~ All There Ever Was ~
Author: Bachy A
E-Mail: screenwriter7@msn.com
Website: www.remnant-archive.0catch.com
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter...neither do I own J.K. Rowling. I don't own Warner Brothers – basically, I own nothing even closely related to Harry Potter. This story is meant to be pure fiction created by me using the characters of this series.
SPOILERS: Nothing other than my own stuff in this chapie! ;-)
UPDATES: Things start to make more sense here – you'll begin to understand what kind of situation the wizarding world is in after Harry's graduation from Hogwarts. Enjoy!
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Chapter 3: Those Times Gone By
Activity bustled within the Ministry of Magic – bodies traversed the gleaming floors, a constant murmur of acknowledgment and the occasional conversation passing between them.
It no longer seemed to matter which branch of the Ministry officials belonged to – Departments of Wizarding Sports, Mysteries, Accidental Charms and Muggle Artifacts...every one of them seemed to have the same singular purpose, now....
"Mr. Weasley? The Mistress will see you now."
Ron's reverie fell away as the young secretary's voice floated through the stuffy air. Standing, he nodded, gesturing for her to lead the way.
Deftly moving through the crowd, the secretary headed for the far north end of the main floor. Ron, not having as easy a time navigating the sea of bodies, pushed his way through.
Shortly, he arrived at a large wooden door, in front of which the secretary stood. On the center of the door hung an engraved bronze plaque that read:
MISTRESS OF MAGICThe secretary held her arm out, inviting his entrance. He straightened his robes slightly as he moved forward. Opening the enormous door, he stepped into the office.
~{:*:}~
The office hadn't changed much since the days of Cornelius Fudge. The ancient oak desk still resided in the exact center of the room; bookshelves packed to the brim still stood against each of the four walls; two enormous windows lay on either side of the room, letting the sun's light stream in...
...Indeed, only one thing had transformed since those years, so long ago...
...The person to whom the office now belonged...
Ron allowed himself a small grin as her watched Hermione at the desk, the one that she had practically called home. His grin widened further upon seeing her brow furrowed in its familiar state of conversation, stacks of paperwork shadowing her face.
She was still the same old Hermione, the Hermione he had always known.
It took a moment before she finally realized that he was standing in front of her desk. She glanced up briefly before returning to the load of paper in front of her.
"Yes Ron, what is it?" she asked tersely.
The brusque tone of her voice surprised him – there was no "Hi Ron, how are you?" or "Great to see you Ron."
Simply "What is it?"
He knew how it had always been – he knew that Hermione had always been a bossy individual. But these days...indeed, for all the reasons he saw to the contrary, she no longer seemed to be the Hermione that he had always known.
Distracted, he gazed up at an enormous chart pinned to the wall. On it was the current hierarchy of the Ministry of Magic. Currently, however, hierarchy seemed to mean little – no longer did heads or members of departments stick with that same department...a time of war had changed all that.
"Ron...?"
Her voice quickly removed him from his reverie. He reached inside his robes and pulled out a piece of parchment. Unrolling it, he gently placed it on her desk.
"This is a list of those Death Eaters we suspect were involved in Martin Whitehald's murder. I've sent Lee and Peter out – I expect them to report back in a couple of days...we ought to know for sure by then..."
Hermione took the outstretched parchment and gazed at it briefly. Nodding, she set it down and went back to the paperwork in front of her.
Ron continued to stand before the desk, eying his friend with a visage that did not attempt to hide his concern.
Hermione scribbled a few notes before stopping, realizing that he was still there. She glanced up at him.
"Is there anything else?"
The unease on his face grew. Even in her worst moments, the times when she was
most bossy and controlling, Hermione had never been like this...not to
him, at least.
He understood that wartime did strange things to people, but even so...
Looking back up at her friend, realization quickly set in on Hermione's face. She sighed heavily and gave a sad half-smile.
"I'm sorry, Ron. Really, I am...It's just all been so much lately."
