Note: The challenge for August was to write a story completely using documents such as letters, notes, journal entries, articles, etc. I couldn't quite do that for the entire chapter, but I decided to write one entire "day" in this format. Plus there's another section with letters. Hope you like it!
Beta thanks, as always, to dormiensa and dreamsofdramione!
Tuesday, AUGUST 1
Hermione barely had time to look at her planner. She had a meeting with the Department of Magical Lands and Sanctuaries at nine, and she couldn't risk being late. A cursory glance revealed that her days were peppered with meetings on the pixie situation. She knew there would be outings with Pansy, as she'd latched onto Hermione as a de facto Maid of Honor since Millicent Bulstrode, her actual Maid of Honor, was on an extended assignment in the United States and wouldn't be able to fulfill many of the traditional duties.
But considering everything she'd been through with her schedule and safeguarding her time, it was a surprisingly light month. Her magical painting classes had resumed, which occupied her one night a week. She thought she was close to being able to bring some life into her creations, though perhaps only in a breath of wind or something small. It took years of study to achieve Mastery, and while it wasn't her aim to paint something worthy of being hung in a museum or a great house, she was extremely interested in the magic involved and hoped to progress, at her own pace, until she could learn some of that.
She'd also decided to try a book club because she loved to read and discuss books, and the group only met once a month. Surely that wouldn't feel overwhelming.
Hermione shut her planner, grabbed her notes, and bustled out. She hoped her meeting with Lands and Sanctuaries was more successful than… well, any of the other meetings she'd had.
Lands and Sanctuaries was even more neglected than Hermione's own department. They were tucked into the back hallways of the same floor as Misuse of Muggle Artifacts, a few doors down from there, in fact. Everything looked like it belonged at least five decades in the past. The lights, despite being magical, seemed to buzz like the fluorescent lights that filled Muggle office buildings.
When she reached the main office, the door opened as she knocked, not because someone had let her in, but because the latch wasn't quite working.
A kind old woman greeted her with a nearly toothless grin. "Hello, dearie. You must be Miss Granger. I'm Gertrude. We don't get a lot of traffic down here. Have a seat." The woman shuffled some papers on her mostly empty desk, then folded her hands on top of the small stack. "The door's cursed. We faithfully put in a new request every week with Maintenance, but they never seem to be able to find it when we ask."
Hermione's heart instantly went out to the woman and the department. She knew what it was like to be low on the Ministry's priority list. "I'd be happy to take a look at it. I'm no cursebreaker, of course."
"That would be lovely, dear. I'll let Mr. Perkins know you're here."
Hermione returned to the office door while Gertrude ambled down the hall to the only visible door. The latch proved rather simple to remedy, and she was angry that nobody had ever bothered to even try to fix it.
"He's ready now. Straight down the hall, you can't miss the office." Gertrude sat down slowly, as though the weight of her old bones was too much.
"Thank you." Hermione put her hand on Gertrude's shoulder as she passed.
The office door was plain and brown with an old, chipped plaque on it. Hermione knocked.
"Come in." Mr. Perkins sounded tired and it was barely nine in the morning.
"Hello, Mr. Perkins." Hermione smiled warmly and extended her hand.
Perkins shook and motioned for her to sit. "Miss Granger. I must admit, it's something of an honor to meet you. You're rather well-known, as you must surely be aware. I've always admired your work ethic and your determination to do what's right. No matter what."
"Thank you very much, Sir. That… means a lot." And she meant every word. It was rare to find someone who appreciated her for who she was, for her stellar record and commitment to integrity. In the case of Perkins, here, whom she'd never met before, at least he claimed to appreciate her, which was a lot more than she got from most people. "I don't suppose you know why I'm here."
Perkins sighed dramatically. "I've been 'warned' that you might be coming to see me."
"I see." Hermione braced herself for the quick rejection she had expected.
"Now, Miss Granger, I don't enjoy being at the bottom of the pile, as I'm sure you're familiar with. I've been here almost fifty years, and Magical Creatures is treated only slightly better than us. Nobody wants you to win this more than I do."
"But…"
He spread his hands wide. "There's nothing I can do. I have virtually no power. However, I would truly love to hear your presentation. If you want to give it, that is."
Hermione felt deflated. "Just like that? There's… nothing you can do?"
"The treaty between the Ministry and the pixies is binding, but this department has no recourse for enforcement. We cannot require the Ministry to maintain possession of the forest for the pixies. All we can do is say that, yes, the treaty exists. The Ministry retained some small degree of ownership; should the pixies ever vacate on their own, the forest would revert to being fully possessed by the Ministry."
"You've no power to prevent the Ministry from breaking the contract, then?" Hermione clenched her jaw. Why was the Ministry such an exemplar for inefficiency and wastefulness?
"I'm afraid not. I am sorry. I hate to give such unpleasant news to someone I admire."
"I appreciate your time, Mr. Perkins." She forced herself to smile. "I won't take up any more of it."
"Come back and see us anytime!" he called after her as she hurried down the hall.
She needed to get out before she screamed. A quick wave to Gertrude and she burst through the door into the hallway, her heart racing and her lungs feeling like they were being squeezed in a vice. Hermione blinked away tears and ran through the halls, wrenched open the stairwell and climbed four floors to the atrium. Once there, she Apparated to her favorite park where she began taking in great gulps of air. After a few minutes, she sat on a bench, her hands shaking.
There was very little left for her to do, nowhere for her to turn next. This had been her last hope, albeit a slight one, some way to snag the sale on a technicality.
Her mind flailed aimlessly as she watched people in the park walking dogs, running, and riding bikes. She wanted her life to be simple yet meaningful. She wanted to give back to the world that had given her so much, the world that had shown her what she was and had given her the space to discover who she was. Magical creatures had always been maligned and treated as inferior, and she'd detested the reality ever since she first learned of it. Fighting for the rights of those considered "less than" or "other" had been her passion for as long as she could remember, but she was beginning to understand that the Ministry of Magic might not be the best place for her to live this passion.
Unfortunately, she had no idea where that best place might be.
For the briefest of moments, she thought about Draco's multiple offers of help, but she quickly pushed them away. It wasn't time for that yet; she had to believe in the laws that had been written and the system that was designed to uphold them. Taking the pixie's forest was so clearly wrong that it was only a matter of time before the right person heard her arguments.
Saturday, AUGUST 12
"What do you think?" Pansy spun slowly, allowing Hermione time to see the whole dress.
If it had been the first—or even the tenth—Hermione would have been enthusiastic. Instead, she had lost count of how many dresses Pansy had tried on. They'd all begun to look basically the same: long, white, expensive gowns. Some had sleeves, some didn't. Some had long trains, some were short. Hermione wasn't sure she could conjure even the barest amount of enthusiasm at this point.
"Pansy, it's lovely. Truly. They've all had something to recommend them. But I think I could use a break. We've been here…" She checked the clock on the wall and had to suppress a groan. "Two and a half hours. If I don't get something to eat, I'm going to set this place on fire."
Everyone in the room froze, hesitant and almost worried expressions on the faces of the employees.
Hermione forced a smile. "I'm joking. It's a Muggle expression."
That did the trick, and everyone resumed their bustling about.
Pansy had the grace to look sheepish. "I suppose you're right. I could do with a bite myself. Just let me get this one off, yeah?"
Hermione sighed while Pansy disappeared into the dressing room. She'd thought her friend had made a decision already. The fifth dress had brought everyone in the boutique to an awed hush. Pansy had been glowing as she regarded herself in the mirror. But then she'd reappeared from the dressing room in a new gown, and they'd been at it ever since.
It was only nine in the morning, but she'd had a light breakfast considering she'd had to wake up before six-thirty on a Saturday. The boutique was only open by appointment, and with such short notice, they'd only been able to secure a very early one. Hermione knew she'd be a better friend and assistant with a substantial meal in her, and she was already planning what to order from The Three Broomsticks when Pansy emerged, looking fresh as if she'd just woken.
"All right, Hermione. Let's get something to eat and then I want to visit a few other shops."
When they exited the bridal shop, Hermione turned left but Pansy went right. "Hey! Broomsticks is this way!" Hermione called.
