Chapter 20: The Minister's Memories
Hermione walked down the brusque, emerald marble corridor that led to the Minister's office. She wore a smart pair of slacks with a cream-colored blouse and practical ankle boots, all wrapped under a muted navy cloak with simple bronze moons crocheted into the scalloped hems. Her hair was tightly braided and bound with a navy ribbon. All of this looked very professional and unless one came very close to inspect the young Minister, they would not notice her bare face and swollen eyes, or her bitten lips and short nails. Ron, of course, knew all of this but couldn't say much on the matter, mostly because Hermione often left home while he still slept and returned almost always in the AM. Otherwise, he too was being called for more frequent overnight Auror missions, which Hermione suspected he actually enjoyed since it made her unhealthy absence less obvious. He was on one such expedition at the moment, and Hermione had woken up in the darkness alone and decided to make her way back to work extra early. To her right and left, the portraits of former Ministers slept in the same rendition of the stately royal blue chair that she would soon occupy once she made her way to the end of the hall. She eyed the dozing Cornelius Fudge, who had passed away quietly around five years ago and snoring Rufus Scrimgeour, painted with even more slashes than she remembered seeing in real life; remnants of his final battle. Although Hermione was not fond of her schedule and would stop once the tasks ahead were finished, arriving at work earlier and leaving later had incurred one benefit; she no longer was greeted by the waking images of the former Ministers. She had never felt more like a fraud in her life.
Settling in her royal blue seat, Hermione stirred a cup of coffee and and began reading from a massive stack of reports. Pink tags were evenly placed along the pile- every twentieth report to be exact. Hermione had requested such tabs in order to keep track of her efficiency. At full attention, she could get through twenty in an hour, which meant the stack of 50 could be done before 9AM, just in time to receive the daily Auror briefing and updates from the Wizengamot about recently closed cases… She glanced thoughtfully out the windowed wall that lay to the left of her desk. From her vantage point she could see into the central atrium of the Ministry. The massive "Magical Harmony" statue looked tiny from her view above, though the gritty picture of Neville Longbottom and Dumbledore's Army was not diminished the same way. Hermione always wondered if Neville would one day want to join the Ministry, but he had easily taken the Herbology Professorship at Hogwarts and slipped back into the gentle, albeit less naïve, persona she had grown up familiar to. He was thriving too. She had heard Rosie and Al adored him, like Bill's children before (and Dominique would barely help in the garden at home!). Thinking back to her days in Herbology, Hermione considered this a great triumph as even the pleasant Pomona Sprout hadn't quite compelled her interest for more than academic achievement. But mostly, she felt comforted by Neville's lasting passion; it was one of the few lovely things that seemed to have endured the War and aftermath without too much damage.
The senior managers of Magical departments, minus the Department of Mysteries, all had their own overlooking offices spread about the atrium. All were dark and empty at this time except two and Hermione didn't even need to look closely to know that the top left office was holding her best friend bent over Auror mission plans and updates, probably wringing his hands through his floppy dark hair while the other lower office, almost straight ahead, held a childhood nemesis probably pacing as he mapped out new enchantments for expanding magical passageways and tucking a bent wand behind a tuft of white-blonde hair. Harry and Draco did not make it out of the War Era with the same resilience as Neville, Hermione mused. She remembered returning to Hogwarts to finish her seventh year and seeing, among many of her classmates, the pale, pointed face of Draco, standing well on his own and looking at only Headmaster McGonagall with the blankest of expressions. She had seen then that his arrogance and bravado were truly gone or deeply hidden, as was a lot of his malice. Honestly, the way his stony expression barely acknowledged his peers' whispers reminded her of Professor Snape's passive, yet gloom demeanor. Only once had she seen an outburst of emotion and that had been directed at Astoria Greengrass as she pursued him onto the still-damaged viaduct.
"You need to leave me alone!"
Dark auburn hair continued to whip in a steady pace as Astoria Greengrass followed Draco, "You can't cross it anymore you know, they haven't removed the Amory yet to fix it."
