Ron stretched his arms as he woke up, sunlight streaming through the windows. Looking to his left, he noticed Hermione was not next to him. That's odd, he thought.
"Hey, Hermione, you still here?" Ron called through the open bedroom door as he headed for the bathroom, wondering if she had decided that she was still angry at him over the scene at the restaurant after all. Nah, not after that picnic, Ron thought with a grin. Definitely one of my more romantic ideas, if I do say so myself. As he brushed his teeth, a sleek, jet black owl flew through the window and dropped a letter on the bed. It gave a regal hoot, and promptly flew back out.
Picking up the envelope, Ron noticed that the Ministry of Magic coat of arms was stamped onto the front. Fond memories of Hogwarts letters arriving at his home, and perhaps not so fond ones of letters where teachers were complaining about him, played themselves in his mind. Cringing as he recalled the Howler his mother sent him in his second year, Ron proceeded to open the letter.
Dear Mr. Ronald Bilius Weasley,
You have been accepted for a preliminary interview regarding your application to be instated as a junior member of the Auror task force. Following this interview, you will be sent another owl notifying you as to whether you have been cleared to join us. Your interview has been scheduled for the 21st of August, at 2:30 p.m. in Room 315 of the Auror Headquarters.
Wishing you all the best,
Darius Praetorian
Head of Auror Department
Department of Magical Law Enforcement
Ministry of Magic
Ron's fingers trembled as he read the letter twice over. An interview, he thought, I'm almost there! Giving a whoop of excitement, Ron began calling Hermione's name again. There was no response, which was why he was surprised to find her sitting at the dining table.
Hermione's eyes were glazed as she stared off into space, stirring her almost repulsively soggy cereal. Shaking his head, Ron assumed she was obsessing about work, judging by how she was already prepared to leave. Tapping her on the shoulder, Hermione started and snapped at him, evidently not appreciating being forced out of her daydream.
"What's your problem?" Ron snapped back, heading to the kitchen. "Bloody hell, you'd think we didn't just get engaged…" Hermione leapt to her feet and followed him.
"Wait! Ron, I'm sorry, I just…I'm just a little tired, okay? I'm sorry, I didn't get much sleep. There's just these internship interviews coming up, and I think my boss might be mad at me because last week she…" Ron found himself unable to sustain his annoyance as Hermione went off, smiling as she seemingly talked about seven different problems at the same time. She suddenly stopped when Ron stepped towards her and gently kissed her. He broke away, still holding her in a light embrace, when her tense shoulders began to relax.
As he was about to tell her to finish her breakfast, a small crack emanated from the living room. Ron stepped out of the kitchen to see George standing by the door. He didn't notice Hermione turn a distinct shade of pink because he was looking at how haggard his brother looked. George had a hollow look as if he hadn't slept in weeks, which was strange because he had seemed fine at Teddy's party yesterday. Well, Ron corrected himself, not fine, but he definitely didn't look as through the ringer as he does now.
"Is there some new, sleep skipping ritual everyone's doing?" Ron asked with a laugh, serving himself some toast. "Want to join us, George? We've got cereal, toast, eggs, ham, and some fairly questionable fruit which I picked out at the store the other day…" George nodded, sitting across from Ron, who did not notice how his brother and fiancée were avoiding eye contact with each other. "Anyway, guess what? The Ministry gave me an interview!" Ron said, wondering if he would ever get bored of saying it. Perhaps when he was saying "The Ministry gave me a job!"
"That's great, little brother," George said, pasting an unconvincing smile on his face. Hermione continued to stare intently at the floor. "Well, I should get back to the store, then." George started to get up, before Ron shook his head and drained his tea.
"Nah, I need to get to the Hog's Head, actually. Need to tell Aberforth I might get the job. Stay, finish eating. Hermione hates eating alone, right?" Ron headed to the fireplace, entirely oblivious about how uncomfortable Hermione and George were, and Flooed over to the Hog's Head.
George turned to Hermione, and opened his mouth to say something, and found he had no idea where to begin. The awful silence between them seemed to stretch on for days, before George's attempts to apologize turned into odd, choking noises. Suddenly, Hermione burst out laughing. She attempted to stifle it with her hand, but it was no use. As tears began streaming down her face, George couldn't help but join in, somehow finding the humor in the bizarre situation.
As they both soothed their aching ribcages, George apologized in earnest.
"Hermione, I can't tell you how sorry I am about last night. There's no excuse for what I did. You've always been like a sister to me, and the last thing I ever wanted to do was…I just can't believe how much of an arse I made of myself. I honestly don't know what got into me," he said, standing up.
