Ok this is a longer chapter because I finally fell into the rhythm of the story. Another encounter is included here, it is brief but it is one of the first of many to come I promise! I think the story finally gets to be much more intriguing toward the end of the chapter!
Dear Ms. Granger,
Continued congratulations for your success at the Daily Prophet, you must know how it pleases me to see your work being published for all to read. I find that I simply cannot resist your column and I know much of the staff and student body agree. If you are ever in need of any advice or help you know where to find me. Perhaps you would like to call for tea sometime soon; without Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and yourself the school is rather quiet. Best wishes in all future endeavors and more congratulations in the face of your recent success. I always knew you could do anything you set your mind to.
Sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Hermione was aware that it was not the absence of her and her friends that made Hogwarts feel quiet. Even with her presence in her last year, Hogwarts did not feel the same as it had before. It was not the same as it was in her sixth year and it was definitely not the same as it was in her first year. The jack o'lanterns had floated above the Great Hall on Halloween, the ridiculously large Christmas trees had been in their familiar spots for winter, the Hogwarts Express still chugged its way through the same mountains and meadows—but Hogwarts was forever changed by the battle there. As were its residents.
On a Monday the Headmistress' note arrived at Hermione's home tied around the claw of a rather magnificent snowy owl who reminded Hermione of Hedwig in the slightest of ways and on Wednesday Hermione found herself outside of the large castle that she still called home. The sun glinted off the windows and she imagined she could hear the stampede of feet that rang through the hallways just after lunch. The homey smell of Scotland grass mingled with the rich smell of the autumnal humidity against the castle stone. She was home.
It had been two weeks since the first edition of her column ran in the Prophet and since her response letter to "The Fallen One" Hermione had been in no correspondence with anyone of similar writing style. Her interest piqued every now and then when questions regarding difficulties with neighbors or family members who had been on opposing sides during the war found themselves in her hands; but time moved slowly in the two weeks at her new job and she felt as if a million years had gone by and she would never hear from the original, intriguing, anonymous writer again.
"Ms. Granger, how happy I am to see you." Minerva embraced Hermione in a way that mothers embrace their daughters. Chest to chest, arms wrapped tight around the younger woman's back, and an honest smile on her face the Headmistress then lead her formal pupil further into the office, "Can I interest you in tea? A biscuit?"
"Tea would be fine, thank you." They spoke easily on all of the changes in both of their lives: Minerva on leading the school which had finally been finished being rebuilt, Hermione on beginning a job that she had not realized she would have such a passion for.
"My dear, you have always liked helping people: starting with your classmates, continuing to all of wizarding kind, and now to the readers of the Daily Prophet. To be so easily able to do so is an incredibly inspiring thing to watch. Mr. Weasley must be proud." Knowing eyes smiled at her from behind the cat-eye glasses the older woman wore and Hermione felt her face flush,
"I wouldn't know, he spends so much of his time these days with Lavender Brown."
"Ah, and here I thought he would come to his senses. How silly of me, I'm sorry Hermione. Is there another young man filling your time then?" Genuine emotion and curiosity were not hard to find in Minerva a woman who, much like Hermione, could have excelled as easily in Ravenclaw as she had in Gryffindor. It was true, Ron had been the center of her affections for a long time and still she often found herself taken by his athletic build and charismatic sense of humor. It wouldn't work though, Hermione often reminded herself when they were left alone, they'd tried it out and it was not meant to be. Of its own accord, Hermione's mind could not help but flicked to the mysterious letter she had received those few weeks ago.
"Not at the moment, no." The conversation moved easily on from there with all formalities being dropped between the two Order members.
