Hello Austria
The Atrium of the Ministry of Magic was busy with witches and wizards going about their days, many darting through trying to secure a lift to their department before the morning rush kicked in. Others stood in groups casually greeting coworkers and friends before their day began. Hermione – the tea in her hand forgotten – tried to casually wave at Padma Patil and Cho Chang, chatting by the fountain. The liquid splashed over the edge of her teacup, coating the person ahead of her.
“I do not know how they raised you in the muggle world Granger, but tea is meant to be consumed, not worn, no matter how much fashion has changed.” A dripping Draco Malfoy sneered down at her. There was a wet tendril of hair and the damp spot on his shirt was rapidly spreading. He glowered at her as he pushed the offending strand out of his grey eyes.
The damp fabric clung to his pectorals and a dark outline was barely visible, almost as if he had a tattoo. Hermione licked her lips subconsciously until Malfoy cleared his throat.
“Are you checking me out, Granger? My eyes are up here,” he slid long fingers under her jaw, tipping her head back. Hermione stared up at him for a beat before pulling out her wand and pointing her wand directly at his chest. Her smile widened as he took a step backwards. Hermione had to give him credit: the flash of fear she saw in his grey eyes was smothered quickly.
“Good heavens, I am not going to hex you, Malfoy.” She cast tergeo to syphon the tea from his white shirt, the stain quickly disappearing.
“As if you could.” His retort was biting, but she could detect a hint of laughter in the tone.
Sometimes Hermione was just as shocked as the readers of Witch Weekly and The Daily Prophet that she and Draco Malfoy were on friendly terms. The first time the 8th-year group had been seen in public, Rita Skeeter and her lackeys had filled their column with so much speculation even Hermione wasn’t sure which member she was supposedly confounded by and/or sleeping with.
The shift between mortal enemies and ‘I wouldn't hex you in a dark alley’ was gradual between the opposing students; it still surprised enough people that several DMLE wizards were making their way across the Atrium. She moved into his space, catching a light floral scent on him, like a woman’s expensive perfume. Trying not to think about why that thought bothered her, Hermione grasped Malfoy’s elbow and steered him towards the lift. No reason to stand around and let the Aurors decide to detain them for no reason. Again. As they moved through the crowd, many openly gawked at them.
“What are you doing here so early, Malfoy? Even us peasants are just arriving.” She flashed her teeth at him. “Get lonely in that great big manor of yours?”
“I had a meeting with my best mate, Robards. Asking for more money for this and for that. You know how the Ministry is.”
Hermione did know. She knew that her department was desperately trying to scrounge up enough sickles to help cover the cost of the new influx of muggleborns attending Hogwarts this year. Yet department heads like Robards tapped into their mandated beneficiaries and had the funds the same day. Thinking about it as an individual almost made Hermione angry. It was unfair that the monetary stipulation of The Reformed had changed twice in the last few years. The Ministry used a reparation clause to renew the amount each member would need to donate to fulfil their sentencing.
“What was he asking for this time? More gold to get the entire Auror department tickets to the Quidditch World Series?”
“Cup. And yes, something like that.”
Draco swept a loose lock of platinum hair out of his eyes as he peered down at her. “However, thanks to your clumsiness, I have ducks to get in order and am now late to meet Zabini. Give Simon our best. Or is it someone new now? I cannot keep up with your beaus anymore.” He tipped his head and left her at the lift with a gentle insult. “Witch Weekley hasn’t updated us recently on the many loves of the Golden Girl.”
✧✧✧
She recognised the smell before she was halfway across level three. It was the twin’s birthday so she wasn’t sure why the heavy scent of citrus and florals startled her. For the last eight years, the same bouquet appeared in her cubicle, her sitting room, and once they even filled the backseat of her red Vauxhall Nova. She stepped around the thin grey divider of her cubicle to see every surface was covered in purple hyacinths and white tulips. The only open spot was directly in front of her chair as if the sender did not want to disrupt her day.
Setting her bag down on the chair, Hermione noticed the plain card that always accompanied the flowers. Sitting neatly next to it, her proposal to find the funds for Harry’s side project, she attempted to ignore it. She was not ready for the riddle the cards always set before her. They were always lines or quotes from famous muggle art. She wasn’t sure what the benefactor meant by the flowers or the cards, and of course there was never a name attached to them either.
The first year the flowers had appeared, it was in her living room as she exited her bedroom after a shower.
