On a Monday between Christmas and New Year's Day, Hermione was sitting in her office working on her Apparition project when a scroll appeared, dropped on to her desk, and unfurled itself. Please come to Basra's office right now. Hermione frowned at the scroll which rolled itself back up and disappeared. Sighing, she got up and started down the hall. Thomas was still in Tibet. Without him around, the other Unspeakables seemed intent on summoning her to meetings and demonstrations as often as possible. She couldn't tell if they felt the need to fill in as her partner of if they were just needling her. As the two youngest, she and Thomas had been expected to help each other as much as possible, but Thomas was a decade older and had taken a long sabbatical after one of his projects fell apart.

Straightening her robes, Hermione knocked lightly on Basra's office door, which swung open. Hermione stepped inside the dark chamber. Basra's office gave her the creeps. Jars of glowing fungi lined one wall and odd noises came from dark corners, of which there were many. It was clear the room wasn't square, but its actual shape wasn't discernible. She resisted the urge to say Lumos and light her wand. Thomas had warned her early on not to do that. It was considered a sign of fear and would earn her endless ribbing. Finding Basra's desk was a test. Knowing she wouldn't spot it with her eyes, she reached out with her magic instead, feeling for a hot spot in the room that would indicate power. When she'd located it, she stepped gingerly in that direction, testing the floor ahead of her for traps. She couldn't help wondering if he made the old Unspeakables do this nonsense or if his office was just a regular room with a desk when they entered.

When she finally reached the inner office, a candle lit, and Basra and Jones appeared to be having a cup of tea at a small table in the corner.

"Join us," Jones said. Hermione sat down and Basra handed her a cup of tea. "You've been with us some time now so it's time for a performance review."

Hermione sat up straighter. No one had ever mentioned a performance review before.

"Past due, really," Basra added. "Although, you keep producing things, so we've been busy reviewing all that." He said 'producing' as though it were distasteful.

Hermione wasn't sure how to respond so she said nothing. When she'd first gotten the job, Thomas had told her not to speak unless she was certain of what to say or asked a direct question. Listening, he'd told her, would take her far in this job, and it had proven to be good advice, so she held her tongue. She thought a slight smile passed Jones' lips but couldn't be certain.

After a long moment of silence, Basra cleared his throat. Hermione took a sip of tea and waited. Finally, he let out a soft snort. "You have produced some clever items in your time with us, however, we have concerns that you are too focused on function and ignoring theory. You don't work for R&D. You're an Unspeakable, and yet, people are continuously talking about your work." Hermione clenched her teeth to keep from speaking. "Your thinking is too concrete. You are very young. You should be exploring magic. Let your mind free, indulge in flights of fancy. Don't worry so much about the end result."

"Are you trying to say you're canceling my Apparition project?" Hermione asked bluntly.

"Not at all," Jones corrected. "But we are concerned that your focus has been solely in that direction."

"You want me unfocused?" Hermione asked, frowning.

"We want you free," Basra said. "You are brilliant, to be sure, but you will stunt your magical growth if you don't learn to untether your mind from your day-to-day existence."

Hermione wanted to laugh. Never in her life had she felt as untethered as she had for the last two years. If she was any more untethered, she might not exist at all.

"I blame the war," Basra continued.

"Basra," Jones chided.

"I do," he said. "She likely had to remain grounded and focused on their efforts to destroy the Riddle boy. It's left her far too task oriented."

Hermione was irritated to be talked about as though she weren't sitting there.

Basra turned to her. "We're putting your Apparition project on indefinite hold. Take some time off. Go and loosen up your thinking. Let your mind wander free. Dip into the river of magic, Hermione, see where it takes you."

Hermione was somewhat surprised to realize she was standing. She wanted to scream, but instead she turned around and walked out of the office into the inky blackness of the antechamber. She didn't need to reach out with her magic since it was furiously pulsing around her. She walked straight to the door and out into the hallway. She didn't bother stopping at her office and walked to the elevators and then out into London.

xXx

Basra looked at Jones. "I think that went well."

"You're an idiot," Jones said dismissively. "Did you hear nothing I said earlier about being gentle with her?"

"Nonsense," Basra said. "Didn't you feel the magic pulsing around her? We'll break down those barriers yet."

