"Caspian Regulus Granger, stop it right now!"
The five-year-old had grabbed hold of paintbrushes smothered in evergreen and smeared the hue along the outside of his paper. Careful black strokes outlined simple stick trees in organized rows. Intense grey eyes followed his brush as he placed globs of color in deliberate spaces, sure to smooth them flat. In all his concentration, his little touch poked out the corner of his mouth. It remained fixed as he worked. Despite the over-the-top wailing of his older sister.
"Mummy, he's ruining it!" The girl shrieked. "I worked hard to show him just how to do it right and he's ruined it. The bugger."
Hermione Granger raised her eyes from her novel. "Madison. Don't call your brother a bugger."
"He doesn't listen," the girl replied in annoyance.
"No, Madi. He can't talk. That doesn't mean he doesn't listen." The witch frowned.
Her daughter was impeccably intelligent, a total sponge for any skill or talent. She floated with grace, beauty and sharp precision. Even in her younger years, she was a perfectionist. It reached epic proportions now that it included control over her younger brother.
It was not done in cruelty. Madison only wished her brother to strive to be like her. She taught her ways to the mute boy with gusto. So much so, that Hermione felt a small twinge of worry extended toward her small brood. She wondered if her daughter worried about him. What would happen if she wasn't there to teach him how to be smart and strong? It was the little act that solidified the fact her daughter was extraordinary and because her brother was below her, it caused her worry.
That protective possessive edge.
Hermione dropped the book to her lap and crawled up toward their crafts table at the edge of their playroom decorated ceiling to floor with all their fascinating artworks. Animals were Madison's favorite. She excelled at crafting a lifelike image from a book or picture. The breathtaking details were lost to children double, triple her age, yet her small mind managed to examine each like it was the most important.
Cass's were more focused on scenes. Forests, and rocks, and shore lines. They reflected his age with sharp edges, thick lines and undefined features. Still, so much work was put into his that it broke her heart to watch him struggle to complete it the way he wished. On those days, he'd bury his face in his hands and stare at it until the conclusion finally dawned on him.
His little pink tongue wiggled as he dropped his finger into the green once more. He flattened his finger against the paper over and over again until a texture of grass waded up through the forest line.
"Madi, let him do his own thing. That is what you're supposed to do," Hermione said softly. "We each have our own way of doing things. Let him find his."
Madison was silent for a while as she watched her little brother work, frown growing deeper as he placed a color in a place she did not approve of. Hermione watched the little girl struggle with her own control. It was the perfectionist of her coming out.
The look so much like her father when he restrained himself from being controlling in the same manner.
It was so odd how traits passed down like that. Though they'd never met, they acted very much the same. So controlled and perfect. They both excelled at everything they put their mind to in such an arrogant fashion, it burned. Facial expressions. Even their sharp tongues spoke toward their relation.
Few knew the truth of Hermione's children's father. She kept that information rather guarded, since he was still a prominent member of the wizarding world. It was the one reason why she never ventured toward magical London with them in tow.
One wisp of wind, and the press would sniff them out.
It was the last thing she wanted for them. They deserved to be sheltered, cared for and protected from the scrutiny that would come from the happenstance of their birth. The entire world would question just from who they sprung from.
That led to another line of questioning, only it'd be from their father whom had no inclination of their existence.
Hermione's hand trembled slightly, incapable of preventing the reaction more than choking on air. The fury from their father would bring her to the brink of collapse, as it did when she was forced to abandon him during the war.
Being on different sides and danger on all sides, she'd had no choice. He would have exposed himself. All for her, their children. She knew it was the only way to ensure he'd look out for himself, and it happened to be the one way that ensured there was no hope for the relationship after the war. It was a betrayal to him. Lack of her faith in him. That cut deeper than any spell could.
A sharp sting came to the corner of her eye as she beheld both of their precious children in their silent focus on their own projects, completely ignorant of their mother's heartbreak all over again. Her chest shuddered. She loved them with all her heart, but it was only a shadow of how much she loved their father, even still. Even though his hatred of her was very clear by the five years of silence since the war, a small piece of Hermione wished for that man to come back to her with love in his heart and not fury.