"I know, but there's something I need to do this way first. It will be very quick, I promise!" Pansy didn't wait for a response and continued down the street, away from the shops and restaurants.
Hermione sighed and hurried to catch up. After a moment, she started to wonder what they were doing. "Pansy, this is the residential part of Hogsmeade. What are we doing?"
Pansy gave her a slight smirk. "You'll see."
It was then that Hermione remembered that Draco was currently residing in Hogsmeade, and considering the very recent conversation with Pansy, she had a sneaking suspicion that her friend was up to something. She rushed to grab Pansy's arm, halting their progress. "Tell me what we're doing."
With an exaggerated sigh, Pansy rifled through her purse, procuring a slip of parchment on which Hermione could see an address written. "I thought, since we're here, we might stop in and say hello to Draco. He's our mutual friend, after all." Leaving the paper with Hermione, Pansy resumed her march.
Hermione wasn't sure how to feel, but she couldn't deny she'd been immensely curious as to what Draco did with his time. And, with Pansy at the lead, it seemed quite natural to her that they should stop in, since they were already in town. Consequently, she said nothing to discourage Pansy, falling into step beside her.
The walk was short, and they spent it with Pansy talking about dresses, much to Hermione's displeasure.
Finally, they reached the street written on the parchment and turned down it. As they did, they saw something that made them both stop in their tracks.
Draco's house was the second on the left, and he was standing just outside the front door in a dressing gown, a large mug of something in one hand. That wasn't alarming, but they saw a woman with dark black hair, also wearing a lounge robe, descending the few steps that led from his door to the sidewalk. She stopped at the edge of his front garden, looked back at him, and waved. She then proceeded to walk down the street to the house next door to Draco's. He watched her go the whole way, taking a sip from his mug. When the woman reached her door, she waved to him again before entering her house.
He continued to stare in her direction for a long minute after.
One moment Pansy was gaping at him, the next she was storming up the street, her heels clacking the pavement. Hermione, who couldn't quite breathe properly, struggled to keep up, but Pansy reached the gate first.
Draco's face was full of surprise when he saw Pansy barreling up his walk. Then he looked even more stunned when Hermione came trailing behind her.
"Pansy?" He straightened up from where he'd been leaning on his door frame. "What are you doing here?"
"Me?" she screeched. "What about you?"
Hermione thought the excessive anger was uncalled for. What Draco did and with whom was none of their concern. If Pansy was angry on her behalf, she needn't be, even though Hermione felt a little bit like throwing up in the bushes.
He arched an eyebrow and casually sipped from his mug. "I… live here? Which I'm assuming you know, since you're here. I doubt it's pure coincidence that you've found yourself at my front door."
Pansy huffed and crossed her arms. "Who was that?"
"Who was whom?"
"That… that woman who just left your house? In a bathrobe, no less! Simpering over her shoulder, blushing as she went, waving coquettishly. What is going on?"
Hermione instantly knew that Pansy had said all the wrong things. Draco's jaw tensed, his eyes narrowed, and his posture stiffened. "None of that is any of your concern, I assure you. Was there something you needed? Some reason you stopped by, Pansy? Or are you just here to shout at me on my doorstep?"
Pansy stood silently for a long moment. "Can we talk? Inside?"
Draco glanced to Hermione, who had remained just inside the garden gate. She gave him a weak smile and tried to be very interested in the flowers and plants growing along the edge of the fence.
"If we must," he said, his own displeasure evident.
Hermione watched as they disappeared into the house. She could hear angry voices—mostly Pansy's—but couldn't make out any of the words. Eventually, the volume decreased, but Pansy and Draco remained inside the house.
The woman who'd left Draco's door had to be the neighbor Narcissa had mentioned in passing the last time they were together. Hermione only knew that her name was Suzanne and that he'd become friendly with her since temporarily moving into the house. She hadn't thought too much of it, and she didn't really want to think about it now. Before, she could imagine that Suzanne was an elderly witch who enjoyed having a strong, young man next door, someone she could discuss herbs and magical plants with over the fence. It had never crossed her mind that Suzanne would be someone young, pretty, and single. And by her actions, it would appear that Suzanne had a little fancy for Draco, if her lash-fluttering and blushing were any indication.
Pansy had been so sure that Draco liked her, and she'd even started to let her own mind wander down the various 'what if' lanes. But now, she had to consider that, in fact, his attentions toward her always had and always would be of the friendship sort. Her doubts began to assail her once more, the reminder that she'd felt he was pulling away over the last few months. He hadn't done as much with the Foundation, and had been so busy traveling that he hadn't spent as much time with them on outings as he used to.
If Pansy had been right, and he'd had feelings for her earlier in the year, there was no guarantee that they remained. If they hadn't been strong enough for him to ask her out or in any way tell her how he was feeling, then it would stand to reason that they could easily disappear, most likely by putting space between them and allowing himself the room and freedom to explore something else.
"Hello!"
Hermione jumped, startled. She'd been lost in thought, internally cataloguing the flowers growing by the fence on the side shared by Suzanne. When Suzanne called her name, she'd been standing only a few feet from her, her hand trailing lightly over a patch of tall, purple Echinacea blooms.
"Um, hello." Hermione did her best to smile awkwardly.
"I'm Suzanne. I haven't seen you around here before." She glanced at a window in Draco's house. "Are you a friend of his?"
Hermione straightened and looked Suzanne square in the eye. "Yes, we've been friends for some time. Another mutual friend is speaking with him just now. I'm waiting." She'd started off feeling confident, but that fizzled quickly.
Suzanne nodded. "Is that his girlfriend?"
Hermione snorted. "No. As I said, she's a friend of his."
The woman nodded thoughtfully. "Good." Then she blushed. "I mean… I only… oh, bother, I'm making a mess of things. I only wondered if he was seeing anyone."
"Not to my knowledge." Hermione's heart pounded at the deduction that Suzanne wasn't seeing him, either. So what had she been doing leaving his house at just after nine in the morning?
Suzanne leaned on the fencepost and sighed. "He's a wonderful neighbor. Very thoughtful and considerate. It was my birthday last week, and he insisted on taking me to dinner, since I've only lived here for a few months and don't know anybody. I'm originally from Ireland but transferred to England in May to work for the Ministry."
Hermione's responding smile was tight. "I also work for the Ministry. Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."
"You never told me your name."
"Oh, I apologize. Hermione Granger." She held out her hand and Suzanne, eyes wide with awe, hesitantly shook it.
"Not… the Hermione Granger?" Suzanne was still shaking her hand.
Hermione finally pulled hers away when it became clear that Suzanne was a bit too starstruck to do so. "The same, I'm afraid."
"I had no idea Draco had such a famous friend! You're quite popular in Ireland, you know. At least, you're somewhat of a hero for witches there." Suzanne brushed some stray hair out of her face.
Hermione noted for the first time that Suzanne had changed out of her robe. A quick glance at the other woman's front garden showed one that was full of life, just like Draco's. "Did you plant everything?" she asked, sweeping her hand around the area.
"Oh, no, most of it was done by Bertilda, the woman who owns the cottage Draco is letting. She was friends with the previous occupants, who let her plant as she saw fit in their garden as well as her own. It's lovely, isn't it? There are so many useful magical plants here, as well as some that are purely ornamental." Suzanne pointed to a bush in the corner. "That one there is almost constantly visited by butterflies in the summer. There haven't been too many lately; I suppose the weather is changing just enough to make them look for something more suited for them."
The door to Draco's cottage swung open, drawing Suzanne's gaze. Hermione turned around and saw Pansy descending the steps. She saw Hermione immediately and motioned her over, then saw that Hermione was in conversation with Draco's neighbor. Pansy glanced down at her shoes—three-inch heels that probably cost more than Hermione's entire wardrobe—then the grass, then huffed and removed them. Pansy walked through the grass with bare feet to join Hermione at the fence.
Since Hermione was the only one who knew both women, the introduction fell to her, though she did so reluctantly, wishing they could leave. "Pansy. This is Suzanne, Draco's neighbor. Suzanne, this is Pansy Parkinson."
The women shook hands, Pansy barely touching Suzanne's. "Charmed, I'm sure. Hermione, Draco's joining us for breakfast. Although, it's really more like brunch at this point, don't you think?"
