Chapter 3 – Who's That Girl?

'So, if we're going to take this approach, we're going to need a stalking horse,' said Hermione, tapping her pen against her notebook with one hand, twirling her hair with the other as she glanced over her notes. Harry smiled as he looked at her.

He thought she was simply amazing.

It wasn't just her evident beauty, or her obvious intelligence, nor her compassion and her humanity. It wasn't even how she mesmerised him when she unconsciously played with her hair like she was right at this moment. Nor was it the way her whole countenance lit up when she was pleased, amused, or intrigued by something. It was all of these things, yet it was none of them.

He also loved her preference for muggle objects and found this to be one of her more endearing features. It wasn't that she was against magical technology, it was just that she selected what she believed to be the best option. In her eyes, a ball point pen was much better than a quill and he found it hard to disagree. He found the simplest things about her utterly enchanting.

He also found that he couldn't take his eyes off her. She was absolutely captivating.

'Harry? I said, we're going to need a stalking horse.'

He shook himself back into the moment. 'Sorry, Hermione. I was just thinking about something else there. A stalking horse? Why?'

'When was the last time you sat in your Wizengamot seat?'

'The day I was sworn in. I haven't been back since. Percy Weasley acts as my proxy.'

'Exactly,' Hermione replied. 'The fact that you are attending a session will be news. People will be wondering why you're attending. If you raise this issue from nowhere, it will be scrutinised to death. We don't want them looking too closely at what you're actually asking for. We want them to focus on the decoy.'

'So, we need someone else to introduce the topic?'

'Yes. Preferably someone the more traditional elements won't suspect. Have anyone in mind?'

Harry thought about potential options for a few moments before a slow smile crept onto his face. 'I think I might. I'll need to speak to a few people, but I should know within a day or two.' He held his had up to forestall her next question. 'I'll let you know who if he agrees.'

She nodded her acceptance before looking back down at her notes. 'What else were you thinking about?' she asked suddenly.

'What?'

'You said you were thinking about something else? I was just curious. You don't have to tell me,' she added, her voice getting smaller.

'Oh. It was nothing really. I was just…I was just thinking how much I like the fact you are happier using non-magical equipment. Like your pen and pad. Have you always done that?'

She looked at the ballpoint pen in her hand. 'I have whenever possible. At school and university, they insisted I use quill and parchment. It's so archaic. It's ridiculous! They are so certain of the superiority of magic that they refuse to admit that some non-magical solutions are actually better.'

'I know. It took me a while to adjust too,' he replied.

She seemed surprised. 'Were you not raised with any magic? I know you were brought up by your aunt, but isn't she magical?'

He shook his head, amused and please at her lack of knowledge about his early life. 'No. I was raised by my muggle relatives. My mum was the only magical person in her family until I came along. I attended a muggle Primary school. I didn't even know magic existed until my 11th birthday.'

'Really? That's amazing. I had no idea! But that's great! It means you can navigate the non-magical world if you have to.'

'I can. I'm actually quite comfortable in the muggle world. In many, many respects, I prefer it. For one thing, no one knows who I am in the muggle world and that's great.' He paused a moment before continuing. 'What about you? How come you ended up in France?'

'My gran is French, so my family does have roots there. To be honest, I don't know the exact reason, but I think it might have been financial. We moved there when I was very little, and I think my parents were both finding it hard to get regular work in Britain. The early Eighties was a tough time economically for a lot of people.'

'What do they do for a living?' he asked, genuinely curious.

'They're both dentists. They have their own practice now; they have done for years. But they couldn't get anything regular in Britain after they qualified. But then shortly after moving to France, my dad got a position at a surgery. About a year later, the owner of the practice retired and sold out to my mum and dad. I think it was tough for them at first because they had to work long hours to pay back the bank loan they took out to buy the other guy out. I don't blame them, but it meant I didn't see much of them when I was little. My gran looked after me a lot.'

'No siblings?'

'No. Just me. Don't get me wrong. I love my parents and we have a great relationship now, but it wasn't always so good. My childhood was quite…lonely.'

