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*AN* Hello again everyone. I'm so sorry for the extremely overdue update. I've had this chapter saved for well over a year, but after going through what has been a hell of a time, my constant need to perfect the chapter ended up with my losing all nerve to actually post it. I also thought that because I couldn't be consistent with updates that I should wait and write several chapters before posting the next one so that there's less wait in-between. Unfortunately, my new job absolutely does not allow for that much spare time and it didn't work out that way, so I decided to post it anyway and just tell myself that I will be more conscientious of posting in the future. Because I really, really do want to finish this story!
Anyway, here it is! I'm sure it wasn't worth the wait, but I hope it isn't too disappointing. Also, it was longer but I decided to reserve the next part for Ch.11 so it isn't too long.
Happy reading!
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The bustling streets of Diagon passed her by most uneventfully, just as Hermione had hoped. She kept her head down and her pace quick so that any nosy shoppers wouldn't have enough time to catch a glimpse under her hood. She had opted to first visit Mr. Mulpepper's, a rather disused apothecary, as most shoppers favoured ready-made potions from J. Pippins.
She'd had the marvellous idea that she could place an order with the owner for her ingredients to be delivered to her flat, further to her attempts at avoiding people where possible. Unfortunately, she ended up marginally disappointed when the owner rebuffed her request.
"I'm ever so sorry, Miss Granger," he had said, "due to the fragility of your requested ingredients, it would be dangerous for the owls to-"
"It's fine then, I'll place the order for collection."
And it was fine, she supposed. She could handle visiting once a month. A quick in and out, job done. Realistically, barely anyone bothered brewing their own potions besides students , so it was unlikely that she'd see anyone she knew in or around there.
Once outside the shop, she wandlessly shrunk her purchases and slid them into her pocket as she marched down the street to Sugarplum's, where she bought a 24 pack of Chocolate Frogs for Malfoy and indulged in few Sugar Quills and some Tooth-flossing Stringmints for herself.
She had one more stop to make for Malfoy's books before she could finally retreat into the anonymity of Muggle London to purchase his requested- or rather, demanded- new bedsheets.
"I want silk sheets Granger, decent ones," He'd ordered. "Honestly, I'm surprised those cheap and nasty cotton mostrosities haven't peeled my skin off yet."
She giggled quietly at her hopefulness in that notion as she rounded the corner to enter Flourish Blotts. Thankfully, the store wasn't hugely packed, so Hermione freely browsed through a few titles she thought Malfoy might like. Not that she cared whether he particularly liked them or not, and he had failed to give any specifics as to what he might want anyway, so she could only do her best.
If he didn't like it, he could lump it, quite frankly.
Satisfied with her choices, Hermione paid for her purchases and stacked the books high in her hands. Not a moment after she exited the shop, she forcefully collided into someone with a hard thud, sending her books clattering to the street.
Hermiones face heated and she pulled down her hood, immediately bending down to gather her books, trying to avoid any rubber-necking from passersby.
"I'm-I'm so so sorry, I... I wasn't looking and-"
"Hermione?"
She stilled momentarily before looking up into the curious face of Ernie Macmillan.
"Oh.. Oh, Ernie! I didn't realise it was you! I- uh, I-"
Ernie crouched down and began helping her gather her books. "It's quite alright Hermione. I might've realised it was you. Who else could it be, crashing into me with an overbearing load of books?" he chuckled heartily.
Hermione's face pinched at his comment. "Right. Anyway, I'm sorry for running into you. I'd best be off." She stood up from the pavement, rejigged her hold on the books and resecured her hood when Ernie manouvered himself into her path.
"Actually, Hermione, do you have five minutes? I wondered if we might take a walk. Have a chat?"
Hermione raised a brow in question of Ernie's motives. She flicked her eyes nervously about the crowded streets, relieved that no-one other than Ernie seemed to have spotted her in spite of the spectacle she'd just made of herself. Though this didn't assuage her fear of being spotted, and didn't want to hang around Diagon any longer than necessary and risk that changing. Hermione also didn't want to seem rude or dismissive toward Ernie, however, she also had an uncomfortable feeling beyond her desire not to be seen. It more concerned Ernie and his request for a chat.
"Hermione?"
