CHAPTER THREE: The letter

It's been six days since Draco's interview. He was sitting in his kitchen, looking by the window at the fogged meadow beside his family's house and sipping coffee. He was frustrated. He knew he didn't have a chance, not when she wasn't answering for almost a week now and not when she knew who he was. He knew it's been partly his fault, but what more could he have done? He literally bared his soul to her, and she still wasn't going to give him a chance.

He could start working somewhere else… For the Daily Prophet, for example. He didn't really have the experience that could make him fit in there, but he could make this work. But if Granger wasn't willing to give him a chance, no one else would. It was true. He was one of the most hated men in the country. And frankly, without the support of Madame Minister herself, he was doomed. Of course, when he first applied for a job, he didn't know it would be her who'd interview him. But he knew that she would have to be the one to accept him as a new member of the board since she was a Minister. But when he found out he had to go to the interview conducted by her, he felt almost like the world crumbled down upon him. He knew he stood no chance.

And yet, he told her the story. Was he desperate? Probably. Did he believe he could convince her? He'd never admit it – not even before himself – but yes, he did.

He took his empty plate and put it down in the sink, still gazing at the meadow. Then, he saw something flying towards the window.

An owl.

It was somewhat small. Whether it was grey or brown, Draco couldn't tell. A little bit dusty. It must've been a screech owl.

The Ministry owl.

It landed on a windowsill and started knocking on the glass with its beak. Draco let it in, a little reluctantly – he didn't want to let himself feel false hope. It flew over his head and sat down on the table where he'd just finished eating breakfast. He cautiously took the letter and opened it. Sure enough, the seal had a logo which said "Ministry of Magic".

"To Draco Malfoy.

I apologise for the late response, but I was rather busy with other assignments – and I did have to take my time with this one. I have a few more things to discuss with you, but you can be hopeful about the job. Since I have a tremendous amount of work at the moment, I suggest meeting during the lunch hour on Monday, preferably at the Leaky Cauldron since it's the closest.

Kind regards,

Minister for Magic,

Hermione Granger"

For a moment, he forgot how to breathe. He couldn't believe it even though he read it about a thousand times, just to be sure. But there was hope – she wrote that herself. There was hope.

Hermione Granger was sitting in one of her favourite London cafés. She liked it here because it was far away from prying eyes, hidden in one of the alleys. It's where she knew she could go whenever she wanted to be alone. No one knew this place, mostly because it was in a muggle part of London. She was pretty sure the lady who owned the café was, in fact, a Squib – but they never talked about it, and it didn't seem like the lady had any contact with the wizarding world. It was just a hunch.

The café's owner name was Joanna – and she was an enthusiast when it came to coffee, tea and cakes. The café itself was small – it only had a few tables, but it was cosy. It was also rather dark, but candles and unique lamps gave just enough light.

Hermione was sipping a cup of hot autumn tea. Joanna recommended it to her for so long until she finally gave in. Since then, she ordered it each time it was available – from the end of September up until December. It was a simple black tea with pumpkin spice, cinnamon, ginger and orange. It was absolutely heavenly, each time.

She was sitting by the only window, a small one – but tall. She could see some passerby, hurrying down the street with umbrellas in hands. It was a chilly Saturday, but it didn't stop people from going out of their houses. Joanna brought her favourite pumpkin cheesecake with caramel on top. Hermione thanked her, but couldn't bring herself to smile.

"What's up, hun?" asked Joanna, immediately noticing her bad mood.

"Oh, it's nothing," she smiled sadly. "Stuff at work. Just worrying, that's all."

"I think that means you deserve a free carrot-cake muffin," she smiled and fetched one from the counter.

"Oh, no, please don't. It's not necessary," Hermione waved her hand dismissively, abashed.

"Come on, hun, what do you expect me to do? You're my regular, you always leave me tips way more generous than I deserve. And I'm supposed to just leave you in a bad mood?" Joanna asked, putting her hands on the hips, looking down on her.

"Well… Thank you" Hermione said, smiling sheepishly. "I mean it."

"Then eat up. And whatever it is at work? You can deal with it. You look like a capable gal."

If you're Minister for Magic, you have to be, she thought to herself, glad that she managed to keep the thought to herself.

She packed her muffin for later and took a bite of her favourite cake. It didn't make her feel better about her life – but it definitely made her feel better about these five minutes when she was going to eat it.

She had absolutely no idea what to do with Draco Malfoy. That bit about "having a tremendous amount of work" was absolute rubbish. Of course, she did have quite a lot to do, but she had more than enough time to deal with him. She had spent six days thinking and thinking about the proper way to approach this issue. In fact, she was so lost in her non-stopping train of thought that she had to ask Astoria about what day it was. When she found out it was Saturday, she panicked. It was too long. Literally, too long – the Ministry was supposed to respond in five business days unless it was a request, proposal, petition or something else of that kind. But when it came down to issuing employment information, Ministry had five days. She broke a rule and didn't even realise that. She panicked and wrote that rubbish about being busy – well, she was – thinking about what to do with him – but she couldn't write that. It was easier for her to lie on paper than to his face, so she hoped he wouldn't bring up this topic.

She had absolutely no idea what she wanted to discuss with him. He told her everything – or at least the most crucial parts. She really wanted to give him a chance – but it was just so risky and could endanger someone. If only she had someone to talk about it. But she knew how Ron would react.

"That poor, slimy excuse of a person wants to work here? You're bloody crazy for even thinking about that!"

