Hermione arrived at the office a few minutes late with dark circles under her eyes. Despite the Dreamless Sleep Potion, she'd woken covered in cold sweat, and feeling positively knackered. Harry was waiting at her desk and didn't look like he'd slept much better, though as she got closer she realised it was stress, not lack of sleep, etched upon his features. His hair (slightly unruly on the best of days) was an utter mess and when he saw her exit the lift, he ran a hand through it nervously, making it even messier.
"Merlin, Harry, are you alright? What happened?"
Harry shushed her. "Lower your voice and come here," he said furtively, as he pulled her out of the main hallway. He'd always been a bit high-strung, but something was seriously bothering him.
"Seriously, Harry. What is going on?" She kept her voice quiet this time, eyes darting around the office. Nothing else seemed amiss. The office was as quiet as it usually was before eight o'clock.
"Okay, I told Shacklebolt that I needed a chance to talk with you about this first, but he told me he wants to move quickly." He paced nervously, avoiding her eyes. "He's got this idea, and his PR team latched onto it and now they're off running. You know how he can be, especially so close to elections."
"Harry," Hermione prodded, hoping he'd focus and get to the point. She didn't know where he was going with this.
"Sorry, sorry… Don't freak out, okay?"
"That doesn't help." She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "Will you just bloody tell me? I don't have a clue what you are going on about!"
After taking a deep breath as if to organise his thoughts, he spoke in a rush. "Shacklebolt is putting together a new social program to help identify high-risk wizards who might develop destructive or criminal tendencies based on what had happened to them during the war."
She blinked. "I'm not sure that I'm following how I play into this, or why you're all barmy over it."
"Shacklebolt specifically requested— ordered that I assign you to this project. He believes the research you've been doing on crime trends will be helpful in identifying program participants. The goal is to intervene before they become part of the system, hoping to interrupt the patterns we are seeing."
"It's certainly an intriguing idea. I'd been considering using my research to identify hot spots, in order to increase Auror presence, but this could help us cut it off at the knees before it begins. Who else from the office is working on this? Bell? Longbottom?"
Harry looked chagrined. "That's the problem. It's not our people." He cast a quick Muffliato as a precaution. "They're bringing in Malfoy."
Hermione's face went white. "Lucius?! But how he's in Azka—"
"Oh no, Hermione! Merlin! They're bringing in Draco. He's been doing great work in the private sector with people like Pucey. There are others like him that have changed their views and are becoming better people, making amends—"
She hadn't heard a thing he'd said after his clarification that it was Draco, not his father Lucius. "I think I'm going to be ill; you want me to work with Malfoy." It wasn't so much a question as it was an accusation.
"No! Well, yes. Not me— Shacklebolt." He inhaled and blew out a deep breath, collecting himself, dispelling the Muffliato now that he knew she wasn't going to yell at him. "They're both in the conference room. I tried to delay the meeting so that you could have more time to prepare yourself, but The Minister is set on doing this now. Will you be okay?"
Silence hung for a few moments as she mentally braced herself. "Do I have a choice?" she asked in a joking tone, though it sounded forced to her ears; she didn't know why she bothered pretending in front of Harry.
"Well, no," he replied, matching her false tone. "But if you need a bit more time out here, I could tell them that the Brightest Witch of Her Age can't be bothered to show up for work on time." He wiggled his eyebrows at her, knowing how serious she was about timeliness. "Everyone knows that war-graduates are entirely unreliable anyway." The posturing reminded her of the unburdened boy from their first few years at Hogwarts, and she fought back a smile of her own.
"Harry James Potter, don't you dare!" She pushed her way past him and headed towards the conference room. "I hope you are prepared to pay for drinks tonight as an apology."
Taking a final bracing breath, she threw her shoulders back and entered the room. Kingsley Shacklebolt, in robes of varying shades of blue, sat leaning back in his chair, smiling brightly as he attempted to engage Draco Malfoy in conversation. Malfoy, on the other hand, appeared bored, writing in a notebook with papers spread out in front of him. It looked like he may have been waiting here a while. Good. She paused just inside the door, not wanting to be the one to initiate the conversation.
