The Intern

At work the following week, Malfoy did not mention the mysterious phone call and Hermione didn’t want to be the first to bring it up. Instead, they fell into the same routine as their previous week, sorting through files until their backs and eyes ached.

Despite the strain of the work, Hermione was invigorated by their speed. At this rate, it would only take a few months to finish organising and correcting the Ministry’s current records, and she could start updating them with more recent information.

However, her expectations for a normal Thursday were interrupted by a knock on their office door partway through the morning. She called out permission to enter, expecting one of her usual colleagues seeking help. Instead, in walked a tall, slender, well-dressed wizard, whose bright blue eyes and dark, wavy hair tugged at something in her memory.

“What are you doing here?” Malfoy hissed at the man.

The stranger ignored him, instead beaming at Granger, his smile wide and dazzling. He closed the door behind him, sealing the three of them in the small office.

“Hermione Granger, you look every inch as wonderful as I remember from school.”

She frowned at him, recognising his voice. “You’re the one who called me from Malfoy’s phone?”

He dipped his head in confirmation. “Theo Nott, the one and only.”

The name sparked the final embers of recognition.

“Of course! You were in Slytherin, weren’t you?”

He nodded again, smile widening to reveal a dimple in his cheek.

“Nott, enough. Why are you here?” Malfoy interrupted the reunion.

Theo shot him a brief look of disdain before gazing around their office, eyes skimming the damp patches on the walls and stains on the carpet in the few spaces not covered by paperwork or storage boxes.

“You weren’t lying about this place.” He strolled further in and perched on the edge of Hermione’s desk, picking up a stray pen and twirling it through his long fingers.

“Of course I wasn’t. You didn’t need to come here for confirmation.”

“Oh, that isn’t why I’m here. I came to reacquaint myself with Miss Granger, since you rudely cut our last conversation short.” Theo turned that charming smile back towards Hermione, who raised her eyebrows at him.

She glanced at Malfoy but he was too busy glaring at their intruder to notice.

“Granger, I’ll cut to the chase,” Theo said, a serious expression falling over his face. She felt herself mirroring it. “Malfoy told me about your plan to immerse him in the Muggle world and I’m interested.”

Hermione’s brow knotted. “Pardon?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t be demanding a position in the Ministry.” He scrunched his nose with distaste. “I have enough money to avoid a fate like this.”

“Stop bothering Granger,” Malfoy snapped from his desk, scowling at Theo. “I didn’t show you my phone so you could come here with silly requests. This is a professional environment.”

“Hang on, Malfoy,” Hermione interrupted, eyeing Theo. “You’re a pureblood, aren’t you? Your family is one of the sacred twenty-eight?” She vaguely remembered Theo from school and his surname from the war, though they had never truly interacted beyond occasional eye contact across the library or while Malfoy teased her about something.

“I’m the last of my family, but yes.”

She pursed her lips. Perhaps her quest to change pureblood perceptions of Muggles would be easier than she thought. Here one was, practically throwing himself at her in his eagerness to learn.

“Malfoy, this is exactly what we’re trying to achieve—spreading information to purebloods in particular, but all witches and wizards. This is a vital step for us. The more purebloods we can influence, the better!”

“Granger, no. He’s a pain in the arse.”

Theo gasped.

“I will not work with him. He’s only here because he has nothing better to do. He’ll slow down our work.” Malfoy scowled.

“I don’t care about why he’s here, the fact remains that this is what we’re working toward.” Hermione frowned across their small office. “You can’t avoid speaking with other purebloods forever. Our processes need to be adaptable.”

Malfoy opened his mouth to respond, but Theo cut him off.

“If it helps, Malfoy, it isn’t just me that’s interested in monopolising Granger’s time and intellect.” He turned slightly toward the door, cupping his hand around his mouth. “Come in!”

Hermione’s eyes widened slightly as the creaky door opened. In walked three more purebloods, all of whom she recognised from Hogwarts. Her throat dried.

Leading the pack was Pansy Parkinson. Her dark hair was cut into a sleek bob that followed the sharp line of her jaw. Her eyes were as steely as they’d been at school, lips plump and pursed. She scanned the room, nose wrinkling at the state of the office.

