CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
The work week was surprisingly boring and seemed to last forever, Hermione found. It was hard to keep her attention between the emotionally exhausting weekend she just had and the absolutely exciting one that approached. Her office seemed tame and small but inside Hermione's head was a parade of lingering thoughts and worries that were just far too easy to get lost in.
First off, there was the party. The majourity of the people she was about to see, she hadn't seen since Christmas, and in some cases, since last year's attendance. However, the majour differences between this year and last year's End of War Party was twofold. One, 2003 marks the fifth year since the battle of Hogwarts. This meant that it's been half a decade since the end of the War. At this point, the majourity of Hogwarts students had only seen the aftermath of the destruction on the castle and the people inside. Possibly the youngest combatants had just graduated in June, too, and if their guts were any indication of how they party, then the organizers won't know what hit them. Secondly, the Holyhead Harpies had played so terribly in the preseason that they were just two games away from dropping out this year.
And thus, Ginny Weasley was made the primary organiser this year.
The order of those in charge of the gathering happened like so.
Hermione headed the first celebration of the anniversary. Being one of the only 19 year old's in the castle, at the time. She bought all the alcohol she could afford from her tutoring gigs, which was plenty. Work was non-stop, being that every student needed to re-attended their previous year with some even having been barred from an education the year before. Remarkably, she had also convinced Minerva to host the party inside the castle during the last week of school. It had been a fantastic disaster. Every prohibited substance in Hogwarts A History had made an appearance that weekend and McGonagall had gotten so drunk, she enchanted all of the castle's suits of armour again and they partied long after every living being in attendance had passed out in exhaustion. They even needed to delay the Hogwarts Express home.
Next was Harry. He decided that Hogemede would be the location of the party. Using his new position as Junior Auror in Community Relations, he managed to get every shop, inn, and bar in town to open for 48 hours straight to accommodate the rush. Unfortunately, the absolute fanfare surrounding his name, the decision to host so publically, and not to mention that it was the turn of the century, led to over seven times the crowds of the year before. If Harry Potter was any other man in the world, he would've lost his job and received multiple charges for the sheer debauchery that his weekend facilitated.
Ron, however, had been incredibly well thought out in his maneuver. Seeing as he had two years to plan, he started by contracting vendors and acquiring all types of permits, months before the party began. He sent out invitations to all the attendants of Hermione's year and gave them all portkeys that would only activate for said guest and their plus one. Another large change that Ron enacted was to celebrate on the day that Hogwarts was unofficially rebuilt, not the day that the War ended, around the second last weekend of July. No more underage students crashing the party, either.
Then, using the Quibbler as the main source to spread the information to the public, he announced a number of tickets to be sold for a buy-in to pay over the expenses so far incurred. The locations for tickets were hand picked businesses of former fighters and families of victims of the War, with a concerted effort to help bring awareness to non pureblood owned businesses. All additional proceeds went to a War fund accessible to those who couldn't already be uplifted by this publicity stunt. His plan got the Original Dumbledore's Army as well as the Order of the Phoenix to spend time together alone for a more intimate gathering at the Hog's Head the Saturday morning before the party started.
The party itself took place, very sentimentally, in the Forest of Dean. Tents very similar to the Trio's time on the run, were given to every guest. Off duty Aurors, supplied by a very embarrassed Harry, oversaw the security of the party and prevented other crashers or more malicious attendees from entering. The guests would party all night and sleep in dark, cozy tents all day. Some of the best times Hermione had were at wee hours of the morning, when those who were too wired to sleep would build fires and camped out together, sharing stories.
Neville was the next to take charge on the fourth anniversary but chose not to make many changes from last year's success.
He did, however, take additional responsibility for organizing the DA and the Order's holiday get-togethers for the rest of the year. They were similar to Ron's pre-parties with the only change being that the rooms were provided at, the much cleaner, Three Broomsticks.
Aberforth was just as relieved as the rest of the guests.
Hermione watched the hours tick down to punch out. It was only Tuesday and yet, she was already done with the week. Twiddling a small, worn Rubik's cube at her desk in the Department of Mysteries, her blood hummed in anticipation to see the changes Ginny would make this year.
