The day of the election, Hermione awoke with excited nerves fluttering in her chest. Even though she knew Youth Representative wasn't generally considered to be huge deal, Hermione couldn't help but be excited. She had a chance to join the government – when she was thirteen.

She thought any Slytherin would probably be excited at such a chance.

…well. Maybe not Goyle.

Hermione dressed carefully, thoughtfully. She opted to wear the French-cut robes she'd bought with Fleur, the lovely amber ones, and she pinned her hair back with the blue Morpho butterfly clip Fleur had transfigured for her, managing something similar to the style Fleur had helped her with. When she looked in the mirror, she looked mature and confident, her wild hair contained in a sort of restrained beauty, and Hermione was careful to make sure she looked regal yet relatable – someone to look up to, but also someone you'd want to just sit with and have a chat.

Hermione's parents teased her as they got up and got ready for the day themselves.

"You look so serious, dear," her mother said, smiling slightly. "Isn't this supposed to be an exciting day?"

"It is exciting," Hermione protested. "I'm just nervous about the portkey – I've never used an international one before."

"That sock?" her father said, raising an eyebrow, before shaking his head and laughing. "Magic. I'll never understand it."

"Good luck!" her mother wished her with a smile. Her eyes danced. "Not that you'll need it, love."

"Thanks, Mum, Dad," Hermione said. She gave her parents a nervous smile. "See you tonight."

Hermione's portkey went off at exactly the appointed time, and a sharp yank behind Hermione's navel had her spinning through screeching nothingness before she landed hard on the ground of Diagon Alley on her bottom, gasping for breath and fighting back nausea.

"Hermione!"

Her vision spinning, Hermione felt helping hands on her arms and back, guiding her to her feet. When her stomach settled, she could see it was Daphne and Draco who had helped her, their eyes shining with concern.

"Are you okay?" Daphne asked, worried. "Draco said international portkeys can be difficult."

"They are," Draco insisted. "I've taken them from France before. They're never fun."

"I'm alright, I think," Hermione said, breathing deeply. "I just need a moment."

Careful, Daphne and Draco stepped away from her, letting her regain her footing. Hermione was surprised to see they were in a tight alleyway, stone buildings enclosing them and trash bins a few yards away. She gave Draco a quizzical look, glancing around, and he smirked.

"Didn't want you to throw up in front of all the voters," he told her, smirking. "It was a possibility, with an international portkey. Not the best impression to make, you know?"

Hermione laughed. "I suppose not."

As they made their way out of the alley, Hermione was delighted to see colorful banners all around the square. Draco grinned at her surprise.

"The alley wasn't really happy with us all putting up campaign posters or banners this month," he said, "but they agreed we could for the last week before the election. I think they've pretty much surrendered the square to us for today."

The banners around the square had all different slogans and images on them. Malcolm Smith's was bright with bold yellow and black stripes, declaring "Malcolm Smith – A Heritage You Can Trust" overtop a Hufflepuff crest. Another large banner was decorated mostly with green and black, declaring "Vote Cassius Warrington – the Strength of the Youth". Cho Chang's looked to be blue and silver, though Hermione couldn't make the slogan out, and she would bet the red and gold one across the square would belong to Lee Jordan.

"So many house colors," she commented. She looked to at the others. "What did you pick for ours?"

Draco grinned. "C'mon. You'll be pleased."

They guided her across the square, where a large purple and silver banner was posted. It was billowing slightly in an unseen wind, and it had a large moving portrait of Hermione on it, posing with her sword. The portrait looked determined and confident, a small smirk on her lips as she looked out over the crowd. Silver words edged in gold shone overtop the regal purple, reading "Vote for Hermione – The One Who Gets Things Done". Her other Slytherin classmates were clustered around and beneath the banner, and Hermione grinned when Tracey came running up toward her.

"Do you like it?" she asked. "I got the photo off of MacMillain. We couldn't go with Slytherin colors – Warrington claimed those pretty quick – so we thought—"

"I love it," Hermione assured her, smiling widely. "It looks great."

Tracey beamed.

Daphne had already moved to talk to Pansy and Millicent, who were eyeing Éadaoin Lobosca's banner from across the way. Hers was white and gold, and it bore a defiant image of Éadaoin herself with her arms crossed, looking determined. Her banner read "A Vote for Éadaoin is a Vote for Equality for All", which made Hermione curious.

