(Part 1)

"I said no Ms. Granger. There's absolutely no way we can fit this into next year's agenda. With the budget the way it is and the state of affairs in our infrastructure and peace-keeping efforts there is just no room for a non-pressing initiative…"

"But, sir, that's the entire point! If we don't prioritize this first it will never become a pressing issue and with all due respect, riding off of the current momentum towards change, this could be the best possible time for such…"

"Ms. Granger, it's absolutely not feasible!"

"Well, if we could take some of the funding out of our Law Enforcement programs and restrict Department of Mysteries budget a bit…"

"HA. I would be shocked if even 10% of the population got behind those cuts. That's political suicide. After the war, the people need to feel safe above all else and there is nothing that will make them feel less safe than cutting funds for our Law Enforcement. Ridiculous."

"Sir, if you look at the statistics there is an overwhelming amount of fiscal waste in these departments and it wouldn't actually make anyone less safe! This is so important, Mr. McLaggen these magical beings have been waiting for hundreds of years for legal equality!"

"That's quite enough, Ms. Granger!" This sentence echoed through the room like a clap of thunder, causing me to almost imperceptibly wince. My boss relished in the newfound silence. There was a moment's twinkle of anger in his piercing green eyes as he stared me down. His broad shoulders began to swell as he opened his mouth to speak in that round and deep politician's voice, "Now, I know you're a bright young witch. My nephew Cormac has attested to your talent and intelligence on multiple occasions and since coming to work in my office, I must admit, I have been quite impressed with how well you've lived up to this high praise. It is for this reason and this reason alone that I am letting you off so gently on this matter. You have a lot of potential here at the ministry. You're exactly the type of person we love to hire here and watch thrive, so please don't squander it with these petty projects. In response to your statistics, politics has never been about actuality, Ms. Granger. Everything is emotion and perception and you would do well to remember that. And as for your creatures, if they've survived this many years in such conditions, they can do to survive a bit longer."

A moment's pause.

"Understood?" He still hadn't broken eye contact.

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. I'll do my best to remember that," I responded, fighting to swallow the molten ball of anger pulsing in my throat.

He clapped his hands together, "Very well then. Thank you for the rest of your work today" - he laid his hand on the stack of paperwork I'd been slaving over all week - "and enjoy your weekend."

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

We stood at the same moment, and I extended my hand out to shake, taking particular care to straighten my back and and assume the most confident and politician-worthy stance I could muster. Unfortunately, Mr. McLaggen was massive in stature and although just starting to gain weight with age, still maintained a stately and cut physique, right down to his aggressively gelled salt-and-pepper hair. He grabbed my hand, entirely enveloping it in his thick fingers, and squeezed just tight enough to verge on uncomfortable. I met those scary eyes again, refusing to show any sign of concession, and squeezed just as hard back as we shook. He raised an eyebrow at me and let me go.

Just as I hit the door, he stopped me, "Ms. Granger."

I turned back, a moment of foolish hope flashing in my eyes, "Yes?"

"I will be seeing you at the Minister's Holiday Party this weekend? I expect my entire staff to be in attendance."

I tried to keep my face from falling perceptibly, but he clearly noticed, and a smirk twitched at the edges of his lips, "Of course, sir. I'll see you then."

I walked out, barely making it back to my tiny cubicle before I exploded, hissing quiet curses through my clenched teeth, as I grabbed my bag and started aggressively packing up for the weekend. I had never been more glad to get out of this black marble hellhole that is the ministry.

When I first got this job, Fridays used to be annoying for an entirely different reason. I'd felt productive. I'd gotten my dream job and I'd felt like I was making a difference and it'd almost been disappointing to reach Friday afternoon feeling like there was so much more I could still do. And I still had days like that, but I was starting to become intimately acquainted with all the roadblocks and red tape and skewed priorities in politics.

Once packed, I took a moment, closed my eyes, and forced a deep breath into my lungs. This is just how it goes, Hermione. Keep your head up. Keep playing the game. Keep working. It WILL happen one day. I opened my eyes again, grabbed my wand, fastened my cloak, and exited the little gray box where I worked, braving the world yet again. But now it was the weekend and the relief in knowing that was euphoric.

I made my way through the twisting halls and over to the lift, waving at a few friends as I passed. I'd been at this job for just over a year and it was beginning to feel like a second home to me. I was finding my place. I was getting used to the corridors. Even on days when it was my hellhole, the ministry was still sort of my home, and I begrudgingly loved the majorityax of moments here. I stepped into the lift alone, instinctively reached up for a hand hold, and tapped my wand for the lobby and the little box immediately dropped 5 stories through the air before shooting backwards.

It snapped to a halt, the doors clanged open for a moment, and a lanky man with sandy blonde hair and crooked teeth ambled in next to a squat older woman with a massive blue-grey beehive seeming to weigh down her hair. I smiled at their presence.

"Reilly! Maeve! Merlin, am I glad to see you!"

"Oi, you'ra sight fer sore eyes, aintya," the man drawled, stepping in next to me, and clapping an arm around my shoulders.

"Hermione!" the woman squeaked happily at me. "You look terrible my dear! Long week, eh?"

