Hermione Granger sat down in the meeting room, the silence of the Ministry almost as hypnotic as the Hogwarts library. Everything was as she'd requested it to be when Kingsley Shacklebolt had asked her if she would 'help out' with some of the extra work. But she was no fool; she knew that he was aware of her financial situation, and she knew it was Harry Potter that had shared that delicate piece of information with him.
But there was no denying the fact that she needed the money. She no longer had the tent to live in, her magical beaded bag (with the excellent undetectable extension charm) had been destroyed in Hogwarts and she had only about twenty-six pounds in muggle money to her name.
She looked at the mauve coloured files and the big stack of Azkaban orders in front of her. It was her job to go through all of these and check the names against property deeds, and the un-sold or abandoned properties listing. What was she doing? Looking for abandoned house elves, and confiscating house elves from all Death Eater properties. This was just one of the decrees made by the new Minister for Magic; a redistribution of recourses, righting of wrongs and the resurrection of the wizarding world.
Hermione hadn't wanted to be on the frontline, or in the spotlight; she wanted to help, but from the privacy of a meeting room, or her room, or doing the grunt work, like visiting Death Eater owned properties.
So for a few hours everyday, Hermione would be working through the files and compiling a list of properties to investigate, and a list of properties to visit, in order to confiscate house elves. There were also plans for rehabilitation, and Hermione wanted to write a new law, whereby house elves had to be given the opportunity to choose freedom once a year. She hadn't mentioned this to Shacklebolt, but she hoped she'd have the opportunity.
This work was therapeutic in the way that data entry work could be calming to the mind; quietening the thoughts and making room for some simplistic peace.
The fact was, Hermione Granger 'the brightest witch of her age' and a war hero was not having that great a time. It had been just over three months since the battle of Hogwarts and nothing had changed for her. She was still without family, a home, NEWTs or a love life. She was watching small sprouts of happiness form around her, but none blossomed in her own heart.
Her parents were dead-
"Don't think about that!" she said out loud, now looking around the meeting room suspiciously.
Her boyfriend hated her-
"He's not even my boyfriend…" Hermione murmured furiously to herself, focusing again on the stacks on the table.
The truth was, Ron Weasley was angry. He was angry with the world for letting his brother die, he was angry with her because she had defended Draco Malfoy in his trial, albeit unenthusiastically, and he was angry whenever anyone experienced happiness from his loss and sacrifice. She couldn't blame him, and in most ways she shared his feelings, but she couldn't help telling the truth at the trial she'd had no say so in being a part of. She'd been under oath for merlin's sake!
She stamped 'deceased' angrily on Bellatrix Lestrange's file, and moved it across to the checked pile, thinking again of her death and those moments up close and personal with her in Malfoy Manor.
The thing was, Draco Malfoy had only very reluctantly admitted she was who she was, and was even less enthusiastic about giving Harry up. She knew he was a conceited, arrogant arsehole, but she would never forget the look of regret and shame he had worn as she writhed around in agony in front of him. It was in her dreams every night, though by now she was starting to question how much of that was true. Time didn't lend clarity, it lent confusion to her thoughts and dreams.
She looked down at her work, knowing she couldn't concentrate anymore; she'd made her way through around ten files, most with multiple property listings, though she knew that these were just the tip of the iceberg for most of them.
Getting up, she pushed her chair under the table neatly, and locking the door behind her as she left the solitude of the meeting room Shacklebolt had given her when she'd refused an office and a full time position.
The good thing about Saturday's, she mused, was that there were fewer people about, and less people to stare, or for some bizarre reason, to come up to her and thank her. She hated that she no longer was just the bushy haired friend of Harry Potter, she longed for the days when all she'd received was some hate mail and letters filled with bubotuber puss.
Making her way down in the lift and out at the ground floor, she walked as quietly as possible through the entrance hall of the Ministry, conscious of her foot steps, and remembering how Ron's exclamations had echoed so much in the cavernous space that she'd gotten a headache from it.
**Flashback**
"I just can't fucking believe you Hermione-" Ron shouted.
"-What did you think I would do? Lie? Did you honestly expect me to lie because of some school yard rivalry-"
"Rivalry? Rivalry? He is a Death Eater Hermione! He-"
"He was underage when that happened- they proved that through the charm diagnostic! He's been acquitted of that-" Hermione shouted back.
"He stood by and did NOTHING when Bellatrix tortured you! You could have DIED and he just fucking watched- and now you defend him?" Ron looked at her in disgust, and she didn't think she'd ever get him to calm down. Harry stood between them, practically radiating disapproval.
