She stared and stared into the ocean and its whitecaps that were Draco Malfoy's eyes with fire within her own. Blaise Zabini sat beside him.

Malfoy stared back at her with sunken eyes and hollow cheekbones, looking frail and paler. And Zabini looked like he hadn't slept since the War ended, or even drank a cup of water since then.

His body suddenly stiffening in his seat, Malfoy looked quickly towards Blaise, Kingsley, Kingsley's desk, the floor, and at anything but her. His breath quickened and he took a few faulty breaths before he looked back at her.

She felt uncomfortable, angry, scared, loathsome, and completely betrayed all at once amongst many other emotions at the pit of her stomach.

She recollected herself and brought her attention to Kingsley, "I wasn't aware you had guests. Should I come back to complain later on?" She asked Kingsley sternly, attempting to maintain composure and professionalism while in the presence of the former Death Eater and supporter.

Kingsley Shacklebolt and she fought alongside each other in the War. They grew a relationship close to the one she had with Albus Dumbledore, a sort of mentorship that Hermione valued.

Kingsley stood up and walked towards her, "Hermione, I apologize to have sprung this on you." He looked back at the two, "I'll be back, stay seated please."

He guided Hermione outside and stepped out of the office, shutting the door behind them. Hermione swivelled to stare at the Minister. "Why wasn't I informed of this, Kingsley? I had to find out from Taura that this has been in the works for a while." She snarked.

Kingsley nodded calmly, "You were not informed because I wanted to make sure that none would be placed in your sector before I told you. We've been extremely short-handed in many other departments, and we considered the challenges former Death Eaters may face when trying to fit back into this society. So, we decided to recruit those who were doing well and give them a chance to redeem themselves, so to speak." He put a hand on her arm, "I understand your feelings toward them, and I am aware of what you went through. You are not to worry, as you will not be having to be in contact with any of them."

Hermione listened and felt a small wave of relief as she learned none would be placed in her sector and she would not have to interact with them as if they were any other employee. However, she was still skeptical. "How do you know you can trust them?"

"If problems do arise, they will be put back onto probation. They were given this opportunity strictly to integrate them back into society, we did not make this decision on a whim. We gave them a choice of either working here for a while and abide by additional rules to build their resume or continue their probation, and many chose this option."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Just because they chose to work here does not mean they don't hold the same beliefs and values as before. They could be wanting to get off probation so they can–"

Kingsley held her shoulders firmly. "Hermione, they are not fighting against us anymore. They are compliant and wanting their lives to be normal again. Most former Death Eaters were the products of prejudiced pureblood parents who had followed Voldemort when he murdered Harry's parents. They did not have any other influences to tell them any different, and they realize this now and take full responsibility for their actions. You have nothing to worry about."

Hermione's shoulders slumped as she exhaled and nodded, listening closely to his words. "Okay," she breathed, burning a hole in the small white speck on her shoe that she just noticed. If the Minister trusted them this much, maybe, possibly, she could as well. That doesn't mean she'll try to befriend or even be acquainted with them.

She never thought that Death Eaters were capable of change. She always thought they would be stuck in their ways as their parents and their parents' parents were before them. But here they were. Agreeing to work for the Ministry and agreeing to obey the additional rules that come with it, all for the chance at a normal life. Many of those of probation were Hermione's age, plus or minus a few years.

She tried to imagine growing up in the kind of families the former Death Eaters had. A strong, power-hungry, abusive father who poisoned their minds with discriminatory, blood-purist values and beliefs. A sophisticatedly, submissive, well-mannered, high profile mother who threw extravagant parties for the socially elite and held high expectations of their heirs. A lineage of purebloods upon purebloods from both the maternal and paternal side, all never breaking the tradition of keeping the blood pure. Of course the former Death Eaters turned out the way they did. Pressured by the thousands of previous generations, depending on them to carry out their traditions and beliefs. Hermione thought she would have turned out the same way if she was born into that kind of family. It contributes to that muggle Nature vs. Nurture debate, and nurture outweighed nature in the case of the children of loyal Death Eaters.

Hermione pondered for a minute before she looked up at Kingsley. "I would like for some to fill positions in my sector." She said with determination.

Kingsley looked taken aback by her sudden statement. "Are you sure, Hermione? If it will trigger you or upset you in anyway, I don't think it will be a good idea."

She thought on it for a moment. Could she interact with a former Death Eater, one that saw her as an enemy and she them? Could she trust them to be a contributing and productive coworker? Why would she say that if she wasn't so sure?

