A/N apologies for the delay in getting this chapter out, this story takes a bit longer than some of the others to put together, Yaxley likes things to be *just so*. Big love to Kreeblim Sabs who picks me off the floor when I am struggling with this one.
If you are looking for more Yaxley time I have recently posted chapters with him in other fics;
The Mixtape - Track 4 - Hermione x Yaxley in a different (less complicated) short story.
After the Meeting - The Brother's Tale - Yaxley during the first wizarding war (lemons!).
Hermione stood in front of her bedroom mirror turning from side to side before huffing and throwing yet another outfit onto the 'no' pile. She really had to go shopping, most of her clothes were either relics from her time at school or clothes she had from travelling, neither seemed quite right. What she needed was a total rebrand, clothing that would reflect the fact that she was no longer a schoolgirl, a style that would show how much she had changed.
Sighing she stepped so close to the barren wardrobe she was almost inside it and began rooting through its contents with a grim determination. She wondered if she should ask Ginny for some help but quickly cut off that thought realising what she was letting herself in for if she went down that road.
Finally, she settled on a plain black sun dress that she transfigured to fit slightly better than it had before, she gave her hair up as a lost cause and moved to the kitchen debating having a small glass of wine before leaving to meet Cormac. Just the one, she chided herself.
Though her visit to the prison had been three days ago, it still lingered at the forefront of her mind, painfully so. When Hermione had eventually apparated back to Grimmauld Place after her meeting with Yaxley, she excused herself from Harry and Ginny's enquires opting instead to shut herself in the bathroom for an hour. As soon as the bolt had slid across the door, she had slipped down the secured barrier, pointed her wand to set the tap running, and collapsed onto the cool tiled floor. She had released heavy breath after heavy breath, in an attempt to let go of the anxiety and fear she had not been able to display over the previous hour.
When she had re-entered Azkaban Hermione had been determined not to let appear as if the environment was bothering her. She had been focused on Yaxley seeing her as a woman, not a child, and one equal to the task of taking on The Ministry and the views of the general public, she wouldn't have been able to do that shaking in fear, as much as she had wanted to.
Once her breathing returned to normal, she stretched her legs out in front of her watching as goose pimples covered her skin. Hermione chastised herself for her lack of foresight; she hadn't given enough thought to the man beneath the Death Eater before the visit. Sure she had considered him, from every angle, but her study had been academic, she had readily come to the conclusion that he was the best candidate for the figurehead, on paper. She had failed to rationalise that people were so much more than the sum of their parts, a biography, however detailed, would only reflect elements of someone's true self.
Reuben Yaxley was so much more than any of the hundreds of parchment sheets she had reviewed painted him. He was acerbic, intelligent, cynical and incredibly forceful. He appeared entirely in command of himself and his faculties, considering his extensive prison stays that was nothing short of miraculous. What sort of man would he have been if he had made different choices?
Hermione had to give herself some credit, it wasn't all a lack of preparation; she could have dug as deep as she liked into the wizard, nothing would have ever prepared her for him looming over her as he did, his display had been intimidating and a show of real power. She wondered for the hundredth time how they were going to present this man to the world as someone who required their clemency.
Making one last twirl and awkward bend in the mirror to check the back of her outfit she sighed and headed down to position herself on the dirty bench table in the Grimmauld Place kitchen, thanking her lucky stars that her friends were out, she couldn't face Ginny's questions about Cormac tonight. The redhead had descended into the mania that befell many that have a ring slipped onto their finger and had promptly begun attempting to match-make everyone around her so they could be as happy as she was. Hermione fought down the urge to pull a face everytime Ginny repeated the expression, her smile becoming more and more brittle with each rehearing.
Not that there was anything wrong with Cormac, per say, Hermione just thought there should probably be more to her friend's approval than factoring the extra player for their games of pick-up Quidditch. If she was honest, with herself Harry's reaction had bothered her more or rather his lack of one. Ginny's squawking may have been irritating, but that paled in light of her best friend's disinterested shrug when his wife had pushed him to help her convince Hermione that Cormac could be the guy.
Hermione twisted the stem of the now empty wine glass between her fingers, for the first time asking herself what the criteria she was looking for was exactly?
The restaurant Cormac had picked was light and airy with a charmed wall that depicted softly transitioning images of the sea on the South Coast; Hermione felt a momentary remembrance of some holiday taken before Hogwarts with her parents, a lifetime ago. She grit her teeth against the lash of hurt that gripped her chest before marching passed the wall that had lost its initial appeal.