Jones stood abruptly. "I think she's been broken down quite enough. Do you never read the paper?"

Basra snorted. "Why would I? It's just garbage."

"Yes, and some of that garbage is written about her. Not to mention, it keeps you in touch with what goes on outside these walls."

"Perhaps that's her problem then," Basra said. "She is too involved in the outside world."

Jones frowned at him. "And you aren't involved enough."

He waved her away. "What would you know?"

"I know you're an ass," Jones said, before turning and marching out of his office.

xXx

Hermione chose to walk all the way home from the Ministry. When she'd started out there had been a light mist but it built into a real rain as she walked. She could have Apparated right into the flat, of course, but needed the walk to clear her head. Basra's comment to loosen up cut through her like a knife. Ron, toward the end of their relationship, was always chiding her to loosen up, so the phrase always got her back up. She wanted to punch Basra in the nose. She took a deep breath and wiped the rain off her face. She glanced down and realized she was soaked through. A chill ran through her. She still had three blocks to go before she reached Viktor's place. Sighing, she drew her wand and Apparated.

Viktor had chosen to spend the last couple of days of 2001 in Bulgaria in an attempt to reconcile with his parents. While they hadn't exactly been warm to Hermione at Todor and Pietra's wedding, they weren't horrible, so Viktor thought he would capitalize on that good experience and spend some time with them before the New Year. Neither of them had felt like her attendance was a good idea, so she was on her own.

Hermione changed into some dry clothes and looked around the flat as she walked to the kitchen. She noted, not for the first time, how little of her was reflected in the décor. Her Pensieve stood in a corner of Viktor's office next to the potion cabinet, which was full of her equipment and potions mostly made by her. Two sections of the bookshelves in the living room were her books, but they were separate from Viktor's, not intermingled, as if both of them understood that eventually she would pack them up and take them somewhere else. She sighed at the grimness of that. More books and her clothes in the bedroom and a few toiletries in the bathroom were the sum total of her contribution. She would be more upset if she'd ever suggested anything Viktor had declined, but the truth was, she never thought about it. Perhaps, even here, she was too pragmatic. She shook her head and poured herself a glass of wine. She wondered how she was supposed to go about indulging in flights of fancy. She wasn't even sure what that meant. Frustrated, she went out on to the balcony and cast an umbrella charm, so she could take in the evening air. Maybe she should go to an art museum, or perhaps some galleries would be better. Maybe she should look for an inspiring painting to buy. Buying art seemed indulgent.

She let out an annoyed snort and took a sip of wine. Her creativity had always revolved around problem solving. Basra seemed to expect her to rewire her brain and become a completely different person. That was absurd. A sinking sensation came over her. Hadn't she planned much the same thing? To become someone entirely new, to throw off her past and live completely in the now. She shook her head. And now they were telling her the same thing at work. She sighed again. Clearly, she needed a change. After all, work was the one place she felt like herself and now they were questioning her abilities.

There was a knock on the door.

Hermione felt a chill run down her spine. She loathed unexpected visits. They were never good. She finished the wine and set the glass on the counter on the way to answer the door, dreading every step. She looked through the peephole. Jones was standing in the hallway.

"Good evening," the older woman said when Hermione opened the door. "I hope you don't mind the intrusion, but I wanted to speak to you outside of the office."

"Oh. Come in. Have a seat. Would you like a glass of wine or pumpkin juice?" Hermione asked as she ushered Jones into Viktor's living room.

"Wine would be nice. Red if you have it."

"We do," Hermione said, getting a fresh glass for Jones and refilling her own. She went around the counter that separated the kitchen and living room and handed Jones the drink.

"Thank you."

"Of course," Hermione said. Jones had chosen to sit on the sofa, so Hermione took one of the purple velvet chairs across from her.

"I apologize for that meeting with Basra. He means well, but he can be a well-intentioned ass sometimes."

Hermione smiled tightly.

"Please don't think that we haven't been impressed with your work, because we have."

"Thank you," Hermione said.

"And you do think creatively, but the concern is that you think a bit like an engineer, and we'd like you to explore your art more than your craft at this stage of your career."

Hermione twisted the wine glass between her hands. "I'm not sure I can do that."

