34 HOURS AGO

The sky seemed brighter as Hermione walked up to her flat. She had a job now, and soon she would see her son again. But she stopped dead in her tracks when she entered. She had intended to change into trousers and a T-shirt before picking Caleb up from his grandmother's house. (The constricting propriety of the pencil skirt and prim Oxford blouse she'd worn to her interview was stifling, and she was ready to drab down.) But the sight of her ex-husband made her forget herself.

"R-Ron?"

The redhead didn't respond. In fact, he wasn't even conscious. He was sprawled out over her couch, an empty bottle of Scotch on the floor beside him. The place reeked of alcohol, and she wondered how much he'd had, and how long he'd been there. Panicked, Hermione fished her mobile phone out of her handbag, and dialed her mother's phone.

"Hello," Jane Granger answered cheerfully.

"Mum," she said in a quiet voice. "I've got a problem."

"What's wrong, sweetheart?"

Hermione hesitated, glancing at the offending body on the couch. "Ron's here."

There was silence on the other end. "Call the police."

"I plan to." She paused, feeling more and more anxious. "What could he possibly want?"

Jane sighed. "I don't know, dear, but I think you'd be better off phoning the police, then interrogating him. Just in case he doesn't respond well."

"You're probably right," she agreed. "I'll phone them in just a moment. Can you…" she trailed off, her throat suddenly thickening. "Can you keep Caleb there? I don't want him to see Ron."

"I'll tell him it's a surprise sleepover," Jane added, her voice smiling. "He won't suspect a thing. You just come pick him up whenever you need to in the morning."

"Thank you," she breathed a sigh of relief. "Bye, Mum."

Once she hung up the phone, Hermione dialed the Met, asking for someone to come to her flat. It was less than ten minutes before she heard a knock on the door. She welcomed Sergeant Brown into her flat, gesturing to the still-sleeping form of her ex-husband.

"I don't know how long he's been here," she whispered. "I'm not even quite sure how he found the spare key. I keep it hidden in a safe place."

"Where?" he asked. Hermione pointed to a ceramic frog, whose mouth was usually filled with a sponge, which hid the key from those with criminal intent. Now, of course, the sponge was resting next to the frog, and the key seemed to be missing. She would have to find it later.

"If it's all right, Sergeant Brown," she began, "I'd really like to talk to him for a bit. But he's not very accepting of authority. I can't say for certain he'll even talk to me, but the likelihood of that is far greater than if you were to be there while I tried."

He frowned. "Ma'am, I can't leave you with him—"

"No, that's not what I'm asking," she insisted. "All I'm asking is that you… hide… essentially. Perhaps just in the loo. I'll call for you when I've finished, or if things seem to be taking a turn for the worse, you can jump right in."

Sergeant Brown gave a resigned sigh, and retreated into the loo. The door was open, but Ron would never know of his presence, until he chose to make himself known. Taking a deep breath, Hermione walked up to the lout on the sofa, and prodded his shoulder.

"Ronald, wake up," she snapped.

"Unnng," was his only response.

"Ron!"

At her shout, he started awake, then gave a pained groan, squeezing his eyes shut and putting a hand to his head. "Blimey, my head," he mumbled. "Why d'you have to shout?"

"I'll be asking the questions, Ronald Weasley. What the hell are you doing here?"

"Hello to you, too."

"Bugger off," she snarled. "You have no right to come barging into my flat—breaking and entering, by the way, is against the law—and taking up space on my sofa. You're bloody lucky Caleb is at my mum's house tonight, and won't have to see the pathetic arse that supplied half his DNA!"

Ron frowned at her. "Caleb?"

"Your son," Hermione seethed. "The one you abandoned. Ring any bells?"

He sighed. "Look, Herms—"

"Don't call me that. And don't interrupt. I'm not finished with you." He blinked once, but stayed silent, and Hermione continued. "You're a selfish, low-life pig, and I'm ashamed of you. You'd better hope to hell Caleb never finds out you were here. I don't want you anywhere near him. You made the decision five years ago to remove yourself from his life. You don't get to change your mind. I'll take you to bloody court and sue your arse before I let that happen." She paused, scowling at him. "Now get. Out."

"Hermione—"

"Sergeant!" she yelled, and right on cue, Sergeant Brown appeared. He calmly pulled out a pair of handcuffs and, ignoring Ron's protests, arrested him for the crime of breaking and entering. Hermione slumped onto one of the kitchen chair as soon as they were gone. The tears came unbidden, and didn't stop until she'd crawled into bed, still fully clothed, and fallen asleep.

PRESENT

"Day two," Hermione muttered dryly to herself as she stepped out of the cab, walking purposefully toward the front door. She had learned yesterday not to wear heels, even sensible ones, thanks to the uneven gravel drive in front of the house. Today, her modest flats never once got stuck, nor made her lose her balance. She reached the door without injury to her person or her pride. Before ringing the doorbell, she took a moment to smooth her grey pencil skirt, and checked her hair, which had painstakingly been twisted into a simple knot at the back of her head. She had even taken care to pin back the flyaways that tended to come free within minutes. When she was finally satisfied, she pressed the button, listening to the muted ringing of the bell.

Neville answered with a smile. "Good morning, Hermione! You're here early!"

She heaved a mental sigh as she entered the house; yes, she had arrived absurdly early—5:30 in the morning, to be exact—to ensure that she could speak with Mr. Potter before having to wake the children. She wished it wasn't necessary, but after the events of yesterday… she was concerned about her job. Damn Ron, she thought for the hundredth time in the space of two days.

