Percy had eventually completed a response to Hermione's letter, though it took him a while to find the words he wanted to convey a willingness to help wherever he could. Following her unbelievably enthusiastic thanks, a few much shorter notes were sent back and forth, confirming a meeting. They decided on tea at Hogwarts, which seemed the easiest option, given the restrictions that Hermione currently had on her movement, despite her age, on paper she was still a schoolgirl. After speaking to Headmistress McGonagall about the plan, his old Head of House had happily approved the use of her old office.
Percy made it to main gates after apparating to Hogsmeade. He had initially tensed when he had seen Hagrid approaching the gates, if retracing his steps from months before up the long drive hadn't been bad enough. He had known, somewhere in the back of his mind, that the former gamekeeper would be the one to let him in, yet Percy wasn't prepared to come face to face with a member of the Order. Even now he carried the weight of being Arthur and Molly's wayward son. He forced down memories of the last time he had been there, the fear in his chest, the smoke in the air, and Fred's frozen face, reminding himself that he had been asked to be there that he was expected.
While trudging the familiar route, cordially chatting to the Care of Magical Creatures Professor, Percy took note of the reconstruction work that had been undertaken. Of course, whatever had been done the war could never be entirely wiped away, traces remained everywhere. In the walls, and the floor, but most notably in the subdued eyes of the students. Percy contemplated how many years it would take for the atmosphere to return to one of safety and learning, at least he hoped it would take years, the possibility that it might take generations was too depressing to contemplate.
Percy greeted the new Headmistress, who was waiting for him by the door and relaxed a little more as she smiled at him warmly. They both made pleasant enquiries of each other's lives, as was required, and the professor shortly moved off to spend an hour in the staffroom, leaving her old space at his disposal.
Moving within the room that Percy remembered in great detail from his time as a prefect he realised Hermione was not there yet, so he busied himself with setting up the tea service that Minerva, as she insisted he call her, had set out. He was still clinking cups when a shadow appeared in the doorway. Percy had left the door open, feeling that it would be weird for the former student in him to shut the door behind himself in a Professor's office, he heard a light knock against the frame and turned to see Hermione standing awkwardly.
"Hi, err, thank you for coming," she mumbled.
Percy was momentarily taken back by Hermione's appearance; she was so different to how he remembered her, so much older. That sounded silly, after all, he had seen her only a few months earlier, yet she seemed so unrecognisable. He wondered if he had ever seen her away from Harry and Ron before. Somehow she had long ago been categorised in his mind as a 'friend of his little brother' and as such his mental image of her, as with Ron's, had paused at about age fourteen.
She wasn't fourteen anymore.
The last time Percy had seen Hermione he apparently hadn't looked past the superficial changes to her appearance; the dirt she was covered in, or the sorrow etched onto her face. He had been paying attention to things other than how 'little Hermione Granger' had grown up. But she had, so much so that it almost seemed ridiculous for her to be wearing a school uniform. She had filled out since then, not that she could have done much else. She certainly couldn't have lost any more weight. Hermione had appeared positively waif-like at the final battle. The memory of her fingers intertwining with his had haunted Percy after that day. But the spectre was a pleasant one, some nights when he had sat alone in his flat he could almost have believed he could still feel her fingers. Even at a time when she had appeared so weak she still had it within her power to give so much strength to another. Percy had found himself awed by her.
Her body was that of a woman's now, despite still being small, her frame dominated by her large, bouncing curls. Her skin was slightly sun kissed, and she had a delightful spattering of freckles over her pert nose. Percy coughed as became aware of the route his thoughts had taken and concentrated desperately on fighting off the blush that he could feel rising in his cheeks.
He fixed his hands in front of himself, assessing as his gaze was it wasn't Hermione's unexpected maturity that had caught him off guard, it was her stance. She used to stand upright and alert, uniform gleaming, her eyes sharp and eager, now she looked… altered. She didn't exactly slouch, but she didn't seem confident in that quiet way she'd had before. She had lost the slight prickle to the air around her that told others that she couldn't have given a flying fuck what they thought of her. Hermione's hands pulled at the sleeves of her grey jumper, a garment that was so big it sat low on her fingers, and Percy noted how she had managed to make a thumb hole in one arm.
Maybe not everyone had come out of the war as cleanly as he had believed.
"I must confess I was surprised to receive your letter," he said, breaking the ice.
"Oh?" Hermione responded weakly.
"Yes, I always thought that of the three of you, 'the Great Hermione Granger', would have had a plan," Percy replied, trying to enthuse some levity in his tone, the style was unpractised to him, and it felt false even to his own ears.
