Welfare
Hermione came staggering out of the Floo fireplace and stared around at the vast black expanse of the Ministry of Magic. Her heart raced a little at the memories she'd made in this place - battling here in her fifth year of school, sneaking in using Polyjuice Potion. Now she was here for a job interview.
She started to make her way across the large atrium, ignoring the stares and whispers.
"That's Hermione Granger."
"The one who -"
"Yes, that one."
This must have been what Harry's life had been like for years, she thought. It had been awkward enough going back to Hogwarts, once everyone learned where she and Ron and Harry had disappeared to. There had been interviews, autographs…
Now there was a job interview.
"Good morning, Miss Granger," said a passing wizard that Hermione did not recognise. She plastered on a grin and walked more briskly toward the bank of lifts, her briefcase clutched tightly in her hand.
"Hold the door, please!" she cried, for her interview began in ten minutes' time and she despised tardiness. She clamored for the open lift and then froze.
"Morning, Miss Granger," smirked Draco Malfoy. Hermione steadied herself and stepped into the lift. She sighed and noted,
"You knew exactly when my interview was."
"I assure you that I'm just on my way to the ninth level." Draco pressed the 9 on the wall and then hesitated. "Magical Creatures… Level Four, is it?"
"Yes." Hermione held her briefcase more tightly and watched Draco press the button. The lift shot back and then began rocketing vertically, and Draco flicked his eyes down to Hermione. She studied herself self-consciously for a moment. She'd come in a skirt suit of deep purple, with a silk-lined cape to match and a jaunty little hat upon her carefully tamed waves. She only hoped she looked professional. Draco certainly seemed impressed.
The lift jolted to a stop, and the overhead voice said crisply,
"Level Four."
Hermione flashed Draco a tiny smile as she stepped out of the lift. She turned round to face him, and he nodded.
"Best of luck, then," he said, and before Hermione could answer, the grate slammed shut and the lift was off again.
She stood staring at the empty bank for a while, then turned and walked briskly down the corridor marked Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. There was a semi-circular desk with a tall, thin witch behind it, who looked up and said,
"Miss Hermione Granger? How nice to meet you."
"Yes. Very pleased to meet you," Hermione nodded quickly. "I'm here for an interview… with Mr Anubis Tratt."
"Ah, yes. Mr Tratt is expecting you. If you'll just follow me this way, please…" The witch rose from her chair, and her heels clacked loudly on the marble floors as Hermione followed her past endless offices. Finally they reached a stout wooden door, which the reception which opened slowly. Then she said, "Mr Tratt, I've got Miss Granger here for her interview."
"Yes. Do send her in."
The door was held open, and Hermione nodded her thanks as she stepped into the wood-paneled office. She stood politely as Anubis Tratt heaved his rotund self from his seat to greet her. He gestured to the leather chair opposite his desk, and as Hermione sat, she opened her briefcase to pull out her C.V.
"Yes, yes, I know all about your accomplishments," Anubis Tratt said, though he did take the C.V. He folded his pudgy hands and smiled kindly. "I had a conversation with Albus Dumbledore about you… a few years back."
Hermione's stomach clenched. "You did, sir?"
"Why, yes. It seems that you started an organisation at Hogwarts to advocate for the welfare of the school's House-Elves."
Hermione grinned. "Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. Yes, sir. I was quite proud of it… it didn't quite take off as I'd hoped. I still aspire to improve the living conditions of House-Elves."
"Well, it would seem as though being the Assistant Head of the Beings Division would allow you such leeway," said Anubis Tratt, and for once, Hermione found herself speechless. Tratt pulled out a parchment and slid it across the desk to Hermione. "This is an offer letter detailing your working duties and compensation package. You'd be responsible for handling the wellbeing and fair treatment of Squibs and House-Elves. Do you accept the position."
Hermione's grin grew wider than ever, and she nodded quickly. "Welfare and fair treatment for Squibs and House-Elves. Oh, it's perfect, Mr Tratt. Thank you so much."
"Just sign here." He pulled a quill from and inkwell and passed it over. "You can begin work first thing Monday morning. You'll report to Apsara Singh; she's the head of the Beings Division. Be here at nine o'clock sharp."
"I'll be here earlier," Hermione promised, scribbling her name on the line at the bottom of the offer letter. She laughed a little and admitted, "I'm so looking forward to this work, Mr Tratt. And, you know, it's perfect. Working for the welfare of previously mistreated people and creatures, because… well, I hope to help propel the wizarding world forward in other similar regards."
