Chapter Five: To Calm An Anxious Heart

Her world was pain and fire and darkness. She held her breath to hold back her screams, not wanting anyone to find her. If no one tried to save her and no one else met this fate, she could endure this.

But her wish went ungranted. Somewhere in the blackness, someone screamed. A crash echoed around her, setting off a roaring cacophony of yelling and bangs and crying and rushing wind. The world was ending. Nothing mattered. She took a deep breath, dust flooding into lungs and choking off her scream.

She coughed herself awake, rolling over on her belly to muffle it into the mattress. She jumped when a hand touched her back, sucking in air that stuck in her lungs and wouldn't come back out.

"Hermione." Ron's voice grounded her instantly, bringing her back to the reality where she was in the Burrow in Ron's bed with Ron laying beside her. Whatever horror setting she'd been in before existed only in her mind. That didn't exactly bring a lot of comfort for someone who often lived inside her own mind, but at least that place had disappeared for now.

She dug her forehead into the bed, wiping off the sweat that had collected there. "Hermione," Ron said, more concern in his voice than before. She wanted to tell him she was okay, that even though her entire body was shaking, she'd been through this enough times that the rational part of her brain knew it would be over soon. The adrenaline would fade, her breathing would return to normal, and she'd be okay. But the words couldn't come out without her taking a breath, and she just couldn't catch one.

And knowing that it would end soon didn't numb her current panic.

The last two times she'd woken up like this, she had jumped out of bed and walked away, needing to escape, but with Ron's hand heavy on her back, that yearning to get away changed into a desperate need to cling to that comfort his touch brought her. Every inch of her skin tingled with the ghost of past curses except the bit underneath his hand.

She turned to face him, her hands covering her face as tears began to fall. He brought his arms around her as she buried her head in his chest, pressing herself against him. His warmth chased away the chills, and his whispers telling her that she was safe calmed the distant voices in her head that chased her in wakefulness. Soon enough, her crying subsided, and she felt in control of her body again. She could feel all her limbs again.

The pure fear was replaced with a new feeling of dread. Ron had helped her through episodes like this before back at Shell Cottage, but she'd gotten better and now was worse again. She felt like a failure and that she was dragging him down with her.

"I'm sorry," she said, not sure if he could even hear her. She slid her hands down from her face, looking Ron in the eyes for the first time. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry." Ron's solid hold on her softened, and he rubbed circles into her back.

His movements distracted her scattered mind, bringing the pieces back together. She curled her fingers into the collar of his shirt and brought his face down to hers. Ron kissed her gently, but she craved more. If she could concentrate on this, the shadows in her mind felt far away. She sucked at his lower lip, taking advantage of his natural reaction to deepen the kiss into something unmistakably passionate.

Ron managed to pull away just a centimetre to say, "Hermione… are you alright? You seem to be…"

"Distracting myself?" she said. "Yes, exactly."

"Oh." He must not have been expecting her honest admittance and took a moment to process. "Well, as long as we're on the same page."

She nodded, glad not to be meeting any resistance as he came back down to her. He met her vehemence with careful, gentle movements, which only gave her more of a challenge to concentrate on. Their feet were tangled together, their bodies already snug against each other, but she needed more. Keeping one hand on his collar to stop him from getting away again, her other one drifted down to the hem of his shirt. Not wanting to give herself time to catch cold feet, she moved her hand underneath and skimmed his stomach with her fingers.

He gasped against her lips. Finally.

Hermione didn't know what she was doing exactly, but his reaction felt like a victory. At least she had found something new to work on and get better at. The nightmares felt so out of her control, but kissing Ron in a way that made him hum in the back of his throat, that was completely in her control.

Ron kept his explorations more modest. One of his hands gripped her waist, over her shirt, while the other splayed against her back, the tips of his fingers pressed firmly into her skin. Meanwhile, Hermione's hand slid across his stomach, tracing across his ribs than dipping behind his back. Her fingers skimmed the back of his trousers that, she noticed, were loose enough for her hand to accidentally slip under.

