AN: Thank you for the few reviews that I received, they were both helpful and encouraging and I really appreciate it! This chapter was so much fun to write, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Sorry for any mistakes I might have missed in editing, I think I caught most of them but who knows. Anyways, in this chapter you'll see a slightly tipsy Hermione get emotional and a slightly aged Minerva get emotional. Enjoy!
Autumn was bustling around the corner before Hermione could fully appreciate summer. The days were long and achingly hot for a lovely two months before the heat sweltered into lively storms that brought clouds rolling in and evening rains that weeks later cooled into a comfortable, though rather windy, breeze. Mrs. Weasley had already started her Christmas sweaters, Ginny was well into Quidditch practices, Ron and Lavender had moved in together, and Harry had been promoted to one of the higher up Aurors in the department. All was well in Hermione's first summer that didn't conclude with the excitement of returning to school. It was nearly August when the young witch finally made a decision on how she was going to handle the anonymous letter that bothered her so horribly. Dozens of editions of her article had been published and forgotten while she carried the mysterious response around with her. The folded parchment, once crisp and white but now yellow and wrinkled, stayed perpetually folded at the bottom of the pocket where she usually kept her wand. The words often swam about in her head as she tried to pretend that she felt as if she was doing her job to the fullest with an unanswered and pressing letter chaining her to her guilt like a weighted anchor.
In the last week of July she sat down with the editor, a calm and collected man who had always been open to Hermione's input, and explained her dilemma. The material wasn't very lighthearted and she was scared to publically admit her opinion on this man, but if she gave positive feedback it would be obvious support toward the Ministry's rehabilitation program—something the Prophet had stayed rather neutral on, as society sat on opposing and extreme positions when it came to the program. Geoff Tifflace, her editor, sat across from her with his glasses pushed high on his nose and a look of great concentration on his face as he reviewed the letters she had presented to him.
"Your response is very good, Hermione, I don't think the Ministry would complain." The decision was a relief but still she felt burdened,
"And the higher-ups here? How do you think they'll react?" Frown lines were visible as he turned his eyes back to the parchment, scanning with skilled speed.
"As long as your weekly disclaimer runs with this letter, I don't think it will be a problem. Is this the copy you're submitting, then?" Geoff was known for speaking rather slowly, he had a very soothing voice that sat low on the register, but many people avoided confronting him with editing issues because of his glacial pacing. The weekly disclaimer basically debriefed the readers that Jane's opinions were in no way affiliated with the Prophet's and were her own personal beliefs that the Prophet neither agreed nor disagreed with. Basically, the Daily Prophet took no responsibility for printing what they were paying her to write. It was charming, truly.
"Yes," Standing quickly, she collected her purse with hands that she convinced herself would not shake, "I think it's finally ready."
"Excellent, Hermione. It will be out in two days' time along with the others from this week…." Patiently waiting for an official dismissal, the witch waited only a few seconds longer before quickly shutting the door behind her and heading down to the office. It was out of her hands now; with a response written and waiting to be published, Hermione had officially removed the thought that had been secretly itching at the back of her mind all summer and she was free.
"Well it's about bloody time!" Ronald was laughing as he spoke but Ginny quickly kicked his shin under the table in a manner far from subtle, "What?" Incredulous he looked to Harry and Lavender for support, "I'm just saying, all we've heard since you started the bloody job was what to do about this Death Eater. Now you've told him to sod off and that'll be the end of it. Good riddance, I say, now you can finally get some real work done." With a jerk of his head signifying the end of his speech, Ron took a swig of his butterbeer that finished with a lip smacking sigh of satisfaction. Ginny and Hermione made eye contact in which the curly headed brunette made a dramatic display of rolling her eyes before laughing in good humor over the absurdity of the situation—who would've thought, back at school, that she would be giving Death Eaters personal advice?
"If I know Hermione," Harry spoke with amused eyes still lingering on Ron's flushing face. "she didn't tell him to sod off, did you?" Green eyes twinkled at hers in a way that quite reminded her of Sirius for a quick moment, though she brushed that thought to the side,
"No actually I didn't, Harry." Harry chuckled and Ginny stopped kicking at her brother to turn her full attention to her brunette friend. They were holed up in the back of the Leaky Cauldron, all squeezed into a booth with Hermione sitting at a chair stuck at the end of the table. It was a Friday night and the whole place was bustling and a live band was playing cover music rather loudly but Ginny had charmed their table so they could easily hear and speak without yelling. Magic was rather handy, indeed. Though, they were all just approaching a level of tipsiness where yelling seemed inevitable.
