Disclaimer: I do not own HP. :-)
"Are you joking?" Blaise Zabini exclaimed as he watched his friend's face continuously etch itself in anxiety and increased petulance. They were at a café called Le leve-tot (if translated will say "Early Riser") and the two were sipping brewed coffee made by the exquisite Madame Levina who was known back in her hometown of Nice, France as the "most splendid coffeemaker in the area." Witches and wizards from France (and from different parts of the world) would Apparate during unadulterated times in Nice just to get a cuppa in the original Le leve-tot branch.
Draco couldn't think straight due to the distractions around him. Children were screaming and crying while the blenders' sounds were quite irritating to hear. Yes, he was in a café. Damned meeting place forever. But all raucous noises aside, he was disturbed and enraged that Hermione Granger had already gone another step above him. That morning, after Draco had brought Scorpius to Hermione's house, he was quite suspicious with the way Hermione was grinning.
It seemed so unlike her to grin such an evillish grin. But then again, she was Hermione Granger. Anything was possible. Or at least, she can make anything possible.
"What's with your happiness today, Granger?" Draco asked idly as he twirled his wand in his right hand. "Finally getting your buck teeth removed?"
Hermione still kept the grin on her face despite his insult.
"More like a heavy weight had been removed," Hermione replied, her voice oddly full of calm. "And a heavier weight will be removed once you get off my premises."
Draco raised his eyebrow questioningly and checked his body for any inactive hexes Hermione might have planted on him. Scorpius was quite distracted with the swing, his cheers and squeals loud and gleeful.
"Goodbye, son," Draco waved at his swinging junior. "I'll pick you up at six pm. Give your mother a hard time for me, will you?"
This time, Hermione frowned.
"Get out, Malfoy."
Draco smirked and then snickered.
"That's the Granger I know."
And with that, he Disapparated.
How could he not suspect that? How could he not suspect that she would be that devious to file a case? Draco groaned in frustration and lowered his head, gingerly slamming his fist on the table. How was he so damn clueless?
"She is pretty intelligent," Blaise drummed his fingers thoughtfully. "May I see that letter again?"
Draco, with head still down, handed him the letter and Blaise fingered with the now torn sides of the maroon-hued envelope. The seal was cracked at the left side due to anxiety and the letter was crumpled and folded due to the continuous rereads done by his best friend.
"From the Desk of Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister of Magic…" Blaise began as he read the colorful letter header and he sneezed due to the golden dust that came out after. "Stupid pixie powder."
Draco's head shot up.
"Rufus Scrimgeour?" he asked. "Rufus Scrimgeour?"
"Yes, Rufus Scrimgeour," Blaise replied idly as he read through the letter for what seemed like the tenth time. "Why? Did I read the name wrong?"
"You've read it just fine." Draco moaned again.
First the case and now this case was under Rufus Scrimgeour? He should have updated himself with the officials in the Ministry.
"Now, may I continue, mate?" Blaise said as he sipped his brewed coffee. "I have to get going in a bit and I'd like to see you writh due to the words in this fine fine piece of work."
"You sadist," Draco snapped. "My best friend's a sadist?"
"I try so very hard." Blaise replied lazily.
Draco motioned for him to continue and lowered his head again.
Dear Mr. Draco Malfoy and Miss Hermione Granger,
It has come to my attention that you were a couple under Marriage Contract #7262733, Status: Inevitable, Timeframe: Six months or entitled the Malfoy Marriage Contract. And I believe that Horace Flaherty handled your divorce case with the following agreements listed below:
Mr. Draco Malfoy is the sole custodian to Scorpius Malfoy (son) and Miss Hermione Granger presides over school decisions of Scorpius Malfoy. Scorpius Malfoy is age six at the moment and will therefore have no say in the decision of his parents lest his father or mother agree with son's decision.
I have received a complaint from Miss Hermione Granger about the custody of Scorpius Malfoy. She had written a letter of appeal that falls under Category 2872, which pleads for joint custody. Since she has benefits as your former spouse, Mister Malfoy, I approved the case. You will both attend a hearing on the twenty-fifth of July and I, as Minister, will listen to your pleadings.
If you are late, Mr. Malfoy, I will assume that you have decided to go with Miss Granger's decision of joint custody…"
"All's fair in love and war, Rufus Scrimgeour." Hermione finished the letter with a flourish, her eyes sparkling and her grin victorious. Harry gasped and Ron applauded.
"That was beautiful, Hermione," Ron wiped a faux tear from his eye. "Simply beautiful, well-written… I can't believe I'm saying this but Rufus Scrimgeour deserves some kind of book award!"
"I'm curious, Hermione," Harry replied as he bit down on a Pumpkin Pasty and drank his pumpkin juice. The trio was in the Ministry café because Hermione wanted to get together and of course, share the reply Rufus Scrimgeour had written for Hermione's plea concerning joint custody. "How did you manage to get Scrimgeour on your side?"
Hermione propped her hands onto the round, wooden table and grinned. "I had a huge plan."
"Well, obviously," Ron rolled his eyes. "You're Hermione Granger!"
