Chapter Two
Celebrations began all over the world only minutes after the last dementor died its agonizing death. Even those who had been fortunate to have never been near one of those foul creatures sighed a breath of relief that they'd never feel the icy chill of a dementor's presence, never know for certain which horrible memories from their past would be drawn out for the evil, nasty monster's pleasure. Never again would a person, whether innocent or not, be forced to look under a dementor's hood to see a sight beyond their worst nightmare. Souls would remain firmly ensconced within the bodies they belonged.
Harry knew he should feel joy and pride at his accomplishment. "Dementor Destroyer" was no longer a tongue-in-cheek nickname bestowed upon him by those who never really believed he would be successful. He'd earned the damned title. For the rest of his life he would wear it with his head held high. Unlike the 'Chosen One', he'd made the choice to become the Destroyer. He joined in the cheers and shouts with the other wizards who'd become closer than brothers during their prolonged hunt, but deep down all he really felt was bitter disappointment.
What was he expecting to happen? With the annihilation of an entire species did he expect all of the horrific memories he still carried around would somehow disappear? He'd been able to accomplish something that no one thought possible. Where was his excitement? His joy? Forcing a smile on his face, he celebrated their victory with the other warriors. Maybe if he could pretend he was as happy as they seemed to be, he would eventually start to feel it too.
A grand party the likes the Ministry of Magic hadn't seen since the end of the last war was set up in the Atrium. Interoffice memos flew to every corner of the London Headquarters inviting everyone to drop what they were going to join their coworkers in toasting the success of the Dementor Eradication Plan. Work could wait for them later. It wasn't every day they had something so monumental to celebrate. Kingsley offered Hermione and Blaise a personal invitation to join the festivities once he was done hugging and tossing Hermione in the air.
Champagne flowed freely. Everyone around her seemed to be enjoying the party, but even after her second glass Hermione still struggled to feel as happy and excited as she knew she should. While she could say truthfully without a moment's hesitation that she was proud of Harry's accomplishment, she also couldn't deny she was painfully jealous too. She didn't feel that way after his last victory. When he defeated Voldemort, she'd been at his side nearly every step of the way. Perhaps she needed a crusade of her own to halt the shameful feelings she couldn't stop.
"No matter how brightly you smile, I can still see the jealousy seething inside of you."
Leave it to Blaise to make an already uncomfortable experience even more so. She didn't know why he enjoyed torturing her as much as he did. What made it even worse was the simple fact she couldn't deny his statement. Instead of replying, she picked up her third glass of champagne from one of the floating trays flying all over the room.
"If you're desperate for your own glory, you could always owl Loony Lovegood and ask if you could join her on her next search for the Crumple-Horned Snorkack."
Unwilling to give the obnoxious wizard a response, Hermione rolled her eyes and walked away. Even through the din of the celebration she could hear his laughter. She was not in the mood to listen to his taunts or worse, his painfully accurate moments of insight. There wasn't enough champagne in the world to endure that torture.
Seeing Arthur Weasley across the large Atrium, she headed straight for him. It had been a few weeks since she'd spoken to the wizard. Though not as close to the Weasley family as she'd been when she was dating Ron years earlier, she still admired them greatly.
"Oh, Hermione! There you are. What a wonderful day, isn't it?"
Clearly already intoxicated, she couldn't help but smile at the jolly man. Arthur's red cheeks and ready grin proved he'd been drinking more than most of the other officials. No doubt he did so out of relief that Harry's dangerous mission was over. Even though Harry didn't end up marrying Ginny like everyone expected he would, Arthur and Molly still considered him to be one of their sons. Blood wasn't important. Neither was marriage for that matter.
"Yes, it is. I hope this means Harry will be coming home soon. I've missed him."
And she truly had. That wasn't even one of those easy lies one said in polite company. There'd been a time in her life when Harry was her best friend and despite all of the complications and disagreements, she hoped one day they could be again. If she had to apologize to him for not believing he would complete his mission without getting himself killed, she would do so gladly. It still bothered her when she recalled that particular day how brutal she'd been. Not even an abundance of fear for his safety was a good enough excuse for how she acted.
