Chapter Six
It was hardly the first time Harry had been in the Minister for Magic's office, but he couldn't deny it was the most uncomfortable meeting by far. He'd always liked Kingsley and thought he was the best Minister that at least he had ever known. The former auror was well-suited to the position. There was even a time when Harry would've considered them friends. Were they still?
Long months on the hunt changed Harry in ways he never would've expected. Was it the isolation? The fear that never truly left him? The anxiety that he was only one mistake away from death? There was no way he could've endured what he did unscathed. Expecting everyone else to change just because he had didn't make any sense. As far as he could tell, life went on as it always did while he was gone.
"The ceremony will be in the Atrium tomorrow at noon."
"Are you sure this is all necessary, Kings?"
"Of course it is! Harry, you single-handedly destroyed the dementors."
"No, I didn't. I had help. I wasn't alone."
He could feel that familiar anger bubbling up inside of him. Why was everyone always so quick to dismiss the invaluable help he received from his friends? He didn't destroy the dementors on his own. It was unfair to his team to ignore their contributions. History just continued to repeat itself.
"Yes, but you were the one who discovered how to kill them. They would still be out there if you never did. The only good thing about them still being alive is that bastard would…"
Kingsley stopped himself in the middle of his sentence with an embarrassed smile. Clearly there was something bothering the Minister. When Harry tried to ask, his question was waved off with an insincere laugh and smile that just a little too bright. Was there something he needed to be concerned about?
"I'm sure you are anxious to get home, Harry. We will meet again tomorrow."
After their final handshake Harry was glad to rush out of the office. While not necessarily anxious to go home, he did want out of the Ministry. For the immediate future he was still on a leave of absence from the Department of Mysteries. He wasn't sure when, or even if, he would be ready to return to work like a normal person.
The Atrium was full of the crush of officials trying to get to their offices. Worried at first that he would recognized, Harry kept his head down. He didn't relax until he was exiting the building. The thick facial hair he grew on his mission came in handy. It pleased him that no one recognized him. Of course he knew that wouldn't last forever. It would only be a matter of time before he was swarmed by well-wishers again.
Another night of fitful sleep left Hermione more exhausted when she woke up than she was when she crawled into bed. Without potions to help, she struggled to sleep more than an hour or two at a time. When was the last time she had a truly good night of sleep? It was too far back in the past to remember. She wondered if there was something physically wrong with her. Should she see a Healer? Likely they would just tell her not to work so much. She'd heard it all before.
The sound of one of the kitchen cupboards opening up was easily discernible in the quiet house. Barty was already awake and moving around. He didn't seem to sleep well either. Did he have nightmares? She couldn't blame him if he did after what he'd witnessed. Did he see dementors when he closed his eyes or did he remember what it was like to exist in a state of nothingness without his soul? She wanted to ask him what it was like to be Kissed, but that seemed far too personal a question. Everyone deserved privacy.
When she finally left her room, Hermione could smell breakfast again. She was surprised to find out Barty made enough for her as well. Was he always going to be so thoughtful or did he feel guilty?
"You even made toast?"
Somehow he managed to figure out how to use the toaster. It was impressive for a Pureblood wizard. Most wouldn't even bother to try. When she said so out loud, he seemed embarrassed.
"It wasn't difficult to learn how it worked, but don't look in the bin. I made a few mistakes."
His mention of the bin reminded her of the nasty things she said about him the night before. A nearly overwhelming wave of guilt washed over her. Just because she thought something didn't mean she should've said it out loud. Some thoughts were best left to herself if she wanted peace in her home. There was no way to tell how long Barty would be stuck in her guest bedroom. She had to make the most of it.
Breakfast was quiet, but oddly nice. There was something very comforting about just sitting with someone who didn't expect her to talk. Too few people were comfortable with silence. She couldn't deny that she was still curious to know what he was thinking. Was he still obsessing about their heated discussion the night before like she was? In an effort to make herself feel better about being so nasty, she decided she would do something kind.
"I'll show you how to use the television before I leave for work, if you want."
A bright smile lit up Barty's face. He seemed almost innocent, a bizarre word to describe him. There was nothing about him that was innocent, but he did remind her a great deal of Arthur Weasley when he started talking about plugs.
Barty was a quick study. After giving him a brief introduction to the basics, he eagerly began pressing all of the buttons on the remote control. She was especially thankful to have an excuse to leave when he discovered how to adjust the volume. So enthralled was he by the device, she was nearly certain he didn't notice her exit the front door.
