Ms. Hermione Granger, Head of Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures,

This letter is to inform you that whilst you were on holiday, the heads all voted to terminate your department's Centaur Holiday Program, on the account of its offense to general propriety. Please extend any questions and concerns you may have to the Minister.

We do hope you had a fine holiday. It certainly was a long one, wasn't it?

Sincerely,

Madame Hemlay and Lentus Wells

Hermione wasted no time in "extending" her "concerns" to the Minister. She threw open Kingsley's office door with her wand, starting with the first and most important question while waving the letter. "What the fuck is this?"

Kingley, who looked as though he were mid-sentence in a meeting with a couple of witches, took a deep sigh. "Ms. Granger—"

"Mr. Minister, please, please tell me this is a joke and that I—"

"Granger—"

"—their, their audacity and nerve to meddle with my department—"

"Hermione."

She stopped right then, since Kingsley so rarely said her given name. "Hermione," he repeated. "I'll stop by your office in an hour. We will do lunch, yes?"

She glanced at his bewildered guests. "Uh—sure. Excuse me." She left with her cheeks burning as she realized how rude she'd been. Fuck, would Kingsley up and fire her now?

Gods, she needed a drink.

First, though. Another mountain of paperwork.

x

"Hermione," Kingsley said after they ordered their entrees. She, unnerved by his continual use of her first name, took a long sip of ice water.

"Kingsley."

"Do you know what I was doing when I was your age?"

Hermione gulped her water. "Uh—I don't know. Auror training?"

"I was playing quidditch for a local league."

Hermione nearly choked. "Sorry, sir. I just—I never realized you played."

"Oh, yes," Kingsley said, smiling. "Was a beater. Did some seeking for a bit, but I'm just not as graceful on the broom." He took a sip of his pumpkin juice. "Did you know what I did after that?"

Hermione shook her head.

"I lived in Iceland for a bit. Followed a witch there, but stayed for the trees." He chuckled.

"The trees, sir?"

"There's a fascinating sport among their wizards and witches there in Selfoss. Tree-walking. It's rather dangerous, sort of like muggle tight-roping. It takes quite a bit of concentration. A Zen-state-of-mind. It really prepared me for my aurorship, truth be told."

Hermione furrowed her brow as he continued.

"After that, I went to my sister's and helped her husband's farm. Bred some new variations of mandrake, ones whose screams wouldn't be so harmful. Of course, their herbal properties weren't so potent, but years later, my brother-in-law did succeed in creating the Whisperdrake."

Hermione eyebrows shot up. "Your brother-in-law created the Whisperdrake? Bloody hell, sir, that's, I mean." She cleared her throat, realizing she'd no idea of his point thus far. "I mean, I'm not sure what you're getting at."

Kingsley smiled. "Granger, we've been working for years to rid the Ministry of all its corruption, yes?"

"Yes, well. I've tried to help the best way I could."

"Unfortunately, some of that corruption is much too subtle. Some of your colleagues are too clever to let their prejudices seep to the surface. Everyone knows of their affection for blood purity, but no one can prove it. Which has left your job less than… pleasant."

Hermione bit back a snort. Certainly that was an understatement.

"You know, Hermione, in six years, Madame Hemlay will be retired. Wells will be done this year. Both Redbook and Tucker will be finished in three years, and in less than ten, Dumond, Pretratti and Huggle will join them." He leaned back to let the server place his Monte Cristo in front of him. "And I fully intend on filling their spaces with those of open minds and hearts."

Hermione nodded, staring at her grilled chicken and vegetable platter. "That means I won't get a lick of work done—important work—for nearly another decade." She couldn't help the despondence in her voice.

"I noticed you had a job application on your desk earlier."

Hermione winced. "Oh, that. It's nothing, nothing at all, just an offer—"

"Potioneering at the Romanian Dragon Reserve? I think it's a great idea, Hermione."

She blinked. "What? Gods, you are firing me, aren't you?"

