Hello everyone! Here it is; chapter twelve!
My editor gave me some really, really good advice for this chapter. She told me to split it. I refused, and here we are. It's massive.
Enjoy, and thank you all so much for reading! Your reviews give me life! You're the best.
Hermione awoke to sunlight.
Sitting up was easy.
The moment she did, Madame Pomfrey appeared at her bedside. It was sort of uncanny, the way she always knew when she was needed. Always there to heal the sick and the weary, and make them drink some god-awful potion.
But Hermione didn't have time for any of that. She remembered everything. Instead, she launched into a stream of questions. How long had she been asleep for? Was Lucius going to be alright? Had the evacuation been successful? Was the patch-up job she'd done on the barrier holding?
Had the dementors really died?
Luckily, the Infirmary Witch was used to being peppered by all sorts of questions by newly awakened patients. Pomfrey answered everything shortly and matter of factly. She'd slept for almost a full day. Yes, everyone was fine. Lucius was in the bed next to hers, sleeping, and with only a little prodding, she pulled back the curtain to show Hermione. Some people had been hurt during the evacuation, but George Weasley had held the tunnel against the dementors until they had crossed the boundary into Hogwarts. For the first time since Fred's death, the magpie had flown.
It… it had worked. Everyone was okay. Hermione could hardly believe it.
The second she'd answered the last of her questions, Madame Pomfrey gave her a bowl of chocolate ice cream and crossed her arms meaningfully. Under Pomfrey's watchful eyes, Hermione ate the whole thing.
"Alright." Pomfrey said, out of nowhere. "You can come in."
The curtains parted and Minerva stood there. The Headmistress did not look thrilled to have been held off from seeing her.
Without preamble, the Headmistress said, "Hermione, the Minister for Magic has owled for you. I'm sorry, but given the circumstances…"
"I'll be right there." Hermione promised, and Minerva gave her an approving, proud smile that made the horror of the dementors seem worth it, somehow.
As the Headmistress left, Hermione's eyes fell upon Lucius of their own accord. Pomfrey had put their beds near enough together that she could have reached out and touched him, had she wanted to. Lucius lay in a state of perfect slumber. His platinum hair fanned out on the pillow beneath his head. He looked… peaceful. It wasn't the radiant peace that had been upon him when he had held up the Joy Stone, but something much more natural, more sustainable. Hermione couldn't help but smile to see it.
She hoped he would recover soon. There was no telling what the Joy Stone might have done to him. She hoped its effects wouldn't be permanent. Her own initial experiments with it had certainly left her giddy, but nothing like what Lucius had experienced.
And yet, despite his overwhelming reaction to the Stone, he had still been able to achieve something that was supposed to be impossible. How many dementors had there been in the clearing before Lucius had destroyed them? Two dozen? More? It was hard to say. One dementor looked much the same as any other.
Hermione's instincts told her that the way he had looked down to the Stone had had something to do with it. The memory was so clear in her mind; his eyes wide open as he stared down into the heart of the Stone, the radiance flickering over his face… the key lay there, she was sure of it.
Noticing her lingering, Pomfrey said kindly, "I'll look after him, Hermione. There's a cup of hot chocolate with his name on it."
"Thank you. Can you tell him-" Tell him what? Hermione had no idea. She felt strangely overwhelmed. She was tired; not physically, but in other ways. And yet she couldn't bring herself to leave him without a message. "Tell him I'll see him later."
Pomfrey allowed Hermione to leave the Infirmary under several strict conditions. The first was that she should be kept warm and be allowed constant access to chocolate for at least the next twenty-four hours. The second was that she should not be allowed to Apparate. The third was that she should not be immediately conscripted to destroy every dementor in England with whatever new magic she had apparently come up with.
These terms were obviously agreed to (though not by Hermione, who apparently could not be trusted to promise not to save the world at her own detriment, given half the chance), because it was under the watchful eyes of five grizzled Aurors that Hermione was shepherded to the Ministry like a great precious jewel. This struck her as rather funny, since the truly valuable cargo was in fact the Stone she kept in her pocket.
What also struck her as funny was the fact that if the thing they actually feared struck in any meaningful numbers, she would be the one guarding them.
At the very least, the Aurors made sure no-one got in her way or tried to question her, and they took her through the Official Entrance of the Ministry with minimal fuss. She was given a special pass, and they took her straight to the Minister's Office, where Kingsley awaited.
Kingsley Shacklebolt was every bit as powerful a presence as he had been when he was in active service in the Order. His years as Minister for Magic had only made him more intimidating.
He stood tall and powerfully built, in the plum robes that had become his signature dress. He had grown older, as they all had. Him, perhaps more so than others. While they had all gone a more free spirited path, Kingsley had taken on the burden of leadership.
The power of his office weighed on him. In one of the letters he occasionally wrote to her, Kingsley had told her that he had found more treachery, cruelty, and danger in one Upper Ministry Grand Committee meeting than he had in all his years as an Auror. She saw those battles upon his face now. There were wrinkles on his forehead and around his mouth that had not been there when she had last seen him… when would it have been? The Goblin Debates? Years ago, now.
As she studied him, he stood up out of his chair and crossed the room to her. His face was strangely ashen. She saw hope on his face, yes, but there was fear there too.
Kingsley held out his hand. "I've taken the potions you asked me to take. May I see it?"
Hermione gave him the Stone. With incredible care, he held it up to the light. He studied it intently for a moment, turning it this way and that.
"And it's true that with this, you and Lucius Malfoy… killed dementors?" His dark eyes fixed upon her, and Hermione realised that he didn't know quite whether to believe her or not. She didn't blame him.
"Well, that bit was all Lucius. He's given me some ideas. I think with some tweaking and some time, I can make them more reliable and reduce the side effects so that people can use them safely." She knew Kinglsey had been told what had happened to Lucius. "We should be able to deter the dementors, or get rid of them completely if they get too close."
"What do you need?" The Minister asked bluntly, giving her back the Stone. "Resources, staff, just name it. Your research will be our number one priority. You must make as many of these Stones as can be made. The Ministry will fund it. How long does it take you to make one?"
Hermione considered. "Once I've got all the potions prepared and the materials ready? About fifteen minutes."
A wide smile dawned on Shacklebolt's handsome face. "By Merlin, we can do it. Finally! I'll give you an Order of Merlin for this. First class. In time, even… Have you considered a career in politics?" He asked, looking thoughtful.
Hermione laughed it off. "That's sweet, really, but no thanks. I'm happy where I am."
"Alright. Do you know if the Joy Stone has any negative effect on muggles?"
Hermione was very proud of Shacklebolt, then. There weren't many Ministers who would have even thought of Muggle safety at a time like this.
Honestly, she replied, "I have no idea, but I'm sure we can find out."
"I'll get the Head of Muggle Affairs on it. I'll make some sort of departmental announcement to ensure everyone's full cooperation with you on this. The wizarding world comes first, obviously, but if it's safe to do so, I'd be happy to share it with the muggles too." A frown crossed his face. "I'm just not sure how we'll be able to keep them safe. There's so many of them."
"I could try making the Stones larger, give them a wider area of effect, then put them in the cities." Hermione said. "It'll buy us some time, anyway. Dementors will always go where the population is thickest."
"Wouldn't the muggles notice? They're not exactly normal looking, are they?"
"You could pass it off as an art installation." Hermione suggested. "Muggles will put up with anything, no matter how odd it looks, as long as it's art."
Shacklebolt laughed, and offered her his hand to shake.
