Chapter 28

Hermione's new job with the Association was exciting, challenging, but definitely not boring. They had set her up in a tiny apartment in New York, which was good because her salary wasn't much to brag about. But she got by.

The Association, which managed all magical affairs in the USA and Canada, didn't have the resources or the regulatory structures that the Ministry did. It was an association and people joined it through membership, which meant that if anyone disagreed with its mandate or what it was doing, they would refuse to be part of it.

Hermione was amazed by the diversity. The wizarding communities were regional and fairly geographically spread out, so there wasn't the cohesion that existed in the UK. There wasn't one magical world on the continent, there were several and many of them didn't have anything to do with other communities. There was the Native American groups, which had a fairly heavy magical genetic heritage, which would listen to the Association, but do whatever they wanted.

The voodoo crowd in the deep south was suspicious of everything the Association did and wouldn't even show up at any scheduled meetings.

However, the vast bulk of the populace were immigrants who had fled the more restrictive regimes in Europe, including the Ministry. Overall, they liked being less regulated.

The Association managed transportation and enforcement. There was a policy team, where Hermione worked, but where possible the members would generally vote to not have one if they could get away with it. The Association depended on an old set of witchcraft laws that had been established a long time ago to forbid witchcraft. They had been adjusted and amended over the years to manage a magical community, but they were still part of the muggle legal system. Hence part of the laws of the land, which no one could challenge.

Hermione felt like she hadn't had a second's rest since she got there, not that she minded. Her work was challenging and it wasn't hard to see how someone less keen on putting in some real elbow grease would hate working for the Association. Her boss, Rachel's father was smart and reasonable; a keen student of philosophy and debating, which made it really hard to win an argument with him. It served him really well when dealing with the less accommodating members of the community.

New York was amazing, the speed of everything, including the Association. There was no taking two years to deliberate a clause amendment to a bylaw, decisions were required immediately.

Hermione thrived professionally and personally. Each new season would bring on a range of new things to do, and the country was so broad, there was always something new to explore.

She had even gone on a few dates, but nothing serious. In terms of the romantic department, she was still in a bit of a mess. She ached for him in the beginning, so badly she didn't know what to do with herself. But it was retreating somewhat. Now, she still ached for him at the end of the rough day, she wished she could just cuddle up to him for comfort. Not that cuddling or comfort had ever been part of his repertoire.

She even missed some of his acerbic opinions and thoughts. There wasn't enough acerbicism in the American culture. Not one of the things she'd expected to miss, but she did.

But this was for her good, she reminded herself and she didn't have any problems believing it. If only he'd been different, things could have been different. But on the other hand, maybe it was some of his complete impossibility that she loved. It took a lot of time exploring her own head to lead to that train of thought. Maybe she was drawn to him because she couldn't have him. Maybe that's what drew her in the beginning.

A bit of maturity would take care of such destructive fascinations.

It had almost been a year since she'd left the UK. She was finally starting to feel at home in the US. At first, she felt like an overwhelmed tourist, but over time she settled down. And she really liked her life.

"I hope you won't hate me, but I have volunteered your help to Steve." Rachel's father, Mitch said one day.

"Oh." Hermione said. In truth she wasn't all that thrilled about being volunteered without her knowledge.

"He is struggling at the moment." Mitch continued. "There is an immigration influx and he is swamped."

"Influx?" Hermione asked.

"It happens occasionally when thing change in Europe. People seek to come here. We help them with immigration. Filling in the forms, setting up interviews. They don't need us, but some of the Europeans don't seem to be able to tie their shoelaces without some authority telling them how to. Anyway, I promised Steve that you might help. I hope you don't mind. Many from the UK, so it might be comforting to deal with someone familiar. Some of them are a bit distressed."

"What do you mean distressed?" Hermione said.

"Since this country started, people come here to escape persecution."