A clock chimed off in house, snapping Hermione out of her reverie. It was time for them to leave for school. Thank Merlin. She nearly descended down a dark hole of depression, again.
"Madi, please put the paint away," Hermione instructed. She turned and lightly rubbed her son's cheek. "Time to go, darling."
The young girl did as she was told, with the small bit of help from her magic. Magic beyond the abilities of most first years. She guessed it was due to the fact that her parentage held two powerful magicians far above their own peers.
Hermione watched the bottles levitate toward their station. All their craft supplies were organized and labeled properly. Each thing held a single place and belonged nowhere else. Slender pale fingers reached up and twisted each cap tight, a soft smile of satisfaction across her pink lips.
Young Cass reached up for his mother's hand. It was still chubby with bits of baby still left in him. She was ever grateful for his slow aging. He was forever her baby, the last one. If only it lasted longer than a few years. She'd gotten many stolen away from her, thanks to the war.
He had only just been born when the Battle of the Astronomy Tower happened. It was not long after that she was forced to hide them all away from the wizards, unfortunately obscuring their memories of her in the process.
Ever since she reappeared, cleared their memories and took them home, Caspian clung to her in desperation. He hated being anywhere without his mum near. Admittedly, it made Hermione feel good to know just how much her son loved her. She felt the same way.
It ripped her being in two to be parted from them now. Still, each day, the Ministry required her to appear within the building, without children.
Each morning she faced that decision whether to hoard them with her hugs and kisses or to release them to their schools, where they very well belonged. Though it ate away at her soul, she knew that their Muggle education was far more important than her own selfish need to suffocate in their love since it was the only kind she had.
Only a matter of time before the letter came to steal away her daughter. Hogwarts laid claim on the girl before she'd turned two. Magic so easily slid through the little girl's fingers. Hermione cried when she heard. It meant that Madison would be carted away into the Magical World, apart from her mother and into the mouth of the devilish reporters that were sure to notice Hermione at King's Cross with a little girl in hand.
Merlin, it burned her chest.
Soon, the lie would come crashing down. She just felt it.
"Caspian, you've wrecked your shirt. Again." Madi stared at the stain with a wrinkled nose. "You're a mess."
The grey eyes dropped to the droplets of black paint on his trousers he hadn't noticed were there. A soft sloping came to their round curves. His bottom lip puffed out in pout.
Just as she was about to scorn her daughter for being so harsh, the little girl placed her stretched palm out over the stain and closed her eyes with all her might. Creases upon creases crossed her face as she pushed all her magic through her hand.
It took a quiet moment, but black started to rise up from the fabric.
Cass watched with fascination as the paint lifted away from his clothes and onto a nearby to hand towel.
Another second passed before Madi released a large sigh for her little chest. She huffed, face bright red from exertion.
"You don't need to push so hard," Hermione said softly, rubbing her fingers down the sides of Madi's soft cheeks. The poor girl was drained. "Accio chocolate bar."
A bit of chocolate brought the color back to her daughter's face and a jealous brother clambered for a piece of the goodness. Hermione smiled, splitting the piece off before he fell off his chair in excitement.
"I did it though, didn't I?" There was a bit of pride in her tone as she nibbled the piece of candy.
So much of her father.
"Yes, you did. It was excellent. But, you don't have to push yourself to please everyone." She cradled Madi's pale face inside her hands with such sadness. It was the very face of someone she loved so very deeply, in place that were so engrained in parts of her soul. A love that wouldn't fit anyone else. Except her children. "We are allowed to have limits."
"I knew I could do it, Mum. And he can't. I did it because I'm strong enough to," Madi said. "Just like you did during the war. Uncle Blaise said you did something so hard, but you knew you were strong enough to stand it. Not matter how much it hurt you."
She was wiser than the average seven-year-old. Hermione realized just how mature she was for a girl that should be interested in butterfly stickers and clothes. Part of her was proud her daughter was beyond things like that, but truthfully, Madi wasn't entirely uninterested. Madi loved to look pristine, well-groomed and put together. It just wasn't an interest. She had hobbies beyond her appearance.
Madison wanted to be smart. She wanted to be clever. She wanted to excel at everything. She had a different spark than her mother, too. Madison was so sure of herself. Hermione hadn't been any bit confident like that. As a child she was plagued with insecurities that kept her striving toward an edge where she might be worthy.