"All right." Hermione wasn't quite sure what to think at this new development, and she kept her reaction in check. It still didn't mean he hadn't just gotten through shagging this woman that morning or the night before. Then she remembered that Suzanne had asked if Draco was seeing someone, so at least they weren't dating. But stranger things had happened than two single, attractive people shacking up now and then.
"Oh, that sounds lovely!" Suzanne exclaimed. "I've not yet had my breakfast. I had just gone to borrow a cup of sugar from Draco before you arrived. I must have just missed you."
Pansy gave her a bored look. "Shame. Well, we won't keep you then." She hooked her arm through Hermione's and led her away from the fence. She slid her shoes back on, stood up tall and smiled. "He's not sleeping with her."
Hermione closed her eyes. "Pansy."
"Did you expect me not to ask? A strange woman I've never seen before is leaving his house, in a bathrobe no less, at such an hour of the morning?" She tutted. "It's only natural."
Draco's door opened once more and he emerged, having changed into denims and a long-sleeve, dark gray t-shirt. When he saw them, he took a breath and joined them on the walk leading to the street. He glared at Pansy, then gave Hermione a tired smile. "Hello, Hermione. It's good to see you this morning. I had no idea you'd be stopping by."
"I didn't either. We were at an appointment with a dress shop."
"Pansy told me."
"Well, now. Shall we?" Pansy was instantly perky, and Hermione felt a well of dread settle in her gut.
Just because they had talked about the possibility of Draco having feelings for her didn't mean that Hermione wanted Pansy interfering or trying to get them together. That was the last thing she was interested in, despite the fact that she liked Draco very much. If they were going to happen, she wanted it to be natural, as everything about their friendship had always been.
Draco motioned for Hermione to follow Pansy, who insisted on walking fast to stay ahead of them. Hermione pursed her lips and crossed her arms. Draco shoved his hands into his pockets, his focus on the ground before them.
"I think the Broomsticks isn't quite what I'm in the mood for," said Pansy silkily. "I think I'd like to try the new French bistro. What do you say?"
"That's fine, Pansy," Hermione said, glancing at Draco.
He shrugged. "Whatever you say."
They walked a few minutes in silence, then Hermione rolled her eyes at herself. The entire thing felt ridiculous. What, were they teenagers again? Draco clearly wasn't thrilled about being out with them, and she wondered why he'd agreed to it. This made her wonder exactly what Pansy had said to get him to agree, which made her stomach swoop uncomfortably. She glanced ahead at her friend, the one she hadn't trusted enough to tell the truth about her feelings. Surely Pansy had drawn conclusions, made inferences, connected the dots to know that, at the very least, Hermione wasn't dis-interested. Had Pansy said as much to Draco?
Hermione refused to give Pansy the power to throw a wrinkle into her relationship with Draco or to let the fear of such a thing affect her. She smiled, then turned to Draco. "Have you made use of any of the plants growing in your garden? I saw some lovely moonflowers, though no Burnt-tip Orchids."
He seemed to relax a bit. "The woman I'm renting from has given me permission to use whatever I might need, but I've honestly not had a lot of time for it. Between the renovation at Hogwarts, continuing to work for mother's causes, and keeping abreast of what Potter's doing, I haven't had time for casual potion brewing."
Not to mention taking his neighbor to dinner for her birthday, Hermione thought. How many gatherings with his friends had he missed while in Hogsmeade, yet he could make time for that? No, she wouldn't let herself think like that. There was no cause, no point in being jealous.
"That's too bad. It's a magnificent collection."
"I agree with you there. On the day she handed me the key to the wards, she gave me a tour of her yard and Suzanne's yard, since she's done the work in both of them." He paused and swallowed. "That's when I met Suzanne; she saw us outside her house and introduced herself."
"Ah." Hermione tried not to sound too interested.
"Here we are." Pansy stopped in front of a quaint café called Cafe Lyon. "I've heard really good things about this place! I can't wait to try their Chouquette." She opened the door and the three of them went inside.
Hermione had to admit the café was delightful. It had a French air to it, though she couldn't quite put her finger on why. To her delight, she saw on display an assortment of macarons, and she pointed them out to Draco. "Look! Oh, I fell in love with those treats in Paris. I can't wait to see what flavors they have!"
His answering smile was warm, if a bit tired. "Let me know. I'll get a few myself. Though I'm not sure anything could beat that Mint Julep one you sent me for my birthday."
"Come, you two. Let's get to our table." Pansy ushered them to a spot near the front. It was a metal table for four, and to Hermione's surprise, she insisted on sitting between them.
Hermione took it as a sign that Pansy wasn't massively conspiring to force them together, as she remembered so many girls in school doing whenever a friend admitted to fancying someone.
Once they'd perused the menu and ordered, Hermione asked Draco how things were going at Hogwarts.
His eyes immediately lit up. "Excellently. We're a tad ahead of schedule, though I expect that will slow down a bit when the staff return full time. They're due the Monday after next, so my hope is that we can continue to be slightly ahead of the curve so that, with the additional people around the castle, we'll remain on target for the job being completed."
"It was so interesting hearing about all the changes that will be made," said Pansy. "Do you think they'll have any sort of negative impact on the atmosphere at Hogwarts? Part of its charm were the trick stairs, the moving staircase."
Draco shook his head. "No. Everything so far has been seamless, as though the castle itself were thrilled at the changes. If, by chance, we do finish ahead of schedule, there's a small project I'd like to try and fit in. But if that doesn't happen, hopefully I can make it happen before much more time passes."
"What is it?" Hermione asked, leaning forward.
He paused, as though considering whether to respond or not. "The focus has been on the castle itself and the Quidditch Pitch." He grinned. "You know I had to make sure Tabitha could join her friends for every match."
"Of course," said Pansy with an exaggerated eye roll.
"So there's a special path being constructed from the castle to the Pitch, just like there are paths to the various outdoor classrooms, but I'd like to see some of that path extended further onto the grounds. To the lake, for example, even to Hogsmeade. I've been hoping to have time to work on that."
"That's lovely." Hermione felt that her heart might burst. He really was simply wonderful.
"How's your work going, Hermione?" Draco asked as he took a bite of sausage.
"What's this?" Pansy asked before she could respond.
Hermione quickly swallowed. "You know. The pixies and the Quidditch stadium."
"Oh, right." Pansy nodded. "You had something this week for it, didn't you?"
Hermione felt pleased that Pansy had remembered, then ashamed for thinking that Pansy wasn't behaving like anything but a good friend. She would wait for some kind of evidence before suspecting her friend of betraying her trust—even though it was only of a sensitive conversation, not a confession.
"Yes. I met with the Department of Magical Lands and Sanctuaries in an effort to learn about who truly owns the forest, who stands to gain from the sale."
"What did you find out?" Draco asked.
Hermione sighed. "Nothing useful. The land is owned by a trust established between our Ministry and the Muggle one as part of the implementation of the Statute of Secrecy. It was designated as belonging to the magical population of Britain. Nobody had shown any interest in it, so when the pixies needed a new home around the turn of the last century, the Ministry had no problem signing the agreement with the pixies to let them use it."
"And now?" asked Pansy.
"Now? The Ministry seems all too happy to sell it. They've been promised a hefty sum, plus some royalties and any resources found when the forest is converted for the stadium."
"'Converted.' That's a funny way of saying they're going to tear down most of the trees." Draco scowled.
Hermione was surprised at the emotion in his voice. She hadn't known he cared that much about the forest. He had always shown great interest in what she was doing, but it had seemed more academic and, if she were honest, only because they were friends.
Pansy started to say something, but Draco interrupted her. "Hermione, why do you keep doing this to yourself?"
Again, the intensity of his tone gave her pause. "Keep doing what?"
"Trying to get what you want by going through the Ministry?" He smacked the table for emphasis, startling her, sat back in his seat, rocked forward, then sat back again and crossed his arms. "My mother has offered her assistance. I've offered mine. You know what you're up against, yet you still insist on going through the proper channels, as though that's going to do any bloody good."
