"I can't believe this," Hermione thought annoyingly to herself. She had forgotten to switch her laundered clothes into the dryer before heading off to bed that previous night but had forgotten. Now she was running behind for the second time in a month — how she loathed Mondays.
She arrived to work twenty-one minutes after her scheduled arrival time, immediately greeted with arm-fulls of binders, folders, and stray parchment. These would usually be delivered to her desk but the clerk was running around like a mooncalf caught in the daylight and met up with her in the main hallway.
Hermione began working on her daily duties immediately. As she was finishing up, her supervisor, Gethsemane Prickle, rapped on her office door.
"Come in!" Hermione hollered from her leather chair. Mrs. Prickle approached the young woman's desk with a manila folder. On the front of the folder, a bright red ink stamp read "IMPORTANT".
"This," the older woman started as she laid it on the desk, "may be your big break around the department, Ms. Granger."
"What is it?" Hermione asked excitedly, clamoring to open the file. Her supervisor began explaining as Hermione scanned through the documents.
"There is a breeding ring of Jackalopes that has been rumored to be fighting the poor creatures in the Americas. Generally, after such information was found, we would report it to The Magical Congress of the United States of America and leave it at that; but my sources report that their fighting rings have made it into the United Kingdom. We are working with the MACUSA to solve this and I chosen you to be our interim Ambassador for this case."
Hermione was in shock — and feeling conflicting emotions. Ambassador for the Ministry, in any form, was an honor; but the reason behind her newfound temporary title was dismal.
"When am I to leave?" Hermione asked, obviously anxious to get to work.
"In one week, you are to arrive in New York City to meet with President Alan Silverthorn. You may arrange an escort once you arrive, assuming one is not immediately provided to you by the Congress."
Hermione already had an escort in mind. "May I choose an escort before I leave?"
Gethsemane furrowed her brow and pressed the bottom of her index finger against her pursed lips. "You wish to bring someone not from the target country?"
"Well, this particular individual has roots in and knowledge about the the United States. They are a friend of mine, actually, and I trust them to not lead me astray."
"The choice, while you're in our jurisdiction, is at your own discretion. Though, I'll need some information to keep on file for your escort. If anything goes wrong, we need to know who exactly was involved. You can expect those forms to arrive by the end of the day."
"Yes ma'am," Hermione replied. She watched as her supervisor left her office with just a few swift strides.
Once Hermione was alone, her straight face broke into one of the biggest smiles she had found all year. She had never been given such an important case, let alone a binational one that would allow her to travel somewhere other than England and while in hiding. She squealed to herself as the possibility of growth within the Ministry. Of course, she would need to confirm her choice of escort's confirmation to accompany her. Something told her they would not decline such an invitation.
Hermione made her way to the Department of Archives where, not only did they preserve historical documents, but they had names and addresses of all living wizards and witches in the United Kingdom. She found the name she was looking for and an address, which she wrote down hastily before leaving.
The rest of her day flew by like a breeze, and it moved by so quickly that she had taken it upon herself to stay a few extra hours to rummage through archives and documents about America, its Magical Congress, its cultural history, and its past with breeding and fighting magical and non-magical animals.
The clock behind her displayed the time of 8:27 PM. Remembering her guarantee to Benjamin, she hastily packed up her belongings and zipped out of her office and through the Atrium where the exits were.
Even though she suspected she wouldn't find him there at that hour, Hermione still Apparated outside The Leaky Cauldron. When she entered, she was greeted by the overnight bartender. Hermione approached the bar.
"Is Benjamin in?" She asked professionally.
"Who's asking?" The middle-aged bartender asked, eyeing her outfit up and down with a raised eyebrow and smirk on his face.
Hermione rolled her eyes and flashed her shiny, new DRCMC badge — an item given to her just hours prior.
"It's Ministry business, sir," she replied, her professionalism sinking into the back of her throat.
The bartender took one look at her badge and smirked, a slight noise leaving his nose.
"That badge don't scare me none. And no, Miss, he ain't here. He left for the night 'bout half an hour prior to you showing up." With that, he walked away from the bar and into the back, leaving Hermione alone with just a few older patrons having their nightly drinks.
She pulled the folded paper from her pocket and studied the address again. It wasn't too far — about ten minutes away.
Before she arrived at the apartment building, she noticed the rest of the surrounding area. The wealthier folk would refer to it as "the slums", and would avoid the neighborhood and its inhabitants. Hermione wasn't necessarily afraid, just sad. Many homes and buildings seemed to be desirable only for the desperate; and she quickly reminded herself that her friend lived here. An unusual weight filled her chest.
Hermione was lucky enough to find parking across the street. She made her way to the old brick building, which appeared to be twice as long as it was wide. There was no buzzer at the entrance and she wiggled the doorknob to find it unlocked. She peered inside through the dirty window of the door, seeing two doors to the left and right of the bottom of the stairs; two short hallways that followed the length of the building. Upstairs didn't share the layout with short hallways, but instead possessed three doors at the top: one on the left wall, one in the middle, and one on the right wall.