Eyes wandering around the office, Hermione appreciated how the room stayed much the same as it had been when Dumbledore had been in charge but how Minerva seemed to have added her own feminine touch to the place. The multitude of golden trinkets that had adorned nearly every surface in Dumbledore's years were gone and replaced by gold and red vases which overflowed with the most glorious roses Hermione had ever seen. Hourglasses in a variation of sizes and in various stages of use were placed about the room, the rush of sand was a calming ambient sound that paired rather nicely with the scratching of the charmed quill on parchment which worked dutifully at the Headmistress' desk. A singing hourglass alerted Minerva an important meeting, she explained with a chuckle at Hermione's look of interest at the soprano sand,
"Let me walk you out, Hermione, I hate to cut this short but I agreed to the meeting quite some time ago. I do hope you'll call again soon." Hermione slightly dreaded heading home when she truly wanted to head back to the dormitory and curl to sleep in her old bed. A pang of sadness overwhelmed her suddenly followed by a shortness of breath as she forced herself to control her melancholy. It suddenly became difficult to speak,
"Yes," Hermione spoke as she allowed herself to be led out of the office with one last quick, hopeful glance up at Snape's sleeping portrait and Dumbledore's empty one, "I would like that very much. It's comforting to be around someone else who is still recovering." At her breathy voice, Minerva turned and set a gentle hand on the shoulder of the much shorter woman as the spiraling staircase led them out of the office.
"If you need anything, my dear, anything at all—do not hesitate to owl. You've been through quite a lot, it's only natural for you to seek excitement and drama that reminds you of your old life." Again, Hermione's mind conjured up the words in that mysterious letter. Surprise clearly registered on Hermione's face and before she could even follow up with a question Minerva let out a rare, but tension-relieving, laugh, "So long as you don't go getting yourself into trouble, which I can trust you to be wary of, you will be fine."
"Much better than fine, I hope, one day anyways." There was no use hiding that irrational tears were swimming at the surface of her brown eyes and hurriedly Minerva conjured a kind handkerchief for the alumni.
"Have you sought counselling, Hermione?" The quiet tone of voice that she took up unsettled Hermione, it was not so often that Minerve McGonagall spoke so gently unless she was truly worried, "You know there is no shame in seeking help when you need it, I expect you of all people to know that."
"Yes, Ms. Granger, if you like you can join me at my next meeting with my Rehabilitation Counselor. It would only raise morale, I believe I heard the Minister saying just yesterday, if we could coexist within these meetings." Both women's heads snapped to see Lucius Malfoy standing quite serenely at the bottom of the staircase. Once again dressed completely in black with shining silver accents, he leaned on his cane and awaited a response with a satisfied smirk. Hurriedly, Hermione used the white cloth Minerva had given her and wiped her tears away. Once again, feeling the part of a silly schoolgirl caught behaving naughtily by the older man. This time, rather than fighting with Ronald in public he had caught her crying to the Headmistress.
"Surely, Mr. Malfoy, the Minister of Magic did not suggest that you and Ms. Granger should seek similar counselling after the war. I do believe the distress you two suffered are traumas exceedingly different in nature." An undeniable chill ran through the long corridor at the older Gryffindor's implications and a slight flush on Lucius' cheeks was noticed by both women.
Lucius ignored the woman's response completely and instead turned his whole attention to the younger woman in front of him. With her hair pulled into a tight, slick bun and her black robes pushed behind her shoulders to reveal a rather mature charcoal colored dress Hermione was indeed a rather picturesque vision of the modern working witch.
"Ms. Granger, I hope you enjoyed your book." The comment was less shocking than the warm tone of Malfoy's voice. The iciness that Minerva had expected from the tall man was absent and instead a pleasant air had been taken up for the benefit of the younger woman.
"Very much so, thank you Mr. Malfoy."
"For that there is no need, it is thanks enough to know you enjoyed your gift. Now if you'll excuse me, Ms. Granger, the Headmistress and I have rather important business to discuss. Good evening." The dismissal was abrupt and left Hermione with no option but to nod in agreement and turn to her friend one last time,
"Perhaps next week you'll allow me to call again?" Minerva did not miss that Malfoy's gaze did not leave Hermione's face throughout their short exchange.
"Any time, my dear, I trust you can find your way out." A quick nod of agreement sent Hermione heading down the long halls of her favorite building before she stepped out into the humidity of autumn and appeared back home.
Dear Jane,
I'm dating a werewolf and want to propose on our anniversary. Our anniversary is the day after a full moon, do you think this will bugger up my plans? Should I wait till next year?
