Today was the day. Surely, today had to be the day.
Hermione Granger had been a model employee for the Department for Magical Creature Regulation, Beast division, for six years; she was never late, rarely took a sick day, and always met project deadlines. Certainly, she was one of the Departments' top performers, and yet she had been passed over for two promotions within the last six years.
She had never expressed her displeasure when Warren Hemingault had been chosen to handle the underground basilisk farming investigation over her, though she thought herself to be much more qualified. She had smiled and congratulated him after the staff meeting in which he got the assignment, but then seethed over the injustice later that evening.
Upon its completion, he had been promoted and was now recognized as a basilisk expert at the Ministry. Warren was her senior, but he had never even seen a basilisk before his assignment (nor had he ever been petrified by one and lived to tell the tale). He certainly had never harvested basilisk fangs for the sake of destroying a Horcrux. And yet, he got the assignment Hermione had wanted and the recognition she wished for. To this day the thought of the situation made her mouth taste of ash.
A year after Warren became the basilisk expert, Padma Patil got promoted for her Snidget conservation efforts. An important cause to preserve the species, but Hermione knew Padma's promotion had been a kick-back from the Ministry as a way of thanking her for all the publicity (and the sizeable donation made toward the efforts by Padma's quidditch-playing girlfriend and her team) rather than awarding her based on merit. Hermione had thought her work relocating two meddlesome ghoul brothers from the London Underground had been much more impressive. Unfortunately, it was just a less popular story.
Immediately following the Patil promotion, the Ministry went on a budgetary freeze due to the Wizengamot elections. Hermione had found herself at a career standstill, much to her disgruntlement. Patience was a virtue she did not possess, longing for the gratification that alluded her at work. She was so sick of waiting that she had decided to seize the day and go after what she wanted. For weeks she had been planning her approach and manifesting her intentions with a single phrase written, chanted, and thought over and over and over again: carpe diem.
Today was her day for seizing; it was the day. If she wasn't going to get the recognition she deserved, then she was going to demand it. Her inner lioness had been in full strength when she had worked through many strategies for confronting her boss. Finally settling on a direct request for a promotion, backed by some highlights of her best work with the DMCR that she had put together brochure-style and tucked into her briefcase the night previous.
A delightfully warm breeze filtered in through the bedroom window of her fourth-floor flat, rousing her from slumber as the first rays of light began to peek over the horizon. She sat up with a deep breath, blinking several times as she began to awaken her senses. Aromas of toasted hazelnut wafted along the breeze as her coffeemaker chimed melodically. She raked her fingers through the roots of her hair, absentmindedly noting that it seemed to be less tangled than usual.
Rising from her bed, Hermione brought her arms up to stretch out her always-stiff-in-the-morning back. It cracked satisfyingly as each vertebra shifted back into place and she noted that she felt better than usual. Aches and pains had been her daily norm since the war had ended; normal wear and tear for a war heroine, she would reassure herself on her worst days. The surprising reprieve from her usual accompaniment of nerve pain further solidified that today would be different somehow. She could feel it in her body and in the springtime breeze that tossed frizzy wisps of chestnut-colored locks away from her face. Taking a deep breath to calm her anticipation, Hermione crossed through the living room of her studio apartment to execute her normal morning routine.
While fixing herself a bit of toast, she flicked her wand toward her wardrobe, which had been a flat-warming gift from Ginny. The wardrobe was charmed to pick the outfit that would "best serve her day." Never being the one to pay attention to fashion, it saved Hermione time in the morning and 'a load of embarrassment' according to Ginny.
Today the enchanted wardrobe had chosen something Hermione considered to be cold weather wear: fitted black slacks with a skinny ankle, a white, long-sleeve button-up with gold pins on the collar, and a green tartan blazer. She quirked an eyebrow at the jacket questionably, as the Bristol air felt unseasonably pleasant. She was, however, going to be commuting to the Ministry and hadn't a clue what the forecast was in London. Shrugging, she stowed the blazer in her briefcase after quickly dressing and slipping on her usual pair of black oxfords to complete the look.