"No, course not. Why would you? That would only make too much bloody sense." Muttering into his butterbeer, Ron turned away from the conversation and toward his girlfriend. Lavender was quietly sitting as close to the wall as possible, not to exclude herself from Ron's friends (no, they'd all grown rather fond of her after the war), but to keep her heavily scarred face as shadowed as she could. The full moon had been only a few days ago and the cuts on her face were still red and puffy. Much shyer after the war, Lavender seemed thrilled to have Ron's attention all to herself. Well, Hermione thought in a way that she truly hoped wasn't bitterness, some things never change.
"What'd you say, Hermione?" Ginny had been drinking pumpkin juice and waters all night, much to Hermione's amusement, and had ignored her friends' nosy questioning. Now, her fingers were tightly wrapped within Harry's as they both leaned forward with looks of great curiosity. Knowing she had them in the palm of her hand, Hermione gave a nonchalant, sloppy shrug as she sipped her firewhiskey,
"I guess you'll just have to pay special attention to this Sunday's article." The smell of cigarettes was stronger than the slight haze that filled the room and as the three of them tipped their heads back in laughter, Hermione felt the smoke burn at her throat. On top of the burn of too much alcohol in her system and the slight chill of the start of autumn on her skin, Hermione knew this was what happiness was.
"No wonder you're still single, 'Mione," Ron's voice broke from the corner of the voice following a wet popping sound, "you're a bloody tease." Hurt registered quicker than she had expected it to. How she could possibly go from feeling without a care and on top of the world to smaller than the sickles she threw on the table to cover her bill, she did not know. Before Harry could make apologies or Ron could argue with Ginny for the quick kick she'd just bestowed upon his shin, Hermione was standing with her head bent and hair covering her quickly dampening cheeks,
"Right." It was higher pitched than she had aimed for, "I'll see you soon. Harry, Ginny, Lavender." With quick nods in their directions, not looking up to see the pity in any of their eyes', she turned quickly on the spot and returned home.
Feeling much like she had as a fourth year, though much more intoxicated, Hermione threw herself onto her bed with a groan of frustration. Tears were falling of their own accord, she blamed that time of the month bitterly, but mostly she was just frustrated. It wasn't like Hermione to sit idly by and let life happen to her. She was a go-getter, always had been. That's what made her such a Gryffindor, through and through, she sought out life and adventure. Docile, calm, lukewarm—these were adjectives that Hermione proudly lived knowing could never be attached to her name. Astute, proactive, complex, and passionate were her badges of honor. And yet, there she sat at the fragile transitionary period in one's life when they are out of school and thrust into adulthood feeling as if they have experienced very much but with no idea or desire to become the average adult. All in all Hermione felt very, very small and inconsequential in a very big world. Two very big worlds, technically, one in which she had made a very big splash and the other (the "real world" according to her well-meaning parents) in which she had quite literally accomplished nothing.
Being a war heroine had its perks and had blessed her with opportunities she was so very gracious for, yet there she was—in the same position she had been in her fourth year after the Yule Ball, crying over the same stupid boy. "Why do you ruin everything?" She'd screeched the words like a banshee then and they reiterated again in her head now. Though she knew it wasn't truly Ron's fault, he was not solely to blame, for this release of pent up emotions. Since she was eleven Hermione had had a greater goal to work toward: saving the wizarding world by supporting Harry and destroying Voldemort. When that goal had been completed she had set the new goal: graduate from Hogwarts with flying colors. That goal had been accomplished, as well, and now a heavy weight filled her. Dread pulled her heart down to the bottom of her stomach, even with her new job that was going swimmingly and the support of all of her friends, Hermione felt as if she had peaked and there were no true goals left to accomplish.
"Tea, Granger?" Minerva was already pouring the steaming drink into a gold rimmed teacup as Hermione nodded her consent, sitting quietly in her usual spot. Every Sunday afternoon since that first meeting which had ended with the brief encounter with Lucius Malfoy, Hermione joined her favorite professor for tea. This week the Daily Prophet sat at the small table between them, Minerva in her deep red armchair and Hermione on the matching loveseat, both reclining quietly as they listened to the sound of rain tapping against the windows. The steam rising of the tea warmed Hermione's face and her palms, too, were warmed by the heat of the saucer and cup.
