After two weeks of lowkey activities and late night/early morning talks, Harry and Hermione cleaned out the beach bungalow. They apparated home and spent their last day off outside. Harry was inventing new spells. He laid out parchment scrolls and malleable clay(for runework) and covered the porch table. Hermione set up a hammock she'd bought while they were away and spent the morning swaying lazily and reading her favorite books. She did get up just before lunchtime to apparate to the muggle world and buy sandwiches, sodas, and a pizza for later that night.
Dobby, Harry's house-elf, appeared around three. Hermione got him his own picnic plate with a sandwich and his own cup filled with 'fizzy orange potion'. The cup conveniently matched Harry's. The little elf sat equally in between Harry and Hermione on a chair three times his size. He swung his little feet back and forth to feel the air on his feet and giggled every time he took a sip and his drink tickled the top of his mouth. It was clear he was beginning to warm up to Hermione, though Harry was the prime favorite. That was okay to Hermione though, because Hedwig hung around Hermione more than Harry. Harry glared at Hermione playfully every time Hedwig flew to perch on her shoulder. "That's my bird, and you're stealing her." He complained.
Hermione could only laugh.
They returned to work the following morning. Hermione was in a good mood. She and Harry had shaken hands and said goodbye to each other, they'd locked up their little house, and she'd showed up on the apparition level when it was relatively empty. Everything seemed to have gone back to normal. She said hello to Mafalda Hopkirk, who stared at her with an unreadable expression. No one met her eyes in the office. Hermione's good mood began to evaporate.
When she turned the knob to her office, she found someone had stuck a wad of chewed gum behind the knob. She used a spell to clean it off and entered with the express purpose of finding some hand sanitizer. Instead, she discovered someone had ripped into her office. Papers had been spread in disarray on the ground, ink splattered onto the carpet, and Harry Potter's/Her initials had been carved into her chair. HJP, HJP, HJP. It was nothing a few spells couldn't fix, of course, but it still shook her to the core.
Hogwarts curriculum needed upgrading, but Draco Malfoy was meddling. He had recently gotten married to Daphne Greengrass, so he hadn't been around to meddle in her work, but now he was making up for the lost time. Among the many things included in Draco's vision for Hogwarts was forbidding the grounds to half-breeds, introducing separate commons for the different blood types, and downsizing the library to make room for a second potions classroom. Of course, not all of his ideas were bigoted and useless. For example, there were a few rather helpful suggestions to make maps for the first years, move classrooms out of the dungeons, and introduce guidelines for how teachers were to behave(Hermione thought this likely stemmed from his hatred of Hagrid, the gameskeeper and Care of Magical Creatures Professor.)
All morning, no one came to her office except to drop papers outside the door. They refused to come in. At lunch, Hermione walked out to discover that everyone had left before her. The office was deserted. Hermione ate lunch alone by a dusty window where her only company was a little brown spider spinning the smallest of webs. She considered calling Harry. Really, really considered it. But in the end, she returned to her office and shuffled slowly through the budgeting for the school.
"We have a meeting today," Harry said as he put breakfast leftovers into the fridge.
"Nmmmhph?" Hermione asked as she wrestled her hair back. A teal pony-tail holder was clenched in her teeth.
"Yeah. Auror department stuff. Mafalda said she'd get into contact with you on it, so you should be tagging along to it."
"Ugh." Hermione groaned. Mafalda hadn't said more than ten words to her in the week since she'd been back, much less mention a meeting she needed to attend with her husband.
"Ronald Weasley will be there. You know Ron, right?" Harry asked. Hermione nodded as she checked her makeup in a compact and then handed him a comb, which he ran under the sink and began battling his hair down with. "I hear he got engaged to Lavender Brown," Harry muttered, studying his reflection in the kitchen window.
"Everyone's getting engaged." Hermione rolled her eyes. "But that was the goal, wasn't it?" Harry snorted and handed her the comb back, which she put in a side pocket of her briefcase.
"Got your notebook off of the side table," Harry said, snatching it off of the counter underneath the microwave. "You left it there last night after you finished working."
"Thanks." Hermione smiled, taking it back from him. "Your ID and your office keys are in your coat pocket; don't forget them."
"Thanks," Harry said, shuffling into the other room to grab his coat. Hermione filled her thermos cup with ice water and double-checked that she'd tucked her work papers into her briefcase and not left them somewhere else in the house. Harry reappeared with their coats and put hers around her shoulders. She thanked him distractedly and put her arms through the sleeves as Harry fastened a watch around his wrist and fumbled one-handedly in the fridge for a mid-work snack for later. Hermione dug into her pockets to see if she had a pen and felt something moist, cold, and acidic begin to immediately corrode at her hand. She screamed and yanked her hand out of her pocket to see it covered in a horrible pale green and yellow substance that was eating away at her skin and quickly turning red from the amount of blood pouring out of her hand.
