I KNOW, I KNOW, I SUCK AT KEEPING PROMISES SO I'LL STOP MAKING THEM. I want to say that chapters will come more quickly, and I have a strong feeling this is true, but I don't want to promise anything again so... without further ado... Hermione chapter!
I also wanted to thank you a ton for your lovely reviews and words of encouragement! They truly mean the world to me.
The morning after graduation, she walked down the stairs in the Weasley's home with a hangover so painful it rivaled the pain of every curse she'd ever taken. Only to find the largest, most overwhelming pile of presents and letters from just about every single department in the Ministry of Magic. All of them were eager to recruit the newly graduated (and thus, employable) public figure, war hero, and celebrity that Hermione Granger had become after the WIzarding World began recognizing the trio's role in the war. It took the entirety of the Weasley family to sort through every gift and letter for Hermione to decide what her path in life was to be. And after days of pondering on the question and dealing with Harry and Ron persuading her to join them as Aurors, she finally made her choice. Thank-you cards were sent, bags were packed, and Hermione moved on before any Ministry officials could bother her for turning them down.
She'd ended up in a small cottage in the Scottish countryside, not too far away from Hogwarts. A remote, cozy little thing that she could only lament not finding earlier. It gave her space and time necessary to ponder on the unfamiliar feeling of now what? Hermione, as she was starting to realize, had never lived in a time where there was no plan set in motion, whether that was imposed by her parents, her professors, or out of necessity and survival. There were no deadlines, no exams, no worldwide threats to run from, and no goal to dedicate her time to. A complete abundance of nothingness that managed to plague her mind with the worst feelings of loneliness and uncertainty she'd had since those first few months in Hogwarts before she'd managed to make friends. Everyone she'd met, both in her year and the year below her who'd she'd eventually graduated with, seemed to have everything worked out and set in motion. Ginny was trying out for the Hollyhead Harpies impulsed by her glowing recommendations and pristine Quidditch record from her school years, Luna was writing for her father's paper (which had gained quite the following after the war, no doubt thanks to the growing distaste for the Daily Prophet and their poorly-written sensationalist lies), Neville was taking a Herbology internship with an old Hogwarts professor, Harry and Ron were decorated Aurors, even thick-headed Goyle had apparently gotten a job in Whizz Hard Books (though why anyone would let him anywhere near books was beyond her).
So why was she the only one left out?
It wasn't that she had no options - quite the contrary. Besides her limitless job opportunities from virtually every single wizarding department and establishment in Britain, there were also study and internship opportunities. Along with the ever-pressing problem of her fractured relationship with her parents. Despite gaining some of their memories back - which hadn't been easy, and there were many gaps that neither Hermione nor the Healers at Saint Mungo's were able to retrieve with the best care they could provide - there was still a sense of awkwardness and faint resentment between the two parties. Her parents being mad that she'd tampered with their brains without consulting first, regardless of her good intentions, and the fact that she'd kept the entire war hidden from them out of fear that it would be enough to stop her from attending Hogwarts (though doing so, they believed, would've kept her out of harm's way and prevented everything she'd gone through from happening). While Hermione, as glad as she was to have her parents back, couldn't help but be frustrated that her parents couldn't, or wouldn't, understand that everything she'd done had been for their sake. And that it simply couldn't have been handled any other way that didn't involve her turning her back from Hogwarts until Voldemort had been dealt with. Death itself seemed far easier and less cruel than leaving what she loved most forever, no matter how drastic it seemed.
It wasn't until a few months later when invitations to Luna's birthday arrived that she allowed herself to leave her cottage and venture back to civilized society. It was a private, simple event, with only a few members of what had once been Dumbledore's Army gathered together in a small and relatively unknown restaurant. Usually unnoticed by most due to its price range and far away location.
"That's why we chose it," explained Ron, who was the first to notice Hermione's puzzlement upon reaching the place, "it's mostly Ministry officials and the rich and famous-type that come. The ones that aren't still chasing us for pictures everywhere we go. Almost makes the price worth it, bloody expensive. And my mum makes better food for less. That, and, well, Luna likes it."
Luna didn't like the whole place itself, rather the garden flourishing with brightly-colored Fwoopers whom she "regretted not being able to hear. Lousy silencing charms."