He looked back over his shoulder, cringing at his clumsiness, to find Hermione paling, her teeth descending to bite her lip as if she would tear through it. "I'm sorry Miss Granger I didn't mean to cause-"
"I didn't… I don't have one," Hermione said, cutting him off and averting her eyes.
Percy didn't like how skittish she seemed, still standing in the doorway as if it gave her the option to bolt at any moment. "Do you mind me asking why?" he pressed softly.
"I wasn't sure I would survive."
Percy dropped the spoon he had been using to stir in milk at her blunt declaration.
"Sorry," Hermione continued, her cheeks flushing a little, "I've only ever been focused on the war, it seemed silly to plan anything beyond that. I didn't want to think that far ahead, and if by some miracle we all made it, I was sure I would just know what I wanted, and well, now I'm on the other side, and every knows where they are headed, and I'm… I'm alone."
Percy realised that despite being in her presence a hundred times before, Hermione didn't know her at all.
-/-/-/-
Hermione finally moved into the office as Percy finished making the tea, forcing herself to stop fidgeting with the cuffs of her jumper restlessly. Percy gestured for her to take a seat and she sat down, woodenly, trying to shake off the nerves that had been making her skin itch all morning. As soon as she had sent the letter asking for help Hermione had almost needed to sit on her hands to stop herself from sending another telling him to ignore the first. Asking for help wasn't her normal mode, though a tiny voice told her that was where she might have been going wrong. When he had sent a positive response she was so relieved, and yet now as she sat in front of him she felt so exposed, so raw, her nerves returned a new.
Hermione wasn't sure why she had admitted such a thing to Percy, a man who she didn't really know. In truth, since he had grasped for her hand as they stood together in the devastation at the final battle she had thought about him, a lot. Something about Percy's presence put her at ease. He didn't demand anything of her; he didn't know her before, so he had nothing tangible to measure her current self against, only a series of half formed observations and assumptions from years of vicarious acquaintance, the same she had of him.
Hermione looked up to regard Percy, who was busying himself with the tea service, she was envious of him having something to occupy his hands.
He looked different from his Hogwarts days, older, more world weary. His red hair was not quite the distinctive, vibrant ginger hue shared by Ron and the twins; it was a darker colour, more akin to the bright copper of Ginny's. It also had lots of natural curl that reminded her of the wedding photo she had seen of Molly in the kitchen at the Burrow. He kept it shorter than he had at school and the lack of the more familiar floppy fridge made his cheekbones more striking. Percy was tall, not as tall as Ron, few were, but easily over six feet. He lacked the athletic broad shoulders and lazy swagger that his brothers possessed, but there was something distinctly captivating about his lean frame. It was the way he held himself, Hermione decided almost absently, most of the Weasley's when still seemed to almost vibrate with the need to be off, to go to the next place, to get moving. Not Percy, he had a natural grace that only seemed visible when he held himself upright and motionless.
He was altered though, something about him was not quite the same as she remembered. He was still decked out in practical clothing, and there was very little fuss about his horned rimmed circular glasses, but Percy didn't seem as commanding as he had before.
"So, you wanted to talk about what to do next?"
Percy's politely worded question snapped Hermione out of her musings, and she felt the familiar dread seep into her skin as the enquiry registered in her mind. She fought against the mind blank that typically descended when being asked about her career, or the future in general. Reminding herself that she had asked Percy for help, it was not an interrogation.
Percy stepped forward to fold himself into the chair in front of her, and Hermione gratefully took the cup he offered, using the warm porcelain to centre her thoughts.
"Yes," she began softly, "I don't know what direction to go in, and since the war," she stilled, chewing the side of her tongue briefly before deciding on a change of tack. "This year I am not sure what would suit, nothing seems to be the right fit."
"I always had you down as a Ministry worker, Miss Granger," Percy stated plainly.
"Hermione, please," she bade automatically, and she was somewhat surprised at his subtle raise of eyebrows as if the courtesy had been unexpected.
"Okay, Hermione," he said with a small smile, "so, a no to the Ministry?"
She considered, Hermione knew how sensitive Percy could be about the importance of government and she didn't want to cause offence, especially when he had been so nice as to come and see her. "I'm just not sure it would be the place for a person like me," she said quietly, unconsciously touching the arm that carried her brand, courtesy of Bellatrix Lestrange.
Extraordinarily her Percy did not push, not like so many had, he placed down his cup and slapped his thighs, apparently infinitely more relaxed now the requisite pleasantries were over, and they had moved on to the 'problem to be solved'. "Well, ok, so not the Ministry. What do you enjoy?"