She was relieved to find her shared office empty when she arrived. Maybe Blaise would be late that day. Was it wrong to hope so? Hermione didn't care if it was. Her fellow legal analyst could get on her nerves faster than anyone else. She wasn't in the mood to listen to his snarky jokes and disgusting innuendo. Nor did she really want to spend another day in the Archives. She had far too much to do to only focus on Barty's case even if it might mean she could get her house back all to herself.
As she began going through her stack of parchment, her mind wandered. Why did she struggle with keeping her focus where it needed to be? It seemed to be an issue that was only getting worse. She thought about how happy something as simple as the television made Barty. Was it wrong to wish she could find the same joy about anything? What was wrong with her?
"Good morning, Hermione."
Despite her best efforts to prevent it, Hermione sighed when Blaise greeted her. How awful and uncomfortable would the rest of the day be? She mentally prepared herself for the moment she knew she would lose her patience and need to storm out to calm down in the Archives.
"Good morning, Blaise."
No irritating remark came out of the wizard's mouth. Once he set his coffee down on top of the desk, he quietly removed his cloak to hang on its usual hook. He didn't even look in Hermione's direction when he sat down to begin shuffling through his own work. It wasn't like him to be so subdued. She was suspicious. A few minutes passed before she could finally take it no more.
"You're strangely quiet this morning, Blaise. Run out of cheeky comments or did you stay up too late with one of your cheap slags?"
Blaise looked up with a grin.
"Don't you know me well enough by now, love, to know the women I bring into my bed are never cheap?"
"I doubt that. I've seen you in the papers. They're not all up to your usual standards."
He didn't appear to be in the mood to verbally spar. Instead of replying with a cutting remark he was known for, Blaise just returned his attention to his work. It was obvious he didn't want to talk. That only made her even more suspicious. Most days she couldn't get him to shut up. Why was he so reserved?
"Something bothering you, Blaise? Mummy late with your allowance this month?"
He dropped his quill with a heavy sigh.
"I wasn't going to say anything to you, but if you keep insisting… Potter's back. I saw him this morning leaving the building. He was covered in a disgusting beard, but I recognized him."
"Oh."
It was her turn to become uncharacteristically quiet. Of course she knew it would only be a matter of time before Harry returned. His mission was over and nearly everyone wanted to celebrate. Would he be pleased to see her or was he still angry? Even as she worried he would never come back, deep down she knew he would. If she told him she was just scared, would he forgive her?
"I didn't want to mention it because I know he's a sore subject for you."
"That's ridiculous. I'm happy he's back. He's one of my dearest friends."
"Is he though?"
She hated that Blaise knew her so well. When did that happen? She supposed they did spend a lot of time together. It was bound to happen. Three years sitting at the desk next to hers gave him a surprisingly accurate insight into her life whether she liked it or not.
"Harry and I have a long history."
"Yes, that's all well-known, but do you have a future?"
Considering Blaise's rather blunt question was uncomfortable especially since she didn't really know. Did they? There wasn't an easy answer.
"There was a time I didn't have any doubts about our friendship, but now…"
She didn't want to say it out loud. That would make it too final, too real. Most likely Harry was a part of her past. Not all friendships were meant to last forever. It was naïve and childish to assume they would always be friends no matter what. Life didn't work that way. It was unpredictable and sometimes cruel. Once more she went against her better judgment to open up to Blaise about the fight they had. She never told anyone.
"Before Harry left on his grand adventure, we argued. It was the worst row we've ever had. I didn't want him to go. I told him that it was too dangerous and he could very easily get himself killed. I still believe I was right."
"Is it better to always be right or to have a friendship with someone you care about?"
She loathed how forthright he could be even if she thought she might need to hear it. That morning wasn't the first time she'd been asked that same question in her life. Perhaps her incessant need to be right wasn't one of her most attractive character traits.
"You're going to have to put your jealousy aside tomorrow for at least half an hour. The Minister will be honoring your old mate and his team during a ceremony we'll all be expected to attend."
"I'm not jealous of Harry. It's only…"
Blaise held up his hand to stop her before she could finish her thought.
"Lie to yourself all you want, but please do me the courtesy of admitting the truth. Of course you're envious of Potter. Anyone with half a brain knows I'm right."
He couldn't possibly be right, could he? She thought she'd been able to hide her feelings more effectively than that. Apparently not. Of course she knew it was bad and damaging to be envious, but she couldn't help it. Harry was always praised while she was usually ignored or condemned. If any mention was ever made of her in the newspaper it was either a nasty rumor or she was mocked for her work. The number of articles that ridiculed her when she was trying to free the house-elves was maddening. No matter how hard she worked, she was a joke. No one took her seriously.
