~
~
Ron once told her she was like coffee: an acquired taste. The only problem was that her particular blend was strong to point of being off-putting. So much so that very few men were brave enough to try to acquire her. She'd laughed at the time. Now she wasn't so sure Ron's little tidbit of information was funny after all.
Was she really off-putting? She liked to think of herself as no-nonsense, practical, fiercely loyal. Those qualities, which she knew she possessed in generous amounts, enabled her to view herself as noble, but to others she may, she reluctantly admitted to herself, come off as a bitch. Hermione Jane Granger didn't want anyone to see her as a bitch.
Turning over in bed, she looked out of the window. She'd left the window and curtains open, since it was summer, and the full moon was bright, giving off a beautiful glow that highlighted everything in her room in blue. A cool breeze wafted into the room, bringing with it the smell of dew moistened roses from the flowerbed outside her window.
Even as she attempted to clear her busy mind of the plans she'd made for helping out with Ginny and Neville's wedding, which would take place in three days, Hermione tried not to linger too long on the fact that her own bed was empty and cool from the early morning air coming from her window. What she wouldn't give to have someone beside her to warm it.
Just two years ago she would have had Ron beside her as loving company to keep her warm and make her feel safe. Truthfully, she didn't feel as if she were in danger, but there was something comforting about having a lover in bed with you in the wee hours of the morning.
Picking up her wand, Hermione shut the window, blocking the increasingly insistent breeze. She remembered the weather forecast from the Muggle news which told of an approaching rainstorm. She hoped it didn't rain on Ginny and Neville's wedding day. They'd planned an outside ceremony at the Burrow, and she wanted everything to be perfect for Ginny.
Too bad the same couldn't be said for Ron. Hermione wouldn't be surprised if Ron hadn't somehow gotten his hands on an illegal rain-making potion and set it off in the air to force a terrible rain storm on the morning of the wedding. She'd known Ron to be many things, but overprotective was chief among them. She could remember the content of their last conversation.
"They'll be married," Ron said, looking at her as if that explained it all. When Hermione had only looked blankly at him, he'd gone on to elaborate. "Neville will have rights to her then. You know, man rights."
"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Ron!" Hermione had said the stove where she'd been heating water for tea. "They'll be married!"
"I know! I don't want to think of my sister having Neville doing what men do to their wives."
"I don't know what I find more disturbing, Ron. The fact that you still see physical intimacy amongst others as sinful, or the fact that you actually entertain images of your sister in sexual situations."
"Don't use the words 'sexual' and 'your sister' in the same sentence," he said. "And I don't sit around fantasizing about it. I just know what will happen. I tell you, I won't get one wink of sleep that night."
"Honestly, like they haven't already," Hermione said, pouring tea into his cup. Ron had gone pale then.
"You…you think they have?"
"Ron, she's twenty one, he's twenty two. They have needs like anyone else-"
"My little sister does not have needs!"
Ron had put down the scone he was eating then, looking on the verge of illness, and Hermione changed the subject, deciding to write the current one off as a bad job.
Hermione now found her lips curled up in a smile at the memory. Ron could be so ridiculous at times, but that was one of his more endearing qualities, in addition to being smart, loyal, brave, and caring.
Finally, as the digital read-out on her bedside clock passed the two a.m. mark, Hermione slipped into sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~
The following morning brought clouds the color of scrap metal; they rolled along restlessly in the heavens, and cool air replaced the humidity that had turned the village into an inescapable sauna. Rain was inevitable.
Wrestling her frizzy hair into a tight bun as she watched the sky, Hermione thought the day looked like predawn, though it was well past eight in the morning. After putting on cream colored robes with black trim that matched the sleek lines of her dress underneath, Hermione pulled on a pair of stylish open-toed shoes and examined her reflection in the mirror.
She was a blend of natural blessings and curses. She'd been, she mused, cursed with frizzy hair, but blessed with flawless skin. She was shorter than she wanted to be, but she was happy with her figure. She was curvy where a woman should be, though she would never have the long legs Ginny had been blessed with, and she'd never have the silky locks Lavender possessed.
But there was more to a woman than being physically beautiful, and as Hermione grabbed her briefcase, prepared to Apparate to the Ministry and her job on the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad in the Department for Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, she tried to imagine what it was that drew men to women like Ginny, and Lavender, and Luna. She wondered what they had that she didn't.
Ginny was witty, which Hermione could be too, when she so desired. Their other good friend, Luna, seemed a great deal more naïve than she really was. Fleur was sophisticated and sexy. Though Hermione didn't really like the woman all that much, she had to admit that Lavender was vivacious and confident.
With the exception of being vivacious, for she preferred to take more subtle approach to life unless circumstances required otherwise, Hermione believed herself to have all of the qualities her girlfriends possessed in suitable measure. So why was she alone? She had only dated casually since she and Ron called it quits two and a half years before.
It wasn't because she didn't try. She'd tried to make something significant happen with all of her relationships since Ron, but to no avail. She was beginning to view her single status as an affront to her feminine sensibilities. She felt, at times, a failure, and she hated to fail at anything.
At the Apparition point at the Ministry of Magic, Hermione strolled through the crowd of witches and wizards. It was shift change, and those who worked nights were standing bleary eyed and tired at the fires, waiting to Floo out, or hurrying to the Apparition point to Apparate home. Meanwhile equally bleary eyed people entered the Ministry, sipping cups of coffee and tea, and trying to wake up to start their day.
"Miss Granger, you're looking lovely today, as always."
Kevin Kettlebottom fell into step beside her. He worked in the Office of Wizengamot Administration Services. He was a handsome man, tall, with broad shoulders, a muscular physique, a winning smile and an humble personality. He had a mop of unruly blond hair and rich green eyes the color of grass.