Suddenly, Ron flipped her over onto her back. She thought she might've finally succeeded in pushing him over the edge, making him need this closeness as much as she did, but then he pulled away. He kissed both of her cheeks over the dried tracks of her tears, then sat up.

"Come back," Hermione said without thinking, reaching for him.

He took her hands, but instead of letting her pull him in again, he pulled her up and nodded towards the cracked door. "Anyone could walk in right now."

"We can close the door."

Ron chuckled and rolled his eyes. "Now I know you're not in your right mind." His breaths were still heavy, and his cheeks flushed pink. He fidgeted with his trousers, glancing at her sheepishly before checking his watch. "Shit, we've been asleep for four hours."

Hermione shrugged, having passed out for longer periods than that while at Hogwarts, especially during O.W.L.'s. It wasn't like she wasn't aware she hadn't slept well the past two nights. "We both needed it. And that's about how long it takes for Calming Draught to wear off."

"Yeah, right." Ron looked at her, his gaze penetrating with the amount of concern in his eyes. "Are you sure you're alright? Not that I don't enjoy a healthy snog but… it seemed like a strange time."

Hermione pursed her lips, trying to find the right words. "Well… when I'm in that nightmare I'm… alone… and everything hurts. And kissing you is… the opposite of that. Not to mention that fear makes one restless, and when I wake up and there's nothing to be afraid of, I've still got that… restlessness."

His ears were red, but Ron couldn't hide the small self-satisfied smile on his face. "That's all well and good… It just doesn't seem Healer-recommended."

"Ron." Hermione took his hands, taking a deep breath herself. "There's no potion or spell or any sort of magic that will fix this overnight."

"But they started going away when were at Shell Cottage. What made it better then?" he asked, grasping at her hands. For the first time, Hermione could see her own desperation reflected back at her.

"Time," she said, surprising herself. But it was true. The Calming Draught helped her sleep when it felt impossible, and Ron brought her comfort when she woke up from the phantom pains, but time passing had been the only thing that made the nightmares fade. "They will go away again, in their own time. I don't think either one of us can force them to disappear."

"I hate that."

Hermione smiled. She hated it too, but she loved how much he wanted to help her. In practice, it often annoyed her, but in moments like this, she could appreciate that his overbearing nature meant he cared. "I'll take the Calming Draught," she said, delighted to see his worried brow unfurrow. "I promise, for as long as I need, I'll swallow my pride and take it."

Ron leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "You are so stubborn," he said with affection, but before she could find a retort, he stood from the bed and pulled her with him. "Come on. Maybe someone's started dinner."

Hermione rolled her eyes, still slightly miffed at his 'stubborn' comment. They made their way downstairs, not hearing any noise to indicate the rest of Ron's family had come home from the funeral but his parents' bedroom door was closed. Maybe they weren't the only ones who had needed a nap.

When they walked into the kitchen, the smell of chicken roasting welcoming them inside, they found Harry and Ginny bustling about over pots and pans. Ginny smirked at them through the steam. "It's about time you two woke up."

"Lay off it," Ron said, then changed his tone when he asked, "Wait, how did you know we were asleep?"

"Because I went to check on you after you'd been gone for more than an hour. I figured that was more than enough time for the pair of you to 'sort through things', but then I found you passed out, not missing so much as a sock. Never would have thought you'd be so boring."

"We're not boring," Ron said, and for a moment, Hermione thought he might delve into details about what they'd been up to just a few minutes ago.

Luckily, Harry cut in before that. "I really don't want to know about anything 'not boring' going on between you two."

Ginny was still giving Ron a challenging grin, so before their sibling rivalry could get the best of them, Hermione asked if they needed any help cooking dinner. Most of it was already done, so she and Ron set the table. Harry and Ginny let them know everyone had come home from the funeral and confirmed their suspicions that once the four of them had disappeared, so did the reporters. Harry quickly went on to show them the pile of funeral invitations that had arrived throughout the day. "I don't know if I should go to any though," he finished.

"And I think he's an idiot," Ginny chimed in. "As you said, Hermione, those gossip-hunters will show up anywhere they think he might go, whether or not he turns up. It's not like he'd be bringing them."