"I've missed him too. Ron was telling me just yesterday about an owl Harry sent him last week before he was too far north for more owls."
The smile on her face as she listened was forced and a little painful. Approaching Arthur seemed like a preferable alternative to listen to Blaise for another moment, but perhaps she'd been too hasty in her escape. Never was she so grateful to be joined by Kingsley.
"Ahh, Kingsley! Just the wizard I want to see. You'll be recommending my boy for a raise, won't you?"
"Arthur, I've not only spoken to the Head of the Department of Mysteries about a raise and a promotion, but I've even recommended him myself for another Order of Merlin."
"Excellent! He deserves all that and more."
A wizard with the Department for Magical Law Enforcement approached their group to clap Arthur on the shoulder and offer him congratulations. Using Arthur's moment of distraction, Kingsley leaned down to whisper in Hermione's ear.
"Meet me in my office in five minutes."
The blush to her cheeks as she silently nodded her head in agreement had nothing to do with the champagne. After he shook Arthur's hand again, he made his excuses to slip away. Hermione watched him cross the Atrium in the corner of her eye. Several times he stopped to greet other officials and ensure they were enjoying the impromptu celebration.
Three glasses would be her limit. She really should've stopped at one. Not a seasoned drinker, the bubbly wine went straight to her head. Once her glass was empty and she thought the agreed upon amount of time passed, she headed for the Minister's office. Arthur didn't notice her sneak away nor did anyone else. Likely if anyone saw her leave they simply expected her to be returning to her office to resume working. It's what she would've done under normal circumstances after all.
Prepared with an acceptable excuse why she would need to see the Minister on such short notice, Hermione discovered when she arrived there was no need. There was no sign of his assistant. The nosy woman likely would've tried to brush her off if she was. After knocking on Kingsley's office entrance once, she pushed open the door. It shut behind her and the lock clicked seemingly all on its own.
Strong hands reached for her, pushing her body back against the heavy wooden door. Far from being frightened by the sudden attack, she was excited. It was exactly what she hoped would happen when Kingsley whispered in her ear.
"You haven't been in my office for far too long, Little Witch."
The confident press of his lips against hers threatened to steal the very breath from her lungs. How could he make every kiss, their hundredth, their thousandth, feel like the first one? It was a talent of his she'd yet to figure out.
"You're the one who has been traveling. It's not my fault the Minister for Magic is so important."
"I should sneak you into my suitcase next time. Those trips are always so damned boring."
There was no more talking for several long minutes when he kissed her again. No one in her life would've guessed that she'd been having an ongoing secret relationship with the Minister for nearly three years. It was nothing serious, nothing even worth talking about. Kingsley always said she was free to date someone else if she wanted and he would understand. No mention was ever made about the two of them going public. Neither of them wanted that. They were just there for pleasure. And with Kingsley, there was a lot of pleasure.
Her robes pooled at her feet. Kingsley's hands roamed over her back and up to her chest. Encounters in his office, or hers when Blaise was gone for the night, were never long, lingering affairs. No, those were saved for weekends at his cousin's holiday cottage in the Lake District or late nights in her bedroom. Rare when they happened, they were always memorable. His hands were too big for the delicate buttons on her blouse, a fact that usually annoyed him enough to rip the garment with promises to repair it later. When the first small lavender button popped off, she smiled against his mouth and gently pushed his hands away.
"This is silk. Not even the great and powerful Minister's reparo could make it like new again."
The deep groan in the back of his throat drew a laugh out of Hermione. Quickly, knowing just like most Gryffindors patience wasn't his strongest attribute, she unbuttoned the pesky impediments. The blouse fell to the floor on top of her robes leaving her wearing only her bra and a too-tight pencil skirt she knew would be ripped the very moment he touched it. How Muggles were able to have steamy office romances without going bankrupt replacing their wardrobes was a mystery. She was grateful for charms and spells that usually solved the problem of rips and tears.