Kingsley smiled. "You've been working at the Ministry since you left Hogwarts. You are the brightest or any witch or wizard I've worked beside, and the hardest-working, by far—"

"Then why are you firing me, Kingsley?" Hermione felt as though she might burst into tears.

"I'm not. Not at all. It's more like…" He stared off for a few seconds, and let his eyes return to hers. "All those things I did in my youth. Quidditch, tree-walking, farming. They all made me become a better auror and wizard. These experiences… they gave me perspective."

"You're saying my perspective is too narrow?"

"I'm saying that you're still young, Hermione. You're at the perfect age to take a broom over a mountain, to experiment with potioneering, to heal." He paused. "To make mistakes." He shook his head as she opened her mouth to protest. "Whatever you decide, in ten years' time, I want you to return to the Ministry for training."

"Training? Training for what?"

"To replace me, of course."

Hermione's jaw dropped. For the first time all lunch, she was rendered speechless.

"Your talents are being wasted here, Hermione. I, for one, know you are way too clever to push paperwork around all day. You are becoming more and more jaded every time I see you. And I can't have that for the next Minister, understand? I want you to travel, to live, to meet wizards and witches from all over. I believe the Minister of Magic ought to be wise. Variety makes one wise, Hermione."

Hermione finally found her voice. "So you're not firing me, exactly—"

"Consider it an extended training program."

"And in ten years' time—"

"I'll prepare you. Personally. And you'll run for the Minister of Magic. And, Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"You will win."

x

"There you are." Harry pulled his scarf from his neck along with his coat and took a seat across from Hermione at the pub booth. She was already on her second beer.

"You're not going to lecture me on my alcoholic tendencies, are you?" she asked, fingering her mug.

Harry winced. "Hermione, no one thinks you're an alcoholic. We just worry about you when you drink alone. When you're sad."

Hermione nodded. "I haven't drunk a drop since Romania, you know. Well, not 'til now."

Harry nodded. "I'm glad you finally answered my letters."

"Yeah."

"What's going on, Hermione? What happened in Romania?"

"My Centaur Holiday Program was cancelled."

"What?" A server brought Harry his shot of firewhiskey and he took half of it in a gulp.

"The heads. They voted to cancel it while I was away. The only thing I've been able to accomplish as a deparment head. Letting witches and centaurs screw in the woods." She laughed bitterly. "Ah. It's just as well."

"Fuck. Hermione. I'm so sorry. Hemlay and Wells, and their ilk, they're just tossers. The lot of them."

"Kingsley is urging me to… to quit."

"What? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Harry—"

"That's fucking rubbish, Hermione. I'm going to march to his office first thing tomorrow morning. You're the bloody best thing that's ever happened to the Ministry and he's fucking out of his mind if he thinks any progress is going to happen without you."

"That's the thing, Harry. No progress is happening with me."

Harry blinked. "I don't understand."

She filled him in. On Romania, on Rama's tears, on the job offer. On freaking out in front of Charlie and splitting. On her lunch with Kingsley and his plans for her. And his recommendation to take the offer and just live her life.

When she was finished, Harry'd finished three shots and shook his head, a goofy smile on his face. "I always knew you'd be Minister."

"Harry…"

"Didn't I always say it? Merlin, I ought to start a pool. Although, I can't think of anyone who'd vote against you."

"Charlie, perhaps. After he's seen what a fool I am." Hermione smiled sadly as she sipped her lager.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "So that's what went down? You just got freaked over the job?"

"Well, mostly. He wanted me to move there, to Romania, to be with him. A permanent fixture." She paused when she saw Harry's eyes wandering everywhere but her face. "Why?"

"What? Nothing."

"Harry James Potter—"

"Fine!" Harry threw up his hands as a blush crept up his neck. "It's just that Ginny got Bill to tell her what Charlie told him by wand-point. And she told me because you aren't speaking to her and you know how she gets, just bursting—"

"What did Charlie tell Bill, then, Harry?"