Her daughter already knew she was worthy, and that, was beautiful.
Hermione regarded her daughter with a kind smile. "Yes, darling. You did brilliant."
"I love you, Mum."
"Love you, too. Now come on. Let's get Cass ready before he starts another one. Then we'll never get out of here on time."
They walked hand in hand to find the third person of their party before they readied themselves with packed lunches, jumpers and shoes then they entered a Muggle neighborhood and walked to their separate Muggle schools.
Caspian was dropped off first. He waddled away, hesitant to leave his mother and sister, as he was every morning. Hermione had to give him an extra gentle nudge toward his teacher before his little legs would start moving. Not without a few glances over his shoulder either.
Madison and Hermione watched him enter the building before turning down a nearby street toward Madison's school. It was a higher end school. Madi was already in gifted programs and was selected to attend an exclusive one to propel her education farther. It was partly what made her daughter an impossible force to deal with. They butted heads constantly.
That inherited stubborn nature reinforced with such pampering and praise.
"Mummy?" The girl asked after an unusually quiet walk.
Hermione guessed something rotated around her little girl's mind, but what, she couldn't tell.
She gripped her hand tighter as they readied to cross the street. "Hm?"
"Will Cass ever talk?"
Oh. That was something new.
She guessed it confused her daughter, who was so confident and sure of the world she lived in. Cass didn't fit. He struggled to be natural like her. Mostly, he preferred to be by himself in silence.
Hermione watched Madi struggle with it with silent hopes that she'd come to terms with his differences.
Safely on the other side of the road, Hermione allowed herself a small sigh. "There is no limit to what anyone can do. He may learn to talk one day."
Warm, brown eyes looked up at her face, uncertain. "Uncle Blaise says we should accept the fact that he'll never talk. Cass is too old to start, he says."
"Well, Blaise is right." Hermione cursed the wizard infinitely for being so candid with a little girl. Their bond was special, she knew and respected that, but Madi was only a child. "Cass may never talk."
"Why?"
The big question. Why. Why didn't her son speak?
A block of a school emerged in view. The slate gray building jutted out in the landscape of suburban pale peach and dull white homes as they lined streets, stuffed full of pristine landscaping with as many colors as England could provide in the constant rain of summer. It was sharp and edged with defined lines of the cube building. It was clearly an intuition. Peaked roofs with decorative molding passed by as they trekked farther down the sidewalk.
"His brain is just a little different. But that doesn't mean he is less than anyone," she added sharply with the intent to instill the message within her daughter. Tolerance. She needed to be taught tolerance over differences. Because there were many differences between her and other witches her age, families of hers, lives like hers and brothers. They were all a stark difference in the magical world rather than the muggle one. She blended in with the muggles quite well. "He will always be your brother and be different. It's our job to love him no matter how much he is able."
"Was Daddy different?"
It was an innocent enough question. The little girl was curious. She knew she had a father. Blaise lifted the veil of curiosity, but within the realm of appropriate regarding their father.
All the girls in her class had dedicated fathers. Madison saw them in the morning when they dropped off at the start of school, and Hermione burned with ache every time there was a long look in their direction. In a normal world without a Dark Lord, Madi would have had a more than loving father with an undying dedication to her every whim.
Hermione Granger knew firsthand just how special it felt to be spoiled with his affection.
"No, darling. It was your mum who was different."
The sidewalk crowded with other students and parents as they moved toward the entrance of the school's grounds. Madi's grip fell from Hermione's. It was the sign of her independence that she exercised in front of her friends. Merlin forbid they knew she had a mother.
A group of chattering girls stood near the teeter-totter, encouraged louder only when Madison approached with a small smirk quipped on her lips. They crooned over her, just as they did every morning.
Even in her youth, she was admired. Her personality drew everyone in, bewitched them to all be in awe of her ability, and, likely, because of her beauty.
Madison had the Malfoy platinum blonde hair in fishtailed braids down her back with a Malfoy pointed nose. The nose of an aristocrat as her father always said. It was small in the middle of her face, pointed in a sharp edge. Her slender frame was longer and leaner than other girls. She was all legs. Taller than her father was at that age.