Hermione thought hard. She was suddenly struck by how bizarre it was that over the course of all the conversations she had endured so far no one had ever asked such a simple question.
"I err… I like reading, and research, and writing essays," she felt her face flush at the admission that had rolled off her tongue unchecked.
"There is nothing wrong with that Miss Gran… Hermione," Percy smiled, and she noticed how nice the expression looked on his face, it softened his features and made him look younger. "There are plenty of people that have made successful careers from independent research."
"Really?" Hermione replied quickly, though the flash of excitement was short lived, she realised she didn't know the first thing about how to pursue such an endeavour.
As if reading her thoughts Percy continued. "It may be best to speak to a few people that could put you in touch with some contacts, Kingsley for example. You could start out with contracts for different organisations, and spend the rest of your time pursuing what you wanted for independent publication through magazines or periodicals."
Hermione's mind was reeling, for the first time in months, she felt her synapses flutter and close, firing off messages, lists compiling in her brain. She could do this, she had the money from the Ministry as a starting point, and what Percy was saying made sense this could… This could work!
"Thank you, Percy, that was helpful, I feel... Well, it's good to feel," she said and flushed again, having not intended to make such a revealing statement.
"You're welcome, Hermione, it's nice to feel useful," Percy finished softly, and she smiled at him, grateful that he had tried to make her feel better. "I'm sure this would be an excellent career choice for you, it was one I considered for myself many times."
Hermione was taken aback by that information. "I had no idea you had ever contemplated anything other than the Ministry."
Percy smiled again though this one seemed a little strained and Hermione found she missed the real one immediately. "I am sure it would surprise you to know that I had any other thoughts or ambitions, one's that didn't pertain to becoming fastidious Ministry worker Weasley, I-"
"No it wasn't that at all, I just was curious," Hermione interjected, hating the way the conversation had turned.
"Well," Percy said a little harshly, "it was a long time ago, and research isn't suited to everyone. I'm not nearly as brilliant as you."
Hermione forced down the flutter she felt in her stomach at being labelled such a thing, by him of all people, it was hardly helpful at that moment. Percy gripped his tea cup till the whitening of his knuckles looked almost painful.
Hermione realised that despite being in his presence a hundred times before, she didn't know Percy at all.
Percy expectantly reviewed his note from Kingsley, as if the parchment would shoot up into the air like a howler and answer the questions he had swirling around in his brain. It was finally time for the new roles to be assigned and in line with the protocols that Percy himself had devised, he was due to report to the Minister's office at 10 am that day. He had been unable to complete any task to a proper standard since he had sat down at his desk at 8.30 precisely. Percy was anxious to get an idea of where he would fit into the new regime and yet he wasn't sure what to hope for, he had always just wanted a position in government, it had never mattered which particular cog he was assigned, as long as he was part of the machine.
When the requested time eventually rolled around, Percy stepped into the grand office to hear his fate. His nerves slightly calmed as Kingsley motioned for him to take a seat in front of his desk, as opposed to being seated at one of the less comfortable meeting spaces within his large office, the unexpected familiarity put Percy at ease.
The Minister welcomed him warmly and after getting the usual spiel out of the way (this being the time for change etc.) Kingsley addressed him, referring to several pieces of parchment on his desk. The Minister told him how impressed he, and other senior ranking officials, had been with the work Percy had contributed thus far, and how much they appreciated his dedication to the programme of reforms.
The Minister reached into his desk to retrieve a file, dropping it in front of Percy gently. "After much deliberation over where would be best to utilise your skill set, we have settled on the Department of Magical Transportation. I appreciate that it isn't often seen as the most glamorous of departments, but there is a lot of work to be undertaken, and we believe you would be the right fit."
Percy took a moment to consider his reaction; he hadn't thought he had much of a preference, that said he couldn't deny that this proposal sounded a lot more up his street than sports, or god forbid law enforcement.
"What position would that be Minister Shacklebolt?"
"Well," Kingsley said with a slightly bemused smile, "we would like you to be the Department Head, of course."
Percy was stunned. He hadn't been expecting to lead a department, well, ever. With all he had contributed he had considered that he might have been offered an Assistant position at best. Kingsley must have seen the surprise on his face as the Minister got out of his seat to slap him on the shoulder, he gave him a week to make his decision and cheerily sent Percy on his way.
Once he got back into his office, and behind the relative safety of the secured door, Percy collapsed in his chair and indulged in biting the side of his knuckles, it had become something of an impulse stress reaction for him. It had started in the last year, when, in moments of despair, or when spiralling thoughts threatened, Percy found the quick burst of mild pain grounding. He didn't allow anyone else to see it, but occasionally, when he was alone, it was still comforting.
