Unspoken

Hermione grumbled continuously under her breath as she triple checked the contents of a worn but professional work bag.

The world outside was still dark beyond the windows of the flat. Crookshanks, in what she considered a deep betrayal, had promptly curled into the remains of the warm bed as she had vacated it. He had even flipped his bushy tail over his face when she turned the lights on, as if she was doing him a disservice. She had called him spoiled and the kneazle had simply snored in response.

The hours Granger had kept at work were insane. What sort of workaholic automatron had her predecessor been to work 16 hours a day, Monday through Friday? But Merlin forbid that anyone should figure out that Hermione Granger was not Hermione Granger so there was no option but to put on another set of boring black work robes and ready herself for her first day at work. 

She placed a hand over the purple planner in her bag and took a deep breath. The remainder of Saturday and Sunday had been spent mostly poring over Granger’s notes regarding the Ministry of Magic and the Department of Mysteries. Hermione was both relieved and satisfied to find that she understood the method with which the notes had been laid out as well as the details of the notes themselves. It was brilliant, if she was honest with herself. Granger had written unabashedly about her - how had she put it? Acumen. But it appeared that Granger had had reason to think well of her abilities. Going into work would be the test to see if any of that genius had carried over. The information had all made sense, even if it was brand new to Hermione, but putting that information into action was another skill altogether. 

Steeling herself to use the Floo again, she ran over the directions in her head on how to get to her office once she was in the lobby of the Ministry. There had been a bit of a map-like diagram with guidance about the lift and a number of security protocols but Hermione wouldn’t be able to hold the planner in front of her and keep checking it until she ended up in the correct room. She also couldn’t keep delaying. The longer it took her to get to work, the more full the lobby would become and Granger had warned against that.

It was time to step into the magical world for real. 

-------

Her heels clacked against the hard wood as the warmth from the green flames faded behind Hermione. A mostly empty atrium loomed ahead of her and she paused to take it in for the very first time, brown eyes wide with reflections of dancing golden symbols and a lone purple paper airplane that flapped tiredly about. There were several large columns of windowed offices overlooking the lobby but very few of them had a light within. She really was one of the first to arrive. 

The quiet was almost pleasant. There was not a single other person to encounter as Hermione hastily made her way to the lifts. No one around meant she could let her Granger persona drop - just for a few moments - as the metal doors to the lift creaked shut after she hit the button marked for Level Nine.

Hermione wasn’t sure whether she was a nervous person. Not yet. She hadn’t existed long enough to know. She certainly felt nervous, her ears slightly ringing as the lift began to move downward. Granger had not come across as an anxious person in her letters and notes. Was this how she had felt on her first day at this job? Did others have this impending sense of doom and distress? Others probably weren’t masquerading as themselves while attempting to avoid a shadowy entity out for their blood, though. Probably. 

Hopefully.

She gasped as the lift suddenly changed direction, her heels sliding on the metal flooring as everything shifted to the right. Her ass hit the floor as everything lurched forward next. Was the lift gaining in speed? Bracing herself with one arm against the lift wall, Hermione could feel her bones rattling and only just noticed the swaying velvet ropes above her head that were probably there for riders to hang onto during the turns. That little detail hadn’t made it into the notes. With a squeal of metal on metal, the whole thing came to a halt and a voice announced, “Level Nine. Department of Mysteries.”

“Bloody hell…” murmured Hermione, hauling herself ungracefully back up onto her feet and shifting her bag back onto her shoulder. It took a few attempts to spit out the bushy tangle of her hair that had invaded her mouth before she gave up and used her hand to push it back behind her ear. She was so busy checking her shirt buttons that she didn’t notice the young woman waiting next to the lift in the hallway. 

“BLOODY HELL!” she shrieked in earnest this time, jumping backwards and just managing to grab one of the ropes this time to keep from finding herself on her ass again.