'Mine too. At least, it was before I went to Hogwarts,' Harry replied softly.

'You said your aunt brought you up?' asked Hermione is a small voice. She knew he was an orphan and wasn't sure how comfortable he was speaking about such matters.

Harry grimaced. 'Yeah. I lived with my Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon and my cousin Dudley.'

'And they were muggles?' She had not missed his grimace when mentioning his relatives. Something was definitely off there.

'They were. My mum was muggleborn. Petunia was her sister.' He smiled suddenly, surprising her. 'From what little I know of my mum, I think she'd have liked you.'

Hermione felt a warmth flood through her. 'Why do you say that?'

'People who knew her said she was really, really smart and that she always fought for the underdog. I think she'd like what we're doing here. At least, I'd like to think she'd approve.'

'I'm sure she would,' Hermione replied warmly. 'I'm sure she'd be proud of you too. A teacher? That's a very noble profession.'

He smiled broadly at this comment. He'd half expected her to mention his actions in the late war, but he was coming to appreciate that Hermione Granger seemed to understand what was important to him. He also got the impression that education was important to her too.

'Thank you,' he finally replied. 'That…means a lot for you to say that. I think my mum loved learning. Another thing the two of you have in common, I reckon. You must have went to university to study Law after Beauxbatons? What was that like? I always wanted to go to university.'

He'd tried to sound nonchalant when asking this, but when he saw her reaction to his question he found it hard to maintain his composure. She seemed to fold in on herself and looked away, refusing to meet his eye.

'I'm sorry!' he blurted out. 'I didn't mean to upset you. I was just curious. I'm sorry if I've touched a nerve.'

'It's OK, Harry,' she finally replied. 'It's not your fault.' She seemed to gather her thoughts. 'For the majority of my time there, it was wonderful. I was learning amazing things and doing so with people who were just as interested in learning as I was. Then someone I really trusted…betrayed me. It soured the whole experience for me. I…I still find it hard to talk about. I still find it hard to trust, to be honest.'

'Then don't say another word,' he replied softly. 'I'm sorry for bringing it up.' And he was sorry. Truly, truly, sorry. When he realised how much his question had upset her, he felt like a right bastard. He leaned forward and gently touched her shoulder until she looked at him.

'Seriously, Hermione. I didn't mean to upset you or dredge up bad memories. I guess…I guess I just want to get to know you better? To find out more about you. I've only known you for a short time and already I feel connected to you, you know?'

She smiled warmly at him. 'I do know, Harry. I feel exactly the same. Don't worry about upsetting me. It's not your fault. It's just that ever since then, I've been wary of people. Of relationships. The funny thing is, I don't feel that about you. I…I trust you, Harry.'

He bestowed his own smile in return, 'I'll do everything in my power to maintain that trust, Hermione,' he replied softly. 'If you ever do want to talk about it, I'm here to listen. And just so you know; I feel exactly the same about you.'

They sat staring at each other for a few moments, both enjoying the connection that was undeniably forming between them. Finally, Hermione broke the contact.

'Let's get back to work. I need to come up with a plan for your stalking horse,' she said with a sly smile.

Harry smiled back, knowing that things were subtly different between them. They were forging a connection. They were becoming friends.

And hopefully something more, he thought to himself as he turned his attention back to his notes.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Hermione tried to contain the feeling of nervousness she was experiencing as she walked next to Harry through the atrium of the Ministry of Magic. Although it was still quite early on a Saturday morning, the Ministry was busy, and their presence attracted a lot of attention.

At least, Harry's presence does, anyway. They probably don't even see me.

Harry looked as focussed as ever and was not even acknowledging the attention, save for a few greetings he returned from people he obviously knew. The only time he'd become animated was when a photographer had taken his picture just after they'd come through the security desk. Harry had given the man a look that would have made a basilisk proud, but he had not said anything, instead electing to move on quietly.

When did my life become so complicated? she asked herself in bemusement as she thought over the chain of events that had led to this point.