Percy was frustrated with himself, after leaving Hogwarts an opportunity like this would have been a dream for him, but now it felt tainted. He sat back in his chair, letting his head fall onto the top of the rest. He was worried about what people's reactions would be, he was still relatively young, possibly too young for a responsibility such as this. Two years ago he wouldn't have cared; he would have marched into the first meeting, laid out his directives, and made exasperated faces at anyone who dared to comment. He wasn't sure he was capable of that amount of bravado anymore.
Sure, he could probably still fake it, though maybe not as convincingly as he once would have done, what would happen when he got home? Would the voices of the doubters join the others he had on a permanent loop in his mind?
Percy opened his eyes a fraction and regarded the small family photo that rested on the far corner of his desk. He had hidden it during the war, but it had been put back on display following his return to the Ministry. How would they react to the news? Things had been thawing nicely, and while he might never be everyone's favourite, he had established much better relations than he'd had in years. Percy ruffled his hair, avoiding his father's smiling image looking out at him from the simple frame. His dad hadn't gotten a serious promotion, despite all of his work for the Order. Arthur was back in the Misuse of Magic office, though he was now running a subdivision. What if they didn't think he deserved it? What if it caused another argument? What if he wasn't able to come back from this one?
Percy fidgeted in his chair for several long minutes before he capitulated to following the course his mind had been screaming at him since he left the Minister's office. An hour later Percy had composed a short letter consisting of only three short paragraphs, neatly written. In the bin next to him were fifteen drafts, it had taken him three attempts to settle on Dear Hermione.
Letter done he headed to the owlery before he could change his mind.
-/-/-/-
Hermione's outlook felt mildly brighter since her meeting with Percy Weasley. His tender planting the seed of independent research as a career path had alleviated some of the crushing weight of indecision she had felt since returning to Hogwarts. It wasn't a cure all. After enjoying two straight nights of restful sleep, she was awoken from a particularly bad nightmare, convinced she was being pinned to the floor at Malfoy Manor. She woke, covered in a sweat, and dismantled the privacy wards on the curtains around her bed to head for a shower. Hermione knew from experience there was little point in attempting to get back to sleep following such a vivid dream.
For the first few moments, the water was soothing, and Hermione scrubbed herself down, wiping away the perspiration from her skin, wishing she could wipe away her memories as quickly. She continued her frantic movements until her skin was a little raw but caught up in the shadows of her nightmare Hermione didn't stop. Fifteen minutes later her arm was bloody the sudden pink tinge to the water was enough to snap Hermione out of her momentary loss of focus, and she rushed from the shower to the first aid kit she kept under her sink. She had just managed to bandage up the offensive lettering when one of the fourth year girls entered the shared space. Hermione managed a weak greeting and an empty smile as she tried not to sag against the large sink in obvious relief.
Things were not better, though she was trying. Her emotions regarding her parents were still on a hair trigger, but that little thing Percy had given her, that one good thing, had made some difference.
As Percy had suggested, Hermione had sent a note to Minister Shacklebolt, who had responded with more enthusiasm than she would have thought possible. Her one-time battle partner had set up meetings for her with the Department of Records, Magical Law Enforcement, and Mysteries. Apparently, all of those departments would be happy to discuss outsourcing some of their research quotas.
Feeling a little more confident Hermione had gone to see Professor McGonagall again and this time instead of staring blankly ahead while she tried not to rip the skin on the back of her hand to ribbons, she asked about contacts in periodicals and magical research journals. Her professor had given her a relieved smile, and Hermione had managed a thin, brittle one back. She supposed when she acted more like old Hermione people were more pleased with her.
Hermione trudged into the Great Hall, the roots of her hair were still damp from her attempt at a calming shower, but she didn't think much of it. Maybe she was just oversensitive, but it wasn't easy to be okay, and she was getting tired of the amount of work it required. But conditioning and habit were hard things to break, and Hermione had never dealt well with disappointing people. Lost in a spiralling train of thought she almost missed the birds swoop in with the post until a large grey owl, wearing a Ministry seal around its neck, dropped a letter impatiently in front of her, narrowing its eyes as if it was completely inconvenienced by her absent mindedness. Hermione quickly broke off a piece of her toast to offer the bird, and it eyed her in deliberation for a while before acquiescing.