She put down the cube, two sequences from it's completion and stared at it. She had received a 3 by 3 for her Thirteenth Birthday from her dad. A play on numbers, he might've called it. The next year, a four by four, then a five by five, a six by six, a seven by seven but then, out of the blue, a 2 by 2. It was the month after the Battle of the Astronomy Tower. Dumbledore was dead and Hogwarts was taken by Death Eater rule. She, along with the rest of the students, went home for the Summer Hols early. Her teachers at one point Owled her the summer homework and she didn't touch it for weeks.
Then one day when Hermione was spending yet another evening watching movies in her pjs on the couch after another sleepless night, he dropped a small gift bag on her belly. "Got you something, Buttercup."
She glared at him for the jolt he caused her, but he only nodded to the bag and kissed her on the forehead.
A few weeks later, she dissolved every memory they had of her.
The 2x2 sat in front of her now, well loved. The rest of her collection, she suspected, were in various places of the Weasley household having almost every sibling, and one parent, try their luck at solving the damn things.
This one she kept.
Hermione sighed and looked at her spread of papers on her desk. All confidential and all alluring to her usually hungry mind. She imagined a little Hermione dressed in her usual school robes, new Rubik's cube to solve on the train to Hogwarts, who would be ecstatic at having a job like this. I spent a lot of time in the Infirmary fiddling with these things, too. She wished she could see that girl now and warn her.
The oily clock twitched soundlessly. She thought about the situation with the Longbottom's. This morning was an unexpected flurry of activity in the main atrium of the Ministry. Large panels of the uniform shiny black walls project several clips of Minister Kingsley and Harry announcing the miraculous awakening of Alice and Frank Longbottom. Daily Prophets and Quibblers were in everyone's hands in the elevator ride down. Each person exited the lift, completely consumed in the breaking news, and Hermione stood in the back corner, painfully empty handed. The front page of the Prophet showed Frank's laugh booming soundlessly as he shook Harry's hand so vigorously, that Harry's glasses slid down his nose. Alice stood back to back with her husband, her poses were of her giving the Minister of Magic a firm shake and looking strikingly into the camera.
Hermione was both impressed and queasy.
The apology from the day before was.. not a good experience for Hermione. It felt unearned. Here was a woman, a girl who just left Hogwarts and immediately joined both the Aurors and the Order of the Phoenix. And then, between the absolute stress and tension in the world, she married her high school sweetheart and had a baby too! Alice and Frank Longbottom had their full life ahead of them until it was cruelly snatched away.
They, like Harry's parents, were supposedly famous for their hero status in the British Wizarding Community.
Suppose a lot of people thought the same would occur with Ron and me. Hermione spun in her chair, thinking over the past few years. Hell, I did too.
Somewhere in the chaos, they'd lost the plot. Ron wanted forgiveness, Harry wanted to heal, Hermione wanted to forget.
Ginny and Harry were able to give each other what they needed. But me and Ron ? We just.. couldn't.
A weary sigh deflated her chest and she spun in her chair to face the back wall of her Office. It was just large enough for her to plant her feet on them to stretch out her sleepy legs.
Thankfully, she didn't lose all her friends.
Her mouth quirked fondly. Neville had grown to be an invaluable friend to Hermione that first year back at school. They both studied closely with the returning Professors, Neville with Professor Sprout and Flitwick, and Hermione with McGonagall, Vector, and Babbling. Along the way, Draco had also helped out with just Slughorn, and the three became a new, unlikely trio. Together they became something like Teacher Assistants, helping mark tests, papers, and projects of the younger students, mostly in the shadows of the quietly slumbering library walls.
They were all escaping something.
They all kept each other busy…
Hermione stared past her feet to zone out at the walls of her Office, smooth and dark as hot tar. Just like a stroll down memory lane to pull her away from reality again, dragging over her body thickly and swallowing her up in a warm, gooey embrace.
I need to get my mind off of the past.
Her shoes parted cleanly from the sinister wall. Not a trace of muck.
She groaned.
She'd left her boots and cloak in the Room of Requirements the other day on accident.
And then there's the biggest headache of them all.
Bellatrix.
Bellatrix Black LeStrange.
