Hermione stepped purposefully down one of the Ministry's many corridors. They had made her Head of the Committee on House Elf Civil Liberties! She could hardly believe it! If she could have, she would have hugged herself.

"Hello, Hermione." Percy Weasley cast an ingratiating smile her way from inside his office as she went by. Hermione sent a frostier version back and kept walking. She knew that at the least sign of encouragement, Percy would ask her out. She also knew her icy demeanor only made him view her as a pleasant challenge. But she couldn't bring herself to be warmer toward him. She hadn't forgotten his harsh assessment of Winky and house elves in general years ago. Anyway, she had enough Weasley men on her hands.

"Hullo, 'Mione." That would be Ron, stepping out of his office cubicle further down the hall. "How's HECL?"

Hermione stiffened at the Ministry's insider nickname for her committee. But then she forced herself to smile. After all, wasn't Ron the answer to all her problems now that she had resigned her post and run away from Hogwarts and Severus Snape? "Brilliant! Thanks, Ron."

"How about lunch later today? There's a trolley from Ireland's Own just outside the cafeteria."

"Oh." Lunch at the trolley, as usual. Resentful impatience surged up in her. It wasn't as if Snape had ever taken her out ("Not when everything had to be so bloody secret," she reminded herself), but still, she'd been hoping for a little more imagination from Ron.

"Yeah. Super," she said weakly. "See you then." She continued walking toward her office, her mood considerably deflated.

She'd only been at the Ministry for two weeks, and already, she knew she never wanted to leave. It wasn't the people. The Ministry had in its employ the most stubborn, willful, egotistical, and power-hungry witches and wizards in the United Kingdom. And those were just the Hufflepuffs. Everyone else was much worse. Hermione didn't care. She relished working for a cause and fighting for it. She never doubted the truth of her mission. For that, she was already gaining admiration and acceptance.

Hermione's personal life had not enjoyed a similar upswing. She plunked herself down at her desk and stared moodily at a small photo of Ron set deep in an eye-level cubby. In the photo, Ron's expression changed from self-conscious to self-consciously grinning. Hermione sighed and pulled the photo facedown. She had thought the peacefulness she'd felt with Ron would be the serenity she had been searching for. Ron showed some spark at the Ministry, working for the Department of Ministerial Reorganization. "But let's face it," Hermione thought. "It's a bureaucrat's job." She felt no deep respect for it. And though Ron looked fairly hot these days, much like Bill in his pre-injury prime, he carried the air of the also-ran and the average.

Hermione allowed herself to remember her last conversation with Severus Snape.

Weeks earlier

Her bum was still been burning from her previous encounter with Snape. She knocked tentatively on his office door and pushed it open.

Snape was grinning evilly, all yellow teeth. But when he saw her, his smile disappeared and he looked guarded and defensive.

"Miss Granger." Not a question.

Hermione had been rehearsing what she would say to him and now she said it as quickly as possible. "I think it would be best if we stopped seeing one another." Funny way to put it when they had never officially been going out. " I don't think our, er, relationship has been…good for me. I think it's best we end it."

Snape looked as if he were considering a mildly interesting philosophical theory. "I see."

"Anyway," Hermione plowed on doggedly, "I'll be leaving soon. I've taken a job with the Ministry."

"Ahh. Weasley." He gave her a contemptuous look.

Hermione bit back a holier-than-thou rejoinder. "I'm not suited to teaching," she said mildly. "I want to work for the Ministry." And get as far away from you and this torture as I can, she added silently.

Snape turned his attention back to his books. He waved her away with one hand, as though she were an annoying fly. As Hermione left, she saw a round-eyed girl of about 14 loitering in the doorway.

"Ah, Miss Jones," she heard Snape say gleefully. "So good of you to make it. Please put on these gloves and take a flobberworm…"

Hermione had been all too happy to take her leave of Snape and Hogwarts. But now as she faced the prospect of days, weeks, months, not to say years of Ron Weasley… She sighed again and pushed Ron's photo deeper into the cubby.

She met Ron at the lunch trolley. "How's the reorganization coming?" Hermione asked around a mouthful of sandwich. The bread slices were stale and the cheese was rubbery.

"Good," Ron said. "I can't talk much about it. Wish Harry were here to help out."

"He seemed to be doing well at Gringotts."

"Ah, he won't stay there long," Ron replied knowingly. "He'll be an Auror, too. Snape can't hold him back forever."

"Snape was trying to help Harry," Hermione said, hoping it was true.

"Huh. You don't know that," Ron returned. He stuffed a handful of chips in his mouth. "Hey, these are pretty good, 'Mione. You should try some."

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Hermione said irritably. "And you're so sure that not being an Auror was bad for Harry?"