"Kingsley?" Hermione asked. "I think you meant that you're going to give an Order of Merlin to both of us. Lucius was the one who came up with it, remember? He's the one who turned the Joy Stone from a shield into a weapon."
The Minister barely missed a beat. "Of course." Kingsley said. "If you're sure…"
"I'm positive."
"Well, then. Leave the award ceremony to the Ministry. We'll hold it after this is all over. People will want something to look forward to."
Then Kingsley called in his Assistant, and told him what needed to be done.
While Shacklebolt was organising a full meeting, Hermione took the opportunity to send McGonagall a Howler via the Ministry Floo explaining everything. The Headmistress replied almost straight away. She was very proud and very understanding. She urged Hermione not to worry about a thing, and to focus on getting them all out of this mess. She could organise a substitute Charms Professor for a few weeks, and she could manage Gryffindor.
Minerva also gave her some wonderful news, which the whole school had anxiously been waiting for. Hannah had gone into labour. Neville had barely gotten her settled down in his rooms before her contractions had started.
As soon as Hermione was done catching up, she and Kingsley got right back to their planning. An assistant brought them a pot of tea. An Auror brought her a plate of chocolate brownies. He took the job very seriously and only shook his head gruffly when she offered him one.
By then, most of the Ministerial Department Heads had arrived in the office. Kingsley laid the whole thing out in front of them. They were incredulous at first, but she supposed it was incredible news. She had to explain how the Joy Stone worked a few times before they understood it. They didn't seem to believe that such a difficult problem could be solved so easily. Hermione replied, wryly, that in her experience, many problems had simple solutions.
Once the Department Heads had gotten over the shock, there were endless details to be hammered out. Having the capacity to kill dementors was one thing, but executing it effectively was another.
And there were serious problems. How would they ensure that everyone got theirs at the same time, so there wasn't a panic? If they waited until there was enough for the whole wizarding population of England, how many people might die in the meantime? How were they going to stop children from taking them off? How were they going to stop children from choking on them, for that matter?
Hours later, the meeting was wrapping up when Kingsley's assistant came in and informed her that a suite had been found for her. The assistant gave her a detailed list of instructions on how to get there, and once she was there, how to get in.
Hermione knew an opportunity to leave when she saw one. Some of the Department Heads were starting to give her fawning looks; the exact kind she didn't like. She made her excuses, Kingsley covered for her flawlessly, and she left, fully intending to sequester herself in her new quarters for the remainder of the day.
Waiting outside the door was Lucius Malfoy.
He wasn't alone. Lucius stood talking with a group of half a dozen or so witches and wizards, a couple of whom she recognised, but most she didn't. Judging by the way they held themselves and their mode of dress, they were all either extremely important or at least thought they were.
Lucius bid them a polite but firm farewell and fell into step beside her.
"Hermione." He said, as a greeting. "How was your meeting with the Minister?"
He hadn't just been in that hallway by coincidence. He had been waiting for her to come out. "Not bad." She said, happy for him to work for it.
Up the stairs, past the unicorn statue, turn left… Hermione recited the directions to herself as they went, and Lucius kept pace with her.
"Lucius, you should still be in bed."
He huffed, and sent her an amused glance. "I assure you, if my recovery wasn't complete, Madame Pomfrey would never have let me out of her sight. That woman guards her patients like a dragon guards her eggs. Now, don't distract me. Am I to assume, then, that you gave away that creation of yours? That priceless solution to all our problems?"
"Actually, I did. Everyone has the right to be safe from dementors. I bet you think I should have sold it to the highest bidder?"
"Of course not. It is slow going, Hermione Granger, but I am starting to understand you. You truly are remarkable."
She stopped dead in her tracks and turned to face him. She didn't know what to say to that. More than anyone else she had ever known, Lucius Malfoy had a way of being so honest that it took her completely off guard.
"I thought you were amazing, back in the Forest." She said, not giving herself a chance not to say the words aloud. They needed to be said. What he had done was heroism. He had saved their lives.
Hermione had hoped that, with their victory in the War, she would never need that sort of bravery again. She'd never been drawn to adventure in the way that some of her friends had been. A life of academic excellence, preferably coupled with a thriving career, would have been enough for her. But when danger had come, he'd been right there with her.
She could never forget that.
Lucius only snorted. "Indeed. The greatest deed of my life, and I can hardly remember a thing."
"You saved my life." Hermione said. "I wouldn't have been able to hold them all off if you hadn't used the Stone the way you had. I would never have thought of giving into it like that."
"Do you think so? As I recall, you put yourself at risk to give me the Stone. Deliberately sacrificed yourself for me, one might say."
He said that as if it had come as a surprise to him.
She tried. Her breath was short and sharp in her chest, but she refused to be a coward.
She could hardly look him in the eye. "There's no need to be so dramatic, Lucius." She tried to laugh; the sound was brassy and hollow. "I had no intentions of sacrificing myself. Our odds of survival went up if we fought together, that's all. You're a great wizard. Helping you survive was a tactical necessity."
Oh dear. Had that made any sense at all? So… cold. That hadn't been how she meant it. All she wanted to do was help him understand. She had to let him know how special he was. She had to try to show Lucius the Lucius she saw.
Lucius had stopped walking to look her full in the face. He didn't seem angry. Or upset. He seemed… thoughtful. Almost… excited? As if he was on the verge of understanding something immeasurably complex.
They took one another in for a while. Hermione felt something very important begin to dawn on her.
Lucius Malfoy was not her friend.
Ginny and Harry were her friends. Tiberius and Wilhemina were her friends. And then there was him. Lucius Malfoy was something other. Not an enemy, not a friend, certainly not family. An ally? Certainly. But he was more than that, wasn't he?
She had no idea when it had started. How long had she been setting him apart? He was… special. An unknown factor in her life. Someone she had begun to seek out, to trust as she had never trusted anyone.
Knowing that, how did it make her feel? Daunted? Excited? Very, very nervous?
All three at once.
She wasn't going to get carried away, though. After what they had just been through, she just wasn't in any sort of position to make any long term decisions. She had almost died. She didn't need to get swept up in her emotions. What she really needed was to have a long, calm think about a few things.
"Well, well, well." Lucius said. His lips curved in the beginnings of a smile. Reptilian, and yet warm. How did he do that? "Isn't this interesting?"
Hermione decided that she didn't like his knowing expression very much. Just because there was a chance that he might be right, didn't mean he got to gloat about it like that.
"You've been called by the Ministry to work on brewing up the Peace Potions and the Tinctured Joy, haven't you?" Hermione asked, forcing her thoughts onto safer paths. For now.
"Of course. As has every British potioneer capable of brewing so much as a salve for sunburn."
"Well, that means I'm in charge of you. Get back to work."
Hermione watched him as she said it, hoping to gauge his reaction. A small part of her, which was maybe a little bit frightened of the immensity of what she'd just realised, had been hoping that he might pull away from her. She was disappointed to see that he only looked at her in a way that was both warm and affectionate.
She brandished her scowl at him and he retreated, laughing.
He might well laugh. Hermione knew that she had crossed a boundary she could not turn back from.
The only question left was what she was to do about it.
The aurors squinted at her and Hermione stared at them, unblinking.
"Password." One of them said, and she scoffed.
"Password." He said again. His hand went for his wand. Apparently he was serious. Hermione had thought the whole thing was a joke, but apparently Kingsley had been telling the truth. She supposed she should have seen it coming. She heard Moody's constant refrain, vigilance, vigilance, vigilance! in her head, and smiled fondly. It was nice to know that Kingsley hadn't forgotten his old Order days.
