Chapter One - Secrets
The office was a study in contrasts. Decorated in delicate shades, it appeared light and airy. Seemingly delicate bookcases that had been enchanted by the occupant of the office to contain many more volumes that a casual observer would have thought possible graced two of the walls.
Despite the institutional feel of the cabinets and tables that framed the remaining walls, the desk was a curious blend of whimsy and style. Delicately shaded pieces of crystal were joined by seemingly random pieces of a silvery metal that gave an air of otherness to the desk, which seemed to have no upper surface. Yet the invisible top of the desk was the resting place of files and books, and a strangely out of place black plastic sphere, with a number "8" emblazoned on it's upper surface in a circle of gleaming white.
Leaning back in the very utilitarian leather desk chair, a young witch stared forlornly at the ceiling, as if trying to find inspiration or answers.
"Miss Granger?"
Looking down, Hermione smiled as Carra Wellings looked around the edge of the office door from the outer area. Shaking her head, Hermione noticed that her latest assistant seemed a bit at a loss trying to deal with her. "Carra, unless Minister Shacklebolt or Director MacAllister have issued a decree that I'm not yet aware of, my given name is still Hermione."
Smiling at the grateful look Carra returned, she waved her towards one of the chairs that faced her desk. "For Merlin's sake. Come in, sit down, and tell me what's got you worried enough to finally talk to me. You've been acting a bit distracted all day, and I don't think you've spoken two words since I got here."
Looking distinctly embarrassed and uncomfortable, the younger witch sat on the edge of the proffered seat and began to bite her lower lip. The two young women were a study in contrasts and similarities. Hermione was brown-eyed and dark haired. Her hair was barely constrained in a plait behind her neck, and she was smiling even as she was inwardly a bit put out at what she surmised was the reason, no the pair of reasons, for young Carra's discomfort.
Carra, while also petite, was delicate, barely four feet tall in stockings. She was as pale and blonde as one could become. Her blue eyes were astonishingly so, and seemed to dominate the delicate features of her face, giving her a seemingly perpetual look of wonder. Sitting back, Hermione noted again the resemblances and differences between Carra and her otherworldly cousin Luna.
Looking down at her hands, Cara began hesitantly. "Before you were here this morning, there were a couple of visitors." Looking up, Carra seemed uncertain whether she should continue or not.
Starting to laugh, Hermione stopped herself when she saw the stricken look on the younger witch's face. "Those weren't visitors Carra." Standing up from her chair, she moved around the desk and perched herself on the invisible edge, seemingly sitting on nothing. "Those were my two closest and most meddlesome friends."
Seeing the look of astonishment on the girl's face, Hermione smiled encouragingly. "I've had four assistants since I took this position and every time those two have come down and had a `conversation' with each and every one." Shaking her head in exasperation at the thought of Harry and Ron, she looked away from Carra to a picture of the three of them on the wall. Taken while they were on holiday up in the Hebrides, Harry and Ron were waving madly while her own image was trying to hide her face in embarrassment at her friends well-intentioned bumbling. Sighing softly in exasperation at the sight of Ron, she looked back and saw that the young witch look surprised.
"They said they were worried about you working too much and that they would consider it a personal favor to both of them if I would try to sort things out in the office so everything didn't end up on your desk." Smiling shyly, she looked over at the picture of the three. "They both seem so… nice." Shaking her head, she continued. "Luna said that all of you were really wonderful and that I shouldn't pay too much attention to everything that happened while you in school, but everyone was still marveling about the things you three did."
"Carra, I thought Luna would have convinced you that we were just people who did what needed to be done. You were there for part of it. A lot of folks did what needed to be done. Luna is one of the heroes of the war. Without her and a lot of other people, the world would be a very different place right now." Smiling at Carra's look of astonishment, she leaned forward and whispered. "Can I tell you a secret?"
Looking around to see if anyone else had appeared, she whispered back "Of course, Hermione. What is it?"
"Those two are both my best friends and I love them both very dearly. But usually I have to restrain myself from wanting to strangle them because they both worry altogether too much about me." Leaning back, she looked around and sighed. "Carra," she continued in a normal tone of voice, "those two are aurors. Not just any aurors but Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. They chase dark wizards, hunt down dementors, and save the world at least once a month."
