Chapter 1: In which Hermione's life gets turned on its head
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
April 1st, 1999
Hermione smiled as she spotted Harry steering towards her table, seemingly unaware of the throngs of people around him. She grabbed a mug and prepared some coffee with a dash of milk. He looked like he needed it.
“Good morning Harry” she said extra cheerfully, just to annoy him.
“Mornin’ ‘Mione” he grumbled as he sat down, grabbing the mug with a small thankful smile. She could barely hear him over the many people talking in the dining hall. He had bags under his eyes and his robes were buttoned unevenly.
“Who got you in that state? Didn’t you have financial filing this month?” Harry didn’t seem able to answer immediately, but Hermione was fine with waiting. She went back to her yogurt and Harry started sipping at the coffee. Eventually he mustered up the will for some toast too. He didn’t even use a plate, instead simply grabbing it from the pile in the middle of the table. Just as she was ready to clean up, he started talking.
“Yeah, but some prat from the Empress’ office had last minute stuff that needed to be logged before the end of March. Something about budgets and quarters or whatever. Anyways, he promised to get me a far bit up the lunch list this month.”
“Harry!” Hermione sighed “He better get you first pick with that behaviour. Honestly, he should know better than expecting us to do last minute stuff. He was lucky it was your unit doing filing this month. And lunchpicking privileges? He could have at least offered you some good quills or something. I bet the Empress’ office has way better stuff than us.”
They both collected their dishes and brought them to the cleaning station. Hermione always woke early, in part to get a good seat at the long tables. You didn’t want to be too close to the door, due to the draft coming in from the entrance hall. But also, not too close to the kitchens, due to the noise. Throughout her first year working in the ministerial labour force, she had determined the ideal zone for eating her meals in, and she was determined to sit there as often as she could. Additionally, there was never enough yogurt, and if you were late, you were stuck with the dry toast that couldn’t keep you full until lunch. And that was if you got a lunch that you liked enough to eat.
The morning air was chilly that day, and they walked briskly across the plaza separating the building housing the labour force from the ministry. As they walked in silence, Harry clearly still tired, Hermione observed the muggles walking parallel to them. When the Empress had built the new ministry, she had done so in the middle of Muggle London’s Whitehall, to smite their government’s stupidity and incompetence. They did not realise that another government was right in their middle, and that it was superior to them. She had built it right on top of the old ministry too. It was a show of power and rebirth. Both she and the muggles were walking to work. All that separated them was the vaguely shimmering wards blowing softly in the spring wind. She always walked close to the wards, revelling in the slight feeling of magic they provided.
Hermione wondered whether she would be working in London if she had stayed with her parents. Probably not. She knew most muggles lived simple lives in the countryside, never seeing the capital. But she couldn’t help but wonder. Perhaps her parents were walking right next to her, heading to work. Maybe they were earning money to support any siblings she may have. Lost in her thoughts, they had arrived at the back of the ministry building. The labour force housing was placed behind the ministry and its workers used a back entrance leading directly to the basement floor where they worked. She looked behind her a moment before entering.
Other members of the labour force were walking to work too, all of them used to the grandeur of the ministry building. It was even more impressive from the front, but Hermione rarely had cause to venture over there. The only thing on the plaza was a statue of her majesty The Empress Voldemort, divine dark lady of the empire of Britannia. She placed on such a high pedestal that it was hard to make out her features, but Hermione thought her quite beautiful from the distance. Though if she had a statue made of her, she would probably also want it to look the best.
“The first day of April,” Hermione commented. “Do you know what duty your unit will get?”
“Anything other than filing. My agreement with Penelope is simply that I get to switch every month. I like the variety, and I think the rest of the unit does so too. And we just got two new members from the dissolution of another one, so we’re hitting fifteen people, so its good we get to change it up.”