"Snorlac." She said, and the two aurors stepped aside, letting her into her Ministry office.
The room was easily twice as big as a Department Head would normally be expected to have. Bookshelves lined the walls. A cursory scan showed that all the books were related to dementors, the banishing of non-corporeal beings, or wizarding medicine. A large desk of fine wood and a tall chair sat in front of a wide window of an illusory landscape, letting in sunlight she knew was not real. Aside from a quill and a stack of parchment, the desk was bare.
The room was very cold. Not in terms of temperature, but everything else about it. There were none of the personal touches or ornaments that would soften such a place, and their absence only accentuated the great yawning space of the room. It reminded her uncomfortably of her parent's waiting room. Except where her parents had made some effort to put their patients at ease, everything here was a calculated show of power, designed to intimidate. Did Shacklebolt have so little faith in her ability to lead, or was this his attempt at giving her a compliment?
If it was, it was a failure.
It also felt distinctly like a prison. She wasn't an idiot. She noticed how these rooms happened to be extremely close to the Auror department, right at the end of a maze-like series of twists and turns. Logically, having her in such a defensible position made perfect sense. Emotionally, though, it was stifling. Painfully claustrophobic.
Hermione missed her office at Hogwarts already. She decided to ask Grubbly-Plank to look after Crookshanks while she was away. She had planned to go back to collect him, but she knew he wouldn't like it here. Atlas was a different story, though. The snobby bird would probably love it. It would suit his sense of self-importance. Sadly, if Crookshanks wasn't coming, it would probably be best for the owl to remain where he was.
The office had several rooms adjoining to it. Hermione's old habits came to the fore and she investigated. One door led to a room with a stout work-table. At either end of the table was a large barrel. A quick check revealed that they were filled with water. Heavy aprons and dragonhide gloves hung up on the walls next to a very detailed array of charts. On the far side of the room was a row of cupboards filled with all sorts of spellmaking paraphernalia and potion ingredients. Hermione gave a satisfied nod. A perfectly appointed Charms workshop.
Along the right side of the office there was a little passageway that led to a bedroom. A gorgeous four-poster bed dominated most of the space. The duvet was crimson threaded with gold. There was a stone fireplace and an old oak wardrobe. Aside from that, the room was empty. Evidently, they expected her to fall right into bed after working. They were probably right.
This would do. Whether it suited her tastes or not, she wasn't here to have fun. She was here to work. Kingsley had been nice about it, and he and the rest of the Department Heads had gone out of their way to flatter and praise her, but she knew this for what it was. She wasn't a guest; she was a worker. A resource.
What Hermione wanted was no longer a priority. She had important work to be doing.
As it turned out, being in charge of Joy Stone production was strange work indeed.
Kingsley had been sincere when he'd told her that she could pick her own team. Hermione had written to just about every skilled Charms witch and wizard in Britain that she thought might come. Hermione was shocked, and very, very pleased, to receive confirmation from all of them within a few hours.
Most importantly of all, perhaps, was the fact that Flitwick could make it. He'd come first. By sheer dumb luck, he'd already been in London.
Hermione scheduled her first meeting of the Emergency Ministerial Charms Department for later that morning. Flitwick had wanted to get into it straight away, but she'd insisted on at least catching up over a cup of tea first.
She was glad that she had. Flitwick was guilt stricken over their failure with the barrier. He was also determined to 'make up for it' by helping her fine-tune the Joy Stone. He listened to what Lucius had accomplished with bemused pride.
"A strange boy, that one." Flitwick said. "I taught him and worked with him at Hogwarts, but I never quite understood him. Has he explained how he was able to do what he did? Your Joy Stone is a wonderful invention, Hermione, I couldn't be prouder, but it shouldn't have been able to kill dementors."
Beaming at his praise, Hermione shook her head. "He doesn't remember a thing."
The little old wizard sighed. "So he says. Do you believe him?"
"I do, actually." Hermione said.
The little wizard seemed surprised, but nodded. "Well, if you're sure." They filled up the rest of the time with talk of the Joy Stone until everyone else started trickling in.
Tiberius was right on time, of course. He was unique amongst those she'd invited in because he wasn't much of a Charms wizard, but his abilities and experience as an inventor made him an obvious choice. She only hoped that she could focus his incredible gifts on the subject of the Joy Stone.
He shook hands with her as he came into the room.
"Have you seen Lucius?" He asked worriedly. "He left the Infirmary as soon as Pomfrey gave him leave. Terribly dangerous, in no fit state to cast a Patronus-"
That was exactly the sort of talk Hermione didn't need to hear right now. She shushed Tiberius, assured him that she was fine and that Lucius could handle himself, and ushered him to the chair by her side.
Next came Brian Wu. As Head of the British Duelling team, his presence had been one of the ones Hermione had been most anxious to secure. He came with Padma and Parvarti in tow; a welcome addition.
Shortly after, Anthea Dawlish, ostensibly the owner of the Diagon Alley magical supply shop 'Charmed, Actually'. Her Charms knowledge was exceptional, of course. Unofficially, Anthea was also known for her remarkable ability to procure rare, even illegal, items in a short space of time. Hermione had a feeling that she would come in handy.
There were others. Aurors whom Head Auror Robards had kindly agreed to spare. Hogwarts graduates from years past who had particularly excelled at Charms. All in all, three dozen witches and wizards. Together, they'd have to find a way to make the Joy Stone viable for mass production. Hermione fully intended to have a Joy Stone in the hands of every person alive by the time this was done.
She would leave organising the finer details of distribution and funding to Kingsley. All she had to do was make it possible in the first place. They couldn't have people rolling around on the ground, insensible from close proximity to the Stone.
Starting to grow impatient… Hermione tapped the table. Where were they? The meeting was about to start, and two people were still missing.
"Sorry I'm late!" A tall, imposing woman in robes said as she bustled into the room, taking her seat.
Violetta Heartstring, Chief Librarian at the Ministry. She represented perhaps the broadest array of magical knowledge in Britain. It was practically impossible to tear her away from her books, and in hindsight Hermione had to admit that it wasn't a surprise that she was late.
George Weasley arrived before the door had even swung shut behind her. Hermione rolled her eyes at his top hat and vest-watch, but still rose to embrace him.
"Morning, everyone." George said, kissing her on the cheek. "Thanks for inviting me. Bloody brilliant work killing those dementors, Hermione."
Smiling, she said, "Let's see if we can finish the job, shall we?"
"I fail to see why he is here." Anthea sniffed. The fact that he'd stolen half her customers probably had something to do with that.
Before Hermione could say a word, Brian Wu, head of the British Duelling Team said, "I've seen those inventions of yours, Mr Weasley. Clever work."
"Well, now that we're all here, I want to thank you all for coming." Hermione said. Everyone quietened down at once. God, she hated things like this. Pretend it's like a class. Only these students are more like co-workers, and most of them are also much older than you. "You were all briefed before you came here, I believe, about the potential of the Joy Stone?"
She floated a set of binders to all of them. They flipped through the packets at varying rates of speed. She gave them a minute to absorb surface knowledge before continuing. They would have plenty of time to study later.
"As far as I can tell, the reason the Joy Stone worked differently for Lucius is because he didn't try to resist it's effects at all. Almost as soon as he held it, the Stone started shining, which definitely isn't normal. I can only assume that the amount of happiness the Stone could generate was compounded by his reaction to it, until it reached a point where it could kill dementors."
