Chapter 25: Hermione

Swear by the Moon

"Do not swear by the moon, for she changes constantly. Then your love would also change." ― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

Monday, July 23, 2007
Auror Office, Ministry for Magic

Granger, H. – Mail Inspection Duty

Hermione steeled herself, once again, for the mailroom.

Though she had made peace with her position in the DMLE, it remained demoralizing each day to quiet her desire to do more, pick up a pair of dragon hide gloves from the equipment room, and head into a windowless room to sort through all manner of jinxes and goos for dark and harmful magic.

Hermione's mood was buoyed by the positivity of her weekend. She and Lavender had spent Saturday and Sunday at Lavender and Ron's kitchen table, hunched over notes and sketches of robes, trousers, blouses, and dresses. By the evening yesterday, Hermione was buzzing with excitement. She gave Lavender a bag of galleons to get anything she needed to complete her visions, and though the witch had protested, Hermione insisted. Hermione had not paid rent since she moved in with Harry in November—and she had been sitting on her Order of Merlin money for many years. This would be her contribution to Lavender's burgeoning business.

It was no secret to anyone that Hermione had felt for her entire career as a student that Lavender was a bit … different from herself. They had personally clashed at Hogwarts, of course, but Hermione, beyond that, felt as though Lavender was not quite—well, clever. Hermione knew that was a facet of her youth and naiveté; if she learned anything over the teenage years, it was that book knowledge did not get you everywhere—was that not why she had devoted so much of her NEWT year not to study but to practical application? Hermione's ability to duel and cast had become as vital to her as her ability to retain vast amounts of knowledge.

Perhaps this was Hermione trying to make amends for her past feelings. In the end, Lavender accepted the money.

Hermione fetched the dragon hide gloves and steeled herself to the mailroom. She glanced at Zacharias Smith and Megan Wang, who were huddled together over a file as they walked into the largest interrogation room, which Hermione knew was set up to be the center of operations for the Night of Terror case. She felt a pang of longing.

Sighing deeply, Hermione turned toward the corridor that led to the lifts. She had just walked past the last DMLE office when she heard her name being called from over her shoulder.

"Granger, come over here."

Hermione stopped short and turned. Gawain Robards stood in the corridor by the DMLE reception desk, gesturing for her to follow him with a meaty hand. Heart beating with excitement, she rushed back toward the office—could mail duty be over? She dared not hope.

Robards meandered over to the open door of his office. When Hermione reached him, she glimpsed Harry sitting inside, wearing his determined smile—one of her favorite smiles.

"Hello, sir," Hermione greeted Robards before offering Harry a small wave. Her friend returned the wave, and then Robards asked her to sit down, which she did.

As the Head of the DMLE sat at his desk across from her and Harry, piercing her with a mysterious look from behind his gray mustache, Hermione wondered whether she had done something wrong for a moment. This felt eerily like receiving detention from Professor McGonagall.

"Granger," Robards's gruff voice began, "You've set the department up for success this month."

"I'm happy to have helped, sir."

"But," he continued, and Hermione braced herself for a reprimand or some other punishment—for what she did not know. Then, Robards said, "You don't belong in the mailroom."

Hermione blinked, and then a pang of confusion accompanied a cautious glimmer of hope in her chest.

"I'm happy to help wherever I can," she replied. Beside her, Harry let out a barely perceptible sound—perhaps a cough or a chuckle. She held her head high and did not react further.

"Very good, Granger, but we wanted to discuss some potential alternatives," Robards said. "Potter has been advocating for you to get your hands into some other cases since your position here will continue into September. Seems a waste to have someone of your experience casting Revelios and Finites all day."

Hermione's eyes shot over to Harry, and she could have hugged him—could have cried because, of course, Harry would do that. Her mind was a tornado of love, appreciation, and guilt as she regretted how short she had been with him last week.

Harry raised an eyebrow at her and nodded.

Hermione cleared her throat, and her voice suddenly became thick. "What did you have in mind?"

"Are you up to date on the rune stone case?" Robards asked, looking at a file on the top of his desk.

"Yes." She had read all the open cases filed when she redid the rosters.

"Well—that's good," Robards replied. "We'd hit a bit of a dead end, but someone on the night shift arrested a Swamp Hag named…" he checked a paper, "…Alma, last week. She was trying to eat someone's fingernails."

