"They fired me."
Harry blinks at her. She's standing outside of his flat wearing only a jumper and jeans, her trainers barely tied, shivering. It's three in the morning.
He steps to the side. She slips past him as he's rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hands. His hastily put on glasses slip off his ears and skid on the wooden floor. He stoops to pick them up, tossing his wand on the sofa as he goes.
He slides his glasses back on and watches her blotchy face come in focus. She crosses her arms over her chest, grimacing.
"I'm sorry Hermione, I must still be out of it. It sounded like you said they fired you?"
Her lips pinch, she takes a deep breath through her nose and opens her mouth like she wants to say something, but all that lets out is a gasping sob. She presses her hand to her mouth and turns away, laying her other arm across her stomach.
Harry shakes his head, turns around to make sure his door is locked and then walks around the back of the sofa, taking Hermione by the elbow and sitting down. She follows him with less coordination, bouncing on the cushions for a second.
He places his forehead in his hands, leans his elbows on his knees. "Do you want me to go in and slap them with your Order of Merlin?"
She huffs. "That would be less than helpful, given the circumstances."
He drops one hand, rotating his head in his palm so he's looking at her. He raises his eyebrows.
She tries to roll her eyes, but doesn't quite sell it, her mouth quivering still. "Th-they say that I'm too radical and won't listen. I'm insubordinate and am using my fame and reputation to bully them all."
He sighs. "I wondered if they were going to take it out on you."
She leans back against the arm of his sofa. "Take what out on me?"
"The whole auror department has been calling me King Potter behind my back. Kilroy actually called me your majesty to my face on accident the other day. He turned red and ran away before I could say anything. It was pretty funny. Kind of. On a certain level, at least."
She smiles at him, a tired and worn one, but genuine. She leans forward a little, now slumped on the back cushions of the pale beige sofa. "That's just like you, you know?"
"What is? Taking being called your majesty with grace? What can I say? I'm a natural."
Her grin broadens before it drops slowly. "No. To try and blame my firing on yourself, somehow."
He shifts, not sure what to say. "I- I didn't mean to make it about myself-"
"No. No. That's not what I meant. It's just, you know, honestly, our known friendship probably didn't help with people's perception of me as a bulldozer, in a way. I mean. Just in that idea that people probably say things like, "Oh that Granger, she thinks she can get away with anything just because she helped out Harry Potter a little."
He snorts. "A little."
"But that's not the reason, Harry. It's not." She pauses, kicking off her shoes before tucking her feet under her bottom. She takes a deep breath. "Before coming here, after they fired me and escorted me out of the Ministry, I went home and took a nap. I woke up around ten, went out to an offy to buy my weight in wine and get absolutely sloshed, but as I was walking, I got to thinking. I just walked and walked-"
"You-You walked here?" He's aghast. It had to be at least ten miles between their flats.
She nods, waving her hand through the air dismissively. "My feet are dead, absolutely dead. It's terrible, my poor poor shoes. But that's not the point. All that walking gave me time to think. And I've reached a conclusion." She licks her lips, swallowing. "They're right. About everything."
He stares at her. "What do you mean?"
She shrugs, looking off to the side, crossing her arms in front of her stomach again. "To them, I am radical. And I don't listen to them because I don't like what they're saying. Because I don't listen, I don't do what they say. I'm pretty sure that's insubordinate. I hardly think I'm bullying them, really, but I wasn't thinking very clearly about the power dynamic. They think I rule the world because of my reputation, so my pushing for things must have seemed so heavy handed to them. And you know how pushy I am. I must have been suffocating."
She shrugs again, still not looking at him, blinking rapidly as she focuses on the floor. Harry reaches out, touching her arm. "Hey. You're being really hard on yourself. You can be pushy, sure, but someone would have to be willfully thinking badly of you to interpret it as bullying-"
"I don't want to live in the wizarding world anymore."
He blinks at her. "Whoa. Okay. Yeah. Maybe a good night's sleep is in order-"
She shakes her head. "I'm not saying I don't want to be a witch any more. But maybe it's time to let them eat themselves, you know?"
He moves his hand further down her arm, squeezing her hand for a second moving it back to his lap. "It's not that I think you're completely off the mark here. And I do want to hear what you have to say, what you're thinking, but tonight's not the night. Let's get a good night's sleep, have a nice breakfast. I'll fire call in and we can think about what to do next. Yeah?"
It's as though Hermione is a balloon that has had the last of her air let out. She sort of crumples into the sofa. "Yeah."
He stands up, takes Hermione's hands in his and pulls her into a standing position. Standing seems a strong word, as she's all slouch and odd angles, but he pulls her forward, guiding her to the guest bedroom. He sits her down on the bed, pulls out a couple of old pillows from the wardrobe, sniffs them, decides they are only a little musty. He places them behind her, leaves to grab a t-shirt and some shorts from his room, leaves them next to her on the bed. He puts his hands on her shoulders.
