Thanks for the continued readership; here's the new update and introduction of the new Minister for Magic. Seems like Ron might have a bit of a conflict. Enjoy!
LCailan
3 – The New Minister
This morning I looked into the bathroom mirror and saw myself in a completely new light. I hate to be ashamed of what I am. I don't see anything different in myself. I still breathe. I still laugh. I hunger and thirst. And I cast magic stronger and more complicated than any of those who think they have purer blood. What's blood matter? So I'm Muggle-born - does that make me an abomination to be shunned? Am I a freak of nature, less than the confident and brilliant woman I should feel I am? Is Ron ashamed of me?
Hermione stared at the front page of the Daily Prophet, swallowing hard. She grimaced as she tasted something bitter. Amongst a large group of supporters, Lucius Malfoy smiled at the camera as he was declared the new Minister for Magic. No matter the smile that lit up his pale face and the neat way his platinum hair was pulled back, Hermione would never forget the way the man had looked at her while they were in battle - with hatred, fury and blood lust. She would forever see the new Minister as a monster.
"It can't be!"
Her gasp seemed much too loud in the small living room. Ron stood only a few feet away, his freckles seemingly brighter against the pallor of his face.
"Look, Hermione, we don't know why some things happen but-"
Hermione tossed the paper aside with growing vehemence.
"No, we don't, but this?"
She locked her angry eyes with Ron's, her face a mask of incredulity.
"This is...rubbish! This is atrocious! This is-"
Hermione didn't have words for a few moments as her eyes were torn back to the photograph of Lucius Malfoy as he offered smiles to his adoring public. It infuriated Hermione that no one seemed to see through the genteel demeanor, or the put-on smile. Lucius seemed to radiate warmth and charm that she had never seen in him before.
All she could recall from her few moments in his presence was utter disdain and the cold, empty gray eyes.
Hermione shuddered, tearing her gaze away from the paper and this time for good. Ron was watching her and she knew the look well - it was the same one that he wore when they were fighting and he knew he had done something wrong. Except this time-
"He's going to be my new boss, Hermione."
Thatwas the problem, Hermione realized. She feared that reality more than anything else for it meant that Muggle-borns were doomed to struggle even more than they already did! Could no one see? Did no one care for equality? Would wizarding Britain truly allow a man as callous and prejudiced have so much influence?
Blinking furiously, Hermione turned towards the tiny window of her flat, the one that overlooked the drab and cement-walled garden below.
"You think me stupid?"
"No, I-"
Once more, something stopped Ron from continuing, a note of hesitancy in his voice when he continued.
"I understand why you might be upset, but, really, 'Mione."
Whirling around, just her look stopped any words that Ron might have voiced.
"No! You don't understand!"
She hurled the accusation violently, and it had a most desired effect; Ron grew pale, all the blood draining from his face, leaving behind unsightly freckles.
"You don't know what it's been like for me, Ron! Living in this bloody city where I don't mean anything, where I haven't an opportunity to better myself! And it's theirfault!"
She sneered towards the Prophet.
"Men like him!Disgusting, worthless pureblooded trash!"
It didn't matter that such a phrase seemed just as bigoted as all those she had heard over the last ten years. It didn't matter because they didn't know what it felt like for a Muggle-born. They never would. Tears of anger and despair filled Hermione's eyes and she couldn't look at Ron for a long time.
"I'm so afraid!"
It was true and Hermione had hoped she would never have to speak the words. Speaking them made it all the more true. She could live in the prison that had been her silence because sometimes if something wasn't said it wasn't true.
But now it was different.
"I'm afraid that more and more will fall into this belief that Muggle-borns aren't equal to the pureblooded! I should be in school, Ronald! I should be working at the Ministry and what am I doing?"
The thought of her unpaid bills, of the disgusting, dingy little flat, the hopeless future, bleak and gray, nearly made Hermione want to sink onto the worn sofa and weep. It was only the shredded remnants of her pride that she was for some unknown reason still clutching to, that refused to allow her bitter tears.
Ron, who looked a bit ill, walked towards her, offering a hand though he didn't know what elsehe could offer his distraught girlfriend. He only hoped she would not cry because surely then he wouldn't know what to do. But Hermione didn't take his offered hand, instead, making a tiny, choked sound and rushing from the room into the even smaller bedroom. Here the window overlooked the nearly empty street below her flat. It was later evening and most of the traffic was over. Very few traveled this far east in the city anyway.
"Hermione."
