Harry Potter belongs to JKR
Chapter 50
Hermione held the coffee cup in both hands to warm her fingers as she blew across the top. Little red and orange sparkles flittered off the foam. Why Harry had insisted on meeting at the Ministry she had no clue. Passing wizards and witches sent a few unfriendly stares in her direction, or perhaps it was only her imagination… though it was certainly only a matter of time before the press showed up with their annoying shouted questions and flash photos.
She frowned.
"Sorry," Harry said as he sat down, "was caught up in something. New robes?"
"Caught up in something, did you start early today?" Hermione asked, "and yes, thank you."
He nodded.
"And I have to get back, but I wanted to let you know I gave your address to Ginny. She's going to be in town for an away match and may stop by the hotel and leave you a message," he said.
Hermione smiled.
"Oh, that would be lovely. Percy is going to be with us too, I'm sure he'll be happy to see her as well," Hermione said.
"Right, that's what I was thinking," he said, and then he cleared his throat.
Hermione took a sip of coffee as Harry looked away for a second or two.
"Also," he said, "if there's anything you need me to do, while you're away, you know you only have to ask, right?"
Hermione smiled. What was he trying to tell her?
"Of course," she said, and then a thought occurred to her, "actually, if you could check on Bellatrix from time to time… she's all alone, and you know how that could go."
Harry smiled with relief and nodded; she'd guessed correctly.
"Yeah, that's what concerns me," he said, and he looked like he wanted to say more, then he shook his head, "anyway, I'll stop by your house later today. I've got to go. I'm only supposed to be on a loo break."
He stood up and straightened his robes.
"You'd better head off too, don't miss your portkey," he said. She stood up and they embraced, though not fully as Hermione carefully kept her coffee balanced to avoid spilling.
"Go go, I'll be fine," she said as they stepped back.
"If there's any emergency, I'll send you a patronus," he said as he walked backwards a few steps.
"Likewise," she said, "See you soon!"
Then he was off, trotting back towards the Atrium. Hermione brought her coffee with her to drink on the way to the portkey room and tossed it into a rubbish bin on the way. The receptacle gave off a soft belch and a clunk as it accepted the empty cup. Having travelled by international portkey a few times before, she was familiar with the route, and up ahead she spotted Minister Winthrop, Macmillan, Percy and…
"Oh Merlin," as she saw blonde Daisy Vane nodding and taking notes as Winthrop spoke.
Macmillan was the new Head of International Cooperation, and Percy was the former Interim Head, so the two of them made sense, but why was Vane here? Macmillan saw her first and waved her over.
"Good morning, Miss Granger," Ernie's father said as he smiled warmly and shook her hand.
"Good morning, Mr. Macmillan," she said as she matched his firm grip.
"Please, call me Angus," he said, "Ernie sends his regards."
Daisy's eyes flicked over to them for a split second, and Hermione smiled.
"Tell Ernie I said hello, and you can call me Hermione, it's fine," she said, "hi Percy."
"Hermione, good to see you again," he said in a very proper, official tone.
"The moustache definitely makes him look older, and quite suits him," Hermione thought.
"That should be all, Miss Vane," Winthrop said, "I leave the Office and the event planning in your capable hands. Please floo the hotel if there is a national emergency; they will know how to contact me."
"Thank you sir, you can count on me," Vane said as she dipped into a small curtsey. She gave Hermione a smirk in passing as she walked back towards the Atrium.
"Right," Winthrop said, "welcome, Miss Granger, we haven't a moment to spare; I assume everyone is familiar, yes? Good, this way."
He led them to one of the international portkey rooms, and they arrived at the thirty second warning. A simple metal coat hanger sat on the stone plinth, and Winthrop picked up the hook and held it out for the others to grab hold. Hermione gripped the end, the lights flashed, and then she was sucked backwards through the navel by the international portkey. They appeared in a very similar looking room, and an announcement in French followed them as they filed out of the door and into the Ministry proper. The smell of freshly baked bread had Hermione's head looking this way and that for the source, but Winthrop did not break stride as he strode across chequerboard floors to the public floo.
"Jardins Impériaux," he said, and vanished in green flame.
Macmillan went next, followed by Percy and Hermione last. She appeared into a brightly lit, high-ceilinged, cavernous lobby. Three massive crystal chandeliers cast soft, diffuse light across the entire space, and wood panelling on the walls waved and rippled like water in a breeze. Several large pillars supported the ceiling, and the off-white floor tiles appeared to be some kind of stone, possibly granite, polished to a reflective shine. A row of blue-uniformed hotel staff, reminiscent of airlines flight attendants, manned the check-in counters and concierge to their left, and a trio of wooden doors to their right stood closed; Hermione guessed they led to various exits in muggle Paris. Behind the check-in counters, a floor to ceiling glass wall looked into what appeared to be an aviary, as tree trunks dominated the view and a multicoloured bird took flight and glided from one branch to another. Several wizards and witches, some European, and some obviously from farther abroad, conversed quietly with one another in the lobby, or in front of the concierge. A few house elves pushed carts of luggage across the floor or busied themselves with trimming the numerous potted plants lining the edges of the room.
Macmillan and Winthrop had already walked off towards the check in counters, but Percy remained, waiting for her, and she sent him a questioning look.
"Winthrop is the Minister, and Macmillan is part of his cabinet and a Wizengamot member," Percy said, "their offices would have booked the rooms reserved for foreign dignitaries."
