Chapter Text
Hermione glanced at her wrist watch. Half past three o’clock. She had plenty of time to get through the draft legislation that was dropped on her desk during lunch and still make it on time.
“You’ll need to go through it and get your mark ups to the me by tomorrow at noon,” Vivian had said.
Hermione placed her deli sandwich down, frowning. “That’s hardly enough time for a thorough report-“
“We don’t need your inner most thoughts on the matter, Ms. Granger,” she said sharply, looking down through her glasses, “The Chairman has already edited the policy to his liking. You are supposed to-“
“Proofread and fact check, yes I know,” Hermione sighed in defeat.
She flipped through the pages of the bill in annoyance. Acting as no more than a grammar checker was not how she hoped to start her career. The Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures wasn’t particularly hard to get into, especially since three of the full time staff were murdered when Voldemort infiltrated the Ministry. Hermione was offered a position on the spot. She accepted it without hesitation.
Now here she was, in a cramped cubicle and up to her ears in paperwork. She thought she’d atleast see inside the Wizengamot but hadn’t been given clearance since the trial of the Rudolph LeStrange. No, that was for “important personnel” as Vivian had put it.
She flipped through the pages and marked until her fingers cramped. Unable to help herself, she put a few suggestive comments in the margins. They’d likely be ignored but at least she offered.
“All you can do is try, flower.” Her father had said to her countless times as a child.
“Good night, Hermione!” Someone shouted.
She looked up. When had the lights gone out? She held up her wrist and gasped. It was a quarter to six. She would have to arrive early and finish her review in the morning.
“Harry is going to kill me,” she muttered, making her way through the hall to the floo network.
“You’re late!” Ginny shouted.
Hermione squeezed into the booth being occupied by her school friends. “I know. I lost track of time.”
“It was very hard getting tonight on everyone’s calendar.” Padma lectured.
“I’ll get us another round, yeah?” Ron stood up and walked over to the bar.
Hermione was ready to give her friends undivided attention. Padma was right. No matter if she was exhausted, covered in ink, and fighting a headache.
Ron returned with a tray of beers, including one for her. She took a large gulp and sighed.
“Long day at the office?” Harry asked.
She nodded. “Paperwork not nearly as exciting as being an Auror.”
“Well that isn’t-“
“Oi, Harry! We need to tell her about that troll we had to apprehend in the South Valley this week. Reminded us of the one in first year, didn’t it?” Ronald laughed.
She grasped her butterbeer and listened to Ron recount their most recent mission. He always conveniently left out that they were technically still in training and only assisting seasoned Aurors on field work. Hermione didn’t care, though. She was happy that they each found jobs they enjoyed. The war was over and they could finally start living their lives.
“Is that Blaise Zabini?” Ginny whispered suddenly, with one hand on Harry’s shoulder.
They all turned to see Blaise walking in. He kept on right past their table and approached a brunette. She immediately wrapped her around him.
“Like he didn’t even notice us,” Ronald mumbled.
“You reckon he probably doesn’t want to recognize any of us,” Neville laughed.
“Well he wasn’t very well going to give us hugs. We’re common vermin to him.” Ginny snapped.
Blaise Zabini had served only two months in Azkaban before his release. It was ironic that even with the defeat of Voldemort and pureblood extremism, the most well-connected young heirs of several pureblood families managed to escape any real punishments. Hermione remembered marching into Shacklebot’s office after reading the headlines. She demanded to know if he had no longer meant what he promised on his campaign trail about ending blood inequality.
He assured her his values had not changed.
“There was growing pressure to release those underage. Allegations of Imperious curses which, you may know, minors are especially susceptible to. Voldemort is dead and his wand is missing. Rather unfortunate in circumstances like this,” Kingsley explained reluctantly.
Hermione told him she “hoped” he wasn’t becoming cowardly in the face of politics, politely thanked him for the letter of recommendation he gave her, and marched back out of his office.
“How’s wedding planning going, Ginny?” Padma asked.
Ron groaned. Hermione kicked him. “Don’t be an arse, Ron. Your only sister is getting married.”
“To my best friend, yes I know. Mum is talking about the grandkids and I am trying very hard not to puke at the thought of them reproducing.” He shook his head and took another swig of his beer.
Harry’s face turned red and he turned to Ginny, as if he knew she was about to go off.
“You shouldn’t get so worked up about when we’ll be trying for a baby, Ron. We’ve been practicing enough to be-“
“For fucks sake!”
“Ron just-“
“Did you know,” Luna cut in, “that we are one of just five species that use sex for pleasure? Our sex drive is pretty close to hypogriffs.”
He put his hands over his face. Harry looked like he could pass out. While Ginny and Ron bickered, Padma slipped away and returned carrying a large cake with a flustered Seamus trailing behind, candles and a lighter in his hand.
“Happy Birthday, Neville and Harry!”
August had brought an unusual and unbearable heat. Hermione found only shorts and a tank were suitable for tending to the plants on her balcony. Tending was more or less watering them and examining the leaves obsessively for twenty minutes, but she enjoyed it nonetheless. Luna had charmed her soil so that the plants were near indestructible. Hermione was content- she could pretend she had a green thumb and focus on something other than her work.