She was now used to Harry showing up early at their "Headquarters" as he'd taken to calling her shop and flat, but on this particular Saturday, he'd told her in a nonchalant tone that they were "…going to see Kingsley."

It had taken a moment for his words to sink in. While "going to see Kingsley" might be a regular occurrence for Harry, she was certainly not used to having an audience with the British Minister for Magic. The fact that he'd given her absolutely no notice whatsoever didn't help the situation either.

When she'd finally managed to gather herself, she'd asked why they were going to see the Minister for Magic first thing on a Saturday morning.

'Because we're going to be attempting to change the Law on House Elf rights, Hermione. Kingsley will support this, so we at least owe him the courtesy of telling him of our plans. Don't worry, he's an ex-Auror. He knows when to keep a secret. And he doesn't like being ambushed in the Wizengamot. Especially by those he considers friends.'

He'd said this as if it was the most obvious, unremarkable thing in the world, so she hadn't argued and instead had changed into something more appropriate for a meeting with the most powerful politician in Britain. After much deliberation, she'd settled on a sober business suit. While she was aware that it might be a little too "muggle" for some tastes, she felt comfortable wearing it. She also dressed to please herself, not others.

Besides. Harry is wearing muggle clothes too. Just a little more casual that mine.

So, this was why she now found herself with Harry Potter, approaching the office for the Minister for Magic dressed in her best business suit, wondering how her life had taken such a turn in such a short space of time.

They finally arrived at an office at the end of the corridor, and she hid her surprise as Harry walked straight in without knocking.

'Morning, Susan. Is the boss in?' Harry asked jovially, and Hermione could tell there was genuine affection in his voice.

'Morning, Harry. Yes, he's in. He said just to go straight on in when you get here,' replied a very attractive red-haired witch of around their own age, sitting behind a wooden desk in what was clearly an outer office and who was now looking directly at her with a curious expression. 'Aren't you going to introduce me, Harry?'

'Sorry, Susan. Forgive my lack of manners,' Harry replied easily. 'Susan, this is Hermione Granger, a legal adviser and friend of mine. Hermione? This is Susan Bones, Kingsley's assistant, and an old friend from Hogwarts. No matter what anyone says, Susan really runs this place. Kingsley does exactly what he's told.'

'It's very nice to meet you, Miss Granger,' said Susan, standing to offer her hand.

'Oh, please call me Hermione,' she replied as she shook hands, smiling as she did so. Part of her was smiling in greeting, but the main cause of her pleasure was Harry introducing her as his friend. 'A friend of Harry's is a friend of mine,' she added, and she was pleased to see Susan smile at her words.

'Only if you call me Susan,' she replied. 'I'd like to speak a little with you later, if that's ok, Hermione, but it's best not to keep the Minister waiting. He really is the boss, despite what Harry may say. He seems to forget sometimes,' she added, nodding towards Harry but her tone was amused.

Harry just laughed at her words, but she did notice that he knocked on the door rather than walk straight in. Despite his casualness, Harry clearly had respect for the man sitting behind the door and this was very telling because as far as she could make out from her brief knowledge of him, Harry didn't like any politicians, save one or two very notable exceptions. That Kingsley was clearly an exception spoke well of his character.

'Come in!' barked a voice and she was jolted from her musings at the words.

She followed Harry into an office that she found to be rather spartan considering the prestige of the office holder. A few pictures on the wall, a couple of chairs – not much else. But standing in front of a large desk waiting to greet them was a very imposing figure. Tall, handsome, muscular and with a single gold hooped earing, he would stand out in just about any crowd. But as she examined his eyes, she saw a shrewdness there; a hardness that suggested that here was a man not to be trifled with. It was easy to believe that this man was an ex-Auror, that he was a war hero. She was beginning to understand why Harry clearly respected this particular politician.

'Harry! Great to see you!' exclaimed Kingsley with a wide smile as he stepped forward and embraced the younger man. Given this was the first time she'd seen Harry make physical contact with anyone, this came as something as a surprise.

Clearly the respect is mutual, she thought to herself.

