As a reminder: This story is available in explicit form on AO3 where my username is MissELY. You can also follow me on tumblr where my username is MissElyLux. Tumblr message is the best way to get ahold of me
August 16, 2008
The next morning Hermione's first call was to the hospital. The charge nurse told her that her mother would be ready for visitors that afternoon, and Hermione mentally scheduled time to go there on her lunch break.
She briefly thought about telling Harry, asking him to go with her; she quickly disregarded the idea. This thing with Harry, though overwhelming and intense, was new. She didn't want to put this on him; not after he had already had to deal with her the day before.
It was very strange not having to constantly worry about what her mother was doing, and she did her best to shake that feeling of responsibility. Joyce was being cared for by qualified professionals, there was nothing else she could do right now.
By the time she walked through the atrium of the Ministry, she had mostly shaken the lingering guilt, and her mind was instead on the pyramid.
The team still had some research to do about its origins and the runes on it, but the day would soon come where she would have to bring the pyramid and the box together.
Hermione blamed this deep level of contemplation and analysis on her distraction as she weaved her way through the crowd.
She didn't see the hand dart out and grab her right wrist.
She jumped at the contact and turned to see Sir Avery, looking at her with something other than kindness in his eyes.
Sir Avery was not in the puce robes he had worn in the Wizengamot the other day, rather this time his robes were an eye-smarting shade of orange. With his height, it made the man look like a very narrow traffic cone.
Despite his relatively comedic appearance, he still radiated a restrained menace.
"Miss Granger, a word?" His voice was smooth, but his hand was unyielding on her wrist. He guided her out of the flow of traffic in the atrium and into a corner, out of sight of most of the people milling about.
His sudden presence took Hermione so much by surprise that she didn't even think to object to the manhandling.
Well, at least not for a second, then she got her wits about her.
"Sir Avery, what is the meaning of this?" Her voice was crisp and professional.
"Miss Granger, I just wanted to welcome you to the Ministry," said Avery, looming over her.
Hermione fought the urge to take a step back, she didn't want to cede any ground, but the smell of his cologne, obviously expensive, was overwhelming and she resented having to crane her neck to look up at him.
"Thank you Sir Avery, now if you'll excuse me, I have to get to work." Hermione tried to pull away, but he still had her wrist firm in his grasp.
"Just a moment of your time Miss Granger. I was told that you are working on a special project with His Grace, the Duke of Llŷr. I would love to spend some time discussing the project with you."
"Sir Avery, that won't be possible. I'm not permitted to speak of my work. Now, if you would please release me, I must be going," Hermione said in her best impression of Professor McGonagall's 'disappointed in you,' tone.
Instead of releasing her wrist, Avery's hand tightened to the point of pain. She felt her delicate bones grind against each other and she barely resisted a flinch.
"Miss Granger," his voice oozed out over her, and she heard the threat behind it, "Whatever Potter told you, he was lying. He's not loyal to Great Britain, he's not loyal to the Ministry, he hasn't ever lived here. Do not place your trust in that unscrupulous opportunist."
She refrained from rolling her eyes, but just barely. "Sir Avery, like I said, I'm unable to divulge any information about my work. Furthermore, HisGrace has done nothing but work in the best interest of the Ministry and of Wizarding Britain. Now I really must get going."
"Girl, I am a member of the Wizarding nobility. I sit on the Wizengamot. I will not be denied," he hissed through gritted teeth.
Hermione's eyes narrowed, and her mouth pressed into a thin line. She was insulted, that this—this man thought she would divulge sensitive information simply because he asked and he was a member of the aristocracy?
"Sir Avery," she said icily, "I told you, I can't speak about about my work, now, if you'll excuse—"
His grasp tightened further. She was sure she would bruise from the press of his fingertips. How much of a scene was she willing to make? If she screamed would people come? Would it make him stop?
She opened her mouth, willing to test her theory when she heard the rhythmic tap of a cane on marble.
"Miss Granger," a cool voice over her shoulder was loud enough to be heard, but not loud enough to draw attention to them.
Avery's hand loosened with surprise and Hermione wrenched her arm out of his grasp and took two big steps back.
Straight into Lord Malfoy and Draco Malfoy.
Her back bumped into Draco Malfoy's front and he winced as she stepped on his foot in her haste to retreat from Avery.
"Sir Avery," Lord Malfoy drawled, his eyes flicking disdainfully over Avery's garish outfit before settling on his face, "I hope you're doing well this morning."
