As a reminder the explicit version of this fic is on AO3 (username MissELY), this is only the T version.
My ask box is always open on tumblr (username MissElyLux) if you have any questions.
When they got to the Ministry it was in chaos. They had come through the private entrance for the head of the DMLE, going right to his office. But the bullpen was in a tizzy, and Harry's desk was even more covered than usual in paper.
"Shit," he ran a hand over his face, clearly exasperated, "I should have known that this would be a headache."
"Well, we'll just have to get to work then," Hermione said, keeping her tone matter of fact. "You obviously have work to do here, I need to get down to the workroom to talk to the team and see what progress has been made.
Harry nodded, and as she pulled away, he reluctantly let her go. As her fingertips were about to slip from his hand, he pulled her back in, bringing his lips to hers in a searing kiss.
"In case we can't get any privacy until later," he whispered, his words hot against her skin. A full body shiver ran through her and a wide grin stole across her face. She wrapped both arms around his neck and brought him close again, kissing him deeply, her tongue playing with his.
When she pulled away, they were both breathless and smiling.
"Am I staying with you again tonight?" She asked, smoothing her hands over her outfit, trying to assure that there were no obvious wrinkles in the lovely garment Narcissa had chosen for her.
"I'd like that. We can't properly ward your flat. Dad and Remus would love to play hosts to you again, if that's okay with you?"
Hermione nodded. It was practical, and besides, she felt safe staying there with all of this unrest. "As long as you're there too."
A charming blush warmed Harry's cheeks and he gave her a playful grin. "Of course."
"Okay, then I'm off," she again turned towards the door, but Harry still had a hold of her hand.
"One second, I'm going to get an Auror to walk you down there."
Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but the serious look on Harry's face stopped her. Instead, she nodded. Harry tapped his wand twice on the table and a minute later there was a knock on his door. Harry told the person to enter, and Ron Weasley swung the door open, a bored look on his face.
"You're the Auror on duty?" Harry asked. Hermione could detect something tight around his eyes, and tried to remember if Harry had talked to her about Ron.
"Yeah, what do you need...sir?" There was an unpleasant edge to Ron's voice and his arms crossed in front of his chest.
"Her Majesty needs to be accompanied to the research workroom." Harry still wasn't smiling, and she couldn't help but look between the two men.
"Alright," Ron said and turned toward Hermione.
"Thank you," she did her best to smile sincerely and Ron, and gave Harry's hand a reassuring squeeze. "I'll see you later," she told Harry, and walked out the door, feeling Harry's eyes follow her path out.
She and Ron walked in silence through the bullpen to the lifts. The lift wasn't empty when it arrived, instead, Ginny Weasley was there.
This obviously surprised Ron, as he stopped short, right in front of Hermione, making her run into his back.
"Gin? What are you doing here?"
"Meeting with Magical Games and Sports about the current Quidditch season, given the…" she trailed off as Hermione detangled herself from Ron, brushing down the front of her skirts.
"Oh, um, er, nice to see you, your majesty." Ginny's voice came out stilted and awkward and with a flash Hermione realized that this might be the tone of a lot of her interactions in the near future with people who had once ignored her.
She forced a bland smile on her face. "Nice to see you again, your brother was just escorting me back to my workroom."
Ginny's eyes bounced between Ron and Hermione, her lips pressing together slightly as she took a step further back into the lift to allow Ron and Hermione to board.
The silence was awkward, and Hermione could feel Ginny's gaze on the back of her neck. It didn't feel unfriendly, but it felt curious. It reminded her of how other girls had looked at her after Viktor Krum had asked her to the Yule Ball and she had declined. Assessing, bewildered, and just a touch skeptical.
"So," Ginny finally said after the silence had stretched thin and Hermione was just barely refraining from fidgeting due to the awkwardness. "Ron, is footman a promotion or a demotion?" The teasing smile on the other woman's face made something ease in Hermione's chest.
Ron scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Shut up Gin."
Hermione bit back a smile of her own, which Ginny surely saw, because her grin grew in response.
The lift reached the floor for Magical Games and Sports and Ginny stepped off the lift. Before fully exiting, she turned around to look at Hermione.
"I just—Your Majesty—" she broke off and gave her head a brief shake. "Congratulations Your Majesty, you and His Grace looked—congratulations" she said, and then bit down on her lip and made her way swiftly out of the lift.