Hermione could only stare at him in stunned silence. Never had he even hinted that he was frustrated with her, with what she was doing, yet here he was, sniping at her. She cleared her throat. "Draco. I appreciate your concern, but I'm handling this my way."
He rolled his eyes. "Your way isn't going to get you what you want, and you know it."
She jutted her chin out defiantly. "I do not know that. You know what I'm doing and why, Draco. We've had this conversation already. I—"
"Yes, we have, and you bloody refuse to listen to me! You've had how many meetings?" He propped a clenched fist on the table. "Your boss." He held up one finger. "The Department Head of Magical Creatures." Two fingers. "Games and Sports, which was a bloody waste of time." Three fingers. "You actually met with the Quidditch League, which is bleeding adorable. Bet they all got a good laugh." Four.
Hermione felt her cheeks burning with humiliation and hurt over his words. But he wasn't finished.
"Now you've gone and met with Lands and Sanctuaries." Five fingers. He wiggled them at her with a deep scowl. "What do you have to show for it?"
"I—"
"Nothing! You've spent hours researching, hours reading, hours upon hours preparing for these meetings that the other parties allow just to keep you somewhat pacified. I guarantee you they're all laughing behind your back."
Tears stung her eyes. She'd always thought that he understood her reasons for why she wanted to follow the path she was walking. He'd always been so supportive, despite offering to use his contacts, his prestige, to see around some doors that had remained closed to her.
What was more, she knew that he was right. She'd known it with every single meeting, every single person she'd spoken with. Nobody was taking her seriously, and nobody was interested in truly hearing her. It was endlessly frustrating, but she knew that she was doing the right thing, so she'd refused to truly let it wear down her confidence. To have Draco now throw it all in her face was not only shocking, it was hurtful.
"All because you refuse to listen to me and accept my help." He punctuated his final word with a moderate bang on the table.
She narrowed her teary eyes at him. "Maybe I don't want your kind of help, Draco."
In an instant, all the ire drained from his face and he recoiled as though struck, a look of betrayal in his eyes before he shut down.
In the worst moment possible, their food arrived. Draco was staring at the table, Hermione was torn between crying and yelling at him, and Pansy seemed frozen.
"Need anything?" the server asked, smiling at each of them in turn. When she received nothing but icy silence, she arched an eyebrow. "All right, then. If you change your mind, let me know."
As soon as she was out of earshot, Draco leaned forward, rubbing his forehead as though he were fighting a headache. "Hermione, listen. I—"
"Save it." She pushed her plate away and stood, rummaging in her bag for a few coins. "Pansy, I'm so sorry. I'm happy to accompany you some other day." Then she rushed from the café as quickly as possible. She thought she might have heard him call her name, but it was hard to hear over the pounding of her heart and the rushing of blood in her ears. Tears started streaming down her cheeks as she hurried out of sight of the café. When she felt she'd put enough distance between herself and him, she stopped, taking a few moments to catch her breath.
She and Draco had been through their share of disagreements over the course of their friendship, but never had he spoken to her with such vehemence, such venom, as though he truly thought she was stupid for what she was doing. She had no idea he was capable of such cruelty still, but perhaps there are some traits that refuse to die, no matter how much we wish it otherwise. His words, designed to hurt, had done so, much more than she'd thought possible.
It made sense, of course. She'd had feelings for him for months and had only very recently begun to entertain the idea of him returning those feelings.
Well.
So much for that idea.
Sunday, August 13
Hermione,
Are you okay? Do you need anything? I can bring ice cream.
Pansy
-ooo-ooo-ooo-
Pansy,
I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be fine? No need for bringing excessive calories into the situation.
Hermione
-ooo-ooo-ooo-
Hermione,
Why wouldn't you be fine? Are you daft? Let me think. You had a huge row with Draco, who, ignoring everything else, is one of your best friends. You shouldn't be okay right now.
What time should I come?
Pansy
-ooo-ooo-ooo-
Pansy,
If by 'row' you mean he insulted me beyond all reason or merit, then sure. That's what happened. How can I consider him a friend if that's what he truly thinks of me?
There is no need to come over. I am fine.
Hermione
-ooo-ooo-ooo-
Hermione,
He was in a pissy mood, I'll grant you that, but it's probably because I… well, I gave him quite an earful when we spoke in his house. It had nothing to do with you. I'm sorry he took it out on you, but I'm almost certain he regrets every word he said.
What's your favorite flavor?
Pansy
-ooo-ooo-ooo-
Pansy,
Be that as it may, he had no right to speak to me that way. You do realize he essentially mocked what I'm doing, don't you? He hurt me. He dredged up my deepest fears and insecurities—not just about the pixies but about everything in the entire wizarding world—and he knew it—and then threw them in my face with contempt. A friend wouldn't do that. And he… I thought he was my friend. But now I'm not so sure.
It's butter pecan, but I don't want any.
Hermione
-ooo-ooo-ooo-
Hermione,
Your resolve is weakening, I can tell. Yes, Draco was an arse. And, as much as I hate to defend him, just because he hurt you doesn't mean he's not your friend. It means he did an appalling thing, but I can guarantee that he regretted it as soon as the words were past his lips. I'd hazard a guess that he's drowning himself in Firewhiskey right now because he knows what he did and he hates himself a little bit for it.
Before or after dinner? How serious is this? One carton or two?
Pansy
-ooo-ooo-ooo-
Pansy,
Then if he feels so bad, I have no doubt he'll be knocking on my door any moment to apologize.
Oh, how odd, complete silence.
I'm not eating ice cream before dinner. There's no need to come over, Pansy.
I am fine.
Hermione
-ooo-ooo-ooo-
Hermione,
You're obviously not fine. Why don't you write to him and tell him how you feel? That way you can get all your feelings out without having to actually look at him.
It's after lunch, and this ice cream I've already purchased isn't going to eat itself.
Pansy
-ooo-ooo-ooo-
Pansy,
There is no possible way I can send him a letter telling him how I feel. I… I can't. It's hard enough feeling this hurt. What good would it do to tell him? He knew exactly what he was doing, and pissy mood or not, he chose to say what he said. No. I did nothing wrong—
Well, there was that comment referencing one of his greatest insecurities, which is that no one will take him seriously because they'll assume the worst about his motives.
But I won't apologize until he does. He was wrong first; I merely lashed out in an effort to protect myself.
I'm sorry you wasted your money on ice cream.
Hermione
-ooo-ooo-ooo-
Hermione,
You two are both so incredibly stubborn. And you're right, that is one of his greatest weaknesses, and you hit him there because he'd hurt you so badly. You two are close and I can't believe either of you would let one little argument get in the way of your friendship! Just write to him. You don't have to actually send it, you know. But it can help you work through your anger and hurt. I've done it a time or two.
I know where you live, you know.
Pansy
-ooo-ooo-ooo-
Pansy,
There are some things that are too far. He knew right where to hurt me and he didn't just stab me, he twisted the knife. This may be a bridge irrevocably burned.
I'll be changing my wards as soon as I finish this letter.
Hermione
-ooo-ooo-ooo-
Draco,
How dare you!? You are an egotistical, narcissistic arsehole! What gives you the right to speak to me like that? It took every ounce of strength to control the urge to hex you so hard your children's children would feel it! You're a terrible, good for nothing—
-ooo-ooo-ooo-
Draco,
How dare you, you egotistical, narcissistic prat! How dare you presume that you know better than me about what I should be doing and how I should be doing it? I'll have you know that I have every intention of utilizing every avenue open to me, but as I've told you on more than one occasion, I will see this through first. No, I haven't told you every little detail about my plans, but do I need to remind you of the lengths I have gone to in the past? Namely, Marietta Edgecombe? Sending Umbridge to the Centaurs? Using Polyjuice to impersonate someone in order to steal from her vault? While Imperiusing someone along the way? How dare you suggest that I'm not doing everything I possibly can to win this?
-ooo-ooo-ooo-
Draco,
I thought we were friends. I thought I meant something to you. Not the most important person in your world, but I thought you cared for me, respected me. How could you use my deepest insecurities against me? How could you pinpoint the area where I'm most vulnerable, then attack with impunity? Driving your words into my heart like a knife. The worst part is, I let myself feel things for you. I opened myself up to you in ways I've never done with another soul, and you threw it in my face without a second thought. I
-ooo-ooo-ooo-
Draco,
You want to know the truth? The whole, sad, simple truth? I know you'll never read this, and as I sit here, fighting tears, I've realized that everything I'm feeling boils down to this:
I'm in love with you.
