Thank you for the outpouring of support for just one chapter! I'm blown away. I'm updating late tonight since I will leave for work early tomorrow, and refuse to pull myself out of bed early.
This chapter was beta'd via Grammarly, and all mistakes are my own.
Hermione would have preferred to wake to sunlight streaming through her window, bathing her in a warm light that curled her toes. Rarely, she found, did things work out that way in England. Instead, she was jarred awake in the middle of the night by a fierce clap of thunder that could have rattled the Gods.
Sitting ramrod straight in her bed, her hand rose to her throat, her pulse thrumming wildly. She peered out the window from her bed, finding that it was still dark, the stars suspended in the sky, and the sun wouldn't rise for several hours yet. She donned her slippers, wrapping a thick wool cloak around her frame before leaving her chambers.
Theo was fast asleep, or possibly he wasn't, but she had no desire to know about his nighttime activities.
Hermione padded down the corridors, her wand tucked neatly up her sleeve. She passed the lanterns, each springing to life to light the way as she walked by. It was a handy charm that had been used in the castle for centuries.
Illuminated by the shallow light that ebbed and flowed as a flame did, Hermione made her way down to the library. The entryway was made of glass, coloured fragments that caught the light of the moon, or the sun, and came to life. In the glass woven by magic, there was a mural.
She'd been taught the story since she could understand it. She recognized the Founders of Hogwarts, Merlin and Morgana, and her ancestors. She didn't think of the legends as much anymore now that she had reached adulthood. Still, Hermione paused to look upon one of her ancestors, a large man embedded into the glass who went by the name of Thassos Nott.
His portrait was on the second floor, and he sometimes spoke to her as she passed by. He was an interesting character, far too stuck in the traditions she so loathed for her to really carry on a conversation with him. Her father had sent Thassos to pop into the portraits of Hogwarts once or twice in her time there.
In his hand was a locket, presumably Salazar Slytherin's. She'd never understood why he was holding it in the first place, why it would be incorporated into a mural to showcase the heritage that their world—her family—had been founded on. It was only a locket, a trinket. The mural moved, the scene playing out, and Thassos handed the locket to Salazar, and his gaze turned onto Hermione.
Well, not really. While the mural was animated, he wasn't looking at her.
Hermione quietly opened the door and slipped inside. It had been little over a week since her father had informed her that there were new Potions texts, ripe for the taking. More often than not, Thoros Nott was a busy man, and he truly didn't have time to chase her around their ancestral home and force her to marry.
Though he would have liked to. Even if he was mainly a figurehead for the Wizengamot now, the bulk of the king's power having been usurped by them over a hundred years ago, he did have things to do. But she wasn't at all surprised when she found him sitting at his desk in the corner of the library.
"Father," she greeted as she fell into a seat across from him. The cushion was red, plush against her bum, and the armrests were intricately crafted. "What has you up so late?"
"Thunder." his voice was dry, and he didn't look up from the parchment he held his wand to. "I assume it's the same for you?"
She nodded. "What are you doing?"
He tabled his wand, resting his chin on his knuckles. "You might find it interesting. Perhaps you could help me see it from your views rather than the normal stereotypes."
Hermione perked up at that. It wasn't often that he asked for her opinion, usually because she offered it anyway, and loudly. "What is it?"
He sighed. "A woman named Dolores Umbridge has proposed a law to counter one that was proposed by the Department of Magical Creatures. Mind you, I'm not supposed to be involved in any laws before they pass through the Wizengamot."
She knew. They came to him after being passed or denied, and typically it was all for show anymore. "Then why are you looking into it? Surely this would cause you problems?"
He pulled his reading glasses that had already been sliding down his nose from his face. "I'm quite certain it would make several individuals angry, but it's a law that would interest you. As much as I would prefer you to simply keep quiet when it comes to politics, I'm well aware you won't."
She blinked. Must he sound so foreboding? "I'm not going to be a nice little house witch, Father. It's not my desire."
"Yes. Well, if your desire is to speak in politics, I plan to show you how to do it correctly lest you make a fool out of yourself."
"You mean lest I make a fool out of this house, don't you?"
He glared at her, his muted expression lit by the candlelight. "No, Hermione. I mean you."
She shut up at the tight expression on his face.
"The Department of Creatures has proposed a bill for werewolves. I'm told that they had a plethora of plans for other creatures that are considered half-beings,"
"It's disrespectful to call them half-beings. I've spoken to the centaurs in the Forbidden Forest, and if they were to organize themselves, they may not overthrow the Ministry, but they would put a large dent in it."
The conversation had scarcely begun and he already looked exhausted. The lines and wrinkles of his face were drawn into a frown. "I think I'll ignore the part where you spoke with centaurs,"
"I was fine."