The young witch was extremely distressed in response, bowing over and over again as she made her apologies. “I am so sorry, Ms. Granger! I didn’t mean to scare you! You told me during the interview that you came in very early in the morning and I wanted to be sure to start right away in case you needed something. I already received my clearance on Friday, and I supposed I should have just waited next to your office, but I thought that maybe you’d want a cup of coffee to start your day, and I didn’t know where the staff room was, so I thought I’d head up to the canteen, but the lift was taking forever, and-”

Hermione eyed the woman as she continued on and on and on, until finally holding up a hand to cut her off so she had a chance to step out of the lift. The golden grilles closed behind her and the lift lurched upwards and out of sight, leaving them alone. The witch was definitely younger than her, maybe a year or two out from school. Pale and bright skin, glossy chestnut hair cut in a plain bob around her shoulders. Quintessentially British. She was dressed professionally and the little badge pinned to her wizard robes read “Elizabeth Thwhistle, Department of Mysteries.” It matched the one Hermione had found in the flat that was now gleaming on her robes. 

“Please don’t apologize. I simply wasn’t expecting you this early. I’m usually the first one in. As I said.” she added to the end quickly, giving what she hoped was a reassuring smile to the assistant Granger had apparently hired prior to her demise. There had not been any mention of an Elizabeth or a Thwhistle in the purple planner, but maybe there had been no time. The planner has been at Gringotts - not in the flat.

Elizabeth brightened considerably and only gave one more bow and offered to take Hermione’s bag for her. She declined, which left them both awkwardly waiting for the other to move or say something. Since she was supposed to be the senior employee, though, Hermione stretched her smile to hide her unease and waved her hand down the corridor. “Shall we then?”

Luckily for Hermione, there was only one door within sight of the lift and Granger had promised that door led to the Department of Mysteries. Elizabeth stepped just behind her elbow and followed her new employer dutifully, if a little too close for comfort. But despite running through all the worst possible case scenarios in her mind, the doorknob turned under Hermione’s hand and opened into a circular room with even more doors along the curved wall. A small desk was occupied by a sleepy looking attendant who straightened their back quickly and nodded at the pair of women.

“Mornin’, Ms. Granger.” he intoned brightly, “You’re a wee bit late this mornin’, ain’t chya?”

He held his palm forward and she handed him her wand, as the planner had instructed her to do. As he fiddled with it, doing whatever he was supposed to be doing, she carefully placed her right palm on a glowing piece of glass or crystal or whatever clear sort of tablet was installed in the desktop, willing her hand not to shake and give her nervousness away. Would this undo the glamour charms she had placed on herself to hide the bruising? The glow held its golden hue, confirming her magic signature as Granger had explained it in the planner, and the attendant nodded satisfactorily with not a word about her facial features as he handed her wand back.

Hermione smiled with relief and nodded at Elizabeth, who stepped forward eagerly to run through the same process. “I ran into my new assistant on my way down.”

“Ah, yes, Ms. Thwhistle! Got your clearance right here. Had it delivered on Friday - rather fast turnaround wouldn’t you know. Congratulations, miss! Don’t you be keepin’ the same hours as this one - and don’t you keep her in the office all day and night, Ms. Granger. Regular folks need fresh air and sunshine.” 

Hermione turned to inspect the doors that led into the interior of the department as her new assistant finished her security check. The run in with the young witch had thrown her off. She couldn’t remember which specific door led to her section of the department. A few more moments and Elizabeth would be expecting her to lead them back to her - their - office. Quick thinking was imperative. Wracking her brain, she nibbled on her lip right up until she heard Elizabeth step up behind her.

“Since it’s your first day, why don’t we take a quick tour?” she suggested, opening the door closest to them and ushered them both through.

A quick glance around the room and Hermione immediately recognized this section as the Time Room. Granger had noted the sparkling light that illuminated the long chamber. She paraphrased the notes she had diligently memorized as she took Elizabeth along through more doors and corridors, glad that the other DoM employees were not yet in to interact with or to ask her questions.

It also gave Hermione the opportunity to take a look around the different divisions without needing an excuse for her wandering about. The younger woman gazed around adoringly as though amazed that she had been given access to all these wonders, too distracted to notice anything peculiar in her superior’s furtive glances. She took a gamble of being known as a workaholic and pulled the purple planner from her work bag, glancing at it as though to check her daily schedule.

Perfect - after the Brain Room, her work suite was next on the little map. 

As the large heavy door closed behind her with a thud, Hermione rattled off a few facts about the research previously conducted by this division to impress Elizabeth. It was a little hard to see as the lighting was dim but the piece de resistance of the department was front and center - a large tank of green fluid with floating brains. Granger had been firm about steering clear of the tank itself and leaving the research here to the experts. 

