It has been far too long since I updated. Without any further ado: chapter 2.
It had been years since Hermione had been back at Hogwarts; the last time had been her graduation, but that felt like eons ago. She pictured herself in the Great Hall, hearing her professors speak over the class one last time before leading them to the boats that would ferry them back across the lake-symbolic of the first time they'd crossed it as first years. Hogwarts had been an invaluable education, but Hermione hadn't been too sad to leave it behind; Albus had been training her for something much bigger, and she always was one for a challenge.
Seeing it now was odd. It all seemed a little smaller than she remembered, filled with both nostalgia and strangeness alike. But perhaps she had just outgrown it. She wanted to walk the halls, watch the students as they flitted animatedly between classes and be reminded of her school days: lunches with Harry and Luna, getting drunk together in the Ravenclaw common room, making fun of Lockhart's vapid charm and complete incompetence. Though Luna had been in Hufflepuff and Harry in Gryffindor, both used to joke that Hermione was more of a Slytherin than a Ravenclaw.
"I am not!" She would protest.
"Hermione, dear, the very fact that you could choose to adapt yourself and belong to a house most fit for your survival is the most Slytherin thing I've ever seen." Luna's eyes were bright with humor.
But they'd been right. She'd done what it took to survive from the minute she'd run away from her last foster home, and she never stopped. Now, looking up at the giant castle from her position outside the wards where she'd Portkeyed, she felt that same thrill. This was one last bid for survival, and then she could live. Her body almost vibrated with it.
Albus had arranged for her to use two Portkeys: one to get her to the wards outside Hogwarts, and one to bring her directly to the Room of Requirement. The second Portkey had been tricky enough that Albus hadn't wanted Hermione to risk it all the way from France, so he'd hidden it in a tree hollowed out by lightning just outside the grounds.
Hermione focused on swallowing her anticipation and searched the tree, where she uncovered a simple green apple. Once she touched it, she immediately found herself outside of the stone hallway where the Room of Requirement was hidden. Like always, the hallway was deserted. Better that way. She wasn't sure if any students knew about the Room, but it wouldn't do to have the Order's operations exposed by an overly curious teenager. Though they didn't think of themselves that way, they were-for all intents and purposes-criminals.
We're simply using people's own desires against them, Albus used to say. They should know better. You never really get what you want.
She raised a hand to the stone, marveling at the motion she'd repeated for years while a student. It had been almost seven years since then. However, she barely had to think before her lips began moving.
"I wish for the Phoenix," she whispered. "Give me the Phoenix."
With flair, a doorway bloomed into existence, its ornate decorations spiraling outward from where her hand had been until finally it reached an outline marking the entryway. The door swung open as soon as Hermione pushed.
She smiled at the cleanliness of the room, taking in the perfectly organized bookshelves to the left-and there were many, many bookshelves-the stacks of paper being magically filed in cabinets to the right, the stone under her feet that practically shone. Creature of habit, Albus was. Never a hair out of place.
"Hermione!"
She turned and saw Luna hurrying toward her, her pale blonde friend clothed in an emerald green evening gown that swayed elegantly around her body as she walked. Luna's hair was elegantly braided behind her head, and the diamond earrings she wore dangled almost to her shoulders.
"Luna!" Hermione smiled. "Is there a ball that I'm unaware of?"
Luna smiled as she approached the brunette, throwing her arms around her friend tightly.
"Unfortunately, yes."
"Unfortunately?" Hermione threw her hands out, as if telling Luna to look at herself. "You look stunning."
Luna's bright red lips twisted into what could've been a smile, if Hermione hadn't grown up with her. "That's the job, yes."
Hermione's own lips pursed. "Oh." Had Albus started assigning men to Luna to marry? He'd promised her he wouldn't. "Who's the lucky bastard?"
"Zabini," replied Luna, studying her emerald nails that shimmered under the soft lights. "And Nott. Greengrass. Lestrange. Black."
"How could you possibly marry-"
"Not marry. Use. For information, however I need to get it."
Merlin. It hit Hermione, and she felt a knot in her stomach. Albus had Luna seducing men, not to marry them, but to warm their beds and learn their secrets.
