Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.



Chapter Seven: Pride and Circumstance

Hermione was so used to filing and stamping the papers in the International Magical Office of Law that she was relatively certain she could have continued doing so had she fallen asleep. It was no small feat then—at least in her mind—that she was able to keep her train of thought while walking around the office and gathering the papers from the Outboxes before coming back to her desk to do what she needed to with them.

Alicia Malfoy had arrived at the Manor one week earlier, quite unannounced. She had barged right in and treated Draco like a younger brother—which to her he no doubt was. After being introduced, Hermione discovered that Alicia was Draco's aunt—i.e., Lucius' sister. The fact that such a nice woman could be so closely related to Lucius Malfoy was almost beyond Hermione. She had taken an instant liking to Alicia—after she realized that Alicia and Draco were related, of course. Not that she would have admitted to jealousy.

Alicia was currently staying a few doors down from the master suite, where her room had been maintained for her throughout her life. In a "house" the size of the Malfoys', Hermione could not say she was surprised.

Dinner was a formal affair, and Draco and Hermione sat at opposite ends of the table with Alicia in the center on Hermione's right, Draco's left. Breakfast was eaten whenever you woke up, as the house elves kept the food warm. From what Hermione could tell, Draco was up with the sun and off to work shortly after. She always woke sometime around seven in the morning and left work through the Floo on the second floor to the Ministry building. Lunch was eaten in the Ministry cafeteria, and sometimes with Ginny at the Three Broomsticks, where she had taken up a job as a waitress.

Thinking of Ginny made Hermione smile. The girl was blossoming wonderfully; pregnancy was definitely treating her well. Hermione could only hope it was the same for her… Whenever that might be, of course. Not that it would be soon—but she knew it would happen sometime in the future. Yes, in the future.

Well, at least Ginny had Neville—no, correction. At least Ginny liked Neville and hadn't spent seven years hating him and knowing the feeling was returned. At least Ginny and Neville had been in the same house during their years at Hogwarts. At least…

Hermione shook her head, trying to concentrate on the task at hand. That, however, was difficult, as she never needed to concentrate on the task. Especially since she had gotten back from her…vacation, actually. The work had seemed to be cut in half, and despite the fact that no one talked to her before, now no one talked to her at all. It seemed that conversations were ended abruptly whenever she entered hearing range, and it was starting to get on her nerves.

She knew that she had caused the stir of the year by eloping with Draco, but did everyone have to talk about it so much? And in whispers, nonetheless! Honestly! She was a grown woman—she could handle a little gossip.

It seemed no one trusted her anymore. That seemed to be the only answer, as whenever she would ask "Would you like me to do that for you?" or something like that, the answer was always "Oh, no, I can do it myself." She had no idea what could be the problem unless they didn't trust her. She used to do everything for everyone in the department. Well, except for Mr. Mason, the head. Since she had been hired, she hadn't seen him at all. He was always in his office by the time she got there, and had left before she was done with her work.

Hermione gasped as a paper airplane smacked her forehead and fell to her desk. She frowned and shook her head. She still hadn't gotten used to the stupid things, though she had to admit they were better than owls.



Hermione Granger:

Please report to Mr. Mason's office at 10:30.

- Amy Rosenbaum, Secretary to Bob Mason, Head of the International Magical Office of Law

Well. "Speak of the devil," she muttered under her breath, glancing at the clock. It was almost twenty-five after ten; she might as well head to his office.

***

"Hello, Mr. Mason," Hermione smiled nervously, standing straight as a pin, her hands behind her back.

"Please," he grinned at her, "call me Bob."

Hermione tilted her head. "Bob, then," she repeated. She wasn't entirely certain she should be calling him by his first name, but if he told her to… "What was it you wanted to speak to me about, sir?"

Bob waved a hand. "No sir, either; it makes me feel old." Glancing at a stack of papers on his rather messy desk, Bob said, "Ms. Granger—or, is it Mrs. Malfoy now?" His gray eyes twinkled at her as she gave him a small smile.

"Officially it's Ms. Granger-Malfoy, I suppose, but if I'm calling you Bob," Hermione said, taking a breath and deciding to take a figurative leap, "You should be calling me Hermione."