She brushed and flossed her teeth and they somehow felt cleaner than they usually did after her dental care routine, the spearmint of her toothpaste leaving her mouth with a satisfying tingle. Only a daughter of two dentists could appreciate such a feeling, she mused to herself before a pang of sadness curled into her chest. Taking a deep breath, Hermione dismissed her guilt and grief with a quick shake of her head. A thought for later, she promised herself whilst pushing her Mum and Dad to the back of her mind as she did frequently when she didn't have the proper time or space to grieve those she'd lost.
Before heading out the door, she donned her mothers' wristwatch as a token of good luck. Hermione hoped that today was going to be career-changing for her. If not, at least she would be on time. But carrying a bit of her Mum with her, Hermione knew love and luck would be on her side.
Having woken with the rising sun, Hermione had ample time for her commute to the Ministry. She decided to take the train to London rather than her usual choice to apparate. Thinking of her parents had made her feel a bit nostalgic and she hoped being surrounded by muggles would stave off the melancholy threatening the lovely start to her day.
She settled into a window seat, happily allowing her thoughts to wander as the towns skirting London rolled by in a blur of grey buildings and green landscape. As was her practice when she started feeling bitter about the injustices that happened during the war, Hermione began to count all the things she was grateful for.
First, always what came to mind first, was Harry and Ginny. They had used to be separate items but were so seldom apart that it didn't make sense to take up two numerals for the friends that were her family.
Harry: her best friend since first year. They had shared so many things together that none else could understand; enough bonding experiences to last them a lifetime. Hermione thought of Harry as a brother and while they didn't always see eye-to-eye, she knew he always had her back (even though she was the one saving his arse time and time again).
Ginny's marriage to Harry had brought the girls closer than ever. In fact, Ginny was probably one of the only women Hermione counted as a true friend. She served to keep Hermione grounded, giving her a good dose of reality and bringing her back down to Earth when Hermione's ambition and goals became astronomical and all-consuming.
Much of Hermione's youth had been spent focusing on all things Harry Potter, but now she had Ginny to keep an eye on him. It was strange at first, but it was such a relief for Hermione to be less focused on Harry and more focused on herself. She was certainly not the best at putting herself first, but it was something she was beginning to prioritize, especially after wasting ten years playing second fiddle to Ronald Weasley.
Which brought Hermione to point two on her grateful list: she was so incredibly grateful to have severed any and all romantic ties with Ron three years ago. They had given dating a shot after the war. At first, the thrill of victory had their relationship at an all-time high; virginities were lost, proclamations of love made. Then they had been each others' support while burying the fallen and through the rebuilding process. After all that, it was time to resume life as normal adults, whatever that looked like.
Hermione had been able to take steps to move on by taking her NEWTs and procuring employment, while Ron was very much stuck wallowing in a pit of depression. Hermione had tried to play the role of supportive and nurturing girlfriend, but quickly felt she was taking on the role of a nagging mother. He refused to do any house chores (even with the use of magic) and would spend all his free time in front of the telly either watching muggle programs or playing Playstation. To his credit, Ronald had stepped up into a partner role at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes to fill the hole left by the death of Fred, but it didn't do much to help him with moving on.
Filling the shoes not meant for him, Ron was (in so many ways) not the perfect match for George that Fred had been. Ron began to put a lot of pressure on himself; so much so that after a long day at the joke shop his energy was too depleted to put much effort into their relationship. Hermione did everything for him: made his appointments, cleaned their apartment, did all the laundry, cooked meals, packed him lunches for work, did gift shopping for family events and celebrations they were invited to… all while he punched the clock at the joke shop and came home to his preferred pastimes: telly and video games. Often Hermione would go to bed alone hours before she would be joined and subsequently woken up by Ronald, only to proceed with a few minutes of unsatisfactory fucking... if he was lucky.
Perhaps she should have cared more for all he was dealing with inside, but she too had her demons that she dealt with… alone. Her patience and understanding waned a bit each day under the siege of her growing annoyance until a deep bitterness had settled in her heart. She grew to resent Ron for not being the man she hoped he would be and for not giving her the type of relationship she wanted.
Before she started to hate him as a person - which was on the horizon of her mind with storm clouds pushing the prospect closer and closer to shore with each minor irritant of each passing day - Hermione left him. It was rather cruel how she went about it, actually. She could only imagine the look of shock across his freckled face when he came home from work that night to their flat mostly empty, no trace of her left behind besides a note saying 'This is for the best… I'm sorry.'