Hermione nodded, and Percy glanced around the lobby and frowned.
"What is it?" she asked.
"I was only the interim Head of International Magical Cooperation," Percy said, "now that Macmillan has taken the position, this will likely be my last assignment, and I haven't secured another role yet."
"Macmillan won't keep you on?" Hermione asked.
"He has his own staff to assist him," Percy replied.
Hermione frowned.
"But you were Head Boy. Surely one of the other departments…" she said.
"Times are tough for everyone," Percy said as he put his hands in his pockets, then he seemed to shake himself out of the doldrums, "eh, don't worry about me, I'll land on my feet. Worst case, I can always work with George at the shop."
Percy gave her a cross between a smirk and a grin, and Hermione wasn't sure if he was joking or not. She was about to resort to asking about Penelope to change the subject, but the return of Winthrop and Macmillan rescued her.
"We're on levels four and five," Winthrop said. He handed a large iron key to Hermione and Percy each.
"Why don't we settle in first and then meet on level seven," Winthrop said.
They piled into a lift and an old-fashioned grate slid shut to keep them from falling out. A house elf stood on a stool to operate the lever which controlled the lift. The machinery groaned and shuddered and the smell of grease filled the air as it ascended past level two, where a restaurant beckoned, and a hallway at level three. The grate opened with a shudder and a series of clanks.
"Level four," the elf said. Hermione and Percy stepped out of the lift, and she had to blink a few times. It felt like she'd walked into a carnival funhouse; the hallway was not straight at all, not even the wooden floors or white ceilings. It twisted and dipped; even the paintings and doors were not perfectly rectangular. Most unsettlingly, it apparently extended to infinity. Candelabras hung on the walls at regular intervals, giving off a dim glow. Percy didn't seem fazed at all, and he started walking as the lift doors rattled shut again. Hermione glanced down at her key: 405, and followed the older Weasley.
"Right, this is me," Percy said, "see you on seven."
Hermione nodded and continued on. She struggled to keep her balance on the uneven floor, until she stopped outside her room. After turning the large key in the lock, she pushed inside.
"Thank Merlin, it's normal," she thought, "though, for a dignitary's suite, this is a bit simple. Perhaps the better rooms are on level five."
A loo resided through a door to her right, a closet with mirrors for sliding doors to her left, and a large bed and a single desk in the room proper. Parchment, a quill, and an inkwell sat on the desk, and Hermione noted forms for room service. She threw the blinds open and her eyes widened. Outside the large windows, massive trees spanned the entire view, and the movement of the curtains startled a bright blue bird, which took wing and flew away. She looked down and saw windows both below and above; the hotel twisted around the central aviary. As she looked closer, she saw faeries and pixies mixed in with the birds.
"Incredible," she thought, "don't get distracted though, it wouldn't be good to keep the Minister waiting."
Hermione pulled two more sets of dress robes from her pouch, one of royal blue and the other the set she wore for Bella's trial, and hung them up in the closet. She looked around the bathroom, unloaded her toiletries, gave the room a once-over, nodded to herself, then exited and locked the door. On her way back to the lift, rhythmic squeaks heralded the arrival of a cleaning cart operated by a pair of house elves moving in the opposite direction. One sat in the rear, pumping what looked like bicycle pedals, while the stood on top of the a platform that rose and fell, and used a feather duster affixed to an extended handle to reach the corners.
Hermione left the odd sight behind and took the rickety lift to level seven, where the doors opened to plush carpeting. The logo of the hotel, a trident with a gold star at each point, stood behind a reception counter occupied by an attractive young blonde witch. She spoke a few words in French starting with 'Bienvenue' but that was all Hermione was able to catch.
"Sorry, speak English?" she asked.
"Of course, welcome to the VIP lounge," she said with a slight French lilt, no more than Fleur's, "your name please?"
"Hermione Granger," she replied.
The witch scanned through a list and motioned for Hermione to proceed through glass double doors to her left. They automatically opened as she approached, and she stepped into what could have been a muggle executive lounge. Thick blue carpeting muffled all sounds, and the entire rear wall consisted of a floor-to-ceiling window looking out into the aviary. Several groups of tables and chairs sat spaced at irregular intervals. The sound of clattering plates and smell freshly baked bread issued from a café to her right, complete with several house elves working the kitchen, counter, and hovering plates to guests. To her left, a row of dark wooden doors with frosted glass windows stood, some lit and some still dark.
"Multi-purpose meeting rooms, most likely," she thought.
Percy sat alone at a low table pressed up against the rear window, and he stared out into the aviary while sipping his coffee. He appeared deep in thought, and didn't even acknowledge her as she made her way over to him.
"Penny for your thoughts?" she asked as she sat opposite and crossed her legs.
"Was thinking about the Being outreach program…" Percy said, "do you feel it's a bit odd the Minister suddenly decided to push so hard for inclusion and outreach?"
He set his coffee on the low table as Hermione's eyebrows came together.
"Not at all, Professor Winthrop was an outspoken advocate for Beings, even when he was still teaching," Hermione replied.
Percy nodded slowly.
"Yes, additional rights are well overdue, but the outreach has caused some issues," he said, "it would be one thing if they came with a comparable increase in obliviation budget, but that seems to be an oversight; not many know this, but the department is stretched extremely thin."
He leaned forward and dropped his voice.
"I suspect part of the reason for this trip is to placate the ICW," Percy said.
"Hmm. As long as they can keep up, I'm sure it's worth it," Hermione said, "after all, if we want to have better relations with goblins and veela and all the rest, a little bit of outreach could go a long way."