Tiberius was doodling on his pages. Hermione almost said something, then saw that it wasn't doodles at all. It was arithmancy. But what was he trying to predict? Possible outcomes of using different charms? It was impossible to say without hovering over his shoulder, but Hermione made a mental note to ask him later.
She saw the others were doing similar things. Padma and Parvarti were whispering very quietly to one another, pointing at different sections of the papers in front of them. Anthea was looking thoughtful as she read the section on the physical makeup of the stone.
Hermione's cheeks grew warm with pride. This could work.
George had flipped to the last page and was frowning. She could guess why. There, she'd laid out the problems with the Joy Stone in meticulous detail.
"I'm sure you've also heard about it's… deficiencies. As you can see, I've had some ideas as to how we could replicate what Lucius did, but without the dangers. If you'll all turn to the last page…? Thank you. Now, I want your honest opinions. This is too important to get wrong..."
Less than twenty-four hours later, Hermione presented Kingsley with her revised schematic and user instructions for the Joy Stone. He approved it, and informed her that a massive section of the Ministry budget and resources were going straight to her project. As an inventor, she felt overwhelmingly proud, but on a personal level, Hermione was nervous. She had made many creations, but nothing on this scale before. It was a daunting prospect.
Her final, most important request, was much harder to get approved. Hermione wanted to make a Joy Stone under the new specifications and test it on a dementor herself.
Kingsley really dug in his heels over that one.
"But how do we know it works if I can't test it?" Hermione asked, insistent.
"I completely agree that it needs to be tested. But not by you, Hermione. You are far too important to risk."
"Kingsley, I need to be there, whether it works or fails. It happened so quickly. This time, I need to be sure I understand what happens."
They argued this way for about half an hour until Kingsley finally threw his hands up in the air and saw reason.
Hermione went into the streets of London the next morning.
She didn't go alone. Following at a suitable distance were a team of Aurors, including Harry himself. They watched the area around her like hawks.
Hermione held the Joy Stone in her pocket. It was behaving itself, thank Merlin. Hermione reached her destination; a rundown muggle hospice, sat down on the steps, and waited.
She might as well have remained standing. A swarm of dementors descended upon her before she'd taken off her gloves. Keeping her breath slow and even, she lifted up the Stone.
The Joy Stone began to sing, and the dementors died. As before, they left no trace behind. Hermione felt nothing more than a perfectly acceptable amount of relief, happiness, and pride, given the situation.
The Aurors stared at her, flabbergasted. All except Harry who raced up to her, whooping and cheering.
He pulled her into a hug that squeezed the air right out of her. "I knew it! I knew you'd do it."
Hermione grinned. She knew she was still glowing, but it would fade soon. "Thanks, Harry."
And so, the Joy Stones went into mass production. It was tedious work, though not overly complex. She had been correct about the time; it only took about fifteen minutes to make one once they had everything ready. However, they were trying to supply all of wizarding Britain, which meant that their work was never truly over. One by one the Joy Stones piled up, until there were stacks on stacks of them.
They did this over and over, day after day, until Hermione was thoroughly sick of making Joy Stones. She had never thought she would grow tired of making one of her inventions.
The charms were only half of the process of Joy Stone creation, of course. For the rest, there was Lucius.
No-one actually appointed him the head of the Emergency Ministerial Potioneers, he just sort of assumed the position naturally. His proximity to Hermione might have had something to do with it. His title and bloodline, too. But while all of that certainly played its part, Hermione thought it might have come down to his new fame as the first wizard to have ever killed a dementor.
She would wake up every morning to letters reporting his progress. Estimates for that day's output of Peace Potion and Tinctured Joy. The occasional supply issue. Lucius was methodical and hardworking, and though her demands (Kingsley's demands, really) were frequently downright unreasonable, he did very well.
The letters weren't just about his quota, though. Lucius was having a great deal of trouble in managing the potioneers. Hermione knew she had been lucky there; Charms witches and wizards usually worked together quite well. Lucius likened it, on more than one occasion, to trying to herd cats. Many of the potioneers were exceptionally talented witches and wizards, and some were world-class, but they were nearly impossible to convince to work together. Lucius frequently complained that, if left alone for more than five minutes, they would brew a Peace Potion any other way than the way he had asked them to do it.
He would send her little samples, with notes attached.
To one flagon of peace potion; Here, Ismelda has done it again, twice as strong as regulations allow for, but I thought it might be useful in some of the great Joy-Stones I have heard talk of putting up in the muggle cities. Take care when you open it; the fumes alone could put a troll to sleep.
And on a little note attached to a cardboard box; It was good to see you this morning, frankly I fear that you were the only voice of reason during that whole blasted meeting. I must stress the warning I gave you yesterday; be sure to wear your dragonhide gloves when you open up today's shipment , otherwise I fear when I shall see you tomorrow you may still be laughing.
She had let the subject of her feelings for him lie. She just didn't know quite what to make of it, yet. She buried herself in work instead, but the matter was still there.
He never brought it up, and she got the distinct impression that he was leaving it up to her to decide where they would go from here.
Hermione sat at the Potter's dining room table. She waited patiently for Ginny to finish drawing their tea. When she did, she handed a cup to Hermione. The young inventor was surprised to see how… frazzled, Ginny looked. It was understandable given everything that was going on in the world, but it was rare for Ginny to appear so out of sorts.
Suddenly, Hermione realized that she was alone.
Hadn't the whole point been that they were all meant to be having dinner together? Where were Amelia and Harry?
"Where's Amelia?" Hermione asked, then immediately regretted how harsh she sounded. Ginny would never leave Amelia unattended.
"She's with Ron and Harry," Ginny said quietly, eyes on her tea. The implication was clear; both Ron and Harry could cast the Patronus. Amelia would be safe with them.
Ginny hesitated, and a tormented look came over her before she went on, "Hermione, I needed to talk to you in private. I wouldn't ask. But the Joy Stones… Harry says there aren't enough to go around yet, and we'll have to wait our turn. Help us."
"Help you… how?"
Ginny said nothing, but her eyes fell down to the table, and Hermione realised what she meant.
Ginny… Ginny was asking her to get a- no, Ginny was asking her to steal a Joy Stone.
In a situation with only unfair choices, the Ministry had chosen the one that seemed to be the least awful; the first Joy Stones had been assigned to important people. Not Purebloods or the wealthy, necessarily, but to people who were crucial to running the country during the crisis.
The muggle Prime Minister and his Cabinet had been the first to be given them, though they'd been pretty ungrateful about it. Shacklebolt and his Heads of Department were prioritised too, of course. Hermione had kept hers (once it had been upgraded to the current, side-effect free model, of course) and Lucius had been given one of his own, since he was crucial to the potioneering effort. Aurors got them, which only made sense, since they were the ones who would have to do most of the work confronting the dementors. Judges got them. Most of the staff at St Mungos had been given one, and the rest would be covered by the next batch.
It wasn't a perfect system. It was also the best that they could do.
Stealing at Joy Stone was, by Ministerial decree, an offence that would get you a lifetime sentence in Azkaban. The Ministry statement had been something like, 'Your chances of getting attacked by a Dementor are, at current rates, less likely than falling off a broom and breaking your leg. But if you steal a Joy Stone, you'll never see daylight again.'
Even so, people had tried it, and the Ministry had made good on their threat.
Ginny must have seen her reluctance, she waved her hands in a panic. "It wouldn't be for me. I can cast the patronus. It's Amelia, Hermione. I can't sleep at night. I need to know she'll be safe if something happens to me and Harry."
