I am Living Badly, Disgracefully
It started with the Head of DRCMC, poor thing. He keeled right over at the table during lunch with a wealthy donor, red-faced and foaming at the mouth. Coincidentally, Hermione was at the same restaurant at the time and even conversed with him right before. She was devastated, of course.
She couldn’t be blamed for applying for the position a few weeks later. It obviously needed filling. When she was granted the promotion, she was perplexed that the petition to remove Centaurs from land recently purchased by that same donor mysteriously disappeared. Paperwork gets lost, sometimes.
A few years and loads of creature rights later, Hermione was blindsided by the same scenario with the Head of International Magical Co-operation. The woman was seated across from her at a ministry function. Hermione watched as she fell to the floor convulsing, eyes bulging. It was traumatizing, truly.
Naturally, Hermione felt obligated to fill that position as well. It was only right that her first act was granting the stalled asylum to the Magical Middle East during their war.
It was announced that a serial killer was lurking.
“You better watch out, ‘Mione.” Ron warned her over dinner, mouth full. “They’ll be after you next.”
She tittered and shrugged him off. She noticed Harry’s eyes narrow in her direction.
When Hermione became Undersecretary to the Minister, she invited Harry for drinks to celebrate. They toasted her accomplishment. The room starts to spin. The last thing she remembers is Harry grabbing at his throat.
Her mind clears as she swallows liquid tilted into her mouth.
“Stupid witch, what were you thinking?” Draco asks, face twisted.
“Harry was getting suspicious, therefore the DMLE was too,” she replies groggily. “I had to throw them off.”
He glares at the hospital floor. “Potter’s dead.”
Her breath hitches.
“This is getting very Nero of you,” he says roughly.
Hermione traces the line of his jaw with her weak fingers.
“Every Nero needs their Locusta to rule the empire,” she whispers.
He kisses her deeply, desperately.
“Don’t forget how their stories ended,” he whispers back.