Click. Click. Click. Click.  For pairs of shoes to four different owners ring out their steps.

"Miss Granger, I do remember you as being quite the activist in your school days. You campaigned for rights for house-elves did you not?” She nodded. “And yet you sit by and watch idly as your own friends get killed. Why?”

She sat there thinking about it. “Because.” She said simply. “I was afraid.” He sat back in his chair and stared at her through the smoke.

“A very brave reply.”

He looked at his reflection, mirrored back in the leather boots. It wasn't that he was vain, he just wanted to make sure he looked good. After all, appearances were everything in this world. And he had to appear to be on the right side.

She knew of the issues with war. She'd seen it first hand. And she was willing to help  

Just because the Party would kill him if they found out about him was no reason for him not to believe in the Party. They had done so much already, so much for the good of the people.  

Somewhere she had ceased being Hermione Granger, brightest witch of the age, and somewhere she became Hermione Granger, middle class secretary. It had been so long since she had done anything with her life. And she missed it.

She was another one like him, surviving in a world that did not want them.

Damn him for bringing up memories she had tried so hard to forget.

He was in it for himself. He didn't have some high-minded noble cause.

"He's a good man, ye treat him right, ye hear?"