"Odd, where did that come from?" Hermione thought, then she pushed the thought away, "ah, I'm sure the Minister knows what he's doing."
Percy didn't look convinced, but rather than voice his concern, he fell back into silent brooding. Hermione's self-reflection was interrupted as Winthrop entered the lounge and motioned for them to follow him to one of the meeting rooms. Hermione smiled her thanks as Percy held the door for her, and she entered into a brightly lit room containing a light brown conference table and several high-backed seats set around it. An odd-looking contraption sat at the centre of the table; it looked like one long parchment stretched across a frame, with a quill set on one side, and two rolls of parchment beneath it, like a cassette player. She quickly realised it was for recording the meetings which took place in the room. The Minister took a seat at the head of the table and Hermione sat adjacent to him.
"No need to put unnecessary distance between us," she thought.
"Will Macmillan be joining?" Percy asked.
"He's meeting with his French counterpart now, we'll join them later," Winthrop said.
Percy shut the door and sat opposite Hermione. He reached out towards the contraption, but Winthrop shook his head, and Percy nodded.
"Right, handover of International Cooperation duties aside, you're probably wondering why I've asked the two of you to join us on this trip," Winthrop said, "the short answer is there is an initiative I'm looking to start at the Ministry back home, and I need two talented junior undersecretaries to drive it."
Hermione's eyes flicked to Percy's for a split-second, then refocused on the Minister for Magic.
"Mr. Weasley, I read through the research on goblins you put together for Minister Shacklebolt, and it was exemplary," Winthrop said.
"Thank you, sir," Percy said.
"And Miss Granger, I am well acquainted with your work and dedication," Winthrop said.
Hermione smiled at the praise.
"As I'm sure you may have noticed, inefficiency at the Ministry of Magic is endemic," Winthrop said, "I plan to initiate a top to bottom review of all department procedures, as well as their interactions with one another, with a focus on paperwork and approvals. We're going to eliminate the waste and streamline everything."
"What?" Hermione thought, and she coughed politely.
"Err, if I understand correctly, will that not result in a great deal of job cuts?" Hermione asked, then cleared her throat, "Minister."
Winthrop nodded.
"Roles will be eliminated, yes, but if events unfold as planned, the funds we save by reducing Ministry payroll will be repurposed into training programs. It is better, after all, to have wizards and witches producing work of value, rather than subsisting off wasteful Ministry employment," Winthrop said, "employment, I might add, which is funded by taxes levied on actual productive work."
Hermione found herself nodding.
"It makes perfect sense," she thought.
From her own experience and conversations with Harry and Ron, she knew the Ministry was horribly inefficient. Percy looked flabbergasted for a moment, then composed himself.
"Thank you sir, for the vote of confidence and the offer of this amazing opportunity," he said, "I do have one question though, why bring us to Paris to inform us?"
"A few reasons," Winthrop replied, "I want Miss Granger to see how we interact with the French Ministry and the ICW, and when you are not occupied with meetings with Macmillan, I want the two of you to get started on a plan of attack, with the goal of being ready to start executing upon our return to London. With all of us in Paris together, there will be fewer distractions, and you will have easier access to me, for review and suggestions."
"And nobody in the Ministry will have any clue what is going on until the appointments are announced, and the real work is ready to begin," she thought.
"Is Macmillan aware?" Hermione asked, and Winthrop smiled.
"Not yet," he replied with a wink, "I would appreciate keeping this to yourselves until the official announcements are made."
Bubbles flitted up through her chest and she struggled to avoid breaking into a wide grin. This was a huge opportunity. If she and Percy were successful, not only would they significantly advance their careers by simultaneously working to improve efficiency at the Ministry as well as the overall economic situation of Wizarding Britain, they would also gain intimate knowledge of every department in the Ministry, their key players, and how they interacted with one another.
"Well, I um… thank you for the wonderful offer…" she said as a smile snuck through. She was about to ask when they would start, but another thought sprung to the fore.
"One question, would this include review of procedures at St. Mungo's?" Hermione asked.
Winthrop paused for a split-second.
"That will be arranged," he replied, "no one will be able to stand in the way of quicker approvals for promising treatments, not when our goal is to help as many people as possible."
Hermione nodded. She knew Winthrop had been at least tangentially aware of the difficulties she'd had in getting the obliviation cure through the Council of Master Healers, and this was confirmation that he was on her side, that he would help her. She gave up trying to contain her grin as she looked at Percy, and he nodded his agreement.
"When do we start?" he asked.
"Right now," Winthrop replied, "I have booked this room for the remainder of our stay in Paris."
He opened a pouch and produced several reams of parchment, and Hermione's eyes widened.
"These are the existing process guidelines for every department in the Ministry of Magic," he said as the bundles stacked up on the table, "I should be able to stop in several times each day, but if you need me, my room is 507."
He paused.
"You have a few hours until the first meeting with the French trade ministers; I suggest starting with the DMLE," he said as he gestured to one of the stacks, "every minute an Auror spends on paperwork is a minute they're not out stopping dark wizards."