Hermione's mind flushed vividly at the thought of the witch. At least that purged itself of it's lonely self cannibalizing thoughts. Bellatrix's charcoal eye's and disarming smiles.. Thinking back, she wasn't even certain if the ghost appeared translucent at all the last time she saw her ! She seemed so real. And her hand … She blushed, heat gathering in her cheeks and chest. What was with her anyway? Making all those damn comments..
She was intriguing in so many ways. Most would shoot that familiar trill through her middle.
Along with a stirring of something else than she'd have to examine another time.
The red leather she sat on let out a small creak in the vacuum silence of her office. I need to get a grip.. That witch isn't some pet project or some pretty face, she's a psycho… The voice in her head who made the reasonable points lectured but Hermione had a hard time taking heed of the warnings lately.
Besides, she reasoned. Bellatrix was essentially harmless.. Unlike Alice Longbottom.
She didn't regret releasing them, but she did regret that Alice had seen her do it. After all, breaking the spell was a good thing. That thought didn't do anything to subside the guilt she harboured. So much guilt .. Her jaw clenched. Fucking Bellatrix. She could practically hear the ghost respond with half a dozen sultry responses. She snorted haughtily to herself. Her collar burned at the thought and a swirling of a different kind of heat brewed somewhere she consciously didn't dare place.
Why am I so affected by her ?
Absentminded fingertips brushed at her blouse and loosened the top two buttons. The skin on her collarbones were way too sensitive to have that sort of reaction by the new, slightly cool air. Her knees came together and her focus of attention drew south of her sternum. Hermione finally acknowledged her predicament and added it to the list of her ever growing worries. She couldn't believe the strength and speed of her body's reaction. Even shifting in her seat seemed like a salacious idea at the moment.
So she remained still in her pleasant suffering.
Letting her breaths grow heavy of their own accord, she meditated on her body's strange response. Instead of letting her mind determine prematurely the reason for her behaviour, she curiously decided to just lean back and observe.
First, she relaxed her legs to fall from their position pinned to the wall. She thought she quite liked the view of her legs suspended in the air. The trill in her stomach added with something heady, the knowledge that she's sitting in her office, alone, in her very nice Ministry job… and getting off.
It was beyond her usual thrill of bending rules.. There was always a motive there. The good outweighed the consequences.
But now ?
It was the fact that there were consequences that drew the delicious excitement.
So she shifted in her seat. The heat itched.
So she rubbed her thighs together. Her eyes fluttered.
So she took in a deep breath and imagined palms dragging across her ribs to meet her breasts. She released the held breath.
Hermione clutched and relaxed her grip on her chair arms. The next exhale was low and raggedy. Her blood was hot and determined.
God… What am I doing ?
Then there was a knock at the door.
Her feet slammed to the floor so fast that her body flung instinctually to stand and professionally greet the visitor. Heart hammering and blood rushing to rerouted paths made Hermione blink at her blotchy vision and distantly wondered when was the last time she ate.
"Come in !" Her throat sounded too dry and she immediately conjured up a cool glass of water to chug.
The door swung open and in walked Lex in their custom frills and pipe. "'Ello, 'Ermione." They smiled happily around both their pipe as well as an over exaggerated English accent. "Whotcher'?"
The lingo sounded foreign coming from their lips and Hermione smiled back weakly. "Hello, Lex. What brings you by ?"
She felt sorry for her shortness to essentially her only colleague, but was too busy gathering her wits to offer anything more. Thankfully, they only puffed out some red smoke from their nose and continued their closed mouth smile. "Ah, caught you during your evening Pepper Up break ?"
Luckily, she managed to send her cup into oblivion before she accidentally dropped it. "What ? No. It's water."
Sage filled the room along with that zingy fragrance. "Yes, and I'm smoking dried raspberries. You know, people weren't made with the intent to sit and focus for one third of our days." They leaned causally on one leg and Hermione wondered again what it was inside that pipe. "Anyways, I was stretching my legs and thought if you'd like some coffee ?"
A part of her wanted to decline as usual, but she'd been acting very unusual all day so why stop now. Besides, she didn't trust her mind or her body to be alone with herself at the moment. "Sure, Lex."
They took the elevator back up and the tiny box was nearly swarming with intra office notes. It made Hermione weary of the twitching paper, but Lex looked as calm as one would be relaxing at the end of a dock. "Suppose everyone is buzzing about the Longbottom's, eh ?"
