Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the words.

Hi guys! If you review, I will update, but if people don't review, I don't see any point in continuing to update. Why? Because I am incredibly vain and very forgetful and I legit forgot about this story for a long time. Like, I had to re-read it to update it, but I am updating!

Song: "The Atheist Christmas Carol" by Vienna Teng

Monday

Hermione was shouting "Lumos!" and sitting straight-backed in her bed before she even realized that she was awake. Crookshanks looked blearily at her from Ron's side of the bed, giving her one yellow eyed angry glance before shuffling his head back into the mass of his tail. Hermione was gasping in air like it was something she had not tasted in too long, pushing her hair back from her face, feeling it stick to the sweat against her forehead in protest.

It had been a nightmare, a bad one, but she couldn't remember it at all. Hermione Granger, it should be noted, was not used to having dreams of any sort. She reasoned that this was simply a reaction to the increased stressors that were piling on at work, that was all. But all of the logic in the world would not still her racing heart. It had been so real and terrible, whatever it had been, and her eyes were still dissecting the shadows in the corners of the room.

She glanced over at her bedside clock. It was three-fifteen exactly. She sighed and flopped back against the pillows, the wand on her nightstand still bathing the room in bright light. She wasn't tired now, but she knew she should be. She tried laying still for a while, but even after she schooled her breath into long, even inhales and exhales, and even after she recounted all of the goblin rebellions between 1404 and 1822 she was not tired. In fact, if anything, she was more awake now, and it was 3:43, which could almost be seen as a reasonable time to start her day.

She trod barefoot down the hall and took up her normal spot on the couch, a thick tome called The Journey to Independence: A History of American Wizarding open on her lap, trailing her quill bookmark distractedly across her face as her eyes moved across the pages. Crookshanks joined her on the couch an hour later, but she did not look up.

~.~

Despite her early morning, she was still later to the ministry than she would have liked. By the time she floo'd in, the giant clock in the atrium read just after six, which gave her just under three hours until her first meeting. Her feet echoed in the empty chamber as she hurried toward the elevators, but she could already imagine the bustle that would fill it in a few short hours. And by that time, she really ought to have a handle on this.

~.~

She had gotten an owl on Friday afternoon that Dung had been caught shoplifting again and she had spent all weekend talking to ministry officials and shopkeepers and trying to keep him out of prison, which no one, least of all Mundungus, seemed to care about. When she had met with him on Saturday, he had only stared at her with dull eyes and let her shout at him about recidivism and other big words he probably couldn't spell if his life depended on it. She was fairly confident that he had not heard a word that she had been saying. She was at her desk and working before six thirty.

She was so engrossed in writing a plea to the Wizengamot to let Dung off with a warning that she didn't hear the knock at her door and Harry had to call her name twice before she looked up.

"Oh, hello," she said, setting down her quill even though she did not want to stop working. She tried to keep the annoyance out of her voice.

"Ron says that Lavender said that you haven't responded yet," Harry said, cutting straight to the point. She caught herself mid-wince at the name and tried to school her features back into calmness before Harry caught on. If he noticed, he didn't say.

Hermione examined the ink that was stained into her cuticles. "No, I haven't. I've had a very busy weekend, Harry, and-"

"How long does it take to answer a wedding invite, Hermione? For one of your best friends?" Harry cut in, and Hermione was too tired and worried about Mundungus to take much notice. She'd just thought of something she should add to her report and wanted to add it before she forgot the wording that she thought would work best.

"Yes, yes," she said impatiently, and then caught herself at the terseness she heard in her own voice and rubbed her hands across her eyes. "Sorry, Harry. This Dung thing has me all out of sorts."

Harry only nodded in what she assumed was a sympathetic way. "So I'll just respond for you, shall I? Are you bringing a plus-one or no?"

Well, not too sympathetic, then. Hermione scrambled in her brain for a polite way to tell him to mind his own business and leave her alone to work. "Harry," she began, "I am perfectly capable of-"

"Yeah, but you won't," he cut in, grinning victoriously as if he had been preparing for this. Hermione wondered if he had run lines with Ginny, and then she wondered if she really was that predictable.

"Actually, I-"

"So just you, then?"

There was something in the way that Harry said, 'just you' that made Hermione sit up a bit straighter. She could feel her chin lifting in challenge. Sure, she may not look her best today, but she was running on about four hours of sleep, four cups of coffee, and anxiety. That didn't mean that she couldn't get a date for the wedding. She was Hermione Granger! She had Options! She had Prospects! She could Get a Date! "No," she said primly, "as a matter of fact, I will be bringing someone."

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "Will you?" He asked, a grin sliding up his face and a wild look in his eye.

Hermione felt ameliorated by the speed with which this bold-faced lie was accepted. "Yep." She sniffed with more conviction that she felt.

"Who?" He asked eagerly.

Hermione scrambled around in her brain again, trying to fish up a name. "Theodore Knott." She said very clearly. He had worked at the desk next to hers in her old office and he owed her a favor.