"So," A coy smile was pursed upon the older woman's thin lips and Hermione knew she would have to beg if she wanted her curiosity quenched, "what did you think?" The Headmistress took a long sip of her tea, both fully aware that she was good humoredly making Hermione wait before she responded,
"It was very good, Hermione, but you already know that." Incapable of blushing at the truth, Hermione agreed with a small nod, "You want to know how I feel about your opinions, is that it?" Again, Hermione nodded anxiously and Minerva let her thin lips stretch into a wide smile of pride.
"You've always been bright, Hermione, there is no need for me to tell you that you are an exceptionally sharp witch that I consider to be like family to me." At this, the woman across from Hermione averted her eyes and blinked rapidly in a way that made Hermione's chest tighten and her own eyes sting, "I am so proud of the young woman you have become and I did not believe I could prouder of you than I was the day Voldemort was distinguished, but this morning you proved me wrong." At these words, Hermione's eyes filled with tears and an embarrassed blush crept up her neck and over her plump cheeks.
"Thank you, Headmistress-"
"Minerva, dear, please. You would think by now we would have discussed it." Conjuring a handkerchief for each of them, the older woman hurriedly wiped her eyes, "Now, we're being ridiculous. It's just an article, but I know how much you worried yourself over this response and I could not be prouder of how you handled yourself. Staying true to yourself, Hermione, even in anonymity shows great bravery."
"Thank you, Minerva," She accentuated the woman's name with a broad smile, "you have no idea how much it means for me to hear those words from you."
Beneath both typed letters from the anonymous writer, the Daily Prophet printed Hermione's keyed response:
Dear Fallen One,
Thank you very much for your loquacious response, you did not disappoint. Not that I assumed you would, but you must understand the great pleasure you bring me with your eloquent phrasing of even, what must surely be, the most painful memories. I realized only after I had received your response that I have not yet offer my condolences about your divorce; thus, I apologize both for my rudeness and my belated condolences.
This war has taken a heavy toll on our society, has it not? It is not just lives that have been ripped from our grasps, but the innocence of an entire generation that has been destroyed. The dewy-eyed idea that there is no evil on this earth that can harm witches and wizards, is not a folly that this generation will ever live with. However, we do have the gratification of knowing truly that good shall always overcome evil. With the death of Lord Voldemort it was inscribed in the history books that evil shall be banished time and time again by one beautiful thing that we all have within us: love.
So, my dear friend, I am quite pleased to inform you that you deserve love. You write of being involved with the Ministry's rehabilitation program, proving that you are ready to put this war behind you. You explained that during the war you were prejudiced against those for things that they could not change about themselves, like the status of their blood. Now, if anyone is prejudiced against you for your involvement in the war (a situation you cannot change) then they were behaving just as you did then.
I know on a logical level, Fallen One, that you know this already. I apologize for reiterating information that you already possess, but I could not respond without making sure you knew the truth. Anyone who tries to withhold happiness from you is acting as tragically poor as you did during the war. Happiness is a human right and this war has proven that we are very much humans. Mortal, complex beings who do little but build and destroy, build and destroy. Well, my friend, you admitted that you have destroyed. So now, I must beg you to build. Build a new life around the positivity that you can muster. Awake each day to the idea that the past is in the past and you have been given a second chance at mortality—and that you should use it wisely.
My advice to you is that you should pursue the one thing that will continue to rehabilitate you and ensure that Voldemort's legacy is dead: pursue love. Seek out love in all areas of life. Love yourself for being brave enough to survive, love your ex-wife for giving you the freedom you need to reinvent yourself, love your son for a reminder that making love creates life, and love this world that we live in for it is the only one that we have.
Fallen One, you only have one life to live and I suggest that you live it to the fullest. Do what makes you happy and do it with vigor. Pursue love, you deserve it. You are allowed to love. You deserve love. Be kind and have courage, I know you will do well.
With love,
Miss Jane
Beneath the response, Hermione had attached a series of addresses (both floo and standard) to several hotlines for depression, post-traumatic stress disorder, and the rehabilitation center. Though the rehabilitation program was mandatory for Death Eaters who had been marked, Hermione had a feeling that there were several people out there who could benefit from sitting through a few lessons on equality and love. Writing the letter had lifted a weight off her shoulders but being able to see the letter published was truly liberating. It wasn't only a letter to her anonymous friend, Hermione knew it was also a letter to herself. If she was having the same issues that she had had when she was back at Hogwarts she knew it was time to move on, make new friends, broaden her horizons, and allow herself the freedom to love.
Remember, there is always calm before the storm! Please let me know what you think, I'm excited to get this next chapter finished up and posted :)