Avery's lips curled in something that could be called a smile, but that looked much more unpleasant.
"Lord Malfoy. I am well."
Lord Malfoy stood, legs apart with his cane in front of him. He rubbed over the serpent's head on his cane with two hands, somehow looking menacing but also [the image of the cool aristocrat.
"Miss Granger," Draco said, "can I accompany you to the workroom?"
"Yes, thank you," Hermione said, not looking at Avery.
"Sir Avery, it might behoove you to remember that Miss Granger works under the aegis of the Ministry. The Minister of Magic hired her himself. She reports to the only remaining Duke of the Realm, the head of the Department of Mysteries, and the Head Mugwump."
It sounded like idle chat, but Hermione could hear the warning behind it. And from the pallor that had overtake Avery's face, so had he.
Her back was ramrod straight as she turned away from Avery, both Malfoys at her back.
They walked in silence to the lifts and Hermione did her best not to look nervous. Draco Malfoy was a known entity but his father was entirely unfamiliar to her. She had seen him in passing once in Diagon Alley many years before, but she had never had any interaction with him at all.
She knew the rumors though. Death Eater who feigned the imperius curse to avoid Azkaban. He had worked for the betterment of purebloods at the expense of muggleborns for most of his early political career. And he had certainly raised Draco to have at least some level of blood prejudice too.
But after her conversation about the Malfoys with Harry last night, everything she thought she knew about them was up in the air.
How could Sirius—warm, kind, and welcoming Sirius—be friends with this man carved from a glacier?
And he had just got her away from Avery, so that had to speak to something in his character as well.
The ding that indicated an arriving lift jolted Hermione out of her contemplations. The cart was empty and Hermione stepped inside, followed by both Malfoy men.
"Miss Granger," it was Lord Malfoy who broke the silence, "I'm happy to make you acquaintance, but am aggrieved it is under such poor circumstance."
His face was expressionless and no matter how she squinted; she couldn't tell what he was thinking behind his mask of pleasant indifference.
Hermione offered him a gracious nod. "Lord Malfoy, thank you for your impeccable timing. The pleasure is all mine,"
The corner of his mouth quirked up.
"You've been an excellent boss to my son, and my wife sings your praises, please call me Lucius."
Hermione's eyebrows shot to her hairline, unable to mask her shock, but she ducked her head in acknowledgement. "Then please call me Hermione."
"What did Avery want?" asked Draco turning to more fully face her.
"He wanted information on the project," she cast a wary glance at Lucius that Draco caught.
"Don't worry about Father, he's been briefed by Dumbledore."
Hermione nodded. "Well, Sir Avery warned me not to trust Harry and wanted to know what I was tasked with. I told him I was unable to disclose that information, but he was still being rather insistent about it when you arrived."
"He's a degenerate," bit out Lord Malfoy.
"What father means to say is that you shouldn't be alone with him." Draco said.
Hermione huffed in annoyance. "I was only trying to make my way across the atrium when he grabbed me. I assure you, I have no intention of spending any time with him."
Silence reigned for a moment as the lift arrived at their floor. All three of them exited and were making their way to the workroom when Hermione realized how odd this situation was.
"Lucius," she asked, thinking about how strange it was strange that he seemed to be accompanying his son to work, "may I ask what you are doing here today?"
"I have several meetings in the Ministry today. But more than that, I have come at the behest of my wife with a strengthening solution for you to take and with a scroll from the Malfoy ancestral collection. It is entailed, and therefore no one but the current Marquis of Caradoc can touch it. But I believe it might be helpful in your research."
Hermione looked at the older man in surprise, but his attention was focused on the hall in front of them.
"Oh, well, thank you then," they reached the door and Hermione unlocked it.
Lucius nodded and held the door open for her.
"What makes you think the scroll may be helpful for our research?" Hermione asked, unable to contain her curiosity.
"Well, it was written by the first High King."
"Granger, you're going to get drool on the ancient text,"
"Shut up Malfoy," Hermione snapped, still pouring over the scroll that Lucius had brought.
She could not touch it, but Lucius had lain it out on a table, unrolling it so they would be able to read it in its entirety.
It was written in Old English and required a translation spell, but it was fascinating.
"Do you see this point here?" Hermione's finger hovered over a line in the text and Draco pulled her hand away from the scroll.
"Merlin Granger, if my ancestral magic so much as singes a single hair Potter will have my head on a platter. Stop pointing. Yes, I see it."
