Disclaimer: the characters and background stories are obviously not mine, nor is all the magic. That all belongs to the brilliant J.K. Rowling.
Author's note: I kind of disregarded a lot of things that officially happened as well as any existing timeline. The plot takes place in our time, so I also took certain things from reality, but used them for fictional purposes.
I hope you all enjoy the story, and if you happen to have any comment, anything whatsoever, please contact me or write a review.

The Story Never Ends

Chapter 1

September 19 2017.

It was still dark, and rain was softly pitter-pattering against the window when Hermione Granger woke up with a jolt. She quickly glanced at the red numbers on the radio alarm that was sitting on her nightstand. Merlin's beard, is that the time? Still asleep, Ron groaned as she tried to disentangle herself from his arms and throw off the duvet.

"Ron", she whispered, "Ron! Let go of me!"
Ron sleepily opened his eyes. "Whazz zthe time?" he asked, his voice slurring.
"It's 5 a.m., I overslept," Hermione whispered sharply, while swinging her legs out of bed and putting her feet on the cold wood of their bedroom floor.
"But no lightz yet? Come back to bed..." his voice trailed off, and he turned around facing the window, pulling the duvet back over his shoulders.
"Well, I can't, important meeting today," Hermione said under her breath, as Ron's familiar snore filled the bedroom again.

She went for the bathroom, tiptoeing on the landing to make sure she wouldn't wake their daughter, Rose. Looking in the mirror at her reflection, she sighed. Her hair was a mess, standing upright in several places and some loose strands that curled weirdly over her left shoulder. She also couldn't help but notice the bags that were beginning to form under her eyes, the small worry lines on her forehead and the subtle hollowness in her cheeks. Her posture wasn't any better, she thought, seeing how her shoulders were slightly hunched forward, her right shoulder even more than her left. Probably because of the heavy shoulder bag she was used to bring with her almost everywhere she went. Never leaving her work behind, she thought a little sadly.

After brushing her teeth, she blindly grasped for her wand to fix things, but it wasn't there. Then she remembered that Rose had been practicing the movements of a few charms the prior evening. Without turning any lights on, she slid into her daughter's bedroom. While ungracefully balancing on one leg to put on her black trousers, she whispered accio wand a few times. Her focus shifted too often between the spell and her suit, however, and her wand stopped mid-air, clattering on the ground.

A small silhouette rose from the bed in the corner. "Mummy?" the little girl said, rubbing her eyes.
"Shhh" Hermione hushed, "it's all right. Mummy is just taking back her wand." While saying so, she stepped forward and picked it up.
"Are you leaving, mummy?" Rose asked, pouting her lips.
"Yes, sweetheart, I'm afraid so. I've got a very busy day at work today," Hermione answered, stooping down at the bedside. "But I'll be home tonight, I promise."
"But what about the promise to go to Diagon Alley with me today?" Rose pouted even more. "You said we'd go look for a small broom for me and my first set of robes and have ice cream at Florean Fortescue afterwards."
"Oh dear, was that today? I'm so sorry, but I think I must have forgotten it. You know what? Your dad is home today, he's off duty at the moment, so I'm sure he will want to take you to Diagon Alley. And I guess he will even want to give you your first flying lesson as well. And I will make it up to you, I swear... but for now, I'll have to go to work."

Hermione glanced at her watch. She was supposed to be at the Ministry at half past six, and she had only 45 minutes left. Not bothering if she made any noise now, she rushed into her own bedroom. She picked the first white shirt she saw in her wardrobe, put on a black blazer and heels. She couldn't be bothered with makeup now, so she tucked her red lipstick and mascara in the pockets of her jacket and swiftly ran a comb through her unruly curls.

Before going down the stairs, Rose stopped her. "I want a pinky promise... and a goodbye-hug," the girl said, already opening her arms.
Hermione hoisted her up in her arms and swung her a little above her head. "You little monkey, here, pinky promise," she said, holding out her finger.
Rose wrapped her small finger around her mother's and rested her head on her shoulder. "I love you, mummy"
"I love you too, honey." Hermione kissed the soft red curls of her daughter, before putting her back on the ground. "Now, do go back to bed, it's way too early for children to be up. I'll see you tonight, dear. Be good!"

Hermione closed the front door behind her. The fresh, damp morning air greeted her, as well as the rain droplets that blew in her face. She inhaled sharply, exhaled more calmly and Disapparated instantly to the centre of London.

Even though it was quite early in the morning, the city was already full of life. It was mostly people who came and went to work that roamed the streets, huddling in large coats against the streaming wind, hands wrapped around a Starbucks latte macchiato or espresso, depending on the hours they'd been up. In any case, there were enough people about so that Hermione could Apparate freely onto the pavement of one of the main streets without being noticed. She then rounded a few blocks until she came upon the red telephone box that led straight to the Ministry. She stepped inside, glad to be out of the rain. Before typing in the secret code, she checked whether no-one was keeping a curious eye on her. Her fingers easily found the right keys and a voice welcomed her Welcome to the Ministry of Magic as she sank in the floor.