"I'm not either," Jones said. Hermione looked up in alarm. Would they fire her over this? Was this some sort of threat? Her fears must have shown on her face. "But don't worry about it. No one is going to boot you for how you think. You have an extraordinary mind. No one questions that."

Hermione let out a relieved sigh. "Honestly, I don't even understand what it is I'm meant to be doing?"

Jones raised her eyebrows. "Alright. As an example, I spent my first few years wrestling with whether the other types of love could be bottled as easily as Eros."

"But you don't work in the Love Room," Hermione said.

"I don't now," Jones said.

"Oh," Hermione said.

"The rooms are suggestions, not hard and fast distinctions. You'll likely work in most of them before the end of what I hope is a long and illustrious career. As I understand it, you've been doing a fair amount of research in the Love Room lately."

"Oh, um…" Hermione could feel herself blushing.

"You know the bond is likely some of your problem," Jones said.

Hermione's mouth dropped open. "I…uh…I didn't…"

Jones arched an eyebrow. "You didn't realize it was visible."

"No," Hermione said in a hushed gasp.

"A bond changes the color of the bonded person's aura. Instead of being a single steady color, someone who is bound has an aura that's sort of swirled. There are two types of magic surrounding them: their own and their mate's."

"Ah," Hermione said.

"Don't worry," Jones said. "I'm sure you can see many types of magic, but auras are felt before they're seen. You'll see them in time. You're still, magically speaking, a baby."

Hermione nodded nervously.

"But your aura is…well…instead of being swirled it's…rather like a storm, actually."

"Oh," Hermione said, swallowing hard. This conversation had taken a sudden, uncomfortable turn.

"I fear that you are somewhat trapped inside that storm and it's stifling you."

Hermione didn't know what to say.

Jones cleared her throat. "The thing about being bonded to someone else is that the bond can be a prison or a gateway. It's all in how you use it."

"Use it?" Hermione said. The only way she'd ever used it was to locate Ron.

"Yes. You effectively have access to your mate's magic. You can channel it to places where your magic is weak or missing. If the person you're bonded to is a different sort of creative, you can manipulate the bond to channel that, but you're going to have to stop fighting it to make that happen."

Hermione closed her eyes against the thought. "I'm not sure I can do that."

Jones took a sip of wine and sat quietly for a long moment. "I thought you were Muggleborn," she finally said.

Hermione looked at her. "I am."

Jones frowned. "Then I don't understand how you found yourself in this situation. These days, the only people bonded against their will are pureblood nutters."

Hermione gave her a weak smile. "I wasn't bonded against my will. Quite the opposite actually."

Jones raised her eyebrows. "Then if you no longer wish to be bonded, break it."

"That's rather complicated as well."

Jones cocked her head. "Explain."

Hermione sighed and told her what had happened with Ron after the war.

"Good heavens," Jones said.

"I know," Hermione said, blushing. "What a colossal cockup."

"Impressive though at such a young age. Still, I don't understand why no one told you then what you'd done."

Hermione sighed. "I've thought about that. I don't know for certain, but I suspect the Weasleys explained it to Ron and he was meant to tell me, only he didn't. I think he assumed we'd be married eventually and it wouldn't matter."

"I don't understand why he hasn't come to you to break it since then though. I mean, you're living with Viktor Krum, right?" Jones said, looking at the photo of her and Viktor on the mantel.

"Yes," Hermione said quietly.

"Isn't that…?"

Hermione nodded.

"Then why haven't you sought to break the bond or has he refused you?"

"It's not that. I just…if he wants it broken, he needs to come to me."

"What about what you want?" Jones asked. "This is impeding your development, isn't it? Isn't that reason enough to go to him."

Hermione shook her head. "No. I won't go to him. If he wants a definitive end, he'll need to ask for it."

Jones looked at her for a long moment. "Oh, my girl…"

A tear slipped down Hermione's cheek. "Please don't say it."

Jones sighed. "I'm very sorry."

"Me too," Hermione said, wiping her cheek. "I'll do what I can to, what did Basra call it? Indulge in flights of fancy."

Jones chuckled. "Yes, well… I'm sure you'll do your best."

"I might not come in for a while. I have a lot to sort out," Hermione said.

"Indeed," Jones said, standing. "Well, good luck. I'll see you later."

Hermione nodded and walked her to the door.