"I can think of one thing," Hermione replied as he winced with the pain of a blinding hangover migraine. "Come on, into the kitchen. Ron's got a great hangover cure." George gingerly followed her.
"Hermione, I really am-" he began, only to be cut off when Hermione held up a hand.
"Let's deal with your migraine first," she said as she waved her wand and the ingredients for Ron's famed hangover cure began floating towards her. After a few moments, Hermione held out a glass with a dark green, soupy liquid, which George accepted with apprehension. "I wouldn't think too hard about what's in it," she advised. "Believe me, it's better than anything roiling around in there." Hermione gave George's stomach a light poke.
"Oh god, don't do that," George groaned, leaning against the kitchen counter. Hermione laughed as George drained the glass, unable to stop his face from contorting with disgust. "Oh, Merlin's left buttock, that's so much better," he sighed with relief, closing his eyes. "You're the best, Hermione," George said, without thinking.
And with that, the spell of light-heartedness was broken. George's eyes snapped open and his face turned bright, beetroot red, while Hermione suddenly became intensely fascinated with her fingernails. "I'm…I'm just going to go," He said and hurried out of the kitchen. Hermione nodded absentmindedly, before realizing what he had said.
"Wait, George. We do need to talk about this. You're starting to…" By the time she got to the dining table, she heard the crack and saw that George was gone. Hermione sighed heavily. "Scare us," she said to herself, hoping against hope that someone would get through to him.
As George materialized in the joke shop, he found that the Apparition had brought back his migraine with a vengeance. Even if there were more comfortable, albeit slower, modes of transport, George had always stuck to Apparition. Of course, he was beginning to reconsider this as he propped himself up against a shelf, feeling as though twelve, thickset dwarves were banging sledgehammers on the inside of his brain. Groaning slightly, he began busying himself with a little boy who wanted to know about the Puking Pastilles.
The sudden headache attacks throughout the day became more bearable as George got used to them. It was still difficult to handle when he was busy with a customer, but he managed to ignore them until he got to the bathroom. Blinking his eyes after a particularly nasty attack, George reappeared all smiles. He had learned how to pretend to be the same fun-loving boss he had been before Fred left. Whenever he thought to himself, sober, George never thought about Fred dying. He always said to himself, since Fred left.
As he continued the charade, he got a dour-faced sixteen-year-old Goth boy (he could never remember the names of the part-time summer hires) to stop inspecting his black nail-polish and mind the fake wands while he took over the cash register. George found it was easiest at the register. He didn't have to make as big an act as he did when he was helping customers. The bell above the front door tinkled, and George looked up to see who entered. He took a sharp intake of breath.
The customer who walked in was a girl. George found himself staring at her. She was wearing a lime-green blouse, her arms folded across her chest, and a slightly short, black skirt. She had a light brown complexion, and her raven-black hair hung down just past her shoulders. As she started talking to the boy by the fake wands, George guessed she was Spanish or something from her accent.
"And who is that?" asked Dean Thomas, standing next to George. Dean had taken up a job there a few months after leaving Hogwarts, and eventually decided not to look for other jobs. George shrugged, not quite knowing why he almost felt like he wasn't so traumatized by Fred's absence.
"No idea," he said quietly as Goth Boy began talking in an uncharacteristically animated fashion to the newcomer. Half cursing himself for switching with the boy, George stared moodily at the register.
"Alright, but just one more time, okay?" Harry said sighing, as Teddy reached up to grab away his wand. Harry quickly whipped it out of the way, before whispering a spell to himself. Out of the wand, a spark of pale, blue light appeared. Teddy stared, transfixed by it until it flew like a rocket at him.
Sneezing and laughing, Teddy leapt at Harry, tickling him. Ginny watched from a nearby armchair, doing some paperwork for her job at Witch Weekly, and smiling. Ginny was a Junior Editor at the magazine, and was starting to introduce more concrete stories than ones about Gilderoy Lockhart's nephew's engagement to the much older musician Calista Warbeck. Harry looked over at her as Teddy attacked him, grinning at her. Eventually, Harry overpowered him, tickling him back.
"Be careful you don't spoil your dinners, you two!" Ginny called. "Speaking of which, can you get started on that, Harry?" As Harry started to get up to head to the kitchen, Teddy grabbed onto his arm and pouted.
"Uncle Harry, I want to play!" the boy insisted. "Can't Kreacher make dinner?" Before Harry could respond, Kreacher appeared with a crack, breathing hard. Harry exchanged a look with Ginny. Kreacher was getting on in age, but refused to listen to his master when he tried to explain to the house-elf that he needed to rest. Harry and Ginny didn't want to force clothes on Kreacher, but they also didn't want the elf overwork himself. They both hoped very much it wouldn't come to freeing Kreacher as a way of lightening his load.