'Good to see you too, Shack,' Harry replied after accepting the embrace. He turned to face her. 'I'd like to introduce you to a friend of mine. This is Hermione Granger, the lawyer I have been telling you about.'

Despite her resolve not to, she blushed under their combined scrutiny. These were arguably the two most powerful and famous men in Magical Britain, and they were both regarding her with respect.

'Miss Granger?' began Kingsley, offering his hand. 'It's a real pleasure to finally meet you. Harry speaks very well of you.'

Her blush deepened. 'Thank you, Minister. It's an honour to meet you,' she replied, shaking his hand as she did so.

'Oh, none of that "Minister" nonsense. Please, call me Kingsley. Harry leads me to believe that we will be working closely together, so I insist on informality when we don't have an audience.'

She smiled at his words. 'Only if you call me Hermione,' she replied.

'Deal!' laughed Kingsley. 'Now please be seated, both of you,' he added as he gestured towards two comfy looking chairs next to his desk. He took his own seat and lifted a teapot from a tray.

'Tea?'

She grimaced, despite the situation and Kingsley laughed at her response.

'Coffee then?' he asked with a knowing look at Harry, who knew she despised tea.

'Yes please,' she replied, relaxing into her seat. She watched as the Minister for Magic poured three cups of hick, black coffee from a silver pot. To her surprise, he then opened a small salt cellar, took a pinch, and sprinkled it into his coffee. He then repeated the exercise for Harry.

'Salt? In coffee?' she asked, one eyebrow raised.

Kingsley smiled. 'When I was assigned to protect the muggle Prime Minister, the security guy I worked with was a retired Royal Navy man and he suggested it. A lot of sailors do it – it dampens the bitterness. You should try it.'

Hermione grimaced. 'No, thanks, I think I'll just have mine the traditional way.'

Kingsley laughed at her reaction before turning his attention to Harry. 'You asked to see me this morning, Harry. What can I do for you?'

'We don't need you to do anything. We just wanted to inform you that we're going to hijack the Property Taxation Bill that's being debated in the WIzengamot next week.'

'Hijack? With what?' asked the Minister.

'House Elves.'

'Elves? What about them? What have they got to do with the Property Taxation Bill?'

Harry didn't reply, instead he merely raised an eyebrow at his friend inviting him to continue. He watched as Kingsley furrowed his brow and considered what had been said.

'Property,' he finally whispered. He looked up sharply. 'You're not going to try and back door their freedom by having them classed as property, are you? That will never work.'

In lieu of a response, Harry merely looked to Hermione. She cleared her throat nervously.

'No, Minister. That's what we want them to think, but we all know that having all House Elves freed would not serve either the elves or us. But we want the Wizengamot to think that is our plan while we slip in some wording that seems trivial but could change everything.'

Kingsley was silent for a long moment as he tried to work out what they were up to. 'I told you to call me Kingsley,' he finally replied with a smile. 'And I'd appreciate it, Hermione, if you could elaborate on what it is you are actually planning to do. While I appreciate Harry's intelligence, subtlety has never been his strong suit, so I assume this plan is yours. Would you mind explaining it to me please?'

Hermione grinned in return. 'Not at all, Kingsley. I'd be happy to,' she replied.

Ten minutes later, it was a very thoughtful Kingsley Shacklebolt who sat musing on what he had heard and on the implications of Hermione's plan.

Harry's right. She is a genius.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Ginny Weasley settled into her favourite armchair in the living room of the Burrow and curled her legs up as she leant to one side. She was making one of her regular Sunday lunch visits to catch up with the rest of the Weasleys and to keep up to date with all of the goings on within the family. She loved her Sundays, but today she was feeling a little put out as one particular member of their extended "family" was not in attendance for the third week in a row.

Ron and her mum had both explained that Harry had sent his apologies, that he was particularly busy working on something political at the moment that was taking all of his free time and that he would be returning for his "favourite meal of the week" as soon as he could. Ginny didn't doubt any of this for one second, but she still felt a sense of unease that Harry was not in attendance. Since he began teaching at Hogwarts, she was seeing him less and less and she was now fearing that her dream of becoming Mrs Harry Potter was further away than ever.