"How long?" she asked.
"Until you finish the job and we take Malfoy and the Sacred Twenty-Eight," Luna said. Her face had gone neutral, all indication of her personal feelings on the matter shuttered away behind her perfectly made-up face. "So you better hurry up. Those Pureblood men posture like peacocks, and if I have to listen to much more polite conversation at cocktail parties I'm going to smash my champagne glass over someone's head."
Hermione let out a laugh, the hollow feeling retreating as she felt Luna's manner change. Luna would handle this, like always. She had nothing to worry about except her own job.
"I'll try," she replied. "Do I get to at least wear a pretty dress like you?"
"Oh, even better," Luna said, winking.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me."
Hermione's voice was deadpan as she surveyed the wardrobe that had been picked for her-by whom, she didn't know. Albus had many stylists in his employ, all tailoring outfits specifically to each character she played on each job. As Adalene du Rand, she'd been all frilly pastel blouses and linen pants. Before that, she'd been in leggings and tight shirts as an equestrian instructor in Spain.
But this.
There were only two colors in this closet: black and white. Okay, maybe that was a flash of khaki in the back, but every blouse, skirt, pair of pants or shoes, and blazer was either black or white. The wizarding robes were the same.
"Apparently Albus wanted you to look professional." Hermione could hear Luna snickering.
"But Astoria Greengrass was a socialite, and she dressed like it," Hermione stated, still staring at the duotone clothing. "This is so plain."
"Must I remind you that Malfoy dumped Greengrass? You're playing it safe, acting like you're absolutely not trying to get his attention romantically. He's not looking for another socialite, I bet my dirigible plum earrings on it."
Hermione let out a long sigh, knowing Luna was right. Still, she couldn't help but be extremely disappointed by the lack of color in this wardrobe. She'd gotten to be many different people with many different styles, and this might just have been her least favorite so far.
When she turned back to her friend, Luna had her elegant arms crossed over her decolletage, still stifling a chuckle.
"Oh, go shove your wand up your bum," Hermione grumbled, brushing past Luna and heading back to the coffee table in the center of the room.
Next to the giant office the Room of Requirement created for the Order of the Phoenix, there was a preparation room that reminded Hermione very much of a dressing room before a performance. Several vanity mirrors with lights and chairs were placed against the wall, and there was one wardrobe-the one currently housing all her boring, matronly outfits-that changed depending on the team and the job. Hermione, Luna, and Harry were usually a package deal; they'd worked on jobs together for years, ever since graduating Hogwarts. Albus had noticed early on how she'd gravitated toward them, had observed their shrewdness and lack of moral qualms, and had offered them jobs upon graduation.
Hermione could tell upon entering the dressing room that both Harry and Luna had been there at some point-there were Harry's extra pair of glasses sitting on one of the vanities, and Luna's jumpers were scattered over the backs of every chair and sofa in the room.
Lying on the coffee table was Hermione's job file, and she picked it up to leaf through it again before sitting on the couch. As she flipped past the page with Draco Malfoy's name and picture, she couldn't help the resentful burning feeling in her chest. Privileged wanker, she thought.
She kept skipping until she found her own section.
Olivia Marie Selwyn
Daughter of Orla and Lysander Selwyn
Pureblood
Occupation: Healer
Lived in Paris after graduating from Beauxbatons Academy for Girls and worked as a Healer for the Wizarding Hospital of Paris for seven years. Parents passed away soon after graduation due to an unfortunate splinching accident on holiday. Currently returning to London quietly in order to work. Is reluctant to socialize because of lack of familiarity with the English social scene.
There was much more information, but the general backstory Hermione was confident she could become well-versed in. She, as Olivia Selwyn, would be a health consultant for the British Ministry of Magic's Health Affairs Division, helping them to rebuild St. Mungo's system and overall structure to make it more efficient and cost-effective. It was no secret that the Ministry was becoming more financially desperate, its Minister unable to raise enough support since she was a Halfblood; some of the more conservative and influential members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight refused to support the Ministry until a Pureblood was in power. Thus, Minister Lufkin had been forced to cut costs wherever she could, and it just so happened that wizarding healthcare was at the top of her list.