Four years her senior, Hermione remembered seeing Kevin around the corridors her first three years at Hogwarts. He and Percy had socialized on occasion, as she remembered, and though he'd been in Slytherin House that hadn't stopped them. He was an oddity to her. He was from a wealthy pureblood family, but he seemed to lack the usual elitist attitude that most purebloods seemed afflicted with.
Most important to note: Kevin was definitely interested in her. He made a point to speak to her, to try to sit with her at lunch, to open doors for her, and pull out her chair. His attentions went beyond mere chivalry. There was a fire in his deep green eyes that only seemed to burn when he looked at her.
"I was hoping we could sit together at lunch this evening," Kevin said, stopping in line beside for the lifts. "The Wizengamot, as you may know, is considering a review of the penalties for parents who allow their underage children to use their wands to do magic during school breaks, especially in regards to accidents caused by these children."
"I've got quarterly reviews today," Hermione said, dreading the day of long, boring meetings which would go over department budgetary concerns and plans for the monthly potlucks their boss, Angelica Pepper was so fond of. "I'll sneak off around one and meet you in the canteen?"
"I was hoping I could convince you to join me at Medora's today," Kevin said hopefully.
"Medora's?" Hermione said, her brows raising. One lunch there and she wouldn't have enough money to cover her rent for two months. "Oh, I don't know, Kevin. I can't really afford-"
"My treat," Kevin said, sparing her the need to explain her monetary situation. "Have you been there? I think you'd like it."
Have I been there? Hermione thought, wondering briefly if perhaps he was teasing her. He had to know she couldn't afford to eat at a restaurant like Medora's. I've been there alright…in my dreams.
"I've only walked past the place," she said. "When I shop for Christmas."
"So, come inside for once. Join me."
"Yes, join him," said a witch just a few years on the other side of middle age. Two of her friends were watching them and nodding in agreement. Hermione found herself laughing and nodding, especially at the open hope in Kevin's face.
"Yes, I'll join you. Though I wish I could dress for the occasion."
"Like I said earlier, you look lovely."
~~~~~~~~~~
The prospect of enjoying lunch at Medora's, with Kevin, distracted Hermione to the point that she took a wrong turn twice on her way to her cubicle, and ended up staring in bewilderment at strangers she mistook to be sitting at her desk. Finally she managed to get to her place and once her umbrella was stowed away, and her reports were stacked neatly on her desk for the quarterlies, which were due to begin in an hour, Hermione ran to the small refreshment table in the rear of the office pool and grabbed a cup of tea.
"Miss Granger!"
Hermione groaned inwardly as she heard Angelica Pepper's feet pound loudly and ungracefully toward her. Fixing a neutral expression on her face, for it was the best she could manage, Hermione turned to face her boss.
"Good morning, Madam Pepper."
"Is it true that you're having lunch with Kevin Kettlebottom at Medora's today?"
Hermione was unable to stop her mouth from falling open. "I'm sorry, how did you hear about that?" And what business is it of yours anyway, she added silently.
"Oh, a friend of a friend told me."
Hermione conjured an image of the three women who'd been in line at the lifts and she sighed inwardly. They'd seemed like such sweet old birds….
"So, it's true then?" Angelica asked.
"Yes."
"This is just the opportunity I've been praying for." Seizing Hermione's arm in a vice-like grip, Angelica steered Hermione the short distance into her office, which was packed full with outdated reports, pictures of family, books that had absolutely no bearing on her job whatsoever, and cups of cold tea and coffee sitting precariously atop mountains of parchment. Hermione was amazed the place wasn't buzzing with flies and crawling with ants.
Shoving Hermione into the seat across from her desk, Angelica rushed around and took her own chair, folding her hands daintily on the sticky surface of her desk.
"What do you mean by opportunity?" Hermione asked, feeling unclean in the chair. She had to consciously work not to feel disgust at the filthy mess around her. How a woman with such as this maintained a managerial position at the Ministry was beyond Hermione.
"I don't know if you keep current with other departments, but the Wizengamot is reconsidering the penalties awarded to parents who allow their children to-"
"Oh, yes, he told me about that," Hermione said, speaking over Madam Pepper. She was determined to get this conversation over with as quickly as possible so she could breathe some air not reeking of month old coffee and mossy scones that had been lost in the mountains of parchment about the office.
"It's obvious the man is quite taken with you," Angelica said. "You could agree to a few more lunches, or even dinner once in awhile. Once he knows you're interested, you could perhaps, if you're so inclined, tell him that it isn't necessary to add prison sentences to the penalties in cases that don't result in death."
Hermione frowned, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. This woman was asking her to use her friendship with Kevin to influence future laws, but she wasn't sure why.
"You don't think it wise to add the threat of prison time for parents who allow their children to break the law?"
Angelica gave Hermione what she must have thought was her most winning smile, but it only served to make her look like a hungry vulture than a friendly co-worker.
"Darling, since your friend Harry Potter defeated You-Know-Who three years ago, the dementors have once again taken charge of Azkaban prison. That is incentive enough to the average citizen to steer clear of any trouble with the Ministry. Almost half of our work load is wrapped up in Accidental Magic performed by underage witches and wizards using their parents' wands to get away with using magic outside of school. If these people have the threat of prison sentences hanging over their heads, they're bound to be much more careful about who has control of their wands. My goodness, the children themselves are likely to start obeying the law."
"But that's what we want, Madam Pepper," Hermione said incredulously. "That's the point of adding a threat of prison."
"Look at it this way, Miss Granger," Angelica said, leaning forward, the smile gone from her face now. "Without work, we would be forced to downsize. If we're forced to downsize…well…those who haven't been with our department long will be the first to go."
In other words, I will be the first to go, Hermione said to herself.
Angelica was threatening to fire her if she didn't find some way to influence Kevin to speak against adding prison terms to parents who were lax in allowing their children to use their wands.