Having previously agreed to meet there, when she arrived she was ushered to a table, happy to find that Cormac was already there. Years of dealing with Harry and Ron's perpetual lateness made her fiercely work against her tendencies to be fifteen minutes early lest she had to sit alone, she kept forgetting that Cormac, was just not like them.
As he saw her approach the table, his face broke into an easy smile, and he stood to wrap her in a quick but fierce embrace before tucking her chair in and sitting back down himself. Their conversation was idle at first, remembrances of past fun and tales of their time apart, the main courses had arrived before they had sufficiently broken the ice to begin topics of more import.
"So, your mission at Azkaban?" Cormac began, his body language was open, inviting her to speak.
"I'm not entirely sure yet; I feel that something needs to be done though" she responded, she knew it was a vague answer, but she didn't have a plan entirely worked out yet. Once she did she would happily argue over its merits with any who doubted her but for now, now she would keep her thoughts close to her chest.
Cormac dropped his head to the side as if he was picking his next words carefully. "People won't like that Hermione, there would be those that say that got what they deserved," he said gently, but not placatingly. What she always liked about Cormac was that he viewed her as not just an intellectual equal, or maybe even superior, but he made it clear he felt she was an emotional one too. He didn't try to manage her like some did. Yes, she could be overly passionate about things at times, but the answer was a rational debate not to give her the verbal equivalent of a pat on the head and a biscuit.
Hermione put her cutlery down to consider her response; his reaction had not been alarming, she was prepared for far worse responses than this. Still, she had better get used to defending her actions.
She looked him straight in the eyes "I understand that Cormac, I empathise with it I do. Some of those inmates have committed the worst crimes imaginable, and if the situations were reversed, had the war ended differently, I doubt any of them would have shown an ounce of compassion for anyone they held" she said levelly.
"So why?" he said leaning forward onto the table waiting for her answer.
"I've seen it" she replied simply, "Maybe I could have ignored it if I had never had reason to go, maybe it would have been a dull hum at the back of my mind that I would never have rooted around to address, but, now that I have. Those images... they are right at the front… I can't have that on my conscience."
Hermione had turned over her actions in her mind more that once. Before leaving England, she had never thought of those in prison, and she imagined it would be the same for most people, though the sensory overload she had experienced while there had not dulled over time, if anything her remembrances had become acuter.
When she had first left Malfoy Manor she had been so very proud of herself, for the first time she felt like she had come out of a situation not playing straight into the hands of the snakes she was dealing with. She had felt she was finally showing some signs of tampering her brash moralistic sense of justice, rounding herself out. It was a few days before she had started to question whether everything was as it had seemed; What if the Malfoy's had been playing a longer game than she had first considered? What if Draco had just wanted her to go there, to see it, his father was obviously sick but what if that hadn't been the end goal?
These questions kept her awake at night, but she recognised their futility at the same time, it didn't matter how she had ended up on the rock in the North Sea, the fact was she had and now… now she had to do something about it.
Cormac shifted on the other side of the table yanking her thoughts back to the present; "how was the meeting with Yaxley?" he inquired lightly. She turned to look at his face, there was something in the set of his jaw, something that was just off as if he was fearful for her answer.
Hermione had a momentary flash of the enraged pureblood standing above her, talking to her derisively, she swallowed "it went about as well as could be expected" she responded matching his tone, sure her face belied some of her lingering concerns as much as his whispered his discomfort.
"Be careful with him Hermione" he said decidedly.
She fought the exasperation his warning gave her dropping her cutlery to the table "I did fight in a war Cormac I know I may appear…"
He held his hands up in front of himself before interrupting "he is different, this whole situation is different, it's not about fighting in the field. If you are visiting him hoping for his cooperation, look very carefully at what he is trying to get from you."
Hermione fidgeted with her napkin "I understand… thank you for your concern" she said politely if a little primly.
When she looked back up Cormac was appraising her face, head tilted, he seemed to be lost in thought for a moment "you look different" he said finally, his eyes flashing with some unknown emotion "not harder, but,... something".
"Three years is a long time" she answered softly, suddenly aware of heat in her neck, they had so far managed to avoid the conversation of where their relationship was when she had left. She wondered if they would ever have that talk, is she even wanted to?
"Yes," he answered wistfully "it certainly is".
Just then the waiter reappeared to top up their wine glasses and whatever was hiding behind Cormac's eyes seemed to dissipate.
"While I am bringing things up that will annoy you" he began cautiously and Hermione motioned for him to continue "ah...your parents" Hermione stilled "Hermione you have to know that it was most likely someone within those walls that did... that. Someone that you will be endeavouring to bring comfort too, can you handle that?"