Hermione knew enough about Pureblood society to get around, and any eccentricities on her part could be simply chalked up to foreign quirks, since Olivia Selwyn had grown up in France. She'd also been trained by Albus as a Healer during one of her first jobs, so this wouldn't be incredibly difficult. So why did she feel so nervous?
"Harry and I will both be around," Luna said, gathering the skirts of her dress so she could sit next to Hermione on the couch by the coffee table. "His role will be in the Ministry itself, but I'm not allowed to know where. You'll see me every once in a while at society events, but we're not meant to be friends. No one can know we're connected."
"Got it." Hermione still felt a pang in her heart at the thought. How many more times would she be able to see Luna? "Listen, I have to tell you-"
"I know," Luna said, reaching out and placing her pale hand on Hermione's arm that held her job file. "Harry told me this morning. You're getting out." She gave a little smile and squeezed Hermione's arm. "I'm happy for you."
Hermione's eyes filled with tears. "Would you ever come with me?"
Luna shook her head. "This is my life," she said, though she spoke slowly enough that Hermione wondered if she really believed it.
The women sat together in silence after that, Hermione moving her arm so that Luna's hand was grasping her own instead.
She didn't have a sister, but she felt like this must be close enough. Hermione let herself feel the worry, the sadness, the anxiety for a few minutes more before she shoved it back and locked it down. They had one last job to do, and she'd make damn sure she wasn't the one to screw it up.
Hermione grumpily pulled at the collar of her crisp white blouse as she strutted toward the board room. Her heels clicked on the uncarpeted tiled floor and echoed obnoxiously down the hallway. On top of that, her black skirt was just long enough that it shortened her steps, her legs unable to move in their normal rhythm.
This is ridiculous, she thought. I could've looked professional and uninteresting enough in pants.
She'd woken up this morning and brushed her enchanted comb through her hair, its magic giving her chocolate hair some highlights and thoroughly straightening it so it looked sleek and polished. Once she put on some makeup, she didn't even recognize herself in the mirror. She never wore her hair straight, and immediately missed her natural bushy curls. Olivia Selwyn, however, always looked put-together, and Hermione would just have to put aside all her natural inclinations. All part of the job.
She was alone in the building, the healthcare wing at the Ministry suspiciously empty for a Monday morning. She expected to see it bustling with administrators, but perhaps budget cuts had gotten so bad that those administrators had been furloughed or laid off.
Hermione finally reached the frosted glass doors of the conference room at the end of the hall. She heard faint voices from inside and steeled herself, imagining Olivia settling into her bones. She was Olivia now. With a faint smile on her lips that she hoped looked Pureblood-confident enough, she placed her hand on the handle and pulled-
-just as someone pushed from the other side. Hermione stumbled back on instinct as the door burst open, and felt something burning hot on her chest. She gave a little shriek at the sensation at the same time as she heard a grunt from whoever had opened the door.
Looking down, Hermione saw a hand frozen in mid-air, a coffee cup clutched in it even as most of its contents dripped down her new white blouse. It had gone from scalding to warm on her skin, but the embarrassment burned hot in her cheeks.
Looking up, Hermione met grey eyes that she'd seen staring out at her from his profile picture for over a week now. They'd looked like clouds right before a storm then, but all she could see now was the shock they held.
Draco Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy fortune, was standing half-out of the conference room with his jaw hanging open in surprise, his eyes on the growing stain on the white cloth.
"Shite," he mumbled under his breath. "I'm incredibly sorry, I didn't realize-"
"No, no." Hermione said, even as her hands hovered helplessly in the air. "It was my fault, I shouldn't have pulled so hard."
She reached for her wand, hoping to scourgify herself and get rid of the embarrassing stain marring her blouse, but Malfoy beat her to it.
"Oh no, please, let me," he said, pulling his wand from his suit sleeve and giving it a flick in her direction. Immediately the coffee stain vanished, as did the sliding feeling of it dripping between her breasts. "It's the least I can do."
"Thank you," Hermione murmured, attempting to retain her dignity as Draco Malfoy pulled the door open wide, holding it for her so she could enter the conference room.
