Disclaimer: Not mine.
For the first time, Hermione was truly alone.
Well that wasn't true.
Bar occasional summers at home with her parents and winter terms she didn't spend with the Weasleys, something non-existent after fifth year, she was now absolutely alone.
To be in a room in complete silence should have been total serenity to her. After the hectic pace that was her life two years post-war: going back to Hogwarts for her final year through independent study courses, applying and accepting an apprenticeship with the Department for the Regulation of the Control of Magical Creatures shortly after (despite lucrative offers for a war heroine elsewhere), finding a small flat for herself that was affordable and a few skips away from her childhood home, and getting ready to send her newly rescued and restored parents, now home alone, off to a Mediterranean cruise (they wanted to go to Australia before Hermione talked herself into a fit trying to convince them otherwise– safety precautions, in case locals would recognize them as Monica and Wendell), her life was forever in frantic motion.
But however her boyfriend Ron was away in what would be a year of Auror training.
Her best friend Harry, coincidentally, got assigned to help train Ron's group of trainees.
And her close friend Ginny just landed herself a spot as a Chaser on the Holyhead Harpies Quidditch team and had been spending her summer going on world tour with them.
So here she was, sitting in her makeshift cubicle at the Ministry in her department, outside her supervisor's office, Tander DeRogue. A Hufflepuff Hogwarts graduate about ten years her senior, he was a man with the exuberant personality of Hagrid, with the grace of Seamus Finnigan in his first year charms class– a combination that never made for a boring day. While not present for the entire Final Battle, he returned to Hogwarts to help safely evacuate the younger students. Quite charming really he was, with a roguish, boy-next-door look.
Across from her sat her fellow apprentice, Ernie Macmillian. Ernie was just…Ernie. School behind them, Hermione hardly knew Ernie, though he always earned her respect through his willingness to fight the Final Battle. After his final year, he worked at the Ministry in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office cooped up in a small compartment with no windows as a Junior Music Detection Liasion. Meaning he'd listen to hundreds upon hundreds of songs for traces of magic. He was convinced Spice Girls were secretly sirens. And David Bowie was a shape shifter.
And Hermione understood why Ernie was Ernie. That kind of job would drive anyone stir crazy.
But at least it wasn't silence.
And you weren't alone.
"Hey, Herm."
"Hermione," Hermione politely corrected.
Ernie ignored her and continued. "Did I tell you about the time we analyzed The Clash 'Rock the Casbah' single for days on wobbly record…"
"Record player."
"…for magical detection? Man, those guys are ace."
Hermione slowly nodded. She was staring at an old review file over the capture of a baby Graphorn abandoned in South America before she arrived. A magical creature native to the mountains of Europe abandoned in infancy on a completely different continent raised more than enough suspicion. It garnered Hermione's attention. However, it wasn't enough for Ernie to realize her concentrations were elsewhere.
Ernie shifted in his seat. "What are you doing?"
"Reading this case file about the baby Graphorn."
"There was a baby Graphorn? Were was I?"
"Probably somewhere in between '2 Become 1' and 'Mama' on the Spice album."
Ernie's slammed down on his desk. "Play the album backwards around the Regal Navy…"
"Royal Navy."
"…and I guarantee you they will respond. Apparently my testing methods were a bit too dangerous for muggles."
"I can imagine a minotaur responding to 'Back for Good' by Take That." Hermione had to chuckle at herself. Her humor fell in spite of Ernie's confused gaze.
She was pretty sure that was funny.
Not even a little bit?
He still looks confused.
Okay…she went back to reading the file.
"No need to read a file that concerns nothing of us. In fact, it's not even our jurisdiction."
It's true. The specifics of the department where Hermione apprenticed only regulated magical creatures in the United Kingdom. Respective country's ministry and the Continental Regulation Department, The Con, a hierarchy with a lot more manpower than just her, Ernie, and Tander, handled creatures found within European territory. Creatures in other countries went to the International Division or ID. The ID was a prestigious sector of the Magical Creatures Department, and while Hermione, with her war heroine status, could've easily negotiated a position on that team, she wanted no special treatment under any circumstance.
So she was here. In front of Ernie.
Still reading this blasted file.
"Ernie, don't you find it a bit odd that a newborn Graphron would be found outside of its native country?"
"Probably for a change of weather."
She sighed in exasperation.