"I see," Hermione said. "I think we understand one another, Madam Pepper."
"Excellent," Angelica said. "You may go."
And you may want to have this office burned to a crisp and redecorated, Hermione thought bitterly as she stood from the chair. Her bottom momentarily fought against leaving the seat, and her robes protested being separated from a sticky substance coating the chair with a loud ripping sound that made Hermione's stomach churn.
Rushing from the office, Hermione hurried to her cubicle where she pulled her wand and conjured a mirror. With that done, she examined a large brown stain on her robes.
"Scourgify, scourgify, scourgify," she said, repeatedly aiming the wand at her robes until they shone bright and clean. She ran her hand over the material to make sure her hand didn't come away sticky. Satisfied, she sat down, hands shaking, and pulled forms out of her inbox. The first report made her smile.
To: Miss H. J. Granger
From: Madam Mafalda Hopkirk
Offender: Cara Leder
Offender's Age: 16
Offenders Address: Number 6 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey
Hermione did a double take at the address. She couldn't believe it. That was right next door to the Dursleys, Harry's anti-magic family!
Date of Offense: 17 June 2002
Details of Offense: Miss Leder (hereafter to be referred to as the Accused) is the daughter of a Muggle and a Witch. The Accused used her mother's wand to charm the door knocker to bite the fingers of one Dudley Dursley whenever he came to call upon her older sister, citing that Mr. Dursley was a 'stupid great git' and that his advances towards her Muggle sister were unwanted and she felt she ought to do something to discourage his advances. The Accused also states that she only charmed the knocker to recognize Mr. Dudley Dursley and his parents, Vernon and Petunia, all three of whom suffered injuries whilst calling at the Leder residence in regards to injuries suffered by their son, Dudley.
Action Taken: Officer Michael Rohr of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad has removed the biting charm from the door knocker and the Dursleys were treated by a trained healer who healed the cuts on their fingers.
Further Actions Requested: Signature of a member of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad is required after a follow-up meeting with the aforementioned officer and Miss Leder's parents, Mr. William and Madam Abigail Leder.
Second Officer's Plan of Action:
Case Resolution:
Hermione would have to visit the Leder house to confirm that the lock was harmless, and then meet with the parents about Miss Leder's behavior before she could sign the document and officially close the case.
After reading four more similar cases that would take up the rest of her work day after lunch, Hermione grabbed her reports and hurried off to the conference room lest she find herself late.
~~~~~~~~~~
Hermione's brain had sunk into a torpid fog as Angelica Pepper's voice droned on through one boring detail after another. She briefly wondered if her eyes looked as glazed as everyone else's, and she also wondered what had happened to her ability to pay attention to dull and un-enjoyable dialogue.
She was, after all, the girl who spent five of her six years at Hogwarts sitting through Professor Binns' boring History of Magic lessons. She had, in her fifth year, paid rapt attention to Dolores Umbridge's informative, if not dull, speech about the Ministry interfering at Hogwarts.
But this was different. This was torture. This was a speech that induced a lethargy so deep and complete that it put everyone in the room in danger of coma. Hermione suspected her lack of ability to pay attention had less to do with the heat of forty three bodies pressed into a small conference room than the fact that the information being given was nearly identical to the meeting given three months ago.
According to Angelica they were spending too much on travel expenses and not enough on office supplies and employee incentives. Call-outs were unacceptably high, and if one expected to be excused from a days work, one had to have an excuse from a qualified healer from either St. Mungo's or from the staff healer here at the Ministry. A better translation of that report was that Angelica was hogging the money for herself and trying to lay the blame on her subordinates.
A gob of drool tickled the corner of Hermione's lip, and dropped, unexpectedly fast, oozing down the side of her chin. Lazily she reached up and wiped it away as she was overcome by a sudden wave of dizziness.
Damn, she thought, I almost fell asleep.
Hermione briefly entertained a fantasy of everyone laughing at her expense had she fallen off of her chair and began snoring on the floor. Then that fantasy slowly shifted to days gone by when she, Ron, and Harry had spent every moment of every day in a fight for their lives, firstly in an effort to destroy Voldemort's Horcruxes, then in the fight to actually get to the cowardly bastard, who'd gone into hiding upon learning Harry had destroyed his precious security blanket by destroying said Horcruxes, and then possibly even greater danger once Voldemort had finally given up the ghost and his Death Eaters, lost in madness already, had come to kill them in retribution.
Now she spent her time undoing people's magical goof-ups and listening to dull reports from a woman that would have been more at home in a pig-pen instead of an office as the head of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes.
"Miss Granger?"
"What?" She said, suddenly alert and feeling her neck and face heat up as she realized that she was drooling again, and everyone in the room was staring at her. Angelica Pepper looked stern.
"I said do you have your report on Occurrences of Underage Magic?" Angelica repeated.
"Oh, right."
Taking out her report, Hermione stood and took the podium. "Madam Pepper," she said in acknowledgement, opening her folder. When she did her stomach sank nearly to her shoes.
The report was actually a grocery list, a healer's appointment for a bi-yearly gynecological exam, an appointment with her parents to get her teeth cleaned, and several bad attempts at a fictitious novel based on her life at Hogwarts with Harry and Ron.
Smiling sweetly at the sea of sleepy faces before her, Hermione shuffled the nonsensical pieces of parchment, pretending they were actually her report. She remembered the report, after all, she'd written it, and in five minutes she'd recited the information, all the while wondering what the hell she'd done with the damned thing.
"Thank you, Miss Granger. I'll expect a copy on my desk forthwith."
Mind racing on what to do, certain that Angelica Pepper didn't have the least bit interest in her appointments or an outline for a novel, Hermione simply blinked. "It'll be tomorrow before I can get it to you."
"Why?"
"I…I have that lunch appointment with Mr. Kettlebottom," she said significantly. "Which I should be leaving for now if I don't want to be late."