Merlin, she'd been through a war, fought against them, and won against them. Why was she afraid to work with them? Yes, she could handle this. She would, after all, be the one to give them orders. And they are aware she would not tolerate any prejudiced behaviour, even just a muttering of that God-awful word that was carved onto her arm, and would not hesitate to report it to her superiors. It would be her word against theirs, and she was the goddamn Golden Girl. Yes, she could handle this.

She nodded confidently, "I can handle it. I will be expecting some new additions to the S.P.E.W. sector on Monday morning." With tight lips gave Kingsley a nod before turning on her heel back to her office.

Taura was back at her desk just outside Hermione's office. Hermione panicked when she looked at Taura working peacefully and realized what she had just done. She didn't even consider how Taura would feel to have to interact with former Death Eaters regularly come Monday morning. Hermione instantly felt guilty and selfish for letting her constant need to face challenges head-on influence her decision.

"Taura, can I talk to you in my office please?" Hermione smiled slightly and she led Taura into her office. They entered and sat where they had just a half hour before.

She looked at Taura and sighed. "I decided to take on some former Death Eaters within the sector." She said rather quickly, afraid of how Taura may react.

Taura's eyes widened and she quickly stiffened as her breath faltered. She stayed silent.

Hermione grew nervous looking at her friend and fellow colleague. "K-Kingsley told me they gave them a choice to either work here or, um, continue their probation. Many chose to work here, wanting to redeem themselves and integrate into this society. He said they just want a chance at a normal life." Taura continued to sit still, but her eyes now facing downward. Hermione couldn't stop her mouth from trying to defend her decision, despite her mind knowing it wasn't a good one.

"When I barged into Kingsley's office, Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini were sitting in front of him to, I assume, receive their placement within the Ministry. I'm not sure if you remember them, they were in my year. However, t-their faces were sunken in, their lips were dry and their clothes looked disheveled. They looked beyond awful, so I'd thought that probation wasn't treating them well." She continued to ramble.

Taura looked at her, "A Malfoy you said? As in Lucius Malfoy, one of the most loyal and heartless Death Eater?"

Hermione nodded. "Kingsley mentioned that many of these former Death Eaters were forced to believe what their parents do and carry out the traditions and pass them onto future generations. I'd thought about it myself for a few minutes, if I was an heiress of a pureblood family I think I would have turned out just as awful as well." She gulped on nothing, hoping to lubricate her dry throat.

Taura looked at the carved letters on the inside of her forearm. Hermione quickly looked at it before pulling her sleeve down. She probably would have used that word several times as well.

"How do you know we can trust them?" Taura asked, seeming less timid than before.

"They have rules to follow and are required to act professionally, Kingsley said that they would be put back on probation and their house arrest if problems arise." Hermione said rather-of-factly as she stared at her hands. "I thought we could use some extra help, with researching and writing up this law we're trying to propose."

A minute-long silence washed over them and with each passing second Hermione regretted her decision just a little bit more.

"I guess we could use the help. As long as Minister Shacklebolt trusts them, I suppose." Taura nodded, not entirely on-board but not entirely despising Hermione's decision either.

"It'll work out just fine, Taura. We wouldn't be so different from them if we decided not to give them a chance." Hermione tried to convince her as much as she tried to convince herself. She gave Taura a reassuring smile, who returned it before leaving Hermione with her thoughts.

With her doubts of allowing former Death Eaters around her life's passion still lingering, she saw this as an opportunity to prove to them that she isn't as inferior as they thought she was. The ball was in her court, as muggles would say.

Her day went just as quickly as it came, the endless stacks of paperwork and policies seeming to never lessen no matter how many documents she looked through.

Taura brought her morning coffee soon after their talk and then her afternoon tea just after lunch.

It neared the end of the day and Hermione cleared the clutter than was her train of thought with a flick of her wand. By the time she'd finished organizing everything based on the policies in place on House-Elf ownership, their current working conditions, and several personal documents from house-elves' experiences, among many others, Taura came in to wish her a good night.

Hermione collected her belongings and floo'd home. Crookshanks meowed at her arrival, or he was just hungry, Hermione thought. She fed her loyal feline and began to make a meal for herself. She looked over at the box in the corner as she ate her dinner, her thoughts beginning to seep in like fog. She'd tried to best to put her questions surrounding this box of letters into the back of her mind all day, and the fact that she would be working with former Death Eaters come Monday helped.

However, now sitting just five feet away from the box made all her questions come forward in her conscious mind. She stood up and brought the box to the table, dumping the entirety of its contents onto her dinner table.

She sat organizing each letter by year and once there were 3 piles, she organized them by month within their respective year. They weren't written in any set pattern, she'd received one in December 1996 and then didn't receive others until 2 months later in February of 1997, when she had then received three.

Curiously, she reached for the letter following the earliest one.