A happy accident taught them early on in their illicit affair that the top of his desk was the perfect height for amorous activities. Lifting her up with his hands tightly gripping her arse, he carried her over the few steps to what was her favorite piece of furniture in the entire office. Instead of bending her over, an intensely delightful position she loved, he laid her down on her back. Just as she suspected, a loud tear ripped through the air when he tried to push the fabric up over her thighs.
"Am I mistaken or do your skirts keep getting shorter and tighter?"
"That better not be a sly way to tell me you think I'm getting fat."
His booming laughter sent vibrations through her skin each place he kissed. She knew her own body well enough to know she hadn't gained more than a kilogram or two in years. It was her mother's good genes and high metabolism she inherited to thank.
"Absolutely not, Little Witch. I'm just curious if your change in clothing has to do with trying to impress another wizard."
"And if it was? Are you jealous?"
It wasn't. She was simply far behind on her laundry and it had been a long time since she'd gone shopping for new clothes. There hardly ever seemed to be enough hours in the day to do something so mundane. She'd been forced to dig into the very back of her wardrobe to clothes she bought on a whim years earlier. Her Ministry robes usually hid how short her skirts and dresses were.
"Not jealous. Simply curious."
He never was. Not even when she brought dates to Ministry functions or she stopped answering his late-night owls for the short period of time she tried to start a new relationship that inevitably failed. Once upon a time it would've depressed her to come to the conclusion that Kingsley was never going to be more than a tawdry little secret, but no longer. She understood what they were and what they would never be. Younger, idealistic Hermione would've been sad. She didn't have time for that now. It was best for both of them to not dwell on the impossibilities and just live in the moment.
"You're going to be missed from your own party if we stay in here too long."
"Eager for me, are you, Little Witch?"
A spell vanished all trace of her knickers. She hated when he did that, especially if she was wearing a pair she particularly liked, but didn't have the energy to complain. Already she was aching to get her mind off of the downward spiraling thoughts she couldn't ignore. The loss of her knickers was hardly a large enough concern. Anything to move on to the fun part would be allowed on that occasion.
Kingsley checked to make sure she was ready with his fingers before forging on ahead. Foreplay wasn't something they could waste a lot of time on when they were at the office. Especially when they were alone in the middle of the workday there was always a concern they would be interrupted. Satisfied that she was primed and prepared, he filled her in one single stroke. She moaned at the pleasant intrusion. Experience and practice taught him all of the ways to touch her to get the most expedient of results.
"I should throw a party every day if it means I can do this."
"Less talking, more⦠fuck."
Her unintentional utterance made him laugh. Intense and passionate, she could tell from the very beginning how he increased his pace from the start that he wasn't going for long-distance. She didn't mind. The harder he tried to make her come, the harder she usually came. It was a delightful consequence of a three year affair. Able to stand with both feet on the ground with her legs wrapped around his waist, Kingsley showed no mercy. The Minister for Magic's office was outfitted with permanent silencing spells to keep any classified secrets from leaking out to those outside. Hermione took advantage. Though it had its own sort of fun to try to keep quiet when they were in her office, she much preferred when they were in his.
A loud knocking on his office door stopped him mid-thrust. Frustrated that they were in danger of having to cut their interlude short, he cursed under his breath and sped up his pace. The knocking continued, more insistent by the second. Someone was desperate to speak. Little did they know that the man they wished to see could have a one-track mind when his trousers were around his ankles.
The buzzing from his intercom forced another groan out of him. His assistant used it far too often for his tastes. It wasn't the first time she'd interrupted a pleasant afternoon with a push of a button. Determined to ignore the world outside of his office until they were finished, Kingsley put even more effort into completing his task. Finding the humor in the situation, Hermione's throaty moans were punctuated by amused giggles. The corner of his mouth threatened to smile. Harder and harder he slammed into her body as the buzzing continued. No longer able to think about anything beyond the feel of him inside her, Hermione closed her eyes. Even though there was no risk of being heard outside, he covered her mouth with his when she screamed. He followed over the edge moments later. Collapsed on her chest and still inside her body, he pushed the button on his intercom to bark out a question to his assistant. The usually unruffled Minister wasn't able to hide the frustration in his voice.
