Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. It and any characters from the franchise that may appear in this fanfiction are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling. This story was written for entertainment purposes only and no profit is made from this story.
Author's note: This is a DracoxHermione (Dramione) story from Hermione's perspective set around ten years after the war. If you do not like this pairing, I suggest you stop reading. Other pairings will be mentioned, but they are not the main focus of this story.
The concept of this story, and Hermione's rise to becoming Minister for Magic, has been living rent-free in my head for the past half a year or so, and I've finally gotten around to writing it down. I've also decided to add a different type of veela aspect to this story. Please do not expect any smut, spice or anything one usually associates with the typical veela stories found on this website. I wanted to take it more in the direction of being soulmates, not a forceful bond. Draco having veela ancestry will not be specifically mentioned until we've reached the middle of the story (at least, that is how I drafted it out so far).
As said before, by no means am I a published author nor do I believe that what I write is the best out there. I'm using this as a chance to enjoy myself and get better at writing creatively (and in English) in general. Please enjoy.
Hermione sighed and leaned back in her office chair, closing her eyes. Moving her neck from left to right, not being able to relieve the tension, she instead decided to stand up and grab her bag. Perhaps, it had been enough for today? A quick tempus charm showed her it was already past nine o'clock in the evening. Shoot. She'd forgotten to eat dinner. Again. Oh well. The small Thai Restaurant down the street from her home would still be open.
It was a dreary and rainy autumn day, and she tightened her cloak around her, casting both a warming and a rain-expelling charm before she walked out of the Ministry. She'd been spending almost ten years of her life within these walls, ever since she finished her education at Hogwarts. Unlike her two best friends, Harry and Ron, she had gone back to Hogwarts to finish her schooling and had gotten her N.E.W.T.s. After she graduated, Minister Shacklebolt had immediately offered her a position at the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. She'd gotten a mastery in arithmancy as well as a Masters in Diplomatic Studies at Oxford University. A smile touched the corner of her lips when she remembered Ron calling her "bloody mental" as he hugged her close to him, wishing her luck on her first day of university.
She and Ron had never worked out. They'd tried to for at least two years, before they mutually decided they would be better off as friends. Her weekly visits to the Burrow had been awkward for a while, but Arthur had taken her aside one day and told her that she would always be a Weasley. No matter if she would marry one of his sons or not. George, who had overheard the conversation, had jokingly said that he was free next weekend to go on a date if she still was planning on joining the family officially.
A smile touched her lips as she remembered Harry's response. "Hey, leave my sister alone," he'd shooed off George, slinging an arm around her shoulder. "You all right, Mione?"
Ever since they spent those few weeks alone in the tent with just the two of them, Harry and Hermione understood each other on a whole different level. He'd always been on her side, and she'd been on his. After the war, while the golden trio was looking for her parents in Australia, they had decided to make the bond between them official. At one point it had seemed like they would have trouble finding Wendell and Monica Wilkins and she'd had a breakdown in their hotel room. She had cried and said she no longer had a family. Harry, having grown up as an orphan himself, just looked at Ron with bold Gryffindor determination, his best friend nodding. From that day forth, Hermione would always be bound to House Potter. A blood bond, just like Harry's father James and godfather Sirius had done all those years before. Ron had overseen the vow as his two best friends promised to protect each other as brother and sister for the rest of their lives. Back then, it seemed like the golden trio would always stay together as a family. But sadly, she and Ron were never meant to be.
Hermione had always been overly ambitious. Ginny joked more than once Hermione would have been a Slytherin had she not been a muggle-born witch. Even though Ron supported her when she decided to take on both a magical mastery as well as a muggle master's degree, the strain on their relationship quickly became too much. Her heavy workload with having a full-time job, as well as two studies, quickly turned into a burden. Ron liked to spend time with her, go out on dates, to show her the world. Her world was in books and research. In fighting the opposition in the Wizengamot when she tried to undo the ridiculous laws the generations before her had made.
When Ron told her that he could not go on like this any longer, she understood that she'd failed them. That she'd prioritized her wants and needs, over Ron's. The redhead had told her not to worry and moved out of their flat a little over a week later. Since then, he had married Padma Patil and they had a beautiful four-year-old girl together. Rose Weasley. As her godmother, Hermione loved Rose. She would try and take the girl out at least once a month, to both the muggle and the wizarding world, showing her libraries, museums, and of course ice cream shops. That little girl had a sweet tooth that was unmatched by any other.
