Figured You Out

Hermione Granger looked up as the clock struck six o' clock. She sighed and sat up, rolling her shoulders to get the cramps out. Yawning faintly, she glanced around the cramped office. Papers were strewn everywhere, blanketing the other chair and half of the floor. She grimaced. Apparently, spring-cleaning was around the corner or the dust mites would take over.

Her partner stuck her head in the door. The fiery red hair was tied back into a sleek ponytail.

"Hey, Hermione. Don't you think you should be leaving soon? After all, we have that banquet thing tonight," Ginny Weasley chuckled. Hermione slapped herself in the forehead.

"Shit, we do, don't we? Still, think maybe I could get in a couple of more hours?" she asked hopefully. Ginny laughed.

"At the rate you're going, you'd be asleep at the banquet. Oh, and by the way, who's holding it?" Ginny's voice was deceptively innocent. Mischief danced through her chocolate brown eyes. For a moment, she looked like she had before the War, before everything went wrong and so many good people died. As if reading Hermione's morbid thoughts, Ginny stopped smiling and stared into Hermione's eyes. However, Hermione didn't see the concern. All she saw was the battles.

Blood splattered the bare ground. Someone nearby screamed, but she couldn't take the time to look over. Dark wizard after Dark wizard fell before her, but there were always more to replace the fallen ones. Soon, her voice grew hoarse from shouting spells, as did the voices of her opponents. They all reverted to hand-to-hand combat. Blood splashed over her robes in a flash of brilliant crimson. Someone knocked into her.

"Get yourself back together girl! This isn't time to stop!" cried the voice of Severus Snape. He blocked another blow, and then went down with a sword in his side. Still he struggled up and Hermione rushed to his help.

She pulled him to his feet. "Get back, Snape. Get yourself some attention!" she screamed at him. He looked at her as if he didn't know her before replying.

"Not on your life, Granger. Not on your life!"

Hermione was snapped back to reality by Ginny's voice.

"It's over Hermione. You don't have to worry about it anymore," the younger witch whispered.

Hermione dropped her head onto her arms. "Just because it's over Ginny, doesn't mean that I'll ever forget." Ginny could barely hear her.

Crossing the room, Ginny patted Hermione on the back. "I know, Mione. I know."

Suddenly, Hermione lifted her head. "Well, if I'm going to that stupid banquet slash ball tonight, I should get home." Ginny noted that Hermione's voice was a little too bright, but didn't comment. Of all of them, Hermione had been hit the hardest by the War.

"If that's the case, then I guess I'll be seeing you later at the damn thing." Hermione laughed and walked out of the office.

Still smiling, she sauntered passed clusters of other working witches and wizards. The drone of voices, both in the room and in photographs, brought Hermione a sense of comfort. It was hard working in her part of the Ministry, the Department of Criminal Investigations, but it was worth it. She loved the long hours and the hard jobs assigned to her. It reminded her of the movies she would watch when she was little, before she knew that she was a witch. She often smiled at how much her job resembled the American movies about policemen or private eyes.

Hermione passed the desk where Neville Longbottom sat. He was glaring at a sheet of paper.

"Hey, Neville. What are you doing?" she asked. Neville jumped and almost spilled his coffee.

"Oh, nothing. I'm just working on that Nott case. Leave it to Theodore to say he isn't involved in criminal activities when all of the primary witnesses have ID'd him. I think he does it just to make our jobs that much more unbearable. The dumbass." Hermione laughed, told Neville that she'd see him later that night, and walked out of the Ministry.

Unlocking the door to her flat, Hermione waved down to old Mrs. Phillips down the hall. At the same time, she rolled her eyes. The lady was a dear, truly she was, but she was also a notorious gossip. Soon, the whole floor would know that 'that Miss Granger down the hall' came home with a mysterious looking package that could have been a dress. Hermione snorted at the thought.

She stepped into the flat and dropped her bags. Turning, she shut the door quietly.

"Crookshanks!" she called. "I'm home old boy!" The fat ginger colored cat waddled out of her bedroom. Crooning to him, she hefted him into her arms.

"You're getting kind of old, aren't you old boy. Soon I'll have to get a kitten that you can teach and boss around." As if understanding her, Crookshanks meowed and started purring. Any other time, she would have smiled, but not today. Her smile was all used out for the moment. She'd have to conserve it for the banquet that night.

Hermione plopped the big cat down onto the kitchen table. He sat there and started to wash. Pulling out three small dishes, Hermione began to tell him all of the events of that day. He purred when she told him the jokes, meowed when she related to him that day's imbecile, and just listened to everything. When she faltered at telling him about the flash of memories, he rubbed up against her hand.

"You're good for. Why should I need a guy around when I've got you," she murmured. Crookshanks almost shrugged.

Hermione shrugged too. The truth was, she didn't think that she needed a guy around. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, as she had proven during her twenty-four years of life. After all, most of that had been fighting one of the darkest wizards in the history of the wizarding world.

A quick glance at the clock in her bedroom showed that it was only seven. She still had over an hour until the banquet started. Stepping into the bathroom, she decided to pamper herself for once.