Hermione's heart twisted. She wanted to help. It was wrong, it was illegal, but she found that that didn't matter to her anywhere near as much as it should. This was her god-child they were talking about.
Even so, it just wasn't possible. She would be caught, and that would be the end of it.
"I can't do that, Ginny. The Joy Stones are Ministry property. They're all inventoried. I couldn't even give her mine, Ginny. They check on it every day."
Just as she said it, something stirred in the back of her mind. Yes, the Joy Stones were all inventoried, but what if she could make one without anyone knowing? Was it possible? All the ingredients and components for the Joy Stones were strictly controlled.
Hermione had a funny feeling she might know someone who would have their own private store of potions ingredients. Someone with the moral 'flexibility' required and the abilities to pull it off.
To attempt it in the Ministry would be idiocy. Too many prying eyes. When they were back at Hogwarts, though… There might be a way.
Ginny was stricken, but tried to force a smile. "Yeah, that's what Harry said. But I thought-"
The redhead went silent, and Hermione reached across the table to take her hand and give it a comforting squeeze. "I might have an idea. I'll let you know, okay? Keep your chin up, Ginny."
Ginny nodded her head gratefully. "Thank you, Hermione. I knew you would come through for us."
Harry leaned over his broom.
Looking down, he could see that about five thousand feet below them was the North American dementor breeding ground. The Ministry thought it might be the single largest concentration of dementors in the world. Their target.
For someone with excellent vision, which Harry certainly did not have, it would be possible to see the first eddies of dementor fog swirling beneath them. If they squinted.
Somewhere on his left, he heard a bit of nervous laughter as they passed through a low-hanging cloud. Cho, probably. It was her first time up this high. He gave the signal to form up.
Ten Aurors converged on him. Harry had chosen each one of them personally. They all had varying degrees of experience in the Auror department. Time spent as a proper Auror wasn't what mattered to him, though. In all honesty, while Aurors saw some horrible things, Harry didn't think anything could really prepare a person for this. What they shared was their dedication and bravery. Most important of all was their flying ability.
"Just like we did it in practice, everyone." Harry said in a soothing voice. "Joy Stones at the ready."
He needn't have bothered. They were all holding their Stones in their off-hand.
"We know what to do. In ten minutes, the main team will apparate right into the middle of them and start using their Joy Stones. That'll finish most of them, but some of the dementors will get away. That's where we come in. We swoop down and go for the ones trying to escape. Those of you who are cleared for mid-flight apparition can do it, but only if you're sure the dementor will get away otherwise. I don't want anyone taking any more risks than what we have to."
Everyone nodded. They understood.
Another minute dragged by.
Cormac looked down at the swirling mist below. "Feels almost cruel, doesn't it?"
"What they did to that muggle family in Dartford was cruel, McLaggen." Harry said. "This is just being careful."
Harry checked his team over. They were worried, but ready. They hadn't exactly had a lot of notice, but they'd trained as diligently as he ever could have hoped for.
He checked his wand, not that he'd need it, if all went well. His Joy Stone was already in his hand. He didn't need both hands to steer his broom anymore. His glasses were firmly stuck to his head with magic.
On his wrist, his watch vibrated. Once. Hearing the noise, his team's eyes were fixed on him. Twice. Harry held his breath.
Three times.
Harry muttered, "Here we go."
And dove.
As was often the case in innumerable powerful institutions all over the world, most of the work got done in the women's bathrooms.
Heads of Departments, under-secretaries, judges, Inquisitors, and numerous high officials were there. Some of them were just socialising, of course. Many of them were scheming. Hermione had it on good authority that a sort of unofficial Treasury meeting was being held in the sauna.
On a pool chair by the deep end, Hermione lounged in a modest bikini with a plate of sandwiches in her lap. It was practically impossible not to lounge in the Ministry baths. It was the sort of place where just breathing in the air seemed to revitalise you. After the few weeks she'd had, she needed it. She hadn't come here to work. She'd finally taken Kingsley's advice and come here to relax.
Being the Ministry, the 'bathrooms' in question were baths in the Roman sense. Great pools with tile and mosaic lined with marble columns, and spouts made of silver, enchanted for prosperity and good health.
There was one for men, one for women, and one that was mixed. Hermione preferred the one for women only, for obvious reasons. Seeing such important, venerable witches in their towels and swimsuits was already strange enough. She didn't want to see any elderly wizards so undressed.
Although… Seeing Lucius in swimming trunks wouldn't be so bad…
Hermione cut that thought right off.
Not so far away, a group of particularly prominent witches had gathered near the edge of the pool. Snatches of their conversation reached her, in between the general ambient sounds of splashing and laughter.
"-heard that Lucius Malfoy is getting an Order of Merlin? They'll give one to anyone, these days."
Hermione went cold, then very, very warm.
"I suppose he bribed his way in. How do you think all these Joy Stones got funded in the first place?"
"Isn't he running the show, though? As far as the potions go?"
"Please. He probably bribed his way into that position as well. It wouldn't surprise me in the slightest. He is a Malfoy, after all. Granger did all the work, he gets credit. Tale as old as time."
There was laughter at this. Hermione fought to keep her temper under control. She lost.
"Lucius did come up with it." She told them. Her tone brooked no argument, and they seemed a bit stunned by her reaction. "The Joy Stone could only hold them back, until he used it. He was the catalyst for what they are today. I was there. Are you calling me a liar?"
Inquisitor Beatrice wet her lips and said, "Professor. We only meant-"
Hermione didn't want to hear it. She wanted them out of her sight. "Everyone in this Ministry is working hard to help our country. Why don't you all find something better to do than gossip about the man who saved your lives?"
The shocked looks they gave her would have mollified her in any other situation. How dare they? They still didn't believe her, she knew. All she'd done was frighten them.
Hermione was so angry, so upset, that the note she scribbled to Lucius later that night was a disorganised ramble.
Lucius,
I don't know if you've heard what people are saying. They're trying to say that what you did with the Joy Stone was my idea. Lucius, I told Kingsley the truth, I told people about it today, but no-one is listening. They think you're making it up.
We should announce it publicly. Maybe get a meeting with the Prophet? We need to make them listen!
Hermione knew the hours Lucius kept. The hours that Kingsley (and her) deadlines forced him to keep. So she wasn't surprised when his reply came long after most people would have started getting ready for bed.
The letter was written on beautiful, textured parchment, and enclosed with his seal. He'd never done so on the rare occasions he'd written to her at Hogwarts, but she'd seen it often enough since working together at the Ministry to know it by sight. A dragon, and not the majestic, fantastical kind. This one was all lines and teeth.
Tearing it open, she read.
Hermione,
I forget how anathema gossip is to you. The rumours you are talking about were commonplace a week ago. There will be no convincing them now. Why would they believe something heroic of me when they could believe something ordinary for you?
It is my own fault, at least in part. I might have… exaggerated the size of the Dementor pack that we destroyed in the Forest.
Please do not concern yourself with this. What we have achieved is enough in itself.
She replied almost immediately with, We'll go to the Prophet and tell them the truth. The second this is all over. The last thing the wizarding world needs right now is a media circus.
His reply was short, and not long in coming. As you say.
Days later, Hermione was cleared to return to Hogwarts by Kingsley. They had reached the point in production where they no longer needed her there physically. Elated, she wasted no time in packing up her things. She made for Hogwarts with all speed. She had already missed weeks of term.
Once she had gotten her belongings back in her room, she made for the Great Hall. She didn't bother with unpacking, but she took the time to change her clothes.