The black marble hall was buzzing with activity. The first time Hermione had come down here, she'd been stunned. The entrance hall had seemed enormous, and she had marvelled at the sight of almost everything that there was to see: the giant statues in the fountain, the wizards entering through the hearths in enwrapped in green flames, the flocks of mail that shot from office window to office window, the owls that flew around, trying to avoid the mail... Now, after nine years of employment, it had become a very ordinary place for her, something which she thought about with a certain melancholy.

Ever since the battle against Lord Voldemort had taken place, Hermione had had the feeling she was left with a hole in her heart. A tiny piece of her was void of happiness, and no matter how hard she tried, this missing puzzle piece coloured her view on things, turning things that were once special and fantastic into a dull or sad grey, just like this black hall. To avoid this particular emotion, she'd fled into her job at the Ministry for months, nay, years on end, building a career and climbing the ladders. Until now. There was nothing to climb to anymore, as she had reached the summit of power, the title of Minister for Magic.

She made for a door on her left. She wasn't paying attention to anything that happened around her, but moved on an automatic pilot instead. That way she didn't notice a man who came from the other side and couldn't evade him in time. With full walking speed, she bumped into him, causing the papers he was holding, to scatter at their feet.

Hermione started to blush in embarrassment, a girlish habit she had not yet been able to change. Immediately, she squatted down and wiped the papers together, while mumbling: "Oh, I'm so terribly sorry, I was in a hurry and I should have looked where I was going."

The man interrupted her, "Don't worry about it, they're just papers, it would have been worse had I held a cup of tea in my hands."

He had a warm, low voice, and it soothed her immensily. It was the kind of sound you just longed to hear early in the morning, the kind of sound that gently brushed your ears from the inside, filling you with a glowing sensation that was bound to erupt in innocent glee.

When she stood up, shuffling the papers to their previous order, she looked him over. Quickly and stealthily. Although she believed looking at him was more nerve-wrecking for her than it was for him, seeing that he wasn't exactly looking at her, but at the floor where his papers had been. He was a tall man with ebony brown hair, that he wore slightly longer than fashion dictated, green-brownish eyes, that had an infinite depth to them, and a rather fair complexion. Those were the first things that caught her eye, apart from his jet-black attire.

"Please," she said, glimpsing at her watch, "do allow me to buy you a tea. I feel bad for knocking you over."

The man finally looked at her and for a second she thought a glimpse of recognition shot across the man's face, as he gasped briefly at the sight of her. Not just the normal kind of recollection, when people saw she was the Minister, but the kind where there had been a deeper connection somehow. She wasn't sure if she imagined it, but it certainly caught him off-guard. He recollected himself in no time, though, and kindly declined her offer, saying he too was in a hurry.

"All right, but I owe you that drink," Hermione said, smiling at him.
"Granted we ever meet again, that is. Now, I'll bid you goodbye, Minister." With a light bow, the man took the papers from her and wheeled around to the nearest fireplace. A whoosh of light green, and he had disappeared.

Hermione looked at her watch once more, she was awfully late for the meeting. Well, awfully late according to the President's standards she thought. Coming up to her office, Nathan Collins, her secretary, hurried straight towards her in big strides, wearing a panicked look on his face.
"Mrs Weasley! Mrs Weas-!" he called through the corridor.
"Not yet, Mr Collins" Hermione said, a little annoyed.
"My sincerest apologies...Miss Granger, but may I point out to you that the President and his Ministers are impatiently waiting for you in the meeting room." The panicked look on his face was translated to his voice, which had become rather squeaky. He gently pushed Hermione to the other end of the corridor.
"I know, I'm late. At what time did he arrive?" Hermione asked, shrugging his hand off her back.
"I don't know the exact time, I wasn't here yet. Miss Wilde had welcomed him, warmly as per usual, I have no doubt. She told me just a minute ago, before I came to fetch you, that he must have been waiting about a quarter now. I suppose it's the time difference that makes him quite cranky?"
"All right, do you have the files? Are the photos from the newspaper articles in place?"
"Yes, here they are, and I double-checked the newspaper cuts. Do you require any other service? Can I send Miss Wilde in with some refreshments?"
"Please, yes, and a very strong coffee for me," Hermione said, before opening the door and stepping inside.

The meeting room wasn't in itself very large, but due to the enchanted window, much like the enchanted ceiling at Hogwarts, that covered the entire back wall, you had the impression of it being a lot more spacious. Almost everything in the room was made of massive wood, and almost everything had the same shade, varying a little bit between dark oak and mahogany. So the beauty of it was to be found in the details, such as the gold leaf ornamentations on the top rails of the chairs, or the intricate pattern that was painted on the surface of the table, or the small Victorian lights that were hanging from the walls.

Closing the door behind her, Hermione could see that all the chairs were occupied by men and women in suits. Some of them were leafing through papers, others were busying themselves with some writing, but it was all done in utter silence. One man was standing in front of the enchanted window, hands locked behind his back, and from what little she could see in the reflection of the window, he was scowling and very irritated.

