CHAPTER 7
May 28th 2001
Hermione Granger scribbled her quill against the long piece of parchment that was starting to roll at the tip of the page. The low hum of ministry workers walking past the witch's office started to irritate her with every click of their shoe against the glassed tiles. Feeling like her mind was overwhelmed, she threw the feathered pen onto the desk with a huff.
"This is ridiculous." She grumbled to herself before standing from her velvet chair and stormed out into the open planned work area.
Hermione slammed the door behind her, catching the attention of Astoria Greengrass, who was seated behind her circular desk, levitating papers to sort themselves in the most appropriate order.
Determination fierce in her eyes, Hermione marched over to the receptionist. "Astoria. Any word on the whereabouts of Mr Malfoy? We were supposed to have a meeting today in regards to our trip in Romania. If we must reschedule, I need to know."
Hermione was getting a little too good at lying through her teeth to get answers to unnecessary questions. But she couldn't help it, she needed to know.
"Not entirely, Miss Granger." The red lipped beauty baited, lowering her wand and leaning forward as if to share a secret.
Hermione followed suit, leaning over the desk to hear her better. "What do you know?"
"Minister Kingsley has been very tight-lipped on why Mr Malfoy has yet to return to work since your trip together, but I have heard down the grapevine that it is something to do with his father."
"Lucius?" Hermione heard the panic in her own voice. "What about him? He hasn't hurt Mr Malfoy has he?"
"Quite the opposite. My older sister, Daphne, is friends with Pansy Parkinson. She's very close with the Malfoys, and said that Draco has moved back into the Manor."
Hermione frowned. "Where was he living prior?"
"No one knows where exactly, but an apartment of some sort in London most likely."
"Did Daphne share anything as to why Mr Malfoy moved back to his family home?"
A curl on the beauty's red lips indicated she knew more than she was letting off, "I believe a reconciliation between Mr Malfoy and his father has occurred."
Hermione stood back up straight, away from the whispers of her receptionist. A frown burning into her forehead, matched with pursed lips and flared nostrils. Not a week ago, both her and Malfoy were being hunted by Lucius, it seemed very unlikely that a peace would have been made between the two.
"Thank you, Astoria." She gave a tight lipped smile. "If you hear of anything else, please let me know."
"Certainly, Miss Granger."
June 18th 2001
"What did the healer say?" Ron asked, standing from his seat in the white polished waiting room.
Hermione found her hands trembling as she held her arms across her chest, "Not pregnant."
The freckled wizard let out a breath he had been holding in, and hung his head to look at his feet. His shoulders limped in disappointment, despite the appointment being made out of caution.
"Right." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I guess that's a good thing, right?"
"Definitely." Hermione replied immediately. "Although, the uh-the healer said I should come back at a later time. She believes that there could be a few complications that she would like to take a closer look at."
"What type of complications?"
Hermione felt her bottom lip start to quiver as she looked into the glossy eyes of her fiance. An ache creeping up at the bridge of her nose. "I'm not sure."
Ron closed the small gap between them, wrapping his long arms around her smaller frame.
"It's gonna be fine, 'Mione. Let's not get worried, yeah? We're gonna be fine."
"How can you be so sure?" She breathed into his chest.
"Cause it's me and you. It'll work out, it has to."
July 9th 2001
"Enter!" Minister Kingsley called from the inside of his office.
Hermione pushed the door open, popping her head through the gap of the frame and the wood.
"Oh Miss Granger! Come in, come in." The dark skinned wizard chirped, standing from his seat to welcome her into his private work space.
Looking around the overly decorated room, Hermione admired all the wondrous works of art that were scattered across the tiled walls. Portraits and landscapes a like, all bursting with vibrant colours as they watched over the broad shouldered Minister.
"I apologise for visiting on such short notice, Minister." She took hesitant steps to the guest seat across from his desk.
"No trouble at all, please sit down."
"Thank you." She bowed awkwardly, sitting down as he did so.
"Now, whatever can I do for you?"
Hermione tried not to fidget with her skirt as she pondered on which well rehearsed question she would ask. "I was wondering if you had heard word of Mr Malfoy."