"Thanks for that well-known fact, Ron."
"Obnoxious, as always."
"Oh, Ronald, don't be such a priss!"
"I'm not being a priss! I'm just voicing out the fact that you're being so—"
"All right, you two," Harry interrupted calmly, not wanting to hear his best friends argue. "I want to hear Hermione's story. How did you do it?"
"Well, as you may know, I'm head of the Magical Maladies Department at the Ministry," Hermione began. "Of course, you two already know that being my closest mates."
Harry and Ron nodded.
"Scrimgeour never wanted me in that position because he's always voiced my political potential and abilities, especially during the time of dear old Muggle Doris Wallace and her case on banning wands in her household."
"Ah, yes, poor Jo Wallace," Harry shook his head in pity, remembering the multiple buckets of tears she shed in the courtroom when Doris had accused her of hexing their house cat and making her run amok during an important dinner party with Doris' employers. His heart stung at the memory of his own experience on living with a family of Wizard haters. Jo Wallace, like him, was Doris Wallace's niece and due to Jo's parents dying in a car crash, had to move to her aunt's residence and suffered eleven years of torture from Doris who hated magic of any sort, even the commercial rabbit-popping-out-of-the-hat bit. But luckily for her, she had contacted the Ministry of Magic through owl post and pleaded her case immediately. "But serves Doris right for treating her that way."
"Mm-hmm." Hermione nodded as she bit on the chocolate-chip frog that was placed near her pumpkin juice drink.
"So whatever happened to Doris, Harry?" Ron asked, curious.
"Well," Hermione interrupted as Harry opened his mouth to speak. "She was sent to one of our many Squib academies to practice the fine art of magic. Or at least the beginner's kind."
"Much like Filch." Harry chimed in quickly, in fear that Hermione would interrupt him again.
"And then what happened?"
"Doris really wanted Jo to go through this new technology we have called the Magi-Usurper."
"A Magi-what?" Ron asked, clearly befuddled by the unfamiliar term… and machinery.
"It is a piece of work in the form of a Dementor—"
"WHAT?" Ron bellowed.
"Don't worry, Ron," Hermione waved him off. "It's really only used for criminals."
"But why did Doris want Jo to suffer through the Magi… whatever?" Harry probed.
"A Magi-Usurper, Harry," Hermione corrected. "The purpose of this machinery is to remove the victim or prisoner's innate magic so as not to perform any kind of escapist spells to get out of prison. Much similar to what happened in our fourth year."
"What about their wands?"
"We take them away, remember?"
"Oh, right," Harry replied sheepishly, briefly forgetting he was an Auror at the Ministry. "Sorry. Go on."
"And Doris did have the right to plead for the Magi-Usurper on Jo," Hermione continued, sighing sadly as she recalled the memory. "Because according to Chapter 1028, Paragraph 372, Sub-heading 2821, Line number 282 of the Ministry rule book, the pleader can turn in the one at fault for the Magi-Usurper if and only if the rules in the Ministry are broken. And since Jo was a minor when the hex happened, Doris had the right to apply for that punishment."
"Wow, and then what happened?"
"Well, long story short," Hermione replied. "I battled long and hard for Jo not to suffer through the punishment and in the end, I won the case after five months of research and loopholing."
"Amazing you are!" Harry and Ron trilled in unison.
"Scrimgeour was very impressed with my work," Hermione said, Scourgifying her hands clean of the chocolate icing from the frog treat. "And at that time I was married to Malfoy. He never really favored the family."
"No one favored their family."
"Right," Hermione acknowledged by nodding. "And Scrimgeour was on my case for months. He bordered on batty trying to get me to transfer to the position as head of the Magical Enforcement Department. He knew how I suffered terribly in that marriage so he struck me a deal: He will help me with the joint custody case if I agree to take that Head position."
"So that means you're the new Head."
Hermione nodded, smiling. "I start tomorrow."
"Is this why you called us?"
Hermione grinned a sheepish grin this time.
"Well, admittedly, yes," Hermione nodded. "That and the fact that I haven't had a decent teatime with my best friends."
"Well, I do hope you have a great sleep tonight."
Hermione sighed.
"Yes, it's going to be—"
"—a very long day tomorrow, mate," Blaise said as he slapped the goblet away from Draco's hand. It was happy hour in the pub they had moved in after they both got terribly annoyed with the noise in the café. "Stop inebriating yourself and let's go home. You're not going to be fit for the case tomorrow."
"Do I want to be fit?" Draco replied, a bit tipsy from the seven other firewhiskeys he drank.
"Like it or not, the event is inevitable," Blaise quipped as he called the barman for the billing. "But would you want Granger to win due to new facts about you being an irresponsible drunkard of a father who drinks his problems away? I think Scorpius agrees with me."
Draco gulped and sighed.
"Will I see you tomorrow?"
"Of course," Blaise laughed. "I'd want to see the battle of the brains. And whether or not you get shot down by a woman."
Draco and Blaise got off the high stools and exited the pub.
"Have I ever told you that you were a sadist?"
"I try my best." Blaise replied before he Disapparated.