"What is it?"
"Sir, the Head of St. Mungo's, the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and the Head of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement need to speak with you urgently."
It wasn't just any random assortment of visitors. They were important and if they said they needed to speak with him urgently, he had no doubt it was true. Sighing, he pushed the button to speak again.
"Give me a minute."
There was no exit to the office without being seen. No matter how perfect her hair might be or how unwrinkled her clothes might be when she stepped outside, they would suspect what just happened. Rumors would spread throughout the Ministry within minutes. As humiliating as it was, Hermione knew she would have to hide. Summoning her clothes from across the room, she slid underneath the desk. Kingsley composed himself as best he could before opening the door.
"Gentleman, what could be so important that you're missing the celebration?"
He sounded every bit the practiced and accomplished diplomat that he was. Unable to see anything from her hiding place, she couldn't be sure how many pairs of feet she heard enter the office. Kingsley kept his visitors as far away from the desk as possible without forcing them into the corridor. A voice she assumed to be the Head of St. Mungo's spoke the moment the door was shut again.
"Minister Shacklebolt, something very bizarre happened earlier. One of our long-term patients in the basement woke up. Bartemius Crouch Jr. has been demanding he be released from St. Mungo's ever since."
The name sent a chill up Hermione's spine. She hadn't thought about the Death Eater who impersonated her Defense Against the Dark Arts professor in years. There had been no reason to after the war he helped to start ended.
"How is that possible? He had the Dementor's Kiss twelve years ago. No one has ever woken up from that before."
"We can only speculate it has something to do with all of the dementors being killed, Kingsley. From the Healer's statement, he woke up right about the time we got Potter's patronus telling us they were successful."
The Head of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement repeated that they didn't know for certain that was the reason. It was, however, the only one that made any sense.
"Crouch was the last Dementor's Kiss recipient still physically alive. Honestly, it's been a bit of a puzzle how his body hadn't died yet. Most don't last long."
"Kingsley, we're in a bit of a legal quandary. Rutherford was just telling us how Crouch has been demanding to leave St. Mungo's and as he appears to be physically healthy, they have no reason to keep him. That's why I brought Mr. Zabini with me and why we tried to find Miss Granger."
Hearing the voice of one of her bosses, the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, announce Blaise was in the small group steps away made Hermione cringe. Wouldn't he just love to know she was hiding under the desk half-naked? She'd never hear the end of it.
"'Legal quandary'? He's a convicted Death Eater. Take him to Azkaban."
"That's where the legal troubles begin, I'm afraid. He's claiming that as he was sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss, he's completed his punishment and should be free to go."
Kingsley's frustration was obvious in his voice when he told the group he would meet them at St. Mungo's shortly after he found Hermione. He claimed he had a suspicion where she could be found. Moments later she heard the heavy door open and close. The Minister held his hand out to help her crawl out from under the desk.
"Sorry about that. Maybe I should have a cloak cupboard built to give you a more respectable place to hide next time."
"Or maybe we should be more careful."
"Where's the fun in that?"
He stopped being annoyed by the turn in events to shoot a cheeky wink in her direction. A smile appeared her lips before she could stop it. Yes, as unhealthy as their arrangement was, she didn't see them stopping any time soon. Not when there were no strings attached and a delightful encounter was always only a single purple interdepartmental memo away. A well-coded memo, naturally.
"Did you hear everything?"
Nodding, she continued getting dressed. The top button on her blouse was nowhere to be found, but she thought her robes would hide the loss well enough.
"This all sounds like a waste of our time. The arsehole belongs in Azkaban. I don't even understand why there's a debate."