"Calm down, Herms…"
"Her…"
"Granger! Macmillian!" Tander's baritone voice yelled from his office. Hermione placed the file back on her desk before rising and joining Ernie on the path to her boss' office.
Her superior's office was lined with grey walls, a grey file cabinet, and a matching desk and bookshelf set, with a window that was charmed to display the weather outside and in any location he needed to head to, very clever. It would've been a huge office if he didn't insist on the life size replicas of certain magical creatures, which really added character to the grey room. He was quite partial to the heliopath that was placed near his floo. It scared most everyone attempting to call him through the network. Hermione thinks that was his intent.
Tander shifted some files on his desk before addressing the pair. "You two all caught up?"
Ernie raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Caught up with what?"
"I don't know." Tander shrugged his shoulders before plopping in his chair. "But it seemed official and all Ministry-like to say that, yeah? But you two go home. It's a slow day…"
Hermione refuted, "But Mr. DeRogue, it's only half past–"
He waved his hand. "Go home. Trust me, there'll be a time when you both beg me for leave."
"You don't have to tell me twice," Ernie muttered before leaving. Hermione stayed however, and huffed in willfulness.
"Granger, go," Tander urged. "I have a feeling you won't get too many occasions like this. Not with the way The Con and the ID rumble."
"About the Graphorn, perhaps? I've been reading about the case file, and I know it happened before I got here, but I do find it odd that–"
"Leave, before ward you out of the offices."
"I really have nothing to do," Hermione conceded. Going home at this rate would mean reruns on the telly, a check-up of her parents' home, and complete and utter silence– a thing Hermione didn't want to introduce herself to.
"Okay. You can take these responses to The Con and ID. But really, go home. Eat, sleep, read, do something worthwhile."
She accepted the papers he held out to her. "Will do, sir. I'll deliver these then straighten out my desk and I guess head home."
"And that's an order," Tander demanded jokingly.
Hermione took the long way home; trying to delay the silence that was waiting for her, when suddenly a colorful, big and bright exotic bird began to fly into her vision and close to her flat.
Hermione groaned. This bird was not discreet enough to her muggle neighbors. She lived near her parents in the middle of muggle London for Merlin's sake!
She ran to a deserted side alley and apparated into her home, hoping to shoo the bird off before anyone nearby become suspicious.
Hermione place was quaint. A living room, a kitchen, two bedroom and one and a half baths, furnished with what she thought were the essentials like a small brown couch, telly and phone, a bed for her room, a desk for the other, a kitchen table, and of course a bookshelf. She prided herself on her practical nature. Albeit there was a fireplace she had been tirelessly trying to attach to the Floo network, knowing Ron's preference to travel. He still roomed with George above his shop and preferred the accessibility.
"Now, who is sending me letters?" she asked the bird as she opened the window in her kitchen. In return to got a loud squawk that she tried quickly 'sshh.'
She untied the folded piece of parchment the bird had attached and rushed to the kitchen to tear off a piece of bread for the bird to have on its journey back. The bird had other idea, flew into her place, and took the entire bunch of grapes she had sitting on her table.
Hermione sighed in defeated as the bird exited. She held up the parchment to read.
Hermione,
I'm really not supposed to be writing. But we're practicing our stealth abilities; so I figure I can stealth-ly send this message to you. Call me clever.
It's only been but a few days, but they're already sent us off-grid to some remote location that I'd fail to describe adequately to you. And I know how much you love detail. Let's say if I can get Harry to tell me wherever the bloody hell we are, I'd take you myself, yeah?
Of course, Harry doesn't show me any special treatment. Fact, I hardly see him outside sessions. I really only see other Jackets here. That's what we call ourselves training, cause we wear these funny jackets…nevermind. Again, I'll have to show you.
But these guys are young, 'Mione. Okay, most are a year or two younger, but still. Dennis Creevey's here and he's just a kid! Wait I'm not supposed to name names. Forget I said names.
I miss you, Hermione. This will be a long year.
I'll write when I stealth-ly can.
Love,
Ron
Hermione held the note close to her, hearing Ron's voice as clear as day in her mind. He left in what seemed like a lifetime but really two weeks ago to start Auror training. Hermione hadn't really noticed, with her work being able to keep her busy since she started a month ago. But it was moments like these, were work wasn't there to cover her; she was faced with the silence she was a stranger to.
Gripping the note closer, she settled on her couch, turning on the television in hopes to distract her mind.
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