She stood up and began to pace, rather aimlessly, gesturing at certain odds and ends along the way.
"The Johnson's have been gone for three weeks, and we've heard neither head nor tail from them, and O'Conner still hasn't been tracked down, although I was assured that we were closer than before, and besides, I'm concerned that we aren't making enough progress with interrogating the Death Eaters that we have captured..."
A slight chuckle brought her rant to an abrupt stop. Her brow furrowed slightly as she crossed her arms huffily.
"No, Hermione," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "I only meant...when was the last time you got out?"
An appalled look crossed Hermione's face, as if that was the most absurd question she had ever heard.
"Out!?! Ron, there is a war going on! There are a million and more things to do every single day! I don't have time to..."
Another chuckle silenced her. She stared daggers at him, her mouth hanging open slightly.
"Ron!! It is not a laughing matter..."
Shaking his head, a large smile on his face, Ron sat in one of the chairs that lay in front of the large desk.
"Hermione, you have to get away from this...even if just for a little while. Look at what this job is doing to you! It's not healthy."
Hermione shook her head slightly, but some air of resignation lay on her face.
"I don't know what you mean..."
"You have circles under your eyes! The guards say you leave here extremely late, only to come back a couple of hours later! You're trying to do everything yourself...!"
Hermione opened her mouth, as if to refute such ridiculous claims...then stopped.
He was right...he was so right...
"Hermione," he began, concern in his voice, "I know very well that your greatest concern right now is You Know Who."
He stood up and walked over to one of the large windows in the rear of the office. He stared at the crowds of people passing by for a moment...
"All those people out there...Muggles and Wizards alike...they're all depending on you, Hermione. They need you, whether they know it or not, to make the best decisions you can make."
He turned to face her again.
"And you cannot possibly do satisfy those demands when you bury yourself in as much work as possible..."
He walked closer to her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"You can't carry the weight of everything all by yourself."
A tremendous, yet silent, sigh seemed to leave her. She reached up and rubbed her eyes. Blinking softly, she let them fall to the surface of the desk.
"I guess you're right, Ron..."
Ron smiled slightly, allowing himself to enjoy the moment through the tension of it all. Ever since they had been kids, it had been terribly difficult to best Hermione at any sort of argument.
It was a battle well won.
Hermione stood and walked back to the same window where Ron had stood moments before. A weak laugh escaped her lips.
"It has been a long time..."
Ron's smile grew wider. He glanced up at an hourglass that hung on the wall, and then back at Hermione.
"Come on, it's late enough. Let me take you to dinner."
She turned to face him. Slowly, she nodded.
"Alright, Ron."
He smiled again. He stood, grabbing her cloak off of its stand and helping her put it on.
As he walked side to side with her, he noticed that the cares and concerns of the present situation still lingering on her face.
He had to try...he had to do his best to bring her through this.
He knew that, before the end, she would be greatly needed...
...and he had no intention of letting anything happen to her before that time...
~{:*:}~
The restaurant was an edifice that had been attached to the Ministry's main floor, its central purpose being to provide important Ministry officials with a place to eat (without being bothered by the common populace).
The gleaming interior of the restaurant matched that found in all parts of the Ministry. Service people bustled here and there, taking orders from the sparse Ministry crowd that actually bothered to come down.
Ron glanced at his menu quickly before putting it down – he had little need to look at it...having been here many times before, he had practically memorized its contents.
Hermione sat across from him, her own menu lain down on the table. She seemed to continually be bombarded with greetings from other Ministry officials – they were constantly giving their praise to her.
Ron allowed himself a small smile. The battle for Mistress of Magic had been a hard one, one that had definitely taken its toll on Hermione. At every turn, it had seemed like there was someone else, someone new trying to tear her down.
But that had never slowed her down – Muggle-born or not, she had been determined to enter the office to which she aspired...
And in the end, that fiery determinism had won out. She had accomplished the work of a lifetime, all at the age of 20.