"Kreacher is here, Master Teddy," Kreacher wheezed. Harry looked down at the house-elf and noted that the towel Kreacher wrapped around his waist was starting to get dirty, as he was starting to neglect washing it.
"Oh, um, Kreacher, I actually think you can rest for a bit," Harry said gently. "I'm just going to make us some dinner, so…"
"Master Harry!" Kreacher interrupted, aghast. "Dinner is Kreacher's job! Is Master displeased with Kreacher?" Kreacher's large oval eyes began to shine, causing Harry to wrestle with himself about how to respond.
"No, Kreacher, of course not-"
"Then Kreacher will make dinner?" Harry sighed and exchanged another look with Ginny, who gave him a resigned nod. After Harry gave Kreacher his instructions, he turned back to Teddy, who was beaming up at him.
"Okay, Teddy, we need to have a little talk," Harry said, crouching down and meeting Teddy's eyes. "Just because we have Kreacher around doesn't mean we can just order him to do things we can easily do ourselves." Teddy thought about this for a minute before looking back up at him, confused.
"Why not?" Teddy asked earnestly.
"Because he's the same as us, Teddy," Harry said. "And just like us, he needs his rest. You know how you get sleepy before bedtime?" Teddy nodded. "Would you like it if Aunt Ginny told you to clean the house when you got sleepy?"
"No!" Teddy said at once. "That's not fair! I need to sleep when I'm sleepy."
"That's right. And you want to be fair to Kreacher as well, right?" Teddy nodded again. "Well, Kreacher gets sleepy sometimes just like us. So, even if he wants to work, we need to make sure he gets his rest. Does that make sense?" Again, Teddy looked down, thinking.
"So, when Kreacher gets sleepy, we can't make him work, because we don't have to work when we get sleepy?" Teddy asked, looking back up. Harry smiled and ruffled the boy's hair.
"Exactly. Kreacher's family, and we need to look after him, okay?"
"Okay. I'm sorry, Uncle Harry." Harry hugged Teddy before handing him the toy broomstick to occupy himself. Teddy bounded over to Ginny and gave her a hug as well, before climbing on the broomstick and zooming out into their backyard.
"Did you have to make me the bad guy in your example?" Ginny asked with a laugh.
"He wasn't exactly going to be scared of the idea of me ordering him to do something, now was he?" Harry shot back. Ginny rolled her eyes, before glancing up at the kitchen with a concerned look on her face. As she returned to her work, Harry smiled at how much Ginny had grown to care for Kreacher, particularly given how nervous she had once been around him.
When Kreacher first started living at the Burrow with him, the Weasleys had been quite apprehensive of him. All of them aside from Ron, of course. The youngest Weasley brother, along with Harry and Hermione, had also enjoyed Kreacher's cooking and more pleasant company during their brief stay at Grimmauld Place in the midst their search for the Horcruxes. The rest of the Weasleys, however, only remembered Kreacher as the grouchy, rude, nutter of an elf he had been while Sirius owned the house.
Eventually, though, they came around. Mrs. Weasley especially took to Kreacher. Harry had known it had been her dream to have a house-elf to help with the chores. He had considered ordering Kreacher to stay with the Weasleys. However, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley overhead him discussing the plan with Ginny, and they refused to take Harry's house-elf, promising to instead set him free if Harry told him to stay.
"Why don't I help?" Harry asked, sitting next to Ginny on the arm of her chair. Ginny shook her head, not looking up from her work. "Look, it's like when I helped you with homework when we were first dating, remember?" Harry allowed his hand to slide over her shoulders. Ginny smiled, but removed his hand.
"I also remember that we never got much done," she said, which was ignored by Harry. "Oh, don't..." she sighed, as Harry began massaging her neck. "Harry, my work, I need to...oh..." Harry smiled to himself as her resolve started to break.
"So, work," he said, turning her to face him. He pointed his wand at the door to the backyard which Teddy had left open, and it swung shut. Leaning down, Harry kissed her lips. Ginny gave up, wrapping her arms around his neck and exploring his hair with her fingers. Kissing him back, she slid her hands down to his collar and pulled him onto the armchair.
The world began to melt away. Nothing else mattered. It had been some time since he had been alone with Ginny, and with Kreacher in the kitchen and Teddy playing in the yard, they finally had time to themselves. It didn't last long as a pop sounded outside, and the front door swung open. Oh, bugger..., Harry thought as Ron entered with an amused expression. Ginny too groaned and pushed Harry away from her.