"But you saw the commotion they caused today," Harry argued. "Seems like everything was better once I was gone."

"You can't just not go," Ron said, stealing the words out of Hermione's mouth.

"It's not that I don't want to." Harry threw down the envelope in his hand. "But it feels disrespectful to go to the funeral only to be a disruption."

"And it's not disrespectful to skip out on it?" Ron asked.

Harry growled in frustration. "Exactly! I lose no matter what I do!"

"Would you stop being so dramatic?" Ginny said as she dumped the roasted potatoes into a bowl. "Suck it up and go. We'll bow out early like we did today. Everyone will understand."

Harry sighed heavily as he sunk into a chair, running both of his hand through his hair. Ginny seemed to have won for a moment, but then Harry spoke up again. "Maybe I should go under a disguise like I did for Bill and Fleur's wedding."

"Yeah, we've gotten pretty good at glamour charms," Ron said. "Wouldn't be hard to do."

"We'd have to let the family know ahead of time," Hermione added, already composing the letter they could send in her head.

Ginny dropped the platter of steaming chicken breasts in the centre of the table, disrupting their plans. "Is everything such a production with you three? Honestly, we're not evading Death Eaters here. If a couple of reporters snap your picture while you're rightfully paying your respects to the dead, it's not the end of the world."

Hermione blushed and looked away, Ginny's words resonating hard inside her. How many times a day did she have to remind herself the war was over, they weren't on the run anymore, and they could stop thinking like this? "Sorry, Ginny. It's just… after having to be in a 'constant vigilance' mind-set for so long, it's hard to break the habit."

"You don't need to lecture me on what it took to survive last year. You weren't the ones facing Death Eaters every day." She turned sharply back to the stove, her long hair swinging out and ending the conversation. Hermione, Ron, and Harry glanced at each other guiltily, eventually conceding to discuss the schedule of funerals. There were many in the coming week, a few overlapping, so they had to plan carefully.

Soon enough, Bill and Fleur dropped in unexpectedly, bringing their own full-course dinner, then Charlie returned with a box of Muggle take-out. Hermione couldn't help but notice that all of the Weasley children seemed to be trying to make up for their mother's absence in the kitchen. Even George, who showed up to the Burrow with Percy as if he hadn't missed his twin's funeral that day, came bearing a dozen Butterbeers. Mrs Weasley burst into tears when she came downstairs to find her family gathered around a table overflowing with food and laughter.

Hermione wished that that night would have marked the start of normalcy in their lives again. Instead, it stamped a single happy memory into the preface of a week of mourning. They seemed to hop from funeral to funeral, barely spending more than nights at the Burrow. After a while, they all seemed to blend together, whether large or small, Muggle or magic, an acquaintance or close friend.

Somehow, their lives inside the Burrow started to settle despite feeling like they were never there. Charlie left to make contact with the foreign allies he had made for Kingsley, wanting to keep those relationships strong now that the Ministry was so weak. George, to everyone's surprise, moved back into the flat above Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and set to work on the shop again, refusing his family's help. Hermione was impressed with his productive grief, but Ron fretted about it nearly every day.

With so many empty bedrooms, Mr Weasley thought it silly for everyone to be sharing and insisted Hermione move into Percy's old bedroom and Harry into Bill and Charlie's. Hermione kept the room sparse, refusing to completely move in. She hadn't told Mr and Mrs Weasley the full-extent of her parents moving abroad, leaving out important bits like their missing memory, but they'd agreed it was a good plan to wait for the Wizarding World of Britain to settle before bringing them home. She still planned on moving back in with them, but she didn't know when, or even where, that would be exactly.

She made sure the house and practice had been sold, and no ties existed between the Grangers and the Wilkens. The home she'd grown up in now belonged to a family with two kids and the practice remodelled into a massage parlour. Their lives in England had been completely erased. Thre was no returning to her life before.

These were the thoughts circling her mind at all times. She tried to imagine what life would be like once her parents were back, but she couldn't without thinking of their old home. Really, she couldn't even imagine past finding them. Hermione knew exactly where they'd moved to Australia, but to get there, she'd either have to spend over half of her savings to fly to them or risk asking Kingsley for help. Not that she thought Kinglsey would punish her for protecting her parents, but what she'd done broke at least half a dozen Wizarding laws. She didn't want the Minister for Magic covering up for her.