Malfoy glanced up, noticed her standing there, and stood quickly, clearing his throat. "Granger," he drawled. His eyes swept up and down, assessing. "You look…" —he searched for the word— "well."
It felt like she was back on her first day at Hogwarts, when he'd given her a similar assessing, sneering look. At least now he had developed the ability to stop himself from sneering openly; she hadn't realised he'd matured so much. If she had any less self-control, her eyes would be rolling.
Malfoy pulled out a chair for her at the table (a deeply ingrained habit, she was sure) before returning to his seat. She remained where she was, arms crossed and wand gripped tight.
Harry came in behind Hermione, taking the empty chair intended for her; she smirked at the look Draco shot at Harry. "Minister, now that we have all gathered, would you like to share this time-sensitive project, or shall I?" Harry cut right to the point, for which Hermione was grateful.
Kingsley gave an even brighter smile. "Ah yes, Hermione and Draco, thank you for joining us today. I'm so excited about the work we'll be doing together."
He launched into a flowery description of the project, expounding upon the information Harry had disjointedly shared with her a few moments ago. Draco Malfoy was on a six-month contract with the DMLE.. Ultimately, the goal was to reduce crime rates and mental health crises — particularly among those who had been raised with "old fashioned ideals" ("Old-fashioned ideals" was Ministry speak for blood purists, and while such views were broadly unfavourable, politicians didn't want to alienate potential constituents).
The monologue finally wound to a close. "If the two of you can help to reintegrate these individuals into society, we can heal the last of the major rifts from the war, and finally be able to move on as a community. I can't think of anyone better to co-lead this project. Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger working together to bring us into a new wizarding era."
Keeping the grimace off her face was an exercise in discipline.
After an awkward silence, which Kingsley, still beaming brightly, seemed completely oblivious to, he continued. "Well then, I'll leave you bright young people to it." He stood and clapped Malfoy on the shoulder; Malfoy looked stricken while the Minister continued unawares. "I look forward to hearing regular reports. Mr. Potter will provide you with any resources you need." And with that, he swept from the room.
After a few moments of tense silence, Harry cleared his throat, breaking the spell. "Well then. Uh, I'll let the rest of the department know that this conference room will be your new office for the foreseeable future." He began backing towards the door. "I'll, uh, leave you here." His gaze darted to her. "But I'll be just down the hall at my desk."
Gesturing vaguely behind him, he loitered in the doorway, unsure whether or not he should really leave them alone. Hermione nodded to him, indicating that she'd be alright and then, they were alone.
Draco glanced at her and arched an eyebrow — cool and dismissive as ever — before returning to his writing. The scritch-scratch of his quill was the only sound beyond the faint murmur of office activity in the background.
After several minutes, Hermione's impatience got the better of her. "Well, how are we going to do this, then?"
The scratching of the quill stopped abruptly. After a beat, Draco looked up: there was something she didn't recognise in his gaze. He let out a deep sigh and set the quill down, steepling his long fingers in front of him before responding. "Well, Granger, perhaps you could start by telling me about this research you've been doing. Potter said he's never seen anything like it," he smirked. "It's a pretty low bar, I admit. You always did have the only functioning brain of that bunch."
She bristled — of course he hadn't changed. It had been less than two minutes and he had already resorted to insults.
Having noticed her posture stiffen, he immediately backtracked. "Oh, sod it. I'm sorry, Granger. I was trying to— it was a rubbish joke." He pinched the bridge of his nose with his delicate fingers. "Let me try again— I've been working with Potter on a consulting basis, as you know, and he's told me a bit about the research you've done. It sounds like it could be revolutionary. Will you tell me more about it?"
She paused, shoulders still stiff, trying to decide if he really wanted to hear about it or if she was about to become the butt of another "joke". His face was earnest, open — so different from anything she'd ever seen at Hogwarts while he waited patiently for her to finish her appraisal. As much as her instincts screamed that this was a bad idea, she resolved to try taking Harry's advice. Most of her data analysis relied on Muggle technologies, so she supposed this would be an excellent test to see how much had really changed.
