Notes of Affection

January 2, 2004

Today was just like every other day for Hermione. She woke up, got dressed, had breakfast, went to work, and came home.

Hermione used to think she would like to work as a healer or in a different department, like the Department of Magical Law Enforcement or the Department of Mysteries, in the Ministry, but the war changed all of that for her. Instead of it pushing her to do more good, it held her back. She had seen enough gore and had helped win a war for fuck's sake!

She just wanted an occupation that wouldn’t constantly remind her of her past. 

That’s how she found her current job. She was able to land the title of Media Liaison for Public Information Services at the Ministry of Magic, where she was mainly trusted with important press conferences. Apparently people of the public pay attention when she starts talking.

If only that were the case for people inside of the Ministry. 

You would think that being a war heroine and earning an Order of Merlin, First Class would earn you the respect of your coworkers. 

Every day was an uphill climb. No one listened to her and they treated her like the show pony of the office, there to look pretty and get public attention. 

Hermione was currently trying to get her bosses, including Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic, to listen to her current pitch. She wanted to have a gala to commemorate the sixth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. 

She wanted to honor her fallen friends and celebrate the new world they had helped create. 

It was exactly four months away and still no one would give her the time of day. They always made excuses regarding the funding or the planning. She had been trying to vent to Ron about her trouble at work, but even he only half listened. 

Ron and Hermione had been together for three years at this point. Tonight, he had gone out with some of their friends after work, but Hermione just wanted to go home and be alone.

It was Friday evening and she had just finished her dinner. She was sitting on her couch, with Crookshanks on her lap when her eyes fell upon a certain blue guitar on its stand in the corner of her sitting room. 

Ron hardly came to her place, she liked going to his so she would be free to leave when she liked. This also meant that he never saw her guitar or asked her to play. 

Only her closest friends from Hogwarts —Harry, Ron, Neville, Ginny, and Luna— knew that Hermione was passionate about music. She never sang for them, though, they just knew about it. She kept it a secret from everyone else, a way to keep anyone from taking it away from her. That worked for a while until the summer after sixth year, when the war took away her voice for a time. 

There was only one other person outside of their circle of friends that she let in on this secret. The reminder of him and their time together came every time she looked at the guitar in front of her. 

Hermione had been involuntarily thinking of him a lot lately. She had seen Draco and Astoria Greengrass’s engagement announcement in the Daily Prophet back in November. Hermione knew that Lucius had an agreement with Mr. Greengrass regarding a marriage between Draco and Astoria, she just never thought it would actually happen… until it did. 

She was now gazing out of her window, at the River Thames below. Hermione had a lovely two-bedroom apartment in muggle London. She was able to keep a bedroom and a room that held only her bookshelves, a piano, and anything else that pertained to her passions.

Except for this teal-blue guitar. This one was always out and on display.

She moved Crookshanks and went to grab a notebook and something to write with from her second room when inspiration struck her for the third time this week. She set them down on the wooden coffee table and went to pick up the guitar. 

This particular instrument has been getting a lot of use lately. Hermione had been feeling particularly inspired and the ideas just kept flowing. She had written two new songs since November and she wasn’t slowing down anytime soon.

Hermione typically kept these songs just for herself, it was a way of healing. Of letting out all of her feelings and thoughts. 

There was only one time that she sang an original song for someone. 

It was a Christmas gift for Draco in their sixth year. When he gifted her the guitar for her birthday, his one request was that she write him a song. And she did. 

Hermione had been lost in the lyrics of the song she had been working on for an hour when she heard a soft tapping on her window. 

She set the guitar and papers on her coffee table and walked to the window, opening it to see Pansy Parkinson’s —now Pansy Longbottom’s— owl with a note tied to its foot. She carefully untied the string and gave the owl a few treats to snack on while she opened the letter. 

“Meet me for tea tomorrow? Noon at the usual place? I have something to discuss with you.

-P.L.”

Hermione had heard enough good things about Pansy from Draco that it made becoming fast friends with her quite easy. Neville had also found a friend in her, but for him, it quickly grew into more. They were opposites in the best way. They just clicked. Pansy and Neville understood each other and helped one another through their grief. 

They got married a year ago. 

