Harry Potter & his world were created by and belong to J.K. Rowlings. This is a fan fiction.
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It was the next morning and Hermione prepared a fine breakfast of oatmeal, raisins, and water, sat down at her fine kitchen table in her fine dining area. The loft was fine, if not small, and thus, somewhat more affordable. She had been a major part of defeating evil when she became an adult, but now that she was an adult, the struggles were different. Having defeated evil left her free to find a place in the world. It was a surprise. And it meant cutting expenses while trying to be creative. So, today, Hermione had cut up the raisins that she put in her oatmeal: creative and cost effective.
Where could she do work that added value to things people would want to buy? Trading? Generating spelled objects? Generating spells themselves? It was the post war boom, and Hermione had not yet found her feet.
The only thing of interest that had happened around Hermione recently was Draco's duplicity. Draco's duplicity, literal, meant he met her as a doppelganger and then let her out as himself, which seemed to actually be more polite than to meet as the real version and then expel her as doppelganger. And frankly, she'd done enough of these hiring interviews - they were by the book - why not send doppelgangers to do the work? She thought about sending a doppelganger of herself to the ministry today to give the interview, but the wards at the doors would probably notice and repel the construct.
Hermione thought about making a doppelganger to stand up and wash the dishes now. She could think of no compelling reason not to, and so, lumping together some uneaten oatmeal, she looked about and thought. No harm no foul. But she still didn't give it life. "With my luck, it would want my life" she thought, and mashed the oatmeal back down into a lump before eating it.
On schedule with her magical agenda, Hermione went to the ministry and found the appointed offices for her interviews. It was the Office of Review and Oversight for Class A-J, L-N Curse Breaking. The job was one of keeping track of curse breakers who did specific curse breaking spells. It was a office on a 5.3rd floor, in a room filled with filing cabinets that became walls between the various walks and desks. One got the feeling that information came here to die in cabinets that squeaked and were only opened in order to make a deposit or to check on contents. It felt like a basement and everything here, from cabinets to clothes, to the air itself, seemed to take on a shadowy hue somewhere between beige and grey.
Her interviewer met her at the door to the office, introduced himeslf (Mr. Burlywood), and led her down the warren of filing cabinets to a alcove he called his office. He offered her a grey chair and sat behind his faded desk.
"You come very well recommended" said her interviewer, looking at her recommendations.
"I was happy to get this interview. Thank you for seeing me," she replied.
"Your resume and recommendations shine brighter than your reputation," he said, now reading her resume. It was a compliment.
"Thank you very much."
When he was done taking his time slowly reading the obvious document, Mr. Burlywood looked up at the woman sitting before him. "I should tell you that we are seeing three other people for this job, and one of them has alot more experience in ministry curse breaking. He worked in the division of curse creation for twelve years before applying for this job."
"While I did not work for the ministry producing curses, during the war, I learned a great deal about working with, creating, deflecting, and understanding curses, and this would help me do this job well," said Hermione. She thought to herself: How do you put "fought in war" on a resume?
"Ah, no, he learned the ministry filing methods and civil service codes to the letter. We find that a great deal of the experience people need in work like ours is experience being meticulous and exact. Are you a good detail person?"
Hermione explained that she was always clear on the details and always kept track of the bigger picture and how the details fit into it. She felt, somehow, not that there was much noticeable change in the bland man's countenance, that she had not answered the question right. The greyness on his face tinged a shade darker as he dipped his head and didn't look at her so directly. He asked the question again.
"Do you work well with details?" he asked.
Hermione mentioned that her best work was in highly detailed areas where specifics mattered and changed all the time. She mentioned specific potions brewed and spells cast.
"Yes," said the grey man. He did not make eye contact while saying "yes." Then he looked up, and his face was impassive, done. "Thank you for coming in. We will be in touch," he said.
"May I ask when you will be making a decision about this?" said Hermione, standing up. She was stiff from the short time sitting in this mid-floor office, and her throat felt raspy from the drying air in here.
"Later tomorrow, I expect" said Mr. Burlywood. He showed her out, through the corridors of cabinets, to the elevator. He shook her hand, and the bland polite things one says at times like this seemed wasted, but Hermione said them anyways. She waited by the elevator, her escort returned to his burrow, and when the doors opened, she got in, pretending to pay attention but not really looking around. The doors closed. The elevator went up, and not down. Hermione decided it didn't matter, and pushed the ground floor button.
"Hello, Ms. Granger. Is your head in the game?" asked a familiar voice.
Hermione looked, and sure enough, it was Draco Malfoy. She squinted, and decided it really was Draco Malfoy. He held his head up and smiled like a model. The doppelganger had more gravitas.
"Why didn't you hire me?" she asked. She had nothing to lose, and it was nice to be able to ask a question.
"What, and take you away from this?" he asked, waving at the elevator, which happened to be in the Ministry of Magic.
"I'm here for a job which tomorrow they will give to someone who has 12 more years experience than I do in filing papers and making no trouble."
"Ah, Denner, well, then, he won't bother me anymore."
"Who did you hire instead of me?" she asked Malfoy.
"No one. The ministry told me I can't do the research," he said, the doors opening and him stepping out. "Show up at my place tomorrow without an appointment, and we can talk again." He was out, and the elevator doors closed. The elevator stayed there, paused. Hermione frowned. Then she realized, hit the button again, and the elevator took her down. This was happening too much.
Hermione wasn't reading into it, because that would be insane, but she'd been missing details like this for months. There was no curse -- she'd looked -- she had Harry look, too --- so it was just bad luck, and there was not a thing she could do about it. Maybe that's the definition of adulthood: unremitting bad luck.
Hermione went outside, looked up, saw the clouds. She looked to the left, down the street, and saw what seemed to be a wall of rain. Hermione got soaked by a unrelenting rain storm of fast and unbelievable force. Many people didn't know it had rained that day, but Hermione was doing drying spells for the rest of afternoon.
Hermione started to parse the things he had said:
"Show up at my place without an appointment," she thought. She looked at her agenda, and it was clear. "I wonder if he does interviews over food?" she thought, and planned to go at 1 PM, though not hungry, just in case, but still hoping.
"The ministry told me I can't do the research," she thought. That could simply mean he didn't file the proper papers. In a grey office. But you'd think being a Malfoy would make that problem go away.
And you'd think being Hemione Granger would make the first year out of Hogwarts a snap, too.
She tossed on muggle clothes, called Harry, and he met her for pizza.
"Malfoy?" he sputtered when she told him.
"You can avenge my bones when it's over." she said.
"He's the one who was pushing for permission to research life changing magical conditions, you know," said Harry, thinking about this.
"He was trying to redefine "harm" in the "do no harm" policies for hex lifting."
"Yes -- so you do know about it?"
"That's all I know. It sounds like a back door into the dark arts."
"He's trying to develop a cure to magical conditions like lycanthropy and some insanities."
"Huh."
"Hermione?" Harry asked, over cheese, bread, and red sauce.
"Huh?" she said over her cheese, bread, red sauce, and vegetables.
"If he hurts you, I promise to do him in, but frankly, he may be the only one around doing research you're interested in."
"Everyone else is scared to look like they are doing Dark Arts these days," she said.
"And Malfoy is going to look like the Dark Arts no matter what, so he's got no reputation to protect," Potter finished.
"Wish me luck."
"I hope there's ugly, nasty, boring, poisonous, and complicated stuff, galore!" he said, cheerily.
"You."
They parted with pecks and hugs, him walking her home and her going in and getting her rest.
She had a unscheduled appointment tomorrow, and so to bed -- she wanted to be in shape to crash an interview.