Though she regretted how she ended things, Hermione never once regretted breaking Ron's heart (despite the backlash she received from each Weasley beside Ginny, the only one who cared to know her side of things). Hermione knew at the time that she would be happier if she focused on herself for a while, which translated into overworking to try and land the career she dreamed of… hoping that would bring her the sense of fulfillment and purpose she lacked in her personal life.
She kept up with her friends, of course, which brought up points three, four, and five on her grateful list.
Number three, Neville and Luna Longbottom; her dear friends had married after the war and taken up posts at Hogwarts as Professors of Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures, respectively. They had come to the stage in life where marriage and children were prevalent, which pushed Hermione further and further from her circle. But despite her inability to relate to her friends on a domestic front, she never missed a celebration or a get-together.
Number four, Padma and Parvati Patil; with twins, there was no one without the other. Hermione worked with Padma and despite her jealousy over the former Ravenclaw's position in the Ministry rankings, camaraderie had grown between them. By being Padma's "work bestie", she had also rekindled her friendship with her former housemate, Parvati. Hermione lived vicariously through the twins, liking to be entertained by the stories of the twins' wild escapades in the professional Quidditch social circle. They had invited Hermione frequently, but she often declined due to hoping to avoid one particular player with whom she had an unsavory past.
Stepping outside her routine circle of friends, brought Hermione to the fifth item on her grateful list: Andr-
The train suddenly jerked to a stop in London, interrupting Hermione from finishing her grateful list. Still feeling a tinge of upset, she added a mental note to finish her mental exercise of gratitude later. Unboarding the train and finding an inconspicuous corner to apparate from, Hermione was off to another day at the Ministry.
Hermione was met with a buzz of excitement as she entered the DMCR. What was usually a rather quiet department, save for the creature or two that might be present in the office, was alive with energy. She had to duck as a flock of interdepartmental memos flew past her head like arrows shot from a bow, which did little to calm her curiosity.
"G'Morning," Padma sang from the other side of their shared cubicle, "Happy census summer," she laughed sardonically.
Hermione furrowed her brow at the brunette, "The Ministry is having another census… Didn't they hold one after the war?"
"Ah, for wizards and witches to determine casualties-" Padma cleared her throat uncomfortably. Knowing that Hermione had suffered more tragedy as a result of the Second Wizarding War than most, it was seldom anyone would broach the topic with her as if she were delicate and sensitive like a newborn unicorn foal.
"And this census…" Hermione trailed off, her chocolate brown orbs scanning the state of the department around her, "will include a count of magical creatures?"
"Brightest witch of our age!" Padma teased, confirming Hermione's hypothesis.
Hermione remained quiet for a moment as she took her seat, her mind beginning to break down the work that would be needed to accomplish such a huge undertaking. At her side, Padma waved a large file in front of her face.
"Earth to Hermione," the former Ravenclaw giggled, tossing the manilla folder onto Hermione's desk, "I grabbed your assignment for you when I picked up mine. As the technical expert on Snidgets, I am fortunate enough to have my census assignment already complete." She announced smugly.
It took everything in Hermione's power to not roll her eyes at the smugness of her coworker. Of course, the Snidget count had been simple to complete, they all lived in one of four conservation sites across the United Kingdom. Hermione pursed her lips, hoping she landed an interesting assignment that would require more finesse than muggle primary school math skills. She braced herself before pulling out her assignment summary sheet. Scanning it over quickly, Hermione's eyebrows shot up onto her forehead as she jumped from her chair, "I've been assigned The Forbidden Forest!" She exclaimed excitedly, wide eyes scanning through the details provided for her.
Padma let out a low whistle, "Wow, talk about a huge responsibility. That's the type of assignment that could get you promoted to Beast expert."
Hermione grinned, her mind beginning to swim with the possibilities that lay before her. She gathered a few items from her desk, her intentions of asking for a promotion flying away as quickly as the memos flying overhead.
One such paper airplane took a nosedive toward her. Hermione made to dodge the folded parchment, but only saved her face from the assault as the airplane nestled into her mess of frizz and curls.