“Well you know it wont be misc.” Hermione said dryly. Her unit leader, Lavender, was “such a generous person” that she had offered to take misc until she swore fealty to the Empress, got her citizenship and family name returned, and left the labour force. Which was in six years. And until then Hermione was stuck doing misc. And the bad parts, because Lavender would always take the easy tasks, leave at 1 PM, and leave the rest of them to do all the parts that made everyone avoid misc. Like running around five floors getting signatures for a birthday card (and not being allowed to use the elevator). Or putting together five hundred corsages for the ministry Ostara gala by hand (while an employee simply watched if she was doing it correctly). Or observing a flubberworm owned by the head of magical culture’s son (just to make sure it didn’t die while the child was visiting his father). All things Hermione had had to do the last two weeks. It wasn’t that Lavender was a bad unit leader per se. Hermione enjoyed her company well enough, and she would sometimes bring coffee or snacks to keep everyone content. It was fine. It was life, and it was as it was.
She arrived at her unit room and said goodbye to Harry. Lavender had decorated the room quite nicely and the fact that it was once just exposed brickwork and concrete flooring was barely noticeable behind Lavender’s handiwork. How Lavender procured everything with just the allowance they were given was a mystery. Tina was already there, and Angelina arrived shortly after. Dean had been sick for the last few days, so Hermione wasn’t surprised when he didn’t show up. It was silly that they had to arrive at eight every day, as the unit leaders always spent at least 20 minutes getting their tasks. And as it was a new month it was more likely to be an hour.
So, while waiting, the three of them started a game of guess the (sub)department head.
“No fair using a retired one Tina. That gives you such an edge.” Katie complained.
“Lord Nott only retired this year. And you both worked here then. Or does my old mind deceive me?” Tina shot back playfully. She was a stout woman with light blonde hair, somewhere in her forties. Her unit had recently been dissolved due to the leader having their citizenship returned, and as a result she had been moved to Lavender’s unit.
“You know back when I started, rumour had it that Lord Nott was going to marry the Empress. That they were involved in a torrid love affair behind Lady Nott’s back. But even back then most people thought the rumour absurd. Like her majesty would ever share the throne with anyone. But one of my unit mates actually asked him about it. Of course, there was less of a defined role for the force back then, but even so. It was preposterous to ask about it. He got himself thrown into the agricultural labour force. And his unit served on Lord Nott’s estate. Heard he died in an accident a few months after that.”
Hermione was shocked. Not at his fate, but at his stupidity. And at Tina’s too, spreading rumours about the empress was a sure way to separate your head from your body.
“Why would anyone throw their ministerial position away for that?” Of the people without a suspended citizenship, only five from Hermione’s year had made it into the ministry. And more than 2000 infants had been accepted as preliminary citizens in 1980.
“Back then the selection process wasn’t as harsh as now. It was more about who got along well with the teachers at the centres and stuff. I doubt I would have gotten selected for ministry duty if I had been your age.
He might, and I’m saying might here, have been involved with some less savoury elements of society. And if someone offered you all you needed for citizenship, wouldn’t you take it?”
Hermione pondered that. She certainly wouldn’t do it if it risked offending someone with the power to get her killed. And no one could truly offer you citizenship anyways. Sure, they may be able to give you the references needed, the money, the housing, and perhaps even a wand permit. But then there was the ten years of consistent employment (labour force didn’t count). And your apparition license. And your OWLs and NEWTs. And all of that was granted you could pass the IMPs (Imperial ministerial proficiency test).
“Anyways, its my turn,” she cleared her throat “Hmm hmm. I did specifically ask for these envelopes in pale rose did I not Hermione? This is clearly dusty peony. Such a shame I will have to mark this task as unsuccessful on your statement, no?”
Before anyone could make the obvious guess, Lavender entered, a stack of folders under her arm.
“Happy April!” Lavender sang. “I hope you like the decorations this month. There are a few tasks from the auror department which I’ve taken. Got to see my Ronniekins you know. You can distribute the rest between you.”
Lavender turned around ready to leave again, to hurry to her “Ronniekins”, but stopped at the last minute.