The front door to the building creaked as she entered, the smell of mildew and dust filling her nose. She scrunched up her face. Checking the number on both downstair doors, she cautiously ventured up the thin, wooden steps.
The door to her left had the impression of the number three above the peephole. She hesitated for a moment, whispering to herself before knocking lightly. Hermione assumed the walls were thin by the rhythmic thumping of music behind the door.
After ten seconds, the apartment door opened, letting out a refreshing fragrance of smooth eucalyptus with hints of warm leather (it definitely smelled better than the hallway). The sound of some sort of American folk music flooded her ears. The light from the apartment almost blinded her in the dark second-story.
"Hermione?" The familiar voice possessed by the black figure greeted her.
As her eyes began to un-squint they also adjusted to the light. The face of Benjamin Hendrix emerged from the previously shadowy profile.
"Hi," Hermione replied sweetly. She observed him as he parted his lips to speak, his arm resting above her head on the door's frame.
"You wanna come in?" He asked her while moving his arm out of the way and motioning into the entryway. She nodded and kept her smile as she moved past him, allowed Benjamin to shut the door behind them. The entryway took her to the left and into the small kitchen. Before entering the kitchen from the entryway, an open door to her right could be found as the source for the music. Past the kitchen was a small living room, though wider than the kitchen.
"Please don't take this the wrong way," Hermione started as she turned around to face Benjamin midway through the kitchen, "but by the outside, you'd never imagine this place to be as tidy as it is."
"It's okay," he smiled shyly, looking at the floor for a moment before looking up to meet Hermione's gaze. "I left many of my possessions on the farm. Plus, it's already a pretty shitty place to shack up. I can't imagine how it'd look if I was a slob." He motioned to the round table beside them. Hermione sat in the chair that faced the way she entered from. Benjamin sat in the only other chair that sat directly across from Hermione.
She placed her briefcase on the table. With a flick of her wand, it opened and very neatly a short stack of papers laid out in front of him.
"Those are the custody papers. They'll need to be returned within thirty days or they'll show up at their doorstep and forcibly take him, unfortunately."
He scanned over them as he replied, "No problem. I'll be sure to let them know."
Hermione studied Benjamin's expression as he continued reading over the contract.
"There's... something else," Hermione went on quietly.
"What's that?" He asked, setting the contract down beside him on the table.
"I'd like to tell you it's a small favor but it's really not," she went on, smiling amusingly. They barely knew each other, what was she thinking?
He crossed his arms and furrowed his brow, staring at her intently. "Go on, Ms. Granger."
She scoffed.
"You know, I imagine you'd make anything difficult looking at someone like that," she attempted to joke. To her comfort, his face softened a tad.
"I'm open-minded. Go ahead, shoot."
"Okay," she start hesitantly. "I've been given a pretty big case that could really elevate my reputation within my department. The thing is... I have to travel to the United States and work alongside MACUSA, as the case involves multiple nations."
Benjamin nodded for her to continue. "I'm to have an escort while locating those responsible. I was given clearance to choose whom I wish that to be. I was thinking that maybe..." she trailed off, hoping he would finish the sentence so she wouldn't have to continue to suck all of the air out of the room.
"... Maybe you were extending me the invite?"
"Y-yes. I'm sorry. I know it sounds crazy for me to show up at your apartment—," Benjamin chuckled and nodded, "— and invite you all the way across the world but I'm afraid I can't ask Harry or Ginny right now and I certainly won't ask Ron. I know we don't know each other that well but I believe I can trust you more than some other witch or wizard I've never even met." She closed her mouth instantly. Her lip wavered only slightly, as if she had just one last detail to input but reminded herself of the oxygen levels in the apartment.
"Hm," Benjamin grunted under his breath before pulling two ciders from the fridge. He popped the top off of Hermione's before handing it to her. She thanked him.
"You know," he went on as he popped the top to his own drink, "I'm flattered that I'd even cross your mind in a situation like this but—" he took a few hard swigs off the bottle, "— look around you. I'm poor, Hermione; there's no beating around the bush or denying that one. Does it look like I can afford a vacation anytime soon?"
"Oh, it's all paid for! Courtesy of the Ministry." She added zealously. "You're providing a service for me, the Ministry, and our world. It'd be highly dishonorable to expect you to pay for your way with what your responsibilities would require."
"What would my responsibilities be?"
Hermione beamed as she took a sip off her beer, keeping her eyes locked with Benjamin's. "You're interested then?"
He cleared his throat before replying.
"I might be."
"Okay", she took another sip before drawing out one more stack of papers and placing them in front of her friend. The stack was four times taller than the first one.
Benjamin laughed loudly for a moment before replying, "Of course. It had to be me, didn't it. You know, I rarely read the terms and conditions when I sign up for anything?" He began flipping through energetically, passing by some very important information and disclaimers. He picked up the pen she had provided prior and began signing away with his left hand.
"Benjamin! You haven't even read it!"
Hermione exclaimed.