She looks so tired as she slowly moves her head up to look at him.
"Hermione… everything is going to be okay." He squeezes her shoulders before letting his hands drop. She nods once.
He lets out a sad sigh as he closes the door behind him, leaving her sitting there in the dark.
The next morning finds them slouched in wicker seats on the patio of a café. It's an unseasonably warm spring day, both of them wearing t-shirts and sweating a little. Hermione taps her fingers along the edge of the small glass table, frowning into the middle distance.
Harry smiles at the waitress as she drops off their omelets and leaves.
Hermione doesn't move, her eyes don't even come into focus. Her voice is soft. "I don't miss robes. I used to really like them. They're perfect for that awkward stage of life, you know, when you just want to hide your body. But as an adult they feel kind of absurd. What used to hide now seems… I don't know, too much? Like we're in play, trying to be witches and wizards rather than just being them."
Harry's chewing on his omelet, nodding, though he could really care less about robes. She sighs, reaching into her bag, pulling out a newspaper that shouldn't have fit in there with so much ease.
"Take a look. I already froze the pictures."
He puts his fork down, reaches out, unrolls the newspaper to see the awkward mid word expression of Kingsley's face. He gave a speech about improving relations with the European wizarding groups the day before. He glances down at the dry article, confused.
"No. Look further down towards the bottom." Hermione speaks around a mouthful of egg, her hand in front of her mouth.
He glances towards the bottom, sees a short article taking up the bottom eighth of the page. There's a small photo of Hermione with her arms crossed over her chest, her eyebrows furrowed.
"War Hero, Hermione Granger, Let Go of Position in the Ministry"
In surprising news, it appears that Hermione Granger, Order of Merlin, First Class, and War Hero has been removed from her position as an employee of the Ministry of Magic in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. The department had no official statement to give, but we received word from another employee in the department, who wishes to remain anonymous. "Look, it's not that we're not grateful for everything she did, really. She's smart as a whip, too. But she was - it's hard to explain. She just doesn't get it. She wanted to change too much all at once and wouldn't back down. So. You know, it was for the best that she goes elsewhere."
Miss Granger, best known for being a close companion of Harry Potter, is also a well known advocate for Muggle Born Rights and House Elf legislation reform. Reading between the lines, it seems that Miss Granger might have more radical leanings than the Ministry can support. What this means in a broader sense, if this is a weather vane for the future direction of Ministry politics, remains to be seen.
"It doesn't remain to be seen." Hermione is staring again into the middle distance, taking a sip of her espresso. "It's hardly the only showing of the direction the Ministry is going in. All said, it's just that I'm too radical for them." Her tone takes on a cutting edge to it. "You know, I know it's a lot to give Muggle-borns more support as they transition into the wizarding world. So then I know it's impossible to give muggle-born parents outside support and resources too. Even if it's what makes the most sense, it's just too, you know, nice to Muggle-borns. And they simply can't have that. No, it's too far a swing from the old anti-muggle-born stances. It's all, 'You know I support Muggle-borns, Miss Granger, but we can't go too far the other way, now, and give Muggle-borns more rights than others.'"
Hermione scoffs, places her tiny cup down too hard on the glass, causing a loud clack. Harry leans forward, stuffing the newspaper back into her bag. He puts his elbows against the table, his leg jumping in place. "So you want to give up? Just leave the wizarding world behind and let them go on thinking that their inbreeding is a proud mark of magic and that magical creatures deserve to be treated like shit?"
Her back straightens, she looks indignant. "Give up? Give up? Haven't I done enough? Wasted enough time? They can do what they want. That doesn't mean I'm giving up, it means it's not my job to fix it by myself."
He shakes his head, smiling. "If I thought for a second that you were actually capable of doing that, I would applaud your choice. But you can't."
Hermione sticks her chin out, her eyes flashing.
"Don't look at me like that. I've known you a long time, I know you better than anyone. You aren't going to be able to let it go. Do you honestly expect me to believe that you'll start, I don't know, a potions business or whatever, and just not listen to politics anymore, mind your own business? That whenever one of the old pure-bloods gets uppity and starts talking about how we need to have more individual protections against muggles again, for whatever drummed up reason, you aren't going to fight it? Let's not kid ourselves, Hermione. We're too similar for that."
Harry leans back in his chair, his hands on top of his hand. He lets out a long breath before leaning forward again. "Why do you think I deal with those twits everyday? Why do you think I sit through their endless drama? Because if I'm not there, who's going to say anything when an Auror gets too rough on a squib, or when they don't punish someone who just jinxed a muggle? We can't just let them do that, it's - it's not right."
Hermione clenches her fists on the table. "You've forgotten, Harry, that that's no longer an option for me, seeing as I was canned."
Harry shakes his head. "I could, at the DMLE -"
"No."
