The First Solution

She didn't tell Harry, not at first. She simply weeded out the worst of the incompetents, a little at a time.

Because really, mass murder in the Ministry of Magic would defeat the purpose. Hermione had learned enough about being a politician's assistant to realize that one didn't just plunge headlong into tasks in the hopes of accomplishing them as quickly as possible.

Sometimes, Hermione knew, one had to take one's time. And in this case, Hermione could only kill so many people in a single sitting. One was usually her limit.

Being Hermione, of course, she couldn't help keeping notes on the various victims: mostly annotations to the initial report regarding their levels of inefficiency and corruptions. The other notes she took (which she would never show to Harry) were her reflections on taste, consistency and general dining experience.

The summer after the War, Hermione (still human) had ventured to Australia to retrieve her parents. It should have been an unpleasant (or at least difficult) journey. Contrary to all expectations, Hermione's parents were not only pleased to discover they had a grown daughter, but they thought it rather nice that she had come to visit them – as long as she didn't ask them for money and promised an eventual grandchild (or even two).

They were more than a little put out with their daughter for rearranging their memories, but, as Mr Wilkins had said, one couldn't expect to have a witch for a daughter and not have the occasional accident. A few long Discussions about Appropriate Behavior took place, but things were eventually smoothed over.

Hermione had spent several days upon her return to England researching the possible side effects of memory charms and could come up with no reason for her parents to be so cheerful other than sheer dumb luck. Every so often, life is like that.

Anyway, whilst in Australia, Hermione's parents took her on a tour of the wine country, wherein Hermione learned a great deal about texture, body, nose, and other interesting facts about wines and wine tasting.

And those facts came in quite handy when she began her little project to clear the Ministry of its incompetents.

Her initial theory proved quite correct: the more incompetent and slimy the politician, the better he (or in some cases, she) tasted.

Vintage was another interesting factor in Hermione's experiments in tasting. Older victims tended to be mellower in flavor, with a fuller body and more complex texture, whilst younger ones (Ronald, for example) were quite brash and bold. Sometimes, the younger ones (Ronald again), Hermione found quite undrinkable.

Now, I suppose we should stop here and reassure the reader (Hermione insists) that although Hermione might be a vampire, she was not an inhumane vampire. She only weeded out the truly incompetent and nasty ones first. And it was over a period of years. It really wouldn't have done to have a Ministry blood bath, all things considered. So she had started out slowly, and chosen her victims carefully, and over the course of almost six years, had managed to thin the herd of self-important, corrupt bureaucrats quite nicely.

And because Hermione was a thorough vampire, (and, as she's insisted, quite humane) she didn't leave anything to chance. Widows and orphans received generous inheritances courtesy of their deceased relative, sometimes even more than the victim had been worth, and most of the time the bereaved were more relieved than anything else.

Over the course of those six years, there were only two incidents of note.

The first one was, unsurprisingly, her encounter with Ronald.

Now, it must be recorded that Hermione didn't stalk her victims indiscreetly – pouncing on them in dark alleys (well, there was that one time, but over drinks afterwards with Victor, he had explained to her how that sort of thing was so 19th century, and simply wasn't done anymore). More often than not, she called them into a meeting to review their performance or discuss some new project she said Harry wanted them to tackle. Occasionally, she even let them take her out to dinner. Those occasions were only when the bureaucrat in question was either particularly obnoxious or lecherous.

So, back to Ronald. Poor Ronald; he really had it coming, in a way – ever since the nightmare that had been Seventh Year (and possibly before that), he'd become more and more of an utter git. There were many times, both before and after she became a vampire, that Hermione had wished he'd been more as he had been in the first years of their friendship – once he'd stopped calling her names.

Content to ride Harry's robe-tails, he'd been elevated to a fairly lofty position in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, where Hermione and Harry'd lost track of him for a few years. By the time Hermione had made her report, she had discovered some disturbing trends.

Working under Kingsley Shacklebolt, Ronald had set up a rather complicated (almost Slytherin) web of graft and corruption, confiscating the property and finances of convicted and suspected Death Eaters. Most of the money was, of course, supposed to be funneled into the Ministry for distribution to various reconstruction projects. However, under Ronald's guidance, a good percentage of that money was going to line his pockets (and subsidize his numerous extramarital affairs).

Every few months, Ronald would ask Hermione on a date (just as "friends," of course), and Hermione would turn him down flat. However, when his name came up on her List, Hermione agreed to dinner.

It made her a bit sad, really, to have dinner with Ronald, only to have to bite him at the end of it. He had been her friend first, and her first shag, come to think of it – and there had been a point, not that long ago, when Hermione would have thought that they'd get married. But then, the Prewett had started coming out in him, and it all had fizzled. Mostly because Ronald had wanted kids and Hermione didn't and then he'd gone to his mother and Hermione had seen the proverbial writing on the wall.

Unfortunately Ronald hadn't seen it, and the breakup had been prolonged. Which was about the time Hermione started seeing Victor again.

But, as she said to Ronald over drinks, it was nice to sit and reminisce over old school days and what might have been. Ronald, lulled by wine and food, agreed with her, even daring to reach across the table to hold her hand.

"How's Lavender?" Hermione asked, withdrawing the hand.

"Oh, great... she's started collecting art. I think. Or pool-boys, one of the two. We seem to have a new one almost every month. Jolly good idea, installing a Muggle pool. When the kiddies come along, they're going to love it. And Lav does look good in her bikini."

Hermione resisted the urge to gag.

Later on that evening, when she'd finished apologizing to Ronald ("It's not you, it's me, and really, it's for the greater good.") and bitten him ("Ouch! Bloody Hell! Hermione, that hurts! When did you get so kinky?"), Hermione had paused for a moment to reflect, not only on what might have been with Ronald (a narrow escape), but how Lavender was going to be more than fine with her art and pool-boys.

It was quite satisfying, really.

But, of course all good things must come to an end, and after six years of culling the Ministry, Hermione's prospects were looking a bit bleaker. Harry's term as Minister was coming to a successful conclusion, and he was thinking about graduating to a position in the Wizengamot. Hermione had the option, of course, of staying in her current position and maintaining the status of brisk efficiency that had come to characterize the Ministry of Magic in recent years. (It had even been remarked favorably upon by both the Prophet and the Quibbler - although the Quibbler tended to give credit to the removal of the Nargle infestation, more than any efforts by the actual denizens of the Ministry.)

And so it was one dark and stormy night (fittingly enough) when Hermione found herself wandering aimlessly through the Ministry of Magic and into the Department of Mysteries – simply for the fact that she was bored.

Upon entering the Room of the Doors, however, she found somebody who gave her quite a shock.

"Hello, Granger," said the somebody. "I've been waiting for you."