“Please make sure you don’t touch the brains,” she warned Elizabeth, who took a step back with abrupt concern.

“Make sure you don’t touch anything.” 

A shadow moved out from behind the backside of the brain tank, the dim light reflecting off the figure’s blonde hair. Even without seeing his face, she knew the man. The Malfoy guy who had been haughty with her at the bank. He stepped closer, a crisp white wizarding lab coat swishing around his legs as he stared at them questioningly. The angle of the lamp light gave his otherwise handsome face a displeased character.

“Mr. Malfoy, so sorry,” she explained, heart quickening at his abrupt appearance, “I was not aware you had already come into the office. I was just giving my new assistant a tour-”

The moment Hermione dropped his name, the younger witch sucked in a breath and shifted into a position fully behind her boss’ back. Those grey eyes that had unnerved her the day before flashed momentarily at Elizabeth and his lips hinted at a sneer. But he said nothing to Elizabeth and turned back to the tank.

“I ask that you leave quickly now that you’ve been through.” 

“Yes, of course. Please let me know if you need anything.” The offer rolled off her tongue before she could take it back.

He glanced at her momentarily and gave a slow nod. Coming off their interaction from yesterday, Hermione was suddenly conscious that she was wearing the same blouse - she had refreshed it with a scourging charm but it had been the only piece she had liked in the whole closet after going through it twice - and wondered if the clean cut wizard had noticed as well. 

Damnit.

She hastily nudged Elizabeth towards a door along the wall to their left which opened into a corridor of offices, trying to ignore the burning sensation of being watched. After counting one, two, three doors, Hermione entered her suite of offices and allowed her assistant a moment to put away her belongings at the front desk before shuffling her along in the direction of the staffing area for a drink with a promise of providing Elizabeth with a calendar and list of protocols to start reviewing for her first day.

This first moment in her office, this other sanctuary she’d be spending many hours of her time in, Hermione wanted that for herself. Plus it wouldn’t do to seem unfamiliar with her own files and desk in front of the assistant.

Turning the doorknob, Hermione stepped through the threshold and looked at the room around her. It was more spacious than she had assumed it would be, larger than either the living or bedroom back in the flat. Both walls to her left and right were floor to ceiling bookshelves and hexagonal hive-inspired shelving that held hundreds of scrolls. The large wooden desk in the middle of it all was covered, just absolutely swamped, in scrolls and paper and quills and books. Just in front of the chair was enough space for something the size of her planner, but no more. A couple of windows let in some sunlight - this far down underground they must be enchanted. But the wood and the light and the smell of parchment and orchid emanating from the delicate flower on one of the window sills felt homey. More so than the flat had. 

She walked around the desk, dropping her work bag on the floor and sitting in the chair. It was supremely comfortable and Hermione took a few seconds to enjoy twisting back and forth. She ran the tip of her finger around a water circle where Granger’s must have kept her coffee cup. Around the room, Hermione noticed labels on almost every single shelf with dates and subject headings. An inspection of one of the desk drawers showed the same type of filing classification. Something about the detailing and the tiny handwriting on each label made her think that Granger had set up this filing system for herself rather than her future self. She closed the drawer and picked up the stack of papers closest to her, flipping through it.

It contained a copy of the hiring and background papers for one Elizabeth Thwhistle. So Granger had hired this young, very young, woman only last week. A list of interview questions that, with notes marked down in Granger’s handwriting, had a date of Friday, October 28th. The new administrative assistant was a little over the age of nineteen and had apparently finished a graduate certification in Arithmancy after studying at Ilvermorny in the United States. She had excelled at charms and transfiguration, but the arithmancy background seemed to be what had raised her in Granger’s esteem. Her family was British, her father was muggleborn and her mother a witch. There were notes that they had immigrated when Elizabeth was very young. The moving photograph attached to the page with her basic personal statistics matched her assistant completely, with a bright smile and a small blush cresting her nose as the figure in the photo moved her head back and forth to ensure her features were at their best angle. 

