Chapter Five

Hogwarts

September 24, 2017

Victoire awoke the next morning in the hospital bed beside her sister. She stood and padded over to the window. It was early, as evidenced by the soft light and the heavy fog sitting low on the ground, maybe around seven. She glanced at the partial reflection the window gave her. Her hair looked mussed and dry, her blue eyes tired and her skin rough. She went back to the bed she had claimed and searched in its blankets for her wand and performed a refresher spell and a general dressing spell, which gave her the feeling of having just stepped out of the shower and gotten ready for the day. She knew that while she felt it and looked it, it wasn't entirely true, and the charms wouldn't last long.

She sat back down in an uncomfortable chair with a green plastic cushion next to her sister, who had been given dinner and a dreamless sleep potion to give her ample rest. Victoire held Dominique's hand in her own and kissed it, tearing up as she thought through the frightening events of yesterday afternoon. While violence like that was something she should never have to know, Dominique was only fifteen, which made matters even more heartbreaking for Victoire. Every witch was used to the attention that men gave them, the unprompted compliments and the sexist jokes and language. She knew this was one example of how the social policies of the wizarding world did not stray far from the muggle world, and chalked it up to a flaw in the male species. But violence like this was rather rare in the wizarding world, that she knew for sure. She knew from her history of magic courses and extracurricular study that men and women who served the Dark Lord Voldemort performed unspeakable acts during the last two wars, but Victoire also knew that there had been very few acts like this during peacetime, especially by strangers.

Victoire sighed, resting her forehead on Dominique's bed. She couldn't think about it anymore. She was just glad they had found her when they did. Victoire heard the double doors to the Hospital Wing swing slowly open, so she sat up and turned around. Louis came walking in, looking as sleepless as Victoire felt, with a basket evidently nicked from the kitchens as it was filled with croissants and fruits and a plastic box of sausages. Louis pulled a chair up beside Victoire and kissed her on the cheek.

"Did she wake up at all?" he asked, opening the basket and handing Victoire a small plate.

She shook her head, accepting a croissant, strawberries, and a sausage. She ate quickly, having not had the stomach for food the night before.

"I want to murder him." Louis announced softly a few minutes into their silent breakfast. He bit violently into a sausage. "I want to murder him and everyone like him. I just don't understand. It's so. It's so personal." Louis looked down at the plate in his lap.

Victoire scooted her chair closer to his, leaning her head onto his shoulder. He was only thirteen, but Victoire was realizing that something like this could impact anyone of any age. She was about to reply when the doors swung open again, and the two siblings turned their head to see who the new guest was.

Their parents were walking briskly towards them. Victoire suddenly realized how much she was becoming like her mother. She was already the spitting image of her, and as her mother crossed the room, worry creased into her face, she realized just how much alike they really were. Victoire shook the out of place thought process out of her mind for now and stood to embrace her parents. The four hugged one another together. Stepping back, Victoire studied their faces to find them sleepless. Her mother looked like she had aged one hundred years in one night, as did her father.

"McGonagall wouldn't let us come last night, she said that there was nothing to be done until the morning." Fleur complained, her French accent thicker in her exhaustion. "A horrible decision, if you ask me." Fleur approached her youngest daughter slowly, walking around to the other side of the bed. Finally she kissed the still sleeping Dominique on the forehead and held the girl's hand, looking up at her husband. "I just don't understand."

Bill came to his wife's side, putting an arm around her and resting his other hand on his daughter in the bed. "I don't either, Fleur. I don't either."

Hermione sat down at her desk near the end of a long Monday. She was emotionally exhausted from the day's agenda. She had gone in knowing it would be a tough day, with the acquisition of her niece's rapist on Saturday and receiving Dominique's statement on Sunday. She entered the office that morning with a fresh pile of paperwork on her desk and a to-do list a mile long, but it was the first item on that to-do list that wrecked her the most. She had spent sixty long minutes with her niece grilling her with the mandatory ministry-supplied questions, and she hated every minute of it. At one point, both witches were crying, and the only thing Dominique could say was "It's okay, Aunt Hermione, I know we have to." It was the have-to's that Hermione most often hated about her job, but as an Officer in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, she had gotten used to them quickly. She was just glad that she was there to do the questioning instead of some stranger asking Dominique dozens of invasive questions.

Ron walked into her office near the End of Day bell, walking around her desk and capturing his wife in a tight hug.

"How did it go?"

"It was awful. I felt so horrible having to ask her all of those questions, Ron. I can't believe that's part of protocol."

Ron nodded, transitioning from the hug to providing a shoulder massage.

"I mean, do they really need to know how he got her in the alleyway? Do they really need to know the sequence of events that lead to my niece being violated so intensely? All they need to know is if he did it or not. I mean, he was caught red-handed."

Ron shrugged. The entire situation made his rage levels soar, so he had been trying not to meditate on it. He was reminded of when Hermione was tortured in the Malfoy mansion and he had no clue what was going on. But, obviously, this method wasn't working for Hermione.

Just then there was a knock on the door. "Come in." Hermione called, shuffling some papers around. Harry and Kingsley Shacklebolt walked in together.

"Harry! Minister! Hello." Hermione said. Ron raised his eyebrows in greeting. He had just left the two of them in the auror office.

"Good afternoon, Hermione. I trust you're doing well?" Kingsley asked, sitting in a chair opposite Hermione's.

"As well as one might imagine, Minister."

"Oh yes, Harry and Ron were discussing your role in the young Ms. Weasley's case earlier. I'm terribly sorry you had to go through all of that with your niece."

Hermione shook her head, "I was glad it was me, to be honest, instead of someone else."