Not only was she Rose's godmother, but also Harry's eldest child, James Sirius Potter. If there ever was a boy born to live up to his namesake's history, it was him. With a penchant for trouble and true Gryffindor courage, he'd made his mother and father go crazy on more than one occasion. He and Teddy Lupin were the Marauders reborn. Professor McGonagall would have kittens when James started at Hogwarts, that was for sure. She smiled softly when she remembered how the boys had one time turned Crookshanks blue, the half-kneazle chasing the two of them through her flat.
When Hermione arrived home, Thai food in one hand and her bag in the other, the lights automatically turned on. She'd chosen to live in an old but cosy studio flat in Hyde Park as it was close to work. Sometimes she missed having a garden and a little bit more breathing space, but considering it was only her, Crooks, and her books, there wasn't much she needed anyway. The old feline came to greet her, moving in circles between her feet, almost making her trip.
"What have you been up to today? Have you been a good boy and scared away the mice?" she asked him lovingly as she put her food and bag on the table, crouching down to scratch him between his ears and under his greying chin. The half-kneazle was getting old, and she couldn't help but wonder how much longer she would have with her familiar. How lonely it would feel when she arrived home, and no one would be there to greet her.
No. She couldn't think about that. Shouldn't think about that. Shouldn't think about him.
With a wave of her wand, the radio turned on and Hermione started unpacking her food. After putting on the kettle for a cup of tea, as well as letting the bath run, she sat down on the couch, Crooks begging for food in her lap as she finished her dinner.
It wasn't that she was unhappy with her life and the situation she found herself in right now. She was fine living on her own. She'd done it for three years after she and Ron split up, until… Until she ran into Oliver Wood after a dinner party with her co-workers one evening. The older Gryffindor Quidditch Captain had made it to Keeper for Puddlemere United after he graduated from Hogwarts and had survived the Battle of Hogwarts unscathed. He and Hermione had met each other at multiple events and galas after the war, but they had never sat down to talk. And talk they did.
A sigh escaped her lips as she absentmindedly felt her ring finger on her left hand, only to realise it was still empty. How could she have been so dumb? Anger rose in her as she stomped to the bathroom, letting her hair loose from its tight bun and undressing, her pencil skirt falling somewhere on the floor behind her. She hissed when she lowered her body into the steaming hot water, but she didn't care. Anything was better than remembering what he had done to her.
For almost four years, they had been a couple. He'd even asked her to marry him, and she'd said yes. Her parents, even if still a bit distant after what she'd done to them during the war, had been overjoyed. Harry and Ron had congratulated her. Luna, Padma and Angelina were ready to be her bridesmaids while Ginny would be her maid of honour. The venue and the date had been picked and paid for. If she'd never discovered what he'd done, she'd be Mrs. Hermione Wood now. She hated that he decided that she couldn't keep her own last name as well. That he didn't allow her to hyphenate. That should have been her first red flag, showing that he did not respect her wishes.
It didn't matter now. She'd broken off the engagement when she found him in the arms of another, him begging her to not tell anyone because it would ruin his career. She should've taken bloody pictures and sent them to Witch Weekly. Still could, technically, if she could find herself a pensieve on a day she felt particularly vengeful.
Rationally, she knew that she'd made the right choice in letting Oliver go. He'd blamed his cheating on her because she was focusing on her career so much. That was a low blow. After things didn't work out between her and Ron because of her spending so much time on her studies and career, she had toned it down. Taken longer than she should have to complete her mastery even. They went on holidays and on dates, made a point to eat dinner together every evening, spent evenings talking and going out with friends, the whole shebang. But no. That was not enough for the famous Quidditch player. The Daily Prophet had quoted him on their separation due to "irreconcilable differences", but she knew that people had been gossiping about her behind her back. How "no one was good enough for thé Hermione Granger". Idiots. The lot of them. But perhaps, there was truth in their words. Perhaps, she should have higher standards considering what had happened to her and Oliver.
For the past year or so, she'd been living with Crooks in this tiny flat, making it her home, books piling on top of her already full bookshelves. It was small, but it was hers. She'd hosted dinner parties for her friends here, and taken care of Teddy, James, Rose, Albus, and Lily. Trying to forget about Oliver fucking Wood, she dunked her head under the water, clearing her thoughts.
"Better get to bed," she told Crooks who was patiently waiting for his Mistress outside the bathroom door. "Tomorrow is a big day."
Harry was doing all the yelling while Hermione was trying to stay calm, her hands clasped together in her lap to stop herself from fidgeting. Or from strangling someone more likely. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to say. If there was anything to say.