Winthrop left them for his appointment with the French Ministry, and Hermione and Percy got to work. They started by sorting and stacking and creating a plan by which they intended to go through each of the departments, in turn, and then compile a dossier of their findings. They'd only just completed their first itemised list when it was time for their first meeting, which turned out to be with select business owners and members of the French Wizengamot. Hermione noted Percy bringing several sheaves of blank parchment with him, and she did the same. What followed was simultaneously one of the most enlightening and boring experiences of her life as the witches and wizards present debated about the removal of tariffs to increase trade between Britain and France. It was clear this group had already met several times, and while Winthrop, Macmillan, and even Percy had some input given his previous experience as interim Head of Magical Cooperation, Hermione decided to keep her mouth shut and take copious notes.
As they ate lunch in the hotel restaurant on level two, Winthrop glanced to Hermione.
"What did you think of today's meeting?" he asked.
Hermione chewed slowly to give herself a few extra seconds to respond.
"Well… while I think it would be beneficial to be able to trade more overall, some people would certainly be disadvantaged… I think it's important to ensure that whatever agreement is put in place has provisions to ensure the benefits are shared," she said.
Winthrop smiled.
"You see, one meeting, and she gets it," he said to Macmillan.
The Wizengamot member made a gesture as if to say 'of course'.
"I maintain there are internal politics on their side we're unaware of," Macmillan said.
Winthrop made a dismissive gesture.
"Be that as it may, it's going to be up to you and your team to figure this out and bring a substantive trade proposal to the table," he said, "one we can actually pass."
"We'll keep at it," Macmillan said.
They finished lunch, and Percy was pulled by Macmillan into a meeting with Veela representatives, while Winthrop excused himself. That left Hermione to work on the processes alone, but she decided to check the front desk first.
Hermione,
We're staying at the same hotel! Dinner tonight? They have a buffet on level two.
~Ginny
Hermione scribbled an affirmative response, then returned to the conference room. She spent most of the afternoon going through all of the DMLE processes and finished well ahead of dinner.
"It really is a mess. I could start the next department… but it's probably better to run through these with Percy first," she thought.
That left her with a few hours before she was due to meet Ginny. Her desire to continue working warred with her desire to take a look around outside.
"You wanted to have some time alone to clear your head, remember?" she thought.
She left a note for Percy to review the findings she'd taken down on the DMLE, then returned to her room to change into muggle clothing. In the lobby, the concierge informed her that each of the three doors opposite the check-in counters exited to a different location in the city. She picked the one near Bastille and pushed into a closed patisserie, and then onto the streets of Paris. The afternoon sun slanted at a steep angle, illuminating the tops of buildings. Crisp autumn air made for pleasant strolling, and Hermione's boots clicked on the stone paths. Her steps took her to the river, where she turned right, more or less towards the Eiffel Tower far in the distance. Parisians passed by, families out for dinner, muggles on their way home from work, and Hermione walked, and thought, as she crisscrossed the stone bridges arching across the river Seine as night slowly fell and the lights switched on.
"The most romantic city in the world, and you're alone," she thought, "Well, not really alone, just unsure of what to do."
Living and working with Bellatrix for the past several weeks had been extremely trying, and confusing. She sounded like Julia, she acted like Julia, but she looked like Bella; Hermione could feel the glances, sometimes outright stares, and most days, it was all she could do to avoid reciprocating. Beyond that, after seeing what she'd been through in Azkaban, Hermione desperately wanted to reach out and hold her and whisper to her that it would be okay, but she'd avoided that as well for fear of what it might lead to, and due to the sneaking suspicion that that was exactly what Bellatrix didn't want.
"It's a bloody miracle I didn't stuff up the orichalcum," she thought as she considered how distracted she had been.
Then there were the evenings. In the privacy of her room with the door locked, she could indulge in fantasies of her own creation, of a peaceful life, one they could share together, out in the open, accepted by her friends. Often, knowing she would be able to retreat to her sanctuary was the only reason she'd made it through the day. Sometimes she'd wondered what would have happened if Bella had made the trek down the hallway to her room in the middle of the night, but that never happened, not once.
"You did it though, you managed to stick to your word," she thought, "all except one slip when we purified the gold reagent."
That had been foolish. Afterwards, Hermione had come to the conclusion that forming an opinion on how she truly felt about Bellatrix Black would be impossible so long as they were in such close proximity. Unrealistic fantasies aside, the vision Hermione had for her future life certainly did not include her. At least, it hadn't.
She passed a young French couple wearing chic overcoats, hands clasped tightly as they chatted and laughed, and her forlorn heart ached.
"Being here isn't helping… I miss her more," she thought.
The City of Lights lived up to its name as she approached Notre Dame cathedral from across the river, but as she continued her solitary stroll, it slowly dawned on her that she desperately wanted someone to share it with.
"But do you want her? Or are you simply lonely?" she thought, "can you trust her?"
It was a difficult line of thought.
"It wouldn't end well," she thought as she approached the bridge. Locks of all shapes and sizes had been clipped to the railing, left by lovers from around the world. A vision of her finger brushing against Bella's as they clipped one on came to her, and she shook her head.
She hunched her shoulders and crossed the bridge without looking at any more of the locks, and made her way beneath the carved stone entry way, into the quiet of the cathedral. Dimly lit by scores of glowing candles from within and electric lights from outside, the reliefs, stained glass, and high ceilings induced a sense of awe at the accomplishment of however many artisans and labourers that had brought it into existence. She'd never thought of herself as an especially religious person, but standing in the hushed silence of one of the most famous cathedrals in the world, she couldn't help but feel some kind of comfort. Internally though, a fierce battle raged as she found the exact centre of the building and stared towards the altar and the cross behind it.
"What am I supposed to do?" she asked quietly. Of course, there was no answer.