"That is not my point. As to your point, would it be terribly much for me to ask you to not convince the centaurs to overthrow our government?" His eyes reading over the parchment he had no doubt already memorized, he continued, "It's a nice dream. They propose that werewolves should be able to hold a standard job, and receive a steady income."
Hermione nodded. "They absolutely should. It's cruel any other way."
Her father continued without acknowledging her. "To which part of the proposed bill includes a clause where employers can no longer discriminate against those infected with Lycanthropy. They propose that there is a simple way to fund the high demand of Wolfsbane, which is to increase a sales tax on non-essential goods. The tax would be higher for the wealthy, and to be quite frank, if they taxed only one of the Sacred 28, it would cover the demand." He looked to her with a sharp look.
"I know. That doesn't leave this room. I know when we are only debating, Father. I would never try to undermine you."
"Umbridge, she's an utterly foul woman, called the bill an abomination. She details how multiple lives have been lost at the hands of werewolves, the lives of children, and how they are a menace on society."
It was the same drivel that she'd heard for years, the same nonsense that had led to Remus being sacked as a professor. Hermione was tired of it. She waved her hand angrily, wanting nothing more than to scorch the offending parchment where it sat. "Of course they're dangerous. How can they not be when we aren't helping? The humane thing to do is to supply Wolfsbane. Father, we are in a danger of our own design. We say how they are dangerous, but we do nothing to help them."
"Interesting." he murmured. "It could be argued that they don't deserve the humane thing, dear daughter," there was a spark in his eye, and she knew he was thriving on their debate now, "because they are not human. Or perhaps they would rather vote to put them down like a rabid animal?"
"Remus is an animal once a month."
His eyes drew together. "Don't make this about one werewolf, Hermione. You'll lose the battle before it's begun."
She drew a sharp breath. "They transform once a month. Re—some werewolves have locked themselves up so they don't kill anyone. I would pay the fees to have Wolfsbane supplied with my own vault, and we both know that it would never empty it."
He held a hand up and she was certain she had failed his little test. "That's an honorable claim, Hermione. I know how much you care, but you know as well as I that Ministry laws cannot be funded by the royal family. It's why our duty to the Wizarding World is paramount. Our citizens will pay for the decisions we make, literally and figuratively."
She sighed, and nodded. "I understand, Father. Forgive me, but I'm not sure what you want out of this conversation with me." Hermione didn't like to admit she didn't understand, but it was fruitless.
He laughed. "I suppose I can't blame you for that given how unlike me it is to ask for your opinion."
Hermione folded her arms across her chest and crossed one leg daintily over the other. "Too true. You normally pull Theo aside for this. Well warranted to do so given that he will assume your position one day. Why not discuss this with him? Not that I'm displeased to discuss it myself."
Father smiled. "Your brother can't convince me why this is for the betterment of society. He'll repeat what you've told him, but he lacks the passion to see it come to pass. You, however, are fuming at the thought of Dolores Umbridge speaking out against your views. Merlin, your hair is crackling."
She flushed and smoothed down her hair. It was a habit she'd had ever since childhood, and it was mortifying for the untamed mess to start sparking. "You want my opinion?" She asked. "Why?"
"I want you to change my mind, truly convince me why the Department of Creatures should win this plight of theirs. If you convince me, I will see to it that this passes through the Wizengamot."
Her eyes narrowed immediately. "And what do you want in return?"
Because he might not be hinging a law on her cooperation as that was no way to rule, but to even have the chance have her voice heard, that was sure to cost her.
"I'm not asking you to pick a match the night of, but I'm asking you to attend an event in your honor next weekend."
It left a foul taste in her mouth. She would have to wine and dine with only the best of Purebloods. She would be on the arm of men who salivated at her dowry, the power she represented, and she hated all of it immensely.
"If I convince you, I'll go without a fight. I'll let the seamstress fit me for an abominably fitted dress. I'll let them pin my hair in an extravagant, and wholly unnecessary style. But if I don't convince you due to the fact that you already know you won't change your mind—"
He smirked, and fingered the parchment before him. "If you are unable to sway me, you'll still attend the party. You'll just be less agreeable."
She rolled her eyes. "Yes, Father."
"Excellent, shall we take a walk through the gardens?"
"It's storming!"
"Are you a witch or aren't you? Cast a water repelling charm, little flower. I'd like to go for a walk. At least we can see lovely sights while we talk about such a dreadful topic."
Hermione stood and glanced down at her attire. Still clad in pajamas and a robe, she said, "I'll change quickly and meet you downstairs."
Father's laugh echoed as she tore out of the library. "Slow down, Hermione! You'll trip on your robes and knock your teeth out!"
"I'm fine!" She hollered. The torches in the corridor roared to life one more as she passed them, dying just as quickly as they had flickered to life.
Light seeped out from beneath Theo's door, but she knew that there was a silencing charm fixed in place. Knowing that her best friend was in the room with her brother, it was awkward at times, but it was simply the way things were done now. Being honest was what Theo longed for, but there was too much at stake.