"So, this is your version of 'working from home', huh, Gin?" Ron asked. Ginny gave him a withering look. Ron laughed as Ginny shoved Harry off the chair, getting back to her work. Giving him a sheepish look, Harry summoned some drinks for them. "So, my interview is in a couple of days, when's yours?" Ron asked, taking a swig of Butterbeer.
What interview? Harry gave Ron a quizzical look, and Ron raised his eyebrows, as though he thought Harry was being funny. He slowly came to realization that Harry actually had no idea what he was talking about. Harry narrowed his eyes as Ron's ears started turning red and he averted his eyes from Harry's gaze.
"What interview?" Harry asked, a little harsher than he intended to. He was starting to get an inkling of an idea as Ron started mumbling under his breath. Ginny stopped her work once again and looked over, frowning. "Ron, what is going on?"
"It's nothing major," he said quickly, giving Harry the distinct impression that this was a bald-faced lie. "Just that, this morning I got an owl from the Ministry..." Harry's heart started hammering as Ron told him about the letter. He, strangely enough, felt like he was sixteen again, awaiting his OWLs results. Why hadn't he received one?
Ron was about to say something as a large barn owl swooped in and dropped a letter on top of Ginny's paperwork. Harry's heartbeat slowed down to its normal pace. This would be the letter, he realized, inviting him to an interview. Ginny, slightly annoyed about the latest disruption to her work, handed the letter to Harry. A look of relief crossed Ron's face, but Harry wasn't paying attention to him anymore. Opening the letter, he stared dumbly at the words.
Dear Mr. Harry James Potter,
We are sorry to inform you that we are unable to grant you an interview to further your application to become a junior member of the Auror task force. Your application has been rejected on the basis of unsatisfactory qualifications. We base our judgment on the fact that you did not complete your education at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We deeply regret having to reject your application, and wish you well in all your future endeavors.
Yours Sincerely,
Darius Praetorian
Head of Auror Department
Department of Magical Law Enforcement
Ministry of Magic
Harry continued to stare at the piece of parchment. Excitement had been pounding through him like adrenaline, but now he felt cold and empty. Ron took the letter, and his jaw dropped at the sight of the words. This did nothing to improve Harry's mood, nor did his friend's bellow of indignation. Ginny got to her feet, abandoning her work completely.
"Those crazy gits!" Ron yelled, passing the letter to Ginny. "It's got to be a mistake, mate," he added to Harry. Ginny looked up into Harry's eyes. A tiny bit of the disappointment and anger ebbed away as Harry looked back into hers. But it wasn't enough. Snatching the letter from Ginny, he tore it to shreds and tossed it into the fireplace. Teddy zoomed back into the house, presumably after hearing Ron's voice, and was laughing as Harry stormed away. Noticing Harry's temper, Teddy's smile fell and he came to an abrupt stop.
Slamming the bedroom door shut behind him, Harry put a Silencing Charm on the door, and let out a roar of frustration. The injustice welled up inside him, like rising lava in a volcano. He slammed his fists against the wall, yelling at it. Unsatisfactory qualifications...unable to grant you an interview...your application has been rejected...separate phrases from the letter shone out in Harry's mind. Unsatisfactory qualifications? Among his many feelings was abject disbelief at the Ministry's unmitigated nerve to even suggest it. As Harry entered adulthood, he had begun to think it was silly of him to blame the Ministry of Magic itself for what a few ignorant and power-hungry politicians had done. But now, with the words "unsatisfactory qualifications" burned in his mind's eye, he wondered if he had in fact been right about the place all along.
Harry heard the bedroom door open behind him, and he quickly composed himself. It wouldn't be fair for him to take out his anger on Ginny. After all, she hadn't written the letter. However, doing the fair thing seemed to be slightly lost on the Ministry, Harry thought wryly. She put a comforting hand on his shoulder, and he felt his rage drain away.
"I'd ask if you were alright, but something tells me that would be a stupid question," Ginny said softly. Harry gave a snort of laughter despite himself. Exhaling heavily, he collapsed onto the bed. "You should talk to Kingsley. Maybe he can tell us what's going on." She lay down next to him and slipped her hand into his, giving it a comforting squeeze.
"Yeah, I'll go down to the Ministry tomorrow," Harry said flatly. He wrapped an arm around Ginny, resting his head on her shoulder. "It's just funny," he added. "I guess I just assumed that defeating the greatest Dark wizard of all time would be satisfactory enough..."
Ginny smiled.