Harry cleared his throat and signaled for another firewhisky.

"Harry!"

"He said you were sore, alright? From all the, ah, shagging."

"So what?"

"And he said you'd asked for a day to recover. But that night, he, ah, had you, and, uh. Was rather aggressive about it."

Hermione's cheeks were also pink by this point. "So what?" she said, trying to push her hair over her face.

"He said he'd hurt you. That you broke down afterward. He—he thinks he fucked it up, Hermione."

"No," Hermione said. "I was the one—he didn't hurt me, Harry, that romp was fucking incredible—"

Harry signaled for another firewhisky as soon as he finished his fourth.

"It was so raw and emotional, you know? I really felt how he cares for me, how much we care for one another—"

"Mm hmm," Harry said, his cheeks beyond red now.

"I mean, I, really, for the first time, realized how in love with him I am—" She stopped right then, her eyes wide.

"You love him," Harry said, a smile creeping up his face.

"I—I mean, I care for him deeply—"

"You love him, Hermione."

Hermione sighed and threw back the remainder of her beer. "Yes. I love him. I love Charlie so much, it scares the shite out of me."

"You know what you have to do, right?" Harry gave her that sly smile of his, the implication of his question igniting a flurry of butterflies in her stomach.

"Harry, I don't know if I can."

"Are you or are you not the witch you saved my and Ron's lives on numerous occasions, one of which involved riding a bloody dragon out of Gringotts—"

"That was years ago, Harry!"

"Hermione."

"Fine." She lowered her eyes and met his with a smile. "I suppose I know what I have to do, don't I?"

"That's my girl."

x

"Mom? What are you doing here?" Ginny asked as she stepped through Hermione's floo, vanishing the powder from her clothes and hair.

"Well, I was invited, Ginevra. Same as you."

"Really? You were invited? But you're the reason she's in this whole mess to begin—"

"Ginny, you will not speak to me in that way, as though you didn't play your part on the—"

"Ginny," Hermione said from the kitchen. "Molly? Let's not fight, okay? Please?"

Ginny harrumphed while Molly pushed herself up from the sofa and into the kitchen. "You sure you don't need any help, dear?"

"I'm sure." Hermione levitated some cake and champagne to the living room coffee table, motioning for Molly to join her and Gin.

"What's with the celebration?" Gin asked.

Hermione popped the champagne with her wand. "Let's just say we're celebrating me coming to my senses."

Molly's eyes were bright as she grinned. "I noticed you're wearing the necklace, dear."

"I am," Hermione smiled, touching the dragonite.

"What necklace?" Ginny asked, picking up her flute. "What did I miss?"

"First of all," Hermione said. "You two are the biggest meddlers of my life. Both of you have, without any permission, arranged events and gossiped behind my back—" she paused as both Molly and Ginny shrank back into the sofa, "all because you love me and want to see me happy. So although I haven't been always supportive with your efforts, I understand why you did what you did. And I wanted to thank you."

"Oh, you're quite welcome, dear," Molly said, dabbing at her eyes.

Ginny furrowed her brow as she helped herself to some cake. "What's with the whole 'you coming to your senses' thing?"

"I'm getting there," Hermione said. "Okay, I asked you both here because I have a proposition for you."

"Go on," Ginny said.

"Yes, dear?" Molly said.

"I need a little bit more meddling. Well, maybe a lot more, depending on how it all goes."

"How what goes?" Ginny asked, throwing her hands up. "You're being so bloody coy, Hermione! What's going on?!"

"Okay, okay," Hermione said, laughing. "I have a plan. And I need your help."

So, I thought Charlie would return for this chapter, but I was wrong! Apologies! He will definitely appear in the next.

Also, apologies for the later chapter. I had family visit and it's been rather chaotic.

For my readers in the States, hope you had a happy Thanksgiving! I'm grateful for you all.