The only thing Hermione recognized as herself was the pair of large brown eyes that observed everything closely that came close. She knew it was truly the only feature her daughter had that was her own.
Caspian was different. His locks were curly in light brown hue. It was much lighter than her own, but just the same mess when it wasn't dried properly. He boasted a smaller, frail frame and had her face entirely. Except for his eyes, which were his father's grey. He definitely had the demeanor of him as well. Cool and collected.
Madison was more impulsive and quicker to temper, which was much like her father at her age.
It was difficult to decide just who they would more resemble in the end.
Hermione watched her daughter join her friends, careful to not overplay her hand, and with a quick glance over her shoulder, she waved her mother away.
With a long sigh, it was time for Hermione to continue on the journey of the morning to the Ministry.
It was an unceremonious walk until she neared the apparition point. That was where certain reporters found her to snap shots of her coming and going from work only to print them in concern of her appearance and fashion and new beau suggestions. The demeaning experience gave her a slight edge of aggression toward the paparazzi. More than once, she hexed a few trying to steal pictures of her out to dinner, on dates, trying to follow her home.
It never ended. Her fame was just as popular as Harry Potter's and Ron Weasley's and even, the father of her children who was reported on without pictures.
He'd become a recluse since the war and his trial. She could only imagine just how different he was with his father imprisoned, his business booming and his life entirely unknown to the rest of the world. It was unlike him. The wizard loved attention.
Thoughts of him stopped when she reached the café inside the Ministry, as was custom. She only allowed herself the five-minute commute toward the café to ponder his life. Any longer than five minutes gave her an unstoppable wave of sadness.
The dark-haired barista named Clovis appeared, crooked smile. Same as every morning. With all her power, she swallowed back the bitter taste of disappointed hopes, returned a small smile and ordered her usual though she knew he remembered it well.
She arrived at her desk, tea in hand, just as Harry and Ronald swung by for their informal gathering. It was still early. Either of them being at work was a miracle, given their love of sleeping late. But it was their weekly get together.
Lives at the Ministry moved so fast. Their workloads were entirely different. Harry and Ron moved all around, investigating and responding to all sorts of information they obtained. Half the time they weren't even in London.
It left the Golden Trio so little time to gather and spend time with each other before life caught up with them. Hermione's schedule alone was enough to drive anyone crazy.
"Where's the fire?" She teased from behind her cup.
They shook out their tired eyes.
Ron entered first. Taller and wider than he had been only three years ago. Fatherhood did that to him. With a baby that always ate, it was hard to let the little man eat alone, apparently. Luckily, Padma had the decency to hide the sweet treats from him at night.
He grumbled a reply, as he swiped the bakery bag off her desk. Then threw it down when he saw the plain bran muffins inside.
"Really Mione? These awful things? You trying to kill me?"
Harry chuckled, in a more positive mood despite the early hour. He'd just rolled out of bed, it looked. Hair stuck in every direction, red lines of sleep across his skin still.
"Go on, Ron. I'll eat one if you do." Harry tried to encourage his partner on.
Being an Auror demanded a lot from a wizard. Physical endurance was one. The annual test was approaching, and Ron was not ready. He never was, but this year was especially rough. He was at his heaviest and weakest in terms of temptation.
"Don't care if you have one. I just don't want to eat it," Ron snipped. "It's like eating out of a billy goat's trough."
Hermione rolled her eyes. So dramatic. "Ronald Weasley. You will eat those muffins and not complain. You work here so that Padma might be able to stay home with your child. If you lose your job, she may very well have to start work again and your son will never see either of you. You don't want that, do you?"
A flash of anger, then defeat. His head bowed as he grabbed hold of the muffin.
"No. Guess not."
A stream of crumbs fell down his chest as he bit down into his breakfast. At least it was in a neat little pile for Hermione to banish later.
Success of getting him to eat healthier was worth the mess. No matter how much it bothered her.
Her two friends settled into her office chairs, eating at their muffins and lazily moving while she started to arrange her stacks of paperwork for her day. It was the one late night she worked during the week. She managed her workload carefully enough to only need it one night per work week.
Ginny was kind enough to gather Madison and Cass from school and bring them back to her house so they might finish their homework and eat before Hermione got home, quite exhausted and too drained to eat anything other than a finger sandwich.