“Oh, and I should tell you guys. They’re considering giving us another unit member, but its not certain yet. We’re about the right size for only doing misc anyways. But if Dean keeps being sick, they’ll move someone from another unit.”
With that Lavender was gone, and the three women were left to sort through whatever various departments thought was too important for people who possessed wands.
Andromeda looked around her office, sighing. It amazed her quite often that she was the head of the DMLE. That her majesty had trusted her with anything this magnitude. She had a spacious office with tasteful mahogany furniture, a large seating area, an extra private office in the back, a filing room, a private floo, and a front office for her assistant. And to think she had almost thrown it all away. The dark lady truly was merciful.
“Enter.” Andromeda called at the knock on her office door. “Yvonne, how may I help you?” Her assistant looked nervous but seemed determined to say her piece. It was strange, as Yvonne was usually a carefree and happy woman.
“May I have a seat Madame Black? I have some things I would like to discuss.” At Andromeda’s nod, Yvonne pulled out the chair across from her boss.
“You know that I recently got married… uhmmm,” the woman was fiddling with the hem of her skirt and staring down at her moving hands. “And… Jorn and I were going to wait a bit longer but… uhmmm… I’m expecting. In September.”
Andromeda raised her eyebrow. That was… annoying. But expected, in some sense.
“Congratulations Yvonne. And give my regards to Mr. Ricken too. I’ll admit it came a bit earlier than I expected, but it was bound to happen eventually. What are your plans now?”
Yvonne hadn’t stopped her nervous behaviour, and a pregnancy wasn’t exactly something she would be that nervous to tell her boss. They had a good relationship, better than most department heads had with their assistants.
“Well… I really like this job, so… I was wondering if it would be possible for me to have a sort of temporary leave? And then come back some time after the child is born? I just… I really want to keep working, and Jorn is fine with taking care of the child. But he doesn’t finish his apprenticeship before May next year.”
Andromeda did really like Yvonne as an assistant. She knew when to bother her and when not to. She followed instructions and had an easy-going personality. She was competent. It would be nice to have her back after the birth of the child.
“I will admit, I find this to be a favourable proposal. You are a good assistant, and I believe it would be difficult to find a better one. However, I am not sure how to go about finding someone willing to fill your spot for a year. I will think about this but know it may not be possible.
I have never heard of anything like it before. And if I find someone, you will have to be responsible for teaching them and such. But even then, if we are talking about September… It will have to be quickly. I do not expect you to keep working all the way until the birth. Thank you, Yvonne, I will consider a solution to this. Oh, and could you write Lady Malfoy requesting that she come here for our appointment instead. I expect I will be quite busy today.”
“Of course, Madame Black. Thank you so much, I am incredibly grateful.” Yvonne gave a slight curtsy on her way out and almost stumbled on a chair.
When Narcissa arrived at six, it was with wine and a stern face.
“Honestly Andy, I know you have a nice office, but if you had bothered to keep our appointment as it was, we could have been sitting outside enjoying the first day of April. Cancelling reservations at Pitztir is such a waste.”
Narcissa poised herself on Andy’s couch and conjured two wineglasses. Andromeda got up from her desk to join her.
“I’m terribly sorry Cissa, but I am in no state to be seen in Horizon Alley. And I did not have time to go home and change. And then my day was further complicated by Yvonne announcing that she’s expecting. In September. Honestly, she’s delightful, but I wonder why she kept it from me for so long.”
“Oh Andy, she might not have known about until recently. Not that you would know about such matters, of course. I did not know about Draco until five months before his arrival either. But now you need to find a new assistant, that’s such a shame. And a lot of work too. You seemed to appreciate Yvonne’s work.”