Internally, she rolled her eyes. Of course she'd make a fool of herself in front of her target before they'd even introduced themselves. Now he wouldn't remember her as Olivia Selwyn, mysterious new edition to British Pureblood society, but Olivia Selwyn, the girl who he'd accidentally met looking like a coffee-drowned cat.
She straightened her back, walking past Draco and entering the room. Her eyes landed on the other occupants: a golden-haired man sipping his own coffee and peering amusedly over the rim; a dark-skinned man dressed in a bright pink suit slouched in his chair, studying his nails and looking incredibly bored; and Harry Potter, standing at the front of the room, looking striking in a suit and leaning back against one of the large windows overlooking Wizarding London.
She blinked at the sight of her friend, but quickly schooled the look into one of indifference.
"Gentlemen," she greeted, taking a seat next to the dark-skinned man. "I apologize for the disturbance."
"It was my fault," Draco said as he closed the door behind them. His mouth quirked and he suddenly looked more like his picture. "Seems I have a habit of making wonderful first impressions."
"First year," the dark-skinned man said, leaning in and whispering to her conspiratorially, "he shook my hand too hard and accidentally sprained my pinky finger."
"Introduced himself to me and wiped out on the Great Hall steps," the golden-haired man seconded, grinning at Malfoy who shook his head and rolled his eyes.
"Well, at least you're consistent," Hermione remarked, leaning back in her chair and shooting Draco a friendly smile. He returned it, taking a seat across from her and next to the other blond man.
"Draco Malfoy," he introduced himself. "Financial consultant for the Ministry and this task force."
"Pleasure," Hermione replied. "Olivia Selwyn, contracted health consultant."
"Theodore Nott," the golden-haired man offered. "You can call me Theo."
"Blaise Zabini," the dark-skinned man said, flashing his teeth. "You can call me anything you like: magnificent, glorious, sexy-"
"Stop flirting with anything that walks, Blaise," Theo chided.
Blaise leaned back in his chair, properly cowed. "Worth a shot."
"We're old friends from Hogwarts," Draco explained. "After we graduated, we started a consulting business and have been assisting the Ministry on a case-by-case basis ever since."
Hermione was suddenly struck by the fact that they'd all gone to Hogwarts; in fact, they'd all graduated the same year if she'd done her math right. Thank Merlin Albus had had the foresight to shield Luna, Harry, and herself from recognition by those they'd gone to school with. She'd never interacted with these trio of Slytherins, but they were intelligent enough to unravel the whole charade if she let anything slip.
"I'm James Evans," Harry said from the front of the room, moving from the window and going to sit down at the head of the table. "Department supervisor. I'm here on behalf of the Ministry."
All of the men and Hermione murmured greetings back. Hermione couldn't help but wonder how Harry had managed to become a department supervisor for the Ministry so quickly. Hadn't the job only begun a week ago? There were no amount of Imperius curses that could've given him that much power in such a short time. She made a note to ask him later.
"Thank you all for making time to join me today. We won't be visiting St. Mungo's for a few more days, but I wanted you to have all the information you'll need as we move forward with the project." Harry snapped his fingers, and a stack of files appeared in the center of the conference table. Theo, Draco, and Blaise all reached for one, but before Hermione could lean forward Blaise was handing her a file with an impish grin. Theo glared at him across the table.
Hermione opened her file-remembering vividly doing this with the file of the man across from her not an hour ago-and studied the first page. It was a layout of the goals of the Ministry, the budget, and the overall concerns.
"I am your resource," Harry continued. "Anything you need clearance for, let me know. Any questions about the budget or about the Ministry's vision, come to me. Oh, and if for any reason you are contacted by the Daily Prophet, it is in your contract to direct them immediately to me. Along with being your supervisor, I am also the PR liaison for the Ministry."
"This is all we get to work with?" Draco asked incredulously, his light eyebrows arching as he stared down at the page. "There's absolutely no way we can make any sort of meaningful change with this amount."