"Er, sorry." she turned back to face Ernie. She'd let the silence linger too long now to be socially acceptable for her response to be anything other than "Yes, I suppose I can spare five minutes."
"Great!" Ernie replied enthusiastically. He gestured down the street towards The Leaky Cauldron. "Shall we?"
Hermione nodded tensely. She shrunk her books down, pocketed them with her other purchases and walked forward, careful not to jump as Ernies palm met the small of her back whilst he maneuvered them both down the cobbled lane.
"I apologise for not owling you," Ernie said, continuing to face forward, smirking lightly "I wasn't exactly sure what I would say to you after our last encounter being slightly... uncomfortable."
Hermione quirked a brow at him.
Ernie smiled awkwardly back at her. "I mean, given that you shot down my advances? Do you remember?"
Hermione tutted, scowling. "Yes, I remember. And I didn't shoot down your advances, I simply told you-"
"It's quite alright, Hermione," Ernie cut her off, smiling more broadly now. "I do understand. I can't imagine things have been easy since... Well, since the war."
Hermione looked away from him, closing her mouth strictly as she continued her meandering pace along Diagon Alley. The pair slipped into silence as they walked side by side. Ernies hand was burning into her back now, and Hermione began to feel an anxious sweat tickle the back of her neck. She tried to let her mind wander aimlessly as she observed the crawling street of busy shoppers.
"So, how are things at home?" Ernie asked, breaking her silent reverie. "Is Malfoy continuing to be the little horror that he is usually?"
Hermione exhaled sharply and rolled her eyes, smiling mirthlessly. "No actually. We're bosom buddies now. Just last week we made friendship bracelets and braided each others hair."
Ernie barked a rather undignified laugh and doubled over, clutching his ribs. His outcry caused a few heads to turn as the pair neared the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. Hermione pulled nervously on her hood as Ernie tried to cease his laughter behind his hand.
"Oh, Hermione!" he wheezed, wiping tears from his cheeks, not even noticing how she cringed upon his bold and very public use of her name. She could almost feel people had begun looking directly at her.
"I know you're only joking but- I mean, can you imagine? Malfoy braiding your hair! Ha!" he blew out a long sigh, finally ceasing his laughter. "I assume that it's not going too well then?"
"Quite." she answered tersely, eyeing the crowds with ever-growing unease.
"Well," he shrugged, "I suppose you don't have to put up with him for too long then. If he continues to give you trouble, they'll likely deem him unfit for the reform program and send him to Azkaban."
Hermione felt a dull pang clip through her chest at his words, but chose not to respond and Ernie didn't press her to.
"So, I suppose this is where we part, then." Ernie said, stopping at the pub and turning to face her.
Hermione halted, noticing a hint of dismay in his tone and a slump in his shoulders. She elected to ignore it in favour of sighing in relief. She was almost free and anxious get away from Ernie and his thinly veiled agenda. "Yes, it seems so." she agreed, turning also to face him. Feeling awkward, she extended her hand for him to shake and firmly said, "Goodbye, Ernie."
She hadn't meant to sound so relieved... Really, she hadn't. She had just wanted to be away from Diagon Alley right now.
"Eager to get rid of me, eh Hermione?" Ernie teased, quirking his brow above his knowing grin as he took her hand gently. Instead of shaking, he held on to it with both of his and gently thumbed her skin. She had to compress a shiver.
"No! I- I mean, no Ernie, it's just that I have things to do and I have a meeting this afternoon with-"
"Well you did say you had five minutes." he quipped, continuing to stroke the back of her hand. "And you promised me a chat."
Hermione pulled away harshly from Ernie and frowned. "We have been chatting Ernie, and I made no such promise. I only told you I had a spare five minutes. And by my watch," she gestured her arm outward, quietly hoping he wouldn't take it again, "it's been at least ten."
"Still, I wanted to talk to you-"
Hermione was beginning to lose her patience. She wanted to leave. She'd been here longer than she wanted to already and it was beginning to make her worry. This only fueled her irritation with Ernie as she folded her arms across her chest with a huff. "Again, Ernie, we have been talking, and I told you, I'm busy. So make it quick, what exactly do you want?"
Ernie seemed to falter for a moment under her stern exterior and scrunched his face. "Well, Hermione... I know a few months ago you weren't interested in anything with someone in a romantic sense, but I-" he frowned, looking down at his shoes in a display of discomfort "well, I was hoping you might reconsider?"