Waving her hand around the office she smiled. "I, on the other hand, work in the Bureau of House-elf Relations." Smiling wickedly, she pointed at the picture on the wall. "Who do you think needs looking after more, me or those two lovable idiots?"
"When you put it in those terms, they are probably more in need of a minder than yourself." Carra replied hesitantly. She then smiled and looked at Hermione with a curious look. "You know, they both care for you very much. Whenever he said your name, Auror Weasley would get this funny look in his eyes. And Auror Potter would just smile when he did it."
Smiling wistfully, Hermione looked back to the picture on the wall. "Firstly, it's Ron and Harry. They'd both probably laugh themselves silly if someone who actually knew them called them that. And secondly," she broke off and shook her head at Ron who had the look Carra was describing watching Hermione in the picture without her knowing it, "Ron has had that same look in his eyes when he says my name or when he watches me when he thinks I don't know it since we were in our fourth year at Hogwarts."
"You do the same thing." Carra pointed out. "But mostly with Harry, though sometimes you do look like that when you talk about Ron." Looking puzzled, she looked as if she wanted to ask a question and didn't know how to frame it.
"The relationship between Ron and myself is complicated." Seeing the younger witch's eyes get even wider as she slowly nodded, Hermione sadly shook her head. "Ron and I are very close to each other and we do care about each other very much. When we aren't tempted to hex each other senseless, of course."
Standing up she put on her stern demeanor that she usually reserved for those who weren't convinced she was serious about her job. "Humor my boys, it makes them feel good that they're `protecting' me, but remember that you're my assistant and that means we're going to change the wizarding world just as much as they are, but we're going to sneak up on it."
Looking around, she continued. "Ron especially worries about me when I go and check up on house-elves and their situations, Sometimes it takes me away for visits and trips. Your number one job is to keep my well intentioned protectors convinced that everything is butterbeer and candied pineapple around here." Holding the younger witch's gaze for a second, she smiled slowly. "Understand?"
Smiling in return, Carra asked "Is this a case of what they don't know won't draw the attention of wrackspurts?"
"Exactly" Hermione began to chuckle and then both women began to laugh.
Glancing at the mysterious sphere on the desk, Carra looked questioningly. "I've been wondering about that."
Picking it up, Hermione began to smile. "This? You know I'm muggle-born, don't you?" Seeing Carra nod, she continued. "In the muggle world this is known as a `Magic 8 ball'. It's a muggle device for pretending to divine the future. And it works just about as well as anything I learned in Divination classes from Trewlaney."
Noticing her assistant's puzzled look, she held it out for inspection. "What you do is ask a question and then you turn the ball over. For example, `will I go out with Ron tonight for dinner?'" Holding the ball so they could both see it, she rotated it until the flat bottom was visible. "Floating inside is an oddly shaped piece with 20 different sayings written on its sides. One floats to the top and is visible in the window and `reveals' the answer to your question." Looking down, the message `My sources say no' floated in the window.
"Oh bother, I was looking forward to going out; we were supposed to try that new American style pizza place that opened in the West End." Smiling fondly at Carra's look of astonishment, she continued, "It's something I've always thought was funny, even before I knew magic existed for real. I had it in my old room at my parent's house. When I moved here to London I brought it to remind me of the magic in my life ever since."
As the ball began to get warm to the touch, and glow just a bit, Hermione hurriedly put it behind her on the desk and smiled. "Why don't you go out to your desk and see if there's anything you need to finish. If not, head out a bit early since the 8-ball seems to be convinced either Ron or I will be working late tonight. There's no sense in you getting caught up in it."
As the younger witch giggled and left, Hermione picked up the Magic 8-ball back up. As it kept getting warmer to the touch, she turned it over once again. In the viewing pane, the message "Lift Four, five minutes" was clearly visible. Sighing, she placed the ball gently on her desk, looked ruefully at the work she still had to do and walked slowly towards her office door.
`Ministry hallways are always much too long,' Hermione thought to herself as she walked through the corridor towards the bank of lifts at the central crossway. Forcing a smile to her face as she watched the occasional memo streak past her head towards some unknowing recipient, inwardly she fumed at the bother of it all. Between Ron's job, her job and her `job', it was amazing that she saw him as much as she did. Shaking her head, she mentally sighed.