"And honestly, love, I can't really blame you for being jealous. If I were in your same position, I think I would feel the same way."
She actually smiled at her obnoxious coworker and more than that, it was genuine. His validation that she wasn't completely irrational was encouraging. With a new understanding between them that she still wasn't entirely sure how to process, they went back to working mostly in silence. They only spoke when they had a question about work or needed a second opinion on a case. If every single day could be like that, Hermione thought she might be able to enjoy her job more.
Shortly after returning from a quick lunch in the Ministry canteen later that same day, there was a knock on their office door. Blaise didn't even look up when he called out to their visitor to enter. It wasn't uncommon for them to be interrupted at random times through the work day. Usually it meant more work for them.
A wizard they didn't know stepped inside carrying a bouquet of beautiful flowers. Hermione knew who they were from before she even opened the envelope. He didn't sign his name but she recognized Kingsley's handwriting.
Forgive me for being an arse?
Perhaps other women would've been charmed by the gesture, but Hermione was annoyed. Even just a few weeks earlier she would've been pleased. Something serious shifted between them since the whole Barty ordeal began. She didn't think it was possible for them to return to where they had been no matter how many bouquets he sent.
Blaise stared at her flowers but didn't say a word. It wasn't like him to keep his thoughts to himself. She was annoyed, especially since she could tell he really wanted to say something. What had gotten into him?
"What?"
"Nothing."
"I know you want to say something. Say it."
The wizard sighed as he laid down his quill. He used his empty hand to gesture to the flowers.
"You're better than that. You realize that, right?"
Whatever she thought he was going to say, she was wrong. Hermione didn't expect that at all. Unsure what he meant, she was confused. Blaise sighed again before continuing.
"You deserve flowers and romance, but that's not what that is. The Minister might have his good qualities and I won't deny he's been a good leader. He, however, is not worth your time and attention. Any wizard who won't proudly parade you out in public on his arm and can't even be bothered to deliver his own apology flowers is a worthless idiot who doesn't deserve you."
Was Blaise actually complimenting her? She was even more confused if that was possible. Had he ever done that before? She couldn't remember. Maybe when he was trying to talk her into doing something for him that he didn't want to do or that night they both had too much to drink and he invited her home.
"Now, don't get me wrong. I have absolutely nothing against tawdry affairs. They're usually a lot of fun, but they always have an expiration. date. They must have an expiration date or…"
"Or what?"
"I'm just saying that if you don't think you deserve to be more than just a midnight owl or a dirty little secret, you're wrong. You deserve to be loved, Hermione. Passionately and disgustingly loved. You deserve to have a wizard, or a witch if you'd rather, who not only can't keep their hands off you, but also can't keep their eyes off of you. You deserve to be the bright spot in someone's entire world."
She felt her eyes fill up with tears. When would she finally grow out of the urge to cry every time she got the least bit emotional? It was humiliating. She wiped at her eyes and tried to pretend she was perfectly all right.
"That sounds like a lot of pressure for one person."
Blaise smiled.
"Not if it's the right one. The Minister? It's not him. Not in this lifetime anyway."
Their conversation gave Hermione a lot to think about for the rest of the day. Usually Blaise's infrequent moments of wise insight left her frustrated and annoyed. Of course usually he weaponized his barbs for the maximum amount of emotional pain. For a reason she didn't understand and wasn't quite sure she could trust, he seemed genuine.
In her mind she knew she deserved more than she expected from potential love interests, Kingsley especially, but it was hard to make the rest of her believe it too. The kind of love Blaise described always seemed too far out of her reach or maybe not even real at all. Certainly she'd never experienced what it was like to be the "bright spot in someone's entire world". She wasn't even sure that the men she'd been in relationships with before even liked her all that much. Most of them just saw her as a convenience, someone to pass the time with until someone they liked better came along. How many years had come and gone since she last felt truly in love?
She wasn't happy with the scraps of attention and affection Kingsley threw her way. When it first started and she was still heartbroken from another failed relationship, it was a fun distraction. At the time she didn't want anything serious. Maybe Blaise was right about it going beyond its expiration date. She wasn't heartbroken any longer, just lonely. When she wasn't paying close attention, her needs and her desires evolved past her previous arrangement with Kingsley. It wasn't enough and as she didn't expect nor really even want that to change, she knew she had to move on.
A spell banished the offending flowers to the rubbish bin. Blaise didn't look up from the parchment he was scribbling on, but she didn't miss how his lips curled up into a pleased smile. At least one person out there agreed with her decision. It was enough to boost her confidence that she was doing what was right.