Hermione rushed to change into a comfy pair of jeans, quickly donning a maroon jumper Daphne had left in her chambers. She tucked her wand into the cashmere pocket, and kicked her slippers off. Trading up to a pair of worn trainers that had seen her through the last few years, Hermione flew down the moving flights of stairs.
"What are you doing?" A voice called out as she weighed the option of waiting or just leaping across the gaps that the stairway left as it swung around. "Merlin, it only takes a moment to come back around."
Hermione bounced down the stairs, jumping off from the third step and landed at her father's feet. "That takes too long. Shall we?" She spelled her hair into a loose knot atop her head, wishing it looked more like the styles in Witch Weekly rather than a dragon's egg, but nonetheless.
After charming her clothes to repel the rain, she followed her father into the open space, and counted the cobblestones as they made their way through the maze of hedges and into the garden.
There were so many wonderful things about magic, the ability to have an infinite amount of possibilities at your fingertips. She was twenty-one and it was still all so mind-blowing that she was gifted this life, to be born into it, to grow into a witch.
"Why do you believe we should supply Wolfsbane?"
Focusing on the dimly lit path before them, Hermione raised her chin a bit. "From a practical standpoint rather than a personal one, we hold all of the power to protect ourselves from werewolves. Supplying it wouldn't hurt even the poorest families, especially if it's taxed on a scale. It stands to reason that we should protect society, but what if we could do both?"
He gave a slight nod of his head. "Some would say it's not the job of Wizards to protect them."
"If they insist slaughtering werewolves is preferable to helping them, I think it's time to stop pretending the werewolves are the problem."
He chortled. "I would offer a sack of galleons to see you say that to the Wizengamot."
Hermione stretched her fingers out, the pads of her fingers brushing against a violet petal of a nearby flower. "Arrange it, I'll do it for free." she muttered seriously, "I'll take out a full cover spread in the Daily Prophet."
"And put yourself at the mercy of that nutter Skeeter, and her possessed quill?" he snorted. "Unlikely. Do you want to change the werewolf regulations because you know and admire one?"
She was offended he would even ask, but it was all a game and her father played politics perfectly. He was usually a step ahead, just as he was right then.
"I would like to live in a world where it's not a mob mentality. Society is so against werewolves leading normal lives, but what if I were infected? No, listen to me before you brush me off," she murmured as he raised a hand to cut her off. "The Lupins were targeted by Fenrir Greyback when Remus was a child, when he was turned into a werewolf. You're a stickler for procedure, for my safety,"
His lips twisted into a grimace. "I'm not a stickler," he muttered under his breath. "I am allowed to care for my children's safety."
She bit her lip, wondering if this was a time where she could truly consider bringing up what she wondered about the war, Voldemort, and all that had come before she was an infant.
"If it were me after the war, and I don't bring it up a cheap shot, would you have cast me aside? Would you not have a daughter? Would I have been cast aside?"
He was silent as they strolled along the garden path, his features lit by the moon overhead and she focused on the droplets of water falling to the ground. "I would have moved worlds to be sure you were accepted in society."
Her father's solemn admission made her heart clench, but there was no time to dally over sweet words. Hermione raised her head, and stepped in front of him, placing her hands on her hips. "Don't make this about one hypothetical werewolf, Father. You'll lose the battle before it's even begun."
The only sign that she'd taken him by surprise at all was the slight widening of his eyes. "I'll arrange a meeting in the morning with the Department of Creatures before I throw my weight around."
"You're planning to just pop into the Ministry? Father, even I know you can't be seen swaying decisions at all."
"Oh, yes," he said as if he'd completely forgotten. "You're right, my dear. Whoever shall I send in my place? Perhaps I could find someone at the last minute to have brunch with Amos Diggory at," Father made a show of raising his wrist as if checking a watch, which he never wore, "eleven o'clock this morning?"
"Hmm," she laughed quietly. "Who indeed? Perhaps you could have someone who is brazenly passionate about creature rights meet with him under the guise that it's to invite his son to this event you painstakingly planned for you still unwed daughter?"
His head fell back as he laughed loudly, the sound sending the birds scattering from the trees. "You would have made a brilliant Slytherin." he mused.
She beamed with pride. "I make an even better Gryffindor? Eleven o'clock? It rather sounds like you already made these plans. Did you believe you would be convinced?"
"By you?" he snorted. "I knew you'd never let me go until you had forced me to play my hand. You have a dress appointment tomorrow at three in the afternoon. Do not," He tapped her nose, "be late."
Chapter Three Preview:
"It's crooked, darling."
She jumped, her eyes shooting open as the portrait of her mother came to life. The corner of her lips twitched and she was laughing before she knew she'd started. "It's nice to hear your voice, Mum."