Angelica suddenly smiled and winked.
"Tomorrow it is, darling." Turning back to the group she smiled brightly and said rather enthusiastically, "Am I the only one who feels the need for a potluck coming on?"
Hermione thought she heard everyone in the room groan collectively as she left to meet up with Kevin in the atrium.
~~~~~~~~~
Hermione and Kevin Apparated together from the Ministry to the sidewalk in front of Medora's, which was located in Diagon Alley. The rain that Hermione had been expecting arrived almost at the same time they did, coming down in fat drops in a sudden violent downpour.
Hurrying inside, the maitre dhotel greeted Kevin respectfully and without asking for a reservation said "Your usual table, sir?"
"Yes, Reginald, thank you."
Reginald led him through the restaurant, and Hermione had to make a conscious effort to keep her mouth closed. The lighting was pleasantly muted, but not too dark. Each table was lit by a gently floating sphere of crystal filled with golden light. The centerpieces of each table consisted of a bouquet of freshly cut flowers, inhabited by real fairies.
The carpet, a rich maroon in color, was soft and deep, and very springy, almost taking all effort out of the act of walking. The tables were covered in cream colored linen table cloths. The art on the walls were the handiwork of some of the most famous artists in magical history, some dating back to Roman occupation. Classical music of which Hermione was not familiar, obviously from a magical, not Muggle, composer, played softly in the background.
After ordering a fifty-five Galleon bottle of wine, Hermione allowed Kevin to order lunch for her, satisfied with his selection, and finally turned her attention back to him.
"So, has Angelica put you up to trying to cajole me into speaking against a prison sentence for parents whose children use their wands and cause accidents?" Kevin asked, pouring their wine. The bone china, the finest Hermione had ever seen, was magically filled with their selections in moments.
"How did you know?" Hermione asked, amused and surprised at the same time.
"I know her," Kevin said. "What do you think on the matter?"
"First I want to know your stance."
"I think something needs to be done," Kevin said, slicing his Filet Mignon with practiced ease. The knife was so sharp, and the meat so tender, that it fell into neat little succulent slices on his plate, making her hunger grow. "There's been a twenty one percent increase in Magical accidents and catastrophes in the past two years due to parents allowing their children to use their wands during summer vacations and holidays from school. Sometimes these accidents expose our kind to the Muggle world, generating strange stories in their news. Other times it leads to deaths…what?"
He stopped talking, looking at Hermione, who was looking at him with a smile on her face. Hermione believed she had a pretty good feel for people, and this man seemed genuinely concerned about the issue of improper magic amongst underage witches and wizards.
"I agree," she said.
"Did she threaten you?" Kevin asked, after properly swallowing his food.
Now that she'd started eating, Hermione was amazed at the quality of the food and wine. She almost didn't want to stop eating long enough to answer. He had an amused twinkle in his eyes. His lovely green eyes.
Oddly, she found herself suddenly missing Harry.
Putting aside that sudden and inexplicable twinge of loss, Hermione nodded. "She didn't come right out and say anything, but she made it clear that if I didn't convince you to lend your influence against the idea, and our department had to downsize, I'd be the first one to go."
"I see," Kevin said. "I'll recommend against it, of course."
Hermione gulped the wine, which she'd been enjoying with almost sinful delight, a little too hard and a pain shot through her chest. She tried not to cough but she failed.
"Are you alright?" Kevin asked in concern.
"No," she said. "You just told me that you agreed with me, that the law needs to be changed. How could you vote against it?"
"I don't want you to lose your job," he said simply.
There's the Slytherin in him, Hermione thought sadly. I was wondering when it would show. She put her fork down, her appetite ebbing away like a retreating wave on an ocean shore.
"So, you're willing to allow the situation to go unchecked, to allow parents to be lax in wand security, simply because you don't want me to lose my job?"
Hermione could see Kevin's mind racing as he tried to figure out where things had gone so wrong.
"It's only politics, Hermione."
"Tell that to the next child permanently disfigured from a badly done hex. Tell that to the child who accidentally kills another child when he goes too far in a hex."
She set the linen napkin on the table, trying to keep her temper in check.
"Hermione, I didn't mean to anger you."
"You haven't angered me, Kevin. You've disappointed me. If you'll excuse me, I really need to get going. I have four case resolutions to look into before I can go home."
"Of course. I'll see you back to the Ministry."
"Alright."
One of the surprises Hermione had seen was that wizards used credit cards. They were very different from the Muggle ones, made of parchment laminated in a hardening potion, and charmed for a business to deduct the appropriate amount of gold from their Gringotts accounts with a wave of the wand, but it was recognizably the same system of commerce as its Muggle counterpart.
Once they were back at the Ministry, Kevin blocked Hermione's exit from the Apparition point.
"Hermione, I'm sorry," he said, with aching sincerity in his face.
Hermione sighed. She was overreacting, of course, but she couldn't explain to herself why. He'd had her best interests at heart, after all, so what was her problem?
"I'm sorry too, Kevin. I may have overreacted a bit. It's just that there are some things in life more important than a job, or money or…never mind."
"You're absolutely right, and I'm not saying that merely to mollify you, Hermione. I genuinely understand your point of view."
She smiled. "Well, I really do have case resolutions to tend to."
"Perhaps, if you're not too upset, you'll give me another chance? We could meet for lunch again tomorrow."
Hermione tilted her head and examined Kevin. His eyes were so open and honest. Once again that strange pang of loss stabbed at her. She hadn't seen Harry in so long, even though they both worked for the Ministry. They seemed to keep missing one another, drifting apart.
"If my schedule is free, yes. Better…I'm attending the wedding of two dear friends. I would very much enjoy your company since I don't have a date anyway."