Hermione's eyes locked with his; she let herself be calmed by those sea foam green irises, the ones that had been there that day, the ones that had been there to put her back together afterwards.
"I'm not sure" she answered honestly.
He leant forward over the small table and took her small hand in his "I didn't mean to upset you, I just want you to be prepared. I don't mean with paper files and plans of attack, I mean…. your heart Hermione," his voice trailed off as he ran his thumb rhythmically over her knuckles "it can be a bit of a weakness for you."
Two weeks was a long time to a witch like Hermione Granger, following her dinner with Cormac she made the decision to get out of Grimmauld Place. Her stay had been much better than she had anticipated but she was used to her space. Also, it was highly likely that some of her friends would have very definite opinions on what she was trying to do when it all came out. It would be better if she could avoid those ideas in her home.
After answering an ad she got a part time job in Flourish and Blotts, and thanks to some of her muggle work while away managed to get some more hours at a Waterstones in Oxford Circus. The combination of the two giving her enough money to begin renting a small flat in one of the many small cobbled streets of Diagon Alley.
The small space had a spare bedroom that she quickly repurposed into an office; turning it into her centre of operations.
Though she may have gained Yaxley's tentative agreement to become a figurehead that was exactly what is had been, tentative, and figurehead for what remained slightly undecided.
Her first thought, unsurprisingly, had been direct action. She had planned on going to the Ministry, to speak to Kingsley, to apply to the Wizengamot to produce a report on conditions. But the soft voice and words of Xeno Lovegood stopped her; people are very opposed to having any blame laid at their feet, however justly it may belong there, you would do well not to focus on what has gone before, instead look at what can be done to change the future.
Hermione was perched at the breakfast bar in her tiny kitchen when Luna popped in; she wasn't aware she had keyed her into the wards so the sudden sound made her jump. Not that she was particularly surprised when she saw the blond witch, Hermione didn't imagine something so insignificant as wards had ever kept Luna out of a place she wanted to be.
"I'm back" Luna called.
"Evidently" Hermione replied, but her face was stretched in a broad smile as she moved across the small space to embrace her friend.
"I brought lunch" Luna held a bag aloft
"Great, I want to hear all about your travels" Hermione replied relieving her of the bag she had brought and steered her into the kitchen. When Luna reached for the kettle Hermione bustled her out of the way in a manner Molly Weasley would have been proud of. Hermione may have embraced the wizarding world, but there were some kitchen appliances she preferred to use, after being utterly horrified over how the dreamy blonde had made, what she called 'tea' while at Hogwarts, she didn't want her anywhere near her beloved kettle.
Luna's tales took over an hour, and Hermione listened attentively as the blonde's eyes took on a new life while discussing the creatures she had seen or the places she had visited, noting that they never looked brighter than when odd references were made to her travelling companion Rolf Scamander.
When Luna had come up for air, she decided to press, tentatively, into their relationship "so Rolf?" she questioned, "how did you two come to know each other in the first place?"
Luna looked contemplative for a moment "he came by to see Daddy in his offices, he was ready to go on this expedition, and he had the brightest aura of anyone I have ever seen, I'm afraid I was rather pulled into his orbit. We had lunch, and he invited me to come with him" she replied peacefully.
"Just like that?" Hermione asked incredulously.
"Yes," She confirmed, beaming.
"That seems a little fast" Hermione edged.
Luna laughed, "says the girl ready to take on the establishment after one prison visit" Hermione sagged, Luna put her cup down and looked at her firmly "he was just, is just… right."
Hermione snorted despite herself "are you about to tell me that you have some magical spark with Rolf, a passion that can't be contained?" she asked playfully.
Luna laughed "No, nothing as cliche as that" Hermione regarded the unfocused expression on her friend's face as she glanced off into the distance "from that first moment when he looked at me, I just knew, when we spoke he listened to what I had to say. Not with forbearance or pretence but genuine interest. He sees me Hermione, all of me, the good and the bad... And he doesn't judge me for any of it."
Hermione played with the fabric at the bottom of her skirt slightly uncomfortable with the earnest quality of her friend's declaration. "What about Neville?"
"We were never serious Hermione; he knew that in fact, I think he was a little relieved that I was on the same page as him."
Hermione's brow pinched "He was a good guy though right?"
"Of course" Luna affirmed "and it was sweet, lovely even… but never vital. Rolf… from that first day, he was imperative."