Harry jumped into action and forced her over to the sink. Using a rag, he skimmed off the worst of it and hurried through the cupboards with a wild eye until he came to a neutralizing potion. He filled the sink with warm water and dropped the entire potion into it before he rolled up the sleeve of her hand carefully and and guided her hand to the sink. Hermione was so in shock and in so much pain she couldn't do much else other than stand there in surprise.
The slime neutralized and began to float off her skin in bits of dead, partially congealed ingredients. Harry pursed his lips as he examined it.
"Extract of tentacula." Hermione gasped. "Oh my gosh." She collapsed against the counter as Harry pulled her hand out of the yellowish water and examined it. Unfortunately, a great deal of damage had been dealt. Uneven patches of dead and corrupted skin were sagging off her hand and bits of her nails had been burnt away straight to the bed.
"Take off your coat," Harry commanded solemnly. Carefully, he and Hermione teamed up and carefully shrugged the fabric off of her. Harry let out the water in the sink and let Hermione sit her hand on a towel as he sorted through the cupboards to find anything that would help. Eventually, he set in front of Hermione a small arsenal of painkillers and instant healing potions and salves. He found some bandages in the hall cupboard and carefully began to wrap her hand up.
"Should I go to St. Mungo's?" Hermione gasped as she bit her lip to keep from crying. The cold air in the house was making her hand feel like it was being stabbed with needles.
Harry swallowed as he examined her hand. "I personally don't trust Mungo's." He whispered. "Too much corruption during the war." He spared a glare at her jacket and picked it up.
"Don't put your hand inside." Hermione cautioned needlessly. Harry turned the pocket inside out from the inside of the coat and a glob of yellow slime fell out. A muscle tensed in his neck.
"Why is this here?" He asked Hermione. "Were you bringing something home from work?"
Hermione shook her head. "No. It was probably the girls I work with. Since I got back, things have been a bit… chilly between us." She picked at the bandages around her hand and winced. Harry examined her with a stony glare.
"The women you work with would put a corrosive substance in your pocket?" He asked slowly. "Is this the first time this has happened?'
"It's the first time they tried to hurt me." Hermione sighed. "Before this, it was just daily vandalism."
"Vandalism," Harry repeated in a low, mean tone.
"It's fine." Hermione snapped. She took her coat back from him with her good hand and examined the other pocket. It, too, was full of slime. She sighed and stood up, walked to the trash can, and dropped the coat in. She brushed back past Harry and went to pull another coat from the closet down the hall. She carefully put her hands through the sleeve and then examined her hand. "Should I go to Mungo's or should I just go to work?" She asked. The wounds would prevent her from using her hand for a solid few weeks, but it was wrapped and the pain killers were quickly settling in.
Harry's jaw tightened and he looked away. "You should file a complaint." He hissed.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Uh-huh. And give the next person more incentive? Give someone else the opportunity to have yet another Potter Case to finish?"
"Potter case?" Harry asked, turning back around with a furrowed brow.
"Oh, yeah, you're quite famous among us ministry workers." Hermione rolled her eyes. "I can't count all the times I put in extra hours to fix things you didn't like." She began counting on the fingers on her one hand as she worked. "Ministry screening policies, News Restrictions Act, the Five revised Unspeakable Curses, Azkaban protocol, Marget's Magical Petitionary, all your countless tips on the electoral system and homeless catering and child protections and-" She stopped herself when she realized she was starting to babble. "I could go on." She said, turning and picking up her briefcase while carefully guarding her damaged hand.
Harry muttered something under his breath, but the blood was pounding so hard in Hermione's ears she couldn't hear what it was. "What?" She asked, turning around and straightening up.
Harry had one hand clutched around the edge of the countertop and the other hand balled into a fist at his side. His green eyes flashed as he straightened up, becoming even taller than Hermione cared to imagine him. "I asked for those policies because the Ministry used to screen my mail before sending it to me. The Daily Prophet used to print lies about the people I saw, the things I did, making it so I could never have any hobbies or acquaintances without them being slathered across the headlines. And Hermione, I was in a war! A war where I saw people die in front of my eyes! I watched people tortured, and saw the lights go out in their eyes! Why do you think I would request so many changes? So I'm sorry that your job was made hard by the very thing you're supposed to be doing in the first place. I'd gladly trade you places any day." He rolled the collar up on his coat and turned back towards the sink. "I'll do anything to make sure another Voldemort doesn't surface." He whispered.
Hermione felt a bit like she'd been slapped. She turned and walked stiffly to the coat closet for a new jacket, carefully trying to hide her surprise and fear. Because for a second, she'd seen something alight in Harry's eyes. Something dark and sacred and… angry. She pulled the jacket on around her corroded hand and the goosebumps lining her arms. Harry waited for her in the middle of the kitchen, with the water running in the sink in front of him. He carefully held his shaking hands under the stream and averted his eyes as she let her eyes flicker over him. A long, ugly scar was poking out under his hairline, above his collar. She'd never noticed it before.