Desperately so. But your words yesterday cut me deeper than I'd imagined possible, and I believe the reason is because of how I feel. I've given you the sharpest weapon on earth—power over my heart—and presented it to you, unguarded, unprotected, vulnerable. And even though you don't know that you possess it, your attack laid it to waste.
-ooo-ooo-ooo-
Pansy,
How soon can you come?
Bring both cartons.
Hermione
-ooo-ooo-ooo-
Draco,
I've already started and burned half a dozen letters or more. You'll never see this one, either. I think I could forgive you. Of course I could. But not until you come to me. Apologize to me. I can't tell you how deeply it cut, how many tears I've cried, how your words were perfectly placed to shred my heart.
I'm not sure why I'm still writing this. Except that, over the course of these letters, I have released some of my anger, some of my frustration, shame, and pain, and that is a good thing. When I see you, I will be able to look at you without tears of hot anger burning my eyes, without my fists clenching in an attempt to keep from slapping you—again. Do you remember third year? I should have known then the power you could wield over me if I let you.
I cannot let you have that. I must resist the pull of my heart.
Our friendship will recover, or it won't. That is up to you now.
Hermione
Tuesday, August 15
Hermione arrived at the conference room a full hour before the meeting was scheduled to begin. She had no intention of walking into a room full of people who were set against her. Let them come and find her already there, her notes spread on the table at the front of the room while they found seats facing her. The room was set up like a classroom with a few rows of chairs facing the front of the room, which held a table and a chair.
She, of course, was the teacher.
Hermione had no misconceptions about what was before her. She knew that inviting representatives from both Magical Creatures and Games and Sports would not end well for her. She knew they'd been discussing her efforts—and likely herself—amongst themselves, and she assumed none of it was flattering. She knew she'd be outnumbered, but she had a plan for saying her piece and keeping the meeting short.
While she waited, she went over her notes once more, then spent the remaining time reading a book.
She was still reading when Gerald Crowe, the head of her department, came in. She gave him a friendly smile and inclined her head toward him before returning to her book. She felt a strange sensation of power as he glanced around the room, then awkwardly took a seat in the second row of chairs.
Hermione continued reading.
At five minutes after the meeting was due to begin, the Head of Games and Sports sauntered in, but he, unlike Hermione's superior, brought the entire board with him. She'd been expecting this, however, and merely continued reading. The group greeted Crowe and they continued the conversation they'd been having before entering. Thankfully, Hermione's boss didn't engage the group beyond their initial greeting. After a few minutes, everyone from Games and Sports quieted and turned to her.
With an air of command, Hermione shut her book and stood, smiling. "Thank you so much for coming." She passed out a single sheet of parchment to each person present, then returned to the front of the room. "I know you all know why you're here. I've spoken at length with each of you about the matter at hand, but just so that we're all freshly familiar, here's a brief summary. The Quidditch League wants to build a new stadium, and they've identified a particular forest, distant from Muggle communities, where they wish to build. Unfortunately, there's an entire settlement of pixies that inhabit a large portion of said forest. The Ministry signed a treaty with the pixies over a hundred years ago, giving them the forest. This was done to help mitigate the pixie presence throughout the United Kingdom, as their group had no permanent home before the treaty. A centralized location for pixies to live and flourish made life easier for the Ministry, who were no longer called to all corners of the Kingdom to deal with them."
She paused. Everyone was either looking at the parchment, the floor, or the wall. That was fine. "This should be a simple matter where we tell the Quidditch League that they need to find a different home for their new stadium. But for some reason, this isn't the response I've heard from… well, anybody involved in this matter. I thought it might be profitable to bring the concerned parties together so that we can work through this amicably. Like the grown adults we are."
Garrison Johnson, Head of Games and Sports, folded the parchment into a paper airplane and, with his wand, sent it flying around the room to finally land on the table beside Hermione. He gave her a smug look. "This… treaty… is outdated. It's over a century old, and at the very least should be revisited. But honestly, this whole thing is a waste of our time. The pixies can easily find another forest in which to live; there aren't many places big enough to both house and hide a Quidditch stadium."
She nodded throughout his little rant then turned to her boss. He was squirming, and rightly so. As the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, it was primarily his department's job to fight for the pixies, and she shouldn't have had to do any more than bring the matter to his attention. He knew his responsibility, but he was caving to pressure from Games and Sports, the Quidditch League, and likely the Minister of Magic himself.
Let him squirm.
"You all understand the facts of the matter. If the treaty needs to be revisited, then that should be allowed to happen and the pixies brought into the conversation. And I'm going to go out on a limb and say that you've never been to the pixie home in the pixie's forest, have you, Mr. Johnson?" She didn't wait for his response. "It's no simple matter to move them. That's like asking everyone in London to please budge off and find another place to live because we want to build the world's largest football stadium. The pixie settlement might not be as large as London, but it is just as intricate, just as thriving, and the Ministry doesn't have the right to trample on their lives simply because they're in the way and considered less worthy."
Against her predetermined plan, she was getting a bit worked up, so Hermione paused, took a sip from her tea cup, and inhaled deeply a few times before continuing. The blokes from Games and Sports had started murmuring amongst themselves, and Crowe was wiping sweat from his brow.
Good.
"I haven't called you here to argue." As she spoke, she began gathering her things. "You know all of this, you've heard me say it, and I know you've discussed it with each other and who knows what other departments in the Ministry. I'm here in an attempt to implore you to do the right thing." Hermione finished off her tea, dried her cup and shoved it into her beaded bag. With her arms full, she gave the silent men a condescending smile. "Before it's too late."
Then she walked out.
Hermione knew her display probably hadn't made any difference, but at least she felt like she'd done everything within her power, and the bounds of the Ministry, to bring this injustice to light.
Friday, AUGUST 18
A knock on Hermione's office door made her jump, and she laughed anxiously at herself. "Oh, Harry! You startled me."
He grinned and entered the room. "You said you wanted to talk to me before our weekly lunch?"
"Yes." Hermione capped her ink bottle and placed her quill in its box in her desk drawer. "I'd like to go out for lunch today, if that's alright with you. I've been unsettled all week and a change of scenery would do me some good."
Harry cocked his head slightly, fixing her with a scrutinizing look.
"What?" She couldn't hold his gaze and gathered her bag and a light jumper—in case they went somewhere that was chilly inside. He was Draco's partner, after all; might he have said something to Harry?
"Oh, nothing. Sure, we can go out. There's this sandwich shop Draco's told me about that I've been wanting to try. It's Muggle, but he told me the best way to get there undetected."
Hermione nodded. "Lead the way." Going into Muggle London for lunch was always a hassle. They weren't the only people on their lunch breaks; no, the offices in Muggle London emptied for lunch just like the magical ones. But if Draco knew of an expedient route, then she'd just have to trust Harry.
"How's your week?" he asked as they made their way to the lift.
"Fine. I had a joint meeting with the heads of the Departments of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and Games and Sports earlier this week." She let out a long sigh. "My hope was to mediate some sort of agreement that will allow the pixies to remain where they are, but it became quickly apparent that wasn't going to happen. I said my piece and left."
Harry nodded, weaving through the mass of people in the entrance, the only place within the Ministry from which they could Disapparate. He held out his arm, and Hermione took it, somewhat surprised they'd be Apparating. No sooner had she thought it than the familiar tug began to pull, and in an instant, they landed.
But they weren't in Muggle London. Hermione gasped as she took in her surroundings. They were in a little copse of trees, and in the near distance, she could just make out a village. "Where are we?"
"Wiltshire proper." He grinned. "Come on." They started walking. "Were you disappointed that getting them in the same room had no better outcome than meeting them one on one?"