Outside of the Great Hall she ran into Lucius, who appeared to have been waiting for her. He wore his usual dark robes, but on his breast he wore a heavy silver pin. It was in the shape of a roaring dragon, which clutched a white stone in its powerful hind claws. The stone was sheathed in glass and carved into a perfect sphere. His personal Joy Stone. She should have known that Lucius, of all people, would turn a necessity into a fashion statement.
She turned to go in, and he held her back with a gentle shake of his head.
"Hermione, allow this old man to impart one piece of wisdom." He said.
"And what's that?" She asked, thinking you're not old.
He offered her his arm with quiet grace. She took it.
His gaze took hers and held it. "Always make an entrance."
The doors opened. Hermione Granger and Lucius Malfoy stepped into the Great Hall.
Ear splitting applause. The children whooped and leapt up from their seats to clap for them, the older ones as well as the first years. She had never heard anything like it.
The pressure was overwhelming. Hundreds of eyes on her. She might have wilted, but for the voice in her ear saying, "So modest. You saved their lives. They are only paying you your due."
She wanted to say something to this, but they were already gliding forward.
At the far table, the staff were standing up. Tiberius was a little teary eyed, which was ridiculous, as he'd only seen her last week. Grubbly-Plank was smiling in quiet satisfaction. Hagrid was clapping his great hands with a sound like thunder. He was weeping for joy.
As they took their seats, a lull fell over the Hall. The students were watching her expectantly.
Without moving his lips, Lucius said, "I believe they are waiting for you, Hermione."
The way he said her name made her pulse quicken in her throat.
"Waiting for me-? To do what?" She whispered.
"Make a speech, I expect." He said, still not moving his lips. "That is generally what returning heroes do."
Hermione sent him a panicked look out of the corner of her eye, trying to communicate without words how utterly terrifying that idea was to her.
"Ah. Well, why not let me handle this, hm?"
She nodded imperceptibly, and before she could think better of it, Lucius stood up.
He proceeded to give a speech so thrilling, so moving, that Hermione didn't realise that she should probably be cross with him until he was almost done. Hermione knew he must have experience in this sort of thing. He had been involved with the Ministry, after all. But this was obviously not an off the cuff speech. He must have come here ready to make a scene.
He finished to thunderous applause.
Headmistress McGonagall said to them, under her breath, "I was going to welcome the two of you, but it would seem that Professor Malfoy felt the need to take matters into his own hands."
This reprimand was totally ignored by Lucius. The Malfoy sat in a state of perfect composure, but Hermione could feel how pleased he was. He was in his element.
She couldn't begrudge him for it. Given everything, it was the least that he deserved.
"I need to speak to you." Hermione said, under her breath. "Alone. Be in your office at eight o'clock."
He did not move, nor give any indication that he had heard her.
Smart. Subterfuge was his specialty, after all.
Lucius Malfoy… You are pretty cool.
Hermione slipped on her invisibility cloak.
She'd made this one herself, back in the months after the War. Harry's Invisibility Cloak had been incredibly useful to them in the fight against Voldemort, and making one of her own seemed imperative at the time. This would be the first time she had used it for anything other than an experiment.
It was just the right length for her with a deep hood and long sleeves. As well as the basics, she'd also charmed it to muffle her footsteps and resist basic Deshrouding spells, though it would never be as good as the Invisibility Cloak. It was properly registered with the Ministry, of course.
She went down the stairs and into the dungeons, praying that Peeves wouldn't find her and make things difficult. Fortunately, she saw no-one except Slytherins, and they were too busy celebrating to take notice of her.
Before long, she stood before the green door with its silver-dragon knocker. She gave it a rap.
Lucius opened the door and peered out into the corridor. He was dressed in black trousers and a white shirt, his hair tied into a loose ponytail.
Oddly, as he took in the empty corridor, he gave a nervous chuckle, and Hermione realised she hadn't taken off the cloak yet.
"Mr Rosier?" He called out. "You won't fool me. I know all about your little bet with the sixth years. You won't frighten me this time."
What? Had… had the students been pranking Lucius? And… was it working?
Very gently, Hermione said, "Lucius, it's me, Hermione."
Lucius jumped about a foot in the air and went deathly pale, only calming himself slightly as Hermione slowly took off the cloak, trying not to make any sudden moves.
"Hermione-! Merlin, woman, what do you think you're doing?"
Hermione stared suggestively at the doorway, saying nothing. Finally, he stepped aside to let her through.
The office was a mixture of dark woods and somber velvets. It was also about twice the size of her own, with a double fireplace, a vintage sofa and chairs with a long low table between them, and a drink cabinet. Like her, Lucius had a chalkboard, though his was covered with a sort of running tally of potions ingredients and student grades.
Over the fireplace hung a beautiful landscape painting. A pond in a forest clearing, with a table and chairs set for tea. It had the look of a magical portrait, but it was uninhabited.
Was this meant to be his office? It looked more like a parlour. It didn't look at all like the sort of place a person could actually get work done in. She supposed she should have expected that.
Hermione said, "I'm here, just as I said I would be."
Lucius just gave her a blank look, and she went further. "Remember? I told you I needed to talk to you tonight? In the Great Hall? After you made your speech?"
"Hermione, I assure you, this is entirely a pleasant surprise to me. I had no idea you were going to be coming."
Oh. Perhaps he hadn't heard her after all? She had assumed he had just been acting. The Great Hall had been pretty loud, and she had been trying to be subtle...
"Never mind." Lucius said, remembering his manners and taking the cloak from her to hang it by the door. "Let us have tea while we talk, at least."
He gestured for her to take the sofa while he sorted out the tea, laying it down between them
"I thought… well, I thought that if anyone would be able to help, it would be you."
"Why me?"
"Lucius." Hermione said in a no-nonsense tone. "I'd bet my Pensive that you have a secret stash of potion ingredients."
Lucius's gaze fell down to his cup, and he considered. Hermione waited, and held her breath.
"Hermione." He said carefully, his thumb brushing on the lid of his cup. "What you are asking is, under the new laws of this government, a very serious crime."
"Yes."
He opened his mouth, then closed and stood up. Without saying a word, he went over to his drinks cabinet. His back was to her, but she heard the sound of clinking, and then he returned with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.
He poured them both a couple fingers of whiskey. Hermione noted that it was the muggle kind, and gratefully accepted. She took a sip and found it surprisingly mild, with only a pleasant burn on the way down. Was that because she'd gotten used to Firewhisky, or had he chosen a gentler vintage?
Lucius took a slow sip, his grey eyes never leaving her face. "Hermione Granger," He said slowly, prompting a blush from her. Why did her full name sound so strange coming from him? "You must know I would help you with this regardless. But if you really want my help making this Joy Stone of yours, I would ask a favour in return…" He didn't finish the sentence.
In the space of his dramatic pause, Hermione supplied, "One for Draco and Scorpius? Done."
He seemed almost disappointed. "So easily? I know you and Draco have… history."
"He was a complete prat to me for years, yes."
Wisely, Lucius didn't contradict her. "Then why?"
"They're your family, Lucius. I know you'd do anything for them."
He leaned forward and clinked glasses with her.
"Then we have an agreement. Three Joy Stones, and we tell no-one."
That was pretty obvious, wasn't it? Hermione arched an eyebrow at him, and he stood.
"Are you sure?" She asked. She'd been hoping they would get started immediately, but hadn't wanted to ask. She didn't want to push him into doing this before he was ready.
Lucius smirked. "Why wait?"
