Chapter 1

A ringing sound greeted Hermione Granger's ears as she awoke that morning, and she clapped her hand on top of her alarm clock to silence it. She never usually had problems waking up at the correct time, but she had an important meeting at the Ministry that morning and it would be highly unprofessional to be late. In addition to this, she'd not had much sleep, having prepared thoroughly for it, and consequently, felt a little lethargic, in contrast to her usual cheerful self.

She sauntered into the bathroom and brushed her teeth, taking care to floss; her mother and father had instilled it into her from an early age. They'd been delighted when she'd bought them an entire box of Toothflossing Stringmints one Christmas, as only dentists could be.

She hopped into the shower and allowed the hot water to cascade down her back; it gave her the opportunity to plan what she would say in this meeting. The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, in which Hermione had been working for the past six months, was in desperate need of money to continue the projects which Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister for Magic, had asked them to do. Other departments had needed the money more than hers; although, she thought, weren't the rights of magical creatures just as imperative?

She'd written pages of notes in her tiny writing to justify why her department needed the money and just hoped that she could remember them all when she got to the meeting. It was to be between herself, Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank, the Head of her Department and Kingsley. However, she felt no fear in speaking to Kingsley; she recalled the time when they'd shared a Thestral flying from Privet Drive, and he'd reassured her just with the calmness of his voice and his smile.

Stepping out of the shower, she groped blindly on the windowsill for her wand, and cast a drying charm on herself, before Summoning her robes from her bedroom and dressing.

As she walked back through to her bedroom, she heard a twittering sound and looked up; a tiny grey fluffy ball of feathers was hopping up and down on her windowsill.

"Pig," she muttered, half in exasperation and half in amusement; he must have a message for her. She opened the window and Pigwidgeon flew in, twittering in excitement and circling Hermione's head before hopping onto her shoulder, holding out his leg for her to retrieve the note tied to his leg. As soon as she had untied it, he was off again, hooting and flying around the room. She laughed and unrolled the parchment; she recognised the writing as Ginny's.

Hope it all goes well at the Ministry today. Harry says if he gets chance, he'll meet you for lunch.

Ginny x

"Come back, I need you to take this to Ginny," said Hermione, as she made a grab for Pig, who showed no sign of slowing down. She grabbed a quill from her dressing table and scrawled a reply.

Thanks, will let you know how it goes. Tell Harry I'll meet him on Level Two.

Hermione x

She attached the parchment to Pig's leg and set him on the windowsill to return to Ginny. Twittering excitedly, he flew off, and Hermione glanced at the clock on the wall.

"Never mind looking, you'll be late!" barked the clock.

"Just let me do the worrying, thank you," said Hermione, irritably. Worrying was about right; she couldn't do anything but. The knot of unease twisted in her stomach and she wondered what would happen if Kingsley decided that he couldn't justify giving them any more funding. Her boss would be fine, but Hermione had only been working at the Ministry for a few months. Technically, she was dispensable. They could manage without her. She had every confidence that she could tackle most jobs, but she could not deny the passion she had for protecting the rights of Magical Creatures.

She decided to skip breakfast, and went to stand in front of the mirror, performing her usual charms to apply make-up and tame her hair.

"Bee-yoo-tiful," said the mirror approvingly. "And who are you trying to impress?"

"You know, I really don't need this right now," snapped Hermione, and turning on the spot, Apparated to the Ministry.

Hermione hurried down the corridor from her office, and slowed to a halt as she reached the lifts, the golden grilles gleaming in the enchanted sunlight; evidently, the Magical Maintenance department were happy under the leadership of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

The grilles on the lift in front of her clattered open and she stepped inside. With a crash, the grilles closed again and the lift began to move upwards. The familiar female voice spoke as the lift jangled and bumped upwards.

"Level One, Minister for Magic and Support Staff."

The grilles opened and Hermione stepped out, ducking to avoid the paper aeroplanes that had zoomed in. She glanced at her watch; she had a few minutes before the meeting started.

"Ah, good morning, Hermione."

Hermione looked up to see a middle-aged, grey-haired witch walking towards her; her boss, Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank.

"Morning," said Hermione. "I've made some notes for the meeting, reasons why we need extra funding. For example, I was looking at the project we suggested about Hippogriffs, and also the training of wizards on the handling of Grindylows and other water creatures. And we need to do something about-"

"I've heard from the Administration office that funding is extremely tight," interrupted Wilhelmina. "Much tighter than anybody is letting on." She placed her hand on Hermione's arm. "I wouldn't expect a lot, dear."

Hermione set her mouth firmly. "I won't take no for an answer."

Wilhelmina smiled. "Spoken like a Gryffindor." She gestured to the meeting room. "Shall we? I think Kingsley is waiting."

They made their way into the meeting room, where, as Wilhelmina had said, Kingsley was sitting. He stood up, a good six inches taller than Hermione. He was wearing purple robes, and sported his usual gold earring. Despite Hermione's misgivings, she could not help but return the smile that Kingsley gave.

"Hermione. Wilhelmina." He nodded at both women and gestured to the chairs in front of him. "Shall we make a start?"

The two women sat, on the same side of the table, showing unity. Hermione knew how important it was to persuade Kingsley of their cause.