Was she? Crazy? She didn't know. Hermione thought about Harry, too – he was more open-minded than Ron – but she just didn't consider it a good idea, either. Harry and Draco were life-long enemies. And she knew that Harry would support her in whatever decision she would make, that he would trust her. But he wasn't exactly the right person to discuss this decision with. She still remembered how obsessed Harry was with Malfoy in their sixth year. And even though he was right, after all – that just made Harry not the best person to ask for help in this case.

Ginny…?

"If even for one second you think that you owe him anything, I promise you, Hermione-"

Of course she didn't – and Ginny knew that she knew that. But she was… well, hot-tempered, to put it mildly. Ginny was not one to have a calm and reasonable discussion about Malfoy with. Besides, she was at the Quidditch Cup somewhere in Slovakia right about now. She was coming home next week, and Hermione needed to make this decision now.

She knew who was the best person to discuss it with.

Kingsley Shacklebolt.

But, of course, he was assassinated. By one of the Death Eaters. One of those that she risked letting straight into the Ministry. On the one hand, she thought it was ridiculous to think Malfoy was still a Death Eater. He wasn't very keen on it back then, and she saw it, through all this hatred. Behind the veil of despise. But maybe he was still stupid enough to think it would somehow benefit him?

That was ridiculous. Voldemort was dead for so long now, why would anyone benefit from this? And yet, Shacklebolt was very much dead.

Oh, the chaos in her head – she hated it. Whenever it was happening, she despised it. She preferred to see everything clearly, logically or like a puzzle – just the pieces you had to put together so that you could see the picture clearly. But there were too many pieces this time. And she had to figure it out all by herself.

The bell by the door rang, announcing another customer. A tall, weirdly dressed in a dark-green robe figure came in. Hermione looked at the peculiar person, completely flabbergasted.

"P-professor McGonagall!" she shrieked in surprise.

The tall witch turned to her. There was no mistaking her – the hair still tied up in a tight bun, the same snow-cold green eyes, sharp features. She smiled warmly at her.

"Madame Minister. A pleasure to see you," she greeted her.

"Oh, please, professor, no need to be so formal," said Hermione, suddenly feeling incredibly awkward.

"You've just called me professor, Miss Granger," said McGonagall, looking at her slightly amused.

"It's just so good to see you."

"You look like you've got a lot on your mind," noticed professor.

Hermione didn't even bring up the strength to deny it. She just nodded.

"I'll have a cup of tea, please," McGonagall addressed Joanna.

"Black, green, white, red, earl grey, oolong-"

"Just black, no sugar, please."

"Yes, of course, right away," said Joanna, clearly disappointed with the choice.

"So, something at the Ministry, I presume?" professor turned back to Hermione, sitting next to her.

Granger looked at her, and for the first time in her life, she believed in destiny. How was it possible that the smartest person alive, whom she trusted and respected all her life, came through that door? Into the small, muggle café? Whether it was destiny or her incredible, incredible luck, she wasn't going to waste it.

"Well, professor, maybe you can help me," said Hermione with a sudden determination in her eyes.

McGonagall gave her a curious look.

"You remember Draco Malfoy, professor? Well, of course you do," she chuckled nervously.

"Yes, I do," she responded, clearly confused.

"Well… Malfoy came in, looking for a job. When I saw the resume, I just thought I should throw it away – but it was actually good. And, well, I fought for equality for muggle-borns and house-elves for so long, it wouldn't be really fair of me to just reject his application based on who he was, would it? So I asked him to come in for an interview, even though it wasn't my job to interview him, it is actually-"

"Get to the point, please," said McGonagall with her stern look.

Hermione almost felt like back in school.

"Yes, of course. He told me. His story."

"And?"

"I believe him. I believe that he wants to start over and that he wants to stay here, with family and that he wants to be better."

"Then, why are you here moping about it?"

Hermione chuckled but sighed heavily after a moment.

"Because it's a huge responsibility to hire a former Death Eater. It's a bit like hiring a convict in the muggle world. I have nothing but his word for it and-"

"Just his word?" professor gave her a surprised look. "It's been almost nine years, Granger. I should think that nine years in which he behaved nothing if not perfectly acceptable is all the evidence you need. You wouldn't interview him if he did something bad during those nine years, would you?"

"But, professor, Kingsley-"

"Kingsley Shacklebolt was murdered by Antonin Dolohov, a Death Eater who had followed Voldemort since the beginning, and who had always been faithful to him. You should know better than to see the resemblance between the two," she frowned.

"But how can I be sure? I have to protect my people. The war is over, but ever since the previous Minister was killed, it hasn't been exactly a candy-flavoured Every Flavour Bean."

There was a long silence in which McGonagall started sipping her tea.

"It's only natural that you want to be cautious," she started. "If you think Malfoy's suitable for the job if he's got experience and skill, you should hire him. You've said so yourself – you believe him."

"I should take some precautions, though, shouldn't I?" Hermione bit her lip as if with uncertainty.

"You can only answer that yourself. If you feel that is what you should do, do it."

"I want to know your take on this, professor," Hermione said, glancing at her nervously.

"I can't tell you what to do, but I certainly can tell you that some reasonable precautions are a good idea. He will have time to prove yourself to you. And I can also tell you that Draco Malfoy was an intelligent boy. If not for his upbringing, he might have ended up a completely different person. Maybe this is his chance, right now, to change."