Behind her walked a tall man with close-cropped hair and the faintest hint of smile lines around his eyes—Blaise Zabini. His arm was slug around a pretty, slender blonde. Daphne Greengrass’s overall appearance was less intimidating than Pansy’s but she was no less terrifying in Hermione’s mind. Those round, deer-like eyes and pink rosy cheeks might appear sweet and inviting, but Hermione had experienced first-hand just how quick-witted and sharp-tongued Daphne could be.

Malfoy’s mutterings pulled her out of her shocked state.

“For Merlin’s sake.”

Theo leaned forward where he was still perched on Hermione’s desk, meeting her wide eyes and turning up the charm in his smile, as if he could hear how her heart was hammering.

“What do you say, Granger? Willing to teach us the way of the Muggle?” He winked.

Instinct screamed at Hermione to order them all out, including Malfoy, and call Harry, Ginny, or Ron for support. Although she’d graduated from Hogwarts years ago now, the sight of the Slytherins plunged her back into her teenage years. Here she sat, surrounded by people who had bullied her, all for being Muggle-born. Yet, now they claimed a desire to learn about that heritage?

Suspicion and bafflement warred in her mind.

Why would they change their minds so abruptly? Had Malfoy’s mobile phone really been enough to tempt them into abandoning their prejudices? Or was this just part of another plan to torment her about her appearance and parentage?

Despite the cautious smile still frozen on Theo’s face, tension sat thick and heavy in the room. Behind Theo, all of the former Slytherins were watching Hermione with guarded expressions. She could feel Malfoy’s stare burning a hole in the side of her face.

Abandoning her nervousness, Hermione swallowed and straightened her shoulders. She could do this. She couldn’t avoid purebloods forever, and she could handle herself against them. Godrick, she was a war hero.

“Let’s go somewhere a little more relaxed for this conversation.” She looked over to Malfoy.

His shoulders were tense as he eyed her in return. “The café?” he asked.

Hermione shook her head. “I need something stronger than tea if we’re having this conversation. Besides, it’s almost lunch time.” She stood, analysing the group of witches and wizards in her office. All of them wore formal robes, as Malfoy had on his first days in the Ministry. He’d started to adopt more casual clothing, similar to her own robes, but they would all need to change if they were to travel into Muggle London.

She picked up her wand.

Theo knocked over a pencil holder as he stood abruptly from her desk, eyes wide with fear. He held his hands up, palms facing forward. Behind him, the other Slytherins had each taken a step closer to the door, Blaise angling Daphne to stand slightly behind him.

“Oh calm down, idiots.” Malfoy stood, rolling his eyes at his friends’ reaction. “Do me first, Granger.” He met her on the other side of the desks, eyes trained on her, steadfastly ignoring the others in the room.

Hermione waved her wand over Malfoy, transfiguring his robes into something more Muggle—this time, dark trousers and a white button-up shirt. It was formal enough that any Muggles they passed might suspect he was a young businessman or apprentice.

Theo visibly relaxed after watching her spellwork on Malfoy. He spread his arms wide.

“Have at me, Granger.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Hermione ignored Malfoy’s scoff beside her and changed Theo’s clothes to something similar. She sorted Blaise next, followed by Daphne, who she put in a summery maxi dress that matched her blue eyes. Hermione avoided Pansy’s glare as she reached the witch, transfiguring her robes into a simple, dark sundress.

Pansy examined the outfit with a critical eye.

“It’ll do,” she sniffed, making a few slight adjustments to the fit with her own wand.

Hermione sorted her own clothes last, transfiguring her robes into jeans and a loose blouse.

“Let’s go,” she said, striding out of the office and trusting that they would follow.

After a brief apparition across London and a ten minute walk further from the point she’d ordered them to, Hermione and her posse of former-Slytherins arrived outside a large Muggle pub with a beer garden positioned to overlook the Thames. Fortunately, they were early enough to find several free bench tables outside.

“I’ll grab a table while you all order drinks.” Hermione moved to hand Malfoy some money but he waved her away.

“I’ve got it, Granger,” he said. Annoyance still flooded his tone and expression; she could only hope it wasn’t directed towards her for bringing his friends along. Working together over the last week, they’d developed a strange sort of truce, an easygoing companionship. At times, Hermione had almost felt herself regarding him as a new friend. The thought of ruining that prompted a sour, twisting feeling in her stomach.