Fetching her parents seemed like a faraway dream most days. Between the funerals, she skimmed through the Daily Prophet, reading about every new arrest or trial or skirmish. Depending on the reporter, Kingley's efforts were either praised or criticized. Harry grew antsier every day.

"He hasn't said anything about how I can help?" he asked Percy as they entered Andromeda Black's house for the final funeral of the week. "Anything at all?"

"Even if he had, that would be classified information," Percy said.

"Really, Percy?" Ron said.

"He's the Minister for Magic now. Your previous friendly relationship with him is going to change. It'd be against my job as Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic to divulge information without explicit permission."

Ron rolled his eyes, but any retort he had was interrupted as they walked inside the quiet house. People milled about the front room, most either members of the Order or Hogwarts staff. Hagrid took up an entire corner, sniffling into a handkerchief.

Andromeda had forgone a formal ceremony for Tonks and Remus, opting instead to open her house for a few hours to those closest to the late couple to pay their respects to the urns set above the fireplace. She had chosen cremation, it seemed, to keep a part of them here for Teddy. And maybe for herself as well. Hermione could see how large and lonely this house could be with only a baby to keep her company.

The two occupants of the house stayed in a backroom, everyone reaching an unspeakable agreement to only enter a few at a time. Hermione, Ron, Harry, and Ginny took a while to make their way through the first room, stopped by every person they passed. Those not present at any of the other funerals thanked them, especially Harry, for ending the war, and those they had seen before brought news of celebrations or loved ones still missing.

When they made it to the back sitting room where Andromeda stood with a sleeping Teddy in her arms, Hermione felt drained. Their week of funerals felt more like one social call after another.

"Finally come to meet your godson?" Andromeda asked as they walked into the room, cutting off any condolences they might have opened up with.

Hermione froze in the doorway, her breath disappearing as her eyes landed on Andromeda. Though she knew the witch in front of her was Tonks' mum, her survival instinct told her to run. She closed her eyes for a moment, dispelling Bellatrix's face from her mind. A warm hand took hold of her cold one, and she opened her eyes to find Ron beside her. He led the way in, bringing her closer to Andromeda but also keeping himself between the two of them. What would she do without him?

"I would have come sooner, but I didn't want to intrude," Harry answered, going tense and formal. Andromeda's eyes were intimidating but overall carried a kind-look about them. Hermione knew it wasn't just Andromeda's cool exterior putting Harry off. Guilt practically wafted off of him at every funeral, especially when speaking with the families of the fallen. She wished he could accept that none of these deaths had been his fault and that he had prevented many more from happening, but she knew no one's words alone would convince him.

"I suppose we're family now in a way," Andromeda said, "and I haven't much left nowadays. So, please, intrude whenever you like."

Harry gulped and nodded, his eyes wide and watching the bundle in Andromeda's arms. "Would you like to hold him?" she asked.

"I don't know how."

"It's not exactly a hard skill to learn. Here, sit." Andromeda gestured Harry towards the sofa, barely giving him enough time to sit and wipe his sweaty hands against his trousers before placing Teddy, only a swaddle of blankets from Hermione's view, into his arms.

The room seemed a little brighter as Harry stared down at the baby with wonder and warmth and just a pinch of terror. Andromeda adjusted his hands then stepped back with a satisfied smile.

Ginny sat beside Harry, a hand on his elbow as she cooed over Teddy. Ron's neck craned to see into the blankets, an eagerness Hermione had never seen before in his eyes. She pulled him over to the sofa, giving him the spot next to Harry. He sat close, a hand reaching out but not touching the baby, ready to catch him in case Harry suddenly decided to drop him.

Hermione had to sit on the edge of her seat to catch a sight of Teddy, only seeing a tuft of shockingly blue hair peeking over the blankets. "Dora was born with purple hair," Andromeda said as she lounged back in one of the sitting chairs. "He takes after her in that way, Merlin help me."