All three winced at the image, and then Robards went on. "She had a rune stone on her but didn't know what it was or how she got it. She likes to collect things from people—usually against their will. This hag lives in and around a pub called the White Wyvern in Knockturn Alley. Potter and I placed Barnes and Rothschild on the investigation, but since we have a stone associated with a new location, we'd like to have some extra eyes on that spot."

"Stakeout?" Hermione inquired, already imagining leaving the Ministry on purpose for the first time in weeks.

Robards nodded, "Exactly. Now, you have some flexibility here, but these spots in Knockturn are mostly active at night, so I think doing some late afternoon, sundown-to-sunup shifts would be good to start."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, sir. I'll review the file for the rest of the day, maybe examine some of the stones to get more familiar with them, and then I can do the first shift tonight."

"What did I say, Potter?" Robards asked Harry, clearly pleased.

"There's something else," Harry chimed in. "More to your interests."

Hermione turned toward him, her expression indicating that he should continue.

"You can monitor the Dearborn pack on their house arrest during the full moon next week," Harry said, smiling. "They've been requesting you specifically. I cleared it with Madam Randall."

Hermione smiled, "Gladly."

"I just received some more aconite and wolfsbane," Harry added. "Before your start your stake outs tonight, you can deliver it over there, and to the Goodwins. Madam Randall approved you liaising with them in your DMLE capacity since they are familiar with you."

Hermione could have clapped, but she restrained herself like the professional she was. If she couldn't return to the DRCMC right now, this was the next best thing.

"Thank you," she said sincerely to Harry before returning to Robards. "Thank you, sir. I have a good feeling about this."

Hermione and Harry left Robards to a Floo call in his office a while later. When the wooden door closed behind them, Hermione flung her arms around Harry's neck, nearly dropping the thick file for the rune stones.

Nuzzling into his slightly stubbly cheek, Hermione professed into his ear, "You are my best friend."

Harry held her firmly around the waist. "Love you, 'Mione."

Later that day—
Avery Estate

Ivy crept up the cracked stone walls of Avery Manor. The estate had seen better days—perhaps fifteen years ago, it had stood as a testament to pureblood aristocracy, but now it was a mere shadow of its former self.

Hermione levitated the wooden crate beside her, gently shifting its contents—a couple of large jars of Wolfsbane potion and a dozen pouches of aconite.

When Hermione picked up the crate from Harry's office, she marveled at the quantity of aconite he had procured. Her mind flickered back to the conversation they had had months ago when she had questioned him about his anonymous supplier. His response—an absurd lie about a "Jacques Éclair the Third"—had been so transparent that she had dropped the subject.

But now, her curiosity reignited at the sight of so much rare aconite. The mystery of the supplier tugged at the back of her mind as she continued her walk.

Arriving at the front door, Hermione paused to admire the black-paneled double doors with intricate stained glass inlays. The designs, featuring cursive As, were still beautiful despite some chips and grime. The door swung open as she reached for the knocker, revealing Joseph Dearborn. Tall and handsome, with an air of quiet strength, Joseph greeted her with a warm smile.

"Hermione! I wasn't expecting you," he said, his surprise evident.

She smiled back, feeling a slight flutter in her chest. "I'm your point of contact from now on. Next week, I'll also be your DMLE guard during the full moon."

Joseph raised an eyebrow. "I've been requesting you for weeks. The Ministry didn't even bother replying."

Hermione flushed slightly, embarrassed by the Ministry's inefficiency. "I've been on leave and banned from werewolf cases. But Harry has been putting in a good word for me, and they finally let me."

"That seems silly," Joseph remarked, shaking his head as he gestured for her to enter. "But I'm glad you're here. Why don't you come on in?"

He reached out and, with a simple motion, plucked the levitating crate from the air as if it weighed nothing. Hermione couldn't help but marvel at how effortlessly he managed it.

They walked through the manor house together, passing a few pack members who were milling about. Though weathered, the house's interior still held traces of its former grandeur. Dark wooden paneling adorned the walls, and the floors were made of polished stone, pockmarked with age and use. The corridors held some discoloration where frames had once hung, probably portraits of disgruntled Avery ancestors, Hermione thought, and she recalled the Black family portraits at Grimmauld Place, also which bemoaned a muggle-born living in their hallowed halls. Dust motes floated lazily in the air, illuminated by the fading sunlight streaming through tall windows.

A few pack members walked through the manor house, and some greeted Hermione by name. Their surprise and happiness at seeing her were evident. She smiled back, feeling a bit more at ease.