"It's talking about a box commissioned from the Goblins by the High King! Do you think that could be what we have?"
"Maybe." Malfoy was frowning over the yellowed parchment, squinting down at the writing. "I don't know how accurate this translation spell is, I'm going to need to check the original."
Hermione nodded absently and continued reading.
"Hermione," Quince said from across the room where he was still researching the runes on the pyramid, "you should eat something, it's lunch."
Hermione hummed in agreement, and then abruptly stopped. It was lunch; her mother could have visitors. She needed to go.
"Oh, right, I have an appointment I need to get to."
Malfoy gave her a confused look which was mirrored by Quince.
"It's nothing, just a family thing, I'll be back in about an hour."
She packed up her purse quickly and made her way out of the Ministry, torn between thinking about the scroll and worrying what awaited her at the hospital.
Harry had to see her.
Rationally, he knew that he would see Hermione that evening for their daily meeting, but he felt like he couldn't wait that long. Which is how he found himself in the lift to her workroom, trying to come up with a plausible excuse as to why he was visiting.
He had settled on 'just checking in' by the time he opened the workroom door.
Only to find no Hermione inside.
His face fell, and he caught sight of Draco, who smirked at him.
"She's not here," said Draco with barely suppressed laughter.
Harry rolled his eyes, but stepped further in the room anyway.
"I can see that. Where is she?"
The ghost floated towards him and regarded him thoughtfully. Harry was not used to being so keenly observed by one already dead.
"She had a personal errand and said she would be back after lunch. A family matter."
"Oh, okay," Harry cast his eyes around the room and saw that Nagnok was also watching him with sharp eyes, "well, I was just checking in to see what progress you have made."
"Sure you were," drawled Draco, his eyebrow arched suggestively.
"Oh, do shut up," bit out Harry.
A scroll laid out on the length of a worktable caught his eye. It looked ancient, and Nagnok was hunched over it, reading carefully.
"What's that?" He asked, wandering over to the scroll.
"Don't touch it, it only can be touched by the current Marquis of Caradoc. Even I cannot touch it without unpleasant consequences. Father brought it in this morning. It was written by the First High King."
Harry peered at the old text.
"Have you learned anything interesting?"
"Some. It seems to mention the commissioning of the box, and it also seems to reinforce that the title of High King is not hereditary, but is merit based. The seats on the Wizard's Council seem to be a mix of hereditary and elected. So far no mention of the True Crown or what the box was commissioned for, but we're only about a quarter of the way through the scroll."
Harry nodded, still looking at the ancient parchment.
"She should be back soon," offered by Quince, still regarding Harry carefully.
Harry absently rubbed his chest and nodded.
Draco was also watching Harry carefully. Merlin, was there something on his face?
"Also, you should know that Avery approached her this morning."
Harry's head flicked up, and he was instantly filled with an intense rage. It was so unexpected that the shock at the feeling almost calmed him.
"What do you mean Avery approached her?" Harry asked, voice tight.
"Just what I said. She was coming into work this morning and Avery grabbed her in the atrium. My father and I came across them when we were on our way in. It didn't look like a pleasant conversation."
"Tell me."
Draco shot him a worried glance. "You can't go and cut off his head. It would make Granger mad."
"I'm not going to—fine. I won't, I promise. What happened?" His fingers curled around the nearest worktop so tightly his knuckles went white.
"I'm not too sure. When we got there he had her by the wrist and was looming over her in that irritating way he does. She looked spitting mad. She told us he was asking about her work and telling her not to trust you."
Harry huffed out a sigh of irritation.
"That utter—fine. I'll deal with him later. When is she meant to be back?" He said in a low voice.
"Should be soon, She said she would be gone about an hour and that was an hour or so ago."
"Alright. I'll wait for her here then."
Harry sat at one of the worktables, back straight, still infuriated that Avery had the gall to approach Hermione.
Harry breathed deeply for a few seconds until he was sure he could hold a conversation without snapping.
A moment of silence passed until Harry broke it.
"How is dear old Lucy?"
Draco rolled his eyes. "You know he hates it when you and Sirius call him that."
Harry ginned, a roguish twinkle in his eye. "I know," he said, laughter in his voice.
"He's fine. He said he was going to go bother Sirius to RSVP to Mum's birthday party. Called him an awful mutt."
The two men exchanged amused looks before lapsing into silence again.
