~~ July, 2002 - Two Months Previous ~~
"This is ludicrous, Kingsley… surely you must see that," Hermione declared, glaring slightly as the Minister pressed her parchment to one side, having barely given it a glance.
She was unused to being slighted so politely.
"The Wizengamot is largely held by witches and wizards of an older generation, Hermione… they are anxious to see our community rebuilt and they have little qualms about demanding an early legacy from the younger generation of survivors. As of right now there is a large movement in favor of applying even heavier penalties to all unmarried witches and wizards below the age of thirty-five. By all accounts, it appears that it will succeed."
"That should still have no bearing on how I am to live my life!" Hermione growled, leaning forward, "I fail to see what penalties have to do with rescinding the amount of time I should have to find a suitable partner!"
Kingsley continued as if he hadn't heard her.
"While a good number of young folk entered the workforce immediately following the War, over sixty percent elected to enroll in some form of higher education or specialized training - your friends included -"
"Myself included," Hermione interrupted, pounding her fist on one armrest impatiently. "Just because I never sat my N.E.W.T.s doesn't devalue my entire Mastery!"
"You have had four years to complete your N.E.W.T.s, Hermione," Kingsley replied archly, shifting his inkpot to the left by a few millimeters. "While I've always understood your reasoning for not having returned to Hogwarts immediately following the War, even Harry and Ron managed to complete their exams over two years ago, despite deferring in order to attend the Auror Academy's summer preparatory program. What's your excuse?"
Hermione sat back, tight-lipped and angry.
In truth, she didn't really have one.
Her first Mastery program had been a sight more than intense than she had initially anticipated, and at its conclusion she had begun teaching at a preparatory school almost immediately afterward. There had also been the matter of having learned an entirely different language, education system, and culture during those four years. It had all been rather… complicated.
The N.E.W.T.s, in contrast, had seemed like child's play - a mindless exercise in memory recall that was to be saved for whenever she decided to return to Great Britain. Between her studies, research, and teaching requirements, there simply hadn't been extra time nor space to return home, and as a result Hermione had nearly forgotten about them.
That had remained a constant until a dreaded Ministry letter had unfolded itself two weeks prior while Hermione had been in the midst of overseeing a study period.
In a tersely worded missive, Hermione had been notified that her period of marriage forbearance was ending and that upon the first of the new year, she would be subject to a wave of new penalties for unmarried witches and wizards below the age of eighty. Penalties that even threatened her with temporary incarceration for failure to comply.
Her subsequent reaction had ignited several banners in the study hall, created a host of improbable stories throughout the academy's rumor mill, and resulted in a barrage of letters addressed to anyone and everyone that Hermione knew at the Ministry of Magic.
Not long after, she had been granted a meeting with the Minister… and though Hermione was loathe to admit it, it was not currently unfolding to her desires.
"Forgive me if I was a bit more occupied with the subtleties of my craft," Hermione retorted after a long moment of silent fuming. "Surely in my situation, the N.E.W.T.s. need only remain a formality? I hardly understand why I am wasting your time on this at all."
She had tried to subtly play the "war hero/public celebrity" card, but from Kingsley's expression, it seemed that she had failed.
The large wizard sighed and turned to face the bank of windows behind his desk, watching as a group of young Ministry workers circled the fountain in the Atrium below. Hermione followed his gaze and felt a brief stab of envy for the ease with which they appeared to joke and converse with one another.
If only my life were so straight-forward...
"While the Ministry continues to support young witches and wizards in their desire to acquire specialized knowledge before entering the workforce -"
"A prudent decision if we are tasked with rebuilding the next Magical generation from the ground up," Hermione mumbled under her breath, earning her a solid glare from across the desk.
"... current census predictions place us well-behind ideal figures-"
"I can't imagine that four years is sufficient time to learn much of anything regarding population statistics," Hermione said in disbelief, unable to prevent herself from interrupting again. "Surely ten years should be the barest of minimums for re-evaluating any pertinent data?"
Who the hell runs the census anyway?
"I agree with you," Kingsley replied tersely, folding his large hands across the desk in a clear effort to remain patient. "However you must realize that our community has diminished considerably since the end of the War. I don't expect you to understand seeing as you left so soon after the Final Battle… but it is difficult to assuage the public's concerns when there are still empty storefronts in Diagon Alley and far too many empty posts scattered throughout our workforce."
