AN: Oh you wonderful people, thank you to everyone who has given this story so much love! Thank you to everyone who followed/favorited, and special thanks as always to everyone who reviewed: anjiepotter05, LightofEvolution, kayomay, Jd-dox (twice, wow!), SophusMao, Cecily Mitchell, Stormyshade, and I was BOTWP! I can't believe there's almost 50 reviews for this story! *virtual hugs for all*

For those of you wondering, there will be less overlap on the viewpoints from now on, and the plot is going to start moving a little faster. For now, here's Hermione...

Changing Scenery

Chapter 13: Letters

Hermione hadn't been sure what to expect from her visit to Malfoy Manor. When she'd gotten Malfoy's invitation on Friday she'd been furious. Furious that Malfoy had the gall to invite her to Malfoy Manor after everything that had happened during the war. Furious that a single letter had the power to upset the calm she'd managed to achieve in her life. But overlaid with all that was the memory of him dancing in the club, of snogging him in the club. Why did that have to feel so good?

She'd been tempted to firecall Harry, but things still weren't the same between them. They hadn't even had lunch together on Tuesday like they usually did, even though they'd had plans to. When Malfoy's letter had arrived later that afternoon, she'd sent him a terse reply and then owled Luna to arrange to meet on Saturday to have tea and talk.

Hermione certainly hadn't expected Luna to defend Malfoy. Luna had told her that she ought to give Malfoy a chance – that perhaps it really had been a mistake, an oversight, just as he'd said in his letter. Hermione hadn't wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but Luna had a way of persuading her and eventually she'd managed to talk herself into thinking it wouldn't be so bad.

And it wasn't as bad as she'd thought it would be, but it wasn't a picnic either.

After all that, sitting across from Malfoy, drinking tea in a small, brightly lit room, felt nearly surreal. She could feel the weight of the war pressing on her shoulders, but it was lighter than she'd thought it would be after visiting that room. It helped that she found Malfoy far more distracting than she'd expected. After his visit to her office on Monday, she'd thought about him far more often than she would readily admit even to Ginny or Luna. Especially to Ginny.

He's certainly handsome.

When Malfoy briefly spread out his wing, the light from the large window glinted off the silver feathers and made them look ethereal. She couldn't help but stare at them.

They were certainly eye-catching, and she wasn't surprised when he said that he usually didn't have them out in public.

"Can you fly?" she asked, her intellectual curiosity overriding the wonder which had momentarily left her speechless.

He lifted his wings slightly and the gentle wind they created was enough to stir his hair and raise goosebumps on her arms. "Yes," he replied, a smile taking over his face.

It's really not fair that he's this attractive, and charming as well. Hermione supposed some of it was from being a Veela, but she didn't feel glamored. And at least it succeeded in distracting her almost completely from the morbid thoughts that had occupied her mind from the moment she'd received his letter.

"Really?" she asked. "So do you have all the Veela abilities? Or just some? Are there any notable differences between male and female Veela? There isn't nearly as much written on male Veela, and they're quite rare of course, and none of the information is first-hand, like there is for female Veela…" She cut herself off, aware that she was asking rather personal questions. She took a sip of tea to hide her embarrassment. "You don't have to tell me, of course, if you don't want to."

He didn't seem to mind though, if his small smile was anything to judge by. "I have some books you might be interested in, if you'd like to visit the library?"

If? She nearly dropped her teacup. She'd heard rumors about the Malfoy library. It was famous. And even though she knew that the Ministry had confiscated some of the Dark texts after the war, she had no doubt that it was still one of the finest libraries in wizarding Britain. She cleared her throat when she realized several moments had passed and she hadn't answered.

"Yes, I'd love to." Hermione set her teacup carefully down in its saucer on the table, and then tried to brush off the drops that had spilled out of it and onto her jeans as subtly as possible.

Malfoy stood up and then held out his arm to her. He'd been doing that all day, and it was discomfiting in a ways she wasn't quite sure she wanted to address. He was treating her like someone he respected, and damned if that didn't do something funny to her insides. She stood up and then tucked her arm into his. She felt as though he should be leading her into a ball instead of to his library, but it was probably just a pureblood custom she wasn't aware of.

He led her upstairs, then down another large hall – is everything in the Manor outsized? – and finally into a room that was better than anything she could have dreamed up. It was difficult to tell the exact shape because of the bookshelves which covered all of the walls. Two massive staircases curved gently upward to another level, and spiral staircases led from there to a third story. Free-standing bookshelves formed aisles on the first two levels, while the third story was more of a balcony. Wrought iron railings lined the upper two levels. In the open area between the door and the bookshelves some groupings of tables and chairs were scattered, and a single large fireplace took up part of the wall to the left. A light haze of magic seemed to permeate the room, seeping from the leather-bound tomes that filled every available space.

"Merlin," she breathed, overwhelmed.

She wandered forwards a few steps almost unconsciously and looked around. Part of her wanted to wander down those aisles and run her fingertips along the spines, but the vague thought that this wasn't actually her library stopped her. Remembering that, she turned back to face Malfoy, who was leaning against the doorframe, smirking.