"Did you ever figure out what she's running on?" Hermione asked Pansy. "That's an unusual slogan."

Pansy's eyes gleamed.

"I did," she said with satisfaction. "As it so happens, her sister is a werewolf. She wants to get onto the Wizengamot to try and push for werewolf rights."

Hermione reared back in surprise. "A werewolf?"

"It's a secret," Pansy told her, eyes gleaming, "but yes. Fenrir Greyback bit her sister when she was seven."

Hermione was horrified, and she swallowed hard. She knew werewolves were a thing, yes - but it was quite another to imagine someone viciously attacking a child or a beloved sister.

"The hedgewitches won't be keen on that," Hermione said, her voice steady. "One of the things they said they wanted was more protection from werewolves."

"That doesn't surprise me," Daphne said, tossing her hair, which she had taken the time to curl into perfect ringlets. "Their homes aren't exactly the most protected."

"That's hardly their fault," Hermione snapped. "They rent from the purebloods. It's the purebloods' responsibility to protect their lands and maintain silver wards."

Daphne looked surprised, then shrugged.

"I don't know the finer details of it," she said. "Regardless, Éadaoin's not likely to get many votes with a platform like that."

Tracey had a table set up in front of the banner, also draped with a purple cloth to match, and Hermione was amused to find Blaise sitting at the table, concentrating on the banner very hard.

"Are you the one making it billow in the wind?" she asked, laughing. Blaise looked up at her in surprise, before a slow smile spread across his lips.

"It's good practice," he said, smirking. "And I'm less likely to get hurt this way than trying to fly."

He pulled out a chair next to him, which Hermione happily took.

"So what's the plan for today?" she asked. "When does voting actually start? How does it work?"

"Excellent question!" Tracey appeared next to them from nowhere, as if summoned by her query. "And I have just the answer!"

Hermione rolled her eyes but laughed. "Then how does it work?"

"At 10am, the Unspeakables will arrive and begin the voting process over there," Tracey said, nodding towards the stage, where some tables and curtains had been set up. "You go up to the table, and you press your palm to one of their rocks. The rock will check your age and magic, and once you're approved, you go behind the curtain to vote." She hesitated. "I'm not entirely sure how you vote, but I imagine it's very straightforward."

"A rock?" Hermione was intrigued. "And this allows them to know our age?"

"The Department of Mysteries can do Merlin knows what," Millie said, stepping up next to Tracey. "Who knows what insanity they get up to in there with no oversight?"

"Imagine what you could discover about magic with no oversight and actual funding!" Hermione defended. "I think it sounds interesting."

Tracey laughed. "You would."

Hermione looked out over the square. Some of the other tables were moving things around, people shifting and such. Lee Jordan had moved to stand in front of his table and was doing tricks with a muggle yo-yo, to Hermione's surprise. Malcolm Smith just stood to the side of his nervously, his cousin shooting him dark looks from time to time.

"In case people want to meet the candidates," Tracey said, following Hermione's gaze. "You can stand in the front if you want to? No one's here yet, though, so it's not really necessary."

"And… just stand there all day?" Hermione asked, frowning. "For hours?"

Tracey shrugged helplessly. "Voting runs from 10 to 5."

Hermione groaned. That sounded miserable.

Across the square at the platform, a few Unspeakables had appeared, clad in deeply hooded robes. There was something glowing behind the dark curtains they had set up, and Hermione wondered just what was going on. It was fascinating how their robes and hoods obscured them so entirely – Hermione couldn't even tell if a man or a woman was beneath the heavy robes.

"Are those French?"

Hermione looked up at Draco, who was gesturing to her robes.

"Your robes," he said. "They don't look like the usual ones. Did you get them in France?"

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed. "I did, actually. Look."

She stood and gave a small twirl, Daphne and Pansy murmuring appreciatively.

"The French palette is usually so washed out," Daphne said. "But that color is exquisite on you, Hermione."

"Nice cut, too," Pansy admitted. "Is that embroidery around the neckline or lace?"

Hermione felt flattered by their interest. "It's embroidery, in tiny leaves all around."

Draco looked satisfied and proud, like he knew she'd show up looking good and could somehow take credit for it, while Blaise's keen eyes were scanning her, perceptive.

"You got a new butterfly," Blaise commented. He raised an eyebrow. "A gift?"

"Oh, yes," Hermione said, patting her hair embarrassedly. "I forgot. But yes – I thought the blue went with the robes and my hair better."

