Hermione had given up a long time ago. Well, seven years ago to be exact. Seven years, two months, and a day to be absurdly exact. The first few years were the hardest. The empty spaces were lost in a whirlwind of activity, which suited her perfectly. At night however, when the lights were off and her guard let down, the rusty memories cautiously sniffed the air and, finding their cages unlocked and unattended, slithered into her dreams.
Again she stood at the train station, leaning against a dirty light post that left a long smudge down the back of her tattered coat. Her wild honey-brown frizz flew into her face as she puller her coat zipper high and readjusted her scarf. It was unseasonably cold even in her dream, so real that she shivered and pulled the covers closer.
On the platform businessmen in stiff suits marched briskly, their hands clutching impossibly shiny brief cases while tired workers trudged to their posts. Checking her watch with an air of exasperation, she noticed her lunch date was late. Ron was always late, but this time she had some big news.
Yes, she and Ron had been drifting apart since he and Lavender became serious. But he was always there to consul her as she struggled to break up with Dean Thomas and she was there to listen while he gushed of Lavender's beauty or spend time with Lavender when Ron couldn't. Those conversations were never enjoyable for Hermione. She sat and listened while Lavender conspiratorially confided in Hermione the enjoyment the two lovers had in each other's body.
Hermione took Lavender in stride, both confused in Ron's love for her and admiring his tolerance. A few times Ron had been called from being with Hermione to calm a hysterical Lavender and assure her that Hermione and he had no romantic involvement. These episodes followed with a few days of separation but the two friends never missed their Thursday lunch, quiet and formal as they may have become.
As Ron and Lavender became more entangled in each other's lives, Hermione found herself more as a fixture of convenience for Lavender. In their sixth year, Lavender decided to graduate from Hogwarts early to pursue a doomed career as a designer. Now convinced that Ron and Hermione would never be romantically connected, Lavender arranged the two's social lives to her liking. Ron accompanied Hermione to the seventh year ball at Lavender's decision only to leave Hermione alone in the middle of the dance floor after the first three songs. Apparently their love was too impatient and Ron needed to be with Lavender in her Hogsmead apartment.
They rarely spoke outside their lunch date, which Lavender could hardly know of. In their group of friends they subtly avoided each other's eyes and never made direct contact. Their icy gap was ignored by the other students and even failed to put a stop to some rather nasty rumors of the two's love. Rumors Lavender never missed.
Twenty minutes late and Hermione began to worry. Ron was never this late without notice. Maybe she could guilt her way into a free lunch. Five minutes later found her sitting on the hard bench next to the gate. Another three and she started to imagine seeing his figure. She started from her daydream when a small, excitable owl landed on her leg. She blinked and hesitantly reached for the tightly wound note on Pigwidgeon's leg. She read the note, laughed harshly, and appearated to her flat in Diagon Alley to pack, leaving behind two pieces of paper. The first was a tightly folded and slightly worn piece of office paper:
Miss Granger,
Congratulations! After an extensive search, we are proud to offer you the position of ambassador to the Muggle London. You come with very high expectations and we are sure you will rise to the challenge. The relationship between our two ministries has been tested these past two years and you are a wonderful representation of the welcome the wizarding world would like to convey to its neighbors. If you will have it, the job begins next Tuesday with an introduction to the Muggle Ministry. In an effort to promote inclusion, we prefer that you assimilate yourself into a Muggle lifestyle and refrain from unnessesary and extravagant displays of magic. A Muggle flat is being prepared for you. Enclosed you will find the key and the address.
Congratulations again,
K. Shaklebolt
Minister of Magic
