Ok, I know I just started another story, but I really like the plan for this one.. If it goes well I think it might be my favourite.. So I'll try and keep both updated as much as possible! (But I can't promise anything - depends on my creativity!)
"I'll go," Hermione volunteered.
The entire office fell silent as her co-workers turned to stare at her incredulously.
"But Hermione, I know you've had bad experiences there -" started Susan Bones nervously.
Hermione was worried deep down too, but she brushed it aside. What kind of employee would she be if she never took any risks?
"I am more than capable of overcoming any past experiences, but thank you for your concern, Susan," she added with a warm smile. Susan nodded.
Nobody in the new Department of Dark and Dangerous Artifacts had wanted to take the long put-off visit to Malfoy Manor. In fact, they'd spent the last thirty minutes arguing about who wasn't going. Their department had been created in the aftermath of the war, designed to take on the huge job of scouring the homes of Dark families and getting rid of their dangerous Dark objects. It wasn't always safe - Ernie MacMillan had lost an arm to a snapping wardrobe in the Nott Manor, and they had all suffered minor cuts and bruises. But the fact they always had to be on their toes gave Hermione the fulfillment she needed from a job.
"Well, the initial search will take me quite some time - at least two weeks to take an itinerary of all possibly dangerous items. I imagine I will come back with quite a list," she smiled, and everyone at the table laughed.
Hermione was never quite sure if her jokes were really funny any more. Her (unwanted) celebrity status meant that people tended to laugh raucously at her jokes, even if she knew that they weren't actually funny. It was tiresome, and made her feel like all her conversations were false.
"Has everybody got two weeks' worth of work to complete?" she asked. She was Head of Department, after all.
Everyone nodded glumly; while the exciting part of the job involved destroying magical artifacts, the amount of paperwork that came with it came second to no other department. She imagined she could go away for a month and they still wouldn't have finished all their paperwork.
"I will likely pop into the office every few days to see how everyone is getting on," Hermione continued, "but don't count on it. If you need me, just send me an owl."
"Are you really sure you want to do this, Hermione?" asked Katie Bell, concern on her face. "I will volunteer if you really don't want to..."
"Thank you, Katie," said Hermione with another warm smile. "I'm sure I'll be ok, though. If not someone else can take over."
Katie nodded, returning her smile just as Susan had. While Hermione had perfected her smile, she certainly didn't mean it. She was sick to death of people dancing around her like she would explode and have a mental breakdown at any moment. She wasn't as fragile as people thought she was; surely she had proved that already?
The meeting ended and everyone went back to their respective offices and desks. Hermione sat back in her chair and ran her hands down her face. Why had she volunteered?
She supposed, as Head of Department, she had assumed that it was her responsibility. After all, her workers had just spent half an hour arguing about who didn't want to go, each refusing responsibility. Katie's offer to replace her wasn't truly heartfelt; Hermione knew she didn't want to go.
She dreaded to think what memories the Manor would bring back to her. The minutes that felt like hours squirming on the carpet under Bellatrix Lestrange's curses. Dobby saving their lives and losing his own. Lucius Malfoy's hissing voice suggesting he fetch Voldemort.
Shuddering, Hermione began to collect the necessary papers she would need for the first day of initial searching.
Hermione did not sleep well that night. Images of Bellatrix Lestrange's face plagued her dreams, and when she awoke she was clutching at the scar on her forearm that still read "Mudblood" as clearly as if she'd just written it. She had not had one of these nightmares for a long time.
Harry and Ron dropped by the next morning on their way to work. Hermione had been sitting on the kitchen counter eating a slice of toast when they appeared suddenly in her fireplace. Her hand flew to her chest in shock and she nearly dropped her piece of toast.
"Jesus, you two, you could give me a little warning next-" she began, but she was cut off angrily by Ron.
"Why the hell are you going back to Malfoy Manor, Hermione? Were you ever going to tell us? All the things that happened there... And nobody knows where Malfoy is! You could get hurt."
Taken aback by his outburst, she glanced at Harry. He looked awkward, as if he didn't know whose side to take. She narrowed her eyes at him, letting him know she wasn't happy, and he looked away sheepishly.
"Firstly, Ronald," she said, her voice laced with venom. "I wasn't going to tell you because it's none of your business. I don't normally talk to you about my work and you don't talk to me about yours. This is my job, and I'll be damned if you walk in here thinking you can get angry at me for that."
Ron spluttered, his ears turning red. He marched forward across her kitchen and grabbed her by the wrist.
"Come on, Hermione, you know I don't like your job," he said pleadingly. "Just give it up and work somewhere safe, like in another department. An office job... Then I know you'll be safe."
Disgusted, Hermione tried to release her arm from his iron grip. "How dare you? I am perfectly capable of looking after myself!"
"I won't let you go. Come back and stay with me like I asked you before -"
Snatching her hand back from his, she raised it and slapped him across the face before he could so much as blink. He stumbled backwards as she dropped down from the counter.
"Where do you get the nerve to say such things?" she hissed angrily. "I don't love you, Ron, and you know that. I don't want to live with you, I don't want to marry you, I don't want anything to do with you except your friendship! When are you going to get that into your head?"
Ron's face was redder than a tomato, but she couldn't tell if he was angry or embarrassed - or both. Despite his puppy dog look, she continued her rage.