But no one was listening to her about the colors – at her words, Daphne and Pansy gasped, and Draco froze where he stood.

"A gift?" he breathed, his eyes bright. "And you accepted it?"

"I—what?" Hermione was thrown. "It's just a hair clip—"

"It's silver, Hermione," Daphne said, her eyes wide. "And you're wearing it."

"It counts as jewelry," Pansy snapped, directly. She looked at Hermione, impatient. "Did you accept it without realizing what it was?"

"I… oh…"

Hermione swallowed. The fact was, she had accepted it from Fleur without a thought. Tracey had helped her with her other hair clips before, and she'd never considered anything of it—

"I made a friend in France, a French witch," Hermione said hastily. She touched her hair self-consciously. "She helped me make a clip that matched my robes. It wasn't—it's not like that—"

Draco relaxed visibly in front of her, practically wilting in relief. Daphne looked like she was stifling laughter, while Pansy looked highly annoyed.

"Don't call it a gift, then, Granger," Pansy said curtly. "Circe, it's like you have no idea what anything even means."

Draco seemed happy to drop the issue entirely, but Blaise's eyes were still keen on Hermione, watching. When Hermione leaned back against the table, he eyed her sideways. He was looking at her almost suspiciously, but without the element of paranoia suspicion usually had. Almost like he was suspecting something, but with nothing nefarious in mind.

Finally, he spoke.

"A French witch?" he asked. "A new friend?"

"Yes," Hermione said. "We met by chance at Versailles. She's been lovely in showing me around."

Blaise's eyes had a gleam to them Hermione couldn't decipher. "And you enjoy her company?"

"Of course...?" Hermione said, her tone questioning. "I wouldn't spend time with her if I didn't."

Blaise hummed to himself, considering, before his eyes slid sideways to her.

"And when she gave you the hair clip," he said. "Did she just give it to you?"

To Hermione's mortification, she flushed.

"She made it with a charm and some transfiguration," Hermione equivocated. "I doubt it's real silver."

Blaise was not to be denied.

"And did she give it to you?" he murmured, his eyes locked on hers. "Or did she put it in your hair?"

Hermione hesitated. Did that make a difference…? She remembered rules about accepting jewelry from others, but not about them putting jewelry on her…

"She… she offered it to me, first," she said, remembering. "And I thanked her. She then offered to put it in my hair for me, if I didn't mind… she did a pretty braiding thing and clipped it in the back for me, for me to wear."

"And she did this in public?" Blaise asked. "Or in private?"

Hermione gnawed her lip. "Public. At Place Cachée."

Blaise's eyebrows rose very high, and he whistled lowly.

"I don't quite know how the French do things, Hermione," he told her. His eyes glinted. "But maybe don't mention that bit to Malfoy."

Hermione blushed a bright red in mortification.

"You can't mean—" she stammered. "You don't—"

"I know what that would mean if someone did it in Diagon Alley," Blaise said, shrugging. His eyes glinted. "And if they put it in your hair… wizard or witch."

"It wasn't like that!" Hermione's cheeks were hot. "She didn't say anything like that afterward, nothing to indicate it was like that, just that it was beautiful."

Blaise's eyes were sharp, and he tilted his head.

"That it was beautiful?" he asked, emphasizing the word. "Or that you were beautiful?"

Hermione faltered, flustered.

"It was in French," she said, hesitant. "I think she said that it was beautiful in my hair. Or something similar."

Blaise was smirking, mischief in his eyes.

"So you have a new French witch friend giving you jewelry in public with unclear intentions," he summarized. He tutted. "Is she pretty, Hermione? Did you like it when she touched your hair?"

Hermione was mortified.

"It's not like that!" she protested. "She's just showing me around Paris!"

"Ah," Blaise said, his eyes holding hers. "But do you want it to be like that?"

"I—"

Hermione faltered, her cheeks flaming, and she couldn't meet his eyes.

Why was Blaise even asking her this? How could he tell? Hermione had done a relatively good job of denying her growing infatuation with the older girl to herself. How had Blaise sussed it out within minutes?

How did he even know she fancied witches on occasion, for that matter? She was mortified. She'd never mentioned it to anyone, not really – had he caught her looking at someone once and never mentioned it…?

She heard Blaise chuckle lowly next to her.

"A summer romance with a beautiful witch," he said quietly, his voice teasing. "Such is the stuff of dreams..."