“What can I get you?” Malfoy asked, interrupting her spiral of worry.

“Vodka lemonade, please. A double.”

He nodded.

She grabbed his arm as he turned away, stopping him.

“Make sure they don’t say anything they shouldn’t.”

He gave her a flat look, but something in his eyes softened.

“I’ve been keeping this lot out of trouble for years, Granger. They’ll be fine.”

She dropped her hand and let him leave with his friends in tow. Turning to find a table, she ignored the way her thoughts lingered on the firmness of Malfoy’s bicep. Perhaps Ginny was right that it was overdue time for her to get laid.

She settled on a bench table tucked away beside a large, flowering bush, opening up onto the river on one side. People-watching to pass the time, Hermione listened out for any noises that might suggest Malfoy’s control hadn’t been as absolute as he’d promised. But, sure enough, the group of Slytherins made their way back to her ten minutes later, laden with drinks balanced precariously on several trays.

Almost immediately, Hermione found herself squished between Malfoy and Theo. Pansy, Blaise, and Daphne sat opposite them.

Malfoy placed her vodka lemonade in front of her and Theo placed an empty, slender wine glass beside it, depositing one in front of each of the rest of them alongside their other drinks. Malfoy had chosen a pale ale, while each of the others had chosen colourful cocktails, garnished with flowers and fruits.

“You bought champagne?” Hermione asked, feeling weak at the thought of how much money Malfoy had just dropped on a single round of drinks. Were they expecting her to pay that much when her turn came to cover a round?

“I asked the man behind the counter what was the best option for a celebration and that’s what he suggested,” Theo claimed.

“He only suggested that because it’s the most expensive,” she objected as Theo poured the sparkling wine into each of their glasses.

“Malfoy covered the tab, Granger. He can afford it.” Pansy rolled her eyes.

“Despite lowering himself to work at the Ministry.” Daphne smirked down the table at him.

“As an intern, no less.” Pansy grinned.

“Well, we all know the real reason—” Theo began, but Malfoy cut him off.

“Enough,” he hissed, the venom in his tone startling Hermione as she tried to follow their whirlwind of taunts. He turned to her, speaking in a much kinder tone, “we also ordered a few bowls of chips. The bartender said they’ll bring them over in ten minutes or so.”

“Oh, thank you.” She nodded and attempted to prevent any further bickering by changing the topic. “Why did you request something suitable for a celebration?” she asked Theo.

He nudged her shoulder with his own, bumping her against Malfoy, and picked up his glass of champagne, gesturing for them all to follow suit.

“This is cause for commemoration.” He waved his hand at them. “Squashing old rivalries, forging new friendships. If McGonagall could see us now, she’d shed a tear with pride.”

“Or she’d despair at the idea of the Golden Girl being led astray.” Blaise grinned, clinking his glass against the others.

Hermione took a long swig of champagne, planning how she could regain control of this situation despite feeling wildly out of depth.

“So, do you really all want to learn about Muggles or is this some elaborate prank?” she came out with the question that had loomed over her for the entire journey here. “Only because none of you were eager to embrace Muggle-borns at school.”

“People can change, Granger,” Pansy said. “You were probably too busy saving the world to notice the hostile situations most of us found ourselves in, but it wasn’t exactly safe or easy for us to explore different beliefs as teenagers.”

“What Pansy means is that we now know the errors of our ways,” Theo corrected, uncaring of the glare Pansy aimed at him. “A lot of Slytherins didn’t believe the propaganda against Muggles, even at school, but there was no opportunity to express those views, especially considering the divides Dumbledore encouraged between us and the other houses. It was easier to play up to the role most of you expected of us.”

“There were plenty of teachers and students at school that would have supported you if you’d expressed a desire to be more united,” Hermione objected, ignoring the jab at their former headmaster. She harboured her own complex feelings towards the wizard, but this was no place to explore those.

“Doing so would have meant disowning our families and heritage. That’s a lot to ask of children and teenagers who have nowhere else to go,” Blaise pointed out. “Particularly in the middle of a terrifying war in which we were being fed constant propaganda against Muggles and Muggle-borns.”

“Besides, I hardly think you would’ve been eager to help any wayward Slytherins that approached you. You looked ready to curse us when we walked into your office today,” Pansy said.