"The Ministry is tightening its britches, as it were. I'm afraid any other money for the project will have to be raised or borrowed." Harry's voice was full of regret. Hermione felt a tinge of admiration at how well he took on the role of administrator. Had she not seen him fully wine-drunk on her couch shedding tears over Pretty Woman just under a year ago, she would've been completely sold on his performance.
"Well some of us certainly know how to throw a good fundraiser, don't we?" Blaise asked, directing his question at his two companions.
"That's actually not a bad idea-" Theo said, leaning forward.
"Shocking, coming from Blaise," Draco added.
"-We could host an event and attempt to sway some donors into supporting the hospital renovations."
"Most attendees won't be likely to support, if they're Purebloods," Hermione said. "Quite a few of the Twenty-Eight don't like the Minister's politics, much less any of her philanthropic endeavors."
"We're sitting right here," Blaise sniffed.
Hermione let herself blush. "I'm not trying to be offensive. I'm simply stating the obvious: we have to invite a larger pool of socialites in order to raise the funds we need."
She felt Draco's eyes on her. He would've said the same thing, most likely, given his professional history with others outside of his blood status. Good. Now he was paying attention to her.
"You're right," Draco said, and Hermione made eye contact. "Appealing solely to Purebloods won't get us the money, and perhaps the knowledge that Halfbloods and Muggleborns will be known for their contributions to St. Mungo's could loosen the purse strings of the Twenty Eight a bit."
Hermione just gave him a small smile, then quickly looked away.
"We could host it at mine?" Theo offered, raising his arms and lacing his fingers behind his head. There was something so casual about him, so at ease. It made her want to settle back into her chair as though she was only having lunch with a few friends. "My parents don't involve themselves much these days, including politics. It could be neutral ground, comfortable for both the Purebloods and any others."
"Good idea," Draco replied. "What if we did a Christmas Ball? Most people are more generous around the holidays anyway, and everyone wants to be seen dressed up in festive attire out and about at society events. We could host it a few days before, as one last bash of the year."
Everyone nodded their agreement, and it fell silent as they all gathered their thoughts.
"These are all wonderful ideas," Harry said, ever the mediator. "Let me know if I can help."
"You can use your position at the Ministry to get the word out," Hermione suggested. "Bureaucrats wanting to keep their jobs under the current Minister will be extremely likely to support any project of hers."
"You sure know a lot about politics for a Healer," Blaise grumbled goodnaturedly.
Hermione didn't deign to respond and rolled her eyes instead.
"Why don't we all meet at mine next week to discuss all this further?" Blaise continued. "We can have tea out back and I can get Nibley to make those wonderful scones of hers while we talk about raising money for dying people."
"Way to be sensitive, Blaise," Theo drawled.
"Who's Nibley?" Hermione asked.
"House elf," Blaise replied offhandedly, eyes glazing over.
"Works for me," Draco said, sliding his hand forward to pick up his empty coffee cup and file. "Will you owl us?"
Blaise's eyes were still unfocused, his attention clearly elsewhere. Theo rapped on the table with his knuckles.
"Bet you 50 galleons he's thinking about those scones."
Blaise shook his head. "Oh, yes. Quite. I'll have an owl out to each of you this afternoon with the date and time."
"You all enjoy your scones," Harry said, gracefully bowing out. "Since I'm being loaned to you, so to speak, I unfortunately have other projects to attend to. But do feel free to owl me with any questions or concerns."
With the meeting at a seemingly good stopping point, they all rose, murmuring platitudes and heading in the direction of the door. Hermione stalled for a few seconds, waiting until the Slytherins exited the room before turning to Harry.
"Good work," he said vaguely, holding his own file in his hand. "We'll be in touch soon, I presume?"
"Of course, thank you. It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Evans." Hermione couldn't keep the smile out of her voice. If Albus was going to let him use both of his parents' names as his character, she would make damn sure to tease him about it.
"The pleasure is mine, Ms. Selwyn." Harry's eyes narrowed, but she just brushed airily past him and out the glass door.
As she set off down the hallway, she smiled to herself. The beginning was always the most fun.
Freedom, she imagined with every click of her heels on the tile. She could hear the three Slytherins' voices from far ahead, echoing in the stairwell leading to the ground floor. Freedom. Freedom. Freedom.
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