Ron's voice was cajoling, even a bit contrite, as if he blamed himself for what she was going through.
Hermione sniffed knowing that no amount of pity would make things right and now with the dirty, hateful...Malfoy as the Minister-
She didn't want to think about it. She couldn'tthink about it!
"Ron, I need to be alone," she said then, her voice choked and weak. Pathetic. She was pathetic, wasn't she? That's why she wasn't as good as the others; that's why the Ministry wanted to get rid of all her kind.
Jesus.
Ron had not moved; she could feel his presence, could smell the faint spicy sweetness of his cologne.
''Please," she said in a choked whisper.
For a few moments she could still feel him behind her but then a moment later she heard the tell-tale squeaky sound of her front door as he shut it, leaving her alone. Only then did Hermione break down under the burden of her worries and frustrations.
She retrieved the paper from where she had tossed it and crumbled it up with one, furious movement, hurling it across the tiny room towards the trash bin.
"I hate this! I hate Malfoy and I hate Ronald!"
Hermione had faced bitter disappointment in the past and she expected that after her emotional outrage she would go back to feeling empty again. But this time she didn't. This time the fear and pain would not go away.
Luna was watching Hermione with concern as the brunette paced back and forth across the room.
"Do you think he might just not have had enough time to come here and get you?"
Luna's voice was quiet, tentative. She wondered if Hermione could even hear her. At any rate she didn't respond, continuing her frantic, angry pacing without cease.
"Hermione."
It did no good and Hermione continued her pacing until finally, after what seemed like ages, she slowed, and then stopped.
"It's been over an hour!"
She whirled, fire in her amber-colored eyes.
"He's never once stood me up for our noon day meals! Never once!" she raged. "I know Malfoy has something to do with this, that cad! He's the one that only two years ago was trying to kill Muggle-borns! Does anyone actually think he's changed?"
Luna sighed.
"How could he possibly be doing this to you on purpose? It's not like he knows you, is it?"
Hermione scowled and then turned towards the only window in the room. It offered meager, gray light.
Luna was right, she realized. Lucius Malfoy couldn't have possibly done such a thing intentionally. After all, in his eyes she amounted to nothing so why would he ever have bothered?
A leaden feeling had settled in the pit of her stomach and Hermione stared out of the window, swallowing hard.
"No, you're right."
Luna exhaled.
"Come sit. You're worrying yourself silly over nothing."
Hermione paused for a moment and then moved to join Luna, falling onto the sofa with a relenting sigh.
"I'm afraid."
How many times had she said that in the last few months? With each passing day the burden of her fear was growing heavier. What if society came between herself and Ron? What if Lucius Malfoy's beliefs were as fanatical as Lord Voldemort's had been? What if the life she was living - as meager and oppressive as it was - turned into even more of a nightmare?
The questions rolled around in her mind, driving her mad and Hermione wished more than anything for a pensieve.
"Of what, darling?"
Hermione felt Luna's hand on her arm.
"What if...what if I...what if Ron's relationship with me costs him...can they do that? Could they punish him because of our relationship? What if he jeopardizes his position with the Ministry? I can't bear the thought that-"
Her words were broken by a choked sob and Luna pulled Hermione into a hug.
"There, there," she soothed. "Don't worry about something you can't help right now, Hermione."
Luna's words served only to make Hermione feel more helpless.
I'm drowning.
It was a distant thought and her heart ached with pain, fear and uncertainty.
One day later
Ron looked down at the official paperwork stamped with the Ministry insignia. He read the words again and again.
Bloody hell, I'm an Auror, aren't I?
There was a rush of elation and he had to keep himself from whooping out loud in his excitement. There had been months and months of training, hours of preparation, worries and fears he would not get where he needed to be...all of it. He had wondered if they looked at him differently because he was from a poorer family.
Not only that but it was common knowledge that the Weasleys were 'Muggle-born sympathizers.'
For ages that hadn't meant anything to Ron; he had never believed that blood purity had anything to do with magical ability. He knew others - hateful, close-minded others - who believed that but he never had.
But now the world was different; more and more of those 'others' had influence and things were changing slowly. Ron didn't understand it and it wasn't fair but the world was different.
He blinked hard.
I'm an Auror!
Ron pushed away his flood of worries and thought of Harry as he grinned stupidly at the offer of employment through the Ministry of Magic.
You'd be proud of me, mate. It's what we both wanted!