“She’s forgiven Malfoy easily enough,” Daphne interrupted. “Maybe she would have.”

“Malfoy apologised. Several times,” Hermione said, uncomfortable at the realisation that Pansy was correct—she would have struggled to trust Slytherins at Hogwarts, even if they’d approached her wanting to change their ways. She’d instinctively assumed the worst about their intentions, including Malfoy’s.

“I always say buying someone a drink is the best form of apology.” Theo nodded at the champagne in Hermione’s hand.

“Again, Malfoy was the one who paid—”

“Regardless.” Theo waved away her retort. “Hermione, I am truly sorry for the grief we gave you at school and for not doing more to help during the war. If I could change how everything went down, I would.”

Across the table, Pansy, Blaise, and Daphne murmured agreements, echoing the apology.

Hermione shrugged them off. “Thank you. Fine, I believe that you’re all trying to change. How much do you already know about Muggles?”

“As much as Malfoy,” Theo said. “Not much. None of our families encouraged it as a important part of our education. I think most of what they told us about how Muggles live was untrue.”

“And what do you actually hope to learn from me?” Hermione asked, sipping her drink again. Her face already felt flush from the alcohol. Theo topped up her glass. She hadn’t even started on her lemonade.

“Everything you’re teaching Malfoy,” Pansy suggested.

“That might take a while. Malfoy will be doing a lot of on-the-job learning.”

Blaise choked on his drink.

Hermione hesitated, glancing at Malfoy and hoping she wasn’t saying the wrong thing. Alienating him now was the last thing she needed since he was actually turning out to be quite useful. He was glaring at Blaise, a pink hue staining his usually pale cheeks. Alcohol must hit him as quickly as it did her, although he’d barely sipped either of his drinks.

“You can start by showing us where to buy phones.” Daphne spoke over Blaise’s laughter.

Hermione nodded. “That’s easy enough. I could show you at lunch one day next week or over the weekend. That would give you time to exchange some currency.”

“Perfect.” Pansy smiled for the first time, clapping her hands together.

“And after that?” Daphne prompted. “We can’t stop there. What else are you teaching Malfoy?”

“Uh, I was planning to start by showing him some more cultural things around London.”

“Let’s do that too, then,” Daphne suggested, quirking on eyebrow.

“Granger doesn’t have time to teach all of you constantly. She’ll be teaching me during the working week,” Malfoy snapped.

“We can be flexible to your schedule.” Theo smiled.

Hermione nodded, frowning slightly. “I’m sure I can work out regular times for us all to meet.” She took a sip of her drink for the courage to be vulnerable. “Sorry, I still feel a bit overwhelmed by all of this. I’m finding it hard to accept that you’re all happy to spend time with me learning about Muggles after making it clear how much you hated me and my friends at school.”

“Most of us didn’t hate you as much as you all thought,” Theo said.

“Yeah, Pansy had a real thing for Luna,” Blaise said.

Pansy’s eyes widened, knuckles turning white around her wine glass stem. Daphne whacked Blaise, scowling at him.

Hermione did a double-take. “You liked Luna? I thought you were with Malfoy?” She glanced between them.

Pansy cleared her throat, tone dry and self-depreciating as she responded. “What can I say, I guess my type is unavailable blondes—OUCH!” She grabbed at her leg underneath the table, sending a look of outrage towards Malfoy opposite her.

“Pansy has a vested interest in reaching out to you. We’re all convinced she’s hoping to bump into Looney—uh, Luna, on our path to Muggle enlightenment,” Theo joked.

“You still like her?” Hermione asked.

Pansy scowled. “This is hardly what we’re here to talk about.”

“Why were you so awful to her at school if you actually fancied her?”

“I suppose Slytherins show their affections by bulling—” she broke off with a hiss, clutching underneath the table again. “Will you stop that!” she snapped at Malfoy.

Hermione turned to the blonde at her side, still reeling from Pansy’s secret.

“Wow, Malfoy. If that’s true, you must’ve been infatuated with Harry.”

Silence fell over the table. Malfoy’s eyes widened a fraction. For a second, Hermione paused again, wondering if she wasn’t quite at the stage of friendship to join in with their banter, but sudden howls of laughter erupted from the Slytherins.

“Not quite.” Malfoy rolled his eyes, taking a deep pull from his drink.