Her back was turned to her brother who had been unable to control his temper as soon as they left the hearing at the Wizengamot that day. The position of Head of the D.M.L.E. had finally been assigned. As Deputy, Hermione had applied, sending in her resume to the Wizengamot. Harry, who was Head Auror and loved working together with Hermione, had been right there to support his friend and had voted for her in name of House Potter. What neither of them had expected, was that the Wizengamot had instead appointed him as the new Head of the D.M.L.E. even though he had not applied and had no ambitions to even fulfil that role. Life as a Head Auror was busy enough with four children. Besides, Hermione had outdone herself as Deputy, replacing their boss who had retired sooner than expected half a year earlier. She had done the job and had proven herself worthy. Apparently, that wasn't enough.
"You can't be serious, Kingsley," the raven-haired man behind her yelled, smacking his fist on her desk in anger. "I didn't even want the job. Mione has been doing an incredible job, she should be the one-"
"I'm sorry, Harry," the Minister tried to pacify him. "My hands are tied. I was as surprised as you are. I guess now that I am soon to retire that the Wizengamot didn't deem it necessary to inform me of their decision or accept my recommendation. I'm not even sure that all members agreed with the decision."
Hermione noticed Harry had started pacing, trying to control his anger and frustration. She finished her tea and put it on the coffee table next to her, still looking outside. Where had she gone wrong? She had worked herself to the bone these past few months. These past few years. If Oliver was to be believed, she had even thrown her relationship out of the window for this job. And for what?
"The Wizengamot-" Harry began, Hermione cutting him off as she twirled around in her chair.
"Is filled to the brim with bigoted pure-blood elitists," she finished for him. "Not even you, as Lord Potter, and your allies' votes could go against them." She stood up, adjusted her navy-blue robes, and took her coat from the hanger, both Harry and Kingsley watching her every step.
"I'm sorry, Hermione," the Minister said sincerely, not denying her previous claim. After the war, the magical parliament had not been changed as it should have. The old families still stood strong, not allowing anyone to be elected for their positions. Muggle-borns and half-bloods were still left out, and the older Lords and Ladies, even if they weren't supporters of Voldemort, were stuck in their ways. The only way to gain entrance, or to gain more votes to one's name, was by being part of the already established houses. Voldemort and his death eaters had managed to obliterate whole houses or put more conservative family members at the head, and Kingsley had struggled to right the wrongs after the war.
"Don't be sorry, Kingsley," she answered tightly as she was adjusting her silver scarf, making sure she looked presentable. It wouldn't do to be seen rushing through the Ministry, looking as if she was throwing a tantrum. One thing she'd learnt was to not let any members of the Wizengamot, or the public for that matter, see her true feelings. Occlumency training had come in handy for that. "Harry will do a tremendous job. And I will be here to support him. Good day, gentlemen."
She walked out of her office, ignoring Harry's pleas to wait for him. McLaggen winked at her as she walked past, giving her the shivers. He must not have heard the news yet then. Else he'd surely come and rub it in her face that she'd been passed over for the position.
When she reached the elevators, some of the lords and ladies seated on the Wizengamot were also inside the tight space, making her want to turn around and run. But, Hermione Granger did not flee from her adversaries. She would hold her head high and join them in the elevator to the atrium so she could finally floo home and lounge on the couch with a cup of tea and a good book.
None of them dared to talk to her, but she could feel them staring, nonetheless. Hermione positioned herself in a corner in the back of the elevator, staring straight ahead as she clenched her jaw, remembering her occlumency classes. She would not let them get to her.
She could feel a silencing and a notice-me-not charm descend on her then. Being the war heroine she was, her hand immediately went for her wand. But whoever had wanted to talk to her privately, had anticipated her actions and had grabbed her wrist softly instead.
"Granger, relax. It's me."
Looking up to her left now, she was surprised to stare into a set of familiar stormy grey eyes. Maybe she'd been more aloof after this afternoon's events than she'd thought she was if she hadn't managed to recognise Draco Malfoy's pale blond hair between the other members of the Wizengamot.
"Malfoy," she snapped at him. "What's the meaning of this?"
He smirked at her defensive tone, but eventually turned serious as he looked down at her. She faintly noticed he was still holding her wrist, as if to root her in place. Part of her was even surprised he'd dared to touch her, being a muggle-born and all.
"I just wanted to tell you that the Wizengamot has made a mistake in not making you Head of the D.M.L.E. Your application was the best we received."