"I called this meeting to discuss the funding for your department," said Kingsley, and handed a sheet of parchment to Hermione and Wilhelmina. "You've probably heard that less money is available to the Ministry this year, due to a decrease in the amount of benefactors. While that is a concern, it is also a relief to know that we won't be operating with the money of known Death Eaters."

Hermione couldn't help but agree; there had been a certain irony in the fact that Lucius had been funding this place illicitly for many years during his allegiance to a man who had wanted to bring the Ministry down.

"I've been trying to juggle the figures," he continued, "and I'm afraid, there's only one way of keeping the Department afloat."

"Well, I daresay we could cut the project on the importation of-" began Hermione, but Kingsley stopped her mid-flow, raising his large hand slightly to quiet her.

"It's not just a case of stopping several projects, Hermione," he said. "We can't afford to employ two people in the Department at this moment in time. For that reason, I'm afraid your post will no longer exist."

Hermione stared at Kingsley in shock; despite being warned that this was going to happen from many different sources, she had chosen to bury her head in the sand and decide that it couldn't happen to her, she was too efficient, too good at her job. She had never imagined this though; she and Wilhelmina had been convinced that a reduction in hours and number of projects would have been enough.

"I...well, what...permanently?" gabbled Hermione, her mind whirling with mundane thoughts such as rent payments, subscriptions to professional bodies, what she would do with herself day after day, holed up in her flat.

"For the foreseeable future, yes," said Kingsley. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I know it's not the answer you want. I can try and speak to somebody in another department..." His voice trailed off.

Hermione, much to her annoyance, felt her cheeks colouring and tears prickling at the back of her eyes. She couldn't start crying in a meeting, for Merlin's sake! It wasn't the done thing for a young woman of eighteen. All thoughts of 'not taking no for an answer' had been cast aside.

"Don't worry," she assured Kingsley, gathering her papers and shuffling them unnecessarily. "I'll...er...find something...keep looking in the Prophet..."

"If a job comes up," said Kingsley, looking Hermione straight in the eyes, "you'll be the first to know."

"I...thank you," faltered Hermione, and backed away from the table, knocking her chair over. "Oh...I'm sorry...I didn't...oh, goodness..."

"Hermione-" began Kingsley, but Hermione waved her hand dismissively, feeling the tears coming to her eyes again and knowing that she needed to leave before she burst into tears.

"I'll clear my desk," she said, hastily, and hurried out of the room and along the corridor to the lift. Once inside, she leant her head against the wall and allowed herself to sob weakly, tears streaming down her cheeks. She chided herself for being so pathetic about the whole thing; there were other jobs. But she loved her job; it was an area she'd always been passionate about, and she knew she'd done a good job on the projects she'd worked on. It was down to her that Salamanders were now a protected magical species, and that numbers had increased due to this.

'Level Four, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, incorporating Beast, Being and Spirit Divisions, Goblin Liaison Office and the Pest Advisory Bureau.'

The grilles slid open and Hermione hurried out, keeping her head inclined so as to hide her tear-stained face. She just wanted to clear her desk and go home, perhaps to drown her sorrows in some redcurrant rum.

However, she hadn't accounted for her lunchtime rendezvous with Harry, and as she entered the office she shared with Wilhelmina, Harry's face peered from around the side of her cubicle.

"Merlin's beard!" she gasped, stopping in her tracks. "Don't do that, you gave me a fright."

"Constant vigilance," said Harry with a grin, something he often said as a sort of tribute to Mad-Eye Moody. "Seriously, how did it go?"

Hermione sighed and picked up her work bag, sweeping papers from her desk into it.

"That bad?"

She said nothing, and continued to clear her desk, opening drawers and pulling out all manner of objects. Harry watched as she threw paperweights, pens, pictures and heavy reference books into her diminutive handbag.

"I've heard that women can fit a lot in their handbags, but I'm guessing this is one of your Extension Charms?" he said, jokingly.

Hermione sighed and paused in her packing. "I suppose I was ready for this. I cast the charm last night, just in case I needed it. Turns out I was right."

"There'll be other jobs," said Harry, reassuringly. "What about Gringotts? You always were good at Arithmancy."

"Not challenging enough."

"Oh. Healer at St Mungo's?"

"The training takes too long."

"What about-"

"Just stop." Hermione could feel herself becoming tearful and tense. "Look, I'll find something."

"Hermione, I'm just trying to help, okay?" Harry touched her arm reassuringly. Something in the gesture caused anger to rise up in Hermione, and she turned to Harry, eyes flashing.

"It's okay for you!" she cried. "You just walk into a job that was made for you with a good wage, while I had to fight for this right from the start, and now I've got no job, no money and no way of paying the rent. I..." She broke off, pressing her hand to her mouth to suppress her sobs, feeling the tears wet beneath her fingers.

Harry put his arms around her, and Hermione sobbed weakly into his shoulder, feeling pathetic for doing so. She felt awful for snapping at her friend and here he was, still there to support her. She felt like a complete bitch.

"You must be starving," he said, releasing her and surveying her pale face. "Let's go and get some lunch from Diagon Alley. There's a new cafe bar with some fantastic food."

Hermione smiled weakly; food wasn't exactly on her list of priorities at the moment. The list was more likely to comprise alcohol, wallowing in self-pity and finding a job, and preferably in that order. However, she smiled at Harry, allowed him to take hold of her arm and with a fleeting glance around her old workspace, closed the door on this particular chapter of her life.