Hermione tore an empty page out of her notebook and wrote a reply to Pansy.

“Works for me. See you at noon.

-H.G.”

Hermione tied the reply to the owl’s leg, sent him on his way, and closed her window. She retook her place on the couch and picked up her beautiful blue guitar to resume writing. 

Pansy was sitting at a table on the sidewalk, already stirring her tea, and waiting for Hermione at their favorite restaurant in Muggle London. 

“Hi, Pansy!” Hermione said cheerfully as she approached the table. 

“Hermione! It’s so good to see you!” Pansy stood and gathered Hermione in a warm embrace before they both sat down, across the table from each other. 

“So how have you been? Tell me everything!” Pansy continued with a bright smile on her face.

Hermione added two sugars and a splash of milk to her tea and stirred it before taking a sip. 

Besides Ginny, Pansy had become one of her closest girlfriends. Ron hated that she was friends with Pansy, he was adamant that she still held certain traditional pureblood values. He refused to accept that Pansy had renounced the Deatheater way of life during their early years at Hogwarts. 

Pansy had actually influenced most of her friends, Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott included, to leave that mindset behind. According to Pansy, Draco Malfoy was apparently already halfway there, so he was an easy one to turn. 

Hermione shied away only a little bit. “Oh, you know, same old same old.”

“They still trotting you around the Ministry like a prized mare for publicity while saying it’s just because you’re a captivating speaker? Or have you decided to take my advice and start looking for a new job where your coworkers actually treat you like a human being?” Pansy said it with such conviction, like she had rehearsed it before she got here.

“Come on, Pansy, that’s not fair. I’ve always been good in front of crowds. And who can blame them? Even I can’t deny the fact that people pay attention to everything I do and say, even when I hate it.”

“I guess you’re right. Unless you’re not.” Pansy had a mischievous glint in her eye, like she was in on some kind of secret that Hermione wasn’t.

“What is that supposed to mean?” It came out sharper than Hermione intended. 

Pansy sat back in her chair and shrugged her shoulders, “What would you say if I told you I had a possible job offer for you? A job that you’d actually enjoy.”

Hermione eyed her warily, “I would say that you’re crazy and that I have looked for other jobs, but all of them sound worse than what I’ve got. But I would also hear you out and see what this possible job offer is.”

“Well, let’s just say that, maybe, a certain little brown-haired, plant-loving birdy told me that a certain classmate of ours is quite the songbird.” The conspiratorial grin pulling at Pansy’s lips made Hermione nervous. 

“Pansy, I don’t know if I like where this is going,” Hermione said cautiously.

Pansy leaned forward and laid her forearms on the table, clasping her hands in front of her. She turned halfway serious. 

“Okay Hermione, I’m just going to lay it out for you. Neville blabbed and let it slip that you’re into music. Not just into, actually, but pretty damn good, too.”

Hermione was confused. How could Neville know she was any good? She never let anyone hear her sing. She always made sure she was alone.

Pansy paused her explanation, “Stop looking like that, he heard you one night after curfew in the common room when you thought everyone was asleep.”

Of course, he had. Because that would be just her luck. 

Pansy picked back up in her explanation, “Anyway, as you know, I work for Republic Records at their London office and, well, I’m looking for a new artist to record a demo and possibly sign. Someone young and fun and exactly like you. You have life experience. I hear you also write your own songs, and I can bet they’re mostly, if not all, inspired by those experiences. You could really touch people, Hermione.” 

Pansy looked so sincere and hopeful. She truly believed that Hermione could make a difference, for the better, with her music.

She thought about it for a bit. She did love music, but it was always just for her. She didn’t like the thought of other people trying to dictate what she did with it. 

“I don’t know about that, Pansy…” Hermione said gingerly. 

“Come on, Hermione. You agreed, you have a captivating voice. Why not use it for more than Ministry press conferences?”

Pansy had a good point. But at the same time, Hermione had a decent well-paying job. Granted she didn’t love it, but it paid the bills, and she could have done worse. She was stable right now. Starting over in a sense was extremely intimidating. 

But it could be fun, too.

But Ron would lose it. He would be all, how could you let a Deatheater’s daughter talk you into quitting your job? Do you hear yourself right now, Hermione? Are you crazy?