Hermione sighed. "Honestly? I'm not sure that's the right word. I wasn't really surprised, and so I couldn't really be disappointed about that. If there's any disappointment, it's more in the system behind it all. Even still, I'm not sorry for the route I've taken. As I've said from the beginning—even if some people refuse to actually hear me—I need to go this route, by the book, from the start. Once I've exhausted all my options this way, I'll of course seek alternatives. But I can't have anyone at the Ministry or the Quidditch League say that I didn't try my hardest with them. Nothing will lose me credit faster than that."
"I suppose you're not wrong." After a few moments walking in silence, Harry spoke again. "Any idea when Draco's coming back?"
"To work, you mean?" When Harry nodded, she shook her head. "It's not like he corresponds with me, you know. Not in any sort of regular or meaningful way."
Harry winced. "Something happened, then?"
Hermione groaned. She told Harry about their conversation Saturday, leaving out the bits about seeing his neighbor leaving his house, Pansy having a shouting match with him inside, and any of her feelings for him. She wasn't ready to paint the whole picture to Draco's partner, even though he was one of her closest friends. Harry listened patiently and waited for her to finish.
"And so then I just left because he was being such a complete and total arse."
Harry frowned. "I'm… honestly surprised at him. I wonder what made him snap like that? He isn't usually so rash. Or outspoken. Or—"
"Such a jerk?" Hermione supplied.
"Well, yeah." He looked at her skeptically. "He really told you everyone is laughing at you?"
Hermione forced a wry smile, tears threatening as though she were reliving his cruel words. "He did. I threw a nasty barb at him as well, and he seemed stunned." She let her shoulders droop. "I shouldn't have done that, I know, but the truth is, Harry, that he said exactly what I've been afraid of. My deepest fears about this whole process he just threw in my face with a sneer. I'm surprised he didn't laugh at me himself."
They'd reached the village, and there were enough people in the streets that they didn't speak until they were securely at their table. The Malfoys lived in Wiltshire, and despite the separation of Muggles and wizards, they were still well-known. Hermione knew that Narcissa occasionally had to interact with the Muggles, as the owner of one of the principal homes in the county.
Once their meals were ordered and privacy spells cast, Harry tried to comfort her. "I'm terribly sorry. I know he must feel awful about it."
Hermione snorted. "He's got a funny way of showing it. It's been almost a week, Harry, and not a single owl, not a single attempt to see me. If he'd wanted to apologize, he'd have found a way." Suddenly her appetite was gone and she pushed the plate of breadsticks away. "It just hurt so much coming from him. I'd always thought of him as being on my side, in my corner. He's been nothing but encouraging since I started this venture, and I had every reason to expect that he'd be that way until the conclusion, for better or worse. Now he resents that I haven't accepted his help. Granted, I never let him explain what he wanted to do, how he wanted to help, but it wouldn't have mattered. Actually, he did say that he had some contacts in Games and Sports, and even at the Quidditch League, and he could try and get me meetings with them. Among other things. Oh, I don't know, Harry. Did I make a mistake not accepting?"
Harry shrugged as their food arrived. "You've got to do what you think is best, Hermione. I know you've got strict principles, and if you'd gone about this any other way than what you've done, I think you'd come to regret it. And, if you'd let him help you a lot, you might have come to resent him. I know you don't want that; you two are too close, too good of friends for that."
She felt a little better and gave him a small smile. "Thank you, Harry. I hadn't thought of it that way, but I think you're right. The last thing I'd want to do would be to allow a wedge to grow between us. We work together so closely for the Foundation that it would be awful for there to be tension."
Harry peered at her. "Is that… all?"
Hermione blinked at him and ate a chip. "What do you mean? What else would there be? I think we'll get through this fight much better than we would have weathered such a potentially dramatic series of events if I'd taken his offers. I can absolutely see myself regretting such a decision and then, as you said, resenting him when all along it had been my choice to cave in to his offer."
"This is about your friendship with him?"
"Yes, Harry. It's not like there's anything else going on." The words struck her, and she found herself wishing things could be different. But the dressing down he'd given her left no room for any doubt.
"Okay. I'm just really sorry." Harry gave her a sheepish grin. "Maybe he was having a bad day?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. She considered telling Harry about what had preceded the breakfast, but in the end, she didn't think it was egregious enough to warrant Draco's behavior, so she kept it to herself. "Even if he was, that doesn't make it okay."
"No, of course not. Have you reached out to him? I know you said he hadn't owled…"
"I've done nothing wrong." She sat up taller. "So there's no reason for me to be the one. He was the arse, Harry." She pursed her lips in thought. "I'll apologize for my barb when he apologizes for the skewering he gave me. After all, there are about a hundred better ways to say what he said without getting nasty."
Harry sighed and put his fork down on his empty plate. "I agree. I hope he'll come around soon."
"Me too. I'm not worried about our friendship. Much." She worried her lip, frowning at him apprehensively. "Should I be?"
Harry shook his head, then stood and picked up his tray. "No. It's just a rough patch. You'll get through it. I've got to get back to a meeting. I really can't wait until Draco comes back."
She smiled, trying to feel as confident as Harry sounded. She'd honestly expected to hear from Draco by now, so the fact that he hadn't written or even come by troubled her. She was still very hurt by his words, but she was also very ready to talk through it with him and move on.
Hopefully they'd talk before too long.
They requested their bill, counted out their totals, and left the money on the table. "Oh, I just remembered. Ginny would love to see you. I think she's about to go out of her mind."
"Tell her I'll stop by soon."
"Thanks Hermione." He grinned warmly. "She'll be really glad."
Sunday, AUGUST 20
Hermione,
It has come to my attention that you are seeking a solicitor. Further, that nobody wants to work with you. I'm afraid the word has gone out about what you're trying to do, and nobody wants to touch your project. This is unsettling but unfortunately not surprising. Going up against the Ministry, not to mention the Quidditch League, is often an exercise in futility.
I know you have turned down my previous offers of assistance, and I hesitate to try again, but since this is a slightly different offer, I thought I'd risk it. My personal solicitor, who works for my family and also the Foundation, has agreed to hear your presentation. As he is paid by me, he need not worry about his future and is therefore free to take on cases nobody else will touch.
Since he works exclusively for me, I cannot allow anyone else to retain his services. Therefore, any expenses incurred will be my responsibility, as this is not Foundation business.
Please let me know if you are amenable to meeting with him.
Narcissa
-ooo-ooo-ooo-
Narcissa,
I appreciate your offer more than I can say. You're right; I had a horrible time even getting someone to talk to me, and after the first few attempts, all of my appointments cancelled and no one would return my messages. I'd suspected that there was a concerted effort to avoid me.
Contrary to popular opinion, I am not unreasonable. I am past the point of painstakingly working my way through the 'proper' channels. As such, I would like very much to accept your offer and meet with your solicitor. Please let him know that I'd like to set something up as soon as possible."
Hermione
-ooo-ooo-ooo-
Hermione,
I cannot express my delight upon receiving your reply! I'll admit, I didn't expect a favorable response. I've already spoken with Jenkins, my solicitor, and he's available first thing Tuesday. Let's say, nine o'clock? Would you rather come here, to the Manor? Or meet in his office in London?
Since I know you'll ask, let me tell you a little about him. I met Jenkins following the second Board Meeting for the Foundation. One of the members suggested him to me as a good candidate to join the team as legal council. I liked him so much, and I agreed with his philosophy so completely, that I decided to hire him as the family solicitor as well, replacing the ancient wizard Lucius had chosen who, as you can imagine, was a staunch pureblood supremacist.
He is kind, thoughtful, slow to speak, and ready to listen. I think you two will get on swimmingly.
Narcissa
-ooo-ooo-ooo-
Narcissa,
Nine is perfect. Let's meet in London, as it'll be slightly more convenient for getting to the Ministry afterwards. I look forward to seeing you.
Hermione
The few letters of correspondence from Narcissa were spread on Hermione's desk. It felt a bit strange to now accept her help after rebuffing it for so long, but she felt she had finally exhausted her efforts through Ministry channels. If Draco had only waited, had only trusted her and let her follow her own path, she'd be more than ready to hear what he had to say.
Tuesday, AUGUST 22
To her surprise, the address Narcissa had sent turned out to be in Diagon Alley. As her flat was in the residential part of the wizarding community, she only had to walk a few blocks to reach the correct building.