Waiting for the flash of disdain or disgust as she explained the basics of data mining and predictive analytics, she watched him critically. When she mentioned using a computer program for modelling, his expression didn't change. Although, like most of the wizarding community, had probably never heard of a computer.
He nodded politely, taking occasional notes as she spoke. His forehead furrowed several times in thought, but he didn't ask questions, as if he sensed that such things would distract her.
Her research was aimed at predicting areas with higher risk of criminal activity, so the DMLE could proactively deploy Aurors in those areas. It relied on extensive datasets and complicated algorithms. By the end of her explanation, she was slightly breathless. She always got more animated when talking about her research, and occasionally forgot to take a breath in between sentences as she spoke faster and faster.
When it was clear she was finished, Draco mused, "The bit about predicting areas of increased crime… it seems like it could be problematic. I mean, inevitably, if you increase Auror presence you will catch more people breaking the law, even when there hasn't actually been any change in criminal activity, that will artificially drive up the crime rate. Meanwhile, areas with reduced Auror presence naturally will have artificially lowered crime rates because there are no patrols, not because no crimes are occurring. Over time, it would influence your models. How are you factoring that in?"
It was a question no one had asked Hermione before. Although to be honest, those she'd explained this to hadn't really grasped the methodology. Harry's eyes had glazed before she'd even begun explaining the modeling, and others in the DMLE weren't much better. Malfoy, however, seemed to follow nearly all of what she was saying, even if he didn't understand the Muggle technology supporting it.
She hated that she didn't have a suitable answer and acknowledged it was an element of data bias that would have to be overcome. Pondering aloud the applicability of several statistical models, she trailed off, deep in thought and forgetting she had an audience.
"Do you think sending Aurors to areas where you already have increased criminal activity is a bit too late to be getting involved?" The question pulled her back to their conversation.
"Well, it's preventing future crimes from occurring, so I don't think that's too late at all," she scoffed.
"I think you should intervene even earlier," Draco spoke up again, tone still vaguely disinterested. She looked at him, confused, and he continued. "Could you use your algorithms to identify early childhood environmental or behavioural factors that correlate with higher rates of criminal activity?"
"Well, yes, I suppose I could, but it hadn't been something I'd considered." She paced across the floor; it helped her think. Draco, still seated at the desk, continued to watch her; his eyes bright despite the neutral tone of his voice. "I don't really see how that would be of much use to the DMLE."
A small smile tugged at the corner of Draco's lips, as if he was holding back a secret; it infuriated her. "Well, certainly not the way you currently run things. Everything Potter has you doing is reactionary at best," he scoffed.
She narrowed her eyes at him, recrossing her arms as she stopped pacing. "Well, Malfoy," she practically spat his name. "Perhaps if we weren't already struggling to keep your friends off the street, we'd be able to commit more of our budget to research, instead of something that I squeeze in at home and on the weekends."
How dare he ask her to share her research, only to criticise it immediately! It was one thing for him to offer something constructive, but it was another for him to offer vague ideas, followed by an even more vague criticism of her department. She'd almost forgotten who she was talking to.
His eyes like chips of granite as he returned her gaze, the muscles in his jaw working; his face was a mask once again. After a few moments of tense silence, he stood, picking an invisible piece of lint from his robes and magicking the documents back into his briefcase, which closed with a snap.
"Well, Granger," he mimicked, tone as cold as his eyes. "It's past time for lunch, and I have other appointments to attend to. I'm sorry to have taken so much of your precious time and kept you from the important work of sending your childhood enemies to Azkaban. Your methods for crime reduction have clearly been effective."
As he passed her, he wore the same disdainful sneer on his face that she'd seen time and time again. There he is, she thought, smugly satisfied, knowing that she'd forced him to show his true colours.
Not caring that it was immature, she stuck out her tongue at his retreating back.