She remembered her surprise now during the hearing when Malfoy had voted against the proposal to make Harry the new Head of the department. At the time, she'd thought he'd done it to spite Harry, with the way he was sneering at her brother, but perhaps he truly had wanted her to- No. No way in hell that Draco Malfoy of all people would want a little mudblood like herself to hold such an important position.
"Then it's a shame you and yours did not consider my application closely enough," she breathed out, finally wrestling her wrist from his hand.
"I certainly did," he grinned. "I even threw around quite a bit of my Malfoy fortune to sway some of the other lords and ladies to your side. Seems not everyone is as loyal to my money as they claim to be."
His eyes darkened at that realisation. As if he was displeased that he hadn't gotten his way. Typical spoiled brat.
"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, Malfoy. But I'm sure most of the Wizengamot will be pleased a muggle-born such as myself won't be leading the department," she told him as the elevator stopped and people started rushing out. "Now if you'll excuse me. I need to head home."
The spells surrounding her fell away as soon as she took a step forward, but she nearly stopped in her tracks when he forcefully stated, "You could never disappoint me, Granger."
She whipped her head back and glared at him, noticing that more than a few of the members of the Wizengamot had also heard him and were staring at him wide-eyed. She could sorely miss his sarcasm right now. But apparently, only she had taken his words to be negative.
"Lord Malfoy," one of the women on his right stammered, unsure why he'd suddenly spoken out loud due to the silencing spell. "Surely, you don't mean to assume that we, the Wizengamot, have made a mistake and that Miss Granger here-"
"Do not assume that you and the people who have put you in power can tell me what to do. Not any longer," Malfoy sneered at her. The witch immediately shut up as he stormed straight past her, his plum-coloured cloak billowing after him in a Snape-like fashion.
Hermione shook her head. Today had been too bizarre. All she wanted to do was to get home so she wouldn't have to deal with all this nonsense anymore.
After buying some wine, and the ingredients for a simple pasta dish at the nearest Waitrose, she started preparing dinner, Crooks lazily laying on one of the kitchen chairs. Her cellphone went off multiple times, but she couldn't bother to check if it was her parents or Harry trying to reach her. She needed some time to herself. To set her priorities straight.
Had all that overtime, all the effort she put in her job during the past ten years not amounted to more than this? Would she forever be in the shadows of half-bloods and pure-bloods? If so, then what had they won the bloody war for?
"No, don't think like that, Mione," she scolded herself out loud as she checked if the pasta was al dente yet or not. Muggle-borns had it way better now than they did before the war. She'd been partly responsible for that. Not only had she advocated muggle-borns' rights, but she had also managed to undo Umbridge's werewolf legislation and improved house elf laws. Her achievements and hard work at the Ministry had mattered. Had changed lives. Yet, she seemed to be stuck in place.
Her cellphone blinked up at her again, and she finally dared to take a look. It was Harry, asking if she would still be coming for brunch at the Burrow tomorrow. His question was followed by a whole tirade and calling of names of the Wizengamot members and pure-blood customs. Clearly, Ginny had gotten her hands on his phone. Hermione laughed. She hoped her best friends would never change.
"Such a shame, Hermione dear, that you did not get the position," Molly announced at the Burrow's breakfast table the next morning, shaking her head as she spooned some eggs onto her plate. "Even if I am happy for you, of course, Harry."
"Don't be, Mum," Ginny interrupted the Weasley matriarch. "Harry never wanted this position in the first place. Actually, he was thinking of quitting. Weren't you, Harry?"
The usual lively banter and noise at the table died down immediately. "You were thinking of quitting your auror job?" Ron nearly choked on the scone he'd been stuffing in his mouth, his daughter Rose clapping him on the back gently. She too was used to her father's eating habits it seemed.
Hermione gave Harry a look, urging him to explain.
Harry sheepishly rubbed his neck. "I was planning for this to be my last year as Head Auror. Ginny and I've talked about it before. I'm a father of four now, and I've been working as an Auror for over ten years. It's time to slow down and spend time with my family. Follow my passion instead of cleaning up the mess that Voldemort and his death eaters left."
Molly winced at the use of You-Know-Who's name but smiled politely at her only son-in-law. "And do you have any idea what job you would like to do? Since you were talking about following your passion. Are you thinking of becoming a Professional Quidditch Player again? No offence, Harry, but you might be a bit too old to join the ranks. For you, they might make an exception of course…"
Harry laughed and shook his head. Hermione already knew where his passion lay. She'd always known, ever since their fifth year. No one else had connected the dots yet, however. "Has McGonagall contacted you?" she asked as she started buttering some toast, seemingly disinterested, but nearly screaming in excitement on the inside.