The potions classroom was just as she'd remembered it from when they'd brewed the Ascension together.
As it turned out, Lucius already had enough Peace Potions ready, and they only had to make the Tinctured Joy.
It turned out that even without the light of the torches, the room was well lit. The stones and powders in the glass cabinets shone in their myriad of gentle lights, and the moon-disks and sun-lamps towards the back of the room were deceptively bright.
Lucius strode across the classroom and uncovered a great distiller with a flourish.
Hermione rolled her eyes, prompting a laugh from him. A wave of her wand filled it with water. The distiller was tall enough that Lucius had to stand at the top of a step-ladder to reach the opening at the top.
Tinctures were simple in their creation. This one didn't even take long to reach its full potency. But the ingredients list was long. Joy came in a thousand shapes and flavours, after all. A properly made Tinctured Joy captured as many of them as possible.
Hermione started passing the ingredients up to Lucius. Blossoms from a Singing Tree. A book that had never been read. A jar of laughter. Great armfuls of dandelions, daisies, and sunflowers. They had to be floated up, and Lucius absently sniffed them as he lowered them in.
She should be enjoying herself. She was working alongside Lucius, after all. He was an excellent partner. Instead, she felt only a growing dread. Every time she dwelled on what they were doing, it grew stronger.
About halfway through, Hermione realised that her hands were shaking. She almost dropped the bag of galleons as she handed it up to him.
Her frustration with herself was a physical thing. The harder she tried, the more difficult it became to concentrate. She had to keep checking the ingredients list; something she shouldn't have had to do. She knew this potion like the back of her hand… she'd brewed it herself for her own Joy Stone…
It was just so stupid. She had broken the law before. The robberies to keep them fed, during the War. Trespassing on private land multiple times, to keep them all sheltered. She had broken into Gringotts.
But… but she'd always put money on the counter when she'd stolen, hadn't she? And she'd done what she'd done because she'd had to do it. This wasn't for her own survival, nor even for a greater cause. Yes, she'd done this to protect Amelia, but even there, her motivations were ultimately selfish.
She loved her god-child more than she cared about doing the right thing. The thought of her coming to harm… Hermione would go to Azkaban until the day she died, if that meant she could keep Amelia safe.
Somehow, the knowledge only made her feel even worse.
Lucius noticed and quietly said, "Hermione, I could use another glass of whiskey. Would you mind-"
"No." She said. He was giving her an out. Trying to be kind. But for her to accept would be rank hypocrisy. This had been her idea. She couldn't let Lucius take on the whole burden by himself, just because her morality was getting in the way.
She redoubled her efforts, arranging the citrine goblet and the box of sweets neatly so she could be ready to pass them up to him.
"Hermione." Lucius said.
She lifted up her eyes and faced him.
"It's going to be alright." He looked down at her. His eyes were kind, his voice was soothing.
It set her at ease enough that she said, "I don't want to go to Azkaban."
"You won't go to Azkaban, Hermione." Lucius said, shaking his head as he sealed the distiller and climbed down the steps to stand before her. "Everyone knows that Kingsley wants you for his Senior Assistant. That will be hard, even for him, if you have a criminal record."
That wasn't very reassuring, but Hermione appreciated the effort nonetheless.
"Do you have the chalk and glass ready?"
She took them out of her jacket pocket. A minute or so later, they were charmed. All they needed now was the Tincture and the Peace Potion.
Hermione cracked an immense yawn, barely hiding it behind her elbow in time.
"Leave the rest to me." Lucius said. "It will be hours before the Tincture is ready. I won't have you waiting that long."
But… I wanted to talk to you.
Almost against her will, Hermione looked up at the distiller. A faint golden light was starting to coalesce at the top; unlike things with mass, joy always rose. By the time it was done, there'd be enough for at least six vials of Tinctured Joy.
They would only be using enough for three Joy Stones. What about the rest?
Hermione felt the guilt settle on her again. Her shoulders sagged under the weight of it. She knew the answer. They'd have to get rid of it; destroy the evidence.
"Go." Lucius said, giving her a gentle push. "I'll send you the Joy Stone in a few hours."
The next morning, Hermione awoke to cheers and the momentary discomfort of Atlas dropping her morning paper on her face.
Rubbing her eyes, she put on some decent clothes and went downstairs to investigate.
It didn't take long to get an explanation from one of the students racing by. The news had been released to the public. Everyone knew that the North American breeding ground had been broken. Did they realise what that meant?
Evidently, they at least had some idea. Students embraced one another in the halls. Laughter echoed everywhere. The relief was palpable.
This joy only increased at the news that classes had been cancelled for the day. A wise move on Minerva's part. The students would never have been able to get any work done anyway.
Hermione went back to her room and picked up the paper from where she'd left it on the desk. The headlines screamed; Harry Potter and his team of Aurors destroy dementor breeding grounds! Ministry experts say dementor threat on last legs! Read a harrowing first-hand account from shining star Auror, Cho Chang, on pages 3-8!
Hermione settled in to read with real delight.
How far we've all come.
A few hours later, an eagle owl flew in, bearing a small package between its claws. Atlas was furious, his feathers fluffing and ruffling, but let the bird leave once Hermione had removed the package from its leg.
Hermione didn't even have to open it. She knew what it was.
She delivered it in person. It was simply too dangerous to transport over Floo.
Ginny was ecstatic as she clipped the choker around little Amelia's neck. The Joy Stone was cleverly hidden by fabric, so it appeared as though the necklace was simply black silk with a matching black velvet centerpiece. No glass or chalk was visible. It was perfectly hidden, sewed in with the sort of expert precision that only magic could accomplish.
"Thank you, Hermione." There were tears in her eyes. It was evident that she really meant it.
"It wasn't just me."
Ginny looked at her oddly, though she continued to smile.
"What do you mean?"
Hermione decided she could trust Ginny. Besides, even if Ginny tried to expose Lucius' involvement, no one would ever believe that Lucius Malfoy risked life in Azkaban for Ginny Potter.
"Lucius helped me."
Ginny looked surprised. "He really has changed, hasn't he?" She mused, though she looked a little skeptical. "I've heard all sorts of interesting things about him."
"He has," Hermione said. "But I know that's hard to accept. The important thing is, Amelia is safe."
Ginny relaxed, and gave Amelia to Hermione to cuddle and squeeze.
The first Friday night after they returned to Hogwarts, she and Lucius went to the Head Club together.
They met at the base of the stairs.
She wore a tight black dress that covered her from her wrist, to her neck, to her toes. It clung. Around her neck she wore a loose red cloak pinned at the throat with a heavy-cut ruby. It was a strange new style, but one she liked. The modern cut of the dress reminded her of something she might see in muggle London.
She'd bought the outfit with the commission Shacklebolt had bullied her into taking for her work at the Ministry. At the time, she'd justified it by telling herself that looking good for the Head Club was important. It was sort of a work expense. Now she knew that she had bought it because she loved it, and because she hoped Lucius might like it.
It turned out, he did. He looked her up and down, not with a lecherous eye, but with something bordering on professional interest. She waited as he took it all in.
His face creased in a smile. "Hermione, you are magnificent."
He offered her his arm, and together they went to the Astronomy Tower. They took their time. The halls were empty, the night felt… deep. Perhaps it was because she had been gone from Hogwarts for months, but the castle felt particularly special tonight. As if it had been waiting for her to come home.
They reached the starry portrait and spoke the words together. "We are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided." And the door swung open.