Good, straight to the point, no lingering agenda.
Kingsley sucked in a breath through his nose and slowly closed his eyes to open them up again. "Yes, I should have anticipated you would be curious of his absence."
"I beg your pardon?"
"You have a friendship with Mr Malfoy, do you not?"
"I would not necessarily call it a friendship, sir." A nervous laugh escaped her lips without permission.
Kingsley tilted his head ever so slightly, as if he were trying to analyse the witch sat across from him. Hermione found herself picking at her stockings, anxious as to what he thought of her.
"Draco is with his father." He informed her in his deep reassuring voice, although his answer was not as relieving as she had hoped.
"Is everything alright? Between Mr Malfoy and his father?"
"It appears that Lucius has fallen ill. Draco has returned home for the time being to help his mother."
The use of first names meant that Kingsley was speaking to her as a friend now, rather than an employee. Hermione took advantage of the vulnerability.
"Forgive me, Kingsley. But am I not wrong in saying that there was strife between Malfoy and his father? Why would he return home so easily if there were severed ties?"
"Draco merely sent an owl with word that he needed to return home due to Lucius falling ill. As to why, I do not know. I am afraid that is all the information I have."
Hermione soon flicked her nervousness off and started to feel slightly frustrated at the lack of communication from both parties. "Are you sure that nothing has happened to Malfoy? Why should we trust a silly letter? Surely the Ministry is obligated to find more reasons behind time off."
"It would be inappropriate at a time of illness to do so."
Kingsley's calm tone was not matching the level of concern that was overflowing within Hermione's mind. A rip in her stockings mirrored the rip in her patience.
"There has to be something else to it! Lucius could be hurting hi-"
"Hermione."
"What if he has gone off to live in the muggle world or-"
"Hermione."
"We can't just sit here and wait for him to return-"
"Miss Granger!"
The volume in the Minister's overbearing voice startled her. She bit the inside of her cheek to refrain herself from speaking any further.
"Hermione. Are you familiar with the term, blood is thicker than water?"
"Y-yes, sir." She trembled, still coming down from her high.
"Are you aware of what is thicker than blood?" He lifted a brow, leaning forward on his desk with his fingers intertwined.
"There are many substances thicker than blood, Minister."
Kingsley held up a hand to stop Hermione from going on an inevitable factual splur. "The only thing in the wizarding world that is thicker than blood… is Pureblood."
July 21st 2001
"Ron, you are not hearing what I am saying!" Hermione grew angry as he slammed his plate into the kitchen sink.
"I'm bloody well hearin' what you're saying 'Mione. Trust me, I'm hearin' it." He yelled, on the edge of completely losing his temper.
"You might be hearing me, Ronald, but you certainly are not understanding where I am coming from."
"Oh I know where you are coming from, that bloody ministry job of yours. That's all you do these days."
Hermione threw her hands in the air and clawed her hands, "It is my job!"
"No it's not!" He snarled back to, keeping his physical distance away from her. "You always do this, whatever you have your mind on consumes you and you make no room for anything else in your life."
"That is not true." Hermione lowered her voice, offended by his accusation.
"Really? When was the last time you watched me play a game?"
"You know I don't like Quidditch!"
"That shouldn' matter!" Ron's volume was getting alarmingly high. "You should wanna come see me. I'm your fiance for fucks sake. People care about seeing you at my games, not your stupid werewolf case."
As the words fell out of his mouth, Hermione knew Ron regretted them but he was just too stubborn to ever let go of his pride to take them back.
"If that is how you really feel." Her words started to come out more like hisses. "Then I think you should leave."
Ron clenched his fists together. "You know that isn't what I meant."
"Oh, trust me Ronald," She mocked him, "I know exactly what you meant."
Hermione held her shoulders back, tryin Ron grabbed his wand off the counter top and stormed off to the floo.
As he stood in the fireplace calling out to her one more time, Hermione kept her back to him. "You know, sometimes I wish we were back in Hogwarts. Even with the world endin', you still paid attention to me."
August 4th 2001
"This is a little much, don't you think?" Hermione asked, brushing the poofy skirt of the wedding dress she wore.