The following year, they were beautifully assembled throughout her loft when she returned from work. The third year, Hermione and Ginny hosted a game night with Harry, Ron, Luna, and a reluctant Neville Longbottom who had been spending a lot of time with his mystery girlfriend. Ron had even enlisted the twins to stake out the ministry overnight to catch the delivery. After an entire night of laughs, alcohol, and Pepper Up Potion, Hermione went to her car only to discover the entire thing was overflowing with tulips and hyacinths. She continued to keep an eye out for the flower's arrival, but after seven years, they were a reality she had come to accept.
After fifteen minutes of attempting to ignore the white card, her curiosity got the better of her. Hermoine glanced around as if the sender was looking over the top of her cubicle to make sure she read the card. Of course, every set of eyes was directed at her. Not much went on in the Department of Muggle Relations and with an office as small as theirs, any news was gossip. Sighing, she swivelled her chair to face away from Kiera Zeller, the office’s newest member (a Hufflepuff who spent most of her time gushing over Hermione. Just her face sometimes made Hermione’s stomach cramp). The card held a single line in a crisp, elegant script.
“My life is a perfect graveyard of buried hopes.”
-M
Pulling her bottom lip with her teeth, Hermione stared at the card. It was of thicker paper, slightly shiny. The stationary was plain, but there was a quality to it that let her know the flowers were not from someone within her social circle. No one she knew would care about paper quality, let alone spend money on it. There was nothing on the back as she turned it over in her hands. This was the first time the card had any form of signature though. Her brow furrowed as she took another look at the bouquet.
“They are not any different …” She mused aloud. They had the same heady mixture as every year. They were on time, not that she looked forward to the flowers every year, of course. Spinning her chair in a tight circle, Hermione gazed about the tiny area. Her favourite part about being a witch was using magic to improve a space. Though they were on the third floor, the Muggle Relations Department – like most of the ministry – was not in a prime location for window access. Hermione charmed a “window” for her tiny cubicle, giving her a view of the street above. Even though it did not open or access the outside, it was nice to have the illusion of a view. Every day she saw the artificial daylight, she was grateful to Arthur for giving her the idea for that little bit of magic.
It was by the window she noticed something out of place. A ruby tie clip glittered in the conjured sun, and the three chains dangled lower than the stone, attaching to a pin shaped like a lion. She knew it was a little flashier than most men typically would have picked; however, it fit the recipient: Cormac McLaggen.
They had dated off and on over the holidays when their busy schedules would allow, and while he was not as obnoxious as in school, Hermione had known they would not last. They were two unattached adults enjoying each other’s company. It was casual, meeting up for drinks after work, stumbling back to one or the other’s flats. There were no lingering goodbye kisses in the morning, but it was fun. Hermione tried to find fun where she could with how demanding her job had become.
Or so she had thought. He had stopped by on his way out last night to cancel their plans to get a drink at the Leaky with a few friends.
“Maybe this was a gentle breakup. No big scene,” Hermione mused until she noticed Zeller was still looking at her. She smiled tightly at the Hufflepuff.
“Kiera, did you notice anyone in the office this morning?” She did not want to start Ministry chatter, especially since Hermione was sure it was her office mate who had told Witch Weekly about her break up last year with Simon.
“Oh, yes. That pretty blond came around asking if you were in. When I told him you usually don't come in until eight, he said he would just leave your gift in your office.”
Kiera smiled but an edge made Hermione know she and McLaggen would be discussed between Kiera and whoever she could get to listen.
Hermoine closed her brown eyes briefly and ran a hand down her loose robes. She thanked Kiera and turned back towards her cubicle. With the other witch just across the walkway, she wouldn’t be able to get far, but moving away made Hermione feel better. Ignoring the knowing smirks from Keira, she returned to her chair and dove into her work for the day.
✧✧✧
“You weren’t there, Gin. Keira will make sure the entire office knows that Cormac McLaggen broke things off with me.” The words were muffled through the unruly curls surrounding her head as she talked into the table. Ginny laid a calm hand on her friend’s shoulder reassuringly.
“Oh, I am sure that won't happen. Keira is a good girl who wouldn’t dare cross – she would not spread untrue information.”
Hermione missed the hard glint in Ginny’s eyes, one usually reserved for her brothers when they were on her nerves. “I didn’t realise you were serious enough with McLaggen that you are so upset about it.” There was an inquisitive tone to Ginny's voice as she busied herself making tea in the small kitchen that had become her second home. Hermione finally lifted her head from the table, her eyes wild.