Harry began drumming his fingers on the table in front of him.
"I told you she should be here soon," Draco reminded, exasperated by Harry's obvious impatience, "Merlin, you are so smitten."
Harry didn't bother denying it. Rather, he kept his attention on the door, hoping she would walk through it soon.
It was less than five minutes later that Hermione entered the room. She looked rather wrung out, but her face lit with a smile when she saw Harry.
It made his chest warm as she made a beeline right towards him. He resisted the urge to pull her into his arms, cognizant that this was her workplace and that she might appreciate remaining professional here.
He did reach for her hand though. He wasn't made of stone after all.
"Harry, what are you doing here?" She asked, obviously pleased at his presence. She curled her hand around his and he took a second to marvel at how small her hands felt.
"I just swung by to see how things were going."
She raised a skeptical eyebrow that was eerily reminiscent of Malfoy. Perhaps they had been spending too much time together.
"Really? Well, did Malfoy tell you his father brought in the most fascinating scroll? I think we're going to be able to learn quite a bit from it!"
Her enthusiasm was contagious, and his lips quirked in a smile. He tucked a wayward curl behind her ear.
"I'm glad. I just wanted to check, do you have time for dinner tonight, after our meeting?"
"Of course," she said immediately.
Her affectionate look made him temporarily forget what he was going to say next.
"Was that all?" She asked.
"Um, yes. I'll—I'll see you later."
She shifted slightly so that his body obstructed her from the view of the rest of the room. She then brought his hand up to her lips and brushed a kiss against his knuckles.
"I'll see you then."
He pulled away reluctantly, and with one last glance over his shoulder, he left.
The lift was not empty when it stopped on Hermione's floor.
Ginny Weasley was leaning against the back wall of the lift, looking quite fetching. Her fiery red hair was caught up in a smooth high ponytail and her robes were cute and modern.
Hermione stepped inside and faced the lift doors, not giving Ginny a second look.
"Ahem."
The noise of someone clearing their throat echoed through the silent car. Hermione resisted the urge to turn around.
A minute later the noise happened again.
"Ahem."
Hermione closed her eyes to beg Magic for patience.
She was not unsympathetic to the youngest Weasley. It couldn't have been easy, having been possessed, opening the Chamber of Secrets, and having the entire school know. But Hermione had been petrified and Ginny had said nothing to her. No apology or even acknowledgement that something had happened between them. Between the many years that had passed and seeing each other every day for six years, there had been plenty of opportunity.
So instead of responding to Ginny's passive aggressive request for attention, Hermione made the choice not to say anything. Ginny had ignored Hermione for more than a decade, so she felt no reason to acknowledge the redhead now.
"Ahem."
That was it.
"Can I help you with something?" She kept her voice professional, but brusque.
"Hermione Granger, right? It's Ginny Weasley! We were in Gryffindor together!" There was a faux enthusiasm in her voice that automatically put Hermione's teeth on edge.
"Yes. I was a year ahead of you, I remember." She did her best to keep her voice calm and unaffected.
"How are you? I heard you're spending a lot of time with Harry Potter." Ginny's hands were in front of her, twisting together.
Hermione pursed her lips. So this is what she wanted. She still remembered how rabid Lavender and Parvati had been for information about Harry when they had come into the Junkshop. If she was going to continue to consort with Harry, interactions like this would surely become more commonplace.
"I'm fine, thank you for asking. I don't know where you heard that, but it's not something for me to comment on."
A frustrated frown passed across Ginny's face before she schooled her features into a tentative smile.
"I was wondering if you would mind if I joined you? Ron told me you met every evening."
Hermione pressed her lips together to repress the rude remark that was her first impulse. Instead, she took a moment to look first at Ginny's hopeful face, and then to the closed lift doors in front of her.
"I am on my way to a meeting with him about professional matters. I don't think that would be appropriate."
Hermione watched in the reflective surface of the lift doors as Ginny's brow creased and her mouth turned down in an unhappy moue.
"Oh, only it's that Ron is useless for this. I've met Harry a couple times, but only in passing. I asked Ron to help us get together. I've asked him about a dozen times now. I grew up with so many stories about Harry and I'm sure if I met him we'd get along like a house on fire." Ginny still had a hopeful glint in her eye.
Hermione bit her lip. How strange it must be for Harry to have fans to have people who thought they knew him.
"Sorry," said Hermione, though she really wasn't sorry, "it's a sensitive work matter."