"I can help," Harry said suddenly, nearly jumping out of his seat with enthusiasm. "Bill is still negotiating with the Gringotts goblins at the moment, but once I can access my vault again, I can get him whatever he needs. And I can be here at any time and help care for him. I don't really know how to take care of a baby, but I can learn. I want to do everything I can to help him grow up okay. That's what godfathers are for, right?"

Ginny placed a hand on his shoulder, restraining his vehemence with a concerned frown that matched Hermione's own. Andromeda merely smirked. "You are far too young to become a full-time father yet. We've been handling ourselves fine, just the two of us. Why don't you start with simply spending time with him as often as you can without giving up your own life?"

"But I can do more–"

"Harry Potter." Andromeda reached forward and placed a hand on his knee. "You do not need to be his father. He already has one of those, even if he isn't here with us anymore. Your only obligation is to be his godfather and to love him."

"But–"

"Are you sure you want to keep arguing with me?"

Harry snapped his mouth shut, ducking his head in a pout as he stared down at little Teddy again. Andromeda sat back in her chair, but apparently, Harry wasn't done. "What about Kreacher?"

"My mad Aunt's grumbling, gruesome house-elf?" Andromeda asked with confusion. "Shouldn't he be dead by now?"

Annoyance and anger boiled in Hermione's belly, set off by Andromeda's flippant tone. "He's alive and well, actually, and was quite lovely to the three of us while we stayed at Grimmauld Place last year."

Andromeda raised a sceptical eyebrow. "Are we talking about the same house elf that used to mop the stairs outside Sirius' bedroom when I visited him in the hopes one of us would slip?"

Hermione swallowed against the bitterness in her throat, searching for an argument before Harry jumped in. "He's changed a lot since then." Andromeda scoffed, but Harry continued. "He's one of the reasons I was able to defeat Voldemort. He sacrificed a lot helping Regulus go against him."

"Huh," Andromeda said, leaning far back in her chair. "Either you know much more about my family than I do, or you're suffering from a series of odd delusions."

"It's all true," Ron said. "We found a lot of secrets at Grimmauld Place."

"All very interesting," Andromeda said with a flat tone. "So what about this house-elf?"

"He has a name," Hermione bit out.

"Yes, I'm aware. Now, what of him?"

"He should be here with you," Harry said in a rush before Hermione could get in anything else. "Sirius passed him along to me, but he's been at Hogwarts since autumn and is still there working on repairs with the other house-elves. But I think he'd be happier in a real home."

"Not my home. That creature hates me."

"He's gotten better," Harry insisted. "He's not completely pleasant company, but as long as he has his own space, he's incredibly useful."

"You refuse to lose a fight, don't you?" Andromeda asked with a tired smile. "Fine, he can have a trial run here, but I'll send him right back to you in a heartbeat if I must."

Harry agreed with a satisfied smile, but Hermione couldn't bite her tongue any longer. "He deserves to live in a home that wants him."

"They need him more than we do," Harry said in a quiet tone as if they could keep their conversation unheard by Andromeda. "Besides, it would be good for him to get out of the castle. I doubt he's much help there anyways as old as he is."

"Then he should stay with us at the Burrow."

"My parents would hate that," Ron said. "Not that they wouldn't want to give him a place to stay, but house-elves are sort of a status symbol for Pureblood families. It wouldn't feel right having one at our home."

"It would be better than here." Hermione didn't care if Andromeda could hear; she wanted the older witch to be offended. Kreacher had suffered from Voldemort and his followers as much as any of them, and he didn't deserve to go back to his life as a slave, especially for someone so hateful towards him.

Harry and Hermione held a glare in front of Ron until he cut in again. "Harry's right, Hermione, Kreacher's better off in a house rather than a crumbling castle. He's more suited for domestic work than manual labour."

Ganged-up on, Hermione was ready to explode, but Ginny interrupted, saying, "Oi, are the three of you finished squabbling?"

"Yes," Harry said, leaving no room for argument. "It's my decision to make, so if you'll accept him, I would like to give Kreacher to you and Teddy for the foreseeable future… or until you kick him out."

