Unspoken

To You,

I wonder as I write these letters when you will read them. If you will ever read them. Have you been to my office at the Ministry by now? How did you fare on your first day? Do you like the orchid? It is a native Cephalanthera damasonium according to the florist shop around the corner from the flat. Neville sent it for my birthday a few years back. He claimed it has subtle magical restorative properties. I always meant to do my own research into this particular variety but now it will simply be another line on my list of things I will never finish.

On occasion though, like tonight, I stop and think about the questions you might have for me. How did I end up in the Department of Mysteries? Why do I work such insane hours? Am I some sort of masochist for pouring myself into my career?

All students are required to undergo career counseling in their fifth year at Hogwarts. I was highly invested in the equal treatment of magical creatures at sixteen and despite encouragement from our Head of House to pursue a more academically oriented career, I was determined to prove my naysayers wrong.

After the war, I sincerely believed that with my high marks and my fame, that I would bring justice back into balance. I joined the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures despite offers from other corners. Day in and day out I researched and wrote bills regarding the treatment of house-elves and werewolves and other creatures cast aside by wizarding society. My memos never reached farther than my direct supervisor. To this day, I do not believe the head of the department read a single word I had written, let alone a member of the Wizengamot. 

When I was approached about a position within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, I eagerly took it with the thought that maybe I could make a difference by affecting policy change in the way the Ministry prosecuted crimes and the use of the Dark Arts. Another benefit was that I thought I would be able to see Harry and Ron more; they were just finishing their probationary year after being speed-tracked into the Auror department.

But my best friends were always out in the field and I was always in the office. You may have been able to deduce by now that I have always been good at research. I sincerely enjoy research. My superiors within the DMLE praised my work ethic and piled my desk high with case files. No one wanted to listen to suggestions for improvement of processing arrests or updating policies. And after that, I found myself taken off the more high profile trials just as I started to make headway. Recognition for solved cases ended up in the laps of administrators who did nothing more than day drink and set the pride of the regular law enforcement squads against that of the Aurors. 

I had already written a letter of resignation when Kinglsey approached me about creating an Under-Secretary position within DOM. He was concerned, he told me in our private meeting, of how the department continued to work outside the relative scope of the magical government. Nothing he could point his wand at, I was to understand. Simply a gut feeling, a residual trait of his Auror days that Kinglsey still trusts now that he is the Minister of Magic. With my marks, my healthy dose of skepticism, and my experience dealing with Ancient and Dark magic, I was his one and only pick for the position.

How does one say no to such a recommendation? I started the next week, much to the chagrin of Secretary Painswick. Finally, I had my chance to enact change. Security protocols have been updated, contingency plans have been enacted. As much as I love to research on my own time, I relish being able to review all the data and theories coming out of the research conducted under DOM. I would never have access to this sort of information otherwise. On occasion, I’m even asked to add my own insight to papers. This job is truly fulfilling for me.

The hours are relatively new. As a result of instating me as the Under-Secretary, Kingsley has felt more comfortable providing greater funding to the department and Painswick has worked quickly to grow staff and the number of projects. It has meant a lot more work for me, and that is on top of the research I have been attempting to do to figure out our situation. 

All I do these days is go to work and then back to my home, so why am I going to lose my memories?

I spend hours reviewing international research proposals and going line by line over accounting records, and then I spend several more hours trying to use my access privileges as Under-Secretary to review what is going on elsewhere in the Ministry. I haven’t found any rise in muggleborn related crimes. I haven’t received death threats by owl for several years now. Every night, I make sure to write a little bit more in the planner, just in case some piece of information I remember may be of use to you as you make your way through my life.

If I seem to be working myself to the bone, it is because I am. This is who I am. I will pour everything into making sure you are safe, that you get the chance to live the life being taken from me. I can only hope you will appreciate it one day.

Exhaustedly, Me

—----

Hermione could barely keep up with Malfoy, cursing her decision to increase the height of her heels by another inch that morning. Sure, she had looked uber professional in her council meeting. Now she looked ridiculous sprinting like a maniac down the hallway.