Underneath the folder of personnel papers was a brand new desk calendar with a shimmering golden seal of the Ministry of Magic in one corner and a small booklet of policies and procedures for the Ministry and their department, respectively. Granger had already prepared everything for this morning in advance, which Hermione supposed shouldn’t surprise her at this point. She was also very glad for the copy of the position description and outlined duties which she had found at the bottom of the stack. Hermione got so caught up in reading some of Elizabeth’s answers from the interview that she didn’t notice her entering the office with a cup of coffee.

“Oh, um, that isn’t your job you know. I - thank you.” She did her best to hurriedly push some of the papers away without toppling anything over and Elizabeth set the cup and saucer down. 

“My pleasure, Ms. Granger.” 

Hermione quickly insisted, “No, please, Hermione is fine,” and eagerly reached out for the coffee. There was barely any food left in the flat now, but she hadn’t had time to figure out that particular issue yet. She brought the cup up to her lips only to immediately grimace as she took a sip of the bitter, earthy drink.

“May I really?” Elizabeth’s eyes widened as did her smile. “Thank you, Hermione. Um… is the coffee okay?”

She resisted the urge to spit the coffee back into the cup and gulped it down. “Sorry, I’m more of a tea person. In the morning. With, um, milk and sugar.” 

“I’m so sorry! You were drinking so much coffee during our interview, I just assumed-”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. I - that was a busy day, I needed the extra caffeine.” lied Hermione, wondering what else Elizabeth had noticed in the course of one interview that she’d need to be careful about.

“I’ll go get you a cup of tea right away, Ms. Granger,” the assistant assured, grabbing up the cup and hurrying towards the door.

“No, really, it’s not your job-”

“English Breakfast okay?” Elizabeth dared her to protest again with her determined gaze.

Hermione smiled gratefully. “Anything black would be lovely, thank you. Two sugars, please. And it’s Hermione.”

The younger witch’s eyes glazed over with glee when she was given her own official government stationery and became deeply engrossed in the policy booklet when she wasn’t popping in with some interoffice memos or calendar updates for the rest of the week. After some settling in - and a cup a brisk, amber Ceylon with two sugars and a generous pour of milk - Hermione got to work.

Not a single soul called on her before after lunch, which had been a heavenly autumn salad with chicken, halloumi, and chickpeas delivered by canteen staff that Granger supposedly pre-ordered every Monday. At least here, they could agree on taste - the salad had been excellent. It appeared whatever her position within DoM was, it came with certain perks that she was all too delighted to take advantage of. If lunch tomorrow was as tasty, no wonder Granger hadn’t bothered stocking the kitchenette.

She’d thought very briefly about testing for poison but didn’t want Elizabeth to ask questions. Would the persons responsible for the carnage she had been born into be the type to rely on something as traceable as poison? Hermione wasn’t sure and honestly, there was too much work to think about things like her potential murder.

After reading through a stack of proposals, imposter syndrome hit Hermione hard as she dithered about denying some of the projects outright to the point that she set aside her chosen approvals for another look over tomorrow. Granger had explained her approval process in the purple planner and it had made sense once she eventually talked herself into starting the work. But there were overwhelming emotions about making such big designs on her first day at the job. What if the proposal she denied had pissed off some bigwig upstairs? What if she approved something that Granger had denied before because she would not recognize a resubmission? At the very least, Hermione planned on waiting a day before asking Elizabeth to send them on to an older wizard named Painswick, whom Granger had listed as the current Secretary for the Department of Mysteries, and thus, her boss.

Now it was after lunch and she had begun the task of reviewing budget requests -  some nutter had submitted a form trying to outline a justification for the purchase of sand from banks of the Nile at the cost of 500 galleons a vial - when her door opened and Elizabeth popped her head in.

The assistant’s cheery smile was gone and she fidgeted apprehensively before saying, “I’m sorry, Hermione - he doesn’t have an appointment but he’s insisting on seeing you right now.”

Hermine looked up from her desk and knitted her brow. Damn, but she had been hoping to make it through this first day without interacting with anyone beyond her secretary. Was it Painswick? Granger had hinted he was a bit of a micromanager. “Who?”

“Draco Malfoy.”

Double damnit. 