She grabbed my hand in her tiny, pruny one, and somehow it was the most comforting gesture in the world. Another couple of men ran to make the lift before the doors shut.

"Yes, you could say that…" I sighed, shaking my head at the floor.

The lift lurched violently to the left, but all parties in the car stayed perfectly upright and continued on.

"Don' let that tosser, McLimpwilly, get ye down. He's not worth a shite of your time. Yer the feckin' 'brightest witch o' yer age,' amirite? Ye don' need to lis'en to some old gobshite runnin' speakin' atche outa his arsehole," Reilly chuckled, beaming at me unevenly, his brown eyes sparkling wildly.

"Thanks, Reilly."

"Jus' keep on yer feet, honey," he winked at me, as the lift shot up again.

The doors clanged open on what had to be the third floor (Administrative Division) and the lift was suddenly flooded with people, pushing Reilly and Madge and I shoulder to shoulder up against the edge of the box, like sardines.

We shot to the right and down and forward once more and then finally the doors opened into the immense, awe-inspiring lobby of the ministry, covered in dark granite with an immense, newly-constructed statue smack dab in the middle, swarming with a sea of people, all pushing each other and flowing like a massive school of fish. Pops of green light from the constantly burning floo fires strobed the edge of the hall, giving it a flickering quality. Folded paper airplane memos zipped about as fast as they could go in the air above us, trying to reach their recipients before they left for the day. It was peak traffic time and wildly congested and yet everyone moved with a purpose and everything still functioned and fit together like cogs in an advanced machine. I saw it nearly every day and yet it still took my breath away.

The lift emptied fast, and I waved a quick goodbye to Madge and Reilly before we scattered into the crowd. I wondered if they'd be going go to the Minister's Holiday Party, as well, but they were gone before I could ask. I made my way as swiftly as I could to the fireplaces and joined the shortest queue I could find behind a tall, hook nosed witch in a pointed purple hat. In a moment I was in the fire and shooting through the network home.

Finally, out of the fire I stepped into my one bedroom flat in Diagon Alley. With a wave of my hand, the lamps in the room sprung to light themselves. Despite being a small hole in the wall, it was my pride and joy. I'd configured the main part of the room into a lovely sitting area with a worn-but-lovable, emerald velvet, pull out couch and a few antique bergère chairs organized around a little table by the fireplace. The back corner housed my little kitchen area with my thick ornate table. My wardrobe had been fashioned into a cozy seat snuggled into the bay window. The whole place was a bit rustic but I had it well decorated in light lavender and emerald green, with little feminine touches everywhere, from framed pictures on the walls, to little vases of dainty flowers, and fluffy blankets over the side of the couch. For the first time, it was a place that truly felt my own.

I walked over to the kitchen, opened up the far right cabinet by the fridge, and scanned the contents. Bottles on bottles shimmered in the warm light. I located my favorite bottle of whiskey, unstoppered it, and poured myself a nice hefty glass on the rocks. I needed it today. I took a sip and let the fire dance on my tongue and slide down my throat, delighting in the full taste and the emanating warmth that started a sort of glow in my cheeks.

I set down my glass, moved back towards the beautiful mantle, and floo-ed Harry's place, sticking my face in the green flames with a subtle wince. Putting my face into what appeared to be hot coals never got easier for me, despite the unrealistic-looking, lime-colored fire.

My head popped up into in Harry's bright modern apartment across town.

"Hellooo?" I called musically into the void. After a moment, Ginny's face appeared around a corner.

"Oh, 'Mione! Perfect! I was just about to come calling! How are you?"

"I feel positively like horse shite. Oh, Gin, it's been the longest week."

"Oh honey. I'm so sorry! Sounds like you need a proper night out!"

Ginny was always getting ahead of herself, "No, no, I'm exhausted. I'd rather just talk, honestly…"

But then again she never took no for an answer either, "Absolutely not! I will not accept that! I will not allow you to be defeated by this gargoyle of a boss! I swear, you've got to stand-"

"Ginny?"

She turned to me, eyes big as saucers, finally listening, "Hmm?"

"Can you just get Harry for me? I just want to sit around and drink whiskey with him."

She sighed and looked at me pityingly, "I'm afraid both he and my brother are occupied tonight finishing up some Auror work before the party tomorrow, so it's a stag night for all of us!"

"Ginny, I told you," I started to moan.

"Come on, you! Luna's finally back in town from South Africa, and Hannah and Seamus and Neville are going to meet us at the Leaky Cauldron anyways and all your sorry ass has to do is walk downstairs and down the street! You are coming."

"I really don't want to."

"It doesn't matter what you want then, does it? This'll be good for you, 'Mione."

"Has anyone ever called you pushy before?"

"Ha. Ha. Ha. Now go get ready, and don't you dare wear what you wore to work! You are a young 21 year old lady and you should start acting like it!"

"Ginny?"

"What?" She looked me dead on with that ornery fury she had.

"I love you."

She melted a bit and smiled at me, "I know. I love you, too. I'll see you at 9, alright!"

I pulled my head back out of the fire, shaking my head and chuckling. I needed another sip of that whiskey.