September, 1996

To Her,

I found an overwhelming sense of peace and safety in my garden during the summer months. It was my small, prickly corner of a sanctuary that was surrounded by a world of darkness, but still a sanctuary nonetheless.

It was hard to come by recently. Even my bedroom reeks of anger and darkness, it suffocates me in my night terrors. It's starting to seep into my lungs and there's nothing much I can do about it.

I've been trying to keep my mother afloat, doing anything to keep her safe and remotely happy. I spread myself out, taking on various tasks and responsibilities, like butter on a bun. And then someone takes me and dips me in a bowl of soup, drowning and burning me simultaneously. And I do it all to keep her safe.

I suppose that's a strange analogy.

I've returned to the castle, finally. My lungs have already been cleansed and this is now my sanctuary.

However, within the sanctuary, within me, is a pit of darkness filled with resent, guilt, and unwillingness. This year will be the most difficult and hardly one to bask in my new found sanctuary. The darkness has escaped from its confines to an ocean of hidden soldiers, with a revengeful five-star General leading them.

I'm sorry for the years to come.

Sincerely,

Once again, no signature or name. Hermione scratched at her head, as if it would get the gears of her inner mind to start grinding. At least this one had more to work with.

Hidden soldiers, a five-star General. Sixth year. Voldemort? She assumed that's what the writer meant, since Voldemort's followers continued to conspire secretly, underground, awaiting his return.

She opened the next one.

December, 1996

To Her

As the year grows colder, I wonder if I am as well. I think I am. I am exhausted, I am weak, and I feel beyond discouraged in everything I set out to do.

Nothing is going the way I planned. Then again, anything I planned was not my plan to begin with. So I guess you could say it's not my plan that's failing. Now I'm just rambling.

You looked astonishing at the Slug Club's Christmas party. The pink of your dress brought out your rosy cheeks, and the way you avoided McLaggen amused me greatly.

I always enjoyed watching you from a distance. Not in a creepily way, Merlin, just whenever you'd turn up around me. Appearing in the library with a strut in your step in search of some book you've somehow not read yet, walking into the Great Hall for breakfast before class smiling at your friends, you sitting in your seat in a potions class because of course you'd arrive earlier than I would.

These memories I have of you I will cherish forever. These memories of you are now a part of the sanctuary within my mind.

Sincerely,

Hermione was disappointed but not surprised. However, she was surprised with the content of letter.

Someone was surprised to see her arrive early to a class? Surely the writer must not know her well at all. She'd arrived 10 minutes early to every lecture she took. That was just in her nature, something she did automatically, she didn't know anyone took note of her mannerisms. Mustn't be that good a sanctuary if it was filled with her reading or scourging down dinners in the Great Hall, she thought.

She opened one of the three she received in February.

February, 1997

To Her

I hear a constant ticking in my head, a clock I can't get away from. Ticking away each second that passes by, reminding me I'm still as much a failure as I was a second before.

Mum owls me less frequently than she used to. Her letters getting more vague. I'd begun to worry if someone has started to watch over her constantly, following her around to ensure she's following orders and punishing her if she didn't. Of course, she wouldn't owl to tell me if that were the case, she wouldn't want me to worry.

No one ever told me how lonely it would feel. To put someone else's needs before your own, risking everyone and everything for their safety and happiness. I'd thought I was good at keeping my true feelings hidden away in a safe within the bank that was my mind, and pretend I was living a normal life. But again, I'd spread myself out too thinly on the bun.

I'm unsure why I continue to write these letters to you. I still don't intend to send them. I suppose I like to imagine what it would be like to confide in you, reveal to you all my deepest and darkest secrets that haunt even me, and the thought doesn't seem all bad.

Sincerely,

Hermione slumped in her chair beside her dinner table. This writer talks of their feelings and the inner workings of their mind, and is seeming to be faced with a challenge. They seem deeply troubled and worrisome. And extremely protective of their mum.

She tried to recall her later years at Hogwarts. Due to a strange coping mechanism she assumed was a result of the trauma she endured, she could barely conjure any memory. However, she tried to remember any stand-offish student she'd caught staring at her more than once. There was McLaggen, of course it couldn't be because the writer had mentioned he liked watching her avoid him at the Christmas Party. So he'd been in the Slug Club, presumably. Who was in the Slug Club?

Hermione's breath got caught in her lungs as she thought of the male members, thinking of the only one it could be.

Blaise Zabini.