"This is incredible," she told him.

His smirk grew. "It should be. Armand Malfoy, the first English Malfoy, started the library with the books he brought over Normandy. Every Malfoy since has added to the collection."

"Have you?"

Malfoy smirked and nodded. "Of course." He pushed himself off the doorframe with his shoulders and then started walking toward the aisles of shelves. He glanced back and raised an eyebrow.

Hermione realized she'd been staring at his arse, so she shook her head and hurried to follow him. I am absolutely not thinking about shagging Malfoy.

Malfoy walked almost to the back of the room before stopping in front of a bookshelf full of books that didn't have the same feel of seeping magic as the other shelves, and the books were brighter and newer. Not only that, but when Hermione stepped up next to him, she realized that they weren't the leather-bound tomes that dominated wizarding libraries and bookshops, but hardback muggle books. She didn't see any paperbacks, but she wasn't surprised. Malfoys would have only the best.

Glancing through the titles immediately on display, she saw a much wider variety of writers than she would have anticipated. She spent several minutes looking through the shelves more thoroughly, eventually turning to look at him.

Malfoy was staring at her with something she would have called nerves on anyone else. She was sure he would have been biting his lip if it hadn't been far too undignified.

"You bought these?" she asked.

He nodded. "I realized, after the war, that I needed to expand my point of view. So many things that I'd believed my entire life were because I'd never bothered to learn anything different. I accepted what I'd been told without reservation. I needed to learn how to question things." He waved a hand at the bookshelf. "This was my way of doing that."

"You've read all of these?"

"I have."

He really is trying to change. "Did you like them?"

"Not all of them." He shrugged one shoulder. "But I doubt anyone can be expected to love every book they read, perhaps with present company excepted."

Hermione smiled ruefully. "I don't love every book. But I do like most of them," she admitted.

"Nothing wrong with that." He smiled at her, and damned if it didn't make butterflies start fluttering around in her stomach again.

Now I'm thinking in clichés?

"But I was going to show the books on Veela. This way." He gestured gracefully with one arm while holding the other out to her.

Hermione looked at it askance. "You know you don't need to escort me everywhere, don't you?" If part of the reason she didn't want to take his arm is because sparks tingled in her hand and spread to the rest of her body every time she touched him, she certainly wasn't going to mention it.

Malfoy smirked. "But I want to."

She had nothing at all to say to that, so she just took his arm mutely.

Malfoy very nearly grinned before gently leading her up the stairs to the second level and then around to a bookshelf dominated by books covered in pale leather covers, mostly shades of white and blue.

She removed her arm as delicately as she could once they'd come to a stop.

"Here we are," Malfoy said. "It's not a complete collection, but it's quite extensive."

Hermione began looking through the titles, but she was distracted by a large, very familiar looking, red tome. She pulled it off the shelf and Veela Law glittered up at her in large gold letters. She flipped open the front cover, but there was no bookplate with the Ministry seal. She turned to Malfoy. "You own this! Why did you bother coming to see me in my office?" she asked indignantly.

He shrugged. "I wasn't sure what sort of books the Ministry had. I thought perhaps they might have a book that I didn't."

"But you said that you didn't know that much about Veela law!"

Malfoy smirked. "Well I didn't two months ago."

"You visited me a week ago, not two months ago!"

"An oversight, I'm sure."

He is infuriating! "You are infuriating! Why on earth would you lie about something like that?"

"I wasn't lying," he said mildly. "Merely being slightly anachronistic. And I really do have a more vested interest now than two months ago."

"I'm sure," Hermione said acidly. I should have known he hadn't changed that much. He still likes toying with people's minds. She replaced the book on the shelf gently, controlling her anger. She didn't want to damage the book, but Malfoy's face was another matter. Still, Hermione liked to think she had better control over her anger now. "If you'll excuse me, I have to be going."

She strode past Malfoy, only just keeping her shoulder from bumping his. Bloody sparks. She walked quickly down the stairs, and she was halfway across the floor to the door before Malfoy responded.

"Wait! Granger, wait!"

Like hell.

Hermione ignored him, choosing instead to continue channeling her anger into a very rapid walk to the front door. She hadn't felt any Anti-Apparition wards, so when she stepped outside, she turned on her heel and Apparated away.

On Monday morning, as she sat in her office, she could admit to herself that she hadn't behaved very well the day before, and her response might have been slightly overdramatic. Still, the annoyance over his apparent disregard for truth and honesty lingered.

She applied herself to her work vigorously to distract herself. It worked quite well, considering she hadn't managed to get much done that weekend and quite a bit had accumulated in that time. Felicity popped in several times, and Hermione was reminded of her decision to resign. After everyone had left for the day, Hermione lingered.

Malfoy's case, and Malfoy himself, had distracted her for far longer than she'd anticipated. She'd told Harry of her plan to resign nearly a month ago and nearly forgotten about it since then. With that in mind, she pulled out the draft of her resignation letter and read it over.