Drawing closer to the waiting area, she noticed a tall, raven-haired witch wearing her usual combination of too much makeup and too little clothing. Mentally swearing, the end of a perfectly dreadful day would be a conversation with...
"Miss Parkinson." Smiling glacially, Hermione imagined the distinct joy she would feel when this piece of work finally paid for all of the chaos and mischief she had caused over the years.
"Why Hermione Granger, as I live and breathe." Smiling warmly, but with malice in her eyes, she turned slightly to acknowledge the presence of the new arrival. "It still is Granger, isn't it?"
Her smile broadening, her hand slipped into her handbag as she reached for her ever-present quill and notepad. "I noticed Ron looked quite the dashing bachelor at the reception for the Algonquin Grand Shaman last week. Has he finally kicked you to the curb dear?" Her smile widened even more, and the tip of her tongue briefly flicked between her lips.
"I seem to remember that Minister Shacklebolt promised you that the next time you had that notebook out here on Ministry premises when it wasn't a sanctioned press event, you would be joining your mentor Rita in her fact finding tour of Azkaban." Returning the smile, but with real warmth at the thought if Rita Skeeter being a long-term guest of the Ministry at Azkaban.
To accommodate her special abilities, the "public" discovery of which finally led to her arrest and conviction, her cell was populated with a generous supply of bats, sparrows and swallows. To this day, she still wasn't certain why George wanted to know whether they were European or African swallows, but the thought of Rita surrounded by those insect eating keepers was enough to make her begin to chuckle.
"Something funny Granger?" Pansy asked icily, narrowing her eyes trying to decipher what was amusing the other witch. "I would think that someone who spends their time catering to house-elves and watching her supposed boyfriend gallivant around while she faded into oblivion would find life less amusing." Letting a predatory smile curl her lips, she nodded thoughtfully. "I thought I would do a story about auror training. I've heard that your Ron was very `supportive' of one of those Americans that the Ministry has been letting cross-train with our aurors."
Watching Hermione closely, Pansy slipped into a very bad imitation of a southern American accent. "I do declare, I think her name was Marysue, or Billyjo or something like that." Switching back to her normal voice, she affected an air of innocence. "Would you be a love and ask Ron if he could forward me her contact information. I'm certain he's `kept in touch'. He was across the pond recently, no?"
Curling her lip into a sneer she turned her head back towards the door to see if the lift had arrived. "I wonder what your secret is, how you've managed to stay best friends with two such eligible young men for quite so long? Maybe I need to have a little chat with your dear friend Harry. I imagine my readers would love to know the real secrets behind this merry little `threesome'." Smiling again, she watched Hermione out of the corner of her eye, looking for a reaction.
Truly laughing, Hermione leaned back and gave Pansy an appraising look. "Harry said that you were trying to get another `interview' with him, but I didn't think you were quite this … desperate. You really don't want me to take notice that you're slutting around after Harry again, do you?" Shaking her head, she stared at the black-haired witch. "I noticed last time, and you remember exactly what happened, don't you?"
Watching the wide-eyed fear that quickly replaced the haughty disdain in Parkinson's eyes for a moment, she continued. "Just how long did that enchanted quaffle follow you around last time?" Smiling wickedly, she stared into the other woman's eyes. "And in case you're wondering, I was the one who enchanted that little gem to recognize when you were telling a lie, which made the entire thing so delightful."
Reaching up and brushing a stray strand of hair back behind her ear, she smiled coldly. "Harry is much less forgiving and understanding than I am. If he were ever to find out exactly what your role was that day, he would be very annoyed." Looking down at the wand she had tucked into a convenient spot on the bag she carried around the office, she chuckled. "And much more creative than I ever was when it comes to making someone's life `interesting'."
Just then, the subtle chime of the lift sounded and the door to car three opened. Seeing that the car was occupied, Pansy stepped inside and looked furiously back at Hermione.
Smiling sweetly, Hermione said. "I see you're headed down, just my luck. I'm so unhappy that we couldn't finish our little chat. It's so good to catch up with old chums from school."
Gathering herself together, Pansy shot Hermione a venomous look. "Of course, dear. And I hope I'll have those secrets all figured out by the time we next talk. Be certain you ask Ron about his lovely American friend for me." The lift doors closed. Two seconds later, unbeknownst to both witches, they said the exact same thing.
"Bitch"
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