She almost slammed into Malfoy as he stopped at the edge of a throng of employees gathered at the entrance to the Hall of Prophecy. The whole of the Department of Mysteries had turned out of their research alcoves was a twitter with . She wondered how on earth she was going to push her way into the crush of bodies when Malfoy grabbed her wrist and pulled her forward along with him. Heads turned to see who was aggressively shoving through the crowd and quickly made room when they saw who it was. 

As they came through to the other side of the entrance, Hermione gawked at the damage before her. Shards of glass covered the floor, crunching under her heels as she pressed onward into the giant chamber. Several of the cases nearest to the doorway were missing shelves - whole shelves, partial shelves. Two of the floor to ceiling units had fallen in on themselves in a heap of wood and iron.  It was hard to see how far back the damage went. Blue flames flickered feebly in brackets on the ends of the rows, barely giving off enough light in the dark, cool room. Most of the light was coming from the enchanted sconces in the corridor rather than the chamber. A couple of the cases were teetering, wobbling to and fro from taking damage near the base. 

“Where’s the Keeper?” she whispered, and then louder to crowd behind her, “Where’s the Keeper?!”

“I don’t see him!” Elizabeth was suddenly at her elbow as though she’d been summoned. Her assistant’s face was awash with concern. “Do you think he’s hurt in there?”

Likely, if he was caught under any of this.

Something was pulling at the core of her magic, making her feel dizzy and uneven when Hermione needed to keep her head on straight. Granger had given lengthy details about the warding of this particular chamber. Repelling charms, ancient protection magicks… Was she feeling some kind of power backlash?

“Watch out!” someone screamed from inside the crowd.

The closest shelf still standing shuddered and groaned as it careened forward, directly towards the entrance. There was barely anywhere to turn with the panicking crowd at her back and she scrambled to the left as Malfoy scrambled to the right. She turned back, aghast to see Elizabeth standing in petrified shock, frozen directly in the path of the falling case. Hermione hurled herself into her assistant, pushing the young woman as hard as she could and braced for the impact of wood and glass.

Pain crashed through her shoulder and down her arm. She cried out in hurt and surprise, the rest of her body unharmed by what should have been a crushing load. The Under-Secretary dared to look up; Malfoy was standing above her with his wand raised before them, sending the shelf’s momentum in another direction. One of the shelves had not been caught up in Malfoy’s spell and that had caught Hermione on its way down. It had still been a large piece and it was agony to move her arm. Elizabeth was on her knees, surrounded by the glass and silently crying as she picked herself back up, ignoring her own injuries in favor of her boss’.

“Oh Merlin… oh, Hermione… I’m so, so sorry, I should have never… look at your arm… !” 

“I’m fine.”

“ You most certainly are not. ” announced Malfoy, looking her over with a severe expression that bordered on outrage. “What on earth impelled you, witch?! Why didn’t you cast a shielding charm?”

“You didn’t cast one either,” she hissed, trying to cradle her bad arm with the other. At least it wasn’t her casting hand. 

The crowd, which had momentarily retreated in fear of being crushed themselves, was back in the entrance, goggling again at the ruin before them. Hermione turned her back on the Hall and attempted to shoo her inquisitive staff back into the corridor. 

“You need to activate the emergency protocols.” demanded Malfoy, still trying to get a look at the wound on her shoulder.

Hermione threw him the dirtiest look she could muster. “I know. ”

The problem with the emergency protocols was that they were back in her planner that she had oh-so-thoughtfully left in her desk drawer. You know, to keep it safe. Because for some reason, Hermione had thought there was an almost zero percent chance she’d need to have the emergency protocols memorized for her second day on the job. What in the hell was she supposed to do with her arm fucked up and a pack of drama hungry DOM employees trying to peer into a restricted area?

“Elizabeth,” she started, “I need you to-”

“Clear away everyone and seal off the Hall,” sniffed her assistant, pulling herself together and trying to brush the glass out of her robes. One of the older witches in the crowd had stepped forward and helped to heal the small cuts and scrapes along Elizabeth’s person.

“Er - yes, and then could you -”

“I’ll message DOM security right away, though they are likely almost here. We’ll make sure the Keeper is our top priority, and I’ll begin taking notes from possible witnesses. I’ll also look for the master copy of the prophecy inventory after the Hall is cleared by security.”