Hermione was shown into a small conference room that was simply but richly furnished. She found Narcissa there already, in conversation with a wizard who could only be Jenkins. To her great surprise, he wasn't wearing stiff, perfectly tailored robes with expensive details and dragon-hide boots. Instead, he wore robes designed for comfort and, after glancing quickly at his feet, sandals. He made a very striking contrast to Narcissa, dressed impeccably, as always. The secretary introduced Hermione, and Narcissa smiled at her brightly.
"Hermione, dear. So glad we could make this work." She crossed the room, took Hermione's arm, and led her over to Jenkins. "My solicitor, Abram Jenkins. Abram, this is Hermione Granger."
Jenkins held out his hand, and Hermione shook it. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Granger." He was an older man, had to be at least a hundred, but rather than appear stuffy, as she'd expected, he reminded her more of Dumbledore when he was at his most jovial. It must have been the twinkle in his eyes.
"I believe we've met already." Hermione smiled. "At a Foundation event, last year I believe, and had a lengthy conversation about the merits of Stingweed in the garden."
Jenkins let out a roaring laugh. "Oh, I think we'll have to continue to agree to disagree on that point." He clapped his hands. "So, Miss Granger. Narcissa's told me the basics of what's going on, but I'd like to hear from you." He motioned for her to sit, and then he and Narcissa did as well.
"What would you like to know?" Hermione asked, folding her hands on the table.
"Why don't you start from the beginning? I'd like to hear how you got involved, what you've done so far, and the response you've received. I can guess as to the generalities, but I'd like to know specifics." He folded his arms and sat back in his chair, his whole attention focused on her.
Hermione cleared her throat and began. She spoke for over thirty minutes, Jenkins only interrupting twice to ask for clarification. When she finished, nobody said a word at first.
Jenkins frowned thoughtfully, rocking slightly in his seat. Hermione glanced to Narcissa, who seemed perfectly at ease, as though it was normal for him to spend many silent minutes in her presence.
Finally, Jenkins leaned forward on the table. "I believe, Miss Granger, that you must prepare for your efforts to be unsuccessful. Not because they are without merit—quite the contrary, your case is compelling and should be an easy win. The fact that you've met with resistance on what, at first blush, appears to be very straight-forward, is what concerns me. There is a reason why this Quidditch stadium plan is still moving forward despite a very clear treaty with the pixies in the forest."
Hermione scoffed. "Yeah. Galleons. It's very simple."
Jenkins nodded. "I've no doubt you're right. Are you prepared to lose?"
"But—how can I? You just said yourself that it's a very clear case, one that shouldn't have even gotten this far!" She was incredulous at the man's attitude, despite liking him.
"In my experience, when the Ministry wants something, the Ministry gets it." He smiled kindly. "I would be very happy to work with you, Miss Granger. I believe you are in the right, no matter the outcome, but I need you to fully accept the probability that you will lose."
Hermione bit her lip. The thought of ultimately failing in her efforts had never entered her mind. After her first meeting with her boss, back in June, she knew she'd be in for a battle. When the meeting with her department head had gone even worse, a cold weight had settled into her stomach and she'd realized that going through the Ministry would most likely not produce the result she hoped for.
Yet because her cause had been right, both ethically and legally, she'd taken it for granted that, in the end, somehow, she would be victorious. And now, in her first meeting with someone as she sought to go outside the usual Ministry channels, she was being told that it was most likely she'd lose.
"Forgive me, Mr. Jenkins. How can you say that you agree with me but then in the next breath, tell me we'll probably lose?"
"I certainly don't know what will happen, of course." He spread out his hands. "I only know that, for many decades, I've been taking cases before the Wizengamot—cases which should have been simple, straight-forward—only to see the Ministry do what it wished. Sometimes, that happened to coincide with what I wished, but I was never under any illusions that they ruled in my favor because it was the right thing to do—or, at least, what I felt was right. Like so many of the human race, they are motivated primarily by power, content to pass laws that are helpful to the populace when it also suits their agenda." He smiled warmly. "However, that doesn't mean we don't still try. What do you say? Shall we work together on this?"
Hermione's blood was boiling as she thought of the Ministry, of its antiquated laws, its attitude towards those considered 'less-than-human,' and the way it treated Harry throughout the war. She wasn't ready to accept that they wouldn't win, but she did see Jenkins's point. His last statement, that just because one knows or suspects one will lose, doesn't mean one shouldn't try, resonated deeply with her.
"I'm in."
Jenkins beamed. "Excellent, most excellent. Let's meet back here in a few days after I've had a chance to familiarize myself with the details. You can send me everything you've found, and I'll be able to read through it all." He stood.
Hermione did as well. "Thank you, Mr. Jenkins. I will do that."
Monday, AUGUST 28
Hermione left straight from work to head to the Potter home. She went to Diagon Alley and grabbed a bouquet of flowers, a tub of Ginny's favorite ice cream, and a wooden rattle for the baby before Apparating to her friends' house. She hadn't been there for a couple of weeks and she felt bad for such a long gap between visits.
Harry let her in with a quick hug, then took the ice cream. "Shall I prepare bowls for you two?"
She laughed. "You know your wife well."
They went into the kitchen, where Harry procured the necessary items for serving the ice cream. "How are things going with Jenkins?"
Hermione beamed. "Oh, Harry, I can't tell you how wonderful it is that someone is listening to me!" She shrugged out of her cloak and hung it on a hook by the door. "He's also doing his best to temper my expectations—and has a very low opinion of justice at the Ministry—but I can't help but be excited. He actually listens to every single point I have, he asks questions, he challenges my point of view, all in an effort to make the case stronger."
"That's wonderful! Has nobody ever done that before?" Harry looked shocked.
She shifted her weight, her lips pursing slightly. "Well, Draco did. But not exactly. I can't explain it. Jenkins knows wizarding law better than anyone I've ever met, and while Draco meant well, he couldn't give me the insight Jenkins can."
Harry put the lid on the ice cream and found a spot for it in the refrigerator. "So you're hopeful, then?"
"Yes. Even though Jenkins tells me not to be." She poured herself a glass of water and carried it and her bowl into the living room. "I don't see how we can lose, Harry. The law is clearly on our side."
He carried Ginny's bowl and followed her. After setting it down, he gave her a skeptical look. "I'm with Jenkins, Hermione. If anybody can find a way to screw up and willfully ignore the law, it's the Ministry."
Ginny entered the room then and clapped her hands upon seeing the ice cream. "Hermione, you're amazing. And these flowers are beautiful!" They hugged, and Hermione handed over the rattle, wrapped neatly in a bit of paper with a ribbon to tie it closed. "You didn't have to!"
"It's not much."
"Eloise is sleeping, but come on back and you can see her. I just set her down on the bed so I could change my shirt, and she was asleep when I turned around." Ginny motioned toward her bed where Eloise lay, her arms slightly splayed, wrapped in a soft, gauzy blanket.
"Oh, Gin, she is perfect!" Hermione got as close as she dared, admiring every little wrinkle, every breath, every little sound she made.
"I know," said Ginny with a grin. Then she yawned. "I'm sorry."
Harry poked his head around the corner. "Ginny, I've put a Stasis Charm on the ice cream, but you know it's not quite the same if you leave it a long time. Why don't you two go eat? I'll stay in here in case Eloise wakes up."
Ginny kissed him briefly on the cheek. "I would jump you right now if, you know, we didn't have company."
Hermione shook her head and chuckled while Harry turned as red as Ginny's hair. His wife laughed as she led Hermione down the hall. They collected their bowls and went into the sitting room. Ginny propped her feet up on the coffee table and eyed her bowl. "I hope this is enough. I'll probably need more."
Hermione laughed. "How have you been? Getting enough rest?"
"Oh, well, I sleep when I can. Mum's been great, taking James for a couple of nights here and there. He's with my parents tonight, actually, since I mentioned that you were stopping by."
"I'm sure it's wonderful having so much family around." Her heart ached for a moment at the thought that she only had her parents, and should she ever have a child, she'd want her mother there as much as possible.
Ginny shrugged as she took another large bite. "Yeah, it's great when it's great. But you know, it has its drawbacks, too."