It only took feeling one drop of sweat down her arm to make her go inside. She conjured lemonade and poured herself a glass before walking over to her desk. Hemione’s flat in muggle London was her pride and joy, next to Crookshanks of course. She had just enough money to purchase it after the war. It was tiny, and leaked if she didn’t reinforce charms before it rained, but it was hers. Harry had offered her whatever she needed from the vault his parents left him but she had declined. She wouldn’t know what to do with access to that much money even if she wanted it. Instead, she saved up for a small place she could afford.
She got through a few pages of notes before she heard the sound of wings. Pug, an oversized brown Owl that frequented the neighborhood, flew onto her window. In his mouth was a letter.
Hermione stood up and crossed the room to Pug. She conjured him a treat and took the letter. Excitement bubbled up as she recognized the sender.
To Ms. Hermione Granger,
You should be pleased to know that a new edition of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find them is now available at Flourish and Botts. The latest publication includes recently recovered correspondence between Mr. Scamander and several colleagues in the field.
I remember your particular interest in this subject, and have placed a copy aside for you.
Regards,
W. Mulch Inglebee
She set the letter on her desk and ran to shower and change before apparating to Hogsmead.
There was a slight breeze in the air that felt wonderful against Hermione’s skin. She truly hated the summer. Two children, likely shopping for their first year at Hogwarts, ran past her laughing with one another. Two years after the war and the majority of the school was to be re-opened for use. McGonagall, now Headmistress, was carefully taking time to create more wards that would protect them should anything happen again. She knew, as well as anyone, that the destruction of Voldemort hadn’t been the end of evil for all eternity. Eventually, a remaining pure blood loyalist or other fanatic would seek power.
Mr. Inglebee, a short, middle aged man with a very kind smile, had a copy of Fantastic Beasts waiting for her, as he promised.
“I am happy I followed my mind and put this aside,” he muttered frantically, “you would not believe how many wee witches and wizards came in here today. I don’t believe we were prepared for the return-to-school traffic. Not at all, I’m afraid.”
Mr. Inglebee was often flustered over the demands of his business, as Hermione quickly realized the first time she met him. Customers like her, who knew exactly what they wanted without fuss, were about the only kinds of customers that did not make him anxious.
“I can imagine it’s quite stressful this time of year. How much do I owe you?”
“Stressful? No not at all. Oh, three galleons,” he responded as he wrapped the book up for her. “I suppose I should hire help. The store is absolutely filthy now. I counted six cobb webs today. Oh, and did I mention the traffic? Children running, the lot of them. Merlin!”
“Right, well… have a good afternoon, Mr. Inglebee. Thank you for keeping this for me.”
Hermione handed him the money and quickly exited the store before he could start fussing about something else.
She tried to recount the mental list of things she needed. “Herbs, parchment, oh- the ink!”
There was only one kind of ink Hermione used at home and it was enchanted to spill clear, saving her time on spell casting to wipe messes. Needless to say, the ink was a saving grace. The only problem was that it was only sold in Knockturn Alley.
She never bothered asking Harry what he was doing in a place frequented by the worst of wizards when he presented the ink as a Christmas gift to her. Part of her realized her best friend no longer feared death, but rather enjoyed flirting with it.
I should wait for him to get me more , she thought at first. She usually wouldn’t go to some of the darker shopping districts without a male counterpart. But, she was completely out of the ink and had proposal letters that needed be drafted the following day. Shaking off her nerves, Hermione went to the Leaky Couldron’s alleyway and tapped her wand.
I’ll just be in and out, she thought to herself confidently.
The first thing that hit Hermione when she stepped through the wall was the smell of tobacco. Looking down, she saw a barley lit cigarette on the ground near her feet. Shaking her head in disgust, she quickly made her way towards the shop she knew the ink was at.
“Lost, love?” A man with dark red eyes approached her.
She pivoted around him without a response and made her way towards a small, empty alley that would give her the quickest short cut and least chance of being mugged or worse. As she made her way toward the alley she heard the sound of two male voices speaking in hushed tones.
“Are you really this incompetent or are your trying to make me angry?” The taller figure hissed.
“N-no, sir.“
“No, you’re not incompetent or no, you’re not trying to make me angry? Which is it?”
Hermione couldn’t place the taller figure’s voice but it was familiar in a way that brought chills down her spine. She couldn’t help but inch closer to look. He was hooded, not giving much away, but perhaps she’d catch a glimpse of his side profile.
“I’ll take the passport now,” the familiar voice said as he snatched an envelope from the other one. “You’ll correct the birth certificates and other documentation we discussed next week. Are we understood?”
I know that voice from somewhere , she thought.
As the figure tucked the documents in his robes, a lock of platinum blonde peaked out from under his hood. Hermione covered her mouth to keep from gasping. She knew then it must have been Lucius Malfoy. Of course it was him, in expensive robes towering over and speaking cruelly to another wizard. He clearly was breaking several rules of his probation. She knew then she needed to leave immediately and report what she had seen.
Just as she began to inch back behind the brick wall to turn around, a small rat scurried by, loudly dragging a tin can with it. The noise carried on through the alleyway. When she looked back up she met a pair of icy, gray eyes. Hermione had been wrong, it wasn’t Lucius.
Draco Malfoy stared at her furiously.