The air was heavy with paper and Hermione's personal cloud of apprehension. "Yeah, crazy.."
"Mhm, the papers are vague about their recovery but I suppose the information is locked tight at the moment." A few of the notes shivered at the Lex's fine, misty exhale. "Exciting time to be an Unspeakable, hm?"
Hermione could barely nod.
The door opened to a mutual Ministry cafeteria area. It was about half the size of the main atrium and twice the height to hold the large windows to the real outside world. Birds of all sizes flocked down a terminal to bring in take out and other food deliveries to the handful of cafeteria workers there. It was a constant revolution of wizards and birds that operated the station for pick up, expertly placed next to the elevators for hungry office workers tight for time.
The large room echoed and was less busy than Hermione expected.
It had the Ministry's trademarked black, sleek aesthetic look that contrasted with the bright blue skies visible through the vast windows. The cafeteria operated more as a place to order and receive orders of food rather than to encourage people to sit down with their meals. No table seemed equipe to hold more than two seats at a time. Even more so, the area was charmed to have little to no smell lest someone got any ideas for sticking around, much to Hermione's relief. Her belly cringed on it's emptiness reflexively.
Further into the middle of the room held a station for kettles of never ending hot water and cauldrons filled with any type of beverage. The arching ceilings provided a place for the steam to rise and the fumes could be seen in plump columns in the midday light.
Hermione paid an extra coin to the elf who maintained the area. He wore a fitted but not tight uniform of pure black, as speculated in the terms for Ministry Elf workers. The elf looked familiar and she suspected she'd seen him when organizing the Elf Labour Union a year or so back. Then again, he didn't seem to recognize her back, yet he delivered her cup to exact measurements of her liking without her saying a word. He already knew my order.. Lex was traveling back with an unconscionably tall travel mug of coffee and noticed the silent exchange.
Thankfully, they didn't say anything about it.
They plopped themselves into the deserted sea of single seat tables and took a few moments to let their beverages cool. At least, Hermione did. Lex had started slurping at their mug that sounded like it sizzled at its chrome edges. "How's your day going, Hermione ?"
She smiled at her first name. "Terrible ? I've got a terrible case of foggy brain."
Lex hummed and looked over to where the pastries were sold. " Ah, well Nargles usually can't get into our Department, but they have been known to try."
"Ah, you too ?" Hermione could only shake her head as she dared sip at her swirling pale drink.
"Seeing isn't always believing and there is so much more than meets the eye."
She squinted. "Isn't that from something ?"
"Televisions really ought to be in every wizarding home in the UK." Sharp canines flashed excitedly. "There's more out there and I want to believe"
Hermione didn't bother to question the crypt answer and remained silent instead. They sipped their drinks peacefully.
"You know, I've said you'd before that you'd be well suited to meet the Head Mistress of Hogwarts ?" A gentle nod caused their lilac strands to simmer. "Well, I'd bet you'd hit it off with some of my other friends, too.. The End of War party is this weekend, would you care to come ?"
Lex gave a full smile, lighting up their narrow, angular features. "I'd love to."
Hermione nodded back and broke the eye contact guiltily. "Good.."
She sat warming her digits against her cup. Air streamed out her nose in a short sigh and she repeated, "Good, good. I can let Ginny know to expect you at the Hog's Head in Hogmead. I'll be apparating around noon but we can make sure the floo is available."
They nodded. "Thank you, Hermione."
She smiled into her cup with an absentminded nod. She was deep in thought about the Longbottom's. Sure, she would've invited Lex anyhow, but the idea that she could always excuse herself to champrone her colleague around the party was a much needed relief. There was no way that the Longbottoms wouldn't be there and Hermione didn't want to be caught in a crowded room with Alice anymore than she had too.
A croissant slid into her view. "Here."
Looking up, Hermione saw Lex's gentle gaze before they raised their mug to their mouth. "Your stomach growled."
"Oh no, it's-" Her cheeks heated in a blush.
"I insist. I got one, too, see ?" They lifted a large, golden crescent of their own and half smiled. They had to nod once more knowingly for her to give in. Together they took a crunchy, soft bite in unison.
The day ended quickly after they returned to their Department with Hermione feeling slightly less anxious for the weekend.