"Persecution?" Hermione said. "What persecution?" Although she had a feeling she didn't want to know. In truth, she had slipped away from the UK pretty much without incident. Ron and Ginny were sorry to see her go, but they got over it pretty quick. After some exchanged owls, communications dripped to a stop. Cross Atlantic mail serve was quite expensive and once the telling of her new situation, there wasn't that much to say.

There might have been the little thing about them finding out that she had been seeing Lucius Malfoy too. It did seem to represent a bit of a wedge in their relationship. Hermione had tried to explain herself and the reasons for leaving the UK. Ginny made some half hearted effort to say she understood, but the undercurrent was that she clearly didn't. Hermione couldn't blame them, she couldn't justify her behaviour to herself let alone anyone else.

She didn't know how they found out, she didn't care. Secrets came out that is just the way it was and just desserts for having secrets.

Anyway, Hermione trailed along to Steve's department and was briefed on how to help immigrants get through the US Department of Immigration, although there was a strong preference for the Canadian equivalent as they were easier to deal with. The US version seemed to feel that if you made the process hard, you would discourage people from trying. But little did the US Department of Immigration know that they were dealing with people who were used to dealing with European Ministries of Magic. In terms of bureaucracy, they were novices compared to the hardened masters.

Hermione met her first family, the Hartleners from Wales. There were huddled together on one sofa wearing full wizarding robes. Hermione hadn't seen full wizarding robes in a while. Attire at the Ministry was more The Gap, then wizarding fashion.

The family, as was a typical couldn't understand why they had to fill out muggle forms. Hermione also had to take them to a muggle hospital for a medical check with a friendly doctor who was married to a witch.

Hermione could see the family's discomfort as they were obviously not used to having to deal with muggle transportation. The floo network was not well developed in North America. It existed in some of the older buildings, but it was intermittent and pretty unreliable. It was an eye opener to discover the effort needed to keep the floo network operational. The Association coffers didn't allow for any extensions, so floo connections were previous like hens teeth.

Apparently, things were getting bad back in the UK for the Hartleners. He was a half blood and she was a second generation muggleborn who was uneducated. Apparently being uneducated was a bit of a problem.

Hermione hadn't known it was a problem, but could perhaps see how some of the Ministry cronies could think so. She could well imagine Umbridge thinking so.

"Well it's not a problem here." She reassured them.

"We didn't want to come," Mrs. Hartlener said, "but they were going to take Gruverer wand."

"That's awful." Hermione said with concern.

"Its all that Malfoy character's fault." Mr. Hartlener said.

Hermione felt goosebumps spread all over her body and her heartbeat sped up.

"Lucius Malfoy?" Hermione asked.

"Ever since he became Protector In Situ, things have gone from bad to worse." He said.

"Not quite." The woman said. "Not as bad as it was a few years ago, but it seemed to be happening again."

"What is happening again?" Hermione said, she was almost shaking.

"The persecution." She said. "They put me on trial before, tried to take my wand, but I didn't have one, so they put me in Azkaban until Gruverer managed to convince them that his mother's wand was mine."

"That's awful." Hermione said. "That was before, what do you mean its happening again?"

"The restrictions." He said. "The Ministry is exercising its control over absolutely everything. We tried to enrol Migens in Hogwarts and had to prove her wizard heritage back three generations. Their new policy is that there must be a pureblood at least three generations back, otherwise they can't enrol. Luckily for use, I do, but it still sits bad. They restrict everything, what job you can have, who can marry. It was time to go. I was going to lose my job, so we decided it was time. I have an uncle that came here in the sixties, and he seemed to like it."

Mrs. Hartlener didn't look convinced as Hermione looked from one to the other. Hermione hadn't heard anything about such changes back in the UK. And apparently, it seemed Lucius had something to do with it. He had tried to get muggleborns out of Hogwarts before, she had bargained with him to get him to back down. It seemed he had gone ahead and done it. She didn't think he would, seriously would go ahead, but now it seemed he had.