His smile grew wider as he remembered the day when the news had come in: she had beaten her nearest opponent by 2% of the total vote. It had been a narrow victory, but a victory nonetheless.
No one could possibly deny that the best person for the job had won.
That day had been a special one: all the laughter, the partying; Ron, Hermione, and Harry together...
The smile quickly slipped off of Ron's face. Harry...
It was so easy to add Harry's name – for so long, that was how it had been. The three of them together.
But now...
Thinking about Harry was too great a pain to bear...
"Ron?"
He quickly looked up, the sound of her voice ending the thoughts that had been floating through his head. Upon seeing the concern she displayed, he shook his head and smiled, warding off whatever suspicions had been going through her.
She smiled back.
"Thanks for bringing me here, Ron."
"No problem, Hermione."
The abruptness of the conversation caused them both to giggle slightly.
Hermione brushed a lock of her cinnamon hair away from her face, her smile brighter than he had seen it in a long time.
"You know, Ron........"
He waited, but her eyes had suddenly left him. They were locked on something behind him, something that had caused her mouth to drop slightly.
Twisting around in his seat, he couldn't spot exactly what she was looking at...
...until...
He saw him, sitting there, by himself. Even shadowed by the darkness, he was still recognizable: his unruly black hair, his perfectly round glasses...every bit of it screamed him.
Ron saw him reach down, into the folds of his robes, and pull out a hip flask. Seeing him take a long swig, Ron got a better look at his face...and nearly fell out of his chair.
The same features were still there, but compared to his face, Hermione looked more perfect than she ever had. His face was paler than it had once been, the formerly emerald eyes now clouded and devoid of meaning.
The happiness, the innocence...the courage that had once stood on that face had long since faded into a dull façade, leaving no trace of what had once been.
Turning back around, Ron glanced at Hermione...
...The shock and surprise in her face had led to something far deeper. Her chin quivered as a single tear fell from her eye.
Ron moved forward slightly, trying to comfort her, when she stood suddenly. Grabbing her cloak, she rushed off, heading towards the exit.
Ron stood, meaning to go after his friend. With one look back, he saw him there, still, as if nothing had changed.
Whipping around, he headed for the door, hoping he could reach Hermione in time.
~{:*:}~
Back in the now deserted main lobby, he heard the clacking of high heels off to his left. Sure enough, he saw her, running down the marble stairwell.
His legs being much longer than hers, he caught up to her in just a few moments. Grabbing her arm, he spun her around to face him...
"Hermione..."
He looked with horror to see more tears sparkling in her eyes. He moved forward, and stopped with a shake of her head.
A small cry escaped her lips as the remaining tears began to fall. She looked back up at him.
"I'm s-sorry, Ron..."
Without another gesture, she disapparated, leaving him with only a small pop.
He shook his head, sadness beginning to take him again.
His only friend in the world had been hurt, so much that she had found it hard to look at him...
...all because of the man he had once called friend...
He turned, walking back towards the exit...thoughts flooding his mind.
He knew one thing to be sure...it would take an incredible amount to forgive the crimes of Harry Potter...
...but it would take more than a lifetime to forget the pain he had brought to them all...
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A/N: Oooh, kinda cliffy! Oh well, that means you'll be back, right? *sob* :)
Hermione512: Thanks for being the very first reviewer of this story. I hope I can please you with the continuation of this story.
MlynnBloom: I would be extremely honored to have your wonderful reviews at every chapter – to have you say that my writing smacks of the HP books themselves is a tremendous compliment. I do try to please – thanks so much. :)
A.L.T2: Hey, thanks for believing in my story. Sorry it's been a while since an update, but school is killer. You know how it is...thanks again!
Lily: Thanks for your review! If you like the opening chapters (where, let's be honest, not a whole lot happens except for plot set up), it is my hope you will like later ones.
Emerald Prongs: I'm really happy you like my fic – it certainly means a lot. Oh, and as to Harry and his dream? Well, you'll just have to wait and find out...trust me, though, it isn't one of those pointless, "filler" dreams – it has meaning... ;)