"I would be honored, truly," he said with such genuine alacrity that she found herself on the verge of giggling again. She was going mad….She scribbled the Weasley's address down on a spare piece of wrinkled parchment and handed it to him.
"That's where the wedding will be. I'll be there all day, helping out with last minute preparations, but the guests are due to arrive at four. I hope to see you then."
"I will be there with bells on," he said, tucking the scrap of parchment into the breast pocket of his robes. "Figuratively, at any rate."
~~~~~~~~~~
Number Six Privet Drive was situated exactly one door away from the Dursley residence. She hadn't seen the place where Harry had grown up since those few painful weeks she and Ron had come to stay with Harry until his seventeenth birthday. That had been five years before. It was strange how the place looked exactly the same now as it had the day she'd left it.
Hermione wasn't surprised, either, that not only was Dudley Dursley still living at home with his parents, but he'd been so lazy as to turn his attentions on a girl within waddling distance of his front door.
Hermione examined the street. She was receiving odd glances from several of the neighbors who were out and about, mowing their lawns, tending to flower beds partially withered from the heat wave that had been alleviated by the clouds overhead. The rain that had fallen in Diagon Alley had yet to reach Surrey. As she enjoyed a light and cool breeze, she reminded herself that she should have taken her robes off before venturing into a predominantly Muggle neighborhood such as this.
Waving a hand very cautiously over the door knocker, Hermione found it to be harmless, at least to her. She used it to pound three times solidly against the oak door. A few moments later the door opened a girl answered the door, dripping wet and wearing an embarrassingly abbreviated bikini. She had silky blond hair piled atop her head, crystal blue eyes as clear as a cloudless summer sky, and flawless skin. She towered over Hermione, standing at least 70 inches. Hermione suddenly didn't blame Dudley for his infatuation. Any boy would fall in love upon sight of this young woman.
"Hello," she said politely.
"Hello. My name is Hermione Granger. I'm the follow up Officer from the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad."
"Oh, right," the young woman said, nodding. "I was hoping that other bloke would be coming back, even though he said someone else would be verifying his work."
I'll bet, Hermione thought. Mark Rohr was handsome enough to have garnered the attention of many a female staff member in the AMRS.
"Sorry, you're stuck with me. You would be…"
"Belinda Leder," she said, offering a hand. "I'm a Muggle. My step sister Cara is the one who did the wonky trick on the door. Would you like to come in?"
"Yes. Are your parents home?"
"My Stepmum is. I'm visiting from University."
"I see. How old are you?"
"Nineteen. I turn twenty in two weeks. Have a seat. I'll get Abby."
Hermione took a seat in the sitting room. The back door was open on a small back porch. There was an above-ground pool in the back. A few moments later there was a loud crack and a plumpish middle-aged witch with long black hair, streaked with gray, Apparated before Hermione. Belinda came bounding down the stairs a few moments later, shaking her head with a smile.
"I wish I could do that," Belinda said, a hint of jealousy in her voice. "I'll be out back in the pool, Abby. Unless you need me?"
"No," Hermione said. "I just need to speak with Madam Leder."
Belinda shut the door behind her and Abigail Leder pulled her wand, conjuring a tea service and pouring tea for the both of them.
"This is really very embarrassing," Abigail said, after shaking Hermione's hand. "But it seems Cara got one in on me."
"What house is your daughter in?"
"Hufflepuff, as was I," Abigail said. "She begins her sixth term this September. So, what will happen now?"
Hermione was grateful that the woman didn't weave some elaborate tale in an effort to make herself out to be an innocent victim. She merely waited to see what Hermione's judgment would be.
Her mind went to Dudley, and the time Ron had made the mistake of getting into a wrestling match with him for peeping at her while she showered their second night in the house. Dudley knew a little something about wrestling, and he'd nearly caused Ron genuine injury until Harry had hexed him off of Ron. Hermione remembered the look of deep satisfaction on Harry's face as he'd finally gotten to use magic against his cousin.
"Miss Granger?" Abigail said, her tea stopped half way to her lips. "Are you alright?"
"I'm sorry," Hermione said, realizing she'd been staring into space at the memory. "Where is your daughter?"
"Ironing. She's been grounded and made to do the laundry by herself as punishment.
"This is a first offense," Hermione said, "so I'm inclined to impose the minimum punishment of a thirty Galleon fine and a suspension of all magic in the house for two weeks."
"That's the minimum?" said Abigail, looking shocked.
"Be thankful. The Wizengamot is considering legislation to add a mandatory sentence of time served in Azkaban for such an offense, even on a first time basis."
Abigail swallowed hard, her eyes watering from taking down too much tea. "I see. Azkaban. Well, I'm just grateful it hasn't come to that. Shall I give you the gold or…"
"No. You'll need to stop off at the Ministry in London and pay the clerk," said Hermione, pulling out the forms. "You have three days to pay or the sentence doubles. And remember, you may pay in Muggle currency if that's more convenient, but it must be notes, not a cheque."
Once the forms had been signed Hermione stepped outside, looking around the quaint neighborhood to be sure she was alone before Disapparating to the next case resolution, when she heard a voice she'd never imagined she'd hear on Privet drive, that sent her pulse to racing, behind the door of the Dursley house.
"After all those years of treating me like I had the plague, you're trying to play the family card? I don't believe it."
"I didn't treat you like you had the plague! That was Mum and Dad who did that."
"You're right, Dudders. They treated me like I had the plague, you treated me like a punching bag."
"Just one little love potion is all I'm asking for, Harry. I'll even pay you for it."
The door to number four opened and Harry Potter, all six feet two inches of him, stepped out, dressed in full wizard attire with the crest of the Auror department (two wands engaged in battle with electrical magic coursing between the tips) on the breast of his robes, his mop of unruly black hair barely obscuring the scar on his forehead, green eyes partially hidden behind his glasses. He stood out as a wizard on this street full of Muggles as much as she did a witch.