Hermione sighed heavily as her tense mood faltered and the corners of her mouth tightened. "Ernie, I... No, I'm sorry, I-"
"Why not, Hermione?" he questioned. "It's not like I'm asking for your hand in marriage." he reasoned, almost pleading.
"I know that Ernie, it's just-"
"Please, Hermione!" Hermione flinched at his sudden outburst and took an involuntary step back.
"Sorry!" Ernie rushed out, reaching for her, then clearly thinking better of it, letting his hand fall limply back at his side. "Sorry, I didn't mean... just, please? One date? If you really don't enjoy yourself I promise I'll drop it. I'll never bring it up again and we can go back to just being friends. Like nothing ever happened."
Hermione just stood still like a deer caught in headlights, heart still thumping speedily from the fright as she fretted with subtle glances around at anyone who might've caught their alarming display. If anyone had, they weren't making it obvious.
Adopting a calmer tone this time, Ernie spoke pleadingly with her once more. "Won't you give me a chance Hermione?"
She blinked up at Ernie. He looked mildly saddened, yet, oddly hopeful as he tightly clenched his hands together, almost in a begging gesture. The scene reminded Hermione of the orphan children asking for extra food in the musical 'Oliver!'.
This whole thing was decidedly off-putting for Hermione. Ernie was acting strange and far below anything she would usually find attractive in a man...
Despite this, she surmised that to set yourself up to be rejected not only once, but twice, and by the same person at least shows that your would-be suitor probably are quite interested in her... Right?
Besides, Hermione couldn't remember the last time anyone even looked at her in a remotely interested fashio, and Ernie, had put himself out there, making himself quite vulnerable twice for her. She understood that it must not be easy and he was likely just flustered, so he's ended up showing his interest in the wrong way. She felt rather sorry for him really.
And she believed everyone deserved a second chance.
In his defense, Ernie was usually very nice and well-mannered. They got on relatively well back at Hogwarts. Hermione remembered they had shared a fair amount of common ground in intellect. Back then, Ernie often came off pompous and boastful about his academic prowess during their time at Hogwarts, even by her standards. She had assumed that behaviour down to the patrician upbringing of purebloods. She supposed that at least this meant they'd probably have a lot they could talk about when it came to getting to know each other.
Taking in Ernies physique, Hermione noted that he wasn't actually a bad looking chap if she were being honest. He had grown tall, away from his stout figure in his school years, and was neither built, nor overtly skinny. Ernie had sandy-blond hair which fell in carefully illustrated coifs that framed his face well. He had a boyish grin that appled his cheeks and accentuated his sapphire-blue eyes. The whole look made Hermione think of a cherub. Ernie walked and talked with a graceful air about him, like every move he made was perfectly planned out, yet seemingly effortless in execution. She imagined he could be rather gentlemanly on a date. He was... wait, was she really considering this?
"Don't leave a man hanging, Hermione" he probed, breaking her assessment of him.
"Well..." she mumbled, "I.. suppose that would be agreeable."
Ernie grinned a full show of his impossibly pearly teeth, visibly relaxing his shoulders. "Great! How about tonight?"
Enthusiastic. He's also incredibly enthusiastic.
"Oh, I can't tonight Ernie, as I said, I have a mee-"
"Okay, what about Wednesday next week? Say... 6 o'clock? I can pick you up at yours if you like? What's your address? We could-"
Hermione really wished he'd stop cutting her off, it was quite annoying. His over-excitement was not doing anything to help abate her growing sense of nervousness. She could feel that sweat on her neck becoming more prevalent.
Worried that she had lingered too long already in Diagon Alley and terrified that somebody else might see her, she interrupted him quickly, "Six is fine! That's fine, er, how about we meet on the muggle side of The Leaky?" she suggested.
"Are you sure?" he questioned weakly, "I don't mind picking you up. If it's because of Malfoy, I assure you I can handle him."
It wasn't that, she just didn't want coming to her flat, worried that she might be placing expectations; like that he could just turn up whenever he felt like it...
...Or something else.
She grabbed at the straw anyway, still eager to move this along. She glanced at her watch on her now shaking wrist, feeling panic creep in with the waning time. "Yes, yes, I'm sure you can, but still, I'd rather he not sour the evening from the off." she lied. "Let's just meet here, away from all that. I'd... I'd rather not be thinking about him on our d-date." She gulped.