Hermione couldn't focus on the decorations or stopping Luna from lifting the charms from the Fwoopers (the birds whose songs were known for making people mad). Rather, her attention was set on the kitchens and the house-elves emerging from it with countless of plates every few seconds. Frail, tiny and overworked twig-esque legs carrying their fatigued bodies from side to side to the patron's delight. A few of which she recognized from the Ministry or the papers. The type who'd supported Voldemort when the odds had been in his favor, and only evaded capture thanks to flimsy excuses of the imperious curse, intimidation, or by bribing the courts. They laughed amongst themselves as the elves ran to the brink of exhaustion to serve to their every bark and order, rolling with sickening glee whenever the elves punished themselves for a minuscule mistake. Cruelty the likes of which Hermione hadn't seen since Dobby was alive and being ordered around by the Malfoys.
A large hand slamming into one of the poor creature's bald head was enough for Hermione to stand and rush to aid the elf, who was too busy apologizing to the wizard who'd stuck him to care about her. Seeing red, she raised her wand at the man, who's laughed stopped once he recognized the person he was speaking to.
"Why, if it isn't the Golden Gir-"
"How dare you?!" The commotion was enough to alert the rest of the restaurant along with her friends, who moved closer in support despite having no idea why the fight had begun in the first place.
"Wh-wha - I - Is there something wrong?
"You horrible, vile, brutish-" her insults went on and on (Harry and Ron exchanged glances at those they had never heard before, and had to stifle giggles along with Ginny whenever she said one they childishly found funny). The wizard, flabbergasted, could only open and close his mouth in the most fish-manner of ways as he tried to make sense of what was going on.
"Miss I'm sure you've mistaken me for somebody else. I fail to recognize whatever I could've done to anger you in such a way!"
"And you have the nerve to act clueless? How dare you? To treat an elf-like this! It's inhuman! You can't bully around living, breathing, thinking beings and expect to get away with it because you wear fancy robes and can afford elegant restaur- what's so funny!" If Hermione's face could get any redder, some would argue it was about to combust.
"Miss Granger they- well, you'll have to forgive me. I would never try to insult you in the slightest. It's just… the circumstance is rather unexpected, is all." The man gave himself some time to chuckle, tilting his head to the side in such a condescending manner that Hermione couldn't help but wonder if the man was Snape's relative. "I understand that things might not be the same where you come from, but I can assure you there is nothing to be worried about. These are simply house-elves, nothing more."
Hermione's continuation was quickly stopped short when the man decided to pay attention to the people behind her. "Mister Potter! Mister Weasley! Wonderful to see you-" he stopped to snap his fingers for a house-elf to appear next to him. One of his own, Hermione supposed in disgust, still offended over the problem being so rudely ignored. "Kingsley's told me all about your work, boys. Wonderful, wonderful job! Here, Mini, take a picture of us. With Miss Granger too, of course, to remember this encounter." His large hand grasped Hermione's shoulder tightly, making it impossible for her to move or reach for her wand.
The rest of the restaurant seemed as eager as he was to evade the incident and crowded closer to the famous trio, trying to schmooze them into favors or pictures for the press. Ron scrambled to speak to all of them whilst the rest of the group struggled to remain close without being pushed away by the crowd. Harry, however, much more accustomed (and exhausted) to fame, simply grumbled and stood closer to Hermione for the man's picture.
"Harry, do you know this man?" Hermione spoke in a whisper as the man called for Ron to huddle closer for the picture.
"He's Astram Scrimgeour. Secretary of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures." The knowledge that such a man held such an important position in the department that overlooked the well-being of the very creatures he so casually abused sickened her, but it wasn't surprising.
"Scrimgeour? Like -" Astram's overly loud and friendy order for them to "smile!" quieted her question, but Harry understood it nonetheless and nodded in reply. Scrimgeour's relative, the previous Minister of Magic who'd been murdered by Voldemort during the war, came to mind, and she groaned at the sheer memory of the ignorant politician. Of course, it had to be Scrimgeour. Endlessly wealthy and powerful, at the expense of any actual intellect.
"Well, it was lovely seeing you both again. You too, Miss Granger," he commented as he pocketed the camera, apparently pleased with the results. "Oh, don't give me that look. It was a simple misunderstanding! Listen, how about this. To ensure no bad blood remains between us, let me cover your table's fees. As a sign of good faith."
There was a moment of silence as Hermione stared back at the man, the color in her cheeks slowly fading and returning to their normal state as her friends prepared for the fight to begin once more.