He shrugged as he kept his head down to finish his initialing. "When do we leave?"
"We'll be in New York by this time next week."
His head popped up as she mentioned the location. A grimace on his face.
"New York? They couldn't pick a better smelling, less populated location? For fuck's sake."
"Just remember," Hermione continued, "you'll be representing the British Ministry. Even escorts are expected to possess a certain level of poshness."
"Oh, don't you worry about that," Benjamin replied as he clicked the pen closed. "You know, I was an escort of sorts for Molly Weasley during the Second War."
"Yes, I know. She speaks fondly of you, actually."
Benjamin smirked at the remark. He had hoped she spoke fondly of him. She was his gopher boy during the time he spent with her; whatever she needed, he was sure to get it done as soon as possible. From visiting the Alley for supplies, to clearing the garden of gnomes, and simply providing warm companionship. She was an honest woman who would speak her mind but would do well to not make one feel targeted.
Hermione and Benjamin continued with general conversation for another fifteen minutes, both sipping on their drinks. Hermione asked Benjamin for a tour of the apartment; a question that caused him to chortle.
"What a funny request. You're looking at it, Hermione," Benjamin said jokingly.
"Benjamin, I haven't left this chair since I got here. Your living room is behind me and it's dark," she replied back teasingly.
He raised one of his eyebrows at her. "It sounds like you want to see my bedroom," he replied with a hint of flirtation in his timbre.
Hermione felt her face flush, and quickly shook her head to repress any sensual thoughts that had begun to creep into her cranium.
"I'm just curious, honestly. You don't have to..."
Benjamin stood up from his chair, the wooden legs scratching against the wood floor as he pushed it behind him with his legs. He flipped on the light to the living room to reveal a fairly open space.
There was a small couch (smaller than a full-size couch, though, bigger than a loveseat), a television, a punching bag, and a guitar and keyboard up against a wall. There was a large, semi-stained rug on the floor that had American southwestern-style patterning.
"It's not much," Benjamin went on, "but it's better than nothing."
"Do you play?" Hermione asked as she motioned towards the musical instruments.
He shrugged, "Just a bit." He walked over to the old French doors and opened one of them to show her the balcony.
It wasn't a fancy view at all; the first thing you'd see would be the other low-income housing options across the street. Taller buildings could be seen in the distance. Sounds of tires squealing, children hollering, and music bumping could he heard up into the apartment. It was a lowly neighborhood but it was not quiet and lacking in liveliness.
Benjamin tapped on Hermione's shoulder as she was standing on the balcony. When she turned, he motioned with his head to follow him. He took her through the small kitchen and into the door directly in front of them, connected to the right-side wall from the entryway of the abode.
He flipped on that light and Hermione was met with even less clutter than she expected.
The bedroom was incredibly small and she almost felt bad for Benjamin. All that the room contained was a bed, nightstand, tall dresser, tv, and lawn chair. Some small knick-knacks lined the top of the dresser and the tv was on a stand with shelves that housed some Playstation 2 games.
Benjamin squeezed by her through the narrow doorway, brushing up against her smaller frame as he did. She caught a whiff of him as he went by. He sat slowly on the bed, his shoulders slumped and hands together in his lap. As she looked down at him, he looked upwards and met her gaze. She looked down at her attire which screamed "high end business professional" and realized how out of place she looked. Hermione began to have feelings of discomfort and anxiety.
"Do you want to leave?"
She shook her head and halfway tossed her arms up. She rolled her eyes at her own dramatics and she said, "I don't know, honestly."
And she didn't. She didn't know what she wanted. There was still enough time that she could stay like her inside were screaming at her to do but her brain was rattling with self-conscious expectations.
"Do you need help deciding?"
Her head snapped to face his. "What?"
She looked deeply into his eyes and saw the color mahogany. Warm — yet strong and resilient.
"Well, you said you don't know if you want to leave. Maybe I can help you figure that out. We're partners now, right?"
Hermione watched Benjamin as he spoke. She took in how his eyes watched her just as intently, and how his voice softened as he offered her assistance. She felt some tension leave her but still she stood in the doorway to his room, one of her hands fiddling with a button on her overcoat.
The sound of Benjamin released a quick sigh knocked her from her train of thought.
"We can play some games or we can talk about this upcoming mission — which I am actually bewildered you offered to me, by the way. Or, I can walk you outside to your car if you're ready to get home."
Awkwardly, she walked over towards the tv stand and picked up the stack of games, looking them over one at a time. She stopped on one and showed him the case.
"This is horrible, by the way." It was Grand Theft Auto. Benjamin chuckled under his breath as she stopped once more and held it out to him.
"Show me this one, if you don't mind."
Benjamin smiled, walking around her to put the disc in the tray. He sat at the edge of the bed and she sat in the chair while it sat beside him. The game started up and she briefed him on their mission as she watched him go through levels on the video game.
Around eleven, they bid their goodbyes. Benjamin showered before bed, staring at the chair she sat in and listening to the lull of Chopin's Nocturne on the radio as he fell asleep.