Ernie shrugged, not noticing her fumble over her words, and agreed. "Okay, sure. I look forward to it Hermione."
He leaned toward her eagerly and tried to hug her, but she ducked away, avoiding the unwelcome gesture with a quick reply of "I'm sorry Ernie, but I really must go. I'll see you Wednesday!" and she scurried off to the wall of The Leaky Cauldron before he could respond and before she ended up in fully-blown panic.
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"You're late, Miss Granger."
Yes, she was. Extremely so. She thought she would have enough time to buy the bedsheets Malfoy wanted but she was clearly mistaken. By the time she had made her way to Selfridges, through the pushy Sunday shoppers and halfway to Whitehall, she had realised then that she was going to be late. By that time, there was very little she could do about it, lest she apparate right in the middle of Regent Street.
She dumped her bag down ungracefully and palmed the sweat from her forehead, panting as she sunk down into the nearest chair across from Kingsley.
"Are you alright, Miss Granger?" he asked her, raking his eyes over her haggard appearence. There was no concern voiced in his question though, merely austerity.
"I'm fine, thank you Minister." she puffed. "I apologise for being late, I ran into a... an old friend and I-"
"Excuses are not necessary, Miss Granger, but your punctuality is." Kingsley chided as he took a seat behind his desk. "Now, I expect we will have a lot to discuss. Would you like to begin with the first week? How did Mr. Malfoy settle in initially?"
For the next forty-five minutes, Hermione answered all questions asked as best she could, careful not to reveal how many times she'd had to use her blasted wand, if only for Malfoys sake really. She could definitely handle him, and she didn't feel the need to throw him under the bus that way. She didn't like the prick, but she believed in the program and didn't want to jeopardise any chance that his reform might work.
She relayed the last few weeks she'd spent with Malfoy to Kingsley whilst he quilled notes from his leather wingback. Hermione felt she had been in his office for hours, and she was starting to become irked, just wanting to go home. She was still fretting from her earlier run-in with Ernie and hadn't had the chance to pay it any thought. She just wanted to go home and have a chance to mull over the days events, then promptly wash them away with a hot shower.
Kingsley had seemed in no hurry though. It was approaching half five before Kingsley said, "I have one final question for you, Miss Granger." He placed his quill in its inkpot and folded his hands in front of himself. "Off the record. How are you?"
Hermione blinked, unexpecting of a question like that to have left the lips of a man as clinical as Kingsley.
"Oh, erm, fine thank you, I suppose." she replied nonchalantly.
Kingsley hummed in obvious disbelief. "Are you quite certain Hermione?"
The casual use of her given name threw her slightly, yet she bobbed her head at the Minister anyway. She wasn't really doing all that well. Between sinking her life into her near-failing business and dealing with Malfoy, she'd been feeling rather run down of late. She didn't really want to share that with Kingsley though. It was a little more personal than she cared to be with the man, and she didn't want him thinking she couldn't handle herself regarding Malfoy.
"I'm certain Minister, I'm perfectly fine, I assure you."
She'd meant to sound more assertive, but Kingsley never broke eyes with her, making her shift uncomfortably under his assessing gaze. Kingsley seemed to sense her discomfort anyway. He stood and began pacing behind his desk.
"Like the rest of the world, you went lived through a great deal of suffering not so long ago. There is no shame in admitting you need support you know; its not as though you've had a wealth of it since the war ended."
Hermione felt her heart heave with his words, but forced her features to remain tame as she watched Kingsley perch on the front edge of his desk.
"And it's no secret that you, your friends and the Malfoy family didn't exactly get along."
She snorted. There was the understatement of the century.
"My point is that people are here for you, such as myself. I'm sure this must be difficult for you, especially given that Mr. Malfoy seems to have made no change-"
Hermione felt the thrum of anger shoot through her and she snapped her attention to him. Before she could reign in her mouth, she barked, "Excuse me?"
Kingsley frowned at her, pausing for a beat before carefully replying "I just mean that, from the events you related, I believe that Mr. Malfoy has shown no remorse for his actions thus far, nor empathy, as the program is supposed to ensure."