“I do and that’s where the trouble comes in. I have never heard of anything like it, but she wants to have a break for a year before returning to work. Her husband needs to finish his apprenticeship first. And I do enjoy the idea, but who could I get to take the job for a year? Yvonne’s the first person I hired that was actually competent. Half of them only took the job to find a spouse, and the other half spent the whole time networking for a new job. I simply cannot deal with that again. And what if the hire believes they can extend their position? I only need one assistant; I prefer my department structure as it is.” This whole thing was such a mess, honestly.
“Only one assistant for a department head is rather small. I mean her majesty has five. Plus, her head secretary has two assistants himself” Narcissa took a sip of her wine.
“And she drives them into the ground because she insists on personally overseeing everything. Of course, that is no critique of our divine lady, but my work does not require personal oversight of every single thing that comes through the department. I am simply its head, not its reason for existing.”
“You could always take someone from the labour force,” Narcissa suggested. “I am sure they would be happy to do it, and they know the ministry already. Circe knows its mind numbing work down in the basement. I could recommend you one of my old graduates?”
“You and your education centres. Is it a Malfoy thing? Lucius raises Abraxans and you raise mudbloods, what’s Draco’s hobby going to be?” Andromeda derided. She did not like the whole labour force as a concept. And especially not how it was supplied with new workers. It was distasteful, and she would rather not think of how much she knew of its inner workings. She never did that at the ministry.
“Careful there Andy. My centres produce the best test scores out of any. I am the sole supplier to the ministry. But if you do not want my help then I will not force it on you.”
“No no, Cissy, I would appreciate your help. Apologies. I am simply tired. There’s been a lot of work recently with the crackdown on smuggling. Oh, the length people go to get a pair of muggle jeans. They are so hideous too. But are you sure it is possible? I have not heard of anything like it.”
“With the approval of her majesty, anything is possible. But I doubt we need to go that far. Do not worry my dear sister, it shall be sorted.” Narcissa gave her a soft look.
“Thank you Cissa. I do not know what I would do without you. What the whole family would do without you.”
Narcissa let out a small chuckle at that, and they continued drinking the bottle of expensive French elven wine she had brought. The sisters moved to lighter topics, such as Draco’s recent engagement to Astoria Greengrass.
April 2nd, 1999
Hermione had just collected all the tasks assigned to her for today and was ready to head off towards the janitor’s office to hold a sign while it was reattached after someone had smashed it down at the Ostara galla. Apparently, a young lord had been absolutely convinced it was misspelled, and that there was an e missing in your.
The sign had said “Please do not access your office during the gala.” It seemed spelling was not a requirement to be considered well integrated into wizarding society.
A knock sounded on the door, and Penelope, their general manager, entered.
“Ah, Hermione, just who I was looking for. Can I borrow you for a moment? Under four eyes.”
“Of course,” Hermione agreed. She went out with Penelope and had expected them to stop in the long hall with all the unit rooms. Instead, they continued down the long nondescript hall towards Penelope’s office. Every door had the name of its unit leader on it in copper letters. Penelope was wearing a matching set and heels which made her look older, but Hermione knew she was only five years older than her. Yet she had made it to general manager of the ministerial labour force. And as a muggleborn too. Hermione wondered how she had done it, and if she could do it too.
“Right this way Hermione,” Penelope opened the door for her, yet didn’t follow her into the office. Instead, she closed the door behind her, and Hermione saw there was another woman in the small office.
“Lady Malfoy,” she curtsied. “How may I be of assistance?”
Lady Malfoy smiled at her from behind Penelope’s desk. A small smile, but not an immediately alarming one at least.
“It is nice to see you again Hermione. Penelope tells me you have been performing well here?”
“Yes milady”
“Good. Please have a seat.” Lady Malfoy indicated to the chair across from the desk. Penelope’s office had a small false window in the roof which shone directly down on the chair in which she was sitting. It made her blonde hair shine, and Hermione couldn’t help but feel uneasy. She had not seen Lady Malfoy since she graduated her education centre almost a year ago. When she had been there, visits to her office had been rare, and for most students meant disciplinary action. Hermione had never been caught getting into any serious trouble, so the occasion had been even more rare for her. She remembered all three visits vividly.