“I am not upset about MCLAGGEN!” Her voice was shrill. “I am just tired of the entirety of wizarding Britain knowing what is going on in my love life. You don’t understand, Gin!”
The redhead raised one delicate eyebrow as she handed Hermoine a mug that looked suspiciously like the orange creature currently curled up on Luna Lovegood’s lap in the sitting room.
“Oh no, how would I ‘Future-Mrs-Boy-Who-Lived first of his Chosen One title’ know anything about public breakups and having reporters turn up at your quidditch practices to ask you what you possibly could have done to let Harry Bloody Potter slip through your fingers? To be constantly hounded by them until you finally just lose it and announce during a press report that you are madly in love with another witch.” Her eyes softened as she glanced at Luna again.
“This is part of our lives as badass war heroines. If you wanted a quiet life, you should have asked that old rag to put you in Hufflepuff.”
“I would still love you both, Hufflepuff or other.” Luna’s airy voice drifted over to them, causing the fiery witches to glance at her and offer one another soft smiles as they joined her and Crookshanks.
When Harry told her that he and Ginny had broken up, she was shocked. She had imagined the couple moving into Grimmauld as they both navigated new careers, raising their three dubiously named children until it was time for them to be sent to Hogwarts with Hermione’s children. But as they became closer during their final year at Hogwarts, she could tell that when Harry had left the youngest Weasley behind to protect her, he doomed whatever was blossoming between them. Hermione understood his reasoning and even agreed to it, but she also knew that Harry and Ginny were too similar to have worked out if he could not trust Ginny to protect herself. The youngest Weasley had never needed someone to be her shield. By the time Harry had realised this, the damage had already been done. Thankfully, the pair had remained friends and holidays with the Weasley clan were still some of Hermione’s favourite moments.
Seeing Ginny snuggled into Luna’s side, sharing a cup of tea and chatting quietly amongst themselves, Hermione knew Ginny had made the right choice to end things. Luna softened Ginny’s harder edges, and Ginny brought out a passion in Luna that almost made Hermione jealous. The only time she ever felt a bit of fire kindle in her chest, sometimes lower if Hermione was going to be honest with herself, was when she was around a particularly insufferable blond, that she refused to name.
✧✧✧
“I heard that Slimey McLaggen dropped off a gift for Granger today, a bunch of flowers or something.” Theodore Nott’s eyes snapped up from the cards he had diligently been studying. Even though he knew he would fold his cards before the hand was over, he simply did not want to convey that to the table of lads in front of him.
“Now, Charlie Weasley, where would you have heard that tidbit? I thought McLaggen and Granger were over?” He reached for his glass of water, keeping his tone light. “Don’t tell me that The Prophet is running more lies.”
“Oh no, I believe they got your message loud and clear after the last article they ran about The Golden Girl. No, this came directly from Fred, who heard it from Oliver Wood, who insists he wasn’t eavesdropping on a conversation between some witches on level three.” Theo glanced briefly at Draco, the wizard sitting to his left with a glass of amber liquid halfway to his lips. When he noticed Theo’s blue eyes on him, Draco lowered the glass and narrowed his eyes at him.
“And why exactly do we care about this, Weasley? We are here to play cards, not gossip like a bunch of biddies who attend my mother’s Sunday brunch. Nott, when you told me you had invited the ‘cool’ Weasley, you assured us that he knew how to play Poke ’Em.” There was no subtlety in Draco’s change of topic. Theo rolled his eyes at the other members surrounding the table. Draco should have known better than to try to scare off someone who wrangled dragons for a living.
“I was just making conversation, Malfoy. I thought we were meant to be building bridges here. Or do you not want to add your prestigious name to the Refuge of Dragons? Actually, you would probably have a better name for it than that anyway.”
The group started to shout out different names for the Peruvian Vipertooth refuge Weasley was attempting to garner funds for.
"Dragonhaven!" Goyle suggested, which was a little too on the nose for everyone.
"Flameforged Refuge?"
"Oh, how about Blaise Haven? It is a play on words, you see?" Zabini grinned at his creativity. Names kept rolling in until Weasley smiled smugly as he placed two cards face up on the table. “Looks like I won again, mates!”
There was a collective groan as Marcus Flint, Neville Longbottom, and Roger Davies threw their cards onto the table.
