"For the very last time Granger, no!" Cuthbert Mockridge's moustache trembled with the barely restrained rage that was apparent in the straining veins on his forehead.
"But Mr Mockridge, we have an unprecedented opportunity to really help-"
"READ IT!" His voice went up several octaves as he pointed a stubby, trembling finger at the gilded words emblazoned across the wall, which glistened as if newly painted.
"Sir." Hermione began, trying to calm herself. "I don't need to read it, I know what it says. But surely you must understand that a clause created in 1750 doesn't necessarily apply to-"
"I said, read it, Granger! Best friend of Harry Potter or not, I swear by Merlin's grave if you disobey me again, today will be your last day in this office!" His moustache quivered once more and his rapidly purpling cheeks continued to tremble long after his jaw had finished moving.
"I will not. I am not in school Mr Mockridge and I will not be forced to read a statement which isn't only entirely medieval but is also utterly moronic." A gasp went up around the office and many people took a step back as Cuthbert Mockridge stepped forward, his somewhat plump body completely eclipsing the slight frame of Hermione Granger.
"I will do it, Granger, don't think I won't march to the minister right this instant and get you fired. I am in charge of this department and I will not stand for insubordination!"
"You, Mr Mockridge, do not frighten me. You are more than welcome to go to Kingsley, but might I remind you that we fought a war together? Stood alongside some of the most powerful magical beings in history to defeat Lord Voldemort, together. That creates a bond for a lifetime, one that I sincerely doubt will be dampened by you being 'in charge of this department.' I have faced Death Eaters, giants and Voldemort himself. I will not be bullied by a man who spent the war hiding behind the skirts of his wife!"
"HOW DARE YOU! GET OUT THIS INSTANT, YOUR DAYS HERE ARE FINISHED GRANGER, DO YOU HEAR ME? FINISHED!"
"I will leave, but only because I cannot bear to be in the company of such a close-minded dullard!"
Only a half hour later found Hermione Granger once again, back in front of the Minister for Magic as he chuckled his deep, rich laugh into his coffee mug.
"'I will not be bullied by a man who spent the war hiding behind the skirts of his wife…' You actually said that?"
"I did." Hermione ground out, her arms folded across her chest.
"And you, Hermione Granger, used name dropping in an argument? I don't know whether to be impressed or ask a security question to be sure of your true identity."
She grimaced as she recalled that particular part of the disagreement. "Yes, well, it isn't usually something I bring up. But he was so sure that you would fire me, it sort of slipped out." Her cheeks coloured as she observed Kingsley, utterly unimpressed at his joviality. "I must say minister, I'm pleased you're finding this whole situation so amusing."
"You even sound like him, you know." A sudden oppressive blanket fell across them both as Hermione's shoulders slumped.
"Yes, well, spending an inordinate amount of time brewing with him means I may have picked up on one or two of his mannerisms."
"What was it like? No one ever got close enough to truly know him." Kingsley placed his mug upon his desk, as the ministry logo swirled and was replaced by 'ministers do it better' her mouth quirked upward in amusement.
"I didn't truly know him Kingsley, he barely spoke two words to me." Her tone was regretful, so much so that even Kingsley felt the need to reassure her.
"But he let you in Hermione, he brewed alongside you. You know full well you weren't the first to ask but you were the only one he said yes to."
"He didn't exactly say anything Kingsley, he just raised that sardonic eyebrow and turned away from me to continue brewing. I, in my typical know-it-all manner, took that as acceptance." She smiled at the memory before her eyes narrowed as she looked over the minister, who, now that she looked closely, seemed entirely too preoccupied with his nails.
"You've mentioned him with a frequency that is not only unheard of but is decidedly unsubtle for a Slytherin." Hermione folded her arms and observed him carefully.
"Ha!" He laughed loudly and stood, coming around his large desk to stand before her. "I will admit to having an ulterior motive in mentioning Severus. However, I won't reveal it just yet. I understand Harry has already had you pay our old friend a visit?"
"How do you-" She began before huffing out a breath of frustration at Harry's lack of secrecy, "Harry asked your opinion on Professor Snape and you, knowing my previous history with the professor and my animagi status, suggested the plan to Harry."
Kingsley neither confirmed or denied the accusation, but the knowing glint to his eyes had Hermione letting out a strangled growl of frustration.
"And poor, susceptible, Gryffindor that he is, Harry didn't see your manipulations for what they really are."
"Come now Hermione, 'manipulations' is a little harsh."
"Is it?" She countered, only realising she was pacing in front of the Minister as she swung to face him mid-stride. "Harry wanted me to see Professor Snape out of concern for his welfare and a desire to have a bond with the only living magical being with a close relationship to his mother. You, on the other hand, have ulterior motives that you won't share with me. Slytherin!"
Kingsley was making no attempt to hide his amused smile as he let Hermione rant until she ran out of steam. It was only when she finally threw herself into the armchair before his desk that he began speaking again.
"I did not manipulate Harry. I suggested an idea that benefits us all. After all, you would not have gone if you didn't have an ulterior motive of your own, would you?"
She opened her mouth to refute the accusation but he held up a single hand to stall her second wind.
"Hermione, let us be honest with each other, we are both adults and colleagues. You wanted to see Severus as much as Harry. I happened to have an interest in Severus Snape and watching a powerful wizard go to waste when he could be out here living and enjoying the world he saved, pains me. I believe he deserves to live the life that was denied him for so many years whilst under the service of two masters, each seeking to use him for their own ends."
"And you aren't seeking to use him for your own ends now, Kingsley?" She shrewdly asked, with all the fire of a protective instinct she knew she had no right to feel, over a man she barely knew.