"Be pragmatic, or throw caution to the wind?" she thought. On the one hand, she knew it would be difficult to try and form a proper relationship with Bella. Aside from the obvious, that she'd lied for months and slept with her when she knew it would devastate Hermione if she ever found out, she was clearly traumatised by Azkaban, and what Clark had done.
"That's not her fault though, you can't hold it against her," she thought.
On top of that, there were the practical considerations… Bellatrix was hated by a large majority of Wizarding Britain, not to mention several of Hermione's close friends, and for good reason. Would Hermione be forced to choose? Would she also be hated by association?
"That's not her fault either though!" she thought, "plus, how many purebloods just… went along with what others around them thought because they were afraid of the consequences or didn't want to rock the boat? What kind of person are you if you let others' opinions affect whether you'll accept someone into your life or not?"
She walked around the perimeter and stopped at each of the statues set at regular intervals in alcoves along the walls. Tears came to her eyes, but she wiped them away rather than let them fall.
"But do you fancy her? Not just Julia, but do you fancy Bellatrix Black?" she thought.
Another ten minutes of wandering around the interior of Notre Dame did nothing to illuminate her feelings on the matter.
"You don't have to decide now," she thought as she started walking towards the exit, "you still have a few days."
She crossed the threshold into the noticeably cooler night, lights shining on the tourist spots, and the Eiffel Tower lit up in the distance.
"If she were with me, we would hold hands, right now," she thought.
She rubbed her hands together and laced her fingers, a poor simulacrum of what it felt to hold Julia's hand, then shoved them into her pockets as she made her way back to the hotel to meet Ginny.
She arrived at the restaurant on level two, and the buffet had been reconfigured for dinner. She spotted Ginny and Percy from the door, and Ginny waved her over. The redhead looked excited, practically humming with energy.
"Alright, she's here. Now what is this incredible gossip that has you vibrating in your seat?" Percy asked as Hermione sat and unfolded her serviette.
"Okay, I met up with Bill and Fleur earlier today," she said and paused for dramatic effect, "Fleur is pregnant!"
Percy sat back in his chair. Clearly, he hadn't been expecting that.
"Really," he said.
"Yeah! We're going to have a niece or nephew!" Ginny said.
"Congratulations," Hermione said with a smile.
"I know! Don't tell anyone yet though, they're going to floo mum and dad this weekend," Ginny said with a huge smile on her face.
"Wow…. Wow, I did not expect it so soon," Percy said.
Over dinner, she and Percy caught up with Ginny, who was travelling with the Hollywood Harpies on a road trip for several matches across France and Germany.
"If I'm lucky, I may be able to start a match or two this season," she said.
Hermione nodded and smiled at the right points, but truly, her mind was elsewhere, if not on the task Winthrop had set for them, then on the coming meeting with Bellatrix awaiting her in London.
After dinner, Hermione declined to indulge in dessert and retired to her room while Percy and Ginny continued chatting. After showering and changing into her purple nightgown, she read a little bit, and when her eyes started to droop, she switched off the lights and lay on her back in the darkness. She knew she should be happy; it wasn't every day the Minister of Magic personally offered you the opportunity of a lifetime, but with the Bella question hanging over her, all she could manage was a sense of trepidation. She hugged her pillow and closed her eyes, to perhaps dream about Julia White in the safety of her mind.
The following morning saw Hermione reunite with Percy and the two of them continued on with the task Winthrop had set for them, pushing through Ministry departments one by one. Hermione continued to try and gauge whether she would be able to move on from Bellatrix, but by breakfast on the third day, she was no closer. When she checked the front desk though, another message awaited her:
Hermione, I am here for match, and learn you are staying at this hotel. I delay my portkey. Buy you lunch in Paris? Meet you in lobby.
~Viktor
"That's a surprise," Hermione thought, "it would be good to catch up though, as friends."
So, a few hours later, Hermione again changed into muggle clothing and arrived in the lobby to find Viktor waiting for her, smartly dressed in a red shirt and dark blazer and slacks. She smiled as he spotted her. She opened her arms wide to give him a brief hug, his goatee prickly against her cheek.
"Viktor, it's good to see you," she said, "how did you know I was here?"
"Ginny Weasley," Viktor replied.
"Of course," Hermione thought.
She laughed.
"I should have known," she said.
"Come, there is restaurant near Louvre, it is a good walk, and we can talk," Viktor said as he motioned to the door.
"His English has improved," Hermione thought.
He let her exit first and followed behind, then offered his arm to lead her along the river. Even through the blazer, the professional athlete's muscles felt stronger than mere flesh.
"I am sorry I did not write. It is very busy," Viktor said.
"That's alright, my life hasn't exactly been simple either," she said.
"Yes, even though I do not send letters, I follow you in news," he said.
"Oh…" Hermione said.
Hermione glanced to her right as they passed by Notre Dame. At this time of day, a long queue of tourists lined up to enter.
"It is not good, the newspapers and the people say many unkind things," Viktor said.
"Half of that isn't even real people, you know," Hermione said.
"It is still not good," Viktor said, "If you visit Bulgaria, it will be different. Everyone still calls you hero there, and if you are with me, they will love you even more."
"Oh, I see," Hermione said as she felt heat rise to her cheeks, "for a visit? Or.."
"As long as you like," Viktor said, "you are special lady, and I have known you for a long time. We could make a good match, I think."
Her thoughts whirled as the full implications of what Viktor Krum had just said found the correct slot in her brain to settle in.
