A/N - Written for madderbrad for the Christmas Gift Giveaway 2013
Prompt: how well they're regarded by the wizarding world, years after the final battle. One of them as Minister; Hermione's progressive thinking and brains
Fear of Change
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The champagne was poured with a pop as a loud cheer went around the Ministry of Magic. It was no surprise that Kingsley Shacklebolt had to use his booming voice to draw himself any attention.
"It is customary that the person leaving say a few words about the person who is about to take over. I have known my successor for many years, most of the time," he said with a teasing tone, "I wished I didn't." A chuckle rippled through the crowd, and Kingsley continued. "She is a hero to many, a friend to a lucky few, and an inspiration to all. Please join me in raising your glasses to welcome the first Muggle-born witch to ever take the place of Minister for Magic, Hermione Granger!"
The applause was like a burst of sound, one that made Hermione laugh out loud as she accepted the congratulations of all who surrounded her.
It had been a few perfect years. What Kingsley failed to mention, as per her request, was that she was also the youngest person to be given the post of Minister for Magic. There were still too many wizards who thought that she was unqualified because they continued to picture her as a child; but she was determined to prove them wrong, and one way to do that was to ensure that they forgot her age and remembered the level of her experience.
Within a few short years, she had improved the inner workings of the Ministry, she had increased the demands for jobs, and ensured that things were running almost perfectly. Corruption was an all time low, and she made it a point to be socially active and remember the names of as many employees as she could (it helped immensely that there was a spell for that particular need).
Naturally, when Kingsley felt the necessity to retire, he decided to hand over the reigns to his second in command. There were those who had accepted her eagerly, especially because her role in the war made her a household celebrity in the wizarding world, but there were others who thought she might be too young, too inexperienced and too female. Hermione Granger was nothing if not resilient in the need to prove the doubters wrong.
Hermione thanked each person with a friendly smile and a hardy handshake, only to be turned around swiftly and pulled roughly into familiar arms. "Congratulations, Hermione!"
Hermione pulled back and smacked Ron upside his head.
"Oi! What was that for?" He dropped her like she had been a hot potato, his hand rising to rub his head gingerly. It continued to surprise her how a grown man could pout so effectively as he did.
Hermione placed her hands on her hips in a stern stance and glared at him. "You're late."
"Am not!" A waiter passed by at that time, and Ron wasted no time in picking a glass and emptying the contents with one long gulp. "Where's Harry?"
"I thought he was with you."
"Didn't see him. He said he was coming straight here, though."
"Oh." Hermione tried to stifle the feeling of disappointment that settled in the pit of her stomach.
"Don't worry," Ron mumbled flippantly as he happened to pick a few nibbles from another passing waiter and stuffed them in his mouth. "He'll be here soon. Your big day, after all. He wouldn't miss it."
"Yeah," Hermione muttered more to himself. "The Head Auror really shouldn't miss this."
As it turned out, by the time Harry appeared, Hermione was about to leave. She had just said her last goodbyes when she turned around and let out a soft gasp in surprise.
"I'm not that late, am I?" he asked with a cheeky grin.
Hermione hardly noticed as she practically ran to him and took his face in her hands so she could look at him properly. "Oh, Harry, what did you do?"
He winced as she moved his head to the side to study the large gash on the side of his head. "Ambush," he said softly before wrapping his fingers around her wrists and taking her hands off his face. "I'll put it in the report tomorrow morning. I just wanted to come by before it was too late." His glance swept the Ministry ballroom appreciatively. "Looks expensive."
Hermione didn't waste any time before she took his hand in hers and pulled him towards the nearest Floo channel. "You're coming home with me so I can fix that for you."
"I'm fine, Hermione, really."
"Doesn't matter." She stepped behind him and practically shoved him into the green flames. "You're hopeless when it comes to these things."
Harry winced as Hermione placed a small dab of the miracle cure against the side of his head. They were seated on the sofa in her living room, dressed in their pyjamas, after taking a quick wash each. There was still a slight smell of smoke coming from her best friend, but Hermione hardly minded as she tried to mend the gash. This happened so often that she was rarely surprised when Harry came to her all battered and bruised. He refused to go see a Healer, and he had a habit of sleeping over at her place on nights like this. She hardly noticed the way his things started taking up more and more space in her small apartment.
Hermione sat cross-legged and turned to face her best friend fully as the balm started to take effect and the cut started to mend.
"What happened?" As Harry looked away, her eyes narrowed at him. "You didn't!"
"It was a good lead."
"It wasn't. I told you to wait until tomorrow. You could have gone with someone. You shouldn't just run into any dark alleyway just because a witness said she thought she saw someone."
"She's not unreliable."
"We don't know that. This could have been worse."
"It wasn't."
"It could have been. You promised me that you would go with someone else next time. You said you wouldn't go alone."
Harry sighed tiredly as he lifted his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "I know. I'm sorry."
Hermione let out a low breath. "You can't keep doing this, Harry. You can't go at it alone." She leant forward and gently touched the healed wound with her fingertips, which was now a lovely bruise he would have to hide from Rita Skeeter lest she say he got into a domestic dispute with an imaginary girlfriend. "You should have been made Minister for Magic."
Harry snorted, even as his eyes closed and he allowed himself to move a tad bit closer to her touch. Hermione took the hint and ran her fingers through his unruly hair gently. "I would have been rubbish as Minister. You're brilliant with administrative work, Hermione. You're the perfect choice."
"I hope so," she said softly. "I have a lot to prove."