Thanks,
Nervous Boyfriend
"You don't think Ron would propose would he?" Harry looked rightfully concerned as he scanned the letter again. Ginny was outright laughing as she read from over Harry's shoulder, a half-eaten apple forgotten as she chuckled,
"He's dumb enough, it would not surprise me. Blimey, I didn't think he'd be daft enough to write to you for proposal advice though. But I guess I've been wrong before." Harry handed the letter back to Hermione from across her desk as he swiftly changed the topic,
"So how's McGonagall?"
They were hulled up in Hermione's small office, she had originally charmed the walls to be baby blue to reflect a summer sky and now they were covered in her different diplomas, awards, and pictures and the effect was rather grand. Twinkling lights floated above their heads, much to Ginny's pleasure, and dozens of letters requesting advice were scattered across the desk and floor. They'd agreed to sift through letters during their lunch break and Ginny had agreed to join them on her one day break before final rounds of Quidditch try outs.
"She's doing well. Hogwarts is well. Would you believe that I bumped into Malfoy again?"
"Yeah I've seen him a lot lately, myself. He's always pouting around outside the Aurors offices but won't say what for."
"Really? I thought if you served time in Azkaban you weren't allowed up there for anything besides questioning!" Hermione's words were muffled slightly by the salad she was scooping into her mouth as she glanced between letters, trying to ascertain whether one witch had eagerly sent multiple letters in hopes of making the next print or if there was a group of people with very similar penmanship.
"Hermione, Draco didn't serve any time in-"
"She means Lucius, love. So, what did he do this time? Did he buy you another book? Maybe send you on a free vacation?" Ginny's bold giggling was infectious and Hermione released a small snort,
"Not quite. He was actually rather nice again and then he dismissed me, rudely too. And right in front of Minerva, at that."
"I dunno what you're thinking Hermione, but let it go. Lucius Malfoy is a narcissistic bastard and always will be; him buying you the book was some weird mind game if you ask me."
"Ginny's right, Hermione. Moving past the war and all that is one thing, but thinking there's a slight chance he's anything remotely near being a good person is just crazy."
"I never said I thought he might be a good person! He annoys the living daylights out of me, it's just odd is all that I keep bumping into him." The indignation in her voice was obvious and Harry knew from years of experience not to press the topic any further,
"I suppose so. Anyways, I say Ron's proposing next week. I put ten galleons on it!" They started chatting easily again after that. Hermione wasn't sure why she was so sensitive to the topic, she knew she couldn't explain herself to her friends because she really couldn't even explain the logic to herself. All she knew was that Lucius Malfoy's suddenly ambivalent attitude toward her was unsettling and, frankly, beginning to verge on condescending.
She arrived back to work the following day to a fresh pile of letters and requests. Settling into her chair behind her desk with her legs tucked beneath herself, Hermione enjoyed her second mug of tea as she began to scan letters. The task was becoming slightly tedious but she still found it to be rather amusing and, now, found herself able to easily discern which letters may be worthwhile or at least relatable to readers and which ones were rubbish.
Dear Jane,
My mother says I am too young to ride a broomstick even though I can afford one with my own money- Rubbish. She would not be the columnist who went against a mother's word, half her audience would disappear with that. A fresh one read,
Dear Jane,
I have three brothers and have found that they are all similar. I am not like them. Do you think that-Rubbish. Well, boring mostly, but not something that she was interested in putting in the paper. So she continued with a new one,
I have a swollen ankle when it's going to rain but my boyfriend doesn't believe me—Rubbish.
Convincing my father that dating a muggle is a daunting task, but I am pleased by his progress—Hermione set that one to the side as a contender for earning a response. At least it was mildly interesting and could apply to other readers out there. It was as when she was setting that specific letter to her "possible options" pile that she saw it. A fine piece of parchment written upon with beautiful navy blue penmanship that she would recognize anywhere.
Dear Miss Jane,
Hermione's heart nearly stuttered and excitement set her hands into a slight tremble at the familiar formality, it had to be him.
I must apologize for my delayed response, business has not been normal and so my personal life has been put on a hold. It is with my most sincere apologies that I hope that you may never encounter a divorce as wicked as mine has proven to be. Begging for your forgiveness, I hesitantly shall give you a brief response to your inquiries.