Harry was so engrossed in his argument with his cousin that he didn't even see her standing on the stoop beside him, barely five feet away, but that could have something to do with the snowy white owl sitting on his shoulder, Hedwig the second, daughter of his first owl, who had died by taking an Avada Kedavra curse from a Death Eater in Harry's stead. Harry had worked hard to save Hedwig's clutch from dying off, but only this owl hatched, and she'd come out looking just like Hedwig.
"Besides," Harry said scathingly, "I don't think even a full dose of undiluted Amortentia from concentrate could make a girl like that bat an eyelash at you Big D."
Harry had his back to Dudley, examining the street, so he didn't see the rage pass over his cousin's pudgy face, or see his cousin's ham-sized fist raise to strike, but Hermione did. She had her wand raised in the blink of an eye and cast a non-verbal freezing charm. Harry didn't turn until Dudley's massive, frozen frame, fell backward, hitting the floor of the foyer with a hard thump.
Harry spun then, saw Hermione quickly concealing her wand, and his face broke into a beaming grin.
"Hermione!"
Hedwig the second hooted indignantly as Harry lunged for Hermione, upsetting her from his shoulder, and she flew to the lamp post on the street to watch her owner pull Hermione into a fierce, breath-stealing hug.
"Harry," she said, her heart filling with unexpected emotion. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed Harry until she'd laid eyes on him.
"It's been what, four months since we've spoken?" Harry said, stepping back and holding on to her shoulders, "and then it was in the lift on the way to meetings."
"We haven't really talked in almost a year," she said, surprised by the sadness that came into her heart upon realizing how far apart they'd drifted.
"Yeah," Harry said, her feelings reflected in his vivid green eyes. "It's been too long. What do you say we meet for drinks tonight? I'm not doing anything, and it'd be great to spend the evening with you."
Hermione bit her lip and then said, "I promised Ginny I'd visit the florist. She's worried the order won't be completed in time."
"Why don't we go together?" Harry suggested. "After that, we'll have those drinks."
"I think that's a wonderful idea. Meet me outside of The Magical Green tonight at six?"
"I look forward to it."
Hermione looked at Dudley, who was eyeing her with two angry eyes, perfectly frozen on the floor. "He was about to hit you from behind," she said, by way of explanation.
"What else is new?" Harry replied, shaking his head at his cousin.
~~~~~~~~~~
"Mr. Himptin," Hermione said, sighing in frustration. Standing behind Mr. Brian Himptin, a handsome, if not supremely arrogant, wizard was four rambunctious boys running about the room behind him, ages ten, eleven, twelve, and fourteen. The fourteen year old had used his father's wand to jinx Mr. Himptins sister, turning her green and giving her devilish red horns that sprouted from the top of her head.
"What is there to discuss?" Himptin said, his face flushed with anger. "My son apologized to his aunt, she forgave him, so what is the problem here?"
"The problem, sir, is your lack of concern for the issue at hand. Your son broke the law, and you don't seem to even care that he hurt your own sister!"
"He's a fourteen year old boy. They do things like that. It isn't as if he intended to cause her harm, he was only playing."
"You're making excuses for his atrocious behavior. What kind of impact do you think this will have-"
"Darling, are you going let a Mudblood tell you how to raise our children?"
A tall, regal woman with auburn hair and brown eyes had entered the room behind her husband. She stalked toward Hermione, nose high in the air. Hermione recognized her as a woman from the Official Gobstones Club, in the Department of Magical Games and Sports. If Hermione wasn't mistaken, she was one of Arthur's cousins.
"That's a very good point Alexandria," Mr. Himptin said, looking disdainfully at Hermione.
She felt that old familiar sting of hurt upon being called a Mudblood. She tried not to let it get to her, but she couldn't help herself, and the hurt quickly turned to anger.
"Mudblood, ey?" Hermione said, pulling out her case report. "Very well. It is the finding of this officer that you are not only rude and recalcitrant, but you are unabashed at your complete lack of control over your children and your wand. This Mudblood intends to institute the stiffest punishment I have at my disposal, which is a one hundred Galleon fine and the arrest of your right to perform magic in this house until the start of the school term on September first-"
"That's preposterous!" Alexandria said, her mouth hanging open in the most unflattering manner.
"You're going to give us a one hundred Galleon fine, and no magic for the rest of the summer for some green skin and horns? You can't do that!" Brian said, his arms hanging limp at his sides.
"Oh, but I can," Hermione said, feeling dark satisfaction at their shock and bewilderment. "You see, it is my job to determine whether or not parents are genuinely repentant for the mistakes made with allowing their wand to get into their children's hands. Apparently you are not."
"Well, wait one moment now," Alexandra said, plastering a phony smile on her face. "We're sorry about the Mudblood comment. That was completely uncalled for."
"It was, it was," Brian said, nodding in agreement. "We didn't mean it. Come now, why don't you join us for a spot of tea? Perhaps we could work something out to your…satisfaction? I'm sure your job doesn't pay as much as you'd probably like. A nice little bonus, under the table as it were, would do you some good, wouldn't it?"
"Oh yes, I'm sure it would," Alexandria said, looking as though she were smiling around a terrible pain.
"Are you trying to bribe me?" Hermione asked slowly. "Because if you are, that carries a prison term-"
"No!" Alexandria and Brian said at once, holding up their hands to placate her.
"No bribes here," Brian said quickly. "You say, one hundred Galleons?"
"That's not so bad," Alexandria said, still smiling her phony smile. "We can afford it."
"I'm sure you can," Hermione said, enjoying the sight of the two snobs squirming before her. She could imagine how they would curse her once she'd left the premises, but she didn't care. "If magic is performed by anyone in this house before the first of September, you will have to pay an additional two hundred Galleon fine and the wand of the offender in question will be confiscated for six months. Get control of your wands and your children," Hermione cautioned. "The Wizengamot is considering adding a mandatory prison sentence for first offenses."