Hermione looked to Ron, who didn't look at her, but kept his face towards his sister's retreating back, a puzzled frown on his face.
The rest of the trek to the workroom was made in silence, and Ron left her at the door, turning swiftly on his heel, retreating back down the hall before she had the opportunity to thank him.
As soon as Harry got the notification that Hermione was back in her workroom, he let his shoulders relax, but only slightly.
He was signing his name on various requisition forms when Sirius knocked on the doorframe, waltzing in and not waiting for an answer.
"When one knocks, they're normally supposed to wait for an invitation inside," Harry said, a wry smile on his face.
"Those are niceties not meant for fathers," Sirius said, waving the comment away with a flourish of his hand.
"How can I help you, Lord Black?" Harry asked, steepling his hands in front of him.
Sirius threw himself into the only empty chair, slumping artfully once he was seated. "Oh, don't be so formal, pup. I'm just here to make sure your lady love is properly protected."
"I don't think it's proper to refer to the Queen as my lady love." Harry raised a single eyebrow at his father, a technique the older man had taught Harry himself.
"Nonsense. If I can't be informal with the High Queen, then being your dad has no perks."
Harry rolled his eyes. "What do you actually want?"
Sirius straightened, a serious expression crossing his face. "Sir Avery has demanded a meeting."
Harry instantly tensed. "With who? Through who?"
"With Her Majesty, through Lucy."
Something cold pricked at Harry's insides. He didn't like this. Sure, he trusted Lucius, but for Sir Avery to feel so confident to demand a meeting with the woman who Magic had anointed as queen, so soon after she had been discovered made him uneasy.
"Why?" Drumming his fingers on the table top, Harry resisted the urge to just go seek out Sir Avery and deal with the asshole himself.
Sirius frowned, his eyes on Harry's face. "He says he wishes to discuss his demands to release his hold on the votes to ensure that they can vote through the most basic laws that allow the Ministry to continue to operate."
Harry said nothing, letting the silence linger for a second.
"You know, you can't just go and kill him." Sirius said in a conversational tone.
Harry scowled. "I know that Dad."
"Just checking. The look on your face just now told me you want to though."
A full body sigh escaped Harry's lips and he ran his hands through his hair. "I don't like how precarious her position is. She needs to undergo whatever coronation ritual is required, and we need to make sure she has a firm base of power and doesn't have these fucking Death Eater wannabes trying to undermine her at every turn."
Harry's hands fell to the desk. He just felt so helpless. At every turn there seemed to be more uncertainty, and he desperately wished he could just whisk Hermione away from here and out of danger. He would have suggested if, if he weren't sure that she would reject the option out of hand. She had a sense of responsibility and curiosity that he admired. She would never turn away, not when she thought she could help and not when she thought she could learn more.
Sirius reached across the table to rest a hand on Harry's in a reassuring gesture.
"We'll get her there. This isn't on you alone. That Skeeter article has already helped her gain quite a bit of public support, especially among the halfblood and Muggleborn communities."
"I know." A reluctant smile pulled at the corners of his lips. "Her mail has been routed to the DMLE and is being checked for curses and poisons. I just read the report, of the four hundred or so letters that have already been processed, all were very positive."
Sirius drew back his hand and reclined once more in his seat. "Maybe we could get rid of Avery if you could finally connect him to the corruption in the Auror department."
"Maybe." Harry frowned. "It's hard. He works through shell companies that own shell companies that own shell companies, so connecting him to bribes and blackmail has proven difficult. We need him to make another move in order to ensure we have enough evidence."
Harry certainly had some circumstantial evidence, but nothing that would hold up against a peer with as much power as Sir Avery had. He needed a smoking gun.
"That's inconvenient." Sirius said, tapping his index finger on the bridge of his nose thoughtfully.
"I'm aware." Harry resisted rolling his eyes, but only just barely.
There was silence as Harry contemplated different ways he might get dirt on Avery, but his machinations came to a halt as a sly smile crept across Sirius's face.
"What?" Harry asked, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"Is she staying with us again tonight?" Sirius asked, coking his head, an attempt at an innocent expression on his face. Harry recognized that expression though. Nothing good came from that expression.
"Yes." Harry drew the word out, his eyes still narrowed. "Her apartment can't be warded easily, and I've had people come over to my place who I don't trust with her."