"As a matter of fact, she has. Asked me to become the new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor next school year," Harry nodded, not surprised that Hermione had figured it out. "I will be able to commute and spend more time with Gin and the kids, and less time chasing dark wizards." He clasped his wife's hand and they both lovingly smiled at each other.
"Teddy is probably delighted that his dad is going to be his D.A.D.A. Professor next year when he starts at Hogwarts," Bill knowingly winked at the blue-haired boy sitting next to his daughter Victoire.
A round of congratulations went around the table until finally Hermione was able to hug her brother to her. "You should've told me," she whispered to him.
Harry's eyes turned sad. "After yesterday, Mione… It's why I was so opposed to the position. It wasn't just because you're the one who deserved it. It's also because I will only be there for another ten months or so. I was about to quit right alongside Kingsley when his term is over."
"Perhaps Mione will finally get what she deserves next year," Ron said encouragingly. "No one has worked as hard as you to get that position."
"Or perhaps, this is a prime opportunity to finally settle down, Hermione dear," Molly suggested. "After all, you're not getting any younger. You will be turning thirty in a little over a year, so perhaps a less demanding job will be more suitable when you get children."
For the second time that morning, silence descended over the table. This one was seeped in awkwardness, however.
"Mum," Ginny sighed, jumping to Hermione's defence.
"What?" Molly asked, unaware of the tension currently in the room. "I'm just saying, Ginny. Hermione is the only one of you that hasn't gotten any children yet. Perhaps, if she hadn't let Oliver go, then-"
The glass of juice in front of Hermione shattered with a bang as her magic flared out of her, scaring Victoire and making her hide her face in her dad's side.
"I'm sorry, love," Hermione told the girl as she waved her hand and cleaned up the mess she'd made. "Even us adults have a bout of accidental magic from time to time," she winked, trying to ease her temper.
"I'm sorry if I've offended you, dear, but-" Molly began.
"With all due respect, Molly," Hermione interrupted her, putting her hands flat on the table, and taking a deep breath. "I did not let Oliver go. What he might have called "irreconcilable differences" was actually his own inability to see the difference between his fiancé and another woman when he decided where to park his broomstick," she let out harshly, not wanting the children to realise what she'd been saying.
Molly's eyes widened. "You never told us dear, I just assumed that-"
"That it was my fault that he left," she choked out, not able to control her tears any longer. "And perhaps it was. But I didn't decide to share a bed with someone else. He did."
George, sitting on her right, reached his hand towards hers. "You should've told us sooner, Mione. You have four brothers here who would have gladly beaten that bastard up for you."
She looked at Bill, George, Ron, and Harry, noting the anger in their eyes.
"You can add a sister to that," Ginny said as she raised her fork in the air dramatically. "I can get us onto the pitch at Puddlemere before the quidditch game tonight boys. Press privileges and all. You name the time, and I will apparate us all there if you just-"
"Please don't," Hermione whispered as she took her hand from George's and shoved back her chair, her legs shaking as she stood up.
"It was lovely seeing all of you," she smiled at the Weasley clan. "But I think it's time for me to go."
Ignoring their pleas to come back, she turned on her heel and walked outside, apparating straight into her living room.
Insistent knocking on her front door woke her up that evening. After she came back from the Weasleys, she realised that she'd never actually told any of them what had happened between her and Oliver. Ginny had texted her earlier that she would chop off Oliver's balls, but Hermione had told her that it had been months since it happened. That everything was alright.
Everything was not alright.
Instead of spending the day with the Weasleys, she'd curled up on the couch with one of her favourite books. Not even the words she loved so much could bring her out of her slump, so in the end she just dozed off. Even Hermione Granger was allowed to feel sorry for herself once in a while, she figured.
"Alright, alright," she yelled at the door as she threw off the blanket and found her slippers. "I'm coming!"
When she opened the door, Ginny immediately shoved a bottle of wine in her hands, while Angelina was lifting two more in the air. Padma seemed to be holding a home-made chocolate cake and Harry, George, and Ron were carrying three pizzas each.
"You guys," Hermione said with tears in her eyes. "You didn't have to do this. What about the children?"