My name shall remain a mystery and thus much of my history shall also remain anonymous; for, what is in a name? This question I can answer simply: everything is in a name. For my family, our name is everything. A binding contract of honor, arrogance, fortune, and the pressures that come along with these common pureblood chattels.
There is great beauty in this anonymity that I have not known in my lifetime. A freedom that I cannot explain allows this quill to dip itself into the ink and scratch upon this parchment, anxious to reveal my secrets and tell a story that should not be told. To answer the questions I know you wish to ask would be a death wish, Miss Jane. I can only confirm that yes, I did side with the Dark Lord. I did fight for a reign of terror. I did commit horrible crimes against both sinners and innocents. Those days are over now, Miss Jane, and I am proud of my status in rehabilitation. I am proud that I can say I am working towards leaving the man that I was behind. I am proud to be making amends in as many ways as I can. But I am alone, Miss Jane. Both by the efforts of those around me and the efforts of myself.
Now knowing the much abbreviated tale that is my life, I must ask you again: do I deserve happiness? I committed atrocious crimes in the hopes of omitting happiness and love from the lives of those I believed to be beneath me. Shall I now seek out those very privileges I once sought to destroy in [here the words "innocents" was scratched out] others?
I am a proud man, Miss Jane, but a proud man who now has a conscience. My conscience says I do not deserve happiness, not now that I have shattered the lives of so many.
It would not be appropriate to run this full letter in the daily paper, I am aware of this. Running the first letter with a response would be acceptable, but I request you do not release this second letter. An abandoned address has been attached, the owls there will find me if you feel so inclined to respond to me but not publish the letter—this too would be greatly appreciated.
Whether you choose to answer or not is at your discretion though it would please me very much to receive a response from such a thoughtful, earnest witch.
Anxiously at your disposal,
The Fallen One
P.S.- May I ask how you acquired the name "Jane?" As, I believe I have an inkling of an idea forming.
On the following page was the address he had mentioned in his letter, it was unfamiliar to Hermione, but the address was the least of her worries. Anxiously, she sat in her desk rereading the letter for much of the morning. With a pounding heart and an aching head, at lunch she folded the letter into a tight square and tucked it into her purse. Excusing herself with a head cold, Hermione excused herself for the rest of the day and returned home to pour over the letter again and again. There was something so achingly familiar about the note, but she could not put her finger on why she was so enchanted by the swirling letters on the page. A decision would have to be made, she knew, but she was struggling to find a happy solution for herself.
If she answered the letter she would be responding to an ex-Death Eater. If she didn't respond to the letter she would be discriminating against a man for crimes that should be forgotten, since the war was over and the wizarding community was working towards forgiveness and equality for all. So she would respond, that was the only possible solution to the predicament.
Now, if she responded saying he did not deserve happiness and love then she would have to identify as a truly horrible person—wouldn't she? But, she had sincerely conflicted feelings on this. The man had done atrocious things, he had admitted this himself. She had been at the hands of Death Eaters, she had been the victim of war crimes. The likes of Bellatrix Lestrange did not deserve happiness or love, surely not. But what if he hadn't actually been inducted into the actual ring of Death Eaters, this she was a theory she was extremely positive of. For some reason she had the inkling that this man was just a follower, a lackey, one who magnified his own crimes because of his guilt. It was true, she was sympathizing and romanticizing him because of the humility and regret in his letters. Wishful thinking got her nowhere but further confused.
Did this man deserve love?
Hermione found that she could not say that for herself. She didn't know this man, did not know his crimes, but every human deserves love don't they? Every witch and wizard deserves to hold and be held. Every witch and wizard should have the opportunity to share their life with whomever they deserve, shouldn't they?
Then why, a voice in the back of Hermione's mind, why was it that Hermione herself restrained so extremely from looking for that love. If every witch and wizard deserves the beauty of waking up next to a lover, why did Hermione withhold this pleasure from herself?
If she could not convince herself that she deserved love, would she be a hypocrite to tell this man that he deserved the same?
Apologies for any mistakes, I proofread but it is difficult to catch everything. The next chapter will finally have things heating up as Hermione makes a decision and the plot can finally get rolling! I hope you'll consider reviewing and letting me know what you think!