Hermione could feel her face was still hot.

"Even if it was," she said finally, "she's done nothing to indicate anything like that."

"Except give you jewelry," Blaise countered, smirking.

"She transfigured it from a hair clip I already had and a conjuring charm," Hermione protested. "I really don't think…"

"Maybe." Blaise hummed, thoughtful, before giving Hermione a sly sideways look. "Doesn't mean it won't become that when you go back."

Hermione could feel herself flushing as Blaise's eyes wandered over her. He seemed more amused than jealous (a welcome change from people's reaction to learning that Cedric had taken her out), and his gaze was fairly curious, evaluating.

"If you want to practice kissing more before you go back to her," he teased her, his eyes gleaming with a shared secret as they met hers, "just let me know."

Hermione gasped as her face flamed, and she stood up rapidly, fanning herself, hearing Blaise's laugh from behind her. She marched right up to Tracey (and away from Blaise) to interrupt her conversation with Millie.

"When's voting begin?" she asked, ignoring the flush heating her face. "I want to be one of the first ones to vote, so I can help explain the process to anyone else who might get confused."

Tracey raised an eyebrow at Hermione's tone, but she shrugged.

"Shortly," she said. "The Unspeakables will ring a bell."

"Good," Hermione said determinedly. "I'm going to go wait in line."

She strode away across the square to form a queue of one in front of the Unspeakables, leaving Blaise and the others behind her, desperately trying to forget Blaise's words and push the entire matter from her mind. This was the Election Day, and this was an important day. She couldn't afford to be distracted.

The quiet, husky implication in Blaise's tone when he offered though, and the ghost Fleur's soft touch on her face as she pulled back after clipping the butterfly in her hair lingered in her mind, though, and it took a long time for Hermione's flush to finally fade.

The square grew much busier around noon, and Hermione was glad she had voted first. She wouldn't have wanted to wait in the long queue now.

Voting had been odd. First, an Unspeakable had instructed her to lay her hand down upon a literal rock. Once the rock glowed blue, the Unspeakable allowed her to go behind the black curtains, where she was greeted by a sudden, large expanse of tall, flat rock, about nine feet high and probably twelve feet across.

The giant, magical rock the Unspeakables had brought with them had been set up behind the curtains to protect voting anonymity. On the stone, the name of each candidate was written in silver with a picture of each candidate stuck to the stone below the name, and a impression of a handprint was inlaid into the rock underneath each one. Hermione found the photo of herself (not a bad one, she thought with satisfaction) and pressed her hand to the handprint under her name, and she watched it glow the lilac color of her magic before it faded, and a soft chime was heard.

Hermione briefly wondered how someone would vote if they'd lost both their hands. Maybe with their head or foot? Did the Unspeakables have a secondary way of recording votes somehow?

All of the Slytherins in her class voted quickly as well, eager to beat the rush, as did the other candidates and their tables. Cho Chang's table in particular had amassed quite a crush of Ravenclaws, and over a dozen of them clustered together to wait to be approved by the Unspeakables to go and vote.

"She has a lot of people," Hermione said, worrying at her lip.

Tracey scoffed. "All Ravenclaws. And not that many. Don't worry – more people will show up throughout the day."

The election tables proved helpful once the square grew busier. Many people Hermione didn't know were winding their way around the square before getting in line to vote, quizzing the candidates, and Hermione did her best to answer their questions.

"Why should I vote for you?" was the question asked most commonly. Hermione had a good answer for that one: she would hold up a back issue of the Daily Prophet with her defeat of the basilisk emblazoned on the front page, and comment that she was motivated, and that she got things done.

"What are you running for?" was a harder question to answer. Hermione eventually settled on explaining she didn't really have a platform yet, because she didn't know what was most important to the British Youth. But whatever was most concerning to them, she would do her best to represent within the Wizengamot.

That response got mixed responses, and Hermione gnawed at her lip as those people walked away.

"They want to hear that you support traditional ways and practices," Daphne admonished quietly. "They're expecting you to support the pureblood way of life."

"The pureblood way of life doesn't accurately represent all of the British Youth, though," Hermione objected. "Just look at all the hedgewitches – they're hardly participating in such culture, aren't they?"

Pansy scoffed and sighed, folding her arms.

