Chapter 1
Hermione Granger had always believed herself to be a rational person. She prided herself on thinking things through, on weighing her options, and on making choices based on logic rather than impulse.
She had spent years cultivating this reputation as a rising figure in the Ministry, where her sharp mind and strategic thinking had earned her both respect and wariness from her colleagues. It was this very ability to remain composed under pressure that had helped her navigate everything from magical law reforms to rogue goblin uprisings. She was the sort of person who made lists, who considered all possible outcomes, who never let emotions dictate her decisions.
And yet, as she sat at her desk in the Ministry of Magic’s Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, staring at the latest issue of The Daily Prophet, she felt anything but rational.
Hermione Granger & Percy Weasley: Ministry’s Power Couple?
The headline blared in bold letters across the front page, accompanied by a moving photograph of her and Percy deep in conversation outside the Ministry entrance. He was gesturing animatedly, his spectacles slipping slightly down the bridge of his nose, while she nodded with an expression of intent focus. To the uninformed observer, it might have looked like an intimate discussion—one between two people who knew each other well, who shared secrets.
Which was, of course, absurd.
Hermione dropped the paper onto her desk and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake.”
She should have known better than to have a personal conversation anywhere near Rita Skeeter’s network of informants. But she had been caught off guard when Percy, of all people, had pulled her aside after a meeting to discuss the brewing scandal in the Department of International Magical Cooperation.
The conversation had been nothing out of the ordinary—certainly nothing worth splashing across the front page of the Prophet. They had been debating recent legislation concerning cross-border portkey regulations, a topic about as romantic as a tax audit. And yet, somehow, a combination of a misleading photograph, overactive imaginations, and the press’s insatiable hunger for gossip had transformed it into something it absolutely was not.
She picked up the paper again, rereading the article. It was full of flowery insinuations—mentions of “undeniable chemistry,” “quiet stolen moments,” and even a ridiculous claim that Percy had been seen “gazing at Hermione with unmistakable admiration” during a recent Ministry luncheon. Hermione snorted. If Percy had been gazing at anything, it had been the finely printed menu detailing the seasonal variations of treacle tart.
“I should have just denied it outright,” she muttered to herself. But then she thought of the alternative—being hounded by reporters day in and day out, answering invasive questions about her personal life, and enduring the relentless speculation about whether she was still pining over Ron. No, as irritating as this rumour was, it was oddly convenient.
Still, she could already imagine the questions waiting for her the moment she stepped out of her office. Had she been hiding a secret romance? Was Percy Weasley really the one who had finally won the heart of the famously private Hermione Granger? What did her friends think? What did Ron think?
Her stomach twisted at the thought.
With a resigned sigh, she leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling. It was going to be a long day.
A sharp knock on her office door interrupted her thoughts. Before she could answer, the door swung open, and Percy Weasley himself strode in, looking more harassed than usual, his expression tense behind his spectacles. His usually impeccable posture was slightly stiff, as if he had been bracing himself for battle before stepping into her office. He held up a copy of The Daily Prophet, identical to the one that now lay crumpled on her desk, and waved it slightly for emphasis.
“I assume you’ve seen the paper,” he said, his tone measured but exasperated, as though he had already had to endure several uncomfortable conversations that morning.
Hermione let out a long sigh, rubbing her temple. “Unfortunately.” She gestured at the offending publication on her desk. “I imagine you’re here to discuss damage control?”
Percy hesitated for the briefest moment before adjusting his glasses and clearing his throat, a sure sign that whatever he was about to say would be something unexpected. “Actually, I was wondering if… perhaps we shouldn’t correct them.”
Hermione blinked, caught completely off guard. “Come again?”
He shifted his weight, looking uncharacteristically unsure. “This ridiculous article has done something rather unexpected. People—important people—have been treating me differently all morning. More… favourably.” He cleared his throat again, looking vaguely uncomfortable. “I realize this is an inconvenience for you, but there’s an undeniable social benefit in allowing the misunderstanding to persist.”
Hermione’s eyebrows shot up so fast she was sure they nearly disappeared into her hairline. “You want to pretend we’re engaged?”
“Well, when you say it like that—”
“That’s exactly what it is, Percy!” she said, throwing her hands up in disbelief. “Do you have any idea how absurd that sounds?”
Percy sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, a rare display of uncertainty from the otherwise meticulously composed man. “Look, I understand if you don’t want to, but consider this—if we publicly deny it, the Prophet will only double down. There will be new headlines, more speculation. If we ignore it, the fuss will eventually die down.”
Hermione folded her arms, her mind already racing ahead to analyse the possible outcomes. As much as she wanted to scoff at the idea, she knew Percy had a point. The wizarding press thrived on scandal and intrigue; if she outright denied the claim, the press would spin another angle—why was she so defensive? Was she hiding something? Who was she dating? Would they start printing stories about her past relationship with Ron? Would reporters start digging into her personal life, desperate for another scoop?
If she let the rumour be, however, if she leaned into it just a little…
“Well,” she said slowly, still weighing the consequences in her mind, “it would mean fewer reporters pestering me about Ron.”
Percy straightened ever so slightly, as if sensing her resolve wavering. “Exactly.”
“And I suppose it would keep nosy people from speculating about who I’m dating.”
“Precisely.”
Hermione tapped her fingers on her desk, the rhythmic sound filling the silence as she thought. It wasn’t as though they needed to do anything. They wouldn’t have to stage any public displays of affection or make grand declarations. They would simply… go about their lives and let the rumor fade on its own.
She took a deep breath, extending her hand toward him. “Alright, Weasley. You’ve got yourself a fake fiancée.”
Percy grasped her hand in a firm shake, his lips twitching slightly in what might have been amusement. “And you, Granger, have got yourself a very respectable almost-husband.”
As Percy turned and left her office, Hermione leaned back in her chair, exhaling slowly. This was fine. Logical, even. They would ignore the nonsense, let the rumor run its course, and in a few weeks, everyone would forget about it.
Nothing could possibly go wrong.
Right?