They stepped in to the sound of cheers and streamers popping. Though it was only Tiberius and Grubbly-Plank, it turned out the two of them could make a lot of noise when they wanted. Hermione winced as confetti landed in her hair, then smiled as Lucius started fussing over it, picking it out for her.
Beaming, Tiberius explained, "We thought we would throw our own little celebration for you."
A celebration? Hermione had to stifle a grimace. She'd sort of been hoping for a quiet night. She hoped they hadn't gone overboard. Still, Lucius looked really touched, and how could she refuse Tiberius' shining, eager face and Wilhemina's gruff, gentle one?
It was strange that they were a group of only four, and yet somehow, when they were altogether it felt like a fellowship. Like Dumbledore's Army had felt. Hermione let herself be pulled into Wilhemina's embrace.
As soon as Grubbly-Plank released her, she started scolding Lucius, "... worried sick about you, you silly boy. Went up to the Infirmary to see you, but you were nowhere to be found."
"Remarkable, simply remarkable! I have mine already, you see-?" Tiberius said, excitedly.
Tiberius showed her his Joy Stone; oval shaped and lovingly worked into a ring. A heron- the symbol of House Flint, she vaguely remembered- had been embossed over the Joy-Stone in silver. The effect was strange, interesting, and not very attractive.
Grubbly-Plank had chosen something a little more practical, simply wearing it on a short silver chain around her neck.
"For the pair of you." Grubbly-Plank said, giving her a brightly wrapped present. Swaddled though it was in layers and layers of wrapping paper and sparkling ribbons, there was no concealing the tell-tale shape of a bottle of alcohol.
Merlin, protect me. Hermione's stomach twinged in protest. She knew they were only trying to be kind, but she'd barely recovered as it was. The night they'd gotten the London Joy Stone working, the Ministry had erupted into a department-wide bender. Kingsley had called it a 'soiree' to put a pretty face on it, but Hermione had never drank so much alcohol in her life, and by the time she'd woken up the next morning, half the office had still been going.
But it was a gift after all, and so she opened it, Lucius watching curiously over her shoulder. She struggled with the final layer of tissue paper and tore it open to reveal-
Hermione stared at it, totally at a loss for words. Then she started laughing.
Baileys. Tiberius and Wilhemina had gotten them a bottle of Baileys.
"Is it not suitable?" Tiberius asked, his brow furrowed with worry. "I researched it quite thoroughly, this is a beverage used for celebration amongst muggles. The health benefits, I thought, would be particularly useful to you."
Hermione gasped out, "It's just- it's just not what I expected. I really, really love it."
And she did. Aside from the fact that she had never, in her life, expected to be drinking Baileys with such distinguished people, it was a very welcome surprise. To the point that she wasn't about to tell Tiberius that there was nothing healthy about Baileys in the slightest.
"I don't recognise it. Is it champagne?" Lucius said, obviously a little put out that a present that was meant to be for the pair of them was something he didn't even recognise.
"Much better." Hermione promised. "You're going to love it."
Hermione conjured up a few glasses and made to pour them all some but Tiberius squawked until she relented and let him do it.
The others took tentative sips, perhaps fearing the burn of Firewhisky. Hermione knew better and drank the whole glass in one smooth, blissful draught. Tiberius, Wilhelmina, you beautiful, beautiful souls.
While Hermione sighed with pure pleasure, Grubbly-Plank was giving her own glass a disapproving frown. "Tiberius, I thought you said this was healthy."
Tiberius countered, "For two people who have come so close to the dementors I'd say it is. Alcoholic, liquid chocolate! What an incredible thing. I have half a mind to send Poppy a few bottles for the Infirmary."
She and Lucius exchanged mutually amused looks. She was pleased to see that he'd finished his, though he declined when she offered to pour him another. Did Lucius not like sweet things? She realised that she didn't know, and made a mental note to observe what he ate at meals more closely.
They had a drink or two, and settled into easy conversation. No-one seemed to want to get really drunk. For now, it was simply enough to be in one another's company.
Across the room, Lucius and Tiberius were catching up. It seemed that they had a great deal to catch up on; school gossip, mostly. How on Earth had those two become friends? She'd always assumed that they'd met at Hogwarts when Lucius had joined the staff over a year ago, but Hermione felt reasonably sure their friendship went further back than that. And yet, their age difference made it impossible that they could have been at Hogwarts together as students. Hermione made up her mind to ask them about it. Unfortunately, the two of them had just started delving into the more romantic sorts of school gossip, and Hermione knew they would probably be at it all evening.
Hermione listened to their conversation with half an ear even as she and Grubbly-Plank talked of more serious things. Naturally, the conversation turned to the subject that had virtually dominated Hermione's days and nights for weeks. The dementors.
"Their breeding grounds have all been broken. There's practically nowhere left they can go. What'll happen to them, do you think?" Hermione asked Grubbly-Plank.
The older witch gave her a steady, knowing look. "The dementors, you mean?" Hermione nodded. "Hard to say. No-one really knows for certain if human fear is a necessary requirement for them, or just…" Her expression soured while she tried to think of the right word. "Entertainment."
"But what do you think?" Hermione pressed. Magical creatures were Grubbly-Plank's speciality. If anyone knew, it would be her.
The Professor sat in silent thought for a little while. Hermione didn't rush her.
"They enjoy it, certainly." Grubbly-Plank said with an air of finality. "But it is a form of sustenance. Their dependence on Azkaban, I think, proves that. The way they keep pressing in areas they know the larger Joy Stones exist… it shows desperation."
Something about the idea of a dementor feeling desperate made Hermione feel very pleased with herself, all of a sudden.
"They're going to starve, aren't they?"
Grubbly-Plank nodded in agreement. "I think so, yes. If they could feed from non-human beings, they would have already."
Hermione felt a slow smile creep on her face. "Good."
Dimly, she heard Lucius saying, "Is she not a vision, Tiberius?"
There was no question that it was her that he was talking about. Honestly. She didn't mind him admiring her, in fact she quite liked it. She'd chosen her outfit with him in mind, after all. But would it kill him to do it a little quieter?
Tiberius said, "Naturally, but the shoes are the wrong choice. Given the style of the dress."
In a crosser tone than Hermione had ever heard Lucius use with Tiberius, he said, "What do you know about it? You, who I have seen wearing a bowler hat, and once in this very room?"
Tiberius made an indignant sound, and Hermione struggled not to turn her head and openly watch them argue. "I must say, I find it odd that you of all people would question my fondness for antiques."
"Tiberius, I am half convinced that muggles only started wearing those ridiculous things to see if we would be stupid enough to follow. You cannot convince me you think you look good in it."
Tiberius scoffed at this. "It is a statement piece, much like that cane of yours. I am a grown man. Perhaps my tastes-"
Lucius was having none of it. "And if I want an arithmantic prophecy deciphered, or a riddling clock invented, I shall come to you. But in matters of fashion, I trust you will rely on my judgement from now on. Hermione is breathtaking. Let's say no more about it."
A blush crept up her neck. She hoped the light from the fire hid it.
Well, what did you think? I really hope you enjoyed it. Finally, the Dementor mini-arc is complete. We are nearing the end of the first arc of the story. Exciting times.
Next chapter, which'll be released on the 23rd of December, is our lovely Christmas chapter. After that... we're having a New Years chapter!
Also... I have some exciting news... one of you lovely people is an artist, apparently? And I've commissioned them to draw a story thumbnail (not sure what the term is but you know what I mean, right?) for the fic! So please look forward to that as well! Thank you very much, Reddove, I really appreciate it!