"You were supposed to convince them to vote for you, Granger," she said, her tone snide. "Not let them Obliviate you into believing their whining."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

The Hedgewitches, though, didn't seem to have come, and Hermione grew more and more anxious as the day wore on. She did see many of her classmates over the course of the afternoon, many of whom waved. Neville waved from across the square as he waited in line, and Harry showed up with Susan and Luna, stopping by her table to say hi.

"I didn't even know this was a thing," Harry said ruefully, running a hand through his hair. His green eyes were bright and friendly. "I didn't even realize there was more than just Diagon Alley. But of course I'll vote for you, Hermione."

Hermione beamed back at him. "Thanks, Harry."

As the afternoon wore on and the square emptied, Hermione grew more and more nervous, watching the large clock over the square. It now read 4 o'clock, and voting was set to close at 5.

"Did the hedgewitches not like you?" Draco asked her seriously. "I would understand if they didn't. They must be terribly envious of your magical power, of course, and it would make sense if they resent you for it."

"It wasn't like that," Hermione protested. "I thought – I'd thought I'd sort of made friends. Really."

Draco looked at her quizzically, before sighing.

"Well, maybe they got the date wrong," he said cynically. "They're exactly not the fastest bunch of brooms, are they?"

"Or," Tracey said slyly, "maybe they wanted to make an entrance."

Hermione turned around. "Oh?"

Tracey was laughing. "Can't you hear?"

Hermione strained her ears, as did Draco. She could vaguely hear stomping in the distance and the sound of singing, gradually growing louder. As the song grew louder, she saw a large group of people enter the Carkitt Market square from the far end, wearing kirtles and vests and tunics – a very familiar sight to her eyes. One of the ones in the front grinned at her and waved, and Hermione felt her heart lighten immensely as she practically flew over to them.

"You came!" she exclaimed, hugging Derek and Clover. She stepped back to look at them, relieved. "I was afraid you wouldn't make it!"

"Nah," Derek dismissed. "Just had to get off work, didn't we? An' we figured we'd wait 'til the end." He grinned. "That way, we'll be here for the victory party."

Hermione laughed, relieved.

"I don't know about that," she said. "But we can certainly hope!"

"Then we'd just have a mournin' party, wouldn't we?" he teased. "No better 'xcuse to get proper drunk than mournin' a loss, I'd tell you!"

The hedgewitches' queue to vote was more a vaguely linear cluster of people than a proper line, definitely not arranged one by one, but they were all chatting animatedly and waiting their turn, many of them waving at her cheerily, and Hermione waved back. The other candidates were watching her with wide eyes and open suspicion, but Hermione found she didn't care. What did she care if they were suspicious of her befriending the hedgewitches? She hadn't gotten her magic stolen (the very thought was ridiculous), and they were young witches and wizards too, just the same as everyone else, with just the same right to vote.

Éadaoin was the only other one to approach the hedgewitches, gathering her bravery and determination before doing so. Hermione watched as she talked to a few of them as they waited in line, but a few minutes later there was an audible hissing, and she saw Éadaoin falter backwards with her eyes wide, visibly recoiling from the line.

"Do you think they hurt her?" Draco asked, his eyes wide. "I wouldn't think they'd be so thickheaded as to attack someone openly in the Alley, but—"

"I think she probably mentioned werewolf rights to them," Hermione cut him off. "And they probably thought rather negatively of her after that."

After voting, the hedgewitches didn't dissipate or go home – instead, they all headed to the Hopping Pot, ordering butterbeers and snacks and occupying the tables, talking and chatting loudly as they were wont to do. Hermione was grinning at the sight, now somewhat familiar with their ways, but Cho's table and Éadaoin's both looked almost frightened at the sight.

Around 4:50pm, Hermione saw a familiar figure stride into the square, along with Harry Potter at his side.

"That's the Minister!" Hermione said, grabbing Tracey's arm. "What's he here for?"

Tracey gave her an odd look.

"To announce the winner," she said. "Who else did you think would do it?"

"Err—"

Honestly, Hermione had figured one of the Unspeakables would. She hadn't anticipated much ceremony about it. Despite the voting and the pageantry around it all, it was mostly only children who seemed to care; adults had walked by all day thoroughly ignoring the spectacle, seeming almost exasperated with the fuss. Hermione had been mentally treating it more like a more dramatic Student Council election than a proper government election.

Harry came over to the Hermione's Slytherin table with a little hesitation.

"Good turn out?" he asked, keeping a distance from Malfoy. "Looks like a lot of people showed up right at the end."