Hermione still wasn't sure what she would do if she resigned. She did like working at the Department for Magic Creatures, but the endless paperwork her job as Department Head entailed wasn't exactly mentally stimulating. Her boredom had been alleviated for a while, but it was starting to return.

She glanced back at the letter. She hadn't signed it, and the end wasn't quite finished.

Making up her mind, Hermione added a small clause at the end and then signed it with a flourish. She felt better with the letter signed.

For the first time in several months, Hermione went home with a smile on her face.

Tuesday morning, Hermione went up to the Minister's office first thing, clutching her old leather briefcase. The secretary looked surprised to see her.

"Miss Granger!"

"Hello. Is the Minister available? I'd like to speak with him."

The secretary, whose name Hermione could never remember, glanced down at a thick notebook and then back up. "He's free for the next thirty minutes, you can go on in."

Hermione smiled slightly. "Thank you." She walked in, and wasn't surprised to see that Kingsley didn't look surprised to see her.

"Hermione, please come in." He waved a hand which indicated both the leather chairs in front of his desk and closed the door behind her.

Hermione walked in and then stood in front of his desk.

"Hello, Kingsley."

She saw when he noted that she remained standing. "What's this about?"

Hermione Summoned her resignation from her briefcase and then handed it to him. "I am submitting my official letter of resignation as Head of the Department for Magical Creatures."

Kingsley looked at her in shock. "You're resigning."

She nodded firmly. "Yes. You'll notice that I've included a clause saying that I will stay on to finish my open cases before leaving. I've decided on Felicity McAllan as my replacement – she's very capable."

"Of course I trust your judgement, Hermione. I just hadn't realized you were even thinking about resigning. What brought this on?"

Hermione took a breath. She'd prepared for this question. "I've decided that the position no longer suits me. I believe that Miss McAllan will be able to lead the department very efficiently for many years to come."

Kingsley frowned. "You needn't give me the political answer. I think we've been through enough to work past that."

Hermione smiled slightly. "Yes, of course." She shrugged. "I just don't find the work satisfying anymore. I need something a little more…challenging, I suppose."

Kingsley sighed deeply. "I can wish you'd reconsider, but I doubt that I'll convince you. In that case, I accept your resignation in the terms you've laid out."

"Thank you, Kingsley."

"You're welcome. Good luck, Hermione."

Hermione nodded and then left the office, glad that she'd finally taken the last step toward a new stage in her life, even if it wasn't starting right away.

When Hermione returned to her office, she called Felicity in.

"Felicity, come in, sit down."

Felicity did, looking at her expectantly.

"What did you want to see me about?"

"Do you remember that conversation we had a while ago?"

"You mean about the Penthurst case?" Felicity looked confused.

Hermione shook her head. "No, about me resigning and you being my replacement."

Felicity immediately perked up. "Yes, of course!"

"I handed in my official resignation today. I'll close out my open cases, and then you'll take over as Department Head," Hermione said without fanfare.

Felicity blinked. "Wow. Well, I hadn't realized it would be so soon, or so sudden, but thank you. I won't let you down."

Hermione smiled. "I know you won't."

The next day at quarter to twelve, Hermione found herself dithering in the corridor in front of Harry's office. She'd lifted her hand to knock three times without actually touching the wood. Fortunately, the Aurors in the nearest cubicles had apparently gone out to lunch and so no one was around to witness her indecision.

On the fourth attempt, after a deep breath, or three, she finally rapped on the door. A long moment passed where she worried that Harry might already have gone to lunch before a muffled voice said, "Come in."

Hermione opened the door and then poked her head in nervously. Harry glanced up briefly from the paperwork spread across his desk, and then his head jerked up again.

"Hermione! I wasn't expecting you!"

Hermione bit her lip. Maybe this wasn't a good idea. "I know, can I come in?"

"Of course!" Harry stood up quickly, nearly knocking over an inkwell precariously close to the edge of his desk.

She closed the door carefully behind her before perching on the edge of one of the seats.

"Er, hi." Hi? Oh bloody hell, I've turned into a thirteen-year-old. "How are you?"

Harry rubbed a hand through his hair. "I'm, uh, I'm good. How are you?"

"Uh, good." Is this even a conversation? "I wanted to, um, to ask you…"

"Yes?" Harry said quickly.

Why am I so nervous? "That is, do you want to go, um, get lunch?"

Harry stared at her and she began to wonder if this hadn't been a terrible idea.

"Unless you've already eaten? That would be fine, of course. I can go get lunch myself." Hermione realized she was babbling and cut herself off, standing up.

"No! I mean, yes! I mean, I'm hungry!" Harry ran another hand through his hair, mumbling something she couldn't quite hear. "What I meant to say, was no, I haven't eaten, and yes, I'd like to get lunch with you."

"Oh, well, great." This is bloody awkward. "The usual place, then?"

"Yeah, sounds, uh, sounds good." He looked around and then grabbed his outer robe from where it had been flung over the back of his chair. He slipped it on and then looked at her. "Lead the way."

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