Bob chuckled. "Right you are, young lady. Well, then, Hermione, I called you to my office today because there have been a few certain people who have come up to me about your position in the International Magical Office of Law." Hermione's pulse sped up; surely he couldn't be firing her? "They have mentioned that you have been employed here for five and a half years at minimum wage, have never taken a vacation—minus your honeymoon, of course—and despite the many hours of overtime, have never earned more than your base salary."

Bob's face pulled into a frown. "Now, normally I don't involve myself in the smaller employees' affairs—that's for their immediate supervisors—but it appears to me that something isn't right. I don't know whether it was something your supervisor deliberately did or whether it was just a case of overlooking you, but due to your hard work, you should have been up for a promotion four years ago, and, if you had continued, again two years ago, and again this year.

"Amazingly enough, one of my junior assistants just took maternity leave, and expressed her opinion that she probably wasn't going to return. Therefore, I believe you are up for a promotion. Junior Assistant to the Head of the International Magical Office of Law, is your official title, though around here you're just going to be referred to as a J.A. This new position involves a double in your annual salary, your own office, and," he paused, smiling, "a lot of work.

"In total there are three junior assistants, including you," Bob continued, leaning forward to grab a few sheets of paper off his desk and handing them to Hermione. "If your work is satisfactory and I believe you are doing a good job, you can expect a promotion to full assistant in as little as two years. As a junior assistant, you will be expected to do a lot of what you have been doing in your previous position, but also speak with other departments' J.A.s, and sometimes—as was the case just last year—travel with me to foreign countries. This is, after all, the International Magical Office of Law. In that case, we are usually helping someone get out of prison if they've done something illegal in a foreign country. Or at least get them transferred to Azkaban.

"I think that's really all you need to know at this point. My secretary will show you to your office, and you can begin moving your supplies. Mandy, another junior assistant with whom you will be working, will show you around after lunch." Checking his watch, Bob said, "Which is right now, actually. So you can move your things after Marie explains anything I've forgotten and acquaints you with your new job. Do you have any questions?"

Hermione blinked. "No, sir," she said quietly, standing. "Thank you very much; I'll certainly work very hard. Are you sure I shouldn't just move my things now—"

"And miss lunch?" Bob raised his brows. "No, no; you can move your things after the lunch break. I hear there's a new special at the Three Broomsticks thanks to a new cook; you should try it. Off you go then?" he smiled at her.

Hermione nodded, leaving the room quickly. Simply put, she was shocked. Amazed. Astounded. She had been promoted. Not just promoted, either—she had been promoted to a position which should have taken her three separate promotions. It was almost unbelievable… And yet, why? That was the only thing that kept her from jumping up and down, screaming at the top of her lungs. Why? Why had she been promoted for the first time after five and a half years?

And her salary had been doubled?

"Ms. Granger?" The secretary asked.

Hermione blinked, the small, red-haired secretary coming into focus. "Yes?" she asked, furious with her self for losing control so quickly.

"My name is Amy; I'm Mr. Mason's secretary. Would you follow me, please? Your office is right this way," she said as she turned and walked past the entrance to Bob's office, her heels clicking on the tiled floor. She was a young woman, but obviously proud of her position. She was dressed immaculately, and, Hermione noted after glancing at her desk, was extremely neat. Down the hall, past two doors… "Third door on the left," Amy said, pushing it open. "This is your new office. If there are any problems, please do not hesitate to inform me of them. I am not only Mr. Mason's secretary, but yours and the other J.A.s as well. The full assistants have their own secretaries." Nodding, as though to assure herself she hadn't forgotten anything, Amy smiled fleetingly and disappeared out of the hall.

Hermione walked into the office. It had a window. She remembered Harry telling her that Mr. Weasley didn't have a window. She had a window.

She had a window and the thought—and sight—was almost bringing her to bits.

Shaking herself, Hermione glanced around. The office was about three meters deep and four meters wide (by her estimations at least), and had no openings beside the window and the door, which were both situated in the middle of the wall across from each other. There was a desk in the middle of the room—metal—and a chair behind it. File cabinets lined the walls to her right and left, and empty bookcases were at her back.

Hermione smiled, turning around slowly before speeding up, until she was nearly spinning, and laughed joyously.