"Mum is more than happy to take care of them," Ginny announced as she made her way inside and waved her wand to make room for the seven of them, transfiguring some of Hermione's other furniture into comfortable chairs. "And she's sorry about what she said. We all are. You should've told us, Mione."
"I just didn't know how to," she sobbed as she looked at Ron specifically. "He said it was because I spent so much time working, and-"
Ron immediately engulfed her in a hug. "What utter rubbish. I know how much you tried for me back in the day. How much you'd changed with Ollie. He should have never thrown that in your face."
The group of friends spent the night eating pizza, drinking wine, and finally singing karaoke when they got too drunk, much to Crookshanks' dismay. Hermione finally felt better and a weight had lifted off her shoulders when she'd shared the truth with them.
In the end, only Ginny and Harry remained, the three Gryffindors lying on Hermione's magically enlarged bed, all of them staring up at the enchanted ceiling showing the London night sky.
"This is nice," the brunette whispered. "Having a sleepover like we used to when we were young."
Ginny chuckled. "We're still young, Mione. You're acting as if you've turned into an old crone."
"According to your Mum, I might as well have."
"Don't take everything Molly says to heart," Harry shushed her. "She means well, even if her methods and ideas might be a bit… Old-fashioned."
"Ever the diplomat," Hermione sighed. "Perhaps that is why you got the position instead of me."
"You're way more suited for it than me, Mione," her brother sighed. "The Wizengamot made a mistake in not making you Head of the D.M.L.E."
Hermione giggled, the alcohol clearly still in her system. "Malfoy said the exact same thing."
Silence.
"Did you just say Malfoy?" Ginny asked, suddenly intrigued as she leaned on her elbow and looked down at Hermione. "Have you been drinking too much, Miss Granger?"
"When did you see Malfoy? After the hearing?" Harry inquired, as curious as his wife.
"He was on the elevator with me when I went home yesterday," Hermione sighed, closing her eyes as she remembered how handsome he looked. Wait. Where did that thought come from? Perhaps she had drunk too much wine. "Said he'd even thrown around some money to make the hearing go in my favour. Seems like not everyone is still barking up the Malfoys' tree."
Harry and Ginny shared a knowing look. "He wanted you to become the Head of the D.M.L.E.?" Ginny asked incredulously.
Hermione nodded sleepily. "He seemed quite displeased that I hadn't, for whatever reason. Who knows how all his Slytherin scheming works."
"He- He also supported the bill you proposed for the new werewolf legislation," Harry tentatively said. "I remember that Kingsley was surprised Malfoy had even come to the Wizengamot at all that day, considering his mother had died only a few weeks earlier. People assumed he would be out of the public eye for longer. But he was there, that day. McLaggen was even complaining about how Malfoy had been prancing around as your supporter, just to show that the Malfoy name still holds power and that they were on the Light side now."
Now that Hermione thought about it, Malfoy had been there at the Wizengamot that day. He'd looked more gaunt than she was used to in recent years, almost like he did during the war. A shiver ran down her spine as she remembered that night on the floor of the Drawing Room at Malfoy Manor. Bellatrix Lestrange still featured in her nightmares more often than she'd like to admit. Just the thought of that woman's name made her skin crawl.
The trio lay in silence, and at some point Harry had dozed off, leaving the two women awake as Crookshanks nestled between them.
"Perhaps, Ron is right. And when Harry quits in a year, you will finally get what you deserve, Mione," Ginny whispered as she took her best friend's hand in hers. "If both Kingsley and Harry retire from politics, their last act should be to support you with all that they can. Perhaps, even Malfoy will still be doing his scheming and trying to have the Wizengamot vote for you. Whatever his reasons might be. Hopefully, the new Minister will be on your side too."
"Who do you think will run?" Hermione mused. "Whoever gets the position will have big shoes to fill after Kingsley."
"Harry has heard rumours of Robards being interested. Fawley and McLaggen are the ones in your office that might be interested, but they are too inexperienced to be approved off by the Wizengamot I think," the redhead answered. "There've been whispers at the Daily Prophet that Gareth Greengrass will most likely become the next Minister for Magic."
Hermione nodded. "He's been Senior Minister under Kingsley for years. It would make sense for him to run. He's probably the most qualified."
"Malfoy will probably support him too," Ginny yawned. "He's quite chummy with the Greengrass sisters after all. Or he used to be with the youngest."
"Perhaps he would support me if he likes throwing his money at my causes so much." Hermione chuckled. Now that she thought more about it, Malfoy had also supported her bill to improve house elves' conditions. He'd even funded an orphanage in Harry's name after the war was over. Perhaps McLaggen was right and the Slytherin had been trying to fix his family's reputation by doing what he did best: scheming and spending money. At least this time, it had benefited more than just the Malfoy family.