"Good, if Grimmauld is where she is safest, we're happy to have her."
"Thank you." Harry was still frowning, uncertain of—
"Just remember to silence your room." Sirius said, laughter in his voice.
"Dad!" Harry felt the blush start on his neck, burning its way up his face, surely turning his cheeks very red.
"Well, there was that one time—" The teasing lilt in Sirius's voice was obvious.
Harry threw up his hands in exasperation. "Dad! I was 19! You and Remus were supposed to be out of town!"
"I'm just saying." Sirius barely got the words out through his laughter.
"Leave, just, get out." Harry dropped his head to his desk with a thump.
The chair Sirius was in scraped back as Sirius stood. "Fine! Just so you know, Remus and I have a meeting with our factions tonight, we'll be back late."
"Okay, fine, goodbye." Harry said, his voice muffled slightly by the papers on his desk
"But that still doesn't mean you shouldn't silence—"
Harry jabbed a finger at his door. "Leave!"
Sirius's laughter could be heard all through the bullpen.
Hermione was exhausted.
When she had opened the door to her workroom she had been greeted by more people than she had ever seen in the room, and seemingly more had come in every few minutes.
At least most of them had been useful, even if they were startlingly obsequious. That was weird trying to get used to.
Draco had brought a familiar face and welcome word that Avalon had been easy to find, appearing on a map he had found in the unlocked Hogwarts tower. So at least that was one less thing on her plate. The downside was that it was on an island off of the coast of Scotland that was inaccessible via apparition, and so strongly warded that Penelope, who had tried to visit, had been rebuffed and denied entry.
However, what was more concerning was the political strife that her ascension to the throne had caused. Not that there was a throne yet. But still.
It was approximately four hours after she had left Harry's office, countless documents reviewed, Lord and Lady Malfoy coming by, Sirius dipping in and out, Minister Shacklebolt spending a few hours at her side, and meeting more members of the Wizengamot than she had before in her entire life, and all she wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep for several years.
The Malfoys had asked if they could have the honor of hosting her Coronation Ball. Hermione could tell though that asking her permission was really more of a social courtesy, because the looks on their faces made it clear she couldn't say no. So instead, she had nodded and thanked them for thinking of it
The only saving grace had been Quince, who had hovered comfortingly nearby, offering his own insights, which, to be honest she trusted more than those of her human advisors.
The representative from the Goblins—not Nagnok, since he was still tied up in the High King archives in the Goblin Kingdom—gave her a courteous bow, and as he left, he held the door open, allowing Harry to step inside.
Hermione had to physically hold herself back from throwing herself at him, satisfying herself by allowing a warm wide smile to come across her face. Being reserved and queenly, whatever that meant, took it out of her. There was only so long she could channel Narcissa Malfoy.
"I'm here to collect Her Majesty," Harry said, bowing towards her, a smile matching her own gracing his face.
Hermione didn't wait for permission, instead she stood, making everyone else who was seated in the room scramble to also stand. She barely concealed a wince. She really needed lessons or something.
"Please, if you have business here, feel free to stay. I'll be back in the morning." She gave the room what she hoped was a gracious nod, and allowed Harry to take her arm and lead her out of the room.
They reached the lift in silence. Once inside they were blissfully alone, but Hermione still cast a silencing charm. Which for some strange reason seemed to make Harry blush slightly.
She gave him a quizzical look, but he shook his head slightly, so she refrained from asking.
"Did I just fuck that up?" She asked quietly, taking a step closer to Harry. She was near enough to feel the comforting heat from his body.
"You did fine," he murmured, gathering her close. His touch made her feel safe, but hyper-aware of all the places they touched, his hand on her back, the other on the back of her neck, his chest pressed to hers. She allowed herself to melt into him, revelling in their closeness.
She nuzzled into his chest, inhaling his scent more.
"Just take me home," she said.
He squeezed her closer to him and began to use his hand on her back to stroke up and down the length of her spine. "Okay. You're staying at Grimmauld again."
Hermione shut her eyes tightly. She had hoped she could go back home, and maybe, possibly, just spend one night pretending that her entire life hadn't been smashed to itty-bitty pieces and reassembled into something she didn't recognize at all in the course of one day. She tried to press down that feeling, the one that made her want to print away from this situation and bury her head in the sand, but it still pressed against the back of her throat, choking off her words. So instead she nodded, and pulled away from Harry slightly.