She felt a wave of unexpected pity for this girl who was obviously in love with an idea and not a person.
"But," Hermione added, not thinking, "I'll pass along your hello."
Ginny let out a sigh of exasperation.
"Well, okay. But really, I would love to spend some time with him. So if you could help a fellow Gryffindor out?"
Hermione hummed noncommittally and rocked slightly back on her heels.
Mercifully the doors opened, so Hermione walked out quickly, leaving Ginny to look forlornly at her back.
Harry's door was open, so she knocked on the frame.
Harry was hunched over, one hand in his hair, the other gripped a quill with so much force she was surprised it hadn't broken.
At her knock he looked up and greeted her with a warm smile. Their eyes met, and that pull under her breast bone twisted, leading her further into the room.
"Hermione," he breathed out, sounding relieved and happy to see her, "have a seat."
His office was still very much a fire hazard; papers were scattered on all surfaces, including the floor. She wondered how he ever found anything.
She also wondered if after this was all over he might let her implement a filing system for him.
She sat on the edge of the only empty chair in the room, as he moved the report he was working on to the side.
"No real updates," said Hermione, "the scroll Lord Malfoy brought in is very promising, but it will take a few more days to a week to get through it. We've exhausted most of the runic dictionaries we have, and there are still some symbols on both the cube and the pyramid we can't identify. We've ordered more and I have Malfoy and Lady Longbottom raiding the ancestral libraries of the nobility. But so far there has been nothing. At some point we will need to discuss the option of just bringing the pyramid and the cube together and seeing what happens."
Harry frowned at her and brought his hand to his face, his thumb rubbing thoughtfully at his chin.
"Do you know what will result from that?"
Hermione shrugged a little helplessly.
"No, the hypothesis we're operating under is that it may have a similar result to breaking the ward. But that's pure guesswork at this point. I'm hoping that there might be more information we could find before we attempt that. But we are under a rather pressing deadline."
Harry ran a hand through his already disheveled.
"Yes, I know. 76 more days. Fewer probably, because I can only imagine the backlash if there were no warning that the government had lost the favor of Magic and we had been hiding it for three months. If there is no solution to be found, we need to know sooner rather than later."
"Fuck," Hermione breathed out. Harry was right, she had less time than she thought. She pressed a palm to her forehead while the other gripped the edge of his desk.
"But that doesn't mean that I want you cutting any corners, especially where safety is concerned." Harry reached across placed his hand on hers. Her grip on his desk loosened, and she tried to force her shoulders to relax.
She offered him a small smile and turned her hand so she could wrap her fingers around his palm and give it a reassuring squeeze.
"I know. But there will always be risks involved."
His mouth turned down at the edges, and he gave his head a firm shake.
Silence lingered for a moment as she tried not to think about what unpleasant consequences might await her if she was to open the cube unprepared. Breaking the ward on the cube had given her a concussion. Would opening it result in broken bones? Braking the ward had only required blood. Would opening the box require something more?
Harry ran his thumb across her palm, making her shiver and disrupting her cycling thoughts that had been rapidly becoming more and more catastrophic.
"I heard you were accosted by Avery," he kept his voice low and it was a statement and not a question.
"I'm not sure I would call it accosting," Hermione hedged.
"Then what would you call it?"
She bit her lip. "A confrontation? He wanted information, I declined. He seemed to believe that his social status meant that I was supposed to supplicate myself before him. I quickly disabused him of that notion." Her voice brittle recalling the disrespect he had shown her.
"What else?" Harry prodded, keeping up the small circles on her palm and making it difficult for her to think.
"He said not to trust you," Hermione rolled her eyes, "but the boat has sailed on that."
A pleased grin crept across Harry face, and she saw color fill the apples of his cheeks.
"And you met Lucy," Harry prompted
Hermione wrinkled her nose in confusion. "Lucy?"
"Lord Malfoy."
Her eyebrows raised, and her eyes widened. "You call Lord Malfoy—former Death Eater, feared by more than half of the Wizengamot—Lucy?"
Harry gave her a half shrug. "Sirius called him that first. It sort of stuck."
He leaned in conspiratorially. "He hates it", he divulged, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
She couldn't help the answering grin that stole across her face
"Yes, I met him. He told off Avery. It was very satisfying to watch."
"And Avery didn't—he didn't hurt you?" Harry asked, his eyes searching her face.
"No. I mean, he grabbed my wrist, which wasn't pleasant, but that's it."