Hermione put the budget files down and tried to sit up straight as possible in her chair, slipping discreetly into the heels under her desk that she had kicked off for comfort midday through the morning. If he didn’t have an appointment, she should probably tell him to make one, but she had told the man this morning if he needed anything to come see her. Curse whatever built-in manners Granger had apparently left her with.

“Let him in please, Elizabeth. And ask him if he’d like any tea.”

“No tea, thank you.” Malfoy announced as he stepped past Elizabeth. The wizard stared at the young witch pointedly until she closed the door then turned his attention to Hermione. He was simmering with anger.

“Would you care to take a seat?” she asked him, flicking her wand so that the stack of scrolls occupying the only other chair the room floated off into a corner. 

“No.”

To the point then. “How can I help you, Mr. Malfoy?”

“You can ‘help’ me by approving the initial funding for our project that I requested two weeks ago, Granger. Goldstein assured me that we submitted all the proper forms. We can’t start on the research past the preliminary procedural tasks without you releasing the gold so what in damnation is the hold up?” He placed two hands on the back of the guest chair and leaned on it, gripping it as though to keep his temper in check.

She shuffled quickly through the stack she had just been working on and found the form he was talking about at the very bottom. Literally folded in half so that she almost missed it, on the bottom. Across the top was a scrap of paper affixed with a temporary Sticking Charm, with a frowny face and a question mark. Hermione lifted the note off the form and turned it over, but the back was blank. Her mouth curved downward to match the frown on the note. It appeared Granger had some kind of grievance with this project. 

Apparently Malfoy knew that as well, given the angry pursed mouth and rigid posture as though expecting her to refuse him outright. That would explain the chilly attitude at the bank.

Lovely. 

Hermione wadded up the scribble quickly in case those piercing eyes had some kind of magical zoom vision and nibbled her bottom lip to keep her mouth from twitching in irritation. Dear Merlin, she was not up for a fight on her first day. “I apparently owe you another apology - things have been a bit disorganized and your request slipped into the bottom of the pile. With my new secretary, hopefully this won’t happen again. Let me review it now, is that alright?”

Malfoy gave a dark chuckle, rolling his eyes and standing up straight again. “Really? Slipped to the bottom, did it? You are the Under Secretary for this department. You had the highest marks of anyone in the past decade at Hogwarts. I would think that you would be ashamed that you work sodding fourteen or fifteen hours a day-”

“Sixteen…” she muttered under the breath, cursing her predecessor for once again leaving her in this mess.

“- And yet still can’t manage to get to a request that is now two weeks old? What happened to Hermione Granger, Brightest Witch of our Age?” he finished angrily. 

Hermione stood up as well and was immediately glad she had put her heels back. Even with the extra inches, Malfoy towered over her. Well, if she couldn’t command presence, she’d command with position.

“As you seem so eager to dictate what the Under Secretary should and should not be accomplishing, you can sit here and reconcile October’s general purchases and I’ll go and do your research. I’m sure to do a better job of it, with my high marks and all.” That last line was a piss-poor close on her argument and Hermione knew it, but she held out her quill expectantly towards him and gestured to her chair.

The motion incensed him. “An empty proposition as we can’t start the research without - the - funding!”

“And I said I would look over it right now! No one is perfect, Mr. Malfoy. Things get missed.”

They stared at one another, steam almost pouring out of their ears until he snorted derisively. “Drop the stupid honorifics, Granger, I don’t know what you are on about with that hot garbage. Just approve the funding before you leave today. You wouldn’t want Shacklebolt to hear that his favorite lackey was holding a personal grudge in a professional capacity. It might taint that golden reputation of yours.” And then Malfoy left without giving her a chance to say anything, leaving her door open so Elizabeth was left staring at Hermione with wide eyes.

-------

The Under Secretary of Mysteries for Grants and Research Administration sighed heavily into her arms. Her head was nestled in the crook of her arms, resting in the space she had carved out of the desktop as the day had soldiered on. Behind her, the enchanted windows were dark, the magical sun having set many, many hours ago.

Her eyes hurt from doing so much reading, but she had made it through her first day at work. Hermione laughed a little hysterically thinking of everything that she had had to absorb in just the last eight or so hours.