The bath she drew was scalding hot and scented with juniper. Steam rose invitingly from it and Hermione slipped down with a sigh of gratitude. Bubbles frothed over her and she smiled. It had been a long day and she could feel the tension easing out of her muscles.

Yawning again, she started lathering her hair. The scent of juniper hung heavily in the room.

Finally, Hermione was forced to get out of the water. She didn't want to, but duty called. Slipping on a robe, she stepped into the adjoining bedroom. There, lying across the bed, was her dress for tonight. Not one for short dresses, the one she had chosen was a floor-length sweep of deep gold. It was strapless and the back was cut low with slim gold straps connecting the two sides. The neckline wasn't high, but it wasn't low either. She absolutely loved it. Gold heels sat on the floor in front of it.

Pulling on the dress, Hermione sighed at the feel of the cool silk against her skin. She tugged it into place, slipped on the shoes, and conjured up a mirror. It showed her from head to toe. Except for the jewelry, it was perfect.

Hermione walked over to her dresser and pulled a long velvet box off of it. The earrings and the necklace had been her mother's, passed on from her great-great-great-great- (well she didn't know how many greats) grandmother.

The necklace was three teardrop shaped topaz stones connected to the chain. From the middle stone hung a small diamond. The earrings were of the same design but without the diamond. Not even bothering to take a second look into the mirror, Hermione entered the living room. Crookshanks was asleep on a chair but woke up once she walked into the room. He looked her over once before returning to sleep.

"I'll take that as a compliment," she muttered. From a hook on the wall, Hermione grabbed a cloak the same color as the dress. Seeing as it was a little chilly out, it was velvet. There wasn't any fur. Hermione didn't see the use of wearing a rodent, no matter how cute. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door to find herself face to face with a stranger.

"Miss Hermione Granger, I presume?" he asked with a formal air.

"Yes, actually I am," she replied cautiously.

"The host of the Samhain Ball has asked me to give you this," he said, handing her a letter. Before Hermione could thank him, he was gone. She opened the letter.

In ornate, gold lettering were the following words:

The Ministry of Magic has asked for the attendance of one Miss Hermione Granger at the Samhain Ball. She is to come to 23 North Westminster Lane, South Wizarding London. Arrival is expected at or before 8:30 P.M. Thank you.

Hermione sighed and closed the letter. She grabbed up the little hand bag that Ginny had made her buy and tucked it into there. Taking another deep breath, and hoping not to run into any mysterious men, she opened the door and peeked out. No, no one was there.

"Bye, Crookshanks," she called back inside. Hermione heard a door shut to her left and knew that it was Mrs. Phillips. Oh well. It wasn't as if she had a date with anybody or anything.

Hermione stepped out of the sporty little Muggle car that she had bought to stare in shock at the house before her. Actually, house meant something relatively small. Something with a bathroom or two, about two or maybe even three bedrooms and one of everything else. House was too small a word to describe the place before her. Mansion was better.

It was four stories, with a wide, tall porch wrapping around the front of the place. All of the windows that she could see were ablaze with lights. People were streaming from carriages, off of brooms, and some like her, out of cars.

Shaking her head, she pulled the dress out of the door and handed the keys to a valet. It was amazing how much this was like some of the Muggle parties she had seen. After all, secrecy was important. The more normal it seemed, the better.

Hermione could hear her car speeding off to who knows where, but she didn't really care. She could always Apparate home if she had to. Soon, Hermione knew that everybody had noticed her. A near silence fell on the people walking nearby. They knew that they were looking at one of the greatest fighters from the War. Inside, Hermione felt like laughing at them all, but instead she simply smiled faintly and handed her card to the footman.

Once inside, the voices started up again. Another footman stepped forward for her cloak. She willingly slipped it off. More people began to watch her for the dress, not just the fame.

Outside of the ballroom, Hermione caught up with Ginny.

"If I never have to go through this again, it'll be too soon," she hissed to the redhead. Ginny jumped and then laughed.

"I know, I feel exactly the same." The two old friends laughed easily, glancing at every person that walked by. They did it without thought, a left over reflex from the War.

After a moment of standing there, a tall slim young man stepped forward. His dark hair still fell into his green eyes, masking the lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead.

"Hello Hermione. Hello Ginny," he said softly, gazing into Ginny's eyes for a second longer than necessary. "Ginny, I was wondering if you'd like to dance."

Ginny smiled shyly. "Sure Harry, I'd love to." The couple stepped onto the dance floor and was soon lost to sight amongst the throng of dancing couples. A voice sounded behind her.

"So, are Harry and Ginny an item, then?" Hermione stiffened faintly. Turning to the speaker, she smiled, her eyes shooting daggers at him.

"I suppose you could say that, Malfoy," she said.

The snotty blonde haired boy had turned into the classy platinum haired man quite easily, Hermione noted. However charming though, she still didn't trust him. He had spied for them during the War, but old feelings die hard and she didn't think that she would ever forget, or forgive, him calling her a Mudblood.

"Somebody's mad at me for some reason. Care to tell me why?" he asked, smirking at her.