Andromeda chuckled. "Yes, I'm glad that's settled." Her gaze drifted over to Hermione, not challenging as she would have thought but curious, as if wondering if Hermione would keep hold of the argument or let it go.

Hermione didn't have much of a choice either way. A figure appeared in the doorway, all of them looking over to find Professor McGonagall standing there with apologetically pursed lips. "I hate to interrupt, but the Minister would like a word with you four before he has to leave."

"Kingsley is here?" Harry asked.

Andromeda nodded. "He was the first to arrive." She stood from her seat, reaching out to take Teddy. "Best not to keep the Minister waiting."

But Harry hugged Teddy closer to him, seeming surprised at his own movements. Andromeda pushed through the tense air, saying, "How about you come here for dinner tomorrow evening? All of you."

For a second, Hermione thought Harry might simply refuse to let Teddy go, but then he nodded and handed back the baby. "That would be great," he said.

Ron stood and rubbed a fingertip against Teddy's cheek. "See you later, Teddy," he said so quietly and sweet that Hermione's heart ached. She was still on edge from the argument and miffed that Ron had taken Harry's side, and his affection towards Teddy stung. Then he turned around and offered a hand to help her up. She took it.

They followed Harry and Ginny out into the hall, where Professor McGonagall led them in the opposite direction of the living room. Harry seemed too lost in his own thoughts to say anything, Ginny worrying over him, and Hermione didn't trust herself to speak just yet. Ron spoke up first, asking Professor McGonagall about Hogwarts and the rebuilding...

"Staff have made quite a lot of progress securing the area so far," Professor McGonagall explained. "We've been refusing volunteers until the castle is at least free of any curses, and all of that commotion stirred up quite a few of Hogwarts secrets. I feel we'll have to start accepting volunteers soon."

"Our family will be there," Ron said.

"Yes, your father has been most vocal. We've placed a few extra security measures around the grounds, so be sure to reiterate to him to send word before anyone arrives or you'll be sitting by the gates for hours."

"Good to know."

"Will it open again next year?" Hermione asked, her head clearing enough to remember she'd been meaning to ask the professor this question practically since the end of the battle.

"I would like to," Professor McGonagall said as they walked up a single flight of steps at the end of the hallway. "It's too hard to say for now if that will be feasible, but my ideal plan is to offer an opportunity for those who feel prepared to sit their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s then resume our usual schedule in September. Anyone who was unable to attend their final year will be welcomed back if they so wish. The Ministry exams will be much larger than we've ever had in the past, but we'll make it work."

"So we can all go back?" Hermione's heart lifted with a joy not felt in a long time. There seemed so little to be happy about these last few days.

"Bet you could take the exams beforehand and pass with flying O's," Ron said, nudging her elbow. "It's Harry and me who'd need a year of refreshing, not that we'd get very far without you."

"Perhaps you should speak with Minister Shacklebolt before making any decisions," Professor McGonagall said, opening up a door to a small office space.

Kingsley stood to the far end, hands behind his back as he gazed out the window. The shadows in his face slipped away as he turned around to greet them with a warm smile. "Hello, again. I'm afraid I have little time for pleasantries today." He duplicated the simple, cushioned desk chair and transfigured one into a small round table for them to sit around. Professor McGonagall took her leave as they sat, and Kingsley produced another wand from his sleeve. "Firstly, I believe this belongs to you, Ron."

Ron hesitated, staring in disbelief at the wand, unmistakably his. He reached over and took it, asking, "How…?"

"A Snatcher, I can't say who, had an entire knapsack full of wands. A few of our watch wizards have spent days identifying them."

"Have you found any vine wands?" Hermione asked, hope fluttering in her chest that she might be reunited with her own wand.

"I wish I could say we had," Kingsley said, a few shadows returning to his face. "Many Muggleborn wands were destroyed after being confiscated."

"I thought that might be the case." Disappointment weighed down on her despite knowing it had been a long shot.

"Ollivander's reopened his shop," Ron offered. "We'll plan a trip soon."

Hermione nodded, but the heaviness in her heart remained. Practically, she needed a new wand, but the destruction of her wand felt like the sudden death of a childhood pet. All her first experiences with magic had been with that wand. A new one simply would not be the same.