The note hovered in front of her as it unfolded itself whilst she flattened her hair quickly. It was from her boss: 'You've been gifted this assignment. Prove yourself, catalog everything. I know you won't let me down.'
Hermione vanished the note quickly, gathering her briefcase in a whirl of excitement, her mind already hundreds of miles away.
"Where are you going?" Padma quirked an eyebrow at the former Gryffindor, watching in amusement as she could tell the wheels were already turning in Hermione's mind.
"No time to explain," she chided her coworker. "I've got to go pack! Do apologize to Parvati for me, will you? I'll be missing girl's night for quite some time."
Padma stood, confusion etched upon her dark features. "When will you be back?"
"End of summer probably!" Hermione called out as she hastily left her cube, quickly retreating to give her friend a quick hug. "See you in September!"
The Forbidden Forest was as dark and gloomy as ever. Though spring was in full swing and the sun would be shining brightly for a few more hours, the thick canopy had shrouded most light, allowing only a few rays to penetrate the web of leaf-covered branches above. Under the trees, it was cold enough for Hermione to see wisps of her own breath as she hiked along the southernmost ridge in search of a suitable campsite. Her wardrobe had been spot on, she mused, as she donned her tartan blazer to fight off the chill.
The woods around her were eerily quiet. She could hear the faint hum of lacewing flies and the occasional croak of a toad in the distance. From what little reliable information Hermione had gathered on the Forbidden Forest, she had determined that her location near the southeastern ridge would be the safest place for her to camp. She was a respectable distance from the centaur territory and far enough away from the main water source that she shouldn't find herself disrupting the vital travels of the creatures in the forest.
Knowing all this information did little to calm her nerves. Despite her best planning based on what the Ministry considered facts, her guard was as high as it had been during her time camping during Horcrux hunts.
Wand drawn at the ready, Hermione began to take note of the Dark Forest. Her job for the census was simple: count the creatures living there. Hermione, of course, knew that she would have to do something much more impressive than a simple inventory if she wanted her promotion. Certainly, there had been some type of subtext in the note from her superior. She began to let her mind wander as she trudged through the thick undergrowth toward Moon-Gazer Clearing, a decidedly neutral zone within the forest.
After the Battle of Hogwarts, the Ministry had liberally expanded the centaur herd of the Forbidden Forests' land, as gratitude for fighting off the Death Eaters. The Beasts had known this would come to fruition, of course, as the stars themselves had foretold it. For the sake of unity and continued peace, the centaurs had outlined Moon-Gazer Clearing as a violence-free zone where all were welcome to read the stars. Hermione figured it must have been the furthest plottable clearing from the herd and that allowing visitors there would throw centaur-enthusiasts off the scent of their actual home, helping to maintain the privacy and secrecy the Beasts preferred.
It only took Hermione an hour to set up camp, having had ample opportunities to gain efficiency in the process through the year she spent with Harry and Ron on the run, hunting for Horcruxes. She shuddered, a chill creeping in under her blazer either from the now-setting sun or the thought of the climactic year leading up to the end of the Second Wizarding War. The anxiety, the pain, and the losses threatened her consciousness once more.
She sat herself upon a log at the edge of the fire, allowing her mind to drift as she watched the flames dance atop the wood, and clinging to any thought besides anything to do with war. She could finish her grateful list now, right where she had left off on the tube.
Number five: Andromeda Tonks. She had become something like a mother figure to Hermione after the war. After losing her husband, her daughter, and her son-in-law, Andromeda had been left to care for the young metamorphmagus, Teddy Lupin. At first, Hermione had merely offered to babysit Teddy once a week to give her a break from the responsibilities of caring for a magical infant. Quickly the situation had evolved where the Tonks/Lupin household became Hermione's refuge. Her weekly visits had turned into twice-weekly visits turned into weekends staying there. When Hermione had left Ron, it was Andromeda who took her in until she got back on her own two feet. Their relationship wasn't always easy, as Andromeda was kind but full of expectations, but in a way, she reminded Hermione of her own Mother.
Her chest tightened painfully.
Item six on the list: the Death Eaters were gone. Dead, all of them. No second chances, no clemency. A Dementors' Kiss was the sole fate of each that had been marked by Lord Voldemort.