Hermione felt a brief flash of guilt at that, but swallowed it as she realized it had been a calculated dig at her life choices. The Minister was not the first to have disapproved of her decision to depart the country in the aftermath of the War, and while she could feel slightly guilty for not having participated in the country's rebuilding… she would not become the nation's pariah for the sake of social convenience.
"The public needs reassurance that our Magical community has the capacity to rebuild itself, and you must also realize that a large majority of seats in the Wizengamot were in favor of redrawing plans for another Marriage Law," Kingsley looked to her beseechingly, "A great deal of debate and discussion left us with this compromise… and while I understand the inherent age-discrimination wrapped into all of this, the reaction from your peers has been reasonably positive. The majority of young folk genuinely want to do their part in rebuilding the community and producing heirs to our Magical legacy."
Hermione remained silent for another long moment as she mentally cursed all of her friends.
Has no one objected to this turn of events?
"What does this have to do with my specific situation?" she asked after a long moment, pressing a hand to the bridge of her nose. "Surely a full Mastery is sufficient affirmation that I have not been 'shirking my duties' for a lack of a better term. I am engaged in a full-time course of study. I do not understand why the N.E.W.T.s are becoming such a critical detail in deciding how much time I have to find a partner."
There was a brief flash of something across Kingsley's face that looked suspiciously like guilt.
"You must realize that young public figures such as yourself are key toward turning the tide of public opinion," Kingsley began slowly. "You were granted an additional year of forbearance from marriage despite pressure because of your outstanding contributions to the war effort. As I've already informed you, the initial five-year grace period granted to young witches and wizards after they have come of age has been shortened to three… unless an individual elects to pursue a full-time course of higher study."
Hermione waited with a raised eyebrow. Such as a Mastery program?
"Once a witch or wizard concludes their studies, they are granted a two-year grace period before finding a suitable spouse. The court is planning to meet next month, and that period will be shortened to just one year," Kingsley's calm gaze faltered for a moment and Hermione tensed, realizing they were about to arrive to the heart of her situation.
"The Wizengamot seems to believe that another high profile wedding such as the Potter's would do wonders for sparking inspiration amongst your peers. Your name arose during the proceedings and it was decided that because you never sat your N.E.W.T.s, your current… activities cannot be counted as a valid form of study. They are also taking place abroad which cannot be counted as a Ministry-approved course of education. Therefore your three-year grace period and your extra year of forbearance will be up at the end of December. I'm sorry, Hermione."
The air around her had become rather dry, and in her building fury, Hermione barely registered the sparks fizzling at the ends of her curls. Her blood seemed to be running both hot and cold at once, and Hermione rose slowly, unable to keep her voice free from the trembling anger as she pointed an accusatory finger toward the Minister of Magic.
"Minister Shacklebolt, am I to understand that you sacrificed my freedoms in order to be the face of your… your new Ministry-approved marriage propaganda? I'm to be the happy-go-lucky bride inspiring hosts of other young witches to jump on the broom and get hitched?!"
She could barely grind out the words.
Kingsley held up a placating hand.
"Miss Granger, that's hardly the term-"
"That's Master Granger to you, or have you forgotten that I've been actively furthering the noble art of Potions while convalescing abroad, as you all seem to have assumed!" Hermione spat, gesturing viciously as she shoved her chair back.
"You're leaving me with what? Five months to find a partner?! Or I'm to be penalized?! What - do you really plan to lock me up if I fail?!"
"I'm sure we can arrange-"
"Was it not enough to have been part of the lauded 'Golden Trio'? Was I not heralded as the 'Brightest Witch of my Age?'" Kingsley winced slightly as Hermione's voice rose in volume, "I did my part! And while I am happy to consider the notion of marriage amongst my future plans, my current work in education reform is taking precedence! Surely that should be a valid argument to satisfy any concerned parties?!" Hermione threw a hand to one side wildly, "Or maybe tell them that I'm working to ensure we don't go about educating the world's next Voldemort?! What about that?! Why don't you let me be the Brightest Witch of my Age?"
"Master Granger, please -" Kingsley stood slowly, the warm reassuring tones abruptly chafing against her rising temper. The room seemed remarkably warm.
"Of all the ridiculous, presumptuous notions to have proposed! Did you really believe I'd just acquiesce like that? Like some simpering heroine happy to give her life over to the community which turned its backs on Muggleborns?! Do you remember that, Kingsley?!"