"Good morning, Neville," she beamed in return. "I know, it's early, but I was wondering if I might have a word with Mr. Potter, before I'm too enthralled with his children."

Neville frowned. "Well, he's probably still asleep, but I can check, just to be sure. If he is asleep, I wouldn't dare wake him up."

Hermione fought back a laugh. "I understand. But I'd appreciate it if you would check."

"Of course," he nodded. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll be back in a moment."

As Neville disappeared up the stairs, Hermione ambled into the living room. It was unnervingly quiet in the house, though it hadn't exactly been noisy before. Apart from the racket of Violet's and Caleb's playtime in the yard, the family and the household seemed almost afraid to make much noise. Pity, she thought, and was just about to hatch a plan to fix that, when she heard footsteps. She turned around to see Mr. Potter enter the room, dressed in attire similar to what he had worn in her interview. The deep burgundy Oxford shirt, paired with creased khakis, made her wonder if the man actually knew how to dress casually. If he knew how to do anything casually. Then again, she supposed casualness was looked down on by the rich and famous.

"Good morning, Ms. Granger," he said with the briefest of smiles, bringing her out of her reverie.

"Good morning, sir," she greeted in kind. "I'd like to speak with you, if I may."

His eyes widened in surprise, but he nodded his consent, and Hermione followed him to what was fast becoming her least favorite room in the house. As she sat in front of his desk yet again, facing her employer, she mentally ran through her piece once again. She had to take care not to say anything wrong, lest it cost her this job.

"I would like you to know that I've arranged for my mother to take Caleb to school in the mornings. I will still have to pick him up after, and if it's all right with you, it really would be best for me to bring him here. But if you disapprove, I'll see about making other arrangements."

He seemed taken aback by her formality. Hermione had been practicing it all night, and most of the morning. It was her hope that, the more professional she looked and acted, the more he would trust her, and the less likely he would be to fire her. It was business, after all. The only thing this man wanted from her was for her to complete her job adequately, and if she couldn't do that, she would no longer have a job. Personal feelings and schedules needed to be set aside.

However, it was her turn to be surprised when he said, "Oh, there's no need for that. He's welcome at any time."

Hermione frowned. "Thank you."

"Violet seems particularly fond of him. I don't know that she has very many close friends. I've not heard that she has any problems with her classmates, but she never mentions friends, either. It's good that she has someone, now." His voice trailed off at the end, and his expression grew pensive. Hermione decided this was likely not the best time to mention Violet's friend Susan. It would only make him miserable.

"I'm glad he is welcome," she said, uncertain of how else to respond.

He smiled, and again, it was so fleeting, she almost wondered if she'd imagined it. "I apologize for any offense I might have caused you, Ms. Granger."

The appropriate response would have been, "No offense taken," with a polite, subservient smile. But even with this new businesslike attitude and appearance, Hermione couldn't bring herself to do it. Instead, she offered a tiny, forced smile, and replied simply, "Apology accepted."

Mr. Potter observed her for a moment, and Hermione met his gaze unflinchingly. Those eyes, she mused. So lovely, yet so cold. So full of anguish. Something terrible must have happened. Perhaps it had something to do with his ex-wife. She could certainly empathize. Caleb's deadbeat father hadn't once shown his face since she announced her pregnancy. Until Sunday night, that is… no, don't think about it now. Can't have you blowing up again.

"By the way," Mr. Potter's voice startled her from her train of thought, "you needn't dress and act quite so formally. I'm not going to fire you for wearing trousers."

Hermione couldn't help it; she laughed. The combination of his joke, her surprise that he had made a joke, and the irony that moments ago she'd mentally accused him of being too formal, seemed funnier than it should have been. She laughed long and loud, but managed to stop just before she could embarrass herself. When she met Mr. Potter's eyes again, they were narrowed. At first she worried she had embarrassed herself, but she realized his eyes were curious, rather than disapproving. And then, they were almost searching. It was rather uncomfortable.

"Well, I suppose I ought to go and wake the children," she excused herself. "Thank you, Mr. Potter."

As she stood, he followed suit. He looked as if he were debating with himself for a moment, then he said, "Why don't you call me Harry? Since you'll be getting to know my children so well, I think it's only right that we get to know one another better, as well."

This man was absolutely full of surprises today. She would have to rescind her previous accusations of his stiffness. "In that case, perhaps you can call me Hermione?"

Another smile, and this time, it lingered. "If that's what you wish… Hermione."

Something about the way her name rolled off his tongue, in a rippling baritone, gave her a sudden chill. She didn't like it one bit. Swallowing thickly, Hermione gave a pointed nod, and turned to leave. Perhaps I shouldn't have given him permission to use my first name, she wondered, but it was pointless to worry. It was too late to take the words back now. She supposed she would just have to get used to it. Or ignore it. Either way, it was safer than dwelling on it.

Steeling herself, Hermione made her way up the stairs. Into battle, she thought with a wry smile.

A/N: There have been a number of review about Hermione's attitude. Some have said they are stunned she hasn't already been fired. Others applaud her, and can't wait to see more of her snarky comebacks. Please know that I'm not doing anything lightly here. I have an actual plan with this story, and almost every detail has been meticulously laid out. Some things may change, but there is a method to my madness. I promise. That being said, I do appreciate your opinions and comments. Please review!