Of course, the challenges of being a Slytherin in their 6th and 7th years couldn't have been pleasant. And she'd heard that his mother was really the only family he'd had, and with her constantly marrying different wizards who then met their unexpected deaths, Hermione assumed that Blaise had to take on more responsibilities as the man of their household than he could handle. She assumed he didn't send the letters because he'd kept to himself for most of the years spent at Hogwarts and they were merely acquaintances. Barely even that. Or maybe it was a blood-purist thing as well.

Although, she deciphered that he was facing a challenge. What did she know of Blaise Zabini that year? If he was facing a challenge, she couldn't tell. His face was always emotionless and he carried himself quite we—

Her floo roared in the room over, making her jump immensely. Her train of thought zoomed off the tracks and she was sucked back into reality.

Ginny came into the dining room, she halted in her tracks as she set eyes on Hermione's piles of letters.

"What in the bloody hell is this? Fan mail?" She gawked, stepping forward to get a better look at the letters.

Hermione looked back at the letters and was about to start explaining, but then a realization crept up on her and her eyes bolted toward her clock. She was supposed to visit the Burrow after supper to visit, and it was now 7:30 in the evening.

"Oh, Gin, I'm so sorry. I got lost going through these and I'd forgotten I agreed to come visit this evening." She stood to hug her friend. Ginny looked away from the piles and smiled, "It's fine, George and Charlie got into some boring dragon-related debate that I assume is still going on. I was just worried when you didn't owl to tell us you couldn't make it instead."

Hermione giggled at the thought of George probably trying to bribe Charlie into lending him a dragon for the weekend for some unknown reason. "So, what are they?" Ginny asked, taking a seat next to hers.

Hermione sighed and sat down. "I received this package yesterday, and before you say anything, yes, I checked for any sign of dark magic or rough handling. Ron gave me a hard time about it, as if I wouldn't take such precautions." She rolled her eyes, "They seem to be letters, addressed to me during my later years at Hogwarts. Although, none of them are signed, nor did the package have a return address on it." She attempted to organize the messy piles into stacks.

Ginny picked up a letter from the February 1997 pile, eyeing the envelope and the wax stamp that had enclosed it. "What a peculiar thing to receive. A great puzzle you plan on solving, I presume." She smiled.

"That would be of utmost satisfaction. These letters seem rather private, and it seems as though they wrote these letters as a sort of journal entry. They also seemed to have fancied me during those years without showing it. I have some idea of who it could be, but of course I could never know for certain." She scratched her temple once again.

"Who do you think this secret admirer is?" Ginny rested her chin on the palm of her hand.

"Well, they said my dress at Slughorn's Christmas Party was astonishing, and they thought me avoiding McLaggen was quite funny. They also confessed to admiring me from a distance. So I thought of members of the Slug Club, and the only name that was left was Blaise Zabini." She nodded with tight lips.

Ginny's jaw hung slightly, "Zabini, a Slytherin who befriended and aided a Death Eater and was put on probation due to his small involvement with the Dark Lord? That's the bloke you think put effort into all of these?" Ginny hoped she was joking.

"Well I haven't gone through all the letters yet. Despite containing very personal anecdotes of their stressors and feelings, they left out any details that could clue me into who they could possibly be. They don't even mention if they're a Slytherin or not, I'm just going off of what little information they write." She leaned forward and rested her chin in both of her palms, staring at neat stacks of letters.

There was a moment of silence and Hermione felt herself slipping back into her train of thought. It could have been one of the servers at the Christmas Party just as well as it could have been Zabini, but she didn't pay much attention to the staff while she was constantly trying to get away from McLaggen. She remembered vaguely that she barely had time for socializing while planning her esca–

"Why don't you come spend the weekend at the Burrow? It'll get your mind off this. I'd heard that they're bringing in former Death Eaters to work at the Ministry, I'm sure that can't be easy to handle." Ginny reached to Hermione's arm and looked at her sympathetically. She thought on it, Ron was to be going back on Monday with Charlie, and she had been rather overwhelmed. She nodded, "That would be more that lovely."

She neatly packed the letters back into the box and packed a weekend bag, shrinking it down to fit inside her pocket before she left with Ginny and Crookshanks in her arms.

She lied awake in bed beside Ron later that night, her mind spinning the words of the letters she read earlier into a tornado. Why would Zabini fancy her? They never even exchanged one word. They didn't know each other at all. She thought of the way she'd stormed Kingsley's office just this morning and looked him in the eyes before darting to Malfoy's. Zabini's eyes looked calm, and unbothered, despite the rest of him looking zombie-like. Surely he's over this crush by now if he'd look at her that way.

Why was she even giving this a second thought? It's unlikely she would have ended up with Zabini. But the thought of someone other than McLaggen and Ron, her best friend since her first year, actually taking a liking to her from afar and being too shy to come forward gave her some what of a thrill.