His eyes snapped open so he could watch her carefully. "You have nothing to prove. They all love you."
Hermione smiled softly, vaguely aware that her hand rested at the nape of his neck, her fingers gently scratching through his short, dark hair while his hand rested on her knee. "They love you more."
He seemed to move closer as he smirked. "That's because they don't really know me."
She let out a small laugh. "That's true."
Suddenly self-conscious, her gaze fell from his, even as her fingers moved across his jaw to his chin, and her eyes followed the movement. She was taken completely by surprise when Harry ducked his head and placed a light kiss on the tips of her fingers. Her eyes rose to his quickly, and just as quickly, she stood up so she could put some space between them.
"Well then," she said in a tone that she hoped was casual, as she placed the balm on the coffee table, "I guess it's time to go to bed."
Harry stayed still, head ducked, with his face hidden from her, and a tired, "Yeah," escaping him before he rubbed his eyes in a gesture of exhaustion.
"Good night," Hermione said awkwardly.
She barely waited for his soft, "'Night," before she retreated into her bedroom and closed the door behind her.
She tried to sleep, she really did, but all she found herself able to do was to stare into the darkness and think about that brief moment when she had deluded herself in thinking that something more was going to happen, because it was a delusion. She couldn't risk their friendship. His friendship was the one constant in her life, and even if such moments were happening more frequently than she would have expected, it was no reason to throw caution to the wind and let herself give into her desires.
A small knock on her door broke her mental tirade temporarily. Hermione waited for the soft call of her name to throw away the covers and open the door.
"Something wrong?"
"What?" Harry asked surprised, before his shoulders seemed to relax. "It's nothing. It's just…"
He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, and Hermione couldn't help but smile softly in response. "Out with it."
"Do you know Carol?" he blurted out.
Hermione's face scrunched up in confusion. "Carol? Carol from billings?"
"Yeah," he said nervously. "She asked me out."
It almost felt like a Hippogriff had kicked her in the chest. "Oh."
He watched her carefully, too carefully, if she was being honest with herself. "What do you think?"
"I…" Hermione shrugged, buying herself some time. "I think that's great."
She wondered why it looked like she had hurt him. "You do?"
"Yeah, it is." She was fidgeting, she knew it from the way her hands seemed to want to do something and the way she kept putting her weight from one foot to the other. "She's nice." She made a move to close the door. "We better go back to sleep…"
His hand suddenly rose to stop the door, and Hermione's eyes widened. He had that look in his eyes again, the one that she was too familiar with. The one that scared her because it meant something that she was sure they shouldn't explore. He took a tentative step towards her, causing her to raise her hand in caution.
"Harry…"
His eyes fell on her lips for a brief moment before he met her gaze with determination. He took another step forward, although Hermione was stubborn enough not to retreat.
He didn't stop until his feet were on either side of hers, his chest brushing her own rapidly rising and falling breasts, and she had no choice but to stare at his neck so she wouldn't lose her nerve.
She practically jumped when she felt his hands on either side of her hips, a shiver wracking her the moment she felt his thumbs go under her top to touch her bare flesh. Her breath hitched as he stepped even impossibly closer, his head ducking so that he could place his cheek against hers. "Tell me to go," he whispered warmly against her ear, "and I'll go."
For the sake of their friendship, Hermione knew she had to tell him those words, but his hands were suddenly under her top, spanning the length of her lower spine and bringing her closer as his hands travelled up her bare skin and down again. Her lips parted in a gasp, and she hardly had enough control to stop her hands from tangling in his hair and pull him closer so that their lips met in a deep and rough kiss.
It was a complete blur from that point onwards. All she wanted was to feel his skin naked against hers, and so she pulled him towards her bed, just as surely as he pushed her, and together they fell in a heap of dancing limbs on the bed, rolling over with him on top, and then her, losing their clothes quickly in the process.
It wasn't as elegant as it could have been, but that hardly mattered. They didn't think of foreplay or even of talking, it was simply giving and taking and her best friend burying himself inside her as she moaned for him to hurry. He kissed the way she always wanted him to kiss her, his hands studying her body as she rocked above him until it ended too fast, too soon.
The full reality of what had happened didn't hit her until she collapsed on top of him, her breathing slowing down along with his. He buried his face against the curve of her neck, his lips brushing her skin and causing a shiver to go through her.
"Cold?" he asked breathlessly.
Hermione shook her head and tried to catch her breath. "We shouldn't have."
She could feel the groan in his chest as he rolled them over so that he was lying above her. He didn't let her speak, snogging her into submission, which Hermione gladly gave into.
He placed a light kiss against the side of her breast before laying his head on her chest, his fingers running along her body in lazy circles. "You didn't tell me to go."
"No," Hermione said with a sigh. "I didn't."
"That must mean something."
She buried her fingers in his hair, now messier than ever, and told him her greatest fear. "I don't want to lose you."
Harry kissed her chest and snuggled closer. "You won't."
"You don't know that."
"I do."
"How?"
He was silent for a moment before he let out a low breath that warmed her skin deliciously. "Because, I don't love anyone as much as I love you, Hermione."
It wasn't the first time he had ever said those words to her, but now they had a deeper meaning that she couldn't ignore. "I love you too, Harry."
He looked up at her with a cheeky grin on his face. "I knew it."
Rolling her eyes, she thumped the back of his head lightly to show her displeasure. She was rewarded with a gentle chuckle and his fingers moved over her hip and dipped between her thighs.
They didn't speak for quite a while after that.