The minister nodded, seemingly waiting an appropriate amount of time before changing the subject. "I've brought some things to Harry and Ron's attention that I think you should be clued into as well."

Hermione paused her paper shuffling to look up at the minister. "Alright."

Kingsley looked at Harry. Harry cleared his throat from his position leaning against the far wall. "The ministry is looking to construct a Conflict Task Team, Hermione, meaning that we're anticipating something major happening with all of this stuff happening with the International Confederation of Wizards."

Hermione frowned. "There hasn't been any action yet, as I understand it. Why should we be moving forward when all anyone has said is that they are upset about the way that power is distributed within the Security & Diplomats Council?"

Kingsley shifted in his chair. "I have reason to believe that we may be looking at a more physical response in a matter of months, maybe weeks."

Hermione took a deep breath, but looked skeptical. "Weeks? Surely there isn't that much tension. Why haven't I heard of this prediction before? Surely this involves my department?"

Kingsley nodded. "The relationship between wizarding East and wizarding West is even more strained than anyone understands, Hermione. It's incredibly tied to the renaissance of thought that the muggle world is going through right now in terms of reclaiming colonized cultures, but the wizarding world isn't healing as quickly, or at all, rather. The same disputes have been going on for centuries about rights and powers, and I for one don't even know the beginning of it. But we may be looking at the end, if it's possible."

Harry spoke up once more. "And as for why you haven't heard about this, Hermione, is because this isn't strictly ministry business, what we're discussing right now. Kingsley is suggesting this within another realm."

"The Order." Hermione said.

Kingsley nodded. "Precisely."

"So you are suggesting that we create a ministry task team of Order members."

"Essentially."

Hermione sat back in her office chair. "Why not just involve the Order?"

Kingsley and Harry shared a look. Harry spoke. "There are people in the ministry who don't entirely trust the Order. When Kingsley implied that the Order would keep … vigilant, so to speak, about the situation, there was a lot of concern that the Order can act on their own."

Ron spoke, moving to stand in front of Hermione's large faux-window. "They don't like the fact that the Order isn't under ministry control."

Hermione frowned. "That's the point of the Order, though, isn't it? It provides a system of checks and balances for the ministry. It's obviously necessary – the Order won the last war, not the ministry. The ministry was infiltrated and taken over."

Kingsley shifted again in his seat, undoubtedly unconsciously conveying his own mental turmoil over the situation, not just his own lack of physical comfort in the hard office chair. "Most think that situations like that are in the past, that this is a new era of peace and trust within the British wizarding community."

"That's likely." Hermione snorted.

Kingsley stood to leave the threesome. "I just wanted to give you all a heads up as to what might come. I didn't want to leave you out of the loop." He shook hands with Harry, opening the door to leave.

"Well, thank you, Minister." Her tone became more formal as the door was open and the possibility for other to hear increased. "We'll certainly give it some thought." Kingsley nodded and exited with a final wave. Harry closed the door after him, and Ron assumed his seat.

"I don't know about this at all," Hermione began. "I would be fine with the task force being made up of members from the Order, but with Kingsley's insinuation that the Order might very well be dissolved in the presence of such a team…" She trailed off, shaking her head and clicking her quill obnoxiously against her wooden desk.

Harry nodded in agreement. "I wouldn't want to see the constitution of the Order suffer for the sake of a ministry-governed group. As much as I respect and trust Kingsley, and as many of our friends work for the ministry now, there are still people quite high in the power structure that I don't quite fully trust."

"Constant vigilance." Ron commented with a smile. "Mad-Eye would've never submitted to something like this."

Hermione stood up, gathering her things. "Well, either way, I'll definitely need to think on it." She paused, looking around her desk for something before continuing on. "I wonder if I can submit library requests for the same week I want to go, I need to do some-

"Research." Harry and Ron finished for her as she walked out the door. They followed quickly behind, rolling their eyes at each other in passing.

Victoire awoke Monday morning without a clue of what day it was. For the first five minutes she lay still in bed, staring out the window across from her bed into a clear blue sky. She finally turned to look at her nearest sleeping roommate, only to find that her roommates weren't sleeping, and in fact weren't there at all. Victoire groaned and rolled over to check her alarm clock.

"Bloody hell." She threw off her bedding and jumped out of bed, feet slamming firmly onto the ground. She reasoned that she had just enough time for a shower without being late for her first class. After an extremely rushed shower, she ran back into her room, put on her clothes and reached to pick up her school bag. In doing so, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

"Forget it." Victoire dropped her books on the ground, got back into bed and pulled the curtains of her four-poster shut tight. She had accidentally dressed into her pajamas. "I'll send an owl to the professors later on."

Victoire pulled out a piece of parchment and a self-inking quill.

Teddy,

I haven't gone to class this morning. I feel bad about it, it's not as if I was the one attacked. Dominique seems to be doing exceptionally well, considering. It's strange to think that some people can move on from events like this and others can't. I can't stop thinking about the look on Dominique's face when we found her. It's heartbreaking and terrifying that someone would violate someone I love like that, or anyone at all. I don't understand it and it's apparently taking me a long time to process. I miss you already, and I'm sorry we fought this weekend. I do understand what you were saying, and I promise to act with more consideration next time I feel the need to talk to you about your career or your gross flat or your health. I'm also sorry I just called your flat gross. But Teddy, wave your wand a bit, honestly. Last time I saw it in August, it was revolting.

all my love,

Victoire

Quickly sealing the short letter into an envelope, she stuck it on her bedside table for delivery via owl post later on. First, she decided, a nap was in order. She hadn't slept well all weekend.

Thanks for reading!