"Blimey, Hermione," he said, blinking his bottle green eyes in surprise.

She rolled her own, "You don't need to look so shocked, Harry." She snapped waspishly and, before he could say anything else and blow her cover, she pointed to her door. "I have a meeting in fifteen minutes. You have your answer."

She was already leaned back over her parchment when Harry stood to go. "I'm really glad you're putting things behind you with Ron, Hermione." She didn't look up because she didn't want him to see her wince.

~.~

When Malfoy entered her office at nine o'clock exactly, she gaped at him for a good few seconds. There were dark circles under his eyes and stubble on his cheeks, but his dress was impeccable and his posture was as ramrod straight as it had been in their previous meetings, and so she pushed her initial worry from her mind.

"Good morning," she said evenly, shuffling his file to the top of the pile of parchments on her desk. She had hardly prepared for this. Given the recent issues with Mundungus, she hadn't really had the time to think about Malfoy, she realized with a guilty squirm in her stomach.

He bowed his head once in reply and gazed steadily directly past Hermione's left ear. She glanced over her shoulder to see what it was, but was greeted with only wall.

She cleared her throat when it became apparent that he wasn't going to actually use words. "Ahem. Tom says you're getting on well and I received your owl about the charity dinner, but is three weeks really enough to plan something of this size?"

His eyes snapped to her face for a moment and his left eyebrow quirked, but his face returned to neutral and his gaze slid back to the wall before she could interpret what the microexpression could mean. "Perhaps not."

There was rust in his voice, like he had gotten out of the habit of speaking, which was odd, since he had been fine- if not verbose- last week. "Right," she said slowly, flipping through his chart, "well, just keep me posted on what you want to do with that. I think it's a great idea," she added and again his eyes flickered to her, but his expression remained unreadable.

She was too tired for this today and she had other things to worry about.

"Will that be all?" Malfoy's voice cut through her reverie. He was looking at her now, but his face was like marble- cold and unreadable.

Hermione saw a flicker of the boy from Hogwarts, now, in the dismissal laced in his voice, but she was too tired to particularly care. "Yes." She answered curtly, as eager to have him gone as he seemed to be to leave.

He stood to go, taking his cane in one hand, and that was when she noticed the limp.

"Did something happen?" she asked, fearing a work-related injury and how much paperwork a lawsuit would mean for her.

"I fail to see how that is any of your concern, Granger," he said, his voice as cold as his stare. "Good day." And with that, he limped out of her office.

He had only been in the office for a total of six minutes and was gone before she had answered with proper goodbye, but she did not have the time to worry about this. Hermione shook her head, and resumed her work on the Mundungus case.

~.~

When Hermione arrived at the Three Broomsticks that evening, Ginny was seated at a table close to the bar, three empty shot glasses in front of her. Her head was resting on the table, her long hair falling in an elegant pool around her face so that her bright red ears were the only hint of skin visible above the table.

Hermione caught the bartender's attention and motioned for a butterbeer while holding up one finger.

"Well, good news for Dung," Hermione said briskly, setting her bag on the floor by her feet, "I think they'll let him off with just a warning this time." Hermione allowed her voice to trail into nothing as Ginny lifted her head and looked at her.

"'Lo," she slurred.

"How are you doing?" Hermione asked as delicately as possible, appraising Ginny's booze-blushed face and the unhappy tilt of her mouth.

"Splendid," Ginny slurred, her bright brown eyes wide and skidding over Hermione's face unsteadily, her hands emphatically waving between their faces, "Absolutely excellent."

Hermione nodded and looked around the pub. It was mostly empty tonight, with one elderly wizard curled around a mug at the bar and a group of three portly middle-aged witches huddled together over a table in the back corner. "Ok," she answered slowly, and pulled the empty shot glasses further from Ginny's still-moving hands. "So, why the drinks?"

Ginny huffed and rolled her eyes, "Harry," she said, as though this were all the explanation anyone needed.

"Ah," said Hermione, figuring that it would be better to pretend to understand than to make Ginny explain. Maybe there wasn't a reason- Harry could be remarkably dense at times, and it would not be the first time that Ginny was upset over something that he absolutely hadn't noticed.

"He's got a new case," Ginny made a sour face.

Now Hermione understood, and she patted Ginny's hand delicately. "I'm sure it won't last for too long," she said bracingly. This was probably true- Harry was still trying to save the world, one criminal at a time, and so when he was actively on a case, he did very little besides hunt for the perpetrator, which meant that his cases didn't normally drag on for very long. Of course, this also meant that no one, not Ginny, Hermione, or the sun, saw Harry much until the case was concluded.

"It's very important, whatever this case is, but he's out of town now," the redhead continued, "and we haven't spoken in anything but owls since Friday!" The sentence came out of her mouth as though she had been bottling it up since then, and spilled onto the table like a dirty secret.

Hermione wasn't sure how to answer this. "Harry is-" she began delicately.

