Okay, so this is my first story. And by story, I mean not a one-shot. The first chapter doesn't make it sound so great, but I promise that it will get better! The rating may change in the future, but I haven't decided yet. We'll just see how it goes. As always, reviews are greatly appreciated. Let me know how it is and thank you for reading!

P.S. Unfortunately, I do not own Harry Potter or the characters in it. That all belongs to JK Rowling.

9th May 1998

It had been exactly seven days since the Battle of Hogwarts. Exactly one week since Harry Potter had courageously triumphed over the Dark Lord and his followers once and for all. At the news of Voldemort's defeat, the immediate reaction of wizarding Britain was to celebrate relentlessly until you could not remember your own name, let alone why you were celebrating in the first place. And the majority of the wizarding community did just that. Throughout the country, in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade alike, the streets bristled with the long awaited relief they had been craving since the rise of He Who Must Not Be Named all those years ago.

After a week, now that the initial excitement had died away, everybody began to busy themselves with rebuilding their broken society. Although Voldemort had perished and his followers quickly caught and captured, they had not failed to leave death and destruction in their wake. With the Minister for Magic dead, Kingsley Shacklebolt had gladly stepped up to the job and was openly welcomed by the survivors of the terrible war. Within three days of the Battle, the British Ministry had been brought back to life. Out was the sickeningly degrading Magic is Might monument, and in was the replacement Fountain of Magical Brethren, just as everyone remembered. It was unbeknownst to Hermione Granger what magic had been used, but the walls alone seemed to gleam with renewed freedom, every crack in the floorboards seemed to smile up at her as she walked through the Atrium towards the Minister for Magic's office.

Now, Hermione Granger had always prided herself in the fact that she was unlike most of her peers. Throughout her Hogwarts years she had sworn to leave school with the intention to go off and travel the world, alone or with friends, it did not matter. She wanted to be free of buildings and structures and schedules. What she most desired was to expand on S.P.E.W., to save house elves lives and give them freedom. To make the wizarding world a better place for them to live, to co-exist with magical folk such as herself. So, how did Hermione Granger, unsung heroine of the second wizarding war, end up walking through the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic just seven days after the war?

There were rumours, of course, that Hermione Granger had simply followed the lead of her best friends into a Ministry based career. Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley were, as was to be expected after the events of the war, famous amongst the magical community, more so now than ever before in Harry's case. Mere hours after the climatic showdown between Harry and Voldemort, he and Ron had been directly offered places at the Ministry as Auror's, no training required, by Shacklebolt himself. They had both accepted without a moments hesitation. And there had been offers for Hermione too, ones that she had declined and shook her head politely at, wishing her life to take a different path than that of her friends and comrades.

However, one week after the war had ended, Hermione Granger could be found knocking on the door and waiting patiently outside the Minister for Magic's office with her head held high as she forced herself to ignore the questioning stares; not because of her peers, but because of guilt. Hermione felt guilty. She had seen the state that wizarding Britain had been left in following Voldemort's reign and, forgetting any ideas she may have had of packing a bag and leaving the country, she wanted to help. It was as simple as that. Hermione Granger wanted to help.

She didn't have to wait long until the polished, oak in front of her opened up to the weary, yet friendly looking face of Kingsley Shacklebolt. She had made an appointment to see him some days ago, as he was quite obviously a very busy man given the current situation, with no time for drop-by-stops and dilly-dallying conversation. He smiled kindly at her.

"Miss Granger," He stepped back to allow Hermione to enter his office, offering her a seat at his desk, himself taking the one opposite. "Always a pleasure."

Hermione had never seen the Minister for Magic's office for herself, though she had heard stories of its grandeur. It certainly lived up to its reputation. The room was circular, much like the headmaster's office at Hogwarts, and filled with every magical artefact she could possibly imagine. The walls were lined with endless bookshelves that she yearned to walk over to and touch. There were no windows, but the room seemed to radiate its own sunlight. It was warm and smelt of pine trees and oranges, dust and old books and Hermione was sure that she could spend the rest of her life there quite happily. Shaking herself out of her dazed state, she turned to the man looking at her with a curious gaze.

"Minister-"

"Please, call me Kingsley. I think it's a little late for formalities, don't you?" He chuckled.

"Of course." Hermione smiled. "Kingsley. I'm here to inquire about the offer you made me prior to our last meeting. To help out here at the Ministry. I assure you, I'm perfectly capable of any jobs you may want me to take up and you will not be disappointed in me. I-I just want to help... In any way that I can, I suppose."

Shacklebolt leaned forwards, resting his elbows upon his desk and Hermione wasn't sure whether to recoil or feel beckoned by the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He reminded her ever so much of the late Albus Dumbledore. Hermione began to fidget nervously, wringing her hands and taking her bottom lip between her teeth as he seemed to contemplate her words.