Bless Granger for hiring this one. Hermione made a mental note to make sure she came up with some sort of appropriate gesture of appreciation at a later date. 

“We need to requisition space to keep the unbroken prophecies in a secure area until we can assess the cause and rebuild.” There were supposed to be enchantments in the Hall of Prophecy to prevent what had just happened. It was impossible to just clean it up and put everything back together, even with magic. But where could they possibly find secure storage? How would they move the remaining prophecies without the Keeper? The Hall was supposed to be closed to even regular Unspeakables. 

“There’s an empty chamber in the corridor next to the Space Room.” piped up a gentleman whose name Hermione didn’t know yet. He was a little older than her, but not by many years. His face wasn’t very recognizable.

“Is there?” she asked, trying to envision the map of the department Granger had drawn in the planner. There had been several suites, lots of research labs, but she didn’t recall any space as being unused.

“Oh, yes. It’s secure too. No one in or out but those approved. Has been that way since He-Who-Has-Not-Been- OOF.” 

Someone - she could not see who - must have given the man a sharp elbow to the ribs to shut him up because he said nothing else. She opened her mouth to ask a further question about it when a roar sent the congregation running back to their offices. 

Secretary Painswick barged in, his thin face even paler than he had been when she met him the day before. After their first interaction, Hermione had thought of him as an airy, flippant sort of man. The enraged wizard before her was anything but.

“ GRANGER. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE THIS TIME?! I knew it, I KNEW WHEN WE HIRED YOU, I told the Minister that it was a mistake to have someone of your ilk down here mucking up what was A PERFECTLY GOOD SYSTEM before you arrived-”

Spit sprayed out of his mouth as he bore down on her, the smell of his beef and garlic stew luncheon hot and heavy on his breath. It took all of her power not to hurl what little tea she had in her stomach at that moment all over him. Adrenaline was still coursing through her system but the pain was really starting to cut through it now. 

“Not here, sir.” she said quietly. The weird aura was still emanating from the Hall, adding to her level of queasiness but Hermione was resolved not to show weakness. 

“EXCUSE ME?!” bellowed Painswick, huffing.

“Not here, sir. Please come back with me to my office so that security can begin to do their job and we can seal the Hall until further notice.” Hermione held his furious gaze with her own determined one until he turned on his heel and stomped down the hallway towards her office. She signed inwardly with relief that the remainder of her dressing down would be in private and nodded at Elizabeth to please continue with the emergency procedures.

She was halfway back to her office when she realized that Malfoy was walking alongside her. 

“Why are you following me?” Hermione demanded, a little jumpy that she had not noticed his presence.

“You need a Healer.” 

“Do I, now?”

Malfoy growled, shoving his silver blond hair out of his eyes as he doggedly paced alongside her. “It wasn’t a question, Granger. I am a Healer, even if I spend most of my hours these days in a room with a tank full of brains. You need to let me look at your shoulder.”

“Not now.” she stated tersely, moving around Elizabeth’s desk and back towards her office. Painswick was already there, storming around like a wounded hippogriff. Scrolls fell off the edge of her desk and were nearly trampled underfoot.

“ Granger , for the love of Dilys Derwint, I’m a fully qualifi-”

“I didn’t say no, I said not now. ” 

She closed the door on his frustrated face, leaving him standing next to the secretarial desk with his arms folded.

As soon as she turned back to her boss, he lit into her. He screamed on and on about the ridiculous protocols Granger had put in place when she started as Under-Secretary, how all those galleons and all that effort had been for naught because things like ‘this’ still happened. Hermione told herself she didn’t have to take all this criticism standing when he was behind her desk, so she very carefully lowered herself into the guest chair while he continued burning off his rage. 

“Have you even done anything about this yet?” he demanded to know, slamming his hand down on her desk. She didn’t jump, though more scrolls fell to the floor. His expectations were absurd - thirty minutes had barely passed since the incident. 