Hermione had to excuse herself so she could go sit down. She had been so preoccupied with her new life, she hadn't even considered what was going on back home. What have you done, Lucius?

She ended up questioning Steve who confirmed that from what he heard things were indeed changing back in the UK and there had been an increasing flood of refugees seeking a new life in the US or Canada, muggleborns and half bloods mostly. It seemed to happen every twenty years or so in his estimation.

It seemed the situation was, according to Steve, that Lucius has installed himself in a new position called Protector In Situ, which the mandate to protect society from unwanted challenges. There was still a Minister of Magic, but this Protector position seemed to make whatever changes it saw fit. It was nowhere as bad as it was before when that mad man was trying to take over, much more political in nature.

This news was destroying the peace she had felt here and she was angry. Even here, their pureblood crap was encroaching on her life. She had been living with it since she was eleven and now that she was finally away from it, it still affected her.

It wasn't her fault, she raged, she was an incomer, it wasn't her society. They decided their rules and they kept on letting this happened. Well, they could just stew in their own incompetence. She done enough saving them, Harry had given his life to save them and they just slipped back into the shit.

Hermione was determined to not care. Although it prayed on her mind that Lucius seemed to be the instigator for these changes. Someone she'd had a relationship with was the person responsible. Then one night when she was lying in bed in her small apartment, a really disturbing thought occurred to her. Maybe it had been him all along, maybe it had been his policies and intentions under Voldmort. Voldemort was the violence and Lucius was the intent. She dismissed the thought, but it niggled in the back of her brain.

Hermione had to deal with two families a week from the UK, hearing stories about how all non purebloods had been removed from all positions of office in the Ministry. Muggleborns had pretty much been expelled in all capacities.

Hermione fumed at Lucius' hypocrisy. There was this underlying hope that he wasn't responsible, but she knew it in her heart that he was. There had been a few times she questioned his mental stability and she couldn't help but question it now.

He hadn't been like this with her, he had been much more accepting and accommodating. He had let muggleborns stay at Hogwarts and even that weird night when he was telling her about the wizard society's long standing obsession with the muggle world, it its twisted iterations. But she couldn't deny that he had wanted to push muggleborns out. She had thought it was an excuse to bargain with her. Maybe he was punishing her, she thought, but dismissed it as seriously overestimating her importance in the world.

Hermione managed to get on with it, after Harry's death, she was a lot less sympathetic to the wizarding world's tribulations.

Then came a letter from Molly. A desperate letter written in a hurry.

Dear Hermione,

Please help me, Hermione. They have taken my Arthur. I know he listens to you, please make him give me back my Arthur. I wouldn't ask if I had any other recourse. Arthur will never survive Azkaban, he is such a gentle soul. Please help. I don't know what to do.

Love Always,

Molly

The letter was like a punch to the gut. She knew that Lucius intensely disliked Arthur Weasley, he always had, but she never really understood why. There was always something about blood traitors, but she had never seen Lucius treat anyone else with as much vitriol as he did Arthur Weasley.

This wasn't fair, Hermione cried as she scrunched the letter in her hand. Why did she always have to sort out their issues? She hadn't been at the final battle, but if she had, she'd probably be just as dead as Harry was. Harry didn't deserve to die for them.

But Hermione would never be able to deny Molly help. If it had been anyone else, she might be tempted to ignore it, but she could never stand by and let Molly suffer. Molly and Arthur were her adopted wizard family after all. She had no idea what this would entail, but she would never be able to say no.

She didn't have any illusions as she booked a portkey back to the UK that this would be a simple easy thing, or that would even end well, but what could she do? Whatever influence she had with Lucius Malfoy, she would have to yield.

Hermione arrived to a cold drizzling London. Diagon Alley wasn't deserted to Hermione's eternal relief but there was a grimness on some people's expressions. She tucked her jacket tight around her as she walked to the apparition point.