The viaduct passage became narrowed by debris and pieces of stone and metal armor until Draco stopped, finally relenting that the bridge was, indeed, uncrossable. He didn't notice Hermione and Luna leaning on the other side of a fallen knight and steed, who often sat together in periods of silent mourning on the bridge, where the view of Hogwarts still showed the most damage from especially violent curses.
"Tori, my family is a disgrace. I'm not looking to be with anyone, do you understand? It is my full intention to let my line die out at me." Draco's voice was nervy and high, like he had tamed his shouts into desperate whispers.
"I never said we'd have to have kids Draco, I don't even know if I'll like you in a few months," Astoria's tone was measured and she didn't move from her stance, "I just want to get to know you more that's all."
Draco huffed, flustered, "Everyone knows everything about me, you especially. Don't act like you aren't interested, I've seen you looking at me for years at the Goyle's parties."
Astoria laughed, "Well sure, I mean I couldn't have been the only one." She took another step toward Draco, blocking his attempt to skirt past her.
"Tori I'm not here for the reasons you think, I'm done with it all. I know Goyle has been asking for support and Alton Rosier managed to beat his indictment so I'm sure you can find a sympathetic ear whenever they get back their courage to mingle again…. It seems like the younger ones are being blessed second chances by our kind Ministry… probably to save face after Stan died" Draco, again tried to ease his way around the girl.
But Astoria now looked angry and flustered, "Malfoy, if you think I want to get back in with whatever sorry blokes manage to skate by the system perhaps you aren't as smart as I assumed. Do you really think that little of me?"
"I don't know you Tori and I'm just trying to make sure I don't end up a hermit in one of my family's estates sapping away my inheritance and watching the world go by." Draco finally gave up his escape. The two had moved slightly down the bridge and their voices were more faint. Hermione tried not to move as she strained to hear and while Luna still gazed glassily out at the castle, she too had gone still.
"And why wouldn't you do that if you could?" Astoria questioned, "No don't answer! I know why- I wouldn't either. Don't you understand? Daffy won't even talk to me anymore and I just thought…. I thought you were feeling the same way."
"Are you not going home?" Draco asked. Hermione couldn't see but Astoria must have shook her head. "Oh. I… okay yeah maybe I do get it- don't cry Tori. I didn't know. We can… we can talk…"
Their voices melted into the wishing air.
Hermione couldn't tell if something had changed that night because Draco had showed up to class the next day same as ever. It wasn't until she saw him arrive at the Ministry one day, a little over a year ago, that she recognized his wife as Astoria.
Hermione clucked impatiently at herself as she noted the time. She found herself on the last page of a report completely lost about the subject at hand- she'd have to re-read the last few pages. Yet as she finished and took out a third stack of papers, she drifted to the man in the upper office. Harry hadn't gone back to Hogwarts, a great disappointment to McGonagall. He had, however, taken the new night classes being provided to students affected by the war about two years after 1997. Hermione wasn't sure that Harry was helped by those classes as they only helped to make him available for promotion in the Auror department. She had come to respect that he was a rather brilliant wizard in practice- or rather, when things had real consequences (and N.E.W.T.s were apparently not 'real' enough). He currently was up (for a third time) to be promoted to Head of the Auror Department and as long as he continued to receive promotions for another decade, he'd be the youngest wizard to be placed so high. But Harry had declined the first two offers and Hermione knew this one would end the same. Being a Department Head meant less time out in the field and Harry was more than content to lead and plan detailed excursions for his team, naturally the most successful group of Aurors in recent memory.
It also meant more scrutiny, and Hermione was aware that Harry still broke rules that didn't suit him with astounding frequency. One such instance was that, at this very moment, Harry had a stack of confidential files stored in a safe in the floor of his office that concerned the disappearance of Katie Bell. Every so often, when most of the offices had emptied, he'd open the files and scribble furiously in a rather unseeming notebook that he kept in his desk drawer. And sometimes he would take a day or two to "work from home", which Hermione knew from Ginny was a lie and, always, the little notebook would be gone as well.
