Summary: Hermione's job is put at risk when her supervisor discovers her covert activities. While trying to free herself from his power, she gets caught in an accident which causes her to question who she really is and what life is really about.
After Wizarding Britain's second civil war, the Ministry had quite a bit of clean-up to do. The building had been ravaged, but that was the least of their concerns. They had to organize rehabilitation for homes and public property. They had to regain the trust of the public. And of course, they had to remove the despicable "Magic is Might" statue. There were murmurs about memorializing Harry Potter, to honor his tremendous feat, but the Minister did not want Wizarding Britain's most adored person constantly seen in the Ministry. Nor did he want a representation of every person lost in the war, as another suggested. It would be too depressing for a workplace. But either of those things, Hermione thought, would have been better then what they decided on. The middle of the atrium now depicted a large skull, which looked like it was in pain, being ridden by a man in a red robe. The man (presumably an Auror) had a sword, which he was stabbing into the eye socket of the skull. A snake rose from the mouth of the skull, and was being strangled in the Auror's other hand. It could have been a good statue, but the sculptor had made the skull so grotesque it looked comical. The Auror, on the other hand was meant to look menacing, but somehow managed to look constipated. But nothing could compare to the ridiculousness of the snake. Its head was disproportionately big compared to its body, making it look…by major consensus…a large sperm being strangled by an Auror.
"Hermione!" A shout distracted Hermione from marveling at the ridiculous design. She turned around and saw Acacia Plied, the head secretary of the DMLE calling to her. As the immaculately dressed witch approached, Hermione wondered if there was some plausible excuse that would allow her to escape. Since the beginning of Hermione's employment, Plied had been a hardass; she criticized all her work, reprimanded her constantly, and seemed to take inordinate pleasure in writing Hermione up. Not that she didn't deserve it. Hermione was usually unable to properly do her work. And when she actually competed the work, it was shoddy at best. Hermione had explained to her boss that she wouldn't be able to keep her position at the DMLE if her work didn't improve, and so the UDI (Unspeakable Department of Information) just a few days ago had found her an assistant that would be secretly working as her. Her assistant did not usually need to come in, as a lot of what Hermione was responsible for was reports, but had a steady supply of Polyjuice and hair just in case.
But it was a Monday, and Hermione's current mission didn't need her on Mondays, so Hermione was the one stuck in the Ministry, having to deal with Acacia Plied. Hermione sighed and prepared to be berated as Plied drew closer.
"Good morning, Ms. Plied. How are you?" Hermione asked. It was always good to be overly polite when you knew you were about to be given a dressing down.
"I am just fine, Ms. Granger." Plied smoothed down the front of her robe and adjusted her glasses. "I caught up with you because Mr. Munch would like to speak with you."
Hermione's stomach dropped. Why did the Head of the DMLE want to speak with her? She nodded and gestured for Plied to lead the way. As she walked to the elevator, Hermione tried to figure out what could have happened in the few days she had been gone. Had her assistant been discovered? Had she gotten Hermione in trouble? Hermione frowned and tried to calm her heart. Though she felt very agitated, no one would have known by looking at her. Keeping composure had been a lesson Auror training had taught her.
After a harrowing elevator ride, and some useless small talk with Plied, Hermione finally arrived at Munch's office. Hoping she wasn't about to be fired, Hermione walked in.
Munch was a thin, shrewd man with blond hair and brown eyes. When she walked in, he smiled.
"Ms. Granger. Take a seat" Hermione gingerly sat in the uncomfortable chair in front of his desk. "Do you know why you are here?"
"If this is about my reports, I'm really sorry. I'll try to do better, just please don't fire me!" Munch looked at her with a peculiar expression.
"What? No this has nothing to do with your reports. I just called you in here to commend you on the incredible work you have done with us. I think, and your supervisors agree, that you deserve a promotion."
What? Hermione smiled uncertainly. He was trying to give her a promotion? Was he kidding? It would be a pretty stupid joke if he was. Maybe he meant to call in someone else? Could her assistant really have made such a difference that in three days they were trying to promote her?
"Er- well thank you. But could I ask why? Not that I don't appreciate it, but surely there are others in the office who deserve a promotion more than I."
"There is no one else who we believe could do a better job at this position."
"What position?" Hermione asked suspiciously. Maybe they were trying to make her a letter enchanter or something.
"Why, we would like to you be the public liaison for the Department! I am sure you are honored to receive such an offer. Now, are you available to start the transition today? I'm afraid your training will have to be quick as our previous liaison is leaving soon."
Hermione frowned as she tried to discern what was going on. The DMLE wanted to make her a public liaison. It was an important job and her track record was definitely not good enough to earn her such a promotion. They were probably trying to use her popularity to bring more approval. Either that, or someone had gone crazy. Not only was the promotion unfair, but also impossible for her to take. The last thing she needed was more cameras and scrutiny. Under that pressure, even her assistant might not hold up.
"I'm afraid I have to refuse, Mr. Munch." Hermione watched as Munch's whole face seemed to frown. It was quite disturbing.
"Are you sure about that, Ms. Granger? Would you like some time to reflect on your choices?"
"No, thank you. I really like the job I currently have." Munch shifted in his seat. He leaned forward, his fore arms resting on the table as he leaned towards her.
"I'm going to be honest with you Ms. Granger. You are not doing a very good job in the position you currently hold. Besides, you would do very well with this new opportunity. If I recall, you deal very effectively with the press." Hermione looked hard at Munch, wondering if he was hinting to her escapades with Skeeter. No one but Harry and Ron had known about how she dealt with Rita, and Hermione was surprised Munch would even bring it up if he had somehow found out. It was just as bad to hide a crime as it was to commit it, and Hermione had blackmailed Skeeter. If anything, she would have expected Munch to arrest her rather than just imply that he knew.
"What do you want? Just tell me." Hermione was not in the mood for puzzles.
"Well Ms. Granger, to put it simply, I want a pretty prettyfier. I need someone the public trusts to explain our actions in a publicly acceptable way. There are some current cases we have that could get pretty ugly, and we want our Aurors protected from public censure. There is nothing that induces guilt like a mob telling you how horrible your actions were. You are perfect for the job."
"I figured it was something like that. I'm afraid I can't take the job."
"Are you sure you want to do that Ms. Granger?" Munch reached into his desk and pulled out a large white envelope. In it, was a vial with a swirling white mist—a memory. Or rather, many memories. "Please, look at this vial. There is a pensieve right there," he said, pointing to the side of his desk.
Hermione was getting angry and frustrated. "Just tell me what you have Munch. What could I have possibly done that is so horrible it will force me to go along with your will?"
"You'll see, won't you?" asked Munch. Hermione eyed the Head of the DMLE, with distrust growing in her stomach.
"Only if you come with me," said Hermione. "No way I'm leaving my unguarded body to your mercy." Munch smiled and nodded as he got out of his chair. He smugly poured in the memory into the pensieve. When the memories were swirling in the bowl, Hermione locked on Munch's eyes refusing to go in first. Finally, Munch smirked and lowered his head. Hermione followed.