Hermione nodded her brain swirling from Luna's assertions; she moved to re-fill the kettle before Luna's dreamy voice flowed over to where she stood "he asked about you a lot after you were gone."
"Who?" Hermione answered attempting nonchalance.
Luna's head tilted to the side as she regarded her with a small smile on her face "I think he would like to come off as disinterested, but he isn't, not really, not when it comes to you". Neither girl mentioned that who they were talking about was never qualified; it didn't need to be.
Hermione turned to look at her not sure what to say, Luna didn't seem put off by her lack of response and continued,"integral isn't always two sided Hermione, you should be careful of those that view you as such if it's an emotion you cannot return. And definitely, avoid situations where the reverse may be true."
Hermione was locked into her friends all knowing gaze for a moment before she broke it "come on less talk of love, let's eat."
As they started on the food, Luna had brought Hermione filled her in on the trip to Azkaban, both times, and all she had ascertained about the running of the prison itself as well as the public's perception of it.
"So, what's you plan?" the blonde asked finally.
Hermione twirled the long strips of pasta around her fork, "I think the best route would be some article or news story. Before I spoke to your father, I was determined that there should be some expose on the conditions, but he has led me to believe that might not be best."
"Oh?" Luna pushed lightly.
"So I am thinking about something more subtle, a profile on Reuben Yaxley as a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight who is now unable to operate in society in the way he wants, hints dropped at how he is being treated, no more, no less."
"To what end?" Luna probed liking red sauce from the side of her mouth.
"I need something to garner public opinion; I want them to make changes, but I can't see that happening in the current climate."
"So the publication?" Luna asked knowingly.
Hermione smiled "well it can't be The Prophet, it's too heavily linked with The Ministry, not only would they not publish what was needed the Death Eaters wouldn't trust them. It would need to be a slightly subversive choice of both publication and interviewer, any ideas?"
Luna laughed "oh maybe a few."
Luna eventually left hours later once Hermione had turned down the fifth offer of pudding, she couldn't have another desert this week; she couldn't exactly be the driving force behind deprivation and be stuffing her face at the same time.
Luna had agreed, in her own typically roundabout way, to undertake the interview, now Hermione just had to organise when it would go ahead.
Reuben was sat at the back of the cell inches away from the small gap that allowed him to communicate with Antonin; it had been three weeks since he had seen Hermione Granger and he was beginning to get restless.
There was always the possibility that she had been more intimidated than she was letting on and had decided not to come back, his fists clenched as his mind turned over the prospect. She didn't seem the type to let something go.
Once again he considered what she might be planning, and more importantly how he could bend those plans to his own ends. He could sense her ultimate goal, witches like her weren't hard to read, everything she felt was almost painted on her forehead for the whole world to see. She would want them to be warmer, cleaner, better fed.
All good, all noble aspirations.
It was a shame that noble meant nothing to the damned.
As much as her enthusiasm made his teeth ache he couldn't fault her for it, he just had to find a way to impress upon her that hell was still hell, whether you had access to soap and running water or not.
A shadow fell over the enclosed space, and he watched the sneering face of Aiden Johnson appear in the magical veil that sealed the cell. Johnson had been an auror at his time at the DMLE and a good one, at least until he had run foul of Selwyn, that particular Death Eater had been less scrupulous in dealing with people that had morals that prevented them from carrying out orders.
He looked up to face him, squaring his shoulders but not rising.
"You will have a visit next week" Johnson spat.
Reuben raised his eyebrows; notice was new, he wondered why they would start… Hermione. His face broke into a smile "you should have alerted me to your promotion to messenger boy Johnson, I would have passed on my hearty congratulations" he sniped.
He watched the old auror's right-hand twitch, and he tipped his head mockingly in response. The lack of fear seemed to rile him further, but he had no chance to act before Mclaggen arrived.
"Problem Aiden?" the blond asked softly, laying his hand on the older man's shoulder. Mclaggen was a new addition to the routine here, and one Reuben had assessed quickly as being slightly more intelligent than the average in the new crop, if a little pure, a few years on the job would soon cure that. "Why don't you head back to the checkpoint, I'll finish up here?"
Johnson nodded before scowling at Reuben, much to his amusement. When he looked back up Mclaggen was regarding him impassively "you will have a visit next week, Hermione will be bringing Luna Lovegood from The Quibbler."
Reuben nodded briefly, and the blond backed away. He was greatly amused that she must have insisted he be told before she arrived, that kind of behaviour spoke of her rather strong Gryffindor tendencies which were sure to be something of a disadvantage.
But The Quibbler?... A smile broke across his face at that… clever girl.