Anubis Tratt's smile faltered just a little. "What other regards?"
Hermione hesitated, but bravely said, "I hope to be a catalyst for change when it comes to post-war reconciliation, sir."
"We do not tolerate apologists in this office, Miss Granger," Tratt said sharply. "It is the position of this department that anyone and everyone who sympathised in any capacity with… with… Voldemortand his minions should be duly punished."
Hermione felt her cheeks go hot. She knew better than to bring it up again, at least for right now. She just nodded and slid the offer letter back across the desk to Anubis Tratt.
"I'm very grateful for the position, sir. I promise to serve the Ministry faithfully, to work hard on behalf of Squibs and House-Elves."
"Thank you, Miss Granger. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance." Tratt didn't sound so sure about that, and Hermione's breath caught just a little as she stood. She had made a mistake in bringing up the idea of reconciliation. She'd never received an owl from Ron about him reading or not reading the Dickens she'd given him. She hadn't heard from Harry, or from Ginny, or from anyone else. All she'd received were closed doors, closed minds. Nobody wanted to make friends with their former enemies. Even Harry, who seemed at least partially open to the idea of widespread peacemaking, was hardened at the notion of speaking amicably with…
With Draco Malfoy.
Hermione nodded and thanked Anubis Tratt again, and then she showed herself out of the office. She went to the bank of lifts and got inside. As the grate shut, she was about to press the button for the atrium, but then she found herself pressing 9.
The lift shot back and down, and Hermione held her breath when the door opened and the voice overhead said gravely,
"Level Nine. Department of Mysteries."
She stepped out into the shiny black corridor, illuminated by blue-white light, and she strode slowly toward the door at the end. She knew what lay in this place. She knew far better than most people. She stood in front of the door, knowing that if she tried to enter, she'd become disoriented as an authorised entry.
She shut her eyes and said rather loudly,
"I am here to see Draco Malfoy."
There was nothing. Just silence. Hermione stared at the enchanted, eerie flames from the torches on the walls. Finally the door before her slid open, the slow scrape of stone on stone making her cringe a little. A very short, very thin, very pale witch appeared, and she snapped in an ethereal sort of voice,
"Who are you, and what do you want here?"
"My name is Hermione Granger. I… I wonder if Draco Malfoy is available."
The little witch, her wispy hair blowing about her paper-thin face, narrowed her eyes. "I can neither confirm nor deny whether any such wizard works in this department. You should go back to where you came from."
Hermione pinched her lips. "I know all about this place. I was here when the Prophecies fell and shattered. I took a curse from Antonin Dolohov here, one that almost killed me. I was here the day Sirius Black fell through the Veil, the day Luna Lovegood cast a Reductor Curse in the Space Chamber. I've worked with a Time Turner. I probably know more about this place than nearly anyone else alive. Please. If he'd here, tell Draco Malfoy I would like to see him."
The little witch stared for a very, very long time at Hermione. It seemed to go on forever, until finally the wizened woman said sharply,
"Come with me."
Hermione blinked, surprised by the invitation. She quickly followed the witch through the doorway into the round Entrance Chamber. The door behind Hermione shut, and then the walls began to rotate. Hermione's breath quickened in her nostrils. Finally, the spinning stopped, and another door opened. The little witch turned out to move very quickly indeed, her sprightly steps down the dark corridor before them almost impossible to follow. Hermione trotted to keep up. They came to an unmarked doorway, and the little witch put her palm to it. It slid open, and the witch walked away from Hermione without another word. Hermione stared after her, confused, watching her go back into the round Entrance Chamber.
"Hermione?"
"Draco." She turned at the sound of his voice, and he beckoned her into a small, minimalist office with brushed silver and black design. He stayed standing as his office door shut, and Hermione set down her briefcase, looking around in confusion.
"What office is this?"
"It's mine," Draco said simply. He crossed his arms over his chest, and his pale eyes were sharp as he demanded, "Why are you here?"
Hermione didn't have a good answer for that. She blinked, glancing down to her briefcase, and she said blandly,
"I got the job. In charge of Squib and House-Elf welfare. I… I have no idea why I felt compelled to come and tell you. Perhaps because Ron and Harry and Ginny are very cross with me just now, and because my parents wouldn't understand quite what the job meant. For some reason, it occurred to me that you might… that I should tell you."
Draco sucked in a very long breath and glanced at a doorway set into the slick black tile wall of his office. It was so narrow that it looked like you'd have to squeeze through it.