She signed off on the case, glad to be finished for the day, and Disapparated to the sight of two phony grins plastered to the Himptin's faces, and the sound of their children screaming like wild animals in the background.
~~~~~~~~~~
Stepping into The Magical Green was very much like stepping into paradise. The smell of literally thousands of magical and non-magical flowers and plants blended together to make a natural aroma that soothed the pent up tension left in her muscles pinched and aching from her last appointment.
If they only hadn't called me a Mudblood, Hermione thought, breathing in the beautiful scent of the flowers and freshly cut grass of the floor of the shop. A headache had begun to throb in the back of her head, and she could just imagine her blood pressure had been sky high after dealing with the Himptins.
A loud sneeze drew her attention away from three small Whomping Willow saplings that were beating an unfortunate gardener attempting to replant them to give them more room to grow. Harry Potter emerged from behind a row of chrysanthemums, rubbing his nose, his eyes watering.
"I didn't know you were allergic to flowers," Hermione said. Harry was, like her, still in his robes from work.
"Not all flowers, just those Misting Merryports," said Harry.
Misting Merryports were a magical plant named after the witch who'd discovered them. They were beautiful, possessing vividly colored, fleshy petals. They were popular because they were perennials, having an indefinite lifespan when well fed. They had pods in the center that burst and sprayed out a fragrant mist that eliminated the need for air fresheners.
"You're in trouble," Hermione said, "Ginny wants them at her wedding."
"Oh, you're kidding!" Harry said, sneezing again. His eyes were terribly red and swollen.
"We'd better get you out of here," Hermione said, leading him further into the shop and away from the smell of the Misting Merryports. She left him beside some harmless, run of the mill white roses, and went to check on the order for wedding. Once that was completed, she found Harry leaning on an empty table, staring at a fishpond with Lotus's floating on the surface.
Since he was unaware of her presence, Hermione took a few moments to enjoy his profile. Harry had really grown into a handsome man. He wasn't just tall and muscular, he was kind of rugged. He had the traces of beard stubble which gave his strong jaw line a bluish tint. She'd always been able to appreciate Harry's physical qualities, but as time passed, he became much more pleasurable to look at.
Harry was definitely easy on the eyes, and she wondered if he was seeing anyone. As far as she knew he'd never allowed himself to get really close to a woman. His first excuse had been a fear of Voldemort using that person to hurt him. His second excuse…she didn't know of a second reason for him to deny himself a companion. He and Ginny had tried to make it work after he'd killed Voldemort, but they'd drifted apart, and Neville had caught her, but no one had caught Harry.
"Harry, ready to go?"
Harry stood and offered her his arm, which she took, enjoying the feel of the hard bicep under his robe. He smelled like fresh air and a faint trace of aftershave, which Hermione found very pleasant. She'd always loved the way Harry and Ron smelled. They'd always been masculine but fresh.
"I was thinking we could walk to the Leaky Cauldron," Harry said. "It's not far from here."
"A walk would be nice," Hermione said.
~~~~~~~~~~
The walk was more than nice. Hermione, arm still looped with Harry's, strolled along casually beside him in companionable silence. She loved that about her relationship with Harry. They could be together in perfect quiet and never feel ill at ease.
Unfortunately their lazy stroll turned into a mad dash for the Leaky Cauldron when the rain kicked up again. Hermione knew Harry could have gone much faster, but her shoes had not been designed for running, and she didn't feel secure in moving too quickly. She didn't want to sprain her ankle only three days from Ginny's wedding.
The Leaky Cauldron was blessedly warm compared to the chill air that had come in with the freak storm front that had taken over much of the country. The air smelled of a variety of roasting meats and vegetables. The lighting was muted and warm, the cherry wood of the furniture dark and gleaming from a fresh oiling, and the booths cozy and soft. Soaking wet, Harry and Hermione took a seat next to a blazing fire.
"I can't believe how cold it's gotten," Harry said, sitting down beside her. "I hope things look up for Ginny and Neville's wedding. I'd hate for them to have to postpone."
"So do I," Hermione said, rubbing her hands together. Harry surprised her by suddenly taking them in his and blowing onto them.
Though he'd done this for her on many occasions over the course of their friendship, this time was different. This time Hermione felt a strange tingling over her entire body, and she had to gulp as her mouth had gone suddenly dry. Oblivious to her reaction, Harry ministered to her hands until they were warm.
"Better?" he asked, rubbing her hands between his and massaging her fingers.
"Much, thank you."
Harry looked directly at her and smiled.
"What?"
He shrugged. "I didn't realize I'd missed you so much until I saw you at Aunt Petunia's."
"I was thinking the same thing," she said honestly. Tom arrived and Hermione ordered them a bottle and some of his beef stew for dinner.
"What have you been doing with yourself, Harry?"
Harry took a sip of wine and shook his head. "Rounding up Dark wizards and witches for the Ministry. You'd be surprised how much Dark activity is going on, even after Voldemort's fall. What about you?"
Hermione fiddled with her spoon, pushing it around the thick, steaming stew, unearthing chunks of beef and carrots and potatoes, but she had no real desire to eat. Her hands, she realized, still tingled, and she wondered at her reaction.
"Same as always, you know, cleaning up people's mistakes with magic."
"You don't sound very happy," Harry said, eyeing her shrewdly.
"Of course I'm happy!"
Harry leaned back in the booth, stretching his long legs out in front of him. His robes fell open, revealing a simple white dress shirt, tucked into a pair of black slacks. It was odd how she'd never really noticed how flat but powerful Harry's body was.
What am I doing? Hermione wondered, tearing her eyes away from Harry, who was holding his glass of wine up and looking at the fire through the deep red liquid.