"I'm sure it does." Hermione ate her ice cream slowly, one small bite at a time. Her mind wandered to Draco, whom she still hadn't heard a word from. Maybe she had hurt him more than she'd imagined. Everything was compounded by the fact that, thanks to Pansy, she'd just opened her heart and mind up to the idea that maybe, possible, he did have feelings for her.
"Earth to Hermione!"
She looked up, startled from her thoughts, to find that the spoon she was holding, with a generous bite of ice cream on it, was resting on the edge of the bowl. It had been so long since she'd moved that the treat was beginning to melt.
"Sorry," she said sheepishly, eating the bite.
"Where were you just now?" Ginny peered at her with fresh interest. "Had to be something good. I was in the middle of a long, drawn-out tale of how Ron and Charlie once got into a fight and turned the entire field around our house into a swamp, complete with American alligators and Burmese pythons. I thought for sure you'd start correcting me on what types of trees could live in such an environment, but you just nodded blankly."
Hermione chuckled. "Really?"
Ginny nodded, then nudged Hermione with her knee. "So spill. You owe me. My story was bordering on absurd so I need something really interesting to make up for it."
Hermione sighed and set her bowl down. She hadn't told anybody about her feelings, and she was desperate to talk to someone about it. Pansy simply wouldn't do, much as she liked the witch. The only thing that held her back from telling Ginny was Harry. Could she keep it from him?
"If I tell you something, you have to promise not to speak a word of it to anyone."
Ginny's eyes lit up and she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "You're shagging someone."
Hermione blinked then shook her head. "No, Ginny. Nowhere close to that. Do you want to know or not?"
Ginny nodded eagerly. "I won't tell a soul."
"Not even Harry."
Something like indecision flashed through Ginny's eyes, then she waved a hand. "All right. Sure. Not even Harry."
"I mean it, Gin. This is… well, it's important to me. Harry cannot know. Specifically." She felt like surely Ginny was about to guess the truth. What possible reason would Hermione have for not wanting Harry to find out? Naturally, her very biased mind reasoned that it would have to be about Harry's partner.
Ginny raised an eyebrow. "You're not in love with Harry, right?"
Hermione made a face. "No offense, but gross, Ginny." She shuddered.
"Fine. Fine, I won't tell Harry. I promise." She pulled out her wand and muttered a secrecy spell. "I swear I won't repeat what you say between casting this spell and then ending it."
"You didn't need to do that." She still relaxed anyway.
"I know, but I can tell when you're very serious and I didn't want to sit and go through twenty minutes of back and forth promises and hesitation. Now. Tell me what's so important." Ginny snuggled further into the sofa, pulling the ice cream bowl close again.
Hermione bit her lip. Now that she was on the cusp of speaking words out loud that had only spun round in her head, she wasn't sure how to get them out. "Um. Yes, well. Let's see. It's just—"
"You miss Marcus?"
Hermione frowned. "I don't, actually. Why?"
Ginny took a large bit of ice cream. "Just throwing things out there. Although, I suppose it wouldn't be too hard for you to say you miss your ex-boyfriend. Wait, did he even get that title? I want to say no. So, it's not Marcus. But it's something."
"I can say it." Hermione spoke through clenched teeth, more because she was annoyed at herself than Ginny.
"But it's fun guessing. Hm, let me think." Ginny studied her carefully as she took a few more bites. "You fancy someone?"
Hermione nodded.
"And I can't tell Harry, which is an important detail." Ginny's eyes began widening to the side of saucers. "It's Malfoy, isn't it?"
"Why would you say that?"
Ginny shrugged. "Makes sense as to why I can't tell Harry. Although, I don't think Harry would run off and tell him. I'm not sure they have that kind of relationship. I know he respects Malfoy a lot and hates who he's been paired with lately, but the last thing he would do is meddle in your relationship with him."
Hermione let out a long breath. "You don't hate the idea?"
"You and Malfoy? No. Pansy's in favor of it, I think. Based on some things she's said."
"I'm not sure I ever really know what Pansy thinks about things. I've heard her list half a dozen women she thinks might be suited for him." Technically, this was true. Over the months since Pansy had waltzed into their lives in a significant way as Ron's girlfriend, she'd talked about Draco and his love life more times than Hermione could count. Nothing had ever been stated with much evidence or conviction, though Pansy had connected him with her more than with anyone else. Hermione had concluded it was simply because she was the one Pansy was talking to. Plus, by Pansy's own observations, Draco spent more time with her than any of the others.
"Oh, she certainly thinks you're the best candidate for owning his heart." Ginny tilted the bowl up to her lips, drinking the melted remains of her ice cream. "She's narrowed it down to you. I'm sure she doesn't talk to you about it that much, but she's been spending a lot of time at The Burrow lately—though I haven't been in a few weeks, since Eloise was born—and it was one of her favorite topics. I don't know why." Ginny set her bowl down and repositioned herself on the sofa to better face Hermione. "Well? Tell me everything! When did this start? Does he know? Have you gone out with him?"
"No! He doesn't know!" Hermione gasped in horror. "He's currently quite angry with me, in point of fact."
"Why?"
Hermione took a deep breath and told Ginny everything. From the first night out when Pansy mentioned that she thought they'd be good together, to all the time spent trying not to think about what Pansy had said, to the night when she realized she did, in fact, have feelings for him, Pansy's opinion that he fancied her as well, then finally ending up with the disastrous brunch in Hogsmeade.
Ginny sat wide-eyed through the whole thing. When Hermione finished her tale, Ginny sat back, mulling over everything she'd just said. "And he hasn't reached out?"
"No. Nothing. I've concluded that, somehow, his anger toward me had been building and I had no idea. I think it finally just exploded that day." She looked at her hands in her lap, tears blurring her vision. She didn't want to cry about this again, but speaking everything out loud had been both difficult and important. When she repeated his words for Ginny, she felt their sting again.
"I don't think, just because he yelled at you, that necessarily means he doesn't fancy you."
Hermione's heart sank. "You weren't there, Gin. You didn't see his face, feel the waves of anger pouring off him." She shook her head. "No, I'm now completely convinced that Pansy is absolutely wrong. He's spent more time with his neighbor than me, lately, anyway. On the off chance that he once did have feelings for me, I'm sure they're long gone. I told you, he's been pulling away from me, even in our friendship, the last few months. We'd come close to clashing over this pixie business before that Saturday, not because he doesn't agree with me, but, as he so loudly shouted at me, because I wouldn't accept his help."
Ginny sighed and was about to speak when she heard the baby start to cry. "What horrible timing! Let me grab her." She started to get up but Harry appeared, bouncing Eloise as he came. He brought her to Ginny who started to nurse her.
Harry then went into the kitchen and returned a moment later with a large glass of water for Ginny. She thanked him gratefully and shooed him away.
But Hermione had no intention of discussing Draco anymore. She'd shared her feelings with Ginny, felt a little bit better about it, and was perhaps a little closer to putting them behind her.
ooo
Hermione Apparated home after a lovely evening with her friends and their newborn. At one point, Eloise fell asleep on her, and she got to cradle the tiny human in her arms for over an hour. She made gentle humming sounds as she breathed, and Hermione was thoroughly enchanted.
With the end of the month nearing, Hermione felt slightly adrift. Her progress with the pixie case had failed within the Ministry, through normal, bureaucratic channels, and now she was embarking on a very different journey.
She'd confessed her feelings for Draco, while at the same time concluding that they were hopeless. What a difference a month made, as it was only at the end of July that she'd wondered if he might feel something for her. As the weeks stretched on with no word from him, she was beginning to wonder if their friendship was even salvageable. She didn't like to think of it ending, but she wasn't going to be the one to reach out first.
Although… she knew she had a stubborn streak, and she knew that he did, too. Perhaps she was being too stubborn. Maybe, if she apologized for her barb, he would soften and do the same. It was something she'd need to consider because, when she really thought about it, she didn't want to lose his friendship.
That said, however, she wanted him to be the one to reach out. And honestly, she was still hurt when she thought about it, so she didn't see herself trying to talk to him anytime soon. For now, if he missed her, at all, or even just a little bit, he would have to come to her.