"That would be lovely, Mr. Scrimgeour. Thank you, and sorry for everything," Hermione replied. Completely calm, casual, and entirely unnerving for those who knew her well. The surprise of her demure demeanor was surprising enough to stop Ron from basking in the attention he was receiving and rush to Hermione's side to place his hands on her shoulders, supporting her for what was to come.
"There we go! See? We'll all be looking back at this and laughing in no time," the man reached inside his robes to extract a considerably large number of golden coins, which he handed to a house-elf. "You've yet to decide on a department, aren't you. I'm certain you've heard this many times before, but you should certainly consider joining us at Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. I mean it. We would love to have someone of your caliber. Who knows? Could even learn more about these elves while you do so." He handed her an embroidered card with his name and position on it. It was adorned with gold borders and the most hideous drawing of a fire crab she'd ever seen.
A smile was her only reply as the crowds went back to their own meals and the man bid his goodbyes to the group.
"Luna, I'm very sorry about this. I didn't mean to spoil your party," Harry pressed a hand against her forehead with Neville in the background asking if it would be better to call for a healer. She had yet to run after the man, after all. Incredibly unusual behavior by her already unique standards.
"Oh, don't worry about that, Hermione. I don't mind. I think it's rather noble, what you did. Are you- do you feel faint of mind though? I hear brain follies can be particularly nasty this time of year."
"No, no, I'm alright. Better than I have been for some time, actually," she glanced down at the man's card and chuckled as the fire crab's drawing moved from side to side. "I think I've finally found the department meant for me."
Finally, a new calling in life. Something to make her useful once more. She could feel the cogs in her heart burning with newfound passion and drive for the promise of a new adventure. Exactly what she'd yearned, no, needed, for so long.
That had been six years ago.
She'd made an enemy of Scrimgeour after her efforts and S.P.E.W campaign had driven him out of the Ministry and thwarted any chances of becoming Minister. Her efforts had seen a drastic surge of support from people around the globe - culminating in a myriad of laws and legislations set in motion to protect the rights and liberation of elves and similar creatures worldwide. Every elf was to be freed from their masters, they were to be given proper documentation, shelter, financial support, and fair wages. Those who \ or broke the rules were easily dealt with with a hefty Azkaban sentence and an insurmountable fine enough to scare even the wealthiest of families. The elves rejoiced, so did supporters who were impressed enough that they were already asking her to launch a Minister campaign.
So, to the dismay of her department, she resigned and moved back to the cottage. Feeling just as lost as she had after her graduation from Hogwarts. Resulting in a funk that she was only driven out of by Harry, who'd spoken to her about a recent resurgence in suspected Death Eater activity that drove her to join the Department of Magical Law enforcement. The reported activity had turned out to be nothing but a false alarm, but she'd stayed in the department nonetheless. Ron had just recently left the force after a particularly nasty wound had made him re-think his life, and he'd started helping his brother out with the joke shop. Meaning there was an empty position as Harry's partner that desperately needed to be filled.
That had been a year ago.
And now, she sat in the waiting room of Saint Mungo's, reading through her resignation letter and missing the days when McGonagall would grade her work - the only indication that what she was writing was of any actual worth, at least the way she saw it. Her work as an Auror had been exhaustive and highly dangerous. The only problem was, the more cases she took on and more criminals she faced, their crimes started to become rather repetitive. And the puzzles she solved in order to find them were only becoming easier as the days went by.
Merlin, did she needed a challenge. Or, at the very least, a new endeavor important enough to give her some semblance of meaning before she went insane and begged to be let back inside Hogwarts as a student once more. Anything to feel like she was actually utilizing her knowledge and sacrifices needed to obtain said knowledge to the best of her abilities. Make her feel like she was actually leaving a lasting, positive impact in the community she so fiercely adored.
A nearby ear-piercing screech jolted her out of her thoughts, and she instinctively jumped out of her seat. Everyone in the waiting room quieted in surprise before returning to however they were passing the time. Arthur was fidgeting around with a tamagochi Hermione had gotten him for Christmas, Percy was looking over his mother's enchanted knitting needles, and George and Angelina were distracting baby Fred with a wooden dragon toy (courtesy of Charlie). Ron, who had been nowhere to be seen, burst through the small door, panting and with brown stains on his green pants.
"Ran from the other side… heard screaming..." he said between harsh intakes of breath, "is...is she okay? Am I too late? What'd I miss?"
"Nothing, Ron, nothing," said Hermione, reaching up to rub her friend's back as he struggled to allow air back into his lungs. Ignoring Percy's grumbling about Ron "could save the world but couldn't be trusted to get coffee without spilling it all over himself at the first sign of trouble", she helped him to the seat next to hers.