"Oh, I don't know, Kingsley. He might have a point. He did complete his sentence. It's not exactly his fault that it wasn't a permanent state. No one could've ever guessed there might be a day when no more dementors existed and that that fact might actually release the souls they claimed."
If the scowl on his face and the narrowing of his eyes were any indication, Kingsley did not appreciate her statement. She didn't care. He couldn't expect her just to blindly agree with him on every little issue simply because of their over a decade long friendship and the fact they were intimately acquainted with how the other one looked naked. When he spoke again, there was a chill in his tone she wasn't used to hearing directed towards her.
"I'll distract Gemma long enough for you to sneak out. If you'll wait for me by the fireplaces, we can floo to St. Mungo's at the same time."
She did just as he asked. While he had his assistant digging in a drawer with her back turned towards his office, Hermione slipped out. The sounds of the party spilling from the Atrium proved the rest of the Ministry was still focused on the celebration. Walking right through the crowds to the fireplace exits was surprisingly simple. Kingsley was only a few steps behind her carrying the file he only claimed to need to keep Gemma occupied. Neither of them spoke before they entered their own fireplace nor when they arrived in the wizard hospital. She assumed he would need a few minutes to calm down.
The group of wizards waiting for their arrival was easy to spot. Hermione walked straight towards Blaise where he had his hands full of legal scrolls. Taking a couple from him, she started reading the laws that were currently valid regarding the Dementor's Kiss. As no one had been subjected to that awful punishment in over ten years at least, she wasn't terribly familiar with the details.
When she was halfway down the middle of the scroll, Blaise dropped a delicate lavender button on top of the parchment. Recognizing it at once, she tried to keep her facial expression as neutral as possible to look up at her fellow legal analyst. Blaise appeared ready to burst. The room felt suddenly quite warm.
"Found this on the floor of the Minister's office, love. Thought it looked familiar."
Trying and failing to suppress his grin, Blaise gestured to her lavender blouse where it was quite obvious she was missing a button. Hermione grit her teeth, put the button in her pocket, and thanked him. He smirked as he lowered his voice to a level only she could hear.
"Very impressive, Hermione. Looks like I was wrong about why the Minister has looked so tired lately. He does have a fit, young witch in his bed after all. Or was it on his desk? Was that why no one could find you? Were you hiding underneath it, you naughty witch?"
Hermione slapped him in his flat, annoyingly firm stomach with the back of her hand. His grunt of pain morphed into a soft chuckle. Not wanting to listen to another disgusting word he might have to say, she approached the rest of the group. To her relief, they were ready to head down into the basement.
Unsure what to expect when she saw Barty Crouch Jr. again, she wasn't exactly surprised to find him screaming at the small group of Healers already in his room. Never seeing him without being in his Alastor Moody disguise, she couldn't be sure if he looked the same or worse than he did twelve years earlier. His straw blond hair was streaked with a few grays, but no more so than any man his age. He hardly blinked as he yelled and demanded to be released. It was only when his eyes landed on the new arrivals, more specifically Hermione, that he calmed down and narrowed his eyes.
"I know you. Who are you?"
The very second her name came out of her mouth, Barty laughed. She couldn't stand the sound. It sent another chill up her spine.
"Fuck me, I have been here a long time. Little swotty Granger finally fills out her jumpers."
Right behind her Blaise snorted but tried to pass it off as a cough. Uncomfortable knowing the horrible man was looking, Hermione pulled her robes tighter around her in an effort to hide.
"It's a sin to cover a nice pair of tits like that."
Completely disgusted, Hermione didn't even think twice before she crossed the room to slap Barty hard across the face. Even with the red mark of her hand clearly visible on his pale cheek, he laughed.
"Don't want me to stare? Button up."
His eyes body looked down to where her robes revealed her top button-less shirt again. He didn't feel any shame about ogling. Tempted to hex him straight to the bollocks, she forced herself to walk away. Blaise coughed again drawing her ire. Her coworker seemed to find her glare funny.