Most of her colleagues had noted that Harry Potter was rather different than how they remembered him. Most also believed that the profound confundus-something, it was a powerful bit of unrecognizable magic that Harry had sustained in Wales, was the culprit to his new solemn presence. But Hermione was less sure. After the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry, like all of them, had basked in a moment of weightless euphoria for what the future, now certainly less dark, could hold. And then came a constant procession of funerals. Not just the fallen from Battle, but the muggleborns in Azkaban, the disappeared that had met some grim fate with the Snatchers, the whole families murdered without anyone to check on them, all finally brought to light. And while most high-ranking Death Eaters had perished, there were hundreds of suspected followers now lined up for their day in court, which would need to sort out the liars and accomplices from the imperiused and coerced. At first, it was everyone's intention to do justice, to the dead and the living, but the sheer magnitude of the work made it impossible. Hermione felt numb after Fred's funeral and found she didn't really cry at many after that.
Harry had though, she and Ron had watched him slip into the same agony at each wake. And he had gone to every burial he heard of, regardless of how well he knew the person. Ron had found a list of gravesites that they realized were people laid to rest that he couldn't attend and paid respects to later, alone. That was the word that defined Harry- alone. As much as she tried, as much as Ron, Ginny, Molly and Arthur, Minerva, Hagrid, tried, Harry had become a fog both brimming with emotion and yet subdued and secretive that no one quite understood. He was always there, at the funerals, the trials, the rebuilding of Hogwarts and the Ministry, but he walked around looking on the verge of tears and barely acknowledging the living around him.
Then, as the waves of sorrow ebbed just enough for people to move and talk once again, Percy Weasley had announced his intention to marry Audrey Snyder, who he had quietly sent into hiding after she leaked Death Eater locations to Xenophilius Lovegood. The wedding was simple, but the feeling spread like the flu- George proposed and married Angelina Johnson within two months, having back-to-back weekend festivals with Lee Jordan, who finally plucked up the courage to woo Alicia Spinnet. Neville had also eloped with Hannah Abbot, Seamus with a muggle girl he grew up with. Dean ended up marrying a friend of hers who, with him, stood witness to their vows. Ron only waited so Hermione could find her parents once again, which took longer than she expected, and settle them into a new home. Susan Bones and Ernie McMillian followed, then Cho Chang and boy from Duramstag, Vincenzo Cabari… Professor Trelawney had personally oversaw the weddings of Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown's older brother Forrest, as well as Padma with Lucie Milner, another Hogwarts student. Penelope Clearwater and Oliver Wood, Michael Corner and Lisa Turpin, Justin Finch-Fletchley and a muggle man named Joel, Terry Boot and Nadine Ali. Each subsequent wedding was filled with more and more young couples.
To her credit, Ginny had been incredibly patient as she accompanied Harry to these celebrations. But as the fever died down, she had come tearfully to Hermione to beg her to drop Harry a hint that, perhaps, it was time for him to make a commitment.
" I mean, I know he loves me, he sat with my father to personally carve my new broom handle and I've never been able to turn so smoothly… I just would like him to ask is all- I'm never going to shut up about it if I end up proposing and I'm reaching that point," She had confided in Hermione one afternoon as they watched Harry and Arthur show Xenophilius Lovegood the impracticality of his Burrow design. Luna had arrived home with a very handsome and properly cloud-eyed Rolf Scamander and her father was over the moon. And then, of course, Bill and Fleur had brought Fleur's younger sister for the weekend and the girl had been too excited to hear that, unlike most of his peers, Harry did not yet wear a ring.
Later that evening, after Molly prepared a lovely picnic in the moor in full view of the nearly-completed first Burrow tower, Harry had walked a ways away from the supper chatter and Hermione caught a meaningful look from Ginny. She left the group to stand beside her friend, who was gazing in the direction of the Ottery St. Catchpole town lights, but probably worlds away.
"Luna somehow found the perfect match huh?" She began after Harry failed to start a conversation. He nodded thoughtfully.
"Xenophilius says they met in a different country every time I've heard him tell the tale," She continued, Harry smirked but still said nothing.
"So it seems another wedding is upon us… Harry why are you waiting? Did you lose it?" Hermione lost patience and this was enough to visibly bring Harry to full attention. He turned to her and patted a front pocket on his jacket, where she could see a small weight bulge slightly.