"It would be so easy," she thought, "let Viktor take the lead, whisk you off to Bulgaria…"
It would mean leaving her home country and her friends behind though, and the opportunity from Winthrop. Leaving Bella.
"Plus he's a pro quidditch player. Moving to Bulgaria and starting a relationship with Viktor would, by default, be long-distance for a good portion of the year… again," she thought.
"I appreciate the… offer, Viktor, really I do," she said, "but it's not meant to be, at least… not right now. I've just received an amazing career opportunity, working with the Minister's office."
Viktor nodded.
"Congratulations, you will be great," he said, "my home is open to you if you like, come for holiday. I can show you around my country."
"Maybe one day," she said.
She smiled, and if Viktor's feelings were hurt at all, he didn't show it except for a small frown of concentration, as if he were deep in thought. They strolled on, following the river until they reached the large stone courtyard in front of the Louvre. Tourists snapped photos and beggars hoping for spare change milled about the open space near the famous glass pyramid. Viktor led her up to a nearby restaurant on the second story. They passed through the dimly lit interior to a spot on a sun-soaked balcony overlooking the Louvre entrance. Hermione glanced through the menu, pointed to what she wanted, cod and mussels. Viktor ordered steak frites and added a glass of red for himself and a white for her, and they settled in. Hermione leaned an arm on the stone balcony and people watched for a moment.
"You will be working with Frances Winthrop?" Viktor asked.
Hermione turned to face him again and his eyes bore into hers.
"Yes. You've heard of him?" she asked.
Viktor nodded.
"You agree with his views?" he asked.
Hermione tilted her head questioningly.
"Of course, why wouldn't I?" she asked with a smile.
"All his views?" he asked.
Hermione was about to reply in the affirmative, but their food chose that moment to arrive, and they both tucked in. For a tourist trap restaurant, the meal was surprisingly savoury, and Hermione relaxed a little bit. They chatted about her friends, what they'd been up to for the past year. She told him she'd restored her parents' memories, and Viktor shared a few stories of the shenanigans he and his teammates got into during a few away games the previous year. As she worked her way into the second half of her glass though, the wine gave her a little added courage, and the chagrin she felt at Viktor grilling her about her new employer's political stances grated.
"Did I miss something? Is Viktor somehow against additional Being rights?" she thought.
"Why did you want to know about Winthrop's political positions?" she asked.
Viktor blinked at the sudden shift in conversation, and he narrowed his eyes slightly.
"Before he became Minister, he met with my father, in Sofia," Viktor said, "my father is influential with some members of ICW. Winthrop wanted to know if under any circumstance my father would support repeal of Statute."
"Statute… of Secrecy?" Hermione asked.
Viktor nodded, and her eyebrows came together.
"Repeal of the Statute isn't part of his agenda though," she said, "… what did your father say?"
"He said no, of course," Viktor replied with a laugh.
"Of course," Hermione repeated, "did Winthrop seem… disappointed, or upset?"
Viktor shrugged his shoulders and turned his palms up.
"I do not know, I was at off season training camp," he said, "my father told me later."
Hermione used her fork to stir patterns in the leftover sauce on her plate as she mused.
"Maybe speak to him, see for yourself?" Viktor said, "I do not wish to make you unhappy, I only tell you because I like you. And because you are good, and we are good friends, yes?"
Hermione smiled at that.
"Yes, of course we are," she said.
"Good," he said, "my portkey is soon, we can walk back to hotel."
He raised a hand.
"L'addition s'il vous plait," he said.
"D'accord," the waiter replied with a slight bow.
"I didn't know you spoke French," Hermione said quietly.
Viktor held up two fingers.
"I can ask for bill, and ask for beer and wine," he replied with a laugh.
She let him pay for the meal, then they strolled back to the hotel together.
"Good luck with new position," he said, "talk to your boss."
"I will. And best of luck on the pitch this year," she said.
"I am Viktor Krum. I do not need luck," he replied with a grin and a wink, then he was gone through the floo to the French Ministry.
Mind whirling, Hermione returned to the seventh floor to meet up with Percy again and continue working through the Ministry departments, but she found she had difficulty focusing. Her lunch with Viktor replayed in her head, especially what he'd said regarding Winthrop inquiring about repealing the Statute of Secrecy. All through dinner, she couldn't focus, barely ate, and then it was time to turn in again. She took a hot shower, contemplated soaking in the bath, then decided to do a little bit of light reading. She still hadn't gotten all the way through the law books she'd noted down earlier in the year, but as she lay on the bed in the hotel provided bath robe, she found, more often than not, her eyes glazed over the words without digesting any real meaning. With a heavy sigh and a creak of leather, she closed the book and rolled onto her back to stare at the ceiling.
Viktor's offer had been tempting, and if their lunch was any indication, it would have been so easy to let him take her away to Bulgaria, where she was apparently still well loved.
The ease of it was exactly the issue though; the entire date, if it could even be called that, had been easy. It was easy to let him pick where to eat, easy to let him lead the conversation, and oh so easy to make the pragmatic voice and decline Viktor Krum's offer. The contrast against the emotional contortions she was going through with Bella was like morning and night; the struggle of defining who she wanted to be and what she wanted for her life, rather than what others expected, spoke volumes to her in the quiet of French hotel room.
"And that's the difference," Hermione thought, "the fact that I'm having to struggle so hard to let go, to remove myself from feeling close to her… that can't mean nothing."
