Yep, it's another Dramione from me... How unexpected, eh? I will be carrying on with 'Not Again, Granger', I've just spent the majority of my summer working and so have not have any chance to write – I've been exhausted as soon as I've got home. However, this little idea hit me the other day on the bus, and I actually missed my stop trying to get it all down on my iPod. This won't be an angst-filled story, as I have plenty of that going on in my life right now, and I'm pretty sure you all know how much I enjoy my bad attempts at humour. Hope you enjoy:-)
Little did Hermione Granger know that one moment and a slightly dubious-looking tissue would end up changing her life. She had never been one for clichés, but there didn't appear to be any other way to put it.
Hermione had just stepped into the toilets of a new cafe in Diagon Alley, 'Cramoisi Fleurir'. Recommended by a slightly sleep-deprived Ginny, it intended to be French- as was evident by the name and the decor - but it was most definitely lacking somewhat, with the waiters' 'accents' not assisting in her evaluation. To put it lightly, she wasn't in a good mood at all. All she'd wanted was one blueberry muffin before she started back in on her shopping. Not a delightful pastime for her to begin with, this merely irritated her to no end. Her return to London had been anything but peaceful with multiple persons dogging her everywhere she went- whether it was for an interview, an autograph, or merely to demand why she was no longer dating the youngest male Weasley. Pretty much simple to say, she wasn't having too great a time.
Her first meeting with Harry since her return also hadn't gone quite as smoothly as either party had hoped. The outcome was entirely influenced by the fact that after Voldemort's demise, the ministry had felt it pertinent to place tracking devices on all muggleborns, apparently in case of any untoward behaviour following the war. The ministry believed, for some incomprehensible reason, that muggleborns would either desire revenge or that they indeed thought themselves higher than their station. It suffices to say, a world without Voldemort wasn't as peaceful and relaxing as previously thought. No one truly knew how the law had passed, but muggleborns were to be monitored at all times, courtesy of the new minister of magic.
Speaking of the new minister of magic, it turned out that there had been a few different appointments as minister since Rufus Scrimgeour's unfortunate demise (the true circumstances of it was never published, though many of the die-hard romantics believed it was due to unrequited love, whilst the more 'cup half-empty' lot thought it to be due to a drug deal gone wrong). The latest minister, however, was most definitely a nomination done on popularity rather than any potential or actual talent for running the magical world.
This minister in question, from reports made by a few close friends of Hermione, appeared to be more concerned with the decor and coffee-making abilities of his office and staff rather than how the economy was faring. Harry, ever the optimist, had started declaring that 'when the fate of the country depends on how well you can make a cappuccino, that's about the time that you should gather up your bags and experiment with cliff diving'. The purebloods of the group didn't quite catch onto the extra-curricular activity Harry was describing, though they certainly got the gist of it from his tone.
At the close of the war, Hermione had made an impulsive decision to take some time out in the south of France to recuperate. During that time, Harry had told her plenty of stories about Ron's latest conquests. Much to her dislike, the so-called 'golden trio' appeared to be drawing apart. She and Harry had remained in close contact the entirety of her time away, but apart from a few short letters from Ron in the beginning, she hadn't heard from him since. Fame was truly going to the boy's head, and no small attempts from his family to ground him helped in the slightest. Through Harry, she had a pretty comprehensive idea of the happenings in Wizarding London. Ginny had joined a small Quidditch team close to the apartment that she and Harry had bought, though rather quickly, unsurprisingly to most, had found herself carrying their first child. That number had now doubled. Harry himself, after beginning a career at the ministry and deciding it wasn't the path for him, was much to the surprise of Hermione currently undergoing an apprenticeship at Hogwarts to become the next DADA teacher once Professor Mossleworth retired. They had managed to find a replacement teacher after the war, but the rather decrepit ex-Auror didn't appear to have much time left. All that having being said, Hermione had chosen to remain in France and had chanced upon the opportunity to apply for a course in mediwizardry at a renowned Wizarding hospital. It was three years later that she had returned to London after the strong advice from Harry that she do. It was now apparent why he had wanted her to know the news in person.
'So you're meaning, and let me run this past you one last time to ensure we haven't got any of this wrong... I can't even go to the toilet without some revolting ministry assistant being aware?! That self-satisfied, conceited, arrogant pig! I should've known he would try something like this!'
Harry kept his distance, aware that his dear friend could possibly manage to implode at any time. Over the years, he had learnt that it was far wiser to just stay silent and nod at times like these.
"How did the law even pass?! No sane jury should ever let some ridiculous notion from an over-paid lunatic go through! Ugh, I can't even begin to attempt to work out what was going through their minds!"
Three days later, in the toilets of the positively delightful new restaurant she was acquainting herself with, Hermione was still coming to terms with how life had irrevocably changed for her. On a rather more than mildly irritating twist, with the difference in government, it turned out that if she'd just stayed in France, she wouldn't have to be monitored. Now she had returned, however, it was futile to resist it. Hermione couldn't bring herself to blame Harry for that, though she was constantly coming up with ways in which to take out her frustrations on the man to blame for it all.
They should have thrown a party, shouted it off the rooftops... They had found something that Hermione couldn't puzzle out, something that she didn't understand. Though to be honest, how Ron Weasley became Minister baffled everyone at the time and still continues to do so to this day.
Apologies for the amount of narrative in the chapter versus the amount of dialogue, but as you hopefully can tell it's more of an introduction-type thing than anything else. As soon as this is uploaded, I'll be working away on the next chapter so that hopefully it can be uploaded later today if you all are interested. The next chapter will bring the entrance of the rather dubious-looking tissue... ;-)
This is written by me, with no beta, so any mistakes in it are entirely my own. It appears to be difficult to find mistakes in your own story... Personally, I seem to like to just fill in with what I know should be there instead and ignore the fact that it's wrong. Also, I've broken the 'g' key on my laptop, so it's about a 50/50 chance that one will come out when I hit the key. So if there are suddenly any missing in an odd place, that explains why. I do think I've caught them all... The title will be be explained at a later date, so if you fancy sticking around.. You'll find out why it's titled this;-)
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter:-)