Opening the letter she was pleased to see another note from Percy. Hermione had toyed with the idea of writing to him again since their last meeting, but she didn't want to bother him unnecessarily. She scanned the parchment, smiling to herself as she regarded the handwriting that was exactly as she would have assumed it would be. Hermione had almost laughed when she received his reply to her first letter, Percy wrote in short, precise, economical strokes, his letters were to the point, but never rude, almost as if he actively attempted to write as few words as possible without causing offence.
I find myself in a position I had not expected. I have received an offer for a role within the Ministry that would be a challenge for me, and in short, a rather large promotion.
Like yourself, I too find that I do not have anyone in my immediate circle that I can discuss this matter with. Would you be willing to meet with me to listen, and perhaps, to impart some advice?
Percy's request caused a small warm feeling to develop in Hermione's stomach. Immediately following breakfast, she rushed off to the library to compose her response, moving to sit in a hidden alcove. For some reason, she felt very defensive of her communication with Percy and wasn't keen to share it with anyone. For the longest time, Hermione stared at the blank sheet of parchment in front of her. It wasn't hesitation over what to say; she knew she wanted to meet with him, she just wanted to alter the setting.
For reasons she did not want to press into too deeply Hermione wasn't keen for Percy to come to the school again, it was a reminder of her current student status and importantly, meant he would see her in her uniform, again. That wasn't any way to present herself when giving advice, was it?
Feeling bolder than she ever had before Hermione hastily wrote her reply, explaining that she would be willing to meet, and asked if Percy would be available for an early drink in The Three Broomsticks that Saturday.
Letter done she headed to the owlery before she could change her mind.
Hermione's increasingly acute state of nervous anticipation made her walk in steps so quick she must have looked almost comical as she trudged from the lane the Hogwarts carriage had left her in. She didn't look back. Despite Luna's repeated assurances that the Thestrals were peaceful creatures Hermione couldn't help but feel unsettled by them. It wasn't their fault; it wasn't even their ominous appearance that unsettled her, it was what they represented, they reminded her of how much of her innocence had been ripped away forever.
Hermione took a final deep breath before squaring her shoulders and heading to the pub. The Three Broomsticks was less bustling than she was sure it would have been earlier in the day, given that it was a Hogsmeade weekend, but the bar was still full of patrons.
Hermione was not very good in crowds, partly as she was short, her reduced vantage point made large collections of people intimidating, but it was more how close people got, how much noise surrounded her. Before the war, the experience would have made her short tempered, one small barge to the shoulder and she would have huffed hard enough to displace her hair and then stomped through all of the bodies, grumbling the whole way.
Hermione had only been in a pub once since resuming her education; she had sat between Ginny and Luna repeating over and over again in her mind that she should relax until a glass was smashed two tables over and she jumped so high she nearly fell off the seat. Her friends didn't push again when she turned down further initiations. These days when she could be coerced to come out at all, Hermione much preferred the Hogs Head, as long as she discreetly charmed her glass clean. She had debated going with her preference when she sent the letter to Percy, but the dilapidated tavern didn't seem to be the kind of place you would invite someone to join you for a drink.
Despite the people milling about Hermione spotted Percy quickly, the middle-ish Weasley was sitting towards the back of the room, at a small table, with several pieces of parchment arranged over the worn surface. When they locked eyes, he waved Hermione over, and she managed to cross the room through the assembled masses, all of whom had the limited sense of awareness symptomatic of having been in the pub all afternoon.
As she got closer, Hermione noticed his half empty bottle of butterbeer and automatically checked her watch. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to keep you. I'll just head up to the bar, did you want anything?"
Percy stood and put a hand on her shoulder, directing her to the table. "Please, sit down Hermione, what can I get you to drink?"
"Um, Butterbeer please," she requested, and he nodded once before heading off.
Hermione stared after him slightly bemused; she wasn't used to being treated with such… she supposed it was a courtesy, to call it chivalry was probably overstating it. She watched as Percy made his way to the bar and was immediately served by Madam Rosmerta, even though there were a couple of other customers waiting. Hermione supposed the fact Percy was at least making an effort to meet the landlady in the eye helped.
He was wearing a dark grey, thin knit jumper without a shirt underneath, and dark blue chinos. Hermione wasn't normally one to observe someone's state of dress but she hadn't previously seen Percy in anything less formal than a button down shirt. The look suited him. It also made her feel more comfortable; she had opted for straight legged jeans with a wide neck jumper and ballet shoes. She never really made a huge amount of effort with her appearance, but that didn't mean she didn't care about it. More than anything Hermione hated arriving anywhere and feeling like she had dressed up too much, or too little, for the occasion, Percy's jumper put her at ease. As the thought registered in her mind, she gave herself up as a lunatic, to be comforted by knitwear? She was losing what little sanity she had remaining.