She rolled over to her stomach, put her forehead against the back of her hands, and stared down at the hotel duvet.
"But she's Bellatrix Black," she thought, "you'd be giving up at least some of your friends. And let's not forget she lied her way into your bed."
She squeezed her eyes shut.
"But she saved your life, twice," her brain thought back at her, "and she helped bring mum and dad back. And you know she's in love with you, or at least she thinks she is."
With her thoughts whirling as they were, she couldn't lay still anymore. She stood up, retied her robe, and started pacing back and forth by the foot of the bed.
"You don't have to jump all the way back in. You could try a reset," she thought as she gestured to herself with one hand, "keep it a secret at first, take it slow, perhaps use a glamour and go on a proper date or three… start over and build a new relationship based on honesty and trust."
At the risk of pushing the day of reckoning farther down the road, it seemed like the best of both worlds. Hermione nodded to herself as she thought it through again. Then she changed into her nightgown, switched off the light, and tried to sleep. As she tossed and turned in the darkness though, bits of the conversation with Viktor kept replaying in her head.
"Is Winthrop really interested in repealing the Statute?" she thought. The repercussions would be immense. After a good twenty minutes of changing positions, on her side, on her back, covers pulled up to her chin or thrown halfway off, she sat up again. The clock on the bedside table read just after eleven.
"Still well before midnight," she thought.
She threw a plain work robe on over her nightgown and slipped on the hotel provided slippers, then made her way down the twisted hallway. The hard floor of the lift stole the warmth from the soles of her feet through the bottoms of the thin slippers; they were probably simple conjurations and would vanish not long after checkout.
"This is a bit odd, but he did provide his room number.. I'll listen in first to hear if he's still awake," she thought as she padded down the twisted hallway.
She stopped outside 507 and held her breath… and heard a muffled voice from within. Resisting the urge to eavesdrop, she tapped lightly on the door, and there was a small rustle, followed by the door opening a crack.
"Miss Granger?" Winthrop asked. He was still dressed and the room was brightly lit; it wasn't too late for a chat.
"Sorry for interrupting… but I couldn't sleep and I was hoping to talk about something… I heard today," she said.
She knew she was pushing her luck, but Winthrop had favoured her before and she felt that should be worth something.
"Were you meeting someone?" she asked as she peered into the room.
"Ah no, it was a… floo call," he replied as he glanced over his shoulder, "actually that's not true, I was talking to myself… Geniuses often do that, didn't you know?"
He sent her a sheepish grin and held her gaze for a moment, and she felt a light brush at the front of her thoughts.
"He's probably using legilimency to determine if this is some kind of trap," she thought.
"Is it serious, this chat?" he asked.
"Fairly so. It has to do with your stance on," she said, then she leaned forward and lowered her voice to a whisper, "the Statute of Secrecy."
She caught a tiny quirk of his lips, almost imperceptible, like he quashed another smile.
"Let us speak, but not here. It's not appropriate for you to enter my room, and eyes are everywhere," he said, "I'll just be a moment."
He closed the door and she heard some more rustling, and then the door reopened and Winthrop emerged and locked the it behind him. He led her to the lift, which they took up to level seven. At this hour, the lounge reception was deserted, and unheated evening air of the VIP lounge chilled Hermione's naked ankles as she followed in the Minister's wake. Winthrop strode with purpose, wordlessly opening the double doors with a casual wave of his wand. Darkness shrouded both the open seating area and the aviary, until he lit his wand to help them find their way to the reserved meeting room. Towers of parchment stacked tall, like the skyline of a miniature city; she and Percy still had a ways to go. Winthrop sat first, and Hermione closed the door and sat across from him as he cast a few privacy charms.
"We shouldn't be observed here… and if we are, I'll tell them I'm the British Minister for Magic," he said with a grin, "let's hear it now, what's your concern?"
Hermione took a deep breath.
"I met with a friend today, who mentioned you lobbied someone close to the ICW for repeal of the Statute of Secrecy," she said, then continued when Winthrop said nothing, "is it true?"
"I'm afraid it is," Winthrop replied slowly.
Hermione shuddered as a breath escaped her. A small alarm went off in her head, locked in a conference room after hours with an extremely skilled duellist as she spoke to him about very sensitive matters, wearing nothing but a nightgown and a work robe. She suddenly felt exposed and vulnerable, but she pushed her trepidation aside.
"Why?" she asked, "the Statute has existed for hundreds of years. It's what keeps muggles safe from being exploited."
The Minister steepled his fingers and regarded her carefully though his horn-rimmed glasses.
"The Muggle Protection Act is what keeps muggles safe from being exploited…" Winthrop said.
He frowned.
"If we're to have this conversation, it must be in confidence," he said, "precious few are aware… not even Macmillan or Macnair, so I am putting a great deal of trust in you, Miss Granger. They wouldn't understand, but I think you might."
He paused and removed his glasses to clean them with a small handkerchief.
"I took notice of you after you came out for Being rights in the Prophet," he said, "and I've been watching you carefully ever since. To be perfectly honest, we could use the help of someone of your talent. This is also part of the reason why I offered you the junior undersecretary role."
Her cheeks flushed at the acknowledgement.
"I… I mean, of course… but I need to know… why?" she said.
Winthrop put his glasses back on.
"We had the power to help werewolves, and we did," he said as he folded his hands on the table, "why? Because it was the right thing to do, and we are all better for it. I'm currently working with your friend, Mr. Potter, on legislation to expand the rights of all Beings, and to grant them seats on the Wizengamot, because once again, it's the right thing to do. We will all benefit from it… after all, how can creatures accept governance by laws they have no say in?"