"Oh, I know how he is and I know how important this probably is, but it's so ruddy lonely in that blasted apartment without him," Ginny sighed at the table, "I've been here since four, you know."

Hermione did not say that at least she had someone who cared if she came home at night, or at least she got to owl with someone who loved her. There would be no merit in saying those things. It would not make either of them feel any less self-pitying. Instead, Hermione glanced from the empty shot glasses to the clock on the wall. It was after eight. Had she been drinking the entire time?

"Oh, Ginny," she sighed, shaking her head, and tried for a change of subject, "got out of practice early, then?"

"We had a game yesterday, so no practice at all."

"Ah," Hermione answered, feeling a bit guilty that she had missed yet another of Ginny's games. The bartender, Grayson, plunked the mug of butterbeer down on the table so suddenly Hermione jumped.

Ginny eyed the drink reproachfully. "That's not alcoholic," she accused.

Hermione nodded and took a sip of her drink, willing her heartbeat to slow. She shouldn't have had that fifth cup of coffee. "I've had a long day," she said by way of explanation.

"That's the perfect time to get a strong drink! With alcohol in it!" Ginny said, waving her hands again.

Hermione shook her head, her hair brushing against her face as she did so, "No, I've got to go back to work after this, and I don't want to splinch myself apparating drunk."

Ginny wrinkled her nose at the mental image this statement provided, but didn't press the issue any further.

"So tell me about how things are going for the wedding," Hermione said instead, trying to keep the subject to something closer to neutral that Ginny could complain about, and she was hoping that Ginny would tell her something awful about Lavender. Not, of course, that Hermione was petty or vindictive like that, but she had been having an awfully long day, and she could really use the cheering up.

Tuesday

Hermione knocked on the office doorframe and smiled down at the wizard behind the desk.

"Oh, Hermione," he said, looking up and removing his reading glasses, and standing to shake her hand. "Nice to see you."

Theodore Knott was the only twenty year old, magical or muggle, Hermione knew who wore reading glasses.

"Hello, Teddy," she said, smiling up at him and gripping his hand firmly.

His eyes narrowed. "What do you want," he asked slowly, withdrawing his hand and taking a step back from her.

She blinked her eyes rapidly. "What makes you think I want anything, Teddy?"

"Whenever you call me that, it's because you want something. What is it? I'm not saying I won't do it, but I want to know what it is."

She huffed loudly. "Do you remember that time that I bailed you out with the goblin liaison office?" She reminded him, examining her wand delicately.

"Yes," he replied slowly, taking another step back. It had been a big deal when he had gotten himself in over his head, and his job and- more importantly- his gringotts account were on the line. He owed her something big for that one, and he was worried about what sort of favor she was trying to cash it in for now.

"Ron's getting married, you know," she tried to keep her voice light, and tried to keep her bitterness as smothered as possible.

"Yes," he said again, even slower.

"Fancy going to a wedding, Teddy?" She asked lightly, trying not to make the request sound too important.

"Weasley's wedding?" Teddy clarified.

Hermione nodded.

"With you?"

"Not as a date or anything," she clarified, rushing her words out before he got the wrong idea. It wasn't that Teddy was a bad bloke, or even unattractive, but she didn't want to make relations with her ex coworker any more awkward than they had been since her transfer.

He let out a breath she hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Of course not," he replied quickly, blinking down at her and clearly surprised by even the idea of it. "When is it?"

"Saturday after next," Hermione said, hoping that this could be all set up before the end of her lunch break.

Teddy went around to the other side of his desk to check his planner. His eyebrows knit together. "Oh, sorry," he mumbled, and Hermione's heart sank.

"I've got a meeting in Belgium that weekend. I'm getting inducted into the Western European Division of the Dragon International Group on Saturday."

"Wow," Hermione said, blinking rapidly. Theodore Knott had been working with dragon conservation groups for the past two years, and an induction into WEDDING meant that the world was starting to recognize the long hours that Knott had been putting in. "That's great, Knott. Really great!" She tried to be happy for him, she really did. "You've earned this. You should be very proud of yourself."

He bowed his head in gratitude, a light blush staining his cheeks as he smiled sheepishly up at her from under his eyelashes. "Thanks, Hermione. I could ask around for a date for you, if you want," he offered.

Hermione winced despite herself. Knott had been one of her closest allies in this department while she had worked here, and during the final breakup with Ron, she was fairly sure that she wouldn't have managed to keep her job without him. They were friends, almost, but not so close that she was willing to trust him to set her up on a blind date. "I'll be fine, Knott. Really. I'm not so desperate that I want other people to start trying to get a date for me."

Knott shrugged again, closing up his agenda, "Suit yourself, Hermione," he said. "I-"

"Anyway, I'll see you around," she rushed out, eager to leave the office before the conversation could get any more awkward, "I've got to nip by the department of mysteries before lunch," she shot out, "Bye." And she was striding back down the hall, trying very hard to think of someone to take as a date to this blasted wedding and wondering exactly when she should start pretending to have come down with the flu to skive out of it at the last minute.