After finally starting a relationship with the Boy-Who-Lived in her fifth year, she was sure that she had managed to snag him for good. Even when Harry broke up with her before going on the run with Ron for much of her sixth year, she still expected him to return to her once Voldemort was defeated.

But none of thar materialised. When he finally did triumph, he didn't want a relationship with me.

Said he saw me only as a sister.

Well, that was just the limit! She'd spent the next few years trying to convince him otherwise but the more she seemed to try, the more distant Harry seemed to become. She'd tried being his friend; she'd tried making him jealous by seeing other men. She'd tried to seduce him on several occasions.

Nothing had worked.

Her only consolation was that he hadn't settled into a serious relationship with another witch, although there had been one or two close calls that had required her to discreetly intervene to put the other girl off.

He'd come round, eventually.

She reached over to the coffee table and lifted her dad's copy of the Sunday Prophet and flicked open the fold to view the front page. Unsurprisingly, it was dominated by a photo of Harry – in this one he was passing through the Ministry Security checkpoint and judging by his expression, he wasn't best pleased at the photographer.

She skimmed over the article, noticing that it was nothing more than the usual speculation. Harry was going to talk to Kingsley about something or other, but it was clear the author didn't have a clue what they were actually meeting to discuss.

Not that I care about that anyway.

No, what caught her attention was the witch who was accompanying Harry through the checkpoint. It wasn't anyone she recognised, and she was always wary when any new woman appeared at Harry's side. She pulled the newspaper closer to further scrutinise the photo.

The witch in question was pretty enough, she supposed, if one liked their witches mousy. She was smartly dressed, but her outfit was more muggle than witch and she frowned. While no blood purist, Ginny did think some traditions were important, and entering the Ministry looking like a muggle was just not done.

That Harry was doing exactly the same thing was an inconvenient truth simply ignored for the moment.

She's not Harry's type. Too studious. Too academic. She looks far too straight-laced. Nothing to worry about.

But she is pretty…

'Ron?' she shouted towards the kitchen. 'Do you have a minute?'

After a few seconds, her brother popped his head round the door, clearly still chewing on what was left of the family lunch.

'What is it?' Ron asked after finally swallowing.

Ginny hesitated, not wanting to sound too curious. 'I was just wondering what Harry was up to at the Ministry yesterday. Has he said anything to you?'

Ron fought the urge to roll his eyes. He loved Ginny. He really did. But her obsession with his best friend was simply not healthy. Unfortunately, when it came to Harry, Ginny just could not see reason.

'No. He never said. Why?'

'I was just wondering. He made the Prophet again.' She paused. 'I was wondering who this witch is that's with him. Any ideas?' she asked as she held the newspaper towards him.

Ron took it from her and flicked it round so he could see the front page. His eyes were immediately drawn to the witch in the photo, and he just about managed to contain his response.

Harry's right. She is pretty.

He shook his head. 'I've never seen her before, Gin,' he replied truthfully. Well, I have never seen her before.

He looked thoughtful for a moment, wondering how much information he should reveal, but then decided that his sister would find out soon enough anyway. 'The only thing I can think of is that it might be that new lawyer he said he was working with?'

'New lawyer?'

'Yeah. I think she runs some sort of charity for House Elves, but don't quote me on that. In fact, don't mention that to anyone. I think Harry is planning something for the upcoming Wizengamot session and he'd be really pissed off if it leaked. But yeah; it might be the new lawyer. He certainly hasn't mentioned anyone else to me.'

Ginny felt a sense of relief at these words. It made sense. Though she found it a bit silly, she knew House Elves were important to Harry, Ron, and Neville. She also knew not to mention this to anyone because if she jeopardised Harry's plans by opening her mouth, he would be very upset with her. No, she would keep this to herself.

She reached up and took the paper back from Ron and looked again at the woman in the photo.

Professional, studious, boring. A nobody. Not Harry's type at all.

Nothing to worry about.

Probably.