Hermione's eyes widened in surprise, and she nodded. That all made sense, and it was in line with what she knew about Winthrop… but she hadn't expected him to be able to move this quickly. Whether he'd be able to pull it off remained to be seen. Many wizards would balk at inviting Beings, however few, onto the Wizengamot. However…
"But muggles are an entirely different story," she said, even though her psyche rebelled at the thought of contradicting her old DADA professor.
"Are they?" Winthrop asked, "muggles are Beings too. When we're back in Britain, take a trip and visit the families living in the houses we built. It made a difference for them. And we could make a difference for far, far more, if not for having to waste resources defending the Statute."
Hermione shook her head, it was true, but…
"But muggles… I'm not sure how well you know them. They could react violently," Hermione said.
The Minister for Magic leaned back in his seat.
"I assure you, Miss Granger, I have worked extensively with muggles," Winthrop replied, "and they won't react violently if we prove we're able and willing to help them. How could they, if we offer to cure their fatal diseases, mend their broken bones in a matter of minutes, water their crops during droughts, repair their homes after an earthquake…"
He made a motion with his hand as if to say 'etc etc', but Hermione continued to slowly shake her head.
"Some of them would," she said. She knew it to be true… people were always afraid of what they didn't understand, and magic was beyond rational, scientific comprehension.
"True, some might take offense, somehow… but those who benefit would far outweigh that tiny minority, and they would enforce their own laws against violence," Winthrop said, "We won't know unless we try."
He leaned forward, passion now all but pouring from his expression, and Hermione held her breath as she soaked it in.
"If we could cure obliviation and choose not to, what does that say about us? Is that not why you are waging your battle against the Council of Master Healers?" he asked, "Does that same argument not apply to a muggle affliction like cancer? Tell me… what is your position? Should we help the muggles, or let them live, and die, on their own?"
Hermione paused as her brain stuttered. She fought the urge to immediately agree with Winthrop, forced her mind to think through the ramifications… but they proved to be too staggeringly huge to comprehend in a late-night meeting in a shuttered conference room.
"Well of course I think we should help people where we can…" she said.
"And do you think we could help more if not for the Statute?" he asked.
The logic was indisputable.
"Yes…" she said, "but what about the ICW?"
Sitting opposite the Minister of Magic, Percy's suggestion that purpose of the entire trip was to placate the organisation took on an entirely different meaning, given the content of the surreal discussion she was currently engaged in.
"The ICW is not neutral," Winthrop said as he leaned back, "their entire raison d'être is to ensure the continued application of the Statute. I doubt they are capable of making an unbiased judgement."
"But that would mean…" she thought.
Hermione took a deep breath.
"I'll need to give it some thought," she said.
Winthrop smiled, the passion hidden again.
"Don't think too long," he said, "time waits for no one, and I could use your help. The muggles could use your help."
Hermione nodded.
"I'm glad we had this conversation, but it's late," he said as he removed the privacy charms, "now, I know you can keep a secret, but I must stress again: please do not discuss this with anyone else… most wouldn't understand."
Hermione nodded again. She could see how they wouldn't, but she found herself agreeing with Winthrop's reasoning, at least for the most part.
"That's odd… shouldn't I have more reservations about such a radical change?" she thought, but she quickly squashed the notion as she followed Winthrop back to the lift. She would think about it later, in the light of day.
The following morning, all her belongings back in her pouch in preparation for checkout, she approached another conference room with Percy. The conversation with Winthrop the previous night seemed like a dream, and she resolved to give it more thought when she had time to herself.
"You know Hermione, I'd heard from Ron, and the stories, of course, of how studious and thorough you are, and I must say, I'm still impressed," Percy said, "I'm glad the Minister assigned the two of us to this task."
"Likewise, Perce," Hermione replied, "with both of us working together and Winthrop behind us, I think we can really get things moving in the right direction once we're back in London."
Hermione stopped in front of the conference room door and was nearly run over by a short, shorter even than her, black-haired man with tanned skin, wearing dark blue dress robes, as he burst from the room. The severe face looked familiar, if slightly older than his photograph, and Hermione made the connection: Armand DeSoto, Chief Warlock of the ICW since Dumbledore's passing.
"Pardon," he said as he pushed past her.
"It's an honour to meet you, sir," she said as she extended a hand.
He paused and looked her over, then recognition flickered, though he did not move to shake her extended hand, and awkwardness rose in Hermione's chest as she lowered it to brush against her robes.
"Miss Granger, I presume," he said in what was almost a cross between a French and Spanish accent, "I understand you have accepted a role in Minister Winthrop's administration."
The Chief Warlock glanced back into the conference room, then at Hermione.
"I hope you can help bring positive change to Britain," he said, then continued walking without addressing Percy.
"That was rude," Hermione said.
"At least he spoke to you," Percy said as they entered the conference room for the last meeting of the trip. Winthrop and Macmillan already sat, and Hermione and Percy joined them to await the delegation due to arrive in a few minutes.
Hermione took her usual detailed notes, but her mind wasn't able to focus on what the acceptable uses of Veela charms should be and how to resolve complaints against them. After several long and exhausting days, she looked forward to sleeping in her own bed, but as her heart started beating faster, she couldn't deny the real reason she wanted to get home.
"I can't wait to see Bella," she thought.