“Do I collect my winnings now or…” Theo was almost grateful that the former Slytherins around the table dealt less in gold and more in favours. The more Theo watched Charlie Weasley play, the more he had a sinking suspicion he had been swindled, but owing a few favours to the dragon tamer could be beneficial, to both of them.
Cards at Nott Manor have become something of a monthly activity in the last few years. At first, it had been just the reformed Slytherins, but then Pansy had dropped Neville off like they were babysitters and demanded they bring the lad into their circle. While they had been friendly due to inter-house unity during 8th year, the group was not known to spend quality time together after they had all moved on from Hogwarts. Surprisingly, Longbottom had meshed seamlessly with the snakes, and it was easy to see why Pansy had started seeing the quiet man. Longbottom was now a regular on Saturday evenings. Draco even looked forward to seeing the former Gryffindor most days.
Usually, it was just Blaise, Draco, Theo, and Neville at these meetings, but occasionally one of them would extend an invite to someone from work, or play, in Theo’s case. It was well known he had been trying to get into Dragon Tamer’s trousers for ages.
Tonight though, there was more at stake. As Theo watched Draco gulp down his third firewhiskey since Charlie started talking about Ministry gossip, Blaise chucked his chin at the fireplace and looked pointedly at Theo, who nodded. The exchange spanned a matter of seconds, but Theo smiled at him as he dealt the next hand.
✧✧✧
Cormac McClaggen was tired. His work in The Department of Magical Games and Sports was tedious if he was honest with himself. Uncle Tiberius always made it seem like such a cushy job, but Cormac always left the office with a sense of dread that this would be his life for the next several decades. He used Hermione Granger as a distraction from the monotony of his life, but after Theodore Nott cornered him in the loo of a pub a few days ago he had decided to call the whole affair off.
He did not enjoy sneaking into Granger's office this morning and leaving her a gift as an apology without talking to her; however, Nott was… well, what Nott did or did not want wasn't of consequence. McLaggen broke it off, and that was the end of it. Plus, with the way that brunette in Granger's office was eyeing him, well, maybe it wasn't too bad that things were over with Hermione.
Though he would miss the cameras finding him when they went out… His thoughts distracted him enough that he did not notice the figure following him out of Diagon Alley. Only when rough hands slammed him against the brick wall did he realise the trouble he was in. Dark hands grasped his shirt collar, holding him in place.
“McLaggen, my boy. How are you?” The voice was unmistakable. Colour drained from his face as sharp cheekbones and a wicked grin came into focus. “I thought we had asked so nicely for you to end things with the mudblood?” The elegant voice of Blaise Zabini was hard.
“I did! I stopped seeing her like I was asked! Cancelled our dates and haven’t spoken to her!” His voice was higher than usual, shaky too.
“No matter.” Zabini continued without acknowledging McLaggen had spoken. “We have a better offer. Austria is looking to make some headway towards the Cup this year. How about we put your keeper skills to use and you go try out? I even put a good word in for you,” Zabini held up a dull grey sock, “Made sure to secure you an international portkey.” He tried to push against the hold he was in but Zabini pushed him back into the bricks. McLaggen’s breath was ragged as a forearm pushed against his trachea. “No need to thank me, McLaggen.” Zabini pushed a little harder and then let go. “I’ll let Kilpurn know you’ll be there at first light. I even had my elves pack your things. Again, no need for thanks. Just helping a friend out.” The taller man flashed a viscous, all teeth smile, patted him on the cheek, and strolled away.
For Zabini, it had been a nice chat. He liked it when people listened to him and he was certain that Cormac McLaggen would be going home to change his clothes and would be in Austria before the moon rose.
✧✧✧
When The Prophet was delivered the next morning, Hermione’s eyes widened at the headline in bold,. “Vienna Vanguard to acquire Cormac McLaggen for Keeper.”
The delivery owl left the window sill, and it was replaced by Luna’s barn owl, Tawny. If the first headline shocked Hermione, the second infuriated her. Staring up at her from the article Luna had carefully removed from Witch Weekly was a photo of Cormac leaving her flat a few weeks ago. Hermione crumpled the paper in her hand and dropped it into the trash. The headline of page six was still visible, its print flashing mockingly up at her.
” Golden Girl Jilted for Second Attempt at Quidditch
Third lover of Hermione Granger to leave the country in favour of better opportunities. What is the Golden Girl doing to drive away suitors?"