"Maybe you should ask him," Ginny sleepily answered, clearly dozing off. "Maybe if you ask him to fund your campaign, he will."
What an utterly ridiculous idea. They'd just considered McLaggen and Fawley to be too inexperienced to run for Minister. Her own coworkers. Sure, she had been Deputy Head of the D.M.L.E. but her credentials weren't as good as those of Gareth Greengrass or Gawain Robards. Yet, a tiny voice in the back of her mind couldn't help but wonder. What if she actually did run for Minister? Would she finally be able to prove to all those pure-blooded bigots in the Wizengamot that she was capable? That she could lead the British wizarding world?
A strange sense of amusement filled her, but it didn't feel entirely her own. Perhaps she had too much to drink. Hermione sighed and turned around, cuddling closer to Crookshanks before she fell into a dreamless slumber.
She hadn't been sure what to expect when she walked into work the next Monday. Her coworkers were all looking at the new nameplate on the Head of the D.M.L.E.'s office door. Harry James Potter. Most of them threw pitiful glances at her, but she did not acknowledge them. There was no need for a pity party.
Harry had joined her in her office for lunch, not wanting to be confronted with his new coworkers either, and discussed with Hermione who would be suited to become the new Head Auror. Michael Corner's name was mentioned more than once, but her brother eventually decided to allow all of his aurors to try out for the position.
"I'll test them like Moody would," he said as he nibbled on the last of his BLT sandwich. "First, some rigorous tests to see how large their arsenal of D.A.D.A. and dark arts spells is, and then I could perhaps ask MacDonald and Mortimer from the Department of Mysteries to assist me in setting up a theoretical exam. I swear, the unspeakables always come up with the strangest cases for us to solve…"
Hermione nodded in agreement, her thoughts elsewhere. She'd been thinking about the conversation she and Ginny had the past weekend. What would Harry say if she admitted to him that she would try and run for Minister for Magic? Would he have her back as he usually did? Or would he try and talk her out of such a venture and advise her to take the position of Head of the D.M.L.E. instead?
The two worked together for the rest of the day, Hermione bringing Harry up to speed with their most pressing cases. As Head Auror, it was easy for him to get caught up and by the early evening, they had managed to fill Harry's calendar for the next two weeks so he could slowly get adjusted to his new position.
"Thanks again, Mione," Harry said as he took the last two files from her. "I know how difficult this must be-"
"It's not," she assured him. "Perhaps I will even enjoy this. Harry Potter finally doing my bidding and following all the schedules and planning I do for him." She winked, reminding him of their Hogwarts days and how she always had to nag him to do his homework or start studying for his exams.
"Merlin, please have mercy on my soul."
Harry waved his goodbyes and left her office, leaving the door open as McLaggen was lingering nearby, seemingly wanting to speak to Hermione.
"Come in," she called him in as she started readjusting some files she would need to archive later. Damnit. Harry had forgotten one. Oh well. "How can I help you, McLaggen? And please, make it quick. I have other places to be."
She didn't. But being alone in the same room as McLaggen still made her skin crawl. Whatever his silly little mind had made up about her when she agreed to be his date to the Slug Club's Christmas party in their sixth year, was still lingering underneath. Luckily the idiot hadn't closed her office door, seeing as most of their colleagues had already headed home. At least she could make a quick escape if need be.
The dark-blond wizard casually sat down on her desk and leaned towards her, making Hermione frown.
"So sad to see that you didn't make the cut, Granger," he began as he looked down at her, trying to be intimidating. "But not to fear. Perhaps, I can offer you a more interesting job than Head of the D.M.L.E.?"
Hermione snorted as she got up and put distance between her and McLaggen, grabbing her coat to indicate she was leaving soon. "You? A job offer? And what in Merlin's name would that be? You do realise that you're currently my subordinate, don't you McLaggen?". If there was one thing she'd learnt from Malfoy during all those years at Hogwarts, it was to smirk at anyone who thought they could get the better of her. McLaggen and his creepy ways was one of those people.
"How does the title of wife of the new Minister for Magic sound?" he grinned at her.
Hermione blinked. She didn't know if she should laugh or be outraged at his comment. Did that bloody idiot actually think that was a job? Or even better, that he would make it as Minister for Magic? With that attitude? The electorate would throw a fit if a man like him would become Minister.