"Hello, Hermione," a voice came from the open door.

Hermione froze. "Ron; what are you doing here?" she asked, turning to look at him. He was the same as she last remembered. The same red hair, the same freckles, the same build… Nothing seemed to have really changed.

Ron shrugged uncomfortably, glancing around the empty room. "I wanted to see how you were doing." He paused. "Nice place."

"Thanks," Hermione said shortly, "I was just promoted."

Ron nodded. "Of course," was all he said.

"Ron," Hermione repeated, "what are you doing here?"

"Can't I visit my best friend?" he asked, running a hand through his hair.

"Ron, we haven't spoken since you said you were in love with someone else," Hermione hissed at him, folding her arms defensively.

Ron flinched. "Er, yes, about that…"

"What about it?" Hermione snapped. "We're through. You made sure of that more than two years ago. Tell me why you're here before I call security."

Ron held up his hands defensively. "Hermione, calm down. I wanted to invite you to lunch, is all. I thought we could catch up, for old times' sake. I mean, Harry just got married to Parkinson, and I figured…I thought we ought to try to fix what happened between us."

Hermione looked at her former best friend. She really didn't want to talk to him because of all the hurt he'd caused her, but at the same time…

She missed him. She missed his laughter, his odd sensitivity, his near-worship of Harry, his yearning to be something for himself… "Oh, Ron," she whispered sadly. She stepped forward, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck. He hugged her in return, pecking her lightly on the forehead. "Of course I'll go to lunch with you," she whispered into his ear before pulling back to look him in the eye. She smiled, despite the fact her eyes were wet with tears.

"Hermione, don't cry…" Ron smiled shakily at her, wiping the corners of her eyes with his thumb.

She shook her head, sniffling lightly. "I'm alright. Where are we going?" she asked.

"I figured Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor would be alright," he said hesitantly. "What do you think?"

Hermione smiled, linking her arm with her best friend's. "Alright," she said. "What have you been up to lately?" she asked as they walked out into the hallway.

"Oh, this and that, really," he said slowly, watching the ground. "I'm still playing for the Chudley Cannons as Keeper; not that they're doing much better anyway, with Harry's team always beating them to the punch," he grinned, turning his head to look at her.

Hermione smiled back, feeling a twinge in the pit of her stomach as she looked at her best friend. They might have parted badly, and one part of her might still hate him for it, but to her, he was still her best friend.

***

Walking into Fortescue's, they had the kind of camaraderie one might expect from a married couple. Many of the patrons of the Parlor were older ones at this time of the year, who really had nothing more to do than sit and read about what their children and their children's children were doing in the world. It was therefore a very large surprise when Hermione Granger-Malfoy walked in on the arm of Ron Weasley, both laughing as though they had no other cares in the world.

Ron and Hermione had been a highly publicized couple when they were dating, not because of anything they had done in particular, but more because it was the best friends of Harry Potter. All of their former classmates believed it had only been a matter of time before Ron and Hermione realized they were meant for each other. The way they had fought while in school had made many sigh with wonder at how much two people could seem to be made to fit together.

It was, therefore, extremely interesting to all of the people gathered at Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor for lunch when the two walked in together. No one had expected their break-up; everyone had expected the make-up.

However, it had not happened. And now, it seemed it finally was—the only problem was the very prevalent fact that Hermione Granger was now married to Draco Malfoy.

Hermione was only partially aware of the stares she was receiving. She could feel the stares upon her, but she had no idea why she was receiving them. In many ways very much an innocent, she had never realized just how much everyone enjoyed reading about the love lives of the rich and famous—or in her case, just the famous. Or rather, now that she was married to Draco…

Oh, dash it all.

The point was, Hermione decided to ignore those who were staring at her, and concentrate on one stare only—that of her best friend, Ronald Weasley. He was, just now, explaining to her the particulars of his fellow teammates' horrid luck with the ladies. "—and he never called her again!" he finished, gesturing widely with his free hand.

Hermione giggled. She couldn't remember Ron ever telling such fun stories before. But perhaps he just hadn't known them. "Oh, Ron, that was hilarious," she gasped as they sat down at one of the booths.