They finally reached the kitchen—a part of the house Hermione had never seen before. It had been converted into a potions lab, with bubbling cauldrons occupying the large stove and various bushels of magical plants hanging from the mantel over the enormous hearth. The windows offered a view of the sprawling grounds of the estate, protected by powerful wards where the werewolves would soon roam free under the full moon.

Two witches were minding the cauldrons on the stove, their faces lit by the orange glow of the fire. Hermione recognized one of them as Shelby Forsyth, a pack member she had met during her previous visits. The other witch, unfamiliar to her, had long, dark hair and a concentrated expression as she worked.

Joseph gently set the crate on a nearby table and introduced Hermione: "Shelby, Alessandra, this is Hermione Granger."

Shelby greeted her with a smile while Alessandra's eyes widened in excitement. "Hermione Granger! It's such an honor to meet you," she gushed, her hands trembling slightly.

Hermione felt her cheeks warm at the enthusiastic reaction. "It's nice to meet you too. I see you're making more Wolfsbane. I've brought some of that and the latest aconite."

She glanced around the room, taking in the sheer amount of work that went into brewing enough Wolfsbane to supply nearly a hundred people every month. The labor was immense—each dose requiring precise preparation and constant attention for days.

"Can I help?" she offered, eager to be helpful. "I've got a few hours before I need to head out for my night shift."

Shelby and Alessandra exchanged glances before nodding. "We could use an extra hand with the aconite you've brought," Shelby said. "They need to be carefully prepared."

"Great," Hermione nodded happily.

Joseph motioned for her to sit with him at the slate-topped worktable, and they began sorting through the pouches of aconite together. Hermione carefully examined the plants, noting the delicate spellwork on the pouches that had kept them pristine during transport. The flowers were perfectly preserved, each bloom as vibrant as if it had just been plucked. Whoever had packed them was very conscientious.

She also unpacked the jars of potion, her eyes catching on the intricate fleur-de-lis pattern etched around the edges of the lids—a detail she hadn't noticed before. There were also faint letters—either an "M" or a "W," but she couldn't be sure.

As they began working on separating the purple blooms from their silvery-green stems, Hermione and Joseph made small talk. "Why aren't you at your Muggle office today?" she asked, curious.

"It's a busy brewing day," Joseph replied with a smile. "And things are slow at the office, so I took the day off. I'm glad I did now that I get to see you."

Hermione blushed. Joseph seemed to hold her gaze for just a bit longer than necessary.

He asked her about her work, and she told him about her time as a junior Auror over the past six weeks. He laughed at her stories about kneazles, nifflers, and the poor domestication of firedrakes.

"And how was Philip—after the full moon?" Hermione eventually asked. "I just stopped by his house to drop off Wolfsbane earlier with his mum, but he wasn't home from school yet."

Joseph sighed, running a hand through his hair. "The night was fine, very calm, as I said in my last letter. Now … He's doing better, I think. He's been home, and things were rough at first. His dad's still refusing to take the Wolfsbane, but Philip's mum is trying to keep the peace as best she can."

Hermione frowned. "And Philip? Is he managing?"

Joseph nodded. "Surprisingly, yes. He's been coming by my Muggle law office after school a few times a week. We just talk, mostly. Sometimes about the full moon, sometimes about school, sometimes just... life. He needs a place to vent, and I don't mind listening."

Hermione felt a wave of relief. "I'm so glad he has someone to talk to."

"I wasn't too much older than him when I was bitten," Joseph said. "I wish I'd had someone to talk to. He's a resilient kid. He's got a lot of anger and frustration, but he's channeling it in a way that's... healthy, I think. Better than running away again, at least."

"Will he come back here in a few days?"

Joseph's head wobbled as he tried to answer. "Maybe. I've been trying to convince him to give it another shot with his dad. But if he's not ready, he'll come back here. I'm also in touch with his mum. We'll not have another diplomatic incident," he added with a wink.

"Let's not," Hermione agreed, laughing. "Thank you—for accepting him."

"Of course."

Their conversation eventually turned back to the potion, and Hermione inquired about how Wolfsbane affected him. She hoped it wasn't too forward, but she was genuinely curious about the effects of the Wolfsbane potion on the pack.