"Sorry, it's just… well, it's kind of weird isn't it? I mean, no, not weird. We knew this day was coming - should've come some time ago, now that I think about it. But it's still...you know, it feels strange." Hermione couldn't help but agree. It wasn't as the process itself was odd- quite the contrary, it was perfectly normal and something some of their friends and family had gone through many times before. It was an unexplained feeling of unease that, until Ron's confession, Hermione believed only she was experiencing. Her friend's lives seemed to be progressing so quickly, perhaps too quickly, whilst she could only stand by and watch. Much like the man beside her, who she knew wasn't having the easiest of times with his mother nagging him to find a wife (often not-so-subtly that they should give their romantic relationship, which was something they'd mutually agreed not to do years ago) and give her more grandchildren.
Before Hermione could verbally empathize with him, the matriarch exited the patient's room with an impossibly wide smile that made her look twenty years younger despite her graying hair and soft wrinkles. "It's a boy!" she exclaimed, to which everyone in the room cheered in elated relief and moved to visit the newborn and his parents. "Alright now, one at a time! Don't crowd your sister- George, if you even think about bringing that in there I swear on my mother's grave-"
"Miss Granger, a moment, please." Came Minister Shacklebolt's grave, solemn voice from the entrance. Both Hermione and Ron turned to face the man with hands on their wands - immediately assuming there had to be danger nearby if whatever she was needed for was urgent enough to stop her from meeting a new member of the family. She'd told the people at the Ministry that she wouldn't be going in today, hadn't she? And they knew that both she and Harry were not to be disturbed unless Voldemort had come back and was burning down the entire Gringotts. Really, the nerve, some people had to think that they could bother her on such an important day simply because he had a high rank.
"I'll just be a second."
"That's alright. I'll just tell mum you had to go to the loo. Just don't take too long, kay?" The way Ron spoke gave away his suspicion, but he said nothing further on the matter as Hermione nodded in gratitude and left to meet the Minister.
"Minister Shacklebolt, if you don't mind-" Hermione's tongue immediately stopped in its tracks as her closeness to the older man allowed her a more accurate perception of his appearance. He had immense dark circles under his bloodshot and unfocused eyes, with stubble on his cheeks and subtly shaking hands. To everyone else, he would've seemed perfectly normal - only slightly sleep-deprived, but that was hardly cause for concern. But she'd known him for years now, and always admired his ability to maintain a calm demeanor even in the worst of circumstances. It was a quality she'd worked tirelessly to harness herself, and something she knew could only be broken by the strongest of threats. With her wand now out and ready for action, Hermione lowered her voice conspiratorily. "What's going on?"
To this, Kingsley pulled a file from within his robes and handed it to the anxious witch, almost shoving it into her hands as if it were burning. "Reports from the countryside. Dark marks burned into sheep's wool and cornfields, rising water levels, muggles with signs of memory charms, unreadable runes marked into chicken coops…" Hermione perused the photographs and documents as he spoke, seeing the proof of his words in the presented evidence. He paused to give her time to read through it all and awaited her reaction.
"Minister, we've seen this before. Usually young supporters or people simply wanting attention. There was a case just a couple of months ago of someone making a fake Voldemort scarecrow to distract Aurors while they tried to break into Gringotts, remember?" The Minister shook his head lightly at her words and tapped his wand against the files, making some hidden information appear in the formerly blank pages.
"We've also received word from Azkaban," he started, stopping for a beat before allowing himself to say the rest, "the wardens have started to notice strange signs in a particular prisoner -"
"Bellatrix Lestrange."
"Yes," he debated whether to continue as he noticed Hermione's fingers trembling over the dark witch's screaming portrait. "Reports of her hair going from gray to black in less than a night, wrinkles disappearing, wounds healing themselves, hell even her teeth went from rotting to pearly-white like it was nothing. The wardens have been questioned but there's been nothing. We don't know what's been causing this, but the timing is far too perfect for it to not be connected to the countryside incidents."
"No."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I said no, Kingsley. Whatever you're about to ask of me - I'm not interested. You know I have a history with that woman. Whatever's happening, as long as that monster is involved, keep me out of it." She couldn't bring herself to tear her eyes away from the files. The pictures alone were enough for cold shivers to travel through her body and water start to pool behind her eyes. How could she even consider taking on such an assignment?
