INTERLUDE 3
You are the kindest thing that
Ever happened to me, even
If that is not how our
Tale is told. -Nikita Gill
It was just past dusk on the day before what would have been the start of Hermione's 8th year at Hogwarts, her make-up year as it were, and instead of packing a trunk amidst the chaos of the Burrow, she was strolling through a muggle park in Sidbury, nine-and-a-half kilometers from Ottery St. Catchpole.
Bill's contact for print propaganda was supposed to be meeting her in 15 minutes or so and the melancholy of the day had her restless and shuffling along the path.
With all the developments after the final battle, it became clear that her dream of finishing school wouldn't actually come to past. After that initial meeting with Snape, Hermione admitted that fact to herself and tearfully wrote McGonagall to decline the invitation to return.
That decision shuddered through her now, today of all days. It coalesced in the empty spaces of her body and not even the verdant explosion of flowers, a final desperate plea by summer, could ease the knot off loss at the base of her throat.
Hermione stopped at the edge of a fountain, tried and failed to swallow back the painful nostalgia of days-long-gone; it hiccupped past her lips, a sob punched out of the center of her. Thankfully, the shameful sound was swallowed up by the cheerful gurgling of the water; the same could be said for a passerby's footsteps. They sauntered in close to Hermione who, unnerved by the sudden proximity of a stranger, swung her eyes up with an audible "Oh!"
She almost let out another, more colorful exclamation pass her lips when she saw who was standing next to her but she managed to tamp down on her surprise, lest it become conspicuous.
"You?" Hermione whispered as her awe was eaten up by the rippling water. "You're Bill's contact?"
"Hermione," the voice chided, its tone both teasing and tough as it tickled down her spine. "I thought better of you. Can't Bill's brother also be his contact?"
Hermione couldn't help it; she slanted a look of disbelief at the red-headed man next to her.
Percy Weasley. For once in her life, she was bloody speechless. Then he smiled an utterly un-Percy-like smile with a pithy twist of his lips and the words came pouring back to her.
"What's going on? How are you running propaganda? Where have you-"
He huffed a dry laugh, effectively silencing her, and then tilted his head to the right before he took off down the path. Hermione followed, of course. She also used the moment of separation as a chance to really see Percy, who hadn't been in her presence since at least the Battle at Hogwarts.
He had taken to slicking back his naturally wavy hair with some product that darkened the locks to a muted auburn- much less Weasley, in her opinion. The horn-rimmed spectacles had been replaced with less obnoxious thin-wire, square ones but that change was less pronounced than the easiness of his eyes.
Whatever Percy Weasley was doing with his time, he enjoyed it and it showed in the wide-open blue shining there. She caught up to him, so compelled by his vivacity that she hardly spared a glance at his smart muggle clothing.
"So?" She prodded when he continued on his jaunt seemingly content in the silence. Percy's teeth flashed his amusement as his hands found his trouser pockets. He kept his gaze ahead on the path, attention flicking from hedges to trees back to the pavement, before he finally humored Hermione's impatience.
"Your curiosity was always so refreshing," he started with, the observation just shy of wistful but also fleeting in the wake of his story. "I'm afraid, though, I can't reveal everything. It's all too fragile, the unmaking of a tyrant."
Hermione ached with the weight of yet more secrets, more unknowns, but eventually dipped her head in agreement. She could hardly contradict.
"What can you tell me?"
"I was approached by Yaxley shortly after he became Minister. He needed a Weasely representative for the Sacred 28 Council and clearly stories of my ambition had made their rounds with the change of leadership.
So I took it." Percy declared this, slanting a look of prescience toward Hermione, catching the surprise that flared in her eyes.
"It made sense, to continue that impression. I knew it would likely serve my family better to have someone on the inside."
Confidence carried the sotto voice to Hermione's ears and she couldn't help but feel admiration. He was much more Gryffindor than the Weasley clan gave him credit for.
Percy's tenacity, however, dissipated like the dying light of the setting sun once he continued the story into darker, more uncertain territory.
"Then the Marriage Law came and the bastard put a bloody chain around my ankle. I was paired with Skeeter. The Minister's pet."
He exhaled, beleaguered.
"I knew it was no longer safe to associate with my family. I also knew I wasn't going down the Minister's pre-arranged path without kicking and screaming." Hermione and Percy had reached the exit of the park, where a row of towering Beech flanked the walks that led into tow. Under the green canopy it was dark. The sun now set beyond that faraway line of land and sky, left the pair enveloped and in that freedom afforded by dusk, Hermione openly marveled at the man.
She understood now why he was Bill's contact. She also understood quite a bit more about Percy than she ever expected to.
But war begot intimacy.
She imagined this was only the beginning of intimate encounters for her.
A/N: Everything's getting progressively longer... which means either I don't know what the definition of a 'one-shot' is or I am unmoored in my chaotic imagination. As such, chapter 3 will likely be delayed as I am deliberating on the next major scene being a part of that section or holding off until next month. Either way, I believe you will be pleased.
As for my love, jessivyy, sorry not sorry that this Puff had a sadistic side sometimes. 1k words will have to do for now mwhaha