"They did," Hermione said, laughing. She grinned at Harry, who was startled into grinning as well. "That they did."

"What are you going to do if you win, Hermione?" Harry asked her. "Are you going to get to oversee trials and the like? Even with classes and everything?"

"I think so," Hermione said, musing. "Grand Trials with the entire Wizengamot are rather rare, though – mostly it's local courts and representatives that handle low-level cases. But I'd be essentially part of the magical Parliament, getting to help decide and vote on laws."

"Blimey." Harry whistled. "Well, you'd be good at it. Will you have to do the standing up and sitting thing all the time when people talk?"

Hermione laughed. "I don't think they do that here."

Harry grinned. "Lucky."

The line of voters finally petered out just before five, and Hermione watched the clock tick down the last seconds before one of the Unspeakables rang a large gong.

"The Election is over. Voting is concluded," the Unspeakable said, their voice carrying over the square. "We will total the votes."

The Unspeakables and the Minister went behind the curtain, and Hermione wondered how the tallying worked. Did the wall just make the number of votes appear next to each candidate's photo? She imagined magic helped the wall keep track of how many hands had been pressed to each place.

The other candidates and their teams filtered out from behind their tables now, mingling in the center of the square. Hermione followed Tracey's lead in this, following her out to the center, where Cassius Warrington was speaking loudly.

"—supported by the Selwyns, Fawleys, Burkes, and Carrows," he was saying. "And, of course, they have a rather large domain, so I expect their tenants would follow their wishes—"

"They can't do that," Hermione hissed to Tracey. "They can't make their hedgewitches vote a certain way. Can they?"

"That's very illegal," Tracey assured her. "That's why there are the curtains – so your vote is anonymous. It's also illegal to make someone swear a vow about which way they will vote or how they voted."

"Not to mention that any family so gauche as to require their tenants to vote a specific way in a children's election would be a laughingstock," Pansy added dryly. She glanced at Daphne. "With all due respect, Daphne, Cassius is talking out of his arse."

Daphne sighed, but it was more of a dreamy, moonstruck sort of sigh.

"He's very confident and commanding though, isn't he?" she said. Her eyes followed him across the square. "He might not win, but he'll be a good leader someday, don't you think?"

Hermione found herself exchanging an exasperated eye roll with Pansy, of all people, to their mutual amusement.

"All of Ravenclaw voted for you, Cho," one girl was saying to Cho, holding her hands. "That's a lot. And if the other houses were divided up amongst the others, you'll get the largest contingent of votes."

"Not every Ravenclaw," Blaise commented. He smirked at Hermione. "If Luna didn't vote for you, I'd eat my hat."

His comment lightened the tension a bit, and Hermione managed a laugh.

They all watched nervously as the Unspeakables and the Minister reemerged from behind the curtain, the Minister clearing his throat and touching his wand to his throat. The conversation died immediately, and Cassius and Lee Jorden both froze in place, while Cho looked like she was going to be ill. Hermione clutched Tracey's hands anxiously, who was clutching hers back, eyes wide.

"The next British Youth Representative, to replace Gabriel Truman—"

Fudge's voice echoed around the square, and Hermione held her breath, watching on tenterhooks. She saw Fudge pause and smile.

"—is Hermione Granger."

There was an immediate reaction. Hermione and all of the Slytherin girls with her began shrieking, jumping up and down in excitement, and the boys all cheered loudly, Harry joining in. The hedgewitches over at the Hopping Pot were banging their mugs on the wooden tables and cheering as well, stomping their feet, and Hermione shot a pleased grin over at Derek, who returned it with a wink.

"Congratulations to Hermione Granger," Fudge said. "If you would approach the stage?"

Hermione strode up to the platform proudly, her back straight, and Fudge looked down at her with an amused fondness as he pulled his wand from his throat.

"Of course you'd win this," he said, his voice a normal tone again. "Who else would be more appropriate to represent the youth?"

He pinned a badge on her, a gold circle with a dark M in the middle of it, the M being weighed on a scale. There was Latin around the edges of it, words Hermione would have to look up later.

"Turn around for a moment and let them cheer," Fudge instructed her, amused. "Then we'll discuss the details of your appointment."

Obedient, Hermione turned around with her new Wizengamot badge on her robes, and cheering broke out again. Several people shot off sparks despite the underage restriction of magic, but Fudge seemed inclined to ignore it as an impromptu celebration and party broke out.