“Security has been called to seal off the Hall and non-authorized personnel removed from the chambers. My assistant is ensuring that the discovery of the Keeper is our top priority, in addition to sourcing the Hall’s inventory list and making inquiries into any observations by nearby Unspeakables. Security will do a sweep of the Hall to ensure safety and then we can begin an investigation of the cause and budget for a rebuild.” Hermione did her best to keep emotion out of her voice and present the facts without getting wound up that he was blaming the whole thing on her when they didn’t know the cause. Someone had to act like a professional and apparently it was on her. 

His fingers twitched as though he itched to squeeze something but Painswick deliberately took a deep breath before addressing her back. “I don’t want your security doing any kind of investigation. I want an Auror down here immediately. This is the second time, THE SECOND TIME…” - he took another steadying breath yet again - “the second time this has happened since I’ve been Secretary. I don’t want to take any chances considering the last time.”

Making a mental note to research into whatever had happened to the Hall of Prophecy before, she said, “Sir… we’d have to get an Auror with clearance.”

“Then. Get. An. Auror. With. Clearance.” He enunciated every word so sharply spit was flying about again. She watched disgusted as flecks dribbled onto her notes and piles of proposals.

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek to steady her own anger and nodded.

Painswick slammed her door open and disappeared. She slumped a little in the chair, exhausted, in pain, and needing to just have a moment alone. Her lunch was still under the little cozy on her desk and her stomach rumbled unhappily. The little clock nestled in between some heavy bound volumes on her shelf ticked quietly, hands pointing to the time.

12:52 PM

How much longer was this day going to last? 

A gentle rap came on her door and Hermione leaned her head back, expecting to see her assistant. Instead, she sat up straight with a pained gasp as she remembered she’d left Malfoy standing outside. His upside down figure had filled the frame of her doorway, the backlighting from the exterior of the suite making his white lab robes gleam. Had he listened to the whole reprimand? She reddened in embarrassment at the thought as she struggled to use her good arm to pull herself back up.

“Don’t get up. It’s easier for me if you are sitting.” He didn’t ask if he could come in, and he didn’t ask if he could close the door as he did so. 

“What are you doing, Malfoy?” she asked, voice full of mistrust.

Malfoy swept back his robes so he could kneel more easily at the side of her chair, setting his grey eyes level with her left shoulder. There was a small green bag that he’d seemingly conjured out of nowhere next to him. “I’m going to have to ask you to allow me to move your shirt. I didn’t think you’d want your door open for that.”

Ah. She blushed again and nodded her permission. Since the wound was along her shoulder, she couldn’t see the extent of how bad it was or what he was doing. Hermione winched a little when he touched her, his cool fingers a contrast to the throbbing misery that was her arm. 

At her flinch, Malfoy removed his hand and sat back on his heels. She looked up at him and saw that his eyes had become guarded again. He didn’t move to touch her again.

“Would you rather go to St. Mungo’s?”

His expression was still but the lilt of his soft words sounded aggrieved. Hermione tore herself away from his intense gaze and licked her lips, self-conscious of the sudden tension in the room. She squeezed her eyes shut, shook her head quickly and used her uninjured arm to hold back her overwhelming wad of hair so he had better access.

Malfoy was gentle as he peeled back the bloodied fabric of her blouse with a few whispered cutting charms so that he could see the full extent of her injury.

“Is it bad?” she asked, a little uncomfortable with the silence. That and the two of them in her office with her mangled shirt partially exposing her chest. He was awfully close to her as he did his examination.

He scoffed indelicately as he dabbed some fluid from a fluorescent orange bottle onto a clean cloth and applied it against her wound. “We’ve both seen worse. Though it’s much better than being crushed underneath a story of glass and wood.” 

They’d both seen worse.

Hermione hadn’t gone through enough of Granger’s notes and memories to really get an idea of what he meant. Was he talking about the Second Wizarding War? Granger had hinted that was a fairly large part of her story, but Hermione had concentrated primarily on the planner tabs regarding DOM to get started. What did Malfoy have to do with the war? She wondered what section of the planner had information on Draco Malfoy.

“OUCH.” she cried as her shoulder burned. She tried to twist away from the pain, but Malfoy grabbed her arm with his non-casting hand and held her firmly in place.