The first time was about a year after she had arrived at the centre. Lady Malfoy only concerned herself with the secondary centres which started at eleven, and her three centres only took students with “promising magical and academic potential”. Hermione had performed extremely well on her first-year exams and was suspected of cheating. Lady Malfoy had questioned her for over an hour before she was allowed to leave, and it had been so horrifying she would avoid her every time she saw her for the next two years. The way the woman always continued onto the next question, not giving anything away as to whether she believed you.
The second time was at the beginning of her fourth year when the ICW had sent a representative to the centre to ascertain whether all students were treated humanely. Hermione’s teachers had suggested her as a good student to represent the school, and together with Harry she had been selected to answer questions about their life. Of course, they did not tell the representative about the way the school performed disciplinary action (dependent on the teacher but always painful). Or the fate they all risked every time they put a toe out of line (being sent directly to the military labour force, also known as becoming a human shield). Or the way some students would simply disappear from one day to another, never to be mentioned again (especially the girls). At the end Hermione had received a golden bracelet and Harry some golden cufflinks. “As thanks for an extraordinary effort on behalf of the school.”
The last one had been a few months before her graduation. Hermione had applied for the ministerial labour force, and to be accepted you had to pass an interview with Lady Malfoy. After getting near perfect test scores and keeping a clean record throughout your whole life, of course. Just like the first time, the interview had lasted an hour with questions all the way from Hermione’s ethics (not very well defined) to her loyalty to the Empress (not that well defined either). But what mattered was that you convinced Lady Malfoy that you were what she wanted for a good ministry worker.
And now she was back in an office, with a Lady Malfoy who was apparently back in her usual mode of asking questions.
“I remember you had some very outstanding test scores at my centre. Especially in organisation and memory. You performed very well. Are those skills you still possess?”
“Yes milady. I have mostly been assigned to miscellaneous tasks, so they are very useful to me.”
Lady Malfoy nodded “I see. So you also do a lot of problem solving. Another area you scored an outstanding in.”
“Of course, milady. It often requires creative solutions.” Hermione was starting to sweat. Why had she worn her warm button up this morning? And her tweed skirt too? She would be a puddle before this was over. And on her way out, Lady Malfoy would step over it with a disgusted face, eternally disappointed in her promising student. No, she would not give anything away as to whether Hermione had succeeded. She would simply leave.
“Could you tell me about a time you used all three skills here at the ministry.”
The interview was much the same as last year, except much harder. And Hermione didn’t even know what she was interviewing for. She attempted to appease what few character traits she had learned about Lady Malfoy and put in some of the required talk about her admiration for both her and the empress. But whether it was even remotely successful remained a growing question throughout the thing. At last Hermione could not contain herself. She had just been asked about what she would do if she received a letter only meant for another person’s eyes, yet she had been asked by that same person to read it. Whose orders would she follow?
“I am terribly sorry milady, but I am unsure of why I am here. I believe I could answer the question better if I had some more context. For my answer would depend on who the two people were. There are so many factors to be taken into consideration.”
Lady Malfoy smiled, and again it was not a smile that immediately alarmed Hermione. But it didn’t put her at ease either. She doubted Lady Malfoy could ever do that.
“A very good question Hermione. And one that takes a while to answer. For now, let it be sufficient information that you are interviewing for the position of interim personal assistant for the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement while my sister’s assistant is on maternity leave.”
At the end Hermione was not sure how the interview had gone, nor if she would be told anytime soon. But luckily Lady Malfoy concluded the conversation with a semblance of an explanation.
“I believe you will be sufficient for the role. It lasts a year, and Mrs. Ricken will fetch you tomorrow at eight thirty from the main hall of this floor. She will determine the details with you. You may leave.”
As Hermione got up from the chair in a daze and went to the door, she heard Lady Malfoy from behind the desk:
“Congratulations Hermione. It will be interesting to see how you perform in an environment with real witches and wizards.”