"If you were supposed to know, Malfoy, then you would," she snapped back. Much to her surprise, he simply laughed and offered her an arm.

"Care to dance?" he asked calmly.

"I don't like to dance," she hissed at him.

"Oh please, Hermione. You'll ruin my image with my friends if you don't. You see," he continued. "They think that I can charm any lady into dancing with me. Since I knew that flattery wouldn't get me anywhere with you, I simply asked."

Hermione thought for a moment before nodding. He took her glass of champagne and set it down on a table. She almost protested, but then realized that it didn't matter anyway. The flute was almost empty anyway.

They swung out onto the middle of the floor. Malfoy's hand was resting lightly on one of her hips, the other clasped hers warmly. Her hand rested on his shoulder.

It's times like these, Hermione thought, that I'm glad Mom made me go to dance lessons. Where else would I have learned to waltz?

Hermione looked up at Malfoy and found he was watching her. Lost in the color of his eyes, she soon lost all track of time. Before she knew it, the dance was over and partners were walking off the floor. Hermione stepped away from Malfoy.

"Thank you, Malfoy," she managed to whisper before returning to the edge of the dance floor.

As she stood there, reliving the past few moments, a voice from the front of the room began speaking.

"My fellow witches and wizards, tonight we celebrate Samhain, or All Hallow's Eve, with our friends and family." Polite applause broke out as the person continued.

"Soon, chairs will be appearing, each with your name on it. Please sit in the assigned chair. Thank you all." The magnified voice stopped talking and everybody shifted.

Magically, the chairs began materializing throughout the room. Hermione found hers and settled down. The chair was surprisingly comfortable and she leaned back.

"Don't enjoy yourself too much Hermione. You might just fall asleep," drawled a voice next to her. Hermione opened her eyes in shock to see that she was sitting right next to Draco Malfoy.

"Great. You again," she muttered. Malfoy simply laughed at her.

"I think somebody's in a bad mood.'

Before Hermione could tell him just what she thought of his opinion, or to be more correct, right where he could shove his opinion, the voice began again. She recognized it as Dumbledore's.

"As I scan the faces of this crowd," he began. Hermione could feel his eyes bore into hers. "I see many I know and am happy to see, but there are so many faces gone." Hermione took a steadying breath.

"Hannah Abbott, Ernie McMillan, Padma and Parvati Patil, Katie Bell, and so many others are gone. Including my once dear friend Ron Weasley." A muffled sob could be heard and Hermione knew that it was Ginny. Hermione hurt for her friend but there wasn't anything she could do. Her hands clenched unconsciously and she felt Malfoy's gaze swing to her. Ignoring him, she continued to stare at Dumbledore.

"So, instead of mourning for their deaths, let us celebrate their lives, loves, and the life they helped us create." Applause broke out, and it wasn't just polite. The people understood what Dumbledore had said and what he meant. Hermione smiled with pride at the old, former Headmaster of Hogwarts.

"Now that we have that over with, there are a few awards we would like to award for bravery during the war." Malfoy snorted faintly and Hermione turned a questioning look on him. He simply shrugged at her.

"First, to Virginia Weasley, we award a medal for bravery, skill, and a steadfast heart under fire." Ginny stood and walked over to accept the medal. Pride radiated from her, but only Hermione heard her say, "For Ron," when she walked back.

The medals were awarded and most of the people had one. Even Snape had been rewarded. Hermione couldn't help but grin at the sour look on his face.

"And now, we have three final awards to give out to three very special people. These three helped us defeat Lord Voldemort even if it meant going against everything that they had ever been taught." Dumbledore picked up a simple silver medallion with the Hogwarts crest on one side and words of some sort on the other. With it, he also gathered up a medal for valor.

"To Draco Malfoy, I award these gifts. He did his best in spite of violent opposition from nearly everyone around him. He gave us invaluable information before being attacked by Voldemort's right-hand man, his own father. Unfortunately, Lucius wasn't as lucky as his son is." Hermione chuckled under her breath remembering how Lucius had died.

Draco had taken his father's wand away and hit him with the Leg-Locker curse. The elder Malfoy then had the misfortune to fall onto the sword that he had just tried to stick his son with. Fate was a very fickle lady.

"I am sure that many of us here would recognize this next name. Actually, all of us have known this boy's name since he was only a year old. I need not list the virtues of Harry Potter, for there are too many and we all know them anyway." Harry walked up to accept his medallion and medals, flushing faintly.

Dumbledore whispered something to the nation's hero that had him smiling.

Snape was the one who spoke this time.

"The name and face of the next, and final, person we wish to announce, are well known throughout all of England and Europe. She is renowned as a fierce fighter and has probably saved the lives of many of us in here, mine included. Hermione Granger has proven herself to be the type of person that legends are made of. If not, then they should be." That last statement shocked everybody in the room, especially Hermione. Hermione walked up to the podium, shaking. Snape held up the medallion and dropped it over her head.

"Don't let it go to your head, Granger," he warned icily.

"Oh don't worry. I won't. Not on your life, Snape. Not on your life."