Keeping a hand on her lower back, he led her out of the lift and to the apparition point. She was proud that she was able to keep her head held high and her shoulders squared, despite the feeling that her chest was caving in on itself.
Harry could tell that there was something wrong with Hermione as he did his best to get them to the apparition point quickly and with as little fuss or attention as possible. She was doing an excellent job keeping a brave face on, but there was a pang in his chest and somehow, he just knew. Chalk another one up to their soul bond. It really was a shame there was no definitive text on it, something that could have prepared him for this hollow, desperate feeling that her distress caused him.
They arrived at 12 Grimmauld Place with a near inaudible pop, and Harry immediately swept Hermione up into his arms. She resisted at first, pushing away, and squirming a little. He would have let her go had her hands not been desperately pulling him closer at the same time. It was like there was an internal battle, whether she wanted him closer or farther away, but either way, Harry did his best to let her decide what she wanted.
She let out a noise of distress, something high and keening from the back of her throat that made his decision for him. He picked her up and carried her to his room. She wrapped her arms around his neck, letting herself be held.
Gently placing her on his bed, she flopped down, tears at the corners of her eyes. His first priority was making her comfortable. He wasn't sure what had upset her, but he didn't want to press her further. He could only imagine what she must be going through, being thrown into the deepest end of the peerage with no preparation and no notice, going from a complete unknown to being made the most important person in wizarding Britain in the blink of an eye. As far as he was concerned, her distress was merited.
He stayed standing, but leaned down to take off her shoes, using a flick of his wand to ensure they went to his closet. He ran his knuckles down her instep and tension bled out of her. He did the same thing on the other foot and she sighed. He looked up, trying to make sure it hadn't been a sight of distress, but she had thrown an arm over her eyes.
"Can I get you out of this uncomfortable clothing?" He kept his voice low, aiming for soothing.
She didn't respond. Instead she threw her arm off of her face and regarded him through eyes that were rimmed red. His heart clenched, but he kept pity out of his expression. She didn't need that, and besides, he didn't pity her, he just was upset that she was upset.
"This is silly," she said, her voice slightly hoarse.
"I'm sure you've had an overwhelming day," his hand wrapped around her ankles like shackles. She pushed further into his grasp.
Flapping her hand as if to dismiss his sympathy, Hermione sighed.
"It's just that—I just hate being bad at things. And I have this terrible feeling that I'm an awful Queen, even if only a temporary one, and there are a limited number of things I can do to become a better Queen, seeing as there hasn't been one in hundreds of years, and everyone seems to have all these expectations of me, and I don't know how to meet them, and it feels like everyone knows more than me, and that things are being kept from me, and—"
Harry cut her off, as she had rambled, her voice had gotten higher and closer to tears. He squeezed her ankles, and she stopped talking immediately.
"Take a deep breath," he pitched his voice low and commanding, like he sometimes had needed to back in the States with new Auror recruits who started to spiral.
She locked eyes with him, and breathed in and out, following the pattern of his breath.
"Good girl," he said, stroking his thumb in circles over the indent behind the delicate bone of her ankle. He felt her full body shiver at his actions, and another idea bubbled up. Perhaps she needed to be distracted. He knew how to provide distraction.
Harry took her breath away, literally and figuratively. But at the moment of their shared release, the heat that had been contained by her skin seemed to seep out of her every pore, and as they made love, a visible golden light that originated in her chest twined around the couple, sinking into the center of Harry's back. He jerked slightly, and a matching light, nearly crimson in color, emanated from where his hands held her hips, sinking into her skin there.
They stayed still, both out of breath. His head dropped to her shoulder and she brought up a hand to rake through his hair. He kissed her shoulder and then twisted them, pulling her so that he was on his back and she was draped on top of him, her head now on his shoulder.
He kissed her head again, wrapping an arm around her. Hermione snuggled in closer to him, yawning widely, strangely unbothered by the display of magic that had just happened.
"Are we going to—" she was interrupted by another yawn, this one so big it made her jaw crack, "—to talk about what just happened? With the lights?"
Harry's yawn mirrored hers as he ran a hand up and down her back in a soothing motion that made her eyes droop.
"We can research it in the morning."
"Promise?" Her eyes were shut and she felt herself begin to drift.
"Yes, love. I promise."
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