Hermione was unsure if she had even heard correctly. Had Lady Malfoy just… admitted to having expectations of her. Or perhaps it was an insult. Whatever she had meant, Hermione had no brain power left to figure it out today. Instead, she simply thanked Lady Malfoy and left, closing the door behind her.
What the fuck had just happened.
Notes:
This magical world would die if they discovered Scandinavian maternity leave. And like, not creating labour camps.
Yeah sooo… This is my first story that is longer than a chapter. While I do know where we’re going, I don’t exactly know the road. So come along for the ride or something.
In terms of updates, I honestly have no idea. This is very much impulse posting, but I am determined to finish what I have started. So, it may take a while (it will, this is a slowburn) but I will be finished even if I am 90 and senile. I already have the another chapter pretty much done, and its summer so we will see how much more the muse is willing to provide :)
Feel free to recommend tags and give some feedback. Though please do so kindly, this is my fun and happy place.
Chapter 2: In which Hermione's life is shaken like a snowglobe
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
April 3rd, 1999
Hermione didn’t know her last name or who her parents were. She didn’t know if she would ever hold a wand again. But she had accepted that, it was what it was. But then again, she had also accepted her fate as a member of the labour force until her death. Now she got a year with… whatever it was the assistant to the head of the DMLE did. She had always wanted to know her last name. She had one, of course, Morgana. But every muggleborn girl had that as her last name, just like the boys had Merlin. But she wanted to know her original last name. The one she would have had if she hadn’t been born with magic. The one she would have shared with her family.
Yesterday she had continued with her tasks in a daze, and she hadn’t known how to tell anyone. So, she simply hadn’t. And now she wouldn’t show up at the unit room, but instead at the main hall, ready to be escorted into an elevator and out of the labour force. For a year, but still. When she had gotten back yesterday, she had cut her hair. It was needed as the ends were becoming broken and matte. And unruly too. She usually kept the length at just above her shoulders, it was more practical that way, and the hygiene products provided by the ministry were not exactly good for her curls. She rather suspected it made them worse. So, shoulder length it was.
As a young child she had had longer hair, but it frizzed uncontrollably. In the end, the matron at her first education had taken a large pair of scissors and cut it to the length she had had ever since.
During the morning, she had been in a daze still, and her nervousness caused her to be late for breakfast. Only according to her standard, as people were filing in right alongside her, but it was a problem, nonetheless. Luckily Harry had saved her some yogurt and made her a cup of coffee (a generous dash of milk, no sugar).
“Thanks,” she said as she sat down. He hadn’t been able to get them a seat further from the entrance, so she put her fingers tightly around the mug to warm them. “Were the lunchpicking privileges worth the sacrifice yesterday?”
No need to start talking about herself if she asked about Harry instead. It was what good friends did.
“Yeah, I got my first priority. The beef wellington.” He smiled dreamily. “Can you imagine, a whole month where I am certain to get the lunch I want. Sucks for you though. How far down are you?”
“Yeah, so about that…” Hermione was lost for words. How did she tell her best friend that she would be… leaving? Was that the right word, she was still working in the same building as him. And would continue living in the same building as him. But they would still be… separated. Practically worlds apart “Italkedtoladymalfoyyeasterdayandsheofferedmeajob. Upstairs.”
Harry blinked at her. “What? You’re going to have to repeat that again ‘Mione”
She sipped at her coffee, her stomach tying itself into knots so many times she thought it would never feel normal again. Why couldn’t she just tell him? She had to.
“Okay. So. Yesterday. Penelope said that she would like to talk to me. But really it was Lady Malfoy who wanted that. She interviewed me, but didn’t tell me for what. Apparently, I am now the interim assistant for Madame Black while Mrs. Ricken is on maternity leave the next year. And that is all I know. I’m meeting her today to talk about it.”