"I've always got it, I just…" He trailed off again and stopped meeting her gaze.
Hermione grasped his shoulder, "Harry you bought that before Ron even proposed… I can't imagine it's regret…"
"No, no of course not," Harry said quickly, "I just, I can't explain it Hermione. I think about my wedding and I see the chairs full of Weasleys and I just, I wish my Mum and Dad would be there, or Sirius, or Remus, or Dumbledore…"
He looked up again and Hermione recognized the sorrow she'd grown to know in him, "its not appropriate to have so many empty chairs but I just want to, I don't know, have some representation of a family… my family."
The two stood in the grasses as the sunset lit them yellow, orange, then deep red and mahogany. "Harry, I know you want to make sure they're remembered and honored. I can't do what you've been enduring all these months- I've tried honestly and I can't. But Harry, I know they don't want you to dwell on them. They're at peace for now, they're not feeling pain- you are the one suffering and I think you need to let yourself live. You have time to make a family, I know it's not what you're asking but it will be good enough, trust me" She glanced at Harry's face, hoping he understood her words were in kindness. Harry stood thinking as he now did, letting the silence stretch longer than Hermione was comfortable but not really noticing, before replying, "You're right Hermione, you are always right."
The next time Hermione saw Ginny, she almost picked her off the floor before flashing a beautiful teardrop diamond encaptured in delicate gold ringlets, "It's perfect, I heard you helped pick it out… over a year ago!" she pulled a stunned Hermione near, "He kept this on him every day? Just how sweet that is almost makes up for how long I've waited… almost... I gave him an earful before I said yes." She winked and giggled girlishly, quite out of character.
The path to the big day had thrown Harry into several bad memories, but Hermione was impressed by how present he tried to be. Funny enough, a week after Harry had proposed, he'd received an odd invitation in the mail about yet another wedding. His cousin Dudley was marrying a Squib named Camille in an intimate ceremony, completely unrelated to the post-war bliss in the wizarding world. When Harry had returned home, he sent out an invite to his cousin and Aunt and Uncle. Dudley had accepted quite politely, but Petunia and Vernon never replied, something that had surprisingly hurt Harry deeply. "I didn't think he would want them there in the first place…" Ginny had mused as the day approached. Hermione felt a pang, but wasn't sure if Harry had wanted their short conversation to be secret.
The Weasleys might have had impressive numbers, but they hardly dominated the wedding. Almost every invite, other than Petunia's, was RSVP'd, with mentions of perhaps more than a few extra guests. And there was no short supply of people willing to cater, provide music and entertainment, decorations. Horace Slughorn had lent his home, a splendidly lavish manor with an expansive, grassy backyard, only too eager to see two bright pupils of his come together. Perhaps the most important part to Harry was that McGonagall had suggested that Hagrid walk him down the aisle. The whole affair had gone perfectly… even if Hagrid had pulled out a baby hippogriff that allegedly was the offspring of Buckbeak who allegedly had a mate (though Hermione suspected he'd landed it in some shady dealing).
But even after settling into the life his peers were all beginning, Harry never seemed as free. He didn't miss Ginny's anniversary (unlike Ron) or birthday and always came to the holidays. But it was in the middle of these large family events that he would suddenly disappear to be alone. And much to Ginny's frustration, despite being his closest confidant, Harry didn't reveal a lot about his day-to-day feelings. Eventually she reached an understanding, and the children had punctured some of the distance that would settle between them, but Hermione knew her feelings had been hurt. After that talk on the moor those many years ago, Harry had never mentioned anything similar to Hermione. But it was a clue, small and incomplete, that led Hermione to believe that the despondently sober man, an Auror Prodigy and great hero, was not encumbered by a single attack in Wales. She was rather inclined to believe that Harry still wrestled with the same demons that tortured a little boy trapped in a cupboard- physically in a house, but never feeling at home.
The Minister glanced at the clock and gave up her reading- she'd have to skim the documents again before she went home, probably past midnight. The window holding Harry now had another figure, one she recognized as her husband. Perhaps she could get the Auror's report in person today, and feel a little less isolated from the two people she trusted most.