"You don't sound very enthusiastic about your job is all," Harry said. He looked away from the wine and back to her. She immediately broke eye contact, feeling her neck go warm. He had the most penetrating gaze. She feared he would look right through her.
So what if he looks through me? I've never had anything to hide from Harry, Hermione thought, still confused at the unusual turmoil that had arisen within.
"It's a job. It pays the rent."
Harry laughed.
"What?"
"It pays the rent…When did we become adults, Hermione? When did we become concerned with rent, and groceries, and jobs?"
Hermione laughed with him. "I know what you mean. Sometimes I sit up and I expect to find myself in my four poster at Hogwarts. Those were the days."
"Mmm…Life was exciting."
"Too exciting at times."
"Dangerous."
"You still have plenty of danger in your life."
"Yeah, but I don't have my best mates to face it with me," Harry said. "Ron plays for the Chudley Cannons, you clean up after people's magical mistakes, and I take down evil men and women with delusions of world domination."
"Don't you have a partner?"
"Tonks," he said. "But she's due for a promotion, and she mothers me."
Hermione laughed. "She doesn't."
"Yes, she does. She and Remus seem to think they're my adopted parents. She's got it in her head to find me a wife."
Hermione, who'd finally taken a bite of stew, gagged. "A wife?" she said, coughing. Harry patted her on the back. "Thanks."
"Sometimes I'm tempted to…"
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Holding back on me now, Harry?"
Harry grinned. "Never. Sometimes I'm tempted to let them arrange something for me. I'm a little tired of being alone."
"I know the feeling."
"You don't have a boyfriend? What happened with you and Krum?"
"Fell apart."
"You and Robert?"
"Fell apart," Hermione repeated, blushing.
"Peter, Anson, Gene?"
"Fell apart," she repeated, sadly. "And how did you even know about Anson and Gene? I never told you about them."
"Word travels. I mean, you are famous, you know."
"Yeah, famous. And bored."
Harry began to look concerned and he sat up. "Is something wrong, Hermione?"
"No. Let's not talk about our love lives and our jobs, Harry. We'd only depress ourselves, and I want to cheer up."
"Then let's talk about days gone by," Harry proposed, raising his wine glass, and she did likewise.
The evening passed amicably then. They rehashed some of the better moments of their lives at school, from the day they met on the train until they went their separate ways three years ago to pursue their own careers. The wine and the conversation lasted until ten in the evening, when Harry and Hermione stood on wobbly legs.
"My flat is right here in Diagon Alley," Harry said with a hiccup. "You should walk back to my place and then Floo home instead of trying to Apparate all the way to Hogsmeade."
"I think you're right," she said, moving woozily toward the door. "When did you move to Diagon Alley?"
"Three months ago," he said, around yet another hiccup. Hermione leaned heavily on Harry's arm, grateful that he was a bit steadier on his feet than she was on hers. She never could hold her drink like Harry.
The rain now fell in a soft drizzle. Harry moved to conjure an umbrella but Hermione halted him.
"I'd rather have the cool water on my face. I'm a bit dizzy."
"Alright."
They walked along in companionable silence, passing a few people on the street. After walking nearly fifteen minutes they came to Harry's flat, which was located above an apothecary.
Though it looked small on the outside, the engorgement charm made the inside very large. The flat offered vaulted ceilings, ornately carved wood work, expensive and comfortable furniture, and heavy velvet drapes to cover the windows, and shining wood floors.
"You're certainly living in style," Hermione said, looking around his new apartment. "Your last place looked like a beggar lived in it."
"Mother Tonks decorated," said Harry, by way of explanation.
"Mother Tonks," Hermione repeated, snorting with laughter as she collapsed on a leather couch. "Do you call her that to her face?"
"Of course not," Harry said. "I enjoy the ability to walk straight a little too much."
He sat next to her so that his right side was pressed to her left. She settled into the crook of his arm, wondering if she would pass out right there. She'd imbibed too much wine and had not eaten enough food.
"I should go," she said, sighing.
"It's nice having an old friend for company," Harry said. "You, Ron and me are going to have to learn to make time for one another. I don't want to grow apart from the two of you."
Hermione looked up at Harry. "I agree. It would be nice to have dinner once in awhile."
He was looking back at her, and the silence between them lingered, and stretched until it went from being comfortable and familiar to something new and dangerously charged. The smile slid off of Harry's face, and she thought she heard his breath quicken. His eyes were hooded, and she gulped as she realized their faces, their lips, were entirely too close. If she didn't do something soon, they would meet in a kiss that was anything but platonic.
"I should get home," she said, panicking. She got to her feet as Harry pulled way. She hadn't even realized he'd wrapped a hand around her lower back and rested it on her waist until she stood.
"Right," he said, also gulping and frowning. She imagined he was as surprised by what had almost happened as she was. "Um…right."
"I see you have Floo powder," said Hermione. Her voice was oddly high and a little frantic.
Harry nodded. "Yeah. Plenty. I usually Apparate everywhere, I hardly use the stuff."
Taking a pinch of the powder, Hermione stepped into the cold hearth. "I'll see you….When will I see you?"
"Ginny's wedding," Harry said. "Say, Hermione, why don't we go together? I don't have a date, do you?"
"Oh," she said, biting her lower lip. "I'm sorry, Harry, but I asked Kevin Kettlebottom if he'd like to join me. I didn't know I'd be seeing you."
An odd look stole over Harry's face. He suddenly sounded cool when he spoke. "Oh, Kevin Kettlebottom."
"Yes. You object to him?"
"No, I'm sure he's nice enough. Well…I'll see you then."
"Perhaps we can have lunch sometime?"
"I'd like that. Good-night."
Wondering at Harry's strange shift in attitude, Hermione offered a faltering smile before saying, "Granger house, Hogsmeade." She through the powder at her feet and spun away in a flash of green flame.