Before long Percy was back at the table, and Hermione was back to feeling uncomfortable, not in the sense that she wanted to leave, although part of her mind was screaming that this had been a horrible idea, the discomfort was more of a squirming in her stomach, and a slight fuzzing of her brain. The kind of disquiet she knew she would immediately miss when it was gone. Hermione drank from the bottle Percy had passed to her calmly and fought herself to not to begin shredding one of the napkins that had been left on the table. Hermione had never been good at this after she had made friends with Harry and Ron she hadn't needed to try with anyone else. The boys would talk away between themselves regardless, and she could contribute as and when. She felt slightly exposed with Percy regarding her from the other side of the table and was hugely relieved when he broke the silence first.
"So, I suppose it's my turn to thank you for coming," Percy opened with a slight glint of humour in his eyes. The jumping around in the pit of Hermione's stomach increased tenfold.
Against her attempts to stop it Hermione flushed. "Sorry, did I make it sound like a job interview last time?"
Percy laughed, though it was a quiet, almost self-conscious sound. "Not at all Hermione."
She liked the way he said her name; he didn't seem the type to want to shorten it. Over time she had grown not to hate the constant 'Mione's' from her friends, but for some reason, she didn't think she would like to hear it coming from Percy. She supposed someone with the middle name Ignatius would know all about the liberties others could take with your moniker.
Hermione willed herself out of her head and forced herself to stop staring at how Percy's hand gripped the body of his butterbeer bottle. "So, you wanted to talk about a job offer?"
"Yes," he replied evenly, though he shuffled the papers in front of himself not meeting her gaze. "The Ministry has begun the process of restructuring the internal teams; everyone is being assigned new positions."
Hermione nodded though she already had about twenty questions, she bit the side of her lip and linked her fingers together on the table top. When Percy seemed to falter, she made an encouraging sound, and he continued.
"I had my meeting with Kingsley this week, and he offered me a role in the Department of Magical Transportation."
"Which role?" Hermione asked with genuine interest
"The Department Head," Percy replied staring at the table for a moment until he seemed to give himself a little shake and set his bottle down before looking up as if to gauge her response.
She beamed at him.
-/-/-/-
Percy watched as Hermione's easy smile lit across her face, and he instantly felt relief wash over him. He couldn't have been sure of her reaction; he had been concerned that he would pick up on some small thing, a facial tic she unwittingly displayed that would indicate she thought he wasn't up to the role. Since sending his acceptance to her invitation, he had imagined all kinds of reactions, some as bad as her telling him outright that she didn't think he was up to it. In all of his thought up scenarios, he had never pictured her smiling, not at him, not like she was.
Percy felt his nerves ease, which was a blessed relief, he had felt tightly wound all day. After pacing his flat for two hours, he had eventually given in and arrived thirty minutes early, with the hope that a quick drink would calm him down before Hermione got there. It had worked like a charm; he had relaxed, so much so that he had even been able to complete some of the paperwork he had brought along to fill the time. That was until she had walked in.
"That's fantastic Percy! Are you going to accept? It sounds like a great opportunity."
Percy fought off the stupid grin that threatened as he listened to her enthusiastic questions. It was incredible really how one person's belief could make you view everything differently. Hermione's positivity clung to his very skin, washing over him like a soothing balm.
Abruptly the hesitations began to resurface in his mind, niggling away at the edges. Percy hated them all the more for taking the shine off the relief that Hermione had given him.
"Well, that's, I'm not sure," he falteringly replied. It was what he had written to her about after all.
"Why ever not?" Hermione asked, searching his face.
Percy averted his eyes, wiping some condensation from the bottle still in his grip. "Well, there's my age, for a start. I'm very young for a Department Head, and that's before we even get to my actions during the war, and what my family would think," he said, conscious that he was losing volume in his voice with every word that passed his lips.
Hermione looked at him for a moment before holding out her fingers as if counting through his arguments. "Twenty-two isn't that young, and you have a lot of experience," she countered, surprising Percy with the speed of her complete rebuttal to one of the biggest stumbling blocks he had been tripping over in his mind. "As for your actions during the war, you were at the final battle; there are a lot of people that cannot say that… and well, I think Arthur and Molly would be proud of you."
Hermione's swatting away of all of his issues should have made Percy feel better, and it did, a tiny bit, but it also made him feel stupid for having made what now seemed like a very unnecessary fuss. Percy brushed a piece of imaginary lint off his trousers as he chastised himself, he should have been capable of rationally assessing the situation on his own.