"I'm extremely grateful for any help I am given here at the Ministry, Miss Granger. As I am sure you are well aware, we are all very busy attempting to rebuild the Ministry of Magic after the corruption that Voldemort has caused. However, I'm afraid the post I offered to you at our last meeting has been filled by none other than a Miss Padma Patil."

His lips seem to twitch into something akin to a smirk as he saw the disappointment etched within the young girl's features.

"Although, there is an opening in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement which I desperately need to fill."

At once, Hermione's face lit up eagerly as she beamed at the man across from her in thankfulness.

"Anything. I'll take anything that could help you."

"Excellent!" Shacklebolt clapped his hands together once, then stood from the desk to grab a rather thick file from the shelf placed directly behind his seat. "It can prove to be a rather difficult career, working in Magical Law Enforcement, but I have no doubts that you will flourish, my dear.

"Now, the opening I have is for a probation officer of sorts. You will be assigned persons of which you will observe and record as evidence that they are carrying through their given sentence. You may be asked to spend a rather long period of time in the presence of such a person to assure the Ministry that they are abiding their sentence fully. It consists of a lot of documentation and many hours labour, but the salary is good."

"I'll take it, right now. Just tell me where to sign and I'll do it." Hermione nodded in encouragement.

Shacklebolt eyed her curiously. "My dear, do you not wish to read the file before proceeding? I can guarantee you that there is a lot more to this job than meets the keenest of eyes, such as yours. I can allow you some time to get your priorities in order and prepare yourself to start at a later date, if you so desire."

"I want to do this, I'm sure. I'm absolutely positive. I'll do anything you want me to do and you know that I'm capable. I'll start as soon as I possibly can. I just want to help. I can't even begin to imagine the stress that you're enduring yourself given the circumstances." Hermione reassured.

"Well, if you're absolutely sure, then I can have you start by tomorrow morning. There are a few papers to sign, as is to be expected from these things. But, if you're keen, I see no problems in having you sat behind a desk by 9 o'clock tomorrow."

Eager as she was, within the hour Hermione had signed the necessary documents and they were safely filed away. Hermione Granger was working for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry of Magic, 9am – 5pm, Monday to Friday. Hermione was sure that it was only temporary, just until the worse of the aftermath was over and the wizarding world became settled once again, then she could pack up her bags and travel the world if she really wanted to. For now, however, she was to stay here with her friends and the people she cared about and help out in the best way she could.

10th May 1998

The next morning Hermione woke early. Throwing the white covers from her body, she jumped out of bed and made her way to the kitchenette in the corner of the living area. Her flat was cramped and laden with cardboard boxes as she had only moved in two days previous.

Her flat was another, albeit minor, reason as to why she was now employed at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry. Her parents were currently in Australia, completely oblivious as to their daughter's existence and Hermione presumed they had sold her childhood home the day they had left. Not wanting to intrude on the Burrow – Mrs Weasley had, without a moments hesitation, offered her a home with the Weasley's – Hermione had taken it upon herself to find a home. The flat was small, with only one bedroom and the rent was as cheap as it could be; however she was still only 18 years old and desperately needed to find a way to earn a living if she wanted to keep her new home without being lowered to selling her war story to the press.

Reaching into the back of her fridge, Hermione managed to pull out an egg, some ham and half a pint of milk. Making an internal note to have a trip to the local shops as soon as possible, she began to search through the box labelled 'kitchen' to find herself a frying pan and glass. Ten minutes later, she had managed to scrape together a ham omelette and a mug of milk (it seemed any glasses she owned had temporarily disappeared).

Picking up a copy of the Daily Prophet, Hermione's attention was captured by the heading on the front page; Death Eater Trials to Take Their Toll on the Ministry. Ah, yes. Today was the day the trials were scheduled to start. Hermione supposed that it was natural to be nervous on her first day at the office, so to speak, however the prospect of dealing with Voldemort's ex-followers was a stomach churning task even for the strongest of wills. She would not be surprised if Shacklebolt had a job lined up for her right this minute since trials had begun at 5 o'clock that morning.

Breakfast, read a chapter of her book, shower and dressed; that was Hermione's plan for the morning. She was ready in record time, but it was good to be early for your first day at work, wasn't it? Shacklebolt had taken the liberty to connect her fireplace up to the floo network so that she was able to travel to and from the Ministry easily. It now took her all of 30 seconds to get to work from her little flat on the outskirts of Hogsmeade.

When she arrived, the Atrium was bustling with witches and wizards clad in professional looking work robes and carrying brief cases. Hermione immediately began to question her decision to wear muggle attire - a white blouse and pencil skirt with a pair of sensible black heels. Though the black outdoor robe she wore over the top made up for it, she supposed, so long as she didn't get too warm.

She was already aware of where she was to work. Shacklebolt had referred her to the head of department, Aaron Fletcher, straight after the paperwork had been signed and he had seemed like a good man. He had been in Ravenclaw at Hogwarts and had left when she was still in fourth year. He had shown her around their floor, where her office was located and what tasks she would be in charge of. Her office was, like her flat, rather cramped, although she could certainly make it cosy with a sticking charm and a few photographs.