"He may not have shown it directly, but it has only been a month. He's hardly going to change overnight, Kingsley!"
Had he not been listening to anything she had said? Hermione had told him about the book, about the conflicting emotions she'd believed to have witnessed in, the arguments they'd had regarding Voldemort and blood status; Everything, aside from the physical violence that had ensued. Did he not understand? Did he not care?
"Miss Granger, calm yourself, I was merely-"
Hermione stood abruptly then, sending her chair from its legs as she leaned in toward Kingsley, suddenly very unintimidated by him. "Do not tell me to calm down! How can you be so dismissive of this? Were you not even listening to me just now?!"
"Hermione-"
"What, barely a month passes and you already want to send him to Azkaban, is that it?! Might as well give up on the hopeless case?" her fury scratched at her voice, she wildly jerked her arms and jutted her chin defiantly as she screamed the odds at Kingsley. "I thought we'd given up with this tedious prejudiced rubbish and reformed our government, but I should've known better! As long as we're on the side of the law, we're all doing the right bloody thing!" she yelled sarcastically. "Just like the good old days-"
"Miss Granger, that is enough!" Kingsley boomed, swiftly ending her tirade as he stood to his full towering height over her.
Hermione quickly clamped her mouth shut. Realising she'd been clenching her fists and teetering on her toes forced herself to relax her body as the weight of what she'd done set in.
Yelling at the Minister for Magic? Gods Hermione, you idiot. Her cheeks began to heat with embarrassment. She turned fast, picking up her fallen chair so she could sink down in it and, with any luck, disappear into it completely. She looked up into Kingsleys cross face and mumbled out a meek "sorry."
"Do not forget, this is an official meeting as per your contractual employment with The Ministry." Kingsley stated. "You would also do well to remember that I am your Minister, and the kind of conduct you just showed is completely unacceptable. You will never again speak to me in such a manner, under any circumstance, and refrain from such disrespectful behaviour in the future. Is that clear?"
Hermione nodded, feeling thoroughly chastised, averting her eyes from him. Despite her mild fear of the man before her, she still had no inclination to drop the issue. She respected Kingsley, and she knew he was a good and just wizard, but she'd be damned if she would allow anyone to brutalise everything they had worked so hard to change within their government since the war. This was not the Ministry of old, but a reformed, brighter and fairer one. She wasn't about to allow anyone, even Malfoy, to be filed into a grave miscarriage of justice. Before she could voice her opinion, however, Kingsley spoke again, more calmly this time as he perched on his desk once more.
"Don't think I am not giving Mr. Malfoy case the same dignities I would extend to the rest. If I felt any offenders were not able to reform, they simply would not be in the program. I am aware that Mr. Malfoy hasn't been at this for long, and that he won't, as you put it, change overnight. " He smiled pointedly at Hermione, reigniting her embarrassment.
"However," he continued, "it is my job to review the more high profile cases on the program and give my own observations and notes before the files are passed along to the Aurors for regular assessment. This is in order to prevent any biased reports from involved parties that may have had... personal grievances." he said, inclining his head toward her. Ultimately, the Aurors are the ones who decide on the fate of the candidates and assure they are given the appropriate guidance for reform. In some cases, Azkaban may be the only viable option, but it is not a first resort, rest assured. "Do you understand, Miss Granger?"
She nodded, feeling mildly reassured at his explanation.
"Just because I believe Mr. Malfoy has showed no change, it does not mean that I think he never will. Remember, I'm the one that gave him this sentence, Hermione." standing once again, Kingsley smoothed down his plum robes and lifted his chin to address her. "Now, was there anything else?"
There wasn't a great deal she had left to say. She had reported her findings to Kingsley, he didn't seem overtly worried or interested in Malfoy any more than it was necessary to be, and he seemed to have no inclination to treat him unjustly either.
Not that she cared of course.
"No, Minister. I think that's it." she replied with a sigh.
There was a long pause between them as Hermione avoided eye contact and waited to be dismissed, while Kingsley eyed her with a quizzical intensity.
"Are you certain everything is-" asked Kingsley.
"I'm fine, Minister." she dismissed. "Was there anything else you needed from me?"
"No, Miss Granger," Kingsley sighed, "you may go."
Hermione stood and quickly gathered her belongings, thanked Kingsley for his time and promptly exited his office.