Ron swallowed hastily. "I wouldn't call taking away his life's goal good," he said.

"Snape must have had a reason."

"Yeah," Ron said warmly. "Spite. Unfairness. Sadism. I can think of lots of reasons."

Hermione glowered. At the same time, she felt cozy. Bickering with Ron always reminded her of her parents' relationship. She couldn't help smiling at Ron with a special, shared smile. He was just like home, like a favorite sweater. Ron smiled back. He really was almost handsome when he smiled, Hermione thought. She noted his big blue eyes with their thick lashes, his enviously unspotted complexion, the freckles fading, and his laughing mouth. Why can't I want him more? Hermione thought.

"Say, 'Mione, let's go out tonight. There's a band playing at Imperio This tonight—Hedwig and the Angry Splinch—" Hermione burst out laughing. "Yeah," Ron went on, chuckling a bit himself. "But George says they're pretty good. So can I collect you around 8?"

"Sure," Hermione said, still laughing. But a note of foreboding sounded deep in her heart.

It was 2 a.m. when Hermione and Ron Apparated from Imperio This to the deserted alley near her flat. George had been right—the band was good. But Hermione caught herself more than once thinking about Snape. "That's your past," she had reminded herself severely. "Here's your future." And she would smile tightly at Ron.

Now, in the alley, there was an awkward silence as Ron began to escort her to her doorway. He kept close by her side. Too close. Hermione wished they could keep their more usual friendly distance. Her heart pounded louder and louder as they got nearer to her threshold. Once there, she managed to smile up at Ron's familiar face. Guilt overwhelmed her. He was so…("nice?" her inner voice said maliciously).

Ron bent down. It was a long way to bend, as he now towered over almost everyone. He put his hand on her shoulder ("that's nice," Hermione thought) and put his lips on hers ("still nice") but then—("agh!") Ron more or less thrust his tongue between her teeth. Apparently someone in his past ("Lavender, no doubt") thought this move was exciting. Hermione willed herself not push him away. She endured the onslaught for a few seconds, then pulled her head back and said as tactfully as possible, "Maybe we could try it with a little less…er, tongue."

Ron's ears began to turn red. Bad sign. Uh-oh, Hermione thought.

"Oh," he said. He bent again and pushed his lips, now firmly closed over his hard teeth, against her mouth. Hermione tried to find some measure of pleasure in the kiss, but there was none.

"Maybe it's up to me," she thought. She relaxed her lips and pressed them gently to his, then licked the corner of his mouth with the very tip of her tongue.

Ron took a deep breath and began licking her mouth. Hermione felt her insides recoil. She forced herself to give him another gentle kiss, then pulled back and managed to smile.

"I have to get up early tomorrow," she said.

"Oh. Oh, yeah." Ron looked at her searchingly, but seemed reassured by her smile. "Yeah. Me, too. So, er, see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, see you tomorrow, Ron." She touched his arm. He smiled again, and she watched him back up a few steps before Disapparating. The afterimage of his smile seemed burned on her eyelids. With a heavy sigh, Hermione tapped her door with her wand ("Alohomora") and stepped inside.

Pushing thoughts of Ron away, she began reviewing her efforts at the Ministry on behalf of House Elves. Winky and Dobby had agreed to help her, and she would be meeting with them tomorrow. As she reviewed what she wanted to say to them, she heard a tapping on her window. Her head snapped up, wand out.

Hopping on her windowsill was a large raven.

"Shoo!" Hermione said. The raven didn't move. It pecked sharply at the window with its beak. "Shoo!" Hermione said again, waving her arms. The bird flapped its wings and gave her an icy glare. It held up a foot. On it, Hermione saw a roll of parchment. She sucked in her breath, ran across the room, and opened the window. The bird flew in and perched on her headboard. "Not there!" Hermione wailed. The bird favored her with another glare and flapped to her table, where it began searching for stray crumbs. Hermione groaned. Just what she needed: bird droppings on her table. "Shoo! Down!" The bird fluttered to a side table and perched on her lamp. Hermione sighed. "Right. Let me get you some food." She rummaged through the refrigerator and found an old roll, which she put on a napkin on the floor. The raven flew down from the lamp and began pecking at the roll hungrily. It didn't seem to mind when Hermione untied the parchment. She unrolled it nervously.

There, in familiar slashing pen strokes, was written:

Hermione—

I promised you some time ago that I had something for you.

Regardless of our estrangement, I urge you to keep this token with you. It works much like the coins you used with the DA. The difference is, if you use a simple summoning charm while holding it, you can force me to Apparate to wherever you are.

Not all threats are known.

Burn this.

The Half-Blood Prince

Hermione looked down at the ground. There, winking in her cream-colored carpet, lay a thin silver ring with an inset green stone.