After Malfoy had stormed out, she’d started reviewing his funding requisition. She’d found it quite well written and reasonable within the terms of what Malfoy and his partner needed to begin with their preliminary research. Which begged the question of why Granger had buried it at the bottom of the pile. Malfoy had mentioned he suspected a personal vendetta on her part but there had been no time to look for any indication of a past relationship in the planner because her boss had arrived.

Secretary Painswick was a thin, reedy older man with an air like everything was beneath his notice. He’d dumped a stack of project proposals twice as large as the one she had reviewed on her desk without asking and made an inquiring comment about her new assistant without even bothering to listen to Hermione’s answer. Then he had regaled her with his weekend excursions, enumerating the ten different types of caviar he had sampled at a restaurant in Paris. Painswick reminded her that some type of report was due by end of the week on the latest closure of grants involving the Space Chamber, and that he wanted her to sit in for him on the quarterly update to the Minister of Magic - he had drinks planned with one of his colleagues at the Prophet, wouldn’t she know. Oh, and she needed to order some of those roses that had been part of the Ministry’s summer banquet topiaries for his wife for his anniversary. And then he’d left as abruptly as he’d appeared.

Hermione realized then that Granger had downplayed the work involved with this position. Didn’t Painswick have a secretary of his own? Was she basically running this department? No wonder she was working so many long hours.

After asking Elizabeth to pencil in the meeting with the Minister of Magic and to contact the Ministry event planners to ask after the roses, she’d locked herself up in the office to better acquaint herself with the less pressing issues of her job - a few past projects, a glance over personnel files, etc. Anything to give her more information to work with as she would no doubtly need to start interacting with more than just Elizabeth, Malfoy, and Painswick. Then Elizabeth had interrupted with a purple memo in the shape of a paper airplane. It was someone from the Committee on Experimental Charms asking if Hermione was going to send over her notes on a report regarding the properties of magicked cuckoo clocks and that had taken a good few hours to find Granger’s copy of the report, review her predecessor’s notations, and then submit everything to the requestor via her assistant.

But now it was late and Hermione was going home. She gathered up her things, making sure her purple planner was safely tucked into her bag before leaving her office. She was chagrined to see Elizabeth still sitting primply at her desk, attentive and reviewing whatever files had been left there by the previous assistant.

“What are you still doing here?” she asked softly, making the other witch jump.

“I shouldn’t leave until you do,” Elizabeth replied matter of factly.

Hermione shook her head. “No. I sent you home at six. I should have sent you home even earlier than that. Do as I say, not as I do, do you understand? You are too young to be chained to a desk this late.”

Elizabeth laughed. “You are only seven years older than me. You aren’t even 30 yet.”

“I’m still your boss, go home. I just want to drop off this requisition approval before I leave.”

“I can do it for you.”

“No, I want to deliver this personally. Go along.”

After making sure Elizabeth didn’t secretly follow her along like a puppy following its owner, Hermione navigated her way back to the Brain Room and pulled out the approval form for the powdered dragon claw, stamped with an official purple gold wax seal and signed after many painstaking practice signatures on a scrap piece of paper to copy Granger’s handwriting. This time there wasn’t anyone hiding in the shadows and she placed the paper in a mail tray. 

She headed back to the entrance and suddenly became wary of just how quiet the office was. Maybe she should have gone along with Elizabeth. The day had been so busy and overwhelming that she had completely forgotten for some hours that her life was in danger. Her feet picked up the pace and by the time she had checked out with the night shift guard, Hermione felt no small amount of agitation. She did not want to have a freak out, no matter how minor, in front of anyone else, so she waited until the main department door clanged shut behind her before leaning with her whole body against the corridor wall. 

Hermione took in a long and deep breath, eyes closed, before the cold sharpness against her hand made her snap to attention. 

The hallway in front of her - the one she had not really paid attention to this morning due to the presence of Elizabeth - gleamed in the torchlight. Black tiling from ceiling to floor stretched out in front of her towards the lifts. Her brain went into overdrive, vision narrowing to reset the scene from three nights ago. A coppery taste quickly filled up the back of her mouth.

This was not the same hallway, she told herself. There were no lifts, there were less torches. This is not where you were. But… I was probably somewhere nearby.

Granger had said the Ministry would be safe.

Given the proof in front of Hermione, she had been very, very wrong.

Someone laid a hand on her shoulder.