"I can promise you that I only want the best for Severus Snape, and for you. Now, this discussion is mute as I know you have continued to visit without Harry's knowledge. I just wanted you to know that you can talk to me, should you not wish to get Harry's hopes up." He eyed her knowingly and she had a feeling that all he was missing was a white beard and glasses, the twinkle in his eye was so familiar to her. "Now, you are going to take a few non-negotiable days off due to stress. I will smooth things over with your departmental head. Monday you are going to return to work and for Merlin's sake, try not to insult him again."
"But I-"
"NON-negotiable, Hermione."
"Fine."
"This is the part where you thank me for my valuable time."
"Thank you for your valuable time, Minister."
His rich laughter followed her out the door and Hermione marvelled at how Kingsley's laughter always made you feel lighter and never mocked, even if you were the butt of his joke.
Once home and nursing a cup of coffee, Hermione took the opportunity to review her behaviour and the outburst which would have made her younger self recoil with horror. The very thought of imagining a young Hermione Granger's reaction to hearing her yelling at her superior and not only being thoroughly disrespectful, but also adding a personal insult into the mix. Professor Snape would have been proud, she realised and smirked wryly at the irony as she sipped her coffee.
It wasn't that she hadn't tried to gain his approval, his notice or even his acknowledgment of her existence. They had spent hours together, brewing in the basement of 12 Grimmauld Place or his private potions laboratory at Hogwarts, and she could honestly count the conversations they'd had on one hand.
She had been so sure she could get him to open up to her, if enough time passed and he became comfortable in her presence. The problem was that he never had. He'd remained fully buttoned up both physically and metaphorically, in her presence. Answering her relevant questions, if it was necessary he do so, with a clipped tone in as few words as possible. Her not-so-relevant questions were answered with a cutting glare. His turned back and silent disapproval soon quelled her enough that she had stopped asking.
They had brewed together in relative peace but she had always had this churning need in her stomach in his presence, a need to be recognised as a fellow intellect, perhaps. A need that he had never answered, he had all but ignored her up till the very last time she had seen him before the murder of Albus Dumbledore.
She remembered she had bid him goodnight, as she was wont to do and rather than ignore her like he usually did, he had called her name. The shock of it had actually frozen her on the spot, but only for a moment as she had spun to face him to be sure that she hadn't imagined it.
"Miss Granger." He had repeated, his hands flat upon the smooth surface of the table before him. His black eyes had risen from the potion bubbling away before him to sweep across her face. His eyes had seemed to her to be heavy upon her features, she could practically feel the way his gaze tracked across her features. Her heart had jumped into her throat, sure he was about to say something but he had instead bowed his head back over his potion and issued her a curt "Goodnight."
Oh, how she had been so buoyed by such a simple farewell. She had naively believed that she was finally creeping beneath that thick armour he so carefully wrapped himself in. She had all but skipped up to Gryffindor tower.
Only to lose Professor Dumbledore that same night to her potions professor's wand.
She had felt the deep sting of betrayal, and like the silly schoolgirl she had been, she had cried her heart out for Professor Dumbledore and her ridiculous longing to establish herself as the confidant of Severus Snape.
How breathtaking would it have been, she had fantasised, to be the only person in the world this powerful wizard confided in? She had imagined them debating over the latest potions journals, his deep and alluring voice softly arguing against her, but his eyes sparking with interest and shared knowledge.
She had thought herself a fool. She had wanted it so badly that she had overlooked what he had believed to be his final farewell to her. It had been so subtle that it was only after the battle was won and she believed him to be dead that she realised he had been saying goodbye, that night of their final brewing session.
Once he had been discovered, barely alive on the floor of the Shrieking Shack and all but left for dead by the golden trio. Their combined guilt, though mostly that of Harry Potter, had spurred them to ensure he got the very best care St Mungo's could offer.
He had been in a magically induced coma for 18 months, healing slowly whilst the world around him exploded with uproar. They had debated his loyalties, splashed his private life across the papers and all but pronounced him Voldemort's man.
Only Harry Potter's intervention had stopped the immediate call for a Dementor's kiss sentence. The public stood firmly with their young hero, the boy-who-lived and defeated Voldemort had pronounced very publicly that Severus Snape had been loyal to Dumbledore to the last.
The world believed the word of the young man who was now and forever their saviour and by the time Severus Snape had woken up and was fit for trial, it was just a formality. Very few people wanted to see him convicted by this point and it was with utmost disappointment that the wizarding world watched him withdraw from the public eye completely.
They had been so ready to welcome him as the dark hero to Harry Potter's light. The master spy and consummate Slytherin to Harry Potter's brave and brash Gryffindor.
She suspected that Harry too, had begun to believe that Snape would stand at his side, if not as an auror then as an ally and a friend.
Instead, he had disappeared with nary a word. He had swept from the courtroom so rapidly that the only photo the Prophet had managed to get, was of his sweeping robes as he span away in the marbled fireplace of the Ministry.
She had written once, and upon never receiving a reply had sworn she wouldn't succumb to the temptation again. Not a week later, she had written again. And again. He never responded, not to her or Harry or even Kingsley.
Harry had once made the mistake of asking Minerva McGonagall to reach out to Snape on his behalf, only to be sharply reprimanded to leave the man to the peace he had earned thrice over.
But, Hermione wouldn't give up. If she couldn't get the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures to see sense then she would focus on a new target. She would focus on getting Severus Snape out of his house and to Harry's wedding.
After all, she reasoned that if she could get the most stubborn wizard in existence to listen to her, Cuthbert Mockridge would be a piece of cake