That shut down her thought process immediately.

Hermione looked regretfully at Pansy. “I’m really sorry Pansy, but I can’t help you.”

“Hermione, don’t let your fear keep you from pursuing your passions.” Pansy had her eyes locked on Hermione’s so intently, that it felt like there was something that Pansy was trying to say without words.

“I’m not, Pansy. I promise. Again, I’m sorry that I can’t be of more help, but I’ll keep my ears open for any up-and-coming artists.” Hermione stood to leave but stopped suddenly when Pansy grabbed her wrist.

“If you change your mind, Hermione, you know where to find me.” Pansy smiled up at her and let her hand drop from Hermione’s wrist. 

Hermione nodded, turned on her heel, and walked to the nearest apparition point. 

She spent the rest of her weekend thinking about Pansy’s words, lost in her music. 

Monday morning was a drag. After she met with Pansy, Hermione was, involuntarily, seeing her life a bit differently. She couldn’t help but think, is this what the rest of my life really looks like?

Hermione stepped out of the lifts, on her way to the Ministry cafeteria to have lunch with Harry and Ron, when the former stepped up to her side, pulling her out of her spiraling thoughts. 

“Hey, Hermione!” Harry said enthusiastically as he looped his left arm with her right. 

Hermione looked over at Harry and laughed, “How is it that you always have the energy of a kid in Honeydukes, even on a Monday morning?”

Harry was about to respond when Ron ran up to them, buzzing with excitement about something.

“Guys! You will never guess what I did!” Ron said as he came to a stop in front of them. 

They just stared at him, knowing he would continue without being prompted.

“Kingsley liked my suggestion of hosting a gala to commemorate the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts! He said ‘it was a great idea’ and that he would get people to start planning it by the end of the day!” 

Hermione kept staring at Ron, and the tension in the air became palpable. Harry didn’t say anything either, he just side-eyed Hermione, trying to gauge her reaction. Harry knew that Hermione was advocating for an event to be held in honor of the day. 

Hermione and Harry had become really close, more like brother and sister than best friends, after the war. He understood her and she understood him. She could talk to him about anything that was bothering her and when she needed it, he gave advice otherwise, he just listened. Harry was only the second person in the world that she let hear her sing, except for Neville, apparently. Harry knew her better than anyone. 

Harry was also the only person to know about her relationship with Draco back at Hogwarts. Hermione was adamant about testifying at Draco’s trial, even after they had broken up, and she wanted Harry to help. He didn’t want to, but after Hermione showed him her memories of Draco from Hogwarts, he agreed. Harry saw what Hermione had seen. Draco was just a product of his father. A boy who had no choice.

Harry spoke first, trying to diffuse the tension, “That’s great, Ron. I’m sure it will be an amazing event.”

Ron knew that Hermione had been trying to talk to and convince Kinglsey to host an event honoring the anniversary. How could Ron do this? Ron looked to her for his next dose of validation, but she was not giving it to him. 

“Excuse me, I just remembered that I have an extra assignment that I forgot about.” Hermione turned back to the lifts and made her way up to the Minister of Magic’s office, leaving both men to have lunch alone. Harry knew better than to follow her. 

Once the lifts deposited her on the right floor, Hermione marched up to Kingsley’s office door and knocked on it, hard. 

She heard his voice from within, “Come in!” 

Hermione swung open the door and slammed it behind her once she was over the threshold. She was fuming and Kingsley could see it written all over her face.

“Hermione! How can I help you? Is everything okay?” Kingsley said, concerned, from his seat behind his desk.

“Maybe you can. I was just made aware that Ron suggested a gala to honor the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. And that you just loved the idea.” Hermione’s eyes had gone wide with fury. She began pacing behind the guest’s chairs. 

Kingsley started, “Hermione–”

Hermione was not about to be shut down now. Not again. Never again.

“No, Kingsley. I am so sick and tired of being paraded around to boost your image,” she stopped her pacing to point at him then resumed. “I am Hermione fucking Granger! War heroine and recipient of an Order of Merlin, First Class. Top of her class at Hogwarts and the Brightest Witch of Her Age! I am done with being disrespected and discredited by you and every other person in this damned building. I have done everything you asked of me, but the one time that I asked you for something, you ignored me at every turn. Only to turn around and listen to my idea only when it came from Ron.”