"So, I heard a rumor the other day," Harry stated evenly. He slouched against the back of the chair, wrinkling his long black Auror robes. "It's about someone we all know."
Hermione was too lost inside her work to pay his gossip any mind. She got enough from Ginny the way it was.
Ron was easier to bait.
"Oh yeah?" He asked with interested eyes. "Who about?"
"Daphne Greengrass," Harry said. "Well, Nott now. But she apparently caught Nott in a compromising position with another witch and has filed for divorce."
The silence dropped like a quill.
"Divorce?" Hermione repeated, surprised.
"Can't do that. Wizards don't allow divorces," Ron snorted, happy to return to his bran muffin now that his hunger was slowly sated.
A pair of round glasses shoved up Harry's nose. "That's what I heard. It's caused a stir everywhere. Word is, Malfoy heir himself went over to talk some sense in her before she ruins herself."
That caught Hermione's breath, as it always did whenever that name was mentioned.
"Ruin herself and her family," Ron replied. "Wizards don't allow divorce. There is no way she'll accomplish anything but get them all in a ruffle before it ends."
"They do allow divorces, Ronald. It just isn't common."
"No, they don't. Can't start the trend," he said. "Can't have everyone getting divorced, now can we? We'd never survive."
Ron turned to his other friend. "It's illegal, isn't it, Harry? Go on. Tell her."
Harry blanched visibly under the weight of his two best friends staring at him expectantly.
"I don't know why you insist on putting me in the middle. You know I don't know these things." Harry sighed. His hand rubbed his chin where a faint stain of facial hair hid.
It was a default answer. The one thing that rubbed Hermione the wrong way. She knew much more than Ron Weasley, something everyone acknowledged quite frequently, yet she was grouped with him just the same.
Frankly, and secretly, she knew firsthand that divorce within the magical world was possible.
"I get it, Mione. Muggles get divorced all the time. But look at the lot of them. They've got so many of them that it doesn't matter if they have children or not. We have to be different. We barely have numbers the way it is, after the war. If we left divorce be accepted into society, it won't be long before magic is lost."
She internally groaned. "Right." Because magic didn't go to Muggleborns or anything or create squibs. It only went to those who bred it.
It didn't matter. Winning an argument against Ron didn't win her anything but frustration at how traditional he'd become.
"Hey, Harry. Ginny can still get the kids after school, right?" She tried not to let her frustration show, but it was difficult to bite back.
He looked up with confusion. "Yeah, I think so. I mean, she said so." He paused for a minute then continued, "Got lots of work to do?"
She pushed her lips together and nodded. "It really piled up this week. I hope I can get it done before the Madi and Cass go to bed. You know how he hates to go bed without me there."
"I can stop by." Harry shrugged. "Help Gin out if he gives her a rough time. You know he loves his Uncle Harry."
"Much more than his Uncle Ron, apparently."
Ron scowled. "It just went off. I didn't even mean it to scare him so much. Just a little instant darkness powder. It didn't hurt him any."
"You did give him nightmares for weeks," Harry added guiltily.
"By accident!" His arms shot in the arm, muffin crumbs sprayed through the room. Hermione grimaced at the mess of brown overtop her charcoal carpet. It'd have to be cleaned up before any of her daily meetings, which happened to start nearly as soon as the actual work day started.
One of whom was important.
She glanced up at the clock, biting her lip. "What time is late in your department?"
"Not for another five minutes. Why?"
The red heads attention snapped to. He noticed Hermione's gaze. It awakened suspicion.
"Not expecting somebody, are you Mione?" He offered up a smile.
This captured Harry's attention suddenly, rather violently. His own neck cracked as he turned to face her.
"You've finally gotten yourself a boyfriend?"
Her brow wrinkled. "Oh honestly. You two. And don't sound so surprised. If I had time, I'd have a boyfriend. Of course, he'd have to be practically on call because my hours are unreliable, at best."
The boys snickered. "How long has it been?"
A bright red blush coursed into her cheeks.
"Good Godric, you boys." She hid her face from their childish smirks. "We've discussed personal limits but apparently we need a refresher course."
She swallowed gently, overcame the mortifying experience with her two boy friends, and pushed further. "I happen to have a meeting with someone absolutely important."