"I know, and I told everyone else that you couldn't be the one to do it. But you and Potter are the best in the field, and there's no one else the Ministry trusts enough to assign this task. You're the ones with the most experience and knowledge on these people and, well, I just thought-"
"Well you thought wrong," her voice shook in that last sentence, but she continued nonetheless. "There will be a cold day in hell before I follow anything even remotely related to that woman. Fuck, Kingsley," his eyes widened a bit at this, it was the first time he'd ever heard her swear. "I hardly visit Teddy without hyperventilating every time I see Andromeda, and I can't look into her eyes when I speak. I've been ridiculed, humiliated, tortured, and almost murdered by her enough to last me a lifetime. I'll ask Harry to meet you, but that's as far as I go. I'm sorry." But she wasn't, not in the slightest.
Looking more defeated than she'd ever seen him, Kingsley took back his files and nodded solemnly. "I understand. I suppose I can't force you to do something like this… please tell Potter as soon as you can, tell him I'll be in my office. And, please, keep this between us. It's highly classified." Hermione had already started walking back before he finished speaking. Trying her earnest to calm her breathing before she was met by Ron.
"What'd he want?"
"Oh, nothing. He just wanted to give me some updates and asked me to give Harry congratulations from everyone in the Auror department."
"Really? No begging for me to come back?" Ron's joke wasn't enough to make her laugh, but she giggled nonetheless. Just to make him happy.
"Nah, he knows Angelina would use your head as a quaffle if you left her husband alone with the shop and his son. Besides, your products wouldn't be half as good without you as a test subject."
With a "har har" from Ron, the pair finally joined the rest of the family in the delivery room. Despite still being doted on by everyone, Ginny was able to quickly spot them once they entered the room. Her red hair looked closer to Hermione's than it ever had, and there were still clear signs of pain and exhaustion leftover from the painful and long delivery process, but she still beamed at them with an unmistakable glow.
"'Mione! Ron!" she exclaimed, raising her hands and wrapping them around her friends as they took their turns bending over the bed to hug her. Harry stood close by, with hair as messy as his wife's and equally-pronounced bags under his eyes. In his arms lay a tiny red and gold bundle (a Gryffindor blanket Harry had gifted Ginny during her baby shower).
"Hey, James," spoke the new father in a soft yet proud tone she had never heard from him before. "Come meet your uncle Ron and auntie Hermione."
There was hardly time to protest before Harry was asking her to hold baby James; the first newborn she had ever held. The moment his tiny head rested on her hand and the rest of his body fell upon her forearm, at least as far as Hermione was concerned, the world came to a halt. The only thing she could focus on, the only person of importance in that very moment, was the miraculous child she'd been entrusted with. His eyes, still slightly puffy from crying, peered up at her like she was the first and only person he would ever meet, and he gave the tiniest yawn that made every single worry invading her mind disappear, if only for the time being. How one could feel such overwhelming emotion and complete calm and serenity at the same time, she would never understand, but something told her it was one of those few things that no one could understand. Even if there were millions of books about it and she dedicated the rest of her life to the highly specific study, there was no instance in which she would be able to completely explain what her heart was going through at the moment. And somehow, oddly enough, she didn't mind in the slightest. It was the closest she had ever felt to something being magical with no actual spells or enchantments being cast.
"Oh, you guys. He's perfect," she managed to croak out, "and healthy, too. And happy, and handsome. Congratulations. You must be so proud."
"Of me, I hope. I did all the work," joked Ginny as Ron took the baby himself and started cooing at it. "Thank you, 'Mione. I mean it. I'm glad you could-," she yawned, "'m glad you could make it."
Noting the young woman's exhaustion, Molly began ushering people out of the room so she could rest.
"Wait, guys," said Harry as his friends were gathering their things to leave, "I know you've been here for hours, but could you please stay a little longer? At least until Ginny wakes again. There's something we've been meaning to ask you."
They couldn't say no to him, so they gladly stayed behind. Speaking in hushed tones as both baby and mother slept soundly next to them. Busying themselves with idle chatter and unwrapping the extra presents sent to them by their friends and family. While she never admitted to it, Hermione knew she couldn't be more grateful than she already was to be allowed to stay longer for such a joyous occasion. There, surrounded by her friends in the after-delivery relief, looking over her best friend's first child and joking around about what his future career would be and what house he'd be sorted into (Ron bet he would be a Hufflepuff, while Hermione was convinced he would end up in Slytherin as the biggest demonstration of irony the world had ever seen), she knew it was exactly where she was meant to be. And everything that had lead to that moment, no matter how painful, had been worth it.
