Chapter 22: Antagonistic and Reactionary
Hermione strode through the atrium, and an invisible anvil's weight suddenly lifted from her gut. She felt no remorse or loss as she glanced around the high walls. This place had been her dream, and now it stood only as a metaphor for her failure. "Miss Granger." Davina caught up with her and grabbed her wrist. She was panting and clutching her chest. "You'll make a difference out there, trust me." The woman nodded authoritatively. "And if you ever want to come back and run for Minister, you can do it through my department." The head of international seemed to have caught her breath as she said more subtlety, "I have friends in the Canadian ministry. They've got better elf rights there. I'll put them in touch with you."
"Thank you, Mrs Smith, and thank you for in there." Hermione nodded toward the court. "I would have been more scared if you hadn't been there."
"Any time Miss Granger, please keep in touch. I can see creepy Smeaton hovering behind you. He's eager to bend your ear." Davina Smith, head of international and a good woman in general, nodded her goodbyes and marched her pant-suited arse back to her office, where a spirited meeting with the Dutch was scheduled. She hoped they brought snacks.
"Miss Granger, I'm Mr Smeaton, head of the unspeakables." A small man with steepled fingers teetered towards her on his toes. He was old and wizened and looked like a stretched house-elf.
"It's nice to finally meet you, sir." She smiled guardedly. She knew The Mysteries held her partly responsible for the destruction of countless prophecies.
"We've restored seventy-five per cent of the damage." He tittered as if he could read her thoughts. "Ironically..." He had a breathy little coughing fit "it was prophesied that you would destroy them." he let out a squeak of laughter, and his legs danced an awkward jig. Hermione felt like she was talking to a marionette. It was decidedly off-putting. His movements were tiny but very fast, so he almost looked like he wasn't moving at all.
"Oh, wow." Hermione nodded, not sure what else to say.
"Most people ask if there are any forecasts about them when they meet me!" He stated,
"Oh, I wouldn't want to know what some prophesy had to say about me." Hermione swallowed. She wondered if there were any predictions about her.
"We don't tell the content. We're just by law obliged to tell people how many prophesies have been made about their person, if they ask." He attempted a smile. It was pained.
"Ah, no. I don't think I'd want to know either way." the only thing she wanted to do was leave. "Is there something specific you wanted before I go, sir? I have to pack up my office."
"Ah yes, sorry." He made a strangled honking noise as he cleared his throat. "We are keen to engage in a discourse with the House-Elves vis-a-vis their prophecy." he slapped his lips. "The centaurs are the only other creatures we know who gather future tellings, and they are non-cooperative." He sighed.
"One can merely wonder why." Hermione's eyebrow was cocked, don't even get her started on the unfair treatment of Centaurs.
The unspeakable hummed, "If you'd care to take our invitation to the appropriate elven body, then I'll await your response, alternatively if they allow it, you could perhaps just impart some information as to the format of the prophecy?" He spun his fingers in-between each other.
"I'll ask." Hermione nodded and sidestepped him, desperate to reach the elevators.
"Thank you, Miss Granger. I look forward to seeing your route." He smiled cryptically. She hoped she never had to interact with the strange scarecrow ever again.
"Is there a creepier human being in existence?" Rory Pince stepped beside her as she continued her journey to the elevators.
"none that's still alive." She shot the older man a smile and side glance. He was handsome in the way men in their 60's are.
"I'm sure you don't need the reassurance Miss Granger, but you've made the right choice." he slowed his pace, and she matched. He was a powerful man and an excellent ally to have. "I hope you reconsider the Goblins' offer." Hermione's feet finally stopped, and she turned to him, he had a Malfoy smirk, and she wondered if the Pince family were distant relatives.
"I would ask how you knew about that, but you're Mr Pince. Of course, you know." she breathed and considered him. "It's certainly something I'm thinking about. I have ideas." The Goblins had come to her when she'd graduated and offered her a security position within their bank, she'd refused, and they'd persisted. They were now offering her a consultancy role in a freelancing post, and she was tempted. Not for the money, just for the challenge.
"On a personal note, I'd like to thank you, Miss Granger. Irma tells me you write to her often." He nodded. His spinster cousin's connection to the golden girl had certainly helped raise her in society a little.
"Oh I love Madame Pince!" Hermione gushed. She could never bring herself to call her Irma. The woman was a legend "That library literally listens to her." Hermione shook her head in wonder. "I helped her put it back together after the battle. She taught me so much." Hermione felt her eyes getting a little misty.
Rory Pince swallowed. He'd always assumed his cousin's tales of her bond with Hermione Granger had been somewhat exaggerated given the woman's standing. He'd always believed the letters were a polite courtesy from a kindly girl who seemed to know every ministry employees name and back story. To see the admiration Hermione held for his cousin made his heart swell.
"She's also a savage who will rip you to shreds if you get jam on a book." Hermione laughed fondly, and Rory joined her. "Please, if you see her, let her know I send all my love to her and look forward to our Christmas drink."
"I will do just that, Miss Granger, and please let me know when you intend to have your first Gala or fund-raiser. My wife and I would be delighted to co-sign an invite and get as many bums on seats as possible." He patted her arm politely.
