Peacetime

The Meeting

She was late. She had been for the past few weeks. Every meeting was like a dreaded trial by fire. She hated it. Hermione had started to hate a lot of things, she couldn’t remember the last time she had been excited about anything in her life. The more she aged, the less goal driven she became. Now, it was the same cycle over and over. Wake up with a splitting headache, take a hungover potion, shower, go to the ministry only to go back home needing a bottle of gin.

She ran to the apparition point a little way from her wards, almost tripping on her shoelaces. With a quiet pop she was inside the busy reception of the Ministry. The crowd was alive, she almost couldn’t hear herself think. The recent Hogwarts graduate popped out of her seat in the waiting room just as Hermione rushed past the giant wooden doors.

Over the years the Ministry rebuilt itself after the war, but the foundation remained the same. It was the same Ministry with new materials. Same design, same foundations held together with a delicate balance. Entering her office she threw aside her blazer on her chair, picked up necessary files and walked out.

The graduate, part of the intern program Hermione had forcefully participated in caught up to her. “Walk and talk, Stepahnie”. She was curt and monotonous, giving away none of the nerves that were eating Hermione up.

“You have a 10 o’clock, then a 2PM and then a recruitment meeting at 5.” She was out of breath, her heels clacking as she struggled to keep up with Hermione. Stepahnie was good, Hermione didn’t mind her at all, she was just in the way constantly. When Hermione had suggested to Kingley and administration to introduce an internship program for Hogwarts students to try and get a feel of their desired careers before final year, she wasn’t expecting to have someone in her position. Which technically was not even a position.

Stephanie’s feet caught at the door, her hands flew forward to grab Hermione to refrain from falling. Hermione closed her eyes and heaved a quiet sigh, Stephanie’s eyes shot up to meet hers with a sharp gasp. “I- I’m so sorry” she whimpered. Hermione gave her a tight smile, licked her lips and shook her head. “No more heels,” she instructed. She was answered with an eager nod. Hermione made sure she righted herself and moved to enter the Wizengamot chamber. She muttered quiet complaints and affirmations to herself, ready to fire back at any questions. She liked to be prepared, her job required her to be prepared for everything.

After the war, the rebuilding had required someone organised and dedicated, so Hermione had been coerced into leaving her aspirations of law making for project management. After the rebuilding she was placed as Kingley’s personal assistant much to her chagrin, so much so that she went to muggle university to study law and vyed to become the Minister for muggle relations. Or so she hoped, but no, the best friend of war hero Harry Potter was too recognisable to get a leadership position. Fat lot of dicks that was. So Hermione started working behind the scenes, she observed, looked for details, overlooked every department. She found the cracks at the seams, the weakest links. She plastered over them, strengthening the chains but she was falling behind. Failing. Everytime she brought something up she was dismissed. She hated it. It was an insult to her intelligence and hard work, so matter how much she wanted to keep the wizarding world together, they were failing. It was falling at the seams. Every memo sent was ignored, every meeting was unsuccessful. She tried everything. Everything.

There was a unanimous buzz when she entered the chamber, scanning the room she saw everyone was here for this meeting. Her eyes looked around to Harry who was sitting in front of the Minister’s ministers chair. His were filled with concern, hers with mischief. They’re all here she mouthed suppressing a smile. The concern was replaced with mirth as he mouthed back. At least we know they get our owls now. Hermoine was smiling unabashed now, a toothy grin as she sat down. Half her weight in stress started to dissipate, now she can get something done, address the concerns. Work. She’d never gotten to the solution stage of her job, it was always just finding problems. Now she can start her true job, it was 10 years coming but it’s finally happening.

Her skin started to tingle as Kingley’s walked, the tingle of needing to stand up and start pacing, the itch of wanting to reach into the pocket of her blazer and bring out her wand. It was a habit of the war, leftovers of a time long gone. She was always alert, always on the go and overly anxious, her senses on overdrive, the smallest change in the environment kicked in her fight or flight.

The noisy chamber quietened as the Minister took his seat, the under secretary sitting next to him flipping through the day’s agenda. Once he had everything in order, Percy cleared his throat, clasping his hands together on the desk.

“It’s almost the 10 year anniversary of the battle”, he began “we should host an event to ensure good morale and spirit. The election should be coming up, if we want to continue as we have and re-elect Minister Shacklebolt we need to show good faith.”

Hermione’s blood ran cold, the pen she had been fidgeting with froze mid-air, she all but dropped it. No one noticed, the meeting continued to iron out the details of an oh so important party. Yes, a party. That is exactly what it was. A fucking party so that they could show off just how well adjusted the wizarding society was. A facade. It was all coming apart and none of them cared a single bit.

Hermione scanned the crowd, not bothering to pay attention to the conversation at hand. It was like she had been transported back to Hogwarts, back to a particularly boring divination class in third year, not a single one of them was paying any attention. Harry was rolling his eyes, playing absentmindedly with his tie. She suppressed a smile by licking her lips and moved her eyes forward. She saw Ron staring off into pace, eyes blank in a disheveled state. She saw Theodore Nott doodling on his desk. She saw Daphne Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson whispering in hushed tones, trading secrets. She saw Blaise Zabini swinging in his chair. She kept scanning until she met a pair of cold gray eyes, she narrowed her eyes at Malfoy, silently questioning him. There was no reason for him to watch her. There was also no reason for him to egg her on, flicking his eyes to Percy and raising a thin blonde eyebrow. A challenge. An invitation to shake the system. She tilted her head and raised two eyebrows as a response. There was no response. Over the years Malfoy had stopped existing for her, to think they were volatile teenagers on completely opposite sides of the war, but one decision had changed history. He’d been one of the only death eaters to stay in the shadows after the war. He put his head down and did his job managing intelligence. He was not the same prejudiced and spoilt teenager, the war had cost everyone something, but it had given him a new chance.