The offer letter trembled slightly in Ron's grip as he lowered his hand for a moment, thinking of all those things already behind him and what was to come. He thought of the hours of studies late into countless nights, hours of training until he had been too tired to stand and worst of all the slow estrangement he felt from Hermione-
No! I won't sully my joy by thinking of that now! I won't!
But his girlfriend's sad eyes floated across his mind. Ron closed his eyes tightly.
He couldn't think of Hermione. He couldn't because each time he did he felt an endless tide of fear and guilt. In this changing world he wondered about the state of their relationship and he was trying to hold onto what felt like a union built on quicksand. She was angry with him all the time now; she was furious that he spent so much time away and she was resentful of the liberties granted to him - liberties taken away from her one by one.
Ron still believed she was the brightest witch he had ever known and a flood of pride washed over him each time he thought of her. But it didn't matter anymore what she was capable of; they only cared about her parentage - that she was born of two Muggles.
It isn't fair! But what can I do?
The thought of giving up his Ministry post now seemed the height of foolishness. Why abandon his dreams and throw away all his hard work when in the end he would have to get another job somewhere else and Hermione would STILL be in the same predicament. It seemed a callous viewpoint he knew but...
The way the world is going...
"Mister Weasley, is it?"
Ron jumped at the silky voice behind him. He felt his breakfast threatening him as he turned to find Lucius Malfoy watching him. The new Minister wore a mild, curious expression.
"Ah, Arthur's youngest son, yes?"
Ron nodded mutely, swallowing hard as he searched for a proper response. On one hand this man was no his superior. And on the other hand he was a vile, bigoted snake. It wasn't bad enough that the world wasn't a fair place anymore and now this man would...
"Seems your studies paid off. And here I believed you would have gotten into the Ministry due to your father's position."
The words were smooth, noncommittal. But Ron knew better than to take them at face value. Malfoy had always been hateful. His blood began to boil but he remained calm.
"No, Sir. I finished my training with top marks."
"It appears so."
Ron waited for a few moments and Malfoy watched him curiously for a few moments before continuing.
"I haven't forgotten, Weasley."
"Forgotten, Sir?"
"Who you used to chum around with."
Ron remained silent. He would not besmirch Harry's memory nor would he bad-mouth Hermione.
Malfoy's eyes glittered.
"Much time has passed since last we...faced one another. Much has changed and many have died. Let the dead stay dead. I do happen to remember one that you were close to. That little Mud-"
He paused, cocking his head and re-choosing his words.
"Muggle-born, wasn't she? Hermione Granger."
Ron stared up at the Minister in silence and Malfoy took this as a sign to continue.
"Don't have much to say, do you? Very well, Weasley. I'll remind you that I do not tolerate such...wasting of time. You are a representative of the British Ministry now. I will overlook all your past grievances but let me remind you that I will not be so lenient in the future."
Ron swallowed.
"Yes, Sir."
"I'm glad we've come to an understanding."
Then Malfoy smiled; it was one of those smiles that never reached his eyes.
"Good chat, Weasley. I'm sure I'll be seeing much more of you in the next few weeks."
Ron slumped against the wall, feeling weak as the taller, fair-haired man turned, sweeping his Ministry robes aside as he began to walk down the corridor.
Ron took a quick breath and then gathered himself. He had only a few minute before flooing to meet Hermione for a quick bite. But just as he began to trot in the direction opposite the one Malfoy had taken, he heard the drawl of his silken voice.
"Oh, Weasley, I rather forgot to mention that I'll need you in my office in ten minutes."
Ron whirled around, turning pink from agitation.
"But I have an appointment I can't miss!"
"You'll have to miss it, won't you? This isn't school any longer, Weasley. It isn't fun and games. It's work; work comes first."
"But I-"
His argument was weak at best and soon his voice faded away. Malfoy turned and disappeared in a split-second, leaving Ron alone. Sighing, he squared his shoulders, feeling miserable. This would be the second day in a row that he wouldn't be able to meet Hermione; he knew she was angry.
She'll have to understand!
It was work, after all! It wasn't like he was meeting someone else! He was an Auror now and he wanted to job so he could support his own family, whenever he and Hermione finally married and started having children. Malfoy - slimy git that he was - had a good point.
I'm not in school; I'm a man now. I have responsibilities and Hermione will have to understand.
Shoulders slumped Ron made his way down the corridor towards the central chamber of the Ministry. His fists were clenched and he refused to look up, angry and frustrated with himself and the situation.
No matter how hard he justified his choice, the guilt would not go away. It followed him, clinging to him like the shadows.