She stepped in front of the guest’s chairs and put her palms on Kingsley’s desk, letting her rage show in her eyes and her face before she said with deathly calm, “I am done, Kingsley, this is my resignation. Find yourself another Golden Girl to parade around.”

Hermione turned and walked to the door but stopped when her hand wrapped around the handle. She looked over her shoulder and spat, “Good luck finding another me.” 

Kingsley’s eyes went wide before she slammed the door on her way out. 

Hermione was shaking with adrenaline the whole way back to her office. She reached her office door at the same time that Harry had come around the corner, looking for her. When he saw the look on her face, he quickened his pace and was able to slip in right before Hermione slammed the door. 

She was really on a roll with slamming doors today.

Hermione was leaning on her desk when Harry asked, “Are you okay, Hermione? What happened?” 

She looked up slowly, “I quit.” 

“WHAT? Hermione while you know that I will always support you, this might be a bit rash. Why don’t you think about it before making a decision?” 

Hermione knew he was just trying to help, trying to be her voice of reason. But she didn’t need reason, she needed courage. And she had finally found it. 

She started stomping around her office, picking up all of her things and stuffing them into her extended work bag. “It’s too late Harry, I already told Kings—” Hermione was cut off by Ron barging into her office.

“Mione, I just heard someone from Kingsley’s floor say that you quit. Why would you quit?” He still didn’t get it. Hermione was starting to think he never would.

“Yes, Ronald, I quit. I am sick of being taken advantage of here. You knew that I was trying to get Kingsley to listen to my idea about having a gala, but you said it was your idea. I just cannot do it anymore.” Hermione said in a tired tone.

Ron looked at Hermione, offended, “Hermione, I was able to get it done, I don’t see why you’re so upset.”

It was at that moment that Hermione knew he would never get it, and she could see he clearly wasn’t trying. She had given him the benefit of the doubt for months now, making excuses when he acted like this, but she was tired of justifying their relationship to herself. 

“Ron, you always do this. You always put the blame on me but you can’t see your own mistakes. You don’t even try.”

He was shouting now, “Yes, I do! I just don’t see why everything is such a big deal to you.”

She wasn’t doing this anymore. Ron held her back, she just never wanted to acknowledge it. But now she realized that she had checked out of this relationship a long time ago. 

“That’s your problem, Ron.”

Ron was sputtering for words and he looked to Harry for backup that never came. Harry just held up his hands in defense, trying to stay out of an awkward situation with his two best friends.

Something changed in Ron’s eyes, like he realized there would be no changing Hermione’s mind, so he began to spit out whatever thought came into his head. 

“You know, I hate to break it to you Hermione, but the war is over. There are no more riddles to solve. You’re just the one the Ministry wants to be the face of it all. They don’t actually value you, you’re just another pretty face to them.”

It became very clear to Hermione at that moment that Ron was one of them. 

“Get out of my office, Ron. Now.”

“Are you listening, Hermione?” 

“Yes, Ronald. Loud and clear. Now you listen to me, whatever we had is done.”

Hermione stepped closer to him, only a few paces from him now, before looking him in the eyes and putting all the rage she felt into her next words.

“Get. Out.”

“Fine. Have it your way. I don’t know what you’ll do now, though. Kingsley will probably make it impossible for you to find a job anywhere else,” Ron said as he trudged out of Hermione’s office. 

Once Ron was gone, Hermione turned back to her packing. Harry spoke first, “That went well.”

“Harry now is not the time.”

“I know, I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it?”

Hermione turned back to her desk and put the last paperweight into her bag then spoke, “Maybe later, I have something I need to do first.”

Harry gave her a questioning look before Hermione clarified, “I’ll tell you all about it later.”

“Okay, well if you change your mind, you know where to find me.” 

Hearing those words again only solidified what Hermione thought she needed to do.

Hermione grabbed her bag and walked out of her office for the last time. Once she was home, she threw her bag down by the door and went straight to her living room. She grabbed a piece of parchment that was left on her coffee table from Friday evening and wrote two words before owling it off to Pansy. 

“I’m in.”