"I thought you might think so," he grinned at her. He glanced up at the counter. "I'll get your lunch for you; what would you like?"

"Oh, fish and chips will be fine," Hermione said, still grinning. Letting her hand slide along his arm as he stood, she watched as he went up to the counter. He really hadn't changed much… Besides gaining quite a bit of self-confidence, that is. She wondered if that would have happened if they had stayed together…

Hermione sighed. This really wasn't the time to think about the past, but she couldn't stop thinking about it! They—whoever they were—always said that you should let the past alone and move on with your life, but the fact was, everything she did was the past. Or rather, everything she did had to do with the past. The whole thing with Draco… It wouldn't have happened if she'd never been going out with Jeff. Jeff had been the last straw. She probably would have been able to get through the money thing alright if it hadn't been for her pride. The price for catering to her pride had been high, it seemed.

Now she was eating lunch with one of her best friends. He hadn't been her best friend for a while though, not since their last failed attempt at romance.

Hermione shook it from her mind, smiling as Ron came back with the food. He'd gotten the same thing as well. "Lunch is served," he said, smiling.

"Thanks, Ron," Hermione grinned at him.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, both rather hungry after working. After Ron had made it halfway through his fish (though he hadn't yet started on the chips), he spoke. "Hermione, I wanted to talk to you about something."

Hermione raised a brow. "Well?"

"It's about this Malfoy thing," he said uncomfortably, setting his fork and knife down before leaning his head on his right hand. "I don't get it. You hated him in school, just like the rest of us, and now you're married to him!"

Hermione shifted in her seat. "It's all rather complicated," she said carefully.

Ron narrowed his eyes. "If you had said that you loved him," he said, watching her for any reaction, "I would have dropped the matter. But you're saying it's complicated, and I don't like the sound of that, Hermione."

Hermione sighed. "It, well, it is complicated, Ron. It's a very large combination of circumstances and, in the end, pride."

"Pride," Ron repeated dryly. "I don't get it. Why the devil did you marry him?!" he demanded.

"Keep your voice down," Hermione snapped, her eyes flashing as she quickly surveyed the customers. They didn't seem to be watching—but you never really knew. Taking a deep breath and unclenching her fist from her napkin, she continued. "I suppose I should start from the beginning. The only reason the possibility came about in the first place was because Lucius Malfoy, in his will, stated that the only way Draco would get his inheritance money was if he married me." At Ron's incredulous look, she elaborated, waving a hand in the air. "I'm relatively certain that Malfoy's father found out about his spying for us, and decided to 'reward' his son in the worst way possible—by marrying me. Anyway, I never would have considered it if the rent hadn't gone up and then Elizabeth, my roommate, announced that she was leaving for France in two months. I hadn't gotten a pay-raise since the minimum wage was raised, and I definitely hadn't been promoted.

"Now, I probably would have been able to get around all of that, but then… Well, not long after I broke up with you, I met Jeff. He was a Ravenclaw a few years above us at Hogwarts, and works at the Ministry now. I met him at one of those galas they're always holding nowadays." Hermione sighed, picking at the fish with her fork. "We dated for almost two and a half years. I thought…" She sniffed, holding a hand up to her eyes, trying to contain her tears. "I thought he loved me, and I know I loved him."

Ron came around the table, knelt in front of her and took her in his arms where she began to sob. "I'm sorry," she whispered, knowing she was getting his robes wet and that she was making a scene. Ron just said "Shh," and continued rubbing her back. After she got control of her tears, she sighed, pulling back.

"Thank you," she whispered. "I haven't had the chance to tell anyone about it yet." She shrugged, looking at the ceiling. "I mean, I thought that he loved me… But the day after the reading of the will, I was coming back from the Burrow—I was visiting Ginny—and I decided to stop by his house." She took a deep breath, looking back at Ron, who was still kneeling in front of her. "He was cheating on me, Ron," she whispered. Though her eyes filled with tears again, this time she was able to blink them back. "And I lost it. I said that it was no big deal he was cheating on me, since I'd been doing the same and was getting married to Draco Malfoy anyway. It was a split-second decision, but I couldn't back down again." Hermione laughed bitterly. "I suppose that's the price for pride, isn't it?"