Two full days at the Ministry where, oddly, no one seemed to be outwardly bothered by her long absence, put a strain on Hermione that she hadn't been expecting when she took a floo trip back to her home in Hogsmeade. Perhaps they were all too afraid to ask her too many questions. She was woefully out of practice for the life that she used to have before she ran off as a fugitive. The sheer exhaustion of simply spending most of the day in the same room with Rabastan Lestrange was difficult enough, but sitting still long enough to pore over the numerous files that had accumulated in their division in the year that she was gone threatened to damage her brain permanently. How was it possible that she used to not only endure, but enjoy sixty, seventy hour work-weeks in her former life?