"Do you know what's on the other side of that door?" he asked, and when Hermione shook her head, he said, "The Death Chamber."
Hermione felt her lips go cold. All of a sudden, she was reliving it all. Harry and Luna being drawn to the arch by the whisperings from the other side. Bellatrix casting a curse at her cousin, sending Sirius Black fading into the abyss, through the Veil…
"You fought my father here," Draco noted matter-of-factly. "You. Potter. Weasley… more than one Weasley. You fought my Aunt Bellatrix, who killed Potter's beloved godfather, and you fought my father. That much I know to be true. You fought him, too. The Dark Lord."
"Voldemort," Hermione whispered. She raised her eyes and shrugged. "The wicked man is dead. Why fear his name now? Say it, Draco."
He was quiet for a long moment. Finally he sniffed and adjusted the sleeve of his black robe, and he said quietly, "You fought Voldemort."
"That bit came later," Hermione said. Draco looked ashamed all of a sudden, and he noted,
"Dolohov cursed you. Something awful. The records showed… you nearly died of it. You nearly died in this department. But you healed, and you kept fighting. For years, you kept fighting. Why?"
"What choice did I have?" Hermione asked sincerely. "I was fighting for my very existence. For the light. For good. I had absolutely no choice. You had choices. You made some very bad ones, but I've forgiven you, and I'm afraid I may have lost my friends over that."
Draco scoffed. "They're that angry, are they? That cross with you for having the sheer gall to forgive a wizard who regrets his past?"
"Believe or not, Harry's the one who seems at least vaguely amenable to the idea of widespread reconciliation," Hermione said. Draco shook his head.
"That doesn't surprise me. Very Potter-like, wanting to save society yet again. But I'll wager he wants nothing to do with me."
"No, he doesn't," Hermione admitted. She let out a long breath and blinked a few times. "I gave Ron a book… a Muggle book. It's about a man who does wicked, terrible things to people. He's forced to confront his past, his present, and his future, and he changes for the better. He leads a good life. I gave Ron the book and asked him to read it, to send me an owl when he'd finished. But I haven't received any owl."
"Perhaps Weasley's a particularly a slow reader," Draco suggested, quirking up half his mouth. Hermione shook her head.
"No. I'm sure he set the book down and didn't pick it back up again. He knows I've forgiven you, and for that… I don't suppose he'll forgive me. Not easily, anyway. And Ginny. Well, Ginny can be very stubborn."
"No. A stubborn Gryffindor?" Draco threw up an eyebrow, and Hermione gave him a dirty look. Draco dragged his teeth over his bottom lip and asked,
"Have you ever had jerk chicken?"
Hermione smiled just a little and said, "Only in the Muggle world."
"There's a Jamaican restaurant very near my house in Kensington." Draco sounded exceedingly nervous all of a sudden. "They'll deliver it straight to your door. Takes an hour; it's very inefficient, but… I wonder, Granger, if you might like to come by for some… for some…"
"Some jerk chicken?" Hermione finished for him. In the blue-white light of the room, Draco's cheeks coloured, and he stared again at the door that apparently led to the Death Chamber.
"I was an only child, so my parents rather showered attention upon me," he said, "and I always had a great many friends. But my friends are gone, and my family's gone, and I work… here."
He held his arms out as if to showcase the silent, eerie office space. Hermione remembered how empty and quiet his home had seen, and she realised at once that he must be profoundly lonely. Then she thought that it was very odd indeed for her to care, for her to feel a little twinge of pity at Draco Malfoy's loneliness.
"When?" she asked, and he looked shocked for a moment before he stammered,
"T-Tonight? Seven?"
"All right." Hermione nodded and considered that she ought to send Ron an owl, telling him their casual dating relationship was on hold for the time being. Even if it was just for jerk chicken, it would hardly do for her to go alone to Draco Malfoy's house whilst Ron stewed about her in the flat he shared with Harry. Hermione nodded again and told Draco, "Tonight. Seven. Your place in Kensington. Jerk chicken."
Draco smiled just a little and sounded embarrassed as he said, "As jealous as I ever was of you, Granger, I think I really underestimated you. You'll need an authorised escort out of here. I'll take you. Congratulations on getting the job."
Author's Note: Ooooh, so Draco works with the Death Chamber somehow. Will this be significant? (Yes, it will.) Also, jerk chicken alone at Draco's house? Hmmm… this slow burn may be starting to catch a spark. Thanks for reading. Please do review if you can since this will be my last update before tomorrow. Much love to all.