"Oh so he's 'absolutely important' you say," Ron mocked in a high-pitched accent. "Pray, when will Prince Harry arrive?"
Harry chuckled, only encouraged by his friend's indignation. He prodded on with fake British accents only fit in horrid American plays whilst imprinting shame upon their friend's face as time passed in their taunts and boisterous interpretations of crude situations.
One depicted Hermione in a suggestive manner with the Queen of England by her side. It was close enough to the edge of sanity that she nearly banished them out of her office.
Their time up, the two headed down the hallway toward their own offices on another floor, far away from her earshot and eagerness to scold like children. It hadn't changed when she had her own children, as they hoped it would.
Of course, the announcement of her children and their ages shocked them both into the next week.
Shouldn't have been, she thought. Harry and Ron were easily her children first and required much more supervision than her own two actual children.
"Scourgify."
The crumbs banished off her floor, a sharp shade of grey once more. Tan hardly matched the décor of her office or the pristine condition of every trinket, shelf and file held within. Hermione kept her office tidied in a constant state of sameness. Nothing out of place. Everything always the same.
Pictures of her kids were hidden in a drawer locked by her magical signature, protected inside a charmed envelope. Their drawings, report cards, notes were safely tucked inside, so that if a snooping reporter happened to find her office unlocked. There was no way that their privacy would be compromised because of the Ministry's incompetence.
She was actually resentful that she was required to pursue a job within the Ministry as a member of the Golden Trio. It was the only expectation of her that she followed. Where in the world could she go? The Ministry needed her. Society needed her. But at the moment she was pulled apart.
Pulled between what she wanted and what she had to do to keep afloat.
It would only be a few more years of peace before the press discovered her secret. Secret meaning dark and powerful, twisted and life altering.
Life shattering for one.
She resented that fact. It was a burden she bared alone, with two very small children without a father, and yet it was him that would be changed when papers flashed the headlines ten feet high for all to see. He was sure to see. It was too much for his realm of control.
Perhaps it was true and he didn't care about her as he led her to believe. Years of silence was not exactly his style, except for his anger.
"Good morning, Miss Granger."
A preppy young assistant walked into her office, hair clipped back in a tight bun for her black locks that normally touched the small of her back, four-inch heels underfoot so that when she walked against carpet the boards vibrated her presence, and a large clipboard in hand. She was plain looking in the face, not that Hermione cared. The girl was the most organized assistant. The very best.
"I have all the notes needed for the meetings today, your first appointment will be here in about ten minutes and you have an urgent request from a Healer at St. Mungos."
Concise and to the point. Hermione would be giving an outstanding reference if her assistant moved on. Witches needed to be more like that. A strong, collected force in the work place and world.
Hermione glanced over her own schedule at her desk. "I do not have an appointment with any Healers. Did they say what it was regarding?"
"Sorry, Miss Granger. No, they didn't." An apologetic look crossed her face. "However, they did leave a message for you to head over to their clinics in your next available time slot. It is something best discussed in person, or so they said. Should I contact them and request more information?"
Hermione forced thoughts back and forth. She was incredibly busy today. The only available time slot was during her lunch break, but it was stated to be urgent.
"That won't be necessary. Thank you, Alizon. I'll Floo over during lunch to meet with them," Hermione stated, rubbing her temples tightly. The stress of the day ahead already pushed tightly against her mind. "Notify them of my plans, would you?"
The assistant dipped her head. "Yes, miss. I shall do that. Is that all you require before your first meeting?"
"That will be all. Leave the notes, though. I'll review them before my meetings."
A large stack was placed in her open palm. It pushed her knuckles down to her desk in a heavy slap. She winced as she pulled red fingers out from under the fresh parchment.
Meetings with alphas of werewolf clans happened this afternoon. It was a new project Hermione agreed to take on. House Elf rights were already established within her second year at the Ministry, thanks to her pestering work ethic that haunted many of the elder wizards left in the Ministry. They hadn't the energy to fight her. They pushed her legislation into law, hoping to satisfy her need, but only to find out that it was hardly the end of it.