"It's the best thing wizards have ever created, as far as I'm concerned," Joseph said seriously. "It helps us keep our human minds when our bodies are no longer human. When I was first bitten and realized what had happened…the first time—it was the loss of my mind that was the greatest tragedy. Take my body all you want, but let me keep my mind." He paused a moment as if lost in thought. "Being able to stay myself inside, despite this disease—it's a gift."

Selby and Alessandra hummed in agreement from where they were crushing other ingredients nearby.

Joseph added, "But there are drawbacks."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, leaning in closer.

Joseph hesitated momentarily, then glanced at Shelby and Alessandra before speaking. "Sometimes being aware is painful. Without Wolfsbane, we hardly remember what happens during the night. With it, we know and remember everything. Fights break out between pack members—it's not something we can always control. But there was this one bizarre incident back in March…"

Shelby and Alessandra both perked up at this, chiming in to explain.

They described how the full moon affected the entire pack in March. In the middle of the night, the moonlight suddenly dimmed, and the pack began to revert into human form. The process was agonizingly slow and excruciatingly painful because the moon was still out, but its light was waning, even becoming entirely dark for a while.

Hermione's eyes widened in shock as realization dawned on her. "That must have been a lunar eclipse."

Joseph nodded thoughtfully. "Exactly. I've never experienced anything like it before, but I didn't have regular access to Wolfsbane until recently. When I don't have Wolfsbane, I remember nothing from the nights I transform."

Hermione suddenly recalled her visit to Queen Helia's fairy herd in March. The queen had remarked that the earth was "cast in shadow," and Hermione wondered if that statement referred to the lunar eclipse. "I never thought about how a lunar eclipse might affect werewolves in transformation."

"Yes, Wolfsbane is incredible, but now the entire pack remembers the intense pain of that evening," Joseph continued, his voice tinged with admiration and sorrow.

Hermione nodded, her mind buzzing with new information and its possibilities.

As the sun began to dip lower in the sky a while later, Hermione and Joseph strolled toward the tall iron gate at the end of the stone-paved driveway. The air was warm and carried the faint scent of damp earth, and the lingering aroma of aconite clung to Hermione's robes.

Though weathered and worn, the estate had a certain quiet charm in the late afternoon light, and Hermione found herself reluctant to leave.

Joseph paused as they reached the gate, turning to face her. His dark eyes held a warmth that made her heart skip a beat. "I'm happy you came today, Hermione," he said softly, his voice sincere and making her smile. It was good to see you again."

Hermione returned his smile, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks. "I'm glad too. It's always good to see you, Joseph."

He hesitated for a moment as if weighing his following words. "I was wondering," he began, his tone a bit more tentative, "if you'd be interested in having dinner sometime. We could discuss some ideas for fighting the Night of Terror Act in the coming months. My father—Muggle father, you know—he retired in America, and many of us are becoming wary of the ban on international travel, among other things."

Hermione's heart sank slightly, and she felt guilty. She was planning a holiday in France, but Joseph and his pack could not leave England while the Act was in place.

"I'd love to have dinner with you," she replied, "but… I can't work on policy right now, not until my leave of absence is over. I pushed people a bit too hard in May, and if … well, if I do anything before I'm able to return to Magical Creatures, I'm afraid they'll fire me."

Joseph nodded, understanding in his eyes. "I know. I saw that unreleased memo of yours that got leaked in The Prophet," he said, his voice tinged with admiration. "People are afraid because what you wrote was right. They fear what could happen if someone like you pushes for real change. But … we could still plan for when your leave is over."

Hermione felt a swell of gratitude and determination. "Thank you. Dinner—yes, let's keep planning."

Joseph smiled, a genuine expression that softened his rugged features. "I'll send you an owl, then," he said, his voice gentle but with an undercurrent of excitement.

Hermione wondered if Joseph intended this dinner to be something more than a dinner—and how she would feel about that if it was. She did not know. And then Joseph did something he had never done before, leaning down to hug Hermione gently, holding her against his firm chest for a short moment. Hermione had barely reached her arms around his broad shoulders before he pulled away.

They stood there momentarily, lingering at the gate, before Hermione finally stepped back, heart inexplicably racing.

"Take care, Joseph," she said, giving him one last smile before she turned to leave.

"You too, Hermione," he replied, watching as she walked away. The iron gate creaked softly as it swung shut behind her, and Hermione couldn't help but glance back over her shoulder to see Joseph still standing there when she apparated away.

Up next: Theo tries to be truly helpful and then stages an urgent intervention.