Hermione could feel the butterflies rise up in her stomach as she squeezed her way into a crowded lift, smiling at a small, balding man stood to her left. It was almost like a countdown, she surmised, coming to a halt at each floor only to find out it wasn't hers and yet getting nearer at every stop. Department of International Magical Cooperation, Department of Magical Games and Sports, Wizarding Examinations Authority, it seemed endless to her as she watched people leave and enter the lift.

Her heart seemed to stutter when she heard the voice call the name of her department. She quickly stepped into the corridor lined with closed doors lest the lift take her to another level and she miss her stop. Her office was the thirteenth door on the right and she nervously made her way towards it, only to be stopped by somebody calling her name from behind her and footsteps heading her way. She turned to see Aaron Fletcher running up to her, his sandy hair sticking up at awkward angles and his blue eyes wide with panic.

"Hermione-" He panted. "I'm so glad you're here! Shacklebolt has sent one hell of a lot of files down here this morning. From the court cases, you know? I just wanted to pre-warn you. It's going to be a long day. You know what to do with them, right? I mean there'll be notes and messages inside them from Shacklebolt, but you have a general idea from what I told you yesterday, don't you?"

"Yes, yes, thank you, I'm sure that you covered everything I could possibly need to know yesterday. I'll be fine, really!" Hermione was taken aback by the sudden information, but replied confidently nonetheless.

"If you're sure. I mean, you know where my office is, so if you should need any help, you know where to find me." Fletcher assured her.

"Thank you, Mr Fletcher."

"Please, call me Fletch. Though I'm sure you'll have more names for me by the end of the week." He grinned.

"Is that a promise?" Hermione laughed.

"It's a guarantee." He chuckled with her. "Look, just don't hesitate to come looking for me if you need anything, okay? And good luck!"

Hermione thanked him again and he hurried off back to his office as she began to make her way towards her own, noticing that the corridor was fast beginning to fill up.

Glancing towards the mountain of brown files on her desk, Hermione concluded that, yes, it was most definitely warm down here. Throwing her outdoor robe onto the hook at the back of the door, no longer caring about her muggle clothing, she made her way to the desk, sat down on the swivel chair provided and shakily reached out to take the top file. Alecto Carrow was the name scrawled across the top of the first page, accused of general assault and repeated use of the Cruciatus curse. Evidence of being willingly branded with the Dark Mark. Trial beginning 10th May 1998, 5.05am, Courtroom 7. Underneath this was a clear space titled 'sentence issued by the Wizengamot of the British Ministry of Magic in the presence of the accused' and a sheet of notes in Shacklebolt's signature handwriting containing, what looked to Hermione like, the result of Carrow's trial that morning – 3 years in Azkaban and 9 years magical probation.

Hermione set to work on her given task, scrawling in all the necessary information that Shacklebolt had provided her with and making sure that the file was up to date and documented. Of course, her main job was to keep these files up to date for as long as the sentence was being served. In this case, Hermione would have to collect Carrow's reports from Azkaban once a month, assess them, make sure that Shacklebolt received them and file them. And if Carrow didn't stick to the magical probation sentenced after release from Azkaban, it was up to Hermione to sort it out.

She had been sifting through reports and files for a good two hours when Hermione came across it. Most of the files had been similar in content; names, trial dates to be documented and in the most recent files which filtered into her possession every hour or so, punishments that the ex-Death Eater's had been sentenced to in today's trials. Although Hermione had recognised a few of the names she had come across, Bellatrix Lestrange and Antonin Dolohov as clear examples, this name stood out much clearer than the rest.

Draco Lucius Malfoy, read the file, accused of cursing dark magical objects with the intention to kill Albus Dumbledore and causing evident bodily harm to Katie Bell and Ronald Weasley whilst attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Evidence of unwillingly accepting the Dark Mark and aiding Death Eater's entry of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Failed to complete tasks assigned under Voldemort's orders. Trial beginning 11th May 1998, 10.00am, Courtroom 12. Hermione was taken aback by this new information. It seemed that she would be in charge of Draco Malfoy for as long as he was serving whatever sentence he was given tomorrow morning. She was unsure how this thought made her feel. The boy had terrorized her and her friends whilst they were at school together and showed no signs of compassion within the time she had known him. She supposed that whatever did happen tomorrow he had had coming to him.

Though, he had looked utterly defeated throughout sixth year. She had noticed almost instantly the difference in her sworn enemy. He'd looked almost ill. Surely he hadn't been enjoying the task he was ordered to complete. Hermione decided that it didn't matter. Why did she care about what happened to the boy that had called her Mudblood and made her feel so worthless all them years ago? No, so long as she didn't have to face the arrogant ferret directly, Hermione decided that she couldn't care less about what happened to him. After all, justice was justice. Right?