"But-"
"Absolutely not."
"It wouldn't be pulling strings, you're more than qualified, and the Magical Creature's Department said themselves it was a personality issue-"
"I don't want to work at that place any more. I don't." Her eyes are almost pleading.
He swallows, his shoulders dropping a little. "Fine. Okay. Fair. I half wish they'd fire me too." He's words get quieter, slide to a stop. He hadn't ever articulated that thought before, not even to himself. He swallows again. "But you'll think of something else, I know you will, some other project to back instead. Something worthwhile. They really gave you a blow and took you for granted, so it makes sense that you just want to tell everyone to choke, but give it some time, give yourself a break. You'll think of something."
Hermione's shoulders drop too. "Yeah. Maybe. But in the meantime, I need to make some money. I've saved enough for three months rent, but I don't want to depend on that. I guess I can get unemployment, that will buy me some time. I always have the Order of Merlin money stash, too." She starts eating her omelet again, her eyebrows furrowed.
"Yeah, definitely do that, they owe it to you. But just move in with me, save the rent. I know you've been saving that O.O.M. money, anyway." He takes another bite of his omelet too, almost finishing it off in a large bite. He talks with his mouth full. "Your lease is up soon, right?"
She smiles at him, shaking her head. "You can't just ask a girl to live with you."
He scoffs. "It's not like that."
They stand up and go inside to pay and then leave, turning the corner into a dark alleyway, and apparate into Harry's flat. "You know it's not like that."
She rolls her eyes. "Of course I know."
Harry lays back on the sofa with a huff. Hermione sits in the armchair across from him. He puts his feet up, rests his head in his hands against the arm of the sofa. "I always thought it was a bit silly, in a way. After you and Ron broke up. It just being us two, sitting in our respective dark flats by ourselves, a couple of lonely losers, scorned by the youngest of the Weasley family, staring at the wall as we eat our microwave spaghetti bolognese in silence. I mean, it still would have been like that, probably, but we could have done it together."
She laughs. "Is it being scorned by them if we still see them nearly every week and spend half our holidays with their family?"
He looks over at her. "I'm just painting a word picture."
She nods. "I suppose. I just kind of hoped someone else might eventually move in."
"Ah, to be young and still full of hope. I've let my romantic dreams drift off like a boat on fire into the sunset. A nice, respectful Viking sort of funeral, you know?"
She throws a small pillow on the chair at him, hitting him in the face with a tassel.
"Oi."
"I don't know if I am quite at a Viking funeral for my romantic dreams, but it does seem silly to hold out, especially as I'm not going to be focusing on romance anytime soon, as far as I can tell. And that flat is pretty expensive for one person and they are planning to up the rent if I renew… so, if you really don't mind -"
He sits up. "I wouldn't have offered if I did."
"Then, alright. Yeah. Why not? I'll chip in once I get a job -"
"You don't really need to-"
"And we can make a chore chart. I'll take on the lion's share while I'm just lying around in my robe, looking through want ads, but after I figure it out and get a job, we can reshuffle. I'll even cook-"
"There's really no need for that-"
"Hey, I've gotten better-"
"No."
"I thought you liked that roast I made last week?"
"I said it was the first edible one you've made, not that I liked it."
She looks a little wounded. Harry throws back the pillow, though much more gently. "This will be a good time to practise, I suppose. You'll be great before you know it."
Tucking the pillow into her arms in front of her stomach, she shrugs, still looking down.
"Oh Hermione, I didn't mean anything by it-"
She waves her hand through the air, dismissive. "Ignore me, I'm just all fragile from the whole being fired thing."
"You know it's not because you did a bad job, right? It's just politics."
She shakes her head, looking out the window. "I suppose it doesn't matter now. Anyway, when would you like me to move in and start leeching off of you?"
Harry grins. "You're really going to move in?"
"If you really don't mind, then yes."
"And I don't, so great. That'll be nice, you know, talking to a real person when I get home."
"You won't miss all that spaghetti eating and wall staring time?"
"Somehow, I think I won't."
She smiles at him. "Um, I guess, my lease is up next month, so-"
"Alright, that's neat and tidy then. You can move your stuff in whenever."
"Great." She stands, feeling odd, off center. She slaps her hands against her thighs once. "Alright then. I'll probably head on home and try to get more sleep. Then I'll start packing? Maybe, if this weekend is good, I could start bringing stuff?"
"Yeah, like I said, anytime." He stands up too, crossing his arms over his chest.
Hermione nods, pulls her wand out to leave, but Harry takes a deep breath, pausing her. "I really am looking forward to having you here. Being lonely losers together sounds, I guess, less, you know-"
"Lonely?"
"Yeah, and maybe a touch less loserly, even."
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves here."
"True."
"Harry?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm looking forward to it, too." Then she apparates away, leaving him grinning at the air.