When Hermione stood in front of her home at the end of the long day, she was tired, exhausted. Just like she always was. She took a deep breath before she pushed open her door, unsure what she might find waiting for her inside.
Barty was on the sofa in the exact spot she left him in that morning. If she wasn't mistaken, he hadn't moved. The television wasn't as loud as it had been when she rushed out, but his full focus remained on the lights emanating from the box. She had to clear her throat loudly before he looked up, surprised to see her.
"You're home early."
"No, actually, I'm not."
He turned his head to look at the clock on the wall. Based on his wide eyes, he didn't realize how late it was. The chuckle that came out of Hermione surprised them both.
"Did you watch it all day?"
"Yes, I did. I never knew how fascinating Muggles were."
Hermione knew his remark wasn't intended as an insult. As a Pureblood from an old family, he lived a very insulated life. There wouldn't have been many opportunities for him to be around Muggles when he was young and impressionable. Even taking Muggle Studies wouldn't have helped him much. She was certain that had been the most boring class she ever had and it wasn't because she was Muggle-Born.
When Barty's attention was recaptured by the television, she went into the kitchen to make them both something to eat for dinner. He likely hadn't eaten since breakfast and if he had been kind enough to feed her that morning, it was the least she could do to be kind in return. His forced imprisonment in her house might be a little easier if they could get along. She wasn't much of a cook, but she knew how to make simple meals that were edible and filling.
Partly tempted to offer to let him eat dinner in front of the television when it was ready, Hermione decided not to allow that house rule to be broken. The Granger family never ate dinner anywhere other than the kitchen table or in the formal dining room if the special occasion warranted it. As an adult she continued that same tradition no matter how much it annoyed or frustrated her dining companions.
In the end she had to resort to stealing the remote control from his grasp with a summoning spell. Once the room was quiet again, he offered her an embarrassed smile. She wouldn't judge him for being sucked in. It was easy enough to do even for Muggles used to having a television in their home.
It was strange to find herself seated across the table from Barty again without wanting to strangle him with her bare hands, but it had been an odd day. No one appeared to be behaving as they normally did. She could be polite and courteous as long as he didn't make another disgusting remark like he did the day they were forced into each other's lives.
"Did you find a law that'll send me back to Azkaban?"
"Not today. Maybe tomorrow."
He returned to his meal with an amused smile. How could he find any humor whatsoever in his current predicament? Did he not understand how close he was to being thrown back into prison to rot the remainder of his days? And how no one would feel sorry for him if he was? He was a strange man.
"I didn't even have a chance to look into your case at all today. There are a lot of other cases ahead of yours."
"By all means, take your time. I'm in no rush for my one-way ticket back to Azkaban. There's far too much here I'd rather see and do. And…"
Barty held up a small piece of chicken with his fork.
"…I can promise you that I wouldn't eat so well in prison. The food there was ghastly and I can't imagine it's improved any since I escaped. This… is delicious."
"Thank you."
To her mortification, Hermione felt her cheeks flush with the compliment. No one ever complimented her cooking. It was too "boring" according to one ex-boyfriend and there was no way she could ever hope to be as good as Molly Weasley. Unfortunately, even though he never meant it with malice, Ron had a terrible habit of suggesting she get his mother's recipe for something she just made him. But she supposed who better to cook for than a man who hadn't eaten solid food in twelve years? Anything must've tasted better than what he was used to.
"What does a legal analyst do exactly?"
Yet again she was surprised over the course of that one meal. Just like no one ever told her she was a good cook, no one ever asked her what her job was like. No doubt it sounded uninteresting just from the title alone. She could understand why they felt that way. It wasn't all that exciting most of the time.
"I analyze the law. Most of my days are spent reading over contracts and briefs to make sure there aren't any mistakes or laws aren't being misused for something other than their intended purposes. Because we have to know so much about the law, my partner and I are often asked by members of the Wizengamot or other Ministry officials to interpret some archaic or convoluted laws to make it easier to understand."
"Do you enjoy your job?"
"Most of the time, but I find it fascinating when I have to go deep into the Ministry Archives to research."
"Some things never change."
Once more Hermione knew he didn't mean what he said as an insult, but she couldn't deny that it made her uncomfortable. Or maybe that had more to do with Barty's smile when he looked at her. She wanted to talk about something else.
"What did you learn today that you found most interesting?"
Her attempt to change the subject worked. He began telling her about everything he saw, stopping every few sentences to ask her a question about something he didn't understand. Animated and excited as he spoke, he almost seemed like another person. He was anxious to watch and learn more. Hermione worried she'd made a terrible mistake. Maybe she shouldn't have been so quick to show him how the television worked.