ate whenever forced to and while he was always polite and friendly to customers and friends, anyone who knew him well could see that he was operating on autopilot, simply going through the motions and saying all the right words, but without any effort or heart. He couldn't seem to care about anything anymore, not even the things that had once made him so happy. He looked around the joke shop he had worked so hard to put together, not caring that it was in complete disarray, as it always was after a busy day. "Can you finish up?" he asked while waving a hand at the register. "We just need to count what we took in and clean up a bit."

Ron normally would have argued that if they worked together, they would finish up in half the time, but he just nodded compliantly instead. "Sure."

"Thanks." George gave him a clap on the shoulder before shuffling around the counter. "Night."

"Night," Ron called back although they both knew George wouldn't go to sleep any time soon. Ron watched his brother go to the stairs that led to their flat with a tight sense of helplessness in his chest. He was trying to help; he really was. He just wasn't sure it was doing anyone any good. Hermione told him over and over again that it was; that just being here for George was all any of them could do at the moment, but Ron wasn't so certain. There had to be something they could now to help. No one should have to suffer like that.

Ron opened the register with a sharp yank, jaw clenched with the flood of anger that consumed him once again. The war was over. They should be happy. They shouldn't still be sick and tired and aching. It just wasn't fair. They had worked so hard and suffered so much so it should be their time to celebrate and rejoice and finally live. That's what should happen. But war's never over when it ends; there are always the things that will never leave your minds and hearts. There are some things you'll never get over, no matter how much you want to. Voldemort's war was one of those horrible things.

"AARGH!"

The register instantly slapped shut as all of Ron's old instincts, already sharpened from his earlier scare, kicked back into action. He knew this time, it wasn't just Harry Apparating here and scaring them. This was an actual scream of terror. This was the same scream Hermione had screamed when she had been tortured by Bellatrix. His brother was terrified and scared and really hurt. Someone was doing that to his brother.

"George!" Ron shouted frantically as he vaulted over the counter and charged towards the rickety staircase that led up to their flat. "George!" he yelled again, praying that he would get an answer or some sort of assurance that his brother was alive and fighting, because there was no way he could survive losing another member of his family. "George, you all right?"

But the only answer Ron Weasley received when he reached the door to their apartment was a curse to the chest that sent him flying backwards, tumbling down the staircase, and landing with a sickening thud at the very bottom of the steps. He didn't get up.

There are some people in the world who probably thought that as soon as the war had ended, all was well for our fair friends.

They really thought all was well.

All was well?

All was well?

Not just yet.