"Now the time has come," Kingsley said, slipping a roll of parchment from his pocket, "for me to ask too much of you."

"Dumbledore used to say that," Harry said absentmindedly.

"Then I'm on the right path." Kingsley straightened his parchment, taking a second to gather his thoughts. "As I'm sure all of you are aware, the Ministry has been torn apart by the war. It is hard to know who to trust. I've put a lot of focus into the Auror Department, not only because of my responsibility as the previous Head, but also because a strong group of Aurors will be essential in rebuilding our world after so much darkness. Unfortunately, we haven't the manpower at this moment to properly handle the fallout of Voldemort's defeat."

Hermione sensed where Kingsley's words were leading, her stomach dropping to the floor. But he wouldn't, would he? Not so soon after the battle, surely, though he seemed desperate and uneager, as if doing something he didn't want. But they were still so young, though, she supposed, of age. But none of them had any N.E.W.T.'s. They weren't qualified!

"I must offer you an opportunity that I know you will find difficult to refuse, so I won't hear your decision today." Kingsley paused to hand the parchment across to Harry, then finally said, "We're recruiting new Aurors to take part in an accelerated training, one that will involve taking part in assignments while completing training and tests instead of after. And the normal academic requirements will be waived for special cases." He emphasized this last part with a pointed look at Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

Harry stared at Kingsley in awe. "You want us to become Aurors?"

"In training," Kingsley clarified. "As talented as you, I can't simply send you out on your own first day. And the offer isn't only for the three of you. With so many other things needing my attention, I can't do all of the recruiting myself, so I've been reaching out to those I can trust to send the message onward to those you find worthy. I believe that Dumbledore's Army list of yours would be a good place to start."

"Yeah, of course," Harry said, passing along the parchment to Ron and Hermione. Getting a good look at it. Hermione realized it was an invitation to an informative meeting at the Ministry that Friday. Ron held it close, gripping it as if it would fly out of his hand at any moment.

"Now, I can't ask a witch or wizard underage to undergo this training," Kingsley said, turning to Ginny.

"Of course," she grumbled. "I'm used to it."

"But you spent time at Hogwarts this past year and might be able to add a few names of your own."

Ginny sat up in her chair, engaging in the conversation for the first time. "Oh, I can do that."

Kingsley smiled. "Please don't feel restricted to only those who were in Dumbledore's Army. I trust all four of you. Give an invitation to anyone you see fit."

Hermione had a million questions, most of which involved bringing to question Kingsley's sanity to even propose such a plan, but then the minister's front pocket chirped. He reached in and pulled out a pocket watch that glowed brightly until he pressed the top button. "I'm afraid I must once again leave wanting to say more. Hermione,"–she jumped at her name–, "Arthur has made me aware of your parents' situation."

A thousand different curses that would even make Ron blush rushed through her mind. How much did Kingsley know? Had he looked into it? Did he know what she did? Was this the moment she had been dreading, the one in which either she would be carted off to Azkaban or ask the Minister for Magic to cover her crimes?

Kingsley reached across the table to pat her hand and said, "He told me you want to wait to bring them home until it's safe, which I commend, but when the time is right, I would like to offer the Ministry's resources. After all you've done, it's the least we can do."

"Thanks." Hermione didn't trust herself to say more. She couldn't accept the offer and she couldn't decline it.

Whatever way Kingsley took her answer, he stood from the table and vanished his chair. "I hope to see you three on Friday. And Ginny." He stopped to pat her on the shoulder. "Your efforts at Hogwarts have not gone missed."

Hermione sunk back in her seat as Kingsley left, watching the joy build on Ron's face. Dread filled her and sent a cold chill down her body. How the hell was she supposed to stop him from taking the offer?


Author's Note: Late in posting another chapter, but I've been slower in writing so not able to post as consistently. With holidays coming up, I'm afraid posting chapters will continue to be delayed. However, I hope you're still enjoying the story and will stick around as it continues. :) As always, a big thanks for everyone and anyone who has or will follow, favourite, and/or review. You rock my socks!