Kingsley's eye twitched in the barest of winces as he held up a beseeching hand.
"Hermione-"
"And how dare you not recognize my Mastery! Whose idea was that?! How about you have the Wizengamot check the most recent editions of Ars Alchemica or the ICW's recent addendum to international pharmacopoeia?! How about I file an official complaint with the Potions Society?!"
"Hermione-"
Kingsley's protests were lost to her tirade as Hermione began pacing in front of the Minister's desk.
"It's only been four years since the War! How dare you believe that I'd be ready to give up my career and simply settle down and get married! I finally have a life! I finally have a purpose and you just want me to-"
Her anger blossomed into fury as her words were abruptly cut off by a wordless charm, and Hermione glared daggers across the desk as the Minister leaned forward and pressed a single finger upon the burnished mahogany wood between them.
"Master Granger, you will hear me out or I shall have you removed by force."
It appeared that Kingsley's patience had finally snapped, and his dark eyes were cold as they glared across the desk at each other.
A wave of unbridled frustration pulsed through her and Hermione did little to prevent the burst of magical energy from rattling the windowpanes as it shot from her body and slammed into the four walls of the office in a wave of roiling light.
To his credit, Kingsley barely flinched as he waved his wand to protect a number of more delicate items around the room… a host of whirring devices on his bookshelves lighting up as her magic crackled audibly. A small part of Hermione purred in satisfaction at the hearing the muffled shrieks from the Atrium below.
Serves them right. Sheep - all of them are sheep!
Her huff of indignation was lost to the Silencio, and Kingsley simply waited for her to finish with her outburst before leaning to one side and pinching out the remains of a long feather quill that had been reduced to embers.
Hermione stood trembling… her cheeks hot and her curls likely a wild mess about her face as she clenched both fists.
"Are you done?" the Minister asked dryly.
Feeling remarkably petulant, Hermione crossed her arms and glowered for a long moment before taking her seat again slowly, electing to look past the Minister and through the glittering windows. The noon sunshine seemed to mock her by streaming through the Atrium's skylights cheerfully.
Where's your legendary patience now?
Her Master would not have approved.
Though she could have easily managed the counterspell, Hermione waited with a haughty tilt of her chin for Kingsley to return her voice with a rather guilty flick of his wand.
"We are both caught between a rock and a hard place, as it were," Kingsley sighed, his brow smoothing slightly as he swiveled in his chair to follow her gaze toward the busy chamber below. Despite her outburst, everyone seemed to have returned to their duties and Hermione felt another flash of frustration as she realized that she was all alone in her feelings.
Just pull yourself together… you are a grown witch!
"I never imagined our community would be thrust into the position that it's currently in, but the War happened… our situation is what it is, and I empathize with you, Hermione," Kingsley continued, his tone pensive.
"I, myself, have been under considerable pressure to take a wife, but I am also running out of excuses. I've been reluctant to marry simply out of obligation to our community... I grew up in with a Muggle mother, Hermione, and I still believe in marrying for love just as much as I believe you do. "
Hermione waited, feeling her ire give way slightly as she absorbed the Minister's quiet words. It was not often that she was able to acknowledge the cultural differences between Muggle and Wizarding societies with her Magical friends without feeling some form of conflict or shame.
She hadn't known Kingsley Shacklebolt's own history and part of Hermione immediately wanted to ask several questions. However she held her tongue. Likely the Minister's words were part of yet another calculated move to get her to 'see reason,' and Hermione chose to remain silent… irritated as she felt her empathy blossom in response anyway.
From her perspective, marriage within the Wizarding world continued to be colored by archaic traditions that perpetuated concerns regarding blood status, political alliances, and even preserving intellectual property. It didn't surprise her that the general population had willingly acquiesced to the Wizengamot's overwrought concerns about population decline - marriage was still largely viewed as a social contract, while producing heirs was simply an expected byproduct.
In contrast, marriage in the Muggle world seemed to center more upon the needs and desires of individuals - holding love as the central component toward deciding a shared future.
Privately, Hermione had always leaned closer to the beliefs of her heritage… though she had learned over time to keep such idealistic opinions to herself.
Appealing to your Muggle upbringing to build sympathy - now there's a first.
Hermione sniffed softly and opened her mouth to reply, but was caught off guard by Kingsley's next question.
"I will do my best to protect you from public scrutiny, Hermione. However, I must ask… is there truly no one here with whom you could see a potential future?"