He stood up straight as she picked up her briefcase and dried his hands off carefully. His face was devoid of any emotion. Like a soldier. A warrior.
He walked her to the porch and they apparated away separately to appear in the atrium of the ministry. Harry pressed a hand to her shoulder as they quickly shuffled through the hordes of people arriving for work. They left the safety of the crowd and suddenly, lightbulbs filled Hermione's eyes.
"Mr. Potter! Mr. Potter!" Reporters yelled as they crowded around them. Hermione clapped her hands over her ears as she and Harry hurried forward. "Mr. Potter!"
"Out of the way, please," Harry commanded. "We're going to be late."
The crowd followed them all the way down the hall, yelling questions about the war and where he'd been. Questions were, of course, directed at Hermione as well, most notably about what the bandages on her hand were about, but aside from Harry's ignored commands for silence, neither answered at all.
Across the atrium, the elevators were opening and shuffling the ministry workers to wherever they needed to go in the building. Harry and Hermione shuffled their way through the reporters, who began to yell with increasing volume and determination, and slipped inside the elevator. Harry turned only to close the gates manually behind them, and the elevator began to move away. He slumped his head against the bars as the sounds of the screaming reporters faded.
"You know, I don't think you have enough fans, Potter." A cool voice said from a corner of the crowded elevator. About twelve other people were readjusting themselves to make room for the two newcomers. Harry turned around as Hermione looked to see Draco Malfoy with his arm around Daphne Greengrass.
"Well, that makes one of us," Harry said shortly. "Hermione, are you going to keep doing that with your hands?"
Hermione realized her hands were still over her ears and quickly removed them. The sound became a lot clearer in the elevator. Draco snorted. "By God." He said. "Clearly someone's having their head wrung through. How have all those extra classes helped you out now, Granger?"
"They've been great, thank you," Hermione said in a tart manner. "Considering I'm a senior advisor and next in line for head of the reformation committee under Mafalda Hopkirk." Two or three people snorted in amusement as Draco's expression went dark, but everyone else made faces. Hermione heard someone whisper: "Hero benefits." She frowned. She'd worked perfectly hard all by herself, thank you.
The elevator doors opened and a great number of people got off, but Hermione and Harry were going to the Salle de Verre, which was on the top floor. Hermione leaned against one wall of the elevator as Harry stood rigid, a few feet of space in between them. Hermione examined Draco and Daphne. Her hair was curled and a diamond barrette held her hair back from her face, making for a very pretty hairstyle. She had more diamonds on her wrists, neck, and a large one on her finger. Daphne Malfoy, then.
The elevator came to another stop and this time, Harry and Hermione moved to leave. Unfortunately, Draco and Daphne followed, with Daphne's handbag swinging from her arm as she walked.
"Couldn't they have picked someone a bit more… appealing for Harry Potter?" Draco smirked. Daphne laughed as Hermione gripped her briefcase a bit tighter. Harry frowned at Draco.
"Couldn't they have picked someone a bit smarter for Draco Malfoy?" Hermione asked lightly as she stopped outside a meeting hall with a poster indicating they were meeting inside posted in front of it. She didn't let Draco know how much his words stung. She wasn't flashy; she wasn't pretty. So much in fact that her husband didn't even want her. But she was smart, and that was something even plastic surgery couldn't fix for Daphne or Draco.
Draco's eyes flashed. "Watch your step, mudblood." He whispered. "I can still pull strings in your little ministry."
"I can and will have you investigated for corruption and insubordination," Hermione warned with a roll of her eyes.
The room behind the doors was made of two-thirds glass and one-third carpet, which masked their footsteps as they walked. A large conference table sat in the center of the room, where several people were already sitting. One was the Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt. Several others were new people Hermione herself had approved for advancement in the Ministry to Head Positions of new and upcoming departments. Arthur Weasley, Head of Non-Magical Coordinations, sat a few chairs down from Kingsley. There was Albert Runcorn, who was a Deputy Head of the Wizengamont Administration Services, Miraphora Mina, who was Head of the Department of Magical Transportation, and Sage Bragnum, who was Head of the Improper Use of Magic Office since Mafalda had moved to the Ministerial Reform Department, where Hermione spent all of her days and hours, it seemed.
"Kingsley." Hermione smiled, shaking a hand with the dark-skinned man as she set her briefcase down in a chair with her name on a piece of paper in front of it. "It's good to see you again."
"Mrs. Potter." Kingsley smiled with a nod. "It's good to see you again." They shook hands and Hermione sat down. "What happened to your hand?" He asked.
Hermione grimaced as she rotated her hand. "A cruel joke." She sighed, hiding it under the table. Harry looked around and found his name nearer the center of the table, a good five or six seats from Hermione. He sat down as Kingsley stood beside her and walked to shake his hand.
"Let's get started!" Kingsley announced. "There's still a lot to do today before the ministry's back in business." He peered down, especially at Hermione. "I think some of us will enjoy being here today."