"There are some things you will need to know about your new position," Fudge told her seriously. "It's best to discuss them now, so you don't fret over the rest of the summer."

He guided her behind the curtain, and then again behind the large stone. There were scattered chairs there, and Hermione wondered if this was a sort of break room for the Unspeakables. Fudge took a seat, shifting, and Hermione sat down as well.

"First of all, congratulations," he told her. He smiled. "I'm genuinely pleased that you won it. You're a sharp young woman with a practical head on your shoulders. You're a much better choice than most of those who ran."

Hermione couldn't help but beam. "Thank you, sir."

"Second of all," he said, "the expectations. Are you aware of what the Wizengamot is and what it does?"

"Mostly," Hermione said. "They meet to propose and discuss legislation and sign it into new laws, as well as oversee very high-profile trials."

"That is about the sum of it," Fudge said, nodding. "There are some finer details, but you will pick them up as you go along. The important thing to know is legislative sessions are every two weeks on Tuesday, while judicial sessions are scheduled as needed."

Hermione bit her lip and nodded. "I see."

"As such, as you are still in school," Fudge said, reaching into his pocket, "the Ministry has developed a way for you to be able to attend your studies as well as sessions with the Wizengamot." He withdrew what looked like an hourglass suspended in the center of a gyroscope. "This is called a Time-Turner, Miss Granger. This will allow you to be in two places at one time."

Hermione's eyes grew huge, and she felt faint. "A… Time-Turner, sir?"

"These are very rare devices, and they are highly monitored," Fudge told her. "I have a Ministry pamphlet on Time-Turner Safety you will need to read and sign off on before you use this. It includes some information on confidentiality you will have to agree to as well. But this will allow you to travel to the past and relive a period of hours, which will allow you to both attend all your classes and not miss sessions with the Wizengamot."

"I… thank you, sir." Hermione was speechless. "Thank you for trusting me with this."

Fudge shrugged, handing her the thick Ministry pamphlet.

"Your peers decided you are the best of them," he said, hanging the chain around her neck, gesturing for her to hide it underneath her robes. "They're the ones who are trusting you."

"Are there any restrictions?" she asked, her mouth dry. "Does it only work on Tuesdays?"

Fudge looked surprised.

"No, that'd be silly," he said, shaking his head dismissively. "Then what would you do if there was a judicial session on a Thursday night? No, no, it works whenever. Just follow the safety guidelines, and you should be well-informed on how to properly use it to make sure you don't miss the Wizengamot sessions."

"Thank you, sir." Hermione could scarcely believe this was happening. "Thank you so much."

"It was my pleasure," he assured her, standing up. He suddenly looked very tired. "This is one of the nicer responsibilities my position comes with."

Hermione was abruptly reminded that the violent criminal Sirius Black was still on the loose. No wonder the Minister looked so tired.

"Have a good day, Miss Granger," he bid her, tipping his hat. "The Wizengamot resumes September 7th. I will see you then."

"Take care, sir," Hermione called after him, clutching the Time-Turner to her chest. "Thanks again!"

She heard the sharp crack of Disapparition as the Minister left, and she hurried out from behind the giant rock as well, ignoring the looks from the Unspeakables, who she suspected were eager to take the voting booth down and go home. The square was full of hedgewitches who were drinking butterbeer and celebrating, along with a group of Slytherins on the other side of the square who were also celebrating, but in a much more restrained and very separate way. Hermione went to her friends first, and Tracey seized Hermione in a tight hug.

"This is brilliant!" she said, grinning. "Just think – you'll know all the hot gossip first!"

Hermione laughed. "If you say so."

Everyone was pleased for her, even Pansy, though she rolled her eyes. Theo was very serious when congratulating her, but Blaise was ebullient.

"You'll be great," he assured her, grinning. "Can't think of a better person to win."

Harry was pleased for her, and even more pleased when she hugged him without reservation, laughing.

"I can't believe it!" she exclaimed, hugging him tightly. "I mean, I hoped, but for it to actually happen-!"

Harry laughed, grinning at her as she pulled away.

"I can't imagine Hermione Granger wanting something and not managing a way to make it come true," he teased. His eyes sparkled. "So. You spoke to the Minister? He has a way for you to go to sessions without missing classes?"

"Oh, Harry…" Hermione's eyes sparkled. "Just wait until you see."