"That's very generous of you, and I will take you up on it. I better clear out my office before they do it for me!" Hermione bid him goodbye and jogged toward the elevators praying no more people wanted a chat with her.
"Hello, son." Arthur threw his arm around Harry as they walked through the canteen, both very much needing a sweet cup of tea.
"That was an outrage, Arthur." Harry sighed. He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"Good of you to sit by her like that. I heard Robert worrying about the Harpies turning on him." Arthur smiled and wished to god his knees would stop hurting.
"That ship sailed the minute he took that seat. They all think he's a sexist prat." Harry laughed dryly.
"Well, that's because he is." Arthur smacked his lips thoughtfully as they reached the tea station. One of the few perks of the ministry was as much tea with milk and sugar as you could stomach, at no cost. Giant urns of the amber liquid were always piping hot and freshly brewed. "Did you know she was going to quit?" Arthur poured himself a mugful and added cold milk with a satisfied smile, plopping two cubes of ice white sugar in after.
"Not a clue. Took every ounce of self-restraint not to show it on my face." Harry spoke truthfully as he added his own sugar.
"you did well, lad." The older man sat down at one of the vacated tables and patted for Harry to join him.
"Surely Deirdre will get reprimanded for this when Sully gets back from maternity?" Harry asked as he took a long glug of the hot and soothing beverage.
"too bloody right. She's sent me three furious owls this weekend." Arthur smiled. "And I have a feeling Barlow's not going to come off as the crusader she thinks she is in the press tonight."
Harry nodded and slumped into his seat. He'd miss Hermione's presence in the building. He was on his own now. Well, he had Arthur for another couple of years, at least.
"Can I ask you something personal?" Arthur stared at the steaming mug of tea as he spoke.
"Ok, Arthur." Harry wasn't sure what was happening. He prayed that the question wasn't somehow related to Molly or their sex life.
"Is our Hermione…" Mr Weasley grinned and shot Harry a mischievous look. "Is she involved in something… grown up with Malfoy?"
"What makes you say that?" Harry's failure to outright deny it gave the game away instantly.
"Saw them in a meeting, and they couldn't keep their eyes off each other," Arthur spoke in a low, conspiratorial voice. "Then I saw them sneak off together after the meeting… and today in the tribunal, he was up there in the gallery with his eyes pinned on her." Mr Weasley took a sip to punctuate his theory.
"ah." Was all Harry could say, what was he supposed to say. "I think they're friends." He finally spoke dumbly.
"Well, if it gets to be more than a friendship, you let her know that Molly and I won't disapprove." Mr Weasley nodded with a smile. "I hate to think of our girl hiding something like that because we might not welcome him."
"If it comes to that, I'll let her know." Harry smiled into his tea. Arthur was a very good man.
"Granger!" Draco let off a tiny confetti cannon when she finally returned to her office.
She laughed and watched as the magical paper floated to the floor before vanishing. "Did you enjoy that?" She asked with a tilt of her head as she started lifting her personal files out of drawers.
"Immensely. My Darling, you made the biggest of splashes out there." He flicked his wand, ensuring the office was locked and soundproofed.
"Oh, was the gallery all abuzz?" She grinned as she assembled an endless box and started to fill it.
"Veritably atwitter, so this is what you and the elves were chatting about last night?" he wrapped his arms around her waist and held her to him as she continued to pack.
"Yes." She smiled at the feel of him pressed against her "Would you have done it differently."
"If it was me, I'd have gone ballistic and threatened to fillet them all." He murmured into her neck, "but I'm antagonistic and reactionary." he grinned as he felt her arms caress his own.
"I still haven't a clue what is in that letter." She smirked and felt his grip on her tighten.
"Don't Hermione, it's mortifying." He groaned, pressing his cheek to hers. "As soon as she started reading, I knew I should've done another draft. Please tell me the letter isn't why you quit," he mumbled, heat and possible guilt creeping up his neck.
"No." She chuckled. "I have a big issue with the press seeing me as an adult. A bit of a sexy scandal might've helped with that." She grinned and turned in his arms, "It's like I said, I'm tired." She smiled sadly up at him, and he pressed a gentle kiss against her lips as they swayed in her office. So strange, how so quickly, this had become so right. "I don't want to fight to feel like I belong anymore."
"I'm sorry for my contribution to your fatigue," He pressed a harder kiss to her lips, a determined kiss that he tried to pour so very much into. "I'll fight every day to remind you that you belong. More than belong."
"Draco…" Those words from his lips meant so much. She felt an odd tightness in her chest as a million promises and a million fears struck her at once. Her heart thudded. What she was feeling was new. She'd never once looked at Ron and thought, my world would be so much worse without you . A panicked notion struck her, and her breathing became shallow.
"Hermione, I…" His earnest declaration was interrupted with the shake of her office's handle.
"Hermione, it's Kingsley. We need to talk about this." Hermione didn't break from Draco. There was too much promise and unspoken hanging between them. Her heart continued to thud in her ears as her stomach strained against itself. Is this love?