"I know what happened to me Ron! I was there, remember? And I know what I saw, and so does Harry!" she crossed her arms, including them both in her anger.
"But he didn't lie about anything- you did!" Ron threw her one last look of disgust, before turning to the nearest fireplace and floo-ing back to the Burrow. Hermione sighed, letting her arms fall to her side.
"I've had enough of always getting the blame- you told the Wizenagamot practically the same thing, and he's not shouting at you!"
"I know Hermione… I don't know what to tell you. You know he's angry at everyone, and he'll shout at me when we get back, and then Ginny will too…" Harry sighed, stepping towards the fireplace Ron had just used. He gestured towards Hermione, but she nodded at him to go first and made motions as though preparing to use the next fireplace.
The flame returned to its normal height and colour in the fireplace Harry had just used, and she threw floo-powder into the next one, stepping in and stating clearly, "Diagon Alley"
She tripped out of the fireplace, almost colliding with a wizard clearly in the middle of repairing the old pub. Hermione looked around her, spotting three more of the same team, using a variety of cleaning spells and beautifying enchantments. Before they could stop her or notice who she was, she weaved her way through them and out into the little courtyard, tapping the correct brick and watching the bricks unfold and reform themselves into an archway. This was the first time she had been to Diagon Alley since the three of them had broken into Gringotts and then escaped on an old dragon. She shook her head, wondering if she would ever be truly forgiven by the Goblins that worked in the bank, especially enough to let her open a vault there.
She headed for the nearest café, wanting to people watch and hide from Harry when he inevitably came to find her…
**End of Flashback**
Hermione looked back on that day with regret, knowing that Ron still felt that same anger with her, over a month later. She approached the fireplace, and threw a handful of floo powder in, stepping into the tickling flames and saying clearly "Diagon Alley"
She stepped out a little more gracefully than usual, and looked around herself, the dingy old Leaky Cauldron had been transformed into somewhere clean and stylish and all together far more pleasant. She'd read in the Prophet that Tom, the wizened old landlord had died during the Battle of Hogwarts, under decidedly mysterious circumstances, as well as a heart attack. Now the pub had been bought and done up, though she didn't know who the owner was.
But she didn't linger, she made for her usual route into Diagon Alley, and found that they'd cleaned the brickwork and had a planter with roses decorating the small courtyard. She laughed, unable to stop herself. She'd never met a pub landlord with such good taste.
But her real task, which had been pressing on her for the last week, was a trip to the beloved bookshop in Diagon Alley, Flourish and Blotts. As she walked quickly down the cobble stoned street, anxious to get to the book shop and see what kind of state it was now in, she felt eyes on her. This was why she had turned down all offers of autobiographies, stories and radio interviews so far, she hated the idea of creating more attention.
Breathing a sigh of relief, she reached the bookshop, and felt almost tearful as she took in the window display of back-to-school books. It was back to normal, and maybe she would be too. She stepped inside, fishing through her handbag for the book list Professor McGonagall had sent. Hermione was surrounded by a fairly modest crowd of mothers, buying up the required books and equipment for their children to return to Hogwarts, each of them wearing mingled expressions of relief and anxiety.
A clerk nodded to Hermione, and she moved towards the back of the store, avoiding eye contact as much as possible, and lingering in the Divination section where the clerk had nodded towards.
"Hi, we had an owl from Hogwarts asking us to put aside your books, there's quite a few though!" the young man laughed, "what address shall I send them to?" he walked them both over to a small counter, unmanned whilst the other clerks dealt with the high volume of purchases from the mothers.
"Oh, umm… can I write it down?" Hermione grabbed a slip of parchment and the handy quill next to the stack and scribbled down the address, feeling foolish and paranoid for doing so, but equally as serious about protecting herself from gossips and reporters.
The young man looked up at Hermione, surprise and confusion gracing his somewhat handsome face.
"Yes- that's the right address, can I pay you?" Hermione said hurriedly, hoping he wouldn't say it out loud.
"Oh no, Professor McGonagall already paid us, in fact, she paid for all of the students re-taking education" he smiled at her, clearly on the point of gushing and she knew she had to make her escape. She felt incredibly warm and was starting to sweat. She needed to get back.
"Thank you very much" she said as calmly as she could, smiling and backing away as politely as was possible, before walking around the line for the cashiers, and exiting the store. Walking around the corner, she apparated immediately, closing her eyes and focusing on her destination.
As her feet landed on gravel, she heaved in a lungful of air, letting her shoulders relax as she looked up at the lacklustre sign for The Hogs Head.