"Mr Redford, excuse me for my lateness, but I was held up this morning," Hermione said, walking up to her spot at the head of the table and putting her things down.
"How unfortunate. It occurred to me that you might have forgotten my visit," Mr Redford said, still not facing her, "so this meeting better be worth the wait. Now, let us begin," he suddenly turned around and seated himself at the right of Hermione.
"Right you are, on the agenda today is," Hermione began.
"Mr Brisley, tell me what is on the agenda today," Mr Redford interrupted, waving vaguely at one of his men. Hermione's mouth fell open a bit and she was speechless.
The man called Brisley cleared his throat, fiddled with his glasses and said: "The political situation in both America and Great Britain, the economic situation and a war pact, sir."
"Yes, we can go through that pretty easily, first the political situation. Miss Wraith, if you please" Mr Redford said, glancing briefly at Hermione with a grin on his lips.

"There's been a lot going on in the States, especially amongst the no-maj population, and it's generally bad things. Floods of immigrants from Latin-America and other places, the poor gradually hitting rock-bottom, low-quality education in some states, and on top of that a president who hasn't accomplished anything yet of what he promised since his election. Conclusion, the people are stirring, and I've been reported that there are anti-wizardinggroups rising, claiming that it's us, wizards and witches, that are the real cause of all the ill luck."

She paused for a minute, inhaling deeply and loudly. Then she continued in one breath, "Because of this er... peculiar president, MACUSA and the White House aren't on talking terms right now, which is, of course, a considerable problem seeing that these anti-wizardinggroups might pose a threat to us in the future."

The president licked his lips, and said, "So that was the political situation, and now the economics. Mr Sharpe?"

"As Miss Wraith already mentioned, the economic situation is dire at the moment. It's the same old story, really, the rich are too rich, the poor are too poor. But what most concerns me most about this, however, is the fact that our business with the no-majes, due to these anti-wizardinggroups and due to poverty, is going down. You know, the whole entertainment industry. Either people are taking a stance against magic etc. or they don't have the means to fully immerse themselves in the magic."

"That's what I had to say about that, not let's us continue with the war pact, shall we? Mr Latimer, you prepared the conditions?" While saying this, the president stood up and began to pace around the meeting room.

At this point, Hermione's head was spinning, and the president's ways rubbed her the wrong way. But the fact that muggles were starting to protest at the other side of the Atlantic as well was worrying her too, and they would both need each other's support to address this. The president's attitude, however, really made Hermione want to reconsider her willingness to cooperate.

"Mr President? If I may? Miss Wraith was talking about these people possibly threatening the wizarding community. I've received similar news lately. Could you elaborate a bit more on the nature of these groups? Are they actively planning something? Or are they just spreading rumours? Do you think there is a link between the different groups, could they be working together? And are there familiar faces amongst these groups?" Hermione asked, leaning back a bit and crossing her arms.
"Mrs Wraith?" Mr Redford said, nodding at her again.
"We have our suspicions, but it is still to early to make statements. And a specialised team of Aurors is now looking into it, this very moment."

After this short intervention, Mr Latimer began rattling off his list regarding the war pact. The content of the conditions was incredibly superfluous to Hermione's opinion and most of it seemed to be in absolute favour of MACUSA. She was no longer listening attentively, and her thoughts wandered elsewhere, back to the man she'd run into earlier. Thinking about him made her feel a little bit guilty. No, it wasn't just recalling his face that felt so wrong, it was the faint tickle deep in her stomach that came with it. There was something about this man, something she couldn't quite identify, that made her feel intrigued. Maybe it was his deep voice, or maybe his unreadable features?

"Miss Granger?" Mr Redford's voice called her back to the meeting.
"Er... yes. You were saying?"
Mr Redford arched an eyebrow and looked displeased. "The war pact? Are you going to sign it? Do you agree with the conditions laid out by Mr Latimer."
He was scrutinising her, leaning a little into her, his hands placed firmly on the table. Hermione merely smiled politely and said, "About that, Mr President. I haven't made up my mind yet, and I think it best to postpone my answer on your proposition. If you leave your notes with my secretary, I will discuss this thoroughly this afternoon with my own panel of Ministers and make sure to send our decision this evening by owl," Hermione said, her tone all professional.
"Disgraceful!" he exclaimed.
"Disgraceful?"
"I've already talked this over with your Ministers, if this your way of saying you don't want this partnership. This, Miss Granger, is one-time offering."
"Mr President, I did not say nor insinuated such a thing. I think a bit of fresh air would do you good. This meeting is over." Hermione stood up, extending her hand. Mr Redford did not shake it, but merely snorted and gave a sign with his hand to dismiss his ministers.
Before leaving himself, the president said, "May I kindly jog your memory, Miss Granger? America's proven a far better associate than an enemy."
"I remember, Mr Redford, thank you for your precious time."

"Merlin's pants, that man looked heated," Nathan said, coming in after the men.
"No comment, Mr Collins. Would you be so kind to defer all my activities this afternoon and assemble the council? It's going to be a long day."