Well, perhaps that wasn't entirely true. Out of all the bodies found after the end of the war, one particular marked man was missing. Well... missing: presumed dead. After all, there was no way someone like Draco Malfoy could disappear for almost six years and still be alive.
No, Hermione laughed to herself. Malfoy could never survive on the fringe, responsible for his own care for six years without getting caught. Malfoy Manor had been seized by the Ministry after the war: Draco had never gone there, the wards did not detect his presence since the May before the downfall of Voldemort. Without access to his Manor or Gringotts vault, Malfoy would have been out there with nothing. Surely he wouldn't be able to survive without house elves, eagle owl feather quills, and gold-encrusted tea sets. The Ministry was certain that he had passed in the fighting at the Battle of Hogwarts, claiming his body must have been one of the unrecognizable that they found, mottled by curses or burned from fiendfyre.
She forced herself to believe it, for the opposite was far too difficult to believe. Surely no sane person wanting redemption and acceptance in the new society would dare harbor him. Pureblood society had up-ended after the war; a more blended bloodline and tolerable outlook becoming favored by social elitists. A war heroine and proud muggleborn, Hermione often found herself in the limelight, but she shied away each time… those people didn't care for her, only the status she could bring them. That fact disgusted Hermione almost as much as blood supremacy.
A wolf howled in the distance, pulling Hermione from her thoughts.
It couldn't have been a werewolf with sixteen days until the next full moon. How curious, she thought. Wolves were not known to inhabit the Forbidden Forest; magical beasts posed too much competition for food, usually driving mammals far from the enchanted woods. But the cry was clear, unmistakable, and set Hermione on edge. The peace treaty was only valid with magical creatures… having to protect herself from a wild animal was not something she had accounted for.
Every rustle of the trees in the April breeze heightened her senses. The light in the Moon-Gazer Clearing was too bright, leaving her too exposed. Anxiously, she snuffed out her campfire and retreated to her tent, placing Notice-Me-Not wards. She laid awake that night, ears sharply searching for the sound of approaching animals. Several times she swore she heard something, but each startle was a false alarm... her mind simply playing tricks on her.
Exhaustion had taken over her at some point during the night, lulling her into a short and unrestful sleep. When she woke, Hermione found her camp completely undisturbed, the embers of the fire still glowing faintly. No signs of animal life, magical or mammal, had been near her tent. Hermione sighed, of course, she had been worried about nothing… as was so much her nature.
She set to making herself breakfast. With a flick of her wand, the flames burst to life and a copper kettle hovered over them, brewing a fresh pot of Earl Grey. A cast-iron skillet followed shortly behind, slices of bacon sizzling within. She retreated to the tent to grab her eggs, which she feared were too delicate to summon with an accio.
When Hermione returned to the fire, she immediately noticed something was amiss. Two brown eggs slipped from her fingers, falling to the forest floor with a sickening crack, yolks splashing against the empty cast-iron skillet that lay sizzling at the edge of the fire, devoid of the bacon that had been cooking there moments ago. Next to the skillet were a set of fresh paw prints. Her eyes whipped around the periphery of Moon-Gazer clearing, searching for the thief. A rustle in the nearby undergrowth caused her to pull her wand… and that was when she saw it.
There, fifty yards from her stood a great, white wolf.
It licked its flews menacingly, seeming to make eye contact with her for just a moment. Hermione thought it had shifted its gaze to her wand before making a hasty retreat. She lost sight of the white fur as it bounded into the Dark Forest beyond. She stood dumbstruck for a moment until the sharp cry of the kettle sounded, causing her to jump.
Hermione stared at the tracks while she sipped her tea, reckoning the close encounter with the wolf in her mind, trying to reason how the wolf had gotten in and out of her camp so quickly. It must have slipped into the clearing when she went back to the tent, but she had only been in there for a moment and surely would have heard the animal approach. How did it manage to get the hot skillet off the fire anyway? Certainly, she would have heard the clang of metal when the skillet had fallen or some sound of injury when the animal contact the scalding pan...
That was when she noticed a small discrepancy amongst the otherwise uniform marks, one that set her mind reeling with the possibilities of what it could possibly mean… the paw print closest to the skillet had five toes.