"You will keep a civil tongue, Crouch."
The warning in Kingsley's voice didn't need to be uttered in words. Everyone present knew one more disgusting remark and the Minister wouldn't be kind. Hermione might've thought he was on his way to forgiving her if she didn't already know he'd say the same in defense of any other woman.
"One of these arseholes told me you were the Minister for Magic, Shacklebolt. Very impressive, but you always did want to be in everyone else's business, didn't you?"
Clearly there was a history between the two men Hermione was unaware of. Close in age, likely the issues were related to their time at Hogwarts. When Kingsley stopped being angry with her, she would ask for details.
"All I'm concerned about when it comes to you, Crouch, is how fast we can get you back in Azkaban."
"Ahh, but I've completed my sentence. You can't put me back in prison."
"That's why I brought the two best legal analysts the Ministry has ever had. They will find a law we need to make sure you rot in Azkaban."
"Excellent. I'll be interested to read the law that states a prisoner sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss must be returned to complete a life sentence in Azkaban if they somehow recover from their soul being sucked outside of their body."
Hermione's stomach sank when Kingsley and the rest of the group looked in hers and Blaise's direction for help. Their expectations were clear. There had to be some sort of loophole. A silent conversation passed with Blaise. He didn't know either. Always a Slytherin, sly and cunning and looking out only for himself, Blaise pushed the responsibility solely into Hermione's hands.
"I've been unable to find any loophole or law that would force him back into Azkaban, Minister Shacklebolt, but Hermione is much more experienced and intelligent than I am. I'm sure she knows more than I do."
Her earlier desire to hex Barty transferred to Blaise. He could be such a bloody coward when it suited him. Far from being the first time he pled ignorance and deferred a problem to her in three years, he had a habit of doing so. It always annoyed her, but not like that day.
There was no answer she could provide the expectant wizards staring in her direction that would make everyone happy. Unfortunately, Barty wasn't an idiot and he had a very valid point. If one were to take emotions entirely out of the equation, they would come to the conclusion that there was nothing that could put him back in Azkaban. Not unless he committed another crime or they uncovered an archaic law none of them had ever heard of. She could feel Kingsley's stare more than the others. He seemed to be pleading silently with her to be on his side.
"If there is a law that would remand a recipient of the Dementor's Kiss back to Azkaban in care of failure, it's not one I've ever heard of. I would need to do more research."
Kingsley's shoulders visibly dropped. He clenched his jaw and seemed on the edge of losing his temper. Maybe he wouldn't come right out and ask her to lie that there was a law they could use to their benefit, but she knew he would prefer she do whatever was necessary. It wasn't the most Gryffindor of requests. Of course, no one was noble all of the time. Hermione could not in good conscience lie on that particular issue.
"Looks like I'm free to go. If you gents will excuse me, I'd like to leave."
"No, Crouch, you are not free to go. I will grant you a temporary pardon while your case is reviewed."
Frustrated she didn't take his side, Kingsley turned his gaze from Barty to Hermione. She didn't know how she knew she wasn't going to like what he said next, but she did.
"Until you can find a legal loophole or a new law entirely that will put Crouch back in Azkaban where he belongs, he's your problem, Miss Granger. While he is on parole, he is your responsibility. Azkaban not good enough for him? He can live in your house."
Completely in shock, she couldn't think of a suitable response before Kingsley spun on his heel and exited the room in a flurry of dark robes. The Chief Warlock and the Head of St. Mungo's followed. A chuckling Blaise wasn't far behind. Only the Healers and the Head of the DMLE remained.
"I will have an auror to your home within the hour to fit a tracking device on Crouch, Miss Granger."
He left the room too. It was only then that she realized Barty crossed the room to stand next to her with a delighted smile on his face.
"Do you have more than one bed or are we going to have to share?"
Disgust roiled in the pit of her stomach. She wasn't sure she would ever be able to forgive Kingsley.