"What?!" Ginny barked, tossing her glass of champagne back onto the glass table beside her. "If there is ever a day to wear something 'a little much' it is most definitely your wedding day."
Hermione and her best girl friend, soon to be sister-in-law, had been trying on gowns in France for the day. Ginny had insisted that they abuse the donation that the Daily Prophet had given both her and Ron for their special day, in trade for full coverage of the entire ceremony and reception.
"I just don't know how I feel about the puffed sleeves." Hermione cringed, at her reflection in the mirror, but quickly switched to a sweet smile once she caught the glaring eye of the designer behind her.
"Puff are not for you." The overly tanned, fashionista witch yipped in an accent, clapping her hands and flicking her wand to unclip the pegs at Hermione's back. "We will try another."
"So what happened after that fight with Ron?" Ginny asked as Hermione stepped behind a curtain to change dresses.
"Which one?" She half laughed, stepping out of the poofy skirt and into a tight mermaid fit.
"The one about you not going to his Quidditch games."
Hermione sucked in, zipping up the gown at the side, watching her breasts appear bigger from the strapless fitted top. "Oh you mean the one where he called my work stupid?"
"That's the one."
"He came to my office a few days later with an apologetic puppy dog face and took me out to lunch."
"Did either of you actually apologise?" The judgement was very clear in the redhead's voice.
Hermione sighed, "No."
Throwing the curtain to the fitting room aside, she waddled out into the open room to stand in front of the mirror. An unrecognisable woman stared back at her.
"Thoughts?" Hermione tilted her head to the side, flicking her eyes to her friend behind her.
Ginny took another sip from her flute. "It's nice."
"You look stunning, dahling!" Exclaimed the designer whose name, Hermione had seemed to have forgotten. "Beautiful!"
"I just don't think it is me."
With a look of defeat, the tanned witch forced a smile to the fussy bride. "No matter, no matter. Try last one."
Ginny giggled as she watched her friend taking very small steps, trying not to trip, back behind the dressing curtain. In that moment, Hermione declared to never try a gown on with that cut ever again.
"Have you heard any more about the Malfoy situation?" The red-headed called out, followed by the pop of another champagne bottle being opened.
"Not a whisper." Hermione rolled her eyes privately, removing the old gown and pulling the new one on.
"You know, dating an Auror has its perks. I could always ask Harry to start looking deeper if you wanted."
The urge to say yes was very tempting, but Hermione knew that she would be crossing a line if she went any further than what she already had.
"Thanks Gin, but I think if Malfoy wanted to tell me where he was, he would." She lied, still paranoid that something bad had happened without her knowing.
"I have no idea how you are friends with that daft prat."
Lifting the straps to her final dress, Hermione smiled to herself at the thought of her missing colleague. "He's not as bad as everyone plays him out to be."
"Coming from the person who was sliced open in his family's drawing room."
"Exactly, so my opinion is most valid… Okay, ready?"
"Ready!" Both Ginny and the designer called out.
As Hermione drew the curtain and revealed her last look of the day. Both women stood from their seats and placed their hands across their hearts in unison.
"Oh, 'Mione. That's the one." Ginny gasped, skipping over to join her at the mirror.
"It is magnifique!" The designer clapped rapidly, ecstatic that there was a possibility that her gown would be chosen for the 'War Hero Wedding'.
Hermione took a deep breath in and out. The dress she wore was simple and silk, with a low back that had a feature of pearls that traced the lining of the material. Her thin sleeves sat perfectly against her shoulders, and led to a heart shaped cut along her chest, flowing down into a skirt that tucked her hips but flared at her knees.
It was the picture perfect wedding dress for a saint.
"You think this is the one?" Hermione asked, turning to see how nicely the low cut showed off her long locks and clean toned back.
"Ron is going to love it." Ginny squeezed her shoulders, grinning from ear to ear.
Hermione gave a small smile back, but dropped it the moment her friend turned away. It was dawning on her just how terrifying marriage would be. Whether it was marriage in general, or marriage with Ron that scared her most she didn't know. But something in the eye of the witch staring back at her in the mirror told her she was about to find out.