She couldn't help but laugh right in his face.
"I'm serious," he said, gritting his teeth in anger.
"It doesn't sound like a job," she snapped at him as she buttoned up her coat as fast as she could. "It sounds like some deluded fantasy of yours."
For the second time in a few days, a hand grabbed itself around her wrist. This time, it wasn't gentle. McLaggen had hopped off her desk so fast, angrily looking down at her as he clamped onto her.
"I've had enough of your games, Granger," he hissed at her. "Stop playing so hard to get. We both know that you can't resist me. I know you're always looking at me. Besides, you should be happy that someone like me is still interested in the likes of you."
"What is that supposed to mean?" she angrily said, her magic bubbling right underneath the surface. Always looking at him? Yes, in pure disgust or irritation at one of his stupid remarks, or his attempts to flirt with their female coworkers. If that idiot wouldn't let go of her anytime soon, then-
"We all know that you're damaged goods. First Weasley. Then Wood. No one is good enough for the great Hermione Granger, the brains of the golden trio. But you're not getting any younger. Perhaps it is time for you to finally settle down and become a proper wife, married to a proper husband."
McLaggen let go of her and yelped, touching his hand as his skin sizzled. Good. Perhaps burning himself would teach him not to touch others without their permission.
"I don't need to be the Minister's wife," she spat at him. "Perhaps, I'll just run for Minister for Magic myself instead."
"You bitch." McLaggen scowled as he took out his wand and tried to heal the burn mark Hermione's magic had given him. "As if you would ever be considered to be the British wizarding world's Minister. A filthy little mud-"
"I would watch your tongue," a bored voice drawled from Hermione's doorway. "I wouldn't harass our future Minister, McLaggen. After all, Granger will be your boss one day. That is if she doesn't report you and your actions to your Head of Department first."
"Malfoy," Hermione whispered, taking in her childhood nemesis as he leaned against her doorway, his black cloak draped lazily over his arm. He was impeccably dressed as always and had probably just returned from some sort of meeting here at the ministry. Not the Wizengamot this time, since he wasn't dressed in his plum-coloured robes.
Even if he looked utterly calm, she could feel the magic oozing out of him. That same raw power that she'd seen him use after the war had ended and he'd come to the ministry to be tested for auror training. As if a thread that had been holding his magic together had finally snapped when he was no longer under his father's or Voldemort's thumb. But even if he was a powerful wizard, and even if he had an extensive range of dark spells at his disposal, no one wanted to work with an ex-death eater in those years. So, Malfoy had never joined the auror academy. Had never become part of the ministry. Instead, he had become an investor of some sort and stayed in the shadows and done what he did best. Scheming. Throwing around his family name while being seated on the Wizengamot. How he'd wrestled that seat from his father, Hermione was still unsure about.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, finally finding her voice.
"Taking you out to dinner to discuss the funding of your campaign," the blond stated. "Let's go. Hopefully, someone will find that loser later this evening. If not, he has an uncomfortable night ahead of him."
She whipped her head back and looked at McLaggen whom she realised now, had been silenced and was currently caught in some sort of incarcerous spell, seeing the silver magical threads around his body. Had Malfoy cast that wandlessly? Silently?
"We can't leave him here like that," Hermione argued as Malfoy started walking away, clearly wanting her to follow.
"We certainly can," he smirked as he looked over his shoulder at her. "But if it would make you feel better, Granger, I'll make sure to not leave him to taint your office." And with just a wave of his hand, Malfoy had McLaggen floating out of her office and hanging upside down in the hallway.
"Hermione, I forgot that other file you-"
Harry's eyes widened as he took in the three of them, Malfoy completely unperturbed at McLaggen's current predicament, and Hermione torn between freeing her fellow Gryffindor or aiding Malfoy in sticking the fool to the ceiling for what he'd just said to her in her office.
"Malfoy," her brother greeted the blond wizard.
"Potter."
"Mind telling me what you've been up to in my department today?"
"Not particularly," he shrugged nonchalantly. "You can ask McLaggen what vile shit he spouted at your sister."
Hermione's eyebrows raised. Sister? Not a lot of people knew of the bond between her and Harry. What part of the gossip mill had possibly reached him?
Malfoy stepped backwards and offered her his elbow. "Hurry up, Granger. I made reservations and I hate to be late."
And for some inexplicable reason, if it was her intrigue at the magic he'd displayed or her curiousness about his scheming, she couldn't help but put her hand in the crook of his arm.