She held up her right wrist, the one Avery had grabbed. The sleeve on her blouse slid down enough to expose the edge of what she was sure would be a spectacular bruise. Visible was the outline of fingermarks that had turned red as blood pooled to them; by tomorrow it would be black and blue.
Harry's had darted out to hers catching hold of the edge of her blouse, pulling it towards him. He used gentle fingers to unbutton the cuff of her blouse and rolled up the sleeve to expose the full mark. His fingertips traced the edges of the blooming bruise.
The red mark was bisected by the silver line outlined in white that the box had left, making the scar stand out.
She had the fleeting thought she should have healed her wrist. But she had been working and distracted all day, and hadn't noticed how it ached until now.
Harry's face went dark. His lips tightened and his jaw clenched.
"He did this to you?"
Her initial urge was to minimize it, play it down. But she immediately reconsidered. Why would she do that? She had no desire to protect Avery, and she didn't want to lie to Harry.
"Yes, I didn't realize it was so bad until just now. I can heal it."
His eyes were still on the mark. If he were looking at her the way he was looking at her wrist, she would have run in the opposite direction. His bright green eyes glinted with intensity, and his entire body was stiff.
"Let me." His voice was rough.
Harry's hand cradled her wrist, and he gently ran the tip of his wand over the mark. The gathered blood dissipated from under her skin, and the ache subsided.
She flexed her wrist to make sure that all the pain had faded and that she had her same range of motion.
"Did he touch you anywhere else?" Harry still wasn't looking at her face, his head tilted down and focused on the motion of his thumb, rubbing back and forth across the mark left by the box.
"No, that was it. I'm fine, I promise." She tried to reassure him, but she thought it was falling on deaf ears.
"You're going to floo in through the fireplace in the DMLE from now on." His tone brokered no argument.
But she still had to argue at least a little.
"That's not practical, I can't do that. I don't have a fireplace in my apartment." Hermione pointed out.
Harry sighed, frustrated. "Well then, let me set up a separate apparition point in the Ministry then."
Hermione didn't reject the suggestion out of hand. But turned it over in her head.
"Why?" She asked. She desperately needed the rationale that was not linked to his belief that she couldn't protect herself, or that she merited favoritism simply because of their connection.
"The security of your project is essential. Your role in the project is not replaceable. Avery is a foul man who associates with other foul men. And you are in their sights now."
His look turned chagrined. "Also, I don't like that he was able to get to you."
She considered his reasoning. It was true, she was personally intertwined with the project, and though her exact role was unclear, it was obviously essential. And she trusted that Harry was right about Avery. Their interaction that morning certainly hadn't warmed her to him.
"Okay."
"Okay?" Harry echoed back, eyebrows raised like he was surprised at her easy acquiescence.
"Yes. Okay. Your reasoning makes sense."
Harry's thumb was continuing to trace the line of the scar on her wrist.
They sat in silence for a minute, but it felt comfortable. Hermione felt lulled into calm by the movement of Harry's thumb and by his closeness. There was a warm content feeling that had welled up deep in her chest.
That was why she was taken by surprise when he asked his next question.
"Where were you at lunch?" His voice was soft.
"Visiting my mother." Hermione said, as her eyes drifted shut.
"How is she?"
Hermione sighed but kept her eyes closed. "Fine, they're keeping her on a psych hold for at least 72 hours, and then her physical injuries will probably add at least another week to her hospital stay. They're talking about only releasing her to a rehab."
"How do you feel about that?"
Hermione pressed her lips together and considered it. "To be honest? I feel relieved. I'm sure it makes me a terrible daughter—"
Harry interrupted "You're not a terrible daughter. You've done so much. Given up so much."
Hermione waived him away with her free hand, and he tightened his grip slightly around her right wrist.
"It certainly doesn't feel like that, especially right now."
He lifted her hand up and pressed a kiss on the delicate skin on the inside of her wrist.
The contact gave her a jolt, but something warm accompanied it, uncurling under her breast bone.
She opened her eyes and smiled at him. "Thank you."
He returned a warm look and made to stand. "Okay. Well, if that's it, let's go to dinner then."
She stood. He didn't let go of her hand as they made their way out of the Ministry.
Notes: This one came out later than usual because of real life stuff (finals and planning a cross country move), so I appreciate the understanding! A similar delay is expected with the next chapter. Comments and kudos are my love language. Seriously though, I adore hearing from you all. It is a delight.