“Breathe through it, I’m stitching the wound now. I don’t have any numbing agent to place on it, I’m sorry. I should have warned you.” His voice was right at the nape of her neck, his breath tickling the hairs there.

As instructed, she took a deep breath through her clenched teeth as well as her nose. The scent of evergreen filled her senses, dazing her with how heady it was. She breathed in again, letting it distract her from the tugging of her skin as Malfoy knit her back together. His hand on her arm relaxed as she did. Hermione let herself close her eyes for a minute or so and opened them back up when she felt Malfoy pulling the fabric of her shirt back together with a sewing spell.

He dug around in his bag after a moment and then, after a brief moment of hesitation, handed her a small brown vial. It was a pain killer potion with a handwritten batch number on the label. Her pain was so high at this point that she didn’t hesitate before knocking it back, impending doom be damned. A rush of peppermint roared down her throat.

“I’ve probably ruined your shirt.” he frowned as she sputtered against the strength of the menthol aftertaste.

“I think the falling shelf ruined my shirt,” Hermione pointed out with a light cough, gingerly rolling that shoulder and relishing the lack of pain. The potion had gone to work immediately. There was a bit of soreness but she would deal. “Thank you.”

“Healer’s duty.”

Malfoy stood and ran his hand through his hair a couple of times, trying to keep it out of his face as he gave her further instructions on what not to do for the next few days. No heavy lifting, no push ups. She probably didn’t need a blood replenishing potion, but if she was feeling dizzy at all in the next 24 hrs, she should take on to be on the cautious side. All delivered very matter of fact without a hint of nagging. Hermione wanted to think it was refreshing from a Healer, but she’d never had any interactions with a Healer to know otherwise. 

“And… thank you for saving me. From the shelf.”

He started and glanced away from her face. “Of course.”

Hermione wasn’t sure why he was still standing in her office. Was he expecting more praise, or thanks? Was Malfoy waiting for her to dismiss him? She wondered if he had had lunch yet, remembering that he too had been grabbing a cup of tea when the explosion occurred. 

Just as she was about to ask him, Elizabeth threw herself through the doorway. “They found Keeper Wentworth! Oh-” The chestnut haired witch drew up short as the sight of Malfoy and fumbled over her feet to hurry backwards. 

Malfoy tensed and nodded to Hermione, walked back out the doorway with so much as a word goodbye. She almost stopped him without really knowing why she wanted to but let him go, turning instead to Elizabeth who was out of breath as though she’d run all the way here.

“They found him? Is he alright?” asked Hermione, standing up and seating herself back in her own comfortable chair on the correct side of the desk again. 

Elizabeth shook her head, distraught. “He’s on his way to St. Mungo’s.”

Shit. “I'm sorry to add another thing to your plate, but could you find me his personnel file? And please keep me updated as to his condition. I want to know as soon as he’s available to talk to, I have some questions for him before the Aurors get involved.” she told her assistant, using her wand to clear up the dried spit Painswick had left on her things.

“The Aurors?” asked Elizabeth in surprise.

“Don’t ask. I’ll take care of it. Why don’t you get yourself a cup of tea before whatever task you were going to tackle next?”

“The inventory.”

“Right - well, tea first.”

The assistant glanced at Hermione’s shoulder, and hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Malfoy healed my shoulder, I’m fine. Really.” She got up and moved around to show Elizabeth that she hadn’t been hexed or permanently damaged in any way. When the younger witch continued to hesitate, Hermione sighed and nudged her along til they were both standing in the hallway. “Look - we are all working off a big boost of adrenaline but that is going to wear off soon. We need clear heads and we need to be detail oriented. I want you to have a full cup of tea before you get onto the inventory. But be careful… I may have smashed a tea cup earlier.” 

Elizabeth trotted off obediently and Hermione watched her for a moment, caught in an odd moment of realization of just what all had happened so far in one day. It was the oddness that stayed with her a little too long that made her snap her head in the other direction of the corridor.

There was no one there. Yet Hermione had distinctly had the feeling of being watched. 

A chill ran down her spine. 

Now was a very good time for a warm lunch. She hurried back into her office, closed the door, and locked it.