"You have absolutely zero say in my life, Ronald. Stop acting like my father or my husband and just act like a concerned friend. I'm sure Harry has something to say about the situation but he isn't barging in here like he owns me!"
Harry stepped forward and pulled Ron away from Hermione.
"I can't believe you just did that, Ron," he said quietly. "What she's saying might be harsh, but she's right."
"Thank you, Harry!" Hermione cried, exasperated. "I've told you so many times, Ron. It's been 5 years. Please get it into your head," she added in a begging tone.
Ron had never gotten it into his head that Hermione didn't love him. When she tried to make a go of things with him, it hadn't worked out from the start. They say that after the "honeymoon period" a relationship begins to go downhill - and sometimes ends when it no longer resembles a relationship. But for Hermione, their relationship was at that end point from the start.
Ron took her out to important Ministry dinners and War Hero parties and put her on his arm like a trophy. At home, he expected her to do the cooking and cleaning like Mrs Weasley, and thought that she should have sex with him whenever he wanted her to. It wasn't a relationship to her - it was like slavery.
Just a month after the final battle, she bought her own flat and moved out for good.
But 5 years later Ron had still not gotten over her. He couldn't see that he was stifling her, pushing her away with his demands and his over-protectiveness. Of course, Harry was over-protective, but in the best-friend way that he had been all through school. She missed their dynamic.
"Please leave, Ron," Hermione asked quietly when he did not reply. "Harry, you can stay and give me your opinion if you want to."
When Ron didn't move, Harry began to drag his arm towards the fireplace.
"Come on, Ron, things are getting heated enough already. You've got to stop this, mate," he said worriedly. Ron was becoming near obsessive, and he had to listen to his rants all the time in the Auror office.
Ron made to argue back, but Harry pushed him into the fireplace and he spun away. When he turned back around, Hermione's shoulders were sagged and her hands covered her face. He walked straight over to her and wrapped his arms around her.
Moving her hands from her face to around Harry's ribs, Hermione sighed.
"I don't know what to do any more, Harry," she muttered sadly. "I've tried being nice, I've tried being harsh, I've tried ignoring him... Nothing works."
"I know," he said comfortingly. "Maybe if I get Ginny to have another word with him... That seemed to work for a little while last time..."
Harry had asked his wife to sort out her older brother a couple of years ago. He didn't know what she said to him, but he avoided Hermione for two months. Eventually, though, he came back. He was normal for a while, just like when they were at Hogwarts. But then his jealousy came back when Hermione offered to take her friend Oliver Wood to a Muggle cinema, as he'd never been before.
"You can try," she sighed. "Really though, Harry, I will be fine at Malfoy Manor. No-one even lives there any more, or if they do, they're very quiet. You know I don't take risks that I haven't weighed up first."
Harry released her. "I know, Hermione. While I don't like the idea, I don't have a problem with it. I wouldn't personally go back, but it's your job and your choice. Just promise me you'll let me know if anything happens."
"Of course I will, Harry!" Hermione promised. "You know I would."
"Good," said Harry firmly, his green eyes stern behind his glasses. He glanced at his watch. "Oh crap. I have to get to work, Hermione. I'll have a word with Ginny for you. See you later!"
Hermione barely had time to wave goodbye as he dived into her fireplace. She had the Floo open to three other places; the Weasleys, the Potters and her office. But she had been debating for some time shutting off the Floo to the Weasleys. However she looked at it, though, Ron would still find a way back in. He'd just Floo to Harry's and then to hers.
Sighing, she left her flat with her briefcase and Apparated.
Malfoy Manor had really fallen into disrepair. The large gates left orange rust marks on her hands, and as she walked up the path the grass each side reached her shoulders. It was a little unnerving.
The front doors were damp and she rang the heavy doorbell just in case anyone was still there. After a minute with no response, she unlocked the door and stepped inside.
A musty, disused smell hit her nostrils and she coughed a little at the sudden odour. She guessed nobody had lived here for years. Dust was piled high on the vases and statues littering the entrance hall, and she could barely see the occupants of any of the portraits - although that was probably a good thing, she told herself. They wouldn't be too pleased to see a Mudblood back in their precious Manor.
"Hello?" she called tentatively, and cringed a little as her voice came echoing back to her.
Where the hell did she start?
A floor plan of the Manor in her hand, she decided to make a start in the main lounge to her left. It too was covered in dust, and when she walked in she shivered. This place was creepier than it had ever been.
Lucius was imprisoned and Narcissa was dead. She had been killed by rogue Death Eaters, who had at first evaded capture, for helping Harry in the clearing. Hermione's respect for the woman had grown immensely, and she had even attended the funeral. Draco Malfoy, she had noticed, was not there.
Trying to ignore the shivers that kept travelling down her spine, and the fear of being alone in the large Manor, she began to mutter her complex spells. Immediately she found a Dark object, a bracelet inside a chest of drawers, and wrote it down as well as marking it on her floor plan. There were only two more objects in this room, and Hermione imagined this was because of the amount of use the room was previously put to; their Darker objects were probably hidden away deep in the Manor.
It had been over three hours, and when she was just about finished in the lounge, a loud squeak startled her. A large rat scampered across her heeled feet, and she screamed loudly and stumbled backwards.
Unmistakably, through her echoing scream, Hermione heard the voice.
"What are you doing in my house, Mudblood?"