"Pssst, hey, Hermione, wake up!" She could feel Ron drooling over her as he used her lap as a pillow, and it took a second for her disoriented and content brain to make sense of her surroundings before focusing on the new parents. Ginny, who was finally awake, was fixing her maternity robes after feeding James while Harry gently patted his back - still awkward and overly careful, it reminded her that Harry was just as inexperienced with children as she was.
"Sorry, didn't mean to fall asleep. Ron, hey, stop that," the red-headed boy, still in deep sleep, was hugging her thighs now. Impulsed by the awkward feeling, along with Harry and Ginny's snickers, she flicked her finger against his ear. Which finally woke him up and made him quickly apologize upon noticing whose lap he was laying on.
"Merlin, that couch is terrible," said Ron, "if you'd gone with mum's idea and had him at home we could've been sleeping in our beds." They both stood to stretch their weary extremities as Hermione tried to ignore Ginny's dirty look and reminder that she hadn't wanted to have him in such a noisy place (which she'd repeated multiple times to just about every member of her family).
"What time is it, anyhow?" Asked Harry to distract his wife and her brother from the argument that was sure to start.
"Around ten, I'd wager," Hermione answered, drowsily rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Wait, ten! I'm late!" Late to the job she was likely going to quit anyhow, especially with the knowledge of the case Shacklebot wanted her to investigate, but punctuality was still a value she admired nonetheless. Regardless of what she had to be on time for.
"Wait! Before you go, we had something to ask you," that was Ginny. Hermione stayed behind, though continued putting her shoes back on and trying to tame her hair. The couple turned to face each other and nodded simultaneously.
"You two have been there for me since Hogwarts…"
"And you're very important to us…"
"I'd be dead without you, mentally and physically…"
"There are no people who we trust and love…"
The oddly unsettling synchronized way they spoke made Hermione think they had probably rehearsed the whole thing multiple times before or were more connected than she'd ever believed. While she had never felt so flattered in her life, she mentally implored them to get to the point to she wouldn't be later than she was already set to be.
"We want you to be his godparents," finally finished Harry.
Godparents.
"We know we should've asked you before, but we just thought…"
"And we know that you're not a couple anymore but we don't mind. I mean, if anything happened to us you wouldn't even have to live together or anything, just make sure he wouldn't have to move around too much between your flats-"
Ron was the first to interrupt them. "Guys, of course, we'd love to be his godparents! I'd be offended if you'd chosen anyone else, frankly."
She followed shortly after, no longer caring about getting ready for work as she gave her undivided attention to the family. "Yes," she said, beaming. How could she not? From the moment she'd been saved from the bathroom troll, to the moment she'd first held James in her arms. She'd given it her best to ensure her friend's well-being and safety. After a lifetime of using her skills for them, valuing their friendship and love over every possible danger in the world, there was no possible way she could deny such an honor. If anything happened to them, James would be in good hands.
If anything were to happen to them.
It struck her, suddenly, the complete hypocrisy behind her thoughts. There she was, thinking herself the ultimate protector who'd always had her best interests at heart, just hours after she'd told the Minister she would send Harry to take over what was probably one of the most dangerous missions of their lifetimes - a mystery involving none other than Bellatrix Lestrange herself - simply because she hadn't wanted to deal with her. And she still didn't. There were millions of shark tanks she would opt to jump into before coming any closer to Lestrange than she'd already had. But it was her, or Harry. The boy who'd suffered enough for all of them put together. The one who, despite it all, had managed to find happiness. Form a bursting and promising new family. How could she possibly allow him to face such dangers on his own and possibly rip this family of the father? What if Bellatrix targeted Harry's wife as well? She couldn't, wouldn't see another child orphaned to war. Not another Potter.
She'd been entrusted to protect this child, and she knew the only way to do so.
"Hermione, are you alright?" Asked Ron, wearily approaching her as she struggled to wipe her tears.
"Fine, fine, just fine. I'm just- I have to go, Kingsley's gonna kill me."
Shortly thereafter, she found herself bursting into the Minister's office on her own. Shaking with fear and with tears freely streaming down her eyes as she looked down at her superior with more determination than she'd ever felt in her life.
"Miss Granger, are you certain - " but she'd already grabbed the files and started writing down her notes and theories. With nothing more to say and with a faint smile on his face, the Minister could only watch in awe as she circled the words "Azkaban" with her quill.