He was trying to articulate an apology for wasting her time when Hermione started talking again. "Sorry, I shouldn't be so dismissive of your problems," she apologised, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. "I can be so horribly practical at times, and other people's problems are always so easy to fix don't you find?"
Her little face looked so forlorn it made Percy feel dreadful. "It's not easy is it, since the war," he ventured carefully.
Hermione's head snapped up to look at him, her eyes widening, and Percy put his hands up, ready to withdraw the topic, but she sat back in the chair, her face going blank again.
"No… no, it's not," she admitted softly, her gaze falling to her now almost empty bottle. "I don't know what to do anymore; there are no more dragons to slay. I think I have always defined myself by what I offered to people, homework help, dark object research, assurance, and now... now all of that's over, and everyone around me seems to be getting on with their lives, lives they were seemingly planning while I was absorbed in it all, and I just don't know."
Hermione looked up suddenly, and the expression on her face was so raw Percy felt his spine stiffen. "I'm floundering," she admitted in a tone that was probably more suited to the confession of a terrible crime. To the girl in front of him, it probably was. There was water in the corner of her eyes, and Percy felt the need to say something that would help, he had never been good at this sort of thing, but since Hermione's first letter he had found the promise of someone to talk to was a comfort he didn't want to give up
"I feel," he huffed out a breath, fighting against the almost physical compulsion to close his mouth and stop the words from coming. "I feel like I don't have a place anymore," he shook his head, "No, that's not quite it. I feel like I might never have had a place, but never acknowledged it, and instead, I filled my life with work and inconsequential achievements, and since the war, it's like I can't unknow that. Now I try and fill the hole with the same stuff, and it's not working," he took a large swig of his drink wishing it was something stronger. "I should be thrilled… ecstatic, with this promotion offer but instead I… I feel a bit numb to it."
Hermione regarded him kindly from her place across the table; she didn't flinch as he laid his inadequacies out in front of her and Percy felt the tension in his shoulders dissipate.
"Thank you, Percy," she all but whispered, "I was beginning to think I was the only one that hadn't been offered the Kool-Aid."
"What?" he asked.
"Sorry, Muggle expression," she shook her head causing her curls to bounce around her face and Percy reflectively gripped the edge of the table top to stop himself from reaching out to grab one.
"For what it's worth, I think you would be really good at that job Percy, and while you may not feel like it yet, being asked is a huge achievement. Maybe one day, when some of the shock has worn off, you will feel it, and not acting now would be a missed opportunity."
Percy swallowed roughly, "Thank you, Hermione."
Hermione huffed out a large breath that gave away how much stress she had been feeling under the weight of their conversation before she placed her empty bottle back on the table with a wet clunk. "Right, another?"
He beamed at her.
Hogwarts Graduation Day rolled around sooner than Hermione could ever have expected. She dressed quickly, donning her special ceremonial robes in dark Gryffindor red, with the Hogwarts crest affixed to the left breast, and regarded herself in dorm room mirror. She looked almost back to normal now, whatever that meant, at least while in her robes. Hermione had debated for a while whether or not it was worth bothering to tame her hair for the occasion, in the end, she found she didn't want to. It took forever, and she hated the feel of it when it was doused in potions, plus there would be no one there to comment.
She had received a note from Harry and Ron the week previous, because of their intense schedule they were unable to attend. Hermione had felt real remorse from both boys in their sections of the note. Joint letters from the boys had been a highlight of her final year at school, it might have taken them seven long years, but they were finally regular correspondents. They were both adjusting well to training, though they were very much looking forward to completing soon. If their letters were anything to go by, the rigorous physical drills and mental tests sounded completely draining.
Hermione had been issued two tickets for the day from a rather forlorn looking Minerva McGonagall. Her professor had quickly told her that she could invite whomever she chose, they weren't limited to a parent or guardian, which Hermione supposed was a good job, she was far from the only one within the castle walls that would have been affected by the same issue. Hermione had excused herself from the Head's office rather hurriedly after that, before sending a quick missive off to the boys asking for them to come. The owl they had sent in reply had been the first time that year she wished they had reverted to their tardy responses.
Hermione knew it couldn't be helped, she had sent cheery 'don't worry about it' responses to both of them, telling herself how fine it was the whole way back to the common room. Telling herself that it was only a silly ceremony and she would see them soon anyway as she climbed the dorm room stairs. She had clambered into bed, fully dressed at 10 am on a Tuesday, just managing to wait until she had finished charming the curtains shut and sound proof before she allowed herself to cry for the best part of two hours, telling herself how she didn't care the whole time.