They hardly ever interacted unless it was through his friends who had become Hermione, Harry and Ron’s friends, she just hadn’t felt the need to talk to him. All of her classmates and those who survived Hogwarts in those war years had developed a unique bond. An almost unshakable trust and relation. They say shared trauma forges unbreakable bonds, that’s what happened to her year. They were at the centre of a traumatic event and had reached out, across beliefs and opposite sides to their reflections.

Hermione hadn’t felt the need to contact him personally, Which is exactly why this interaction confused her. He had to know something, maybe he was just good at reading people and could see Hermione’s visible rage. Maybe he was keeping tabs on her. Maybe he was just seeing the same things that she was seeing. She maintained eye contact with him, time ticked by, he was like a statue, not even blinking. It had turned into a staring contest, the only sign of movement was the way he clenched his jaw. She got the message, whoever loses speaks. Suddenly there was a gust of wind that made her hair fall into her eyes, forcing her to turn her head. She’d lost. She looked in the direction of the wind, seeing Harry put away his wand, her jaw dropped. He held up his hands, palms facing her and nodded to Percy.

Hermione let out a flustered sign and held up her hand, feeling chastised and put on the spot. She heard snickers as she waited, without a doubt she knew it was her Hogwarts classmates. She rolled her eyes and looked at Ron, who gave a small encouraging smile. A smile twitched on her own lips, Ron was always a cornerstone, no matter how much they fought, how much his wife hated Hermione in their life, Ron and Harry remained constant.

Her nerves dissipated as she cleared her throat. No one listened. “Mr Weasley”, she called out to Percy. Still no response.

“Per-”

“EXCUSE ME!” she was cut off by a loud voice on her left, she lowered her hand as the room fell silent.

“Yes Mr Nott, can we help you?”

“This is what the meeting was for? To plan a party?”

“It’s more than just a party, actually, it’s a remembrance of the dead, a celebration of resilience and a showcase of our progress” Percy was getting annoyed, there was a clip to his tone, the usual Percy Weasley manner of talking, down his nose, eyes almost crossed. This time Hermione couldn't contain her laughter. A cackle that could make children cry, the type that mothers would use on them to make them sleep. Everything stopped. All eyes moved to her. Percy and Kingsley looked at her wearily with barely widened eyes. Hermione would bet her entire Gringotts vault to be correct. They weren’t expecting any resistance, least of all from from.

“Something funny, Hermione?” She stopped abruptly, “it is actually,” she replied. “I’m sorry, I thought I heard you say it ‘showed our progress’,” she quoted for effect, a giggle echoed from left to where Blaise was still swaying in his chair. Percy opened her mouth but she continued her ramble barging through the tension with sheer will. “There has been no progress in the Ministry, I am testament to it. Tell me, how many revolts have we had from the goblins during the past ten years? How many reports of elf deaths due to negligence? How many giants are being forced to move away? How many muggleborns are declared missing under mysterious circumstances?”

She paused for a breath, the chamber was a cemetery, not a single sound escaped from anyone, it was like everyone had collectively stopped breathing, except for her. Hermione hadn’t felt this alive since the battle. Ten years for her to speak out and it had been because she lost a staring contest to a former death eater. She held everyone’s attention, she knew she had eyes on her but she looked directly at the Minister. “Tell me Minister, is it really a showcase of our progress or is it a brag of your victory? Ten years ago, when you took that chair, you pledged to be better. I’m sorry to say that you failed.”

“Miss Granger, if this is an issue about how underutilized you are, I’m afraid your skill set would never have fit in the Ministry.” This was the first time he had spoken, his voice gravelly, with a hint of being faked. He’d adopted this as a part of his PR image right after the war, as he was vying for people to vote him into a position of power. Hermione had seen how he was before the power trip, the kind humble teacher doing everything to help anyone in need. To do the right thing. He was starting to become a living breathing allegory of absolute power corrupting absolutely.

She frowned at his clipped attack, tilting her head to understand what he was trying to say. “What are you on about mate?” Ronald Weasley was never far away from coming to his friends’ defense. “Are you trying to say Hermione isn’t good enough?” Harry Potter had jumped in.

“Well she’s hardly qualified, we can’t keep paying her to have an office in which she does nothing but try to find non-existent evidence to support her delusions. She thought she was too good to stay for the 4 years of Auror training, no matter how much of a knowitall she is.” His words hit her like a bullet but Kingsley showed no sign of slowing down. “She’s a muggle born, she doesn’t know how our world works and she has been wanting to make changes from behind the scenes while I try to save face. Do you have any idea how much of the budget I have to set aside for her? And she does what exactly? Approve care programs? Organize parties? Drink?”

There was a gasp at the end of his speech. She didn’t know who it came from. Time stopped. She took a deep inhale, a sharp exhale to calm herself before she said in a dead voice, “I quit.”

“What? Hermione think this through, please” She barely heard Harry. Too busy staring down Kingsley. “You will know my role when it’s empty and you’re requiring a cleanup crew. Let me see you try and plaster the cracks when I leave. No one here knows exactly what you make me do. Don’t worry,” she felt a diabolic smile on her face, “I won’t tell them” she coddled.

She moved to stand, pushing her chair so hard it tipped over. After collecting her things nodding to her friends, she started to walk out of the chamber. Before walking out of the door she looked back at Kingsley, “Good luck on your campaign,” she mocked in a sweet voice and left.