Centaurs and werewolves were next on the agenda. She'd been researching all she could, all she was able to accomplish on the good sides of the clans to learn about their lives. All legislation had to comply and encompass the long-standing rituals of the creatures so that they weren't prosecuted for any ancient requirements of their kind.
It was a difficult process. Patience was an essential virtue. Ministry intervention was never seen as a good thing, even by the creatures, and Hermione's bleeding heart for their suffering wasn't exactly welcome. They wanted secrecy. They wanted to be left alone. Finally, it came to reason and polite debate over the benefits of rights imbedded in law.
A secluded pack of werewolves had just agreed to meet her for a discussion. No promises were made. She tried not to hold any hopes over the meeting either. But there was a subtle excitement over progress with her project.
So far, she'd only researched and interviewed a few werewolves for their opinions on rights. Legal writing hadn't even been outlined yet. But, she knew that it had to come soon. Research only lasted so long before action was required.
She scanned through lines and lines of notes regarding the new clan of werewolves with complete memorization of the information that she hadn't heard the office door click open. It wasn't until she felt a pair of intense eyes on her cheek that the hairs on the back of her hair stood on end.
Someone was there.
She glanced up and was met with a pair of slanted dark eyes that she recognized immediately.
"Don't you get tired of sneaking up on people?" She asked, hand over her rapidly thumping heart.
The face twisted into a cruel smirk. "Not when I get to see them react like that."
Hermione rolled her eyes as she stood from her desk. Her arms opened toward the wizard and he entered them without hesitation that would have been a surprising act at the start of their friendship years earlier during their time at Hogwarts but now it was second nature for the Gryffindor to collect him in her arms just the same as she did for Harry or Ron.
"Long time, no see, stranger," she said with a soft smile, releasing his custom-tailored suit from her grasp. The blue strands caressed her fingers gently. "How has Italy been treating you?"
The wizard brushed down the length of his suit coat, unbutton the single button at his chest, and settled in the chair that Ron has claimed not ten minutes ago with his stack of muffin crumbs. If she mentioned it, it'd be met with a curled scowl.
Blaise placed his arms on the rests. "Filled with beautiful women and sunny beaches. The complete opposite of England. That's why you should come."
"As tempting as that sounds…" she trailed off for the sake of her point.
Beautiful women were not her style, no matter how much she longed for sandy beaches drenched in warm light.
"Can't keep yourself in the place forever," he said in a low tone. His meaning, clear as well.
She casted him a tense glare. He was so unaffected by her temper that he ignored it completely.
"It'll be less suspicious if you move now, not when Madi turns eleven and is expected to attend Hogwarts," Blaise added with a sigh. "How long do you think you can hide them then?"
A quill tip snapped under her finger. "Is this why you scheduled a meeting? One that doesn't concern a magical creature of any kind?"
"One of the only ways to have a discussion with you anymore. You're always here or out traveling. The Ministry is the only one that requires you to remain in one place long enough for me to get close so we can have this bloody conversation," he replied.
He sat so still in his seat, without a fidget or adjustment for comfort. His dark eyes stared directly at her, the intensity so palpable that it was so very clear why he was a Slytherin and dedicated friend to…him.
An audible groan withheld, she opened up her desk and grabbed hold of another quill. "It is a waste of resources to schedule appointments that are unrelated to Ministry business. You could have called."
"You're stalling. You know I'm right and you'd rather deny the reality of the situation."
"Don't be ridiculous," she hissed.
His eyebrows quirked. "I'm only trying to help. You know the position I'm in. How close I am to the reality. I'm doing what I can to protect you. If you haven't read the papers…"
Hurt shot through her heart.
"I don't want to hear about his life!" She exclaimed suddenly.
Their eyes met, neither surprised with each other's reaction, or lack thereof. It was an understanding between the pair not to mention things they didn't have to. That was one thing they didn't have to discuss.
Hermione charmed all her newspapers to exclude reports of Draco Malfoy and his life. She stole glances in shop windows as she passed, but that was it. Those windows were hard enough to rip herself away from; such feelings had no space in her home where she could obsess.
Still, she knew not much was reported on him. All her papers showed a black space where his name was mentioned, and there were very few blank spaces in her news.
"Just, consider it," Blaise said softly. "Please."
Looks like happily ever after was ending sooner than she thought.