Hermione placed the two unused tickets inside her purse and attempted to charm away the hair that had already come loose and clung to her robes. She didn't want to seem ungrateful; she had already received a note from Mrs Weasley, expressing how excited she was to see her graduate, and how Hermione was obviously welcome to join them for the celebration dinner at the Burrow afterwards, which she had gratefully accepted.
But it wasn't the same.
Hermione tiptoed away from the mirror and stepped into her black sensible shoes. Ginny had laughed at her stony faced reaction to the suggestion she wore gold sandals. This day was going to be long enough without being in unnecessary physical pain as well.
Not having her parents was a daily ache, which, although debilitating, was an improvement on the hourly pain it had been before. Though on occasions like this it was like the wound had been reopened. Hermione loved all of the Weasleys in different ways, but as amazing as they were, they weren't her parents. Sadly, neither were David and Jean Granger, to them they had no idea they had a child, let alone one that was about to graduate.
With the loss of her parents, Hermione felt like she was losing her link to the Muggle world, and with it the people that understood a particular part of the broad spectrum that made up who she was.
Hermione never liked to feel beholden to anyone, and she didn't want pity. She had faced worse things on her own, and she would do this too.
As she moved down the stairs, she tried to block out the voice inside her head telling her to walk back in the other direction.
-/-/-/-
Percy looked around the courtyard and up the grassed bank towards the Black Lake, for as many things that had changed since the war he was always surprised by the sheer number of things that remained the same. The Graduation Ceremony that day had been the same as his, the same as all of the others he had attended for his siblings, and he suspected the same for his parents. Some traditions were immovable against time, or inclination of outside forces, much like the castle herself.
He had come along to support Ginny, of course, but Percy knew that wasn't the whole reason for his attendance. He had been at the Burrow for dinner during the week, talking to his parents about his promotion, which he had now accepted, and had overheard Harry and Ron were not going to be able to make it. He wondered if Hermione had known about their absence before they had met, she had never mentioned it. In fact, she had mainly focused on him and his problems. Percy had gained the confidence to face his parents after talking to Hermione in The Three Broomsticks. They had stayed for the best part of three hours, and she had reassured him repeatedly that they would be happy for him. As the reputation that preceded her everywhere she went suggested, she had been right.
When he arrived Percy had spotted Hermione immediately, she stood out amongst the sea of crimson robes, standing next to Ginny and Neville Longbottom, her wild curls blowing in the summer breeze. He smiled to himself as he spotted the dark navy housecoat indicating Luna Lovegood, standing out amongst the cluster of red as she flouted house regulations to stand with her friends.
Hermione had accepted her parchment and smiled her little smile that didn't reach her eyes and moved to sit down. At the end of the ceremony she had been swept up into hugs and kisses from all of his family but had darted off while Percy was congratulating Ginny, and now he couldn't find her.
Several laps of the party later Percy was beginning to think he would have to give up and head back to the Ministry like he should have done an hour ago until he caught sight of a small patch of crimson moving under a tree by the Black Lake. The next moment it was gone again, and it took him a few minutes of moving his weight from one foot to the other before he could narrow down exactly where Hermione was. He was pretty sure she had used a notice-me-not charm, and it was now wearing off.
Percy approached her cautiously, though he didn't think Hermione was the type to run away. When he got close enough, he held out the neatly folded handkerchief from his pocket and looked in the other direction as she roughly wiped at her eyes.
"Thank you," she said, her voice thick.
Percy picked up on the sound of some voices chattering in the distance, and he moved to stand in a position that would block the girl at his feet from view. "Would you like to talk about it?" he ventured.
"Not today," Hermione replied, and he looked back at her. She wasn't crying anymore, but her glassy gaze was fixed somewhat confusedly on the lake. "Sorry, I just… I'm going to go back out there in a little bit," Hermione said without conviction.
Percy nodded at her, even though she couldn't see it. "I just wanted to say," he began, hating the formal tone of his voice that had become even more clipped, as it always did when he was endeavouring to be earnest. "I came here for you too," he stuttered out, covering most of his words with a slight cough brought on by his suddenly tight throat. "Congratulations, Hermione."
Percy placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly before heading back to the castle to make use of the Floo that had been set up for the occasion. He told himself that Hermione would be okay, that she wanted to be left alone, and in any case, he would see her later. None of that helped alleviate the sense of unease that had fallen over him.
As he moved down the stairs, he tried to block out the voice inside his head telling him to walk back in the other direction.