Whatever argument had been on the tip of her tongue quickly dissolved, and Hermione found herself without a clear reply. Unbidden, a host of vivid images and memories sprang into her mind - thick with simmering emotion that she had long since tried to bury with distance and time.
Fuck.
The subsequent pause gave away far more of her true thoughts and feelings than she had been willing to divulge and Hermione glared as the Minister quietly folded up her parchment and tucked it back into its crisp envelope, a soft smile playing around his features as he turned to face her directly.
"Give yourself the rest of this year, Hermione," Kingsley said softly, pushing her parchment across the desk with a gentle hand. "If there is truly no one in our Wizarding community who catches your eye, I will gladly sign your renunciation of citizenship without complaint."
He called your bluff… and now you have to face your new reality.
"In the meantime, I suggest you begin readjusting to life at home by notifying the Ministry's Office of Education as to how you intend to rectify your delinquent N.E.W.T status. The moment you complete your exams, you will earn back another year of forbearance before incurring the standard penalties applied to unmarried persons… unless you elect to enroll in a program of higher-education recognized by this Ministry or simply find yourself a suitable partner."
Hermione didn't fail to register the quiet emphasis on "this Ministry," and the first tendrils of despair began to wind themselves through her chest as she truly began to realize that she would not be returning to her new life anytime soon.
"I understand, Minister," Hermione replied evenly, tipping a cold smile as she finally looked the taller wizard in the eyes.
This isn't over, Kingsley...
She watched with detached satisfaction as the Minister blinked quietly, a thin veneer of emotion passing through his eyes before he leaned forward and placed a large hand upon the desk between them.
"Hermione… I want to personally apologize for placing you into this difficult situation, however unlike others, I genuinely believe there is a silver lining waiting for you amidst all of this mess. Perhaps these circumstances will provide you with opportunities that would have otherwise remained unexplored."
The opaque statement barely registered as Hermione allowed herself a small sigh, her gaze quietly absorbing the tired wizard sitting before her as her frustration continued to sizzle indiscriminately.
A fine smattering of lines dotted Kingsley's dark brow and there was a hunched over look to the Minister's shoulders that spoke of prolonged tension and exhaustion. The well-trimmed goatee did look rather dashing, in her opinion… but beneath the tailored robes and elegant kofia, the telltale signs of stress and loneliness seemed to hang like a tangible aura.
Hermione watched the wizard for a long moment and tried not to let herself fall into the trap of her own empathy as she realized that the War and his new position had aged Kingsley far more than she had realized.
We're both pawns in this game...
"Politics," she murmured bitterly, breaking her gaze and letting it drift toward the sunlit windows again.
"Politics," Kingsley agreed sadly, rising to come around the desk as Hermione tucked her unsigned application away and pressed her chair back. She rose smoothly, feeling the comfortable weight of her summer robes settle in around her ankles.
It was already mid-July and she suddenly felt acutely aware of the passing of time.
Either you become a permanent fugitive from the Ministry or you return to Britain and settle in for a life you don't desire… all because the Wizarding community needs another 'happily ever after'...
Nothing had gone according to her plan and she needed to return home and regroup before deciding upon her next move.
Hermione blinked and turned, realizing that Kingsley was speaking to her as he ushered her toward the door.
"- isn't what you imagined. But unless you've lost that Gryffindor fire somewhere in the desert, I imagine you still have the potential to surprise even her."
Hermione felt a flash of panic.
"I-I - what? I don't know what you're talking about," she replied quickly, feeling a hot flush creep up her neck as she rearranged her outer robes with a deft hand. Even though her voice had remained steady, Hermione inwardly cringed at how defensive her response had sounded.
Predictably, her response caused Kingsley to chuckle softly as he leaned back and cracked his neck before fixing her with a twinkling gaze.
"Give an old Ravenclaw a bit more credit than that," he said softly, hiding a smile beneath a heavy hand as he held the door open and his voice dropped into a low whisper.
"Of all the witches in Great Britain, you could do far worse than Minerva McGonagall."
Crossing the threshold, Hermione once again found herself speechless. Turning, she managed to catch a glimpse of her own wide-eyed expression reflected in Kingsley's amused gaze.
How did he - ?
"Good luck, Hermione."
The Minister's door closed in her face, and try as she might, Hermione couldn't help but feel as though it was the proverbial nail in her coffin.