Harry blinked again. “That’s crazy ‘Mione. Like, absolutely bonkers. I… don’t know what to say. So you’re going to be upstairs? Have you told Lavender yet?”
Hermione sighed “No, but I probably should. And I should tell the rest of the unit too. I’ll go find them. Wouldn’t do to just not show up. See you tonight.”
She found Tina first, sitting with some of the other older members. Most people left the ministerial labour force in favour of one more favourable for having a family at some point. After all, people there were required to either live in the housing building or with a ministry approved roommate. Which was for people lucky enough to bag a person with citizenship. In the agricultural force you got a small cottage if you were married. And in the military force you got leave occasionally, and the allowance was enough for two people to survive on. None of the other sections required you to provide your own clothes either, so that also left quite some money in the budget.
If it hadn’t had the best life expectancy, the least mind-numbing work, and the best chance of getting the things needed for citizenship no one sane would choose it. But as it was, those three things made it the most desired force to be in. Noone ever got citizenship, of course, but the hope was still nice. You might even be able to reach the required amount of people willing to vouch for your integration if you networked enough.
Tina smiled at her as she approached.
“Good morning. Didn’t expect to see you for 20 more minutes, but it’s a nice surprise.”
The other people were looking at her curiously as well, but Hermione soldiered on. It wouldn’t be right not to tell Tina, and she would probably hear it from someone else anyways. She had told one person already; she could do it again.
“Yeah, about that… I won’t be coming in today. I got appointed as interim assistant for Madame Black. The one that’s head of the DMLE, not the General.”
She explained what she knew to Tina and her friends. They were even more stumped than Harry, as according to them, nothing like it had ever happened before. But none of them had heard of someone leaving for a year to raise their child either. You quit, or you simply worked until the birth and then the spouse took care of the child.
“I have heard about a few people who pooled childcare, so they all got pregnant at the same time and only one of them quit. But it’s a bit strange you know? I mean I’m not sure if I would let a stranger raise my child. But good for you Hermione. I’ll see you in a year then.”
Tina did seem genuinely happy for her, and she knew she would have been too, if it had been the other way around. But she would also have been jealous, and she wondered if Tina was so too. After all, she had worked here almost since the ministerial labour force had been established. If anyone was qualified it was her. Why had Lady Malfoy chosen Hermione of all the people here?
Hermione spotted Lavender next but decided to find Katie and perhaps Dean first. When Lavender found out, so would everyone and their pet beetle within the hour. Luckily Katie and Dean were sitting together.
“Good to see you up and about Dean. How are you feeling?”
Upon getting close, she could see that Dean had bags under his eyes and stubble all over. He looked horrible, like he hadn’t slept, but simultaneously like that was all he had done. It was a requirement within the labour force to shave facial hair, but she doubted anyone would snitch on him today. People in the labour force supported each other. The punishment of betrayal was steep, and there was little to be gained. Hermione spotted David from the corner of her eyes. Noone wanted to sit with him, and the kitchens always made sure the coffee near him was cold and filled with grounds. Hermione had learnt that last fact the hard way.
“Horrible honestly,” Dean sent her a watery smile. “But Katie told me they were considering replacement, so I’m going to pull through today.”
“Hmm, I may be able to give you at least today with unnoticed absence. And they’ll probably need to replace me anyways,” Hermione said. Dean looked like he needed to rest some more. Or to get healed. But there was no chance of that when none of your friends had wands or cauldrons. And no one could afford to buy healing potions from the apothecary. Healing was only to avoid death or permanent injury.
Hermione explained her new circumstances to the two, and just like everyone else they had never heard of anything like it.
“Guess when the purebloods want something enough, they’ll just make it a new thing that can happen. But at least it might set a precedent. A year upstairs doesn’t sound too bad,” Katie mused.
Dean sent her an alarmed look. “Don’t say that Katie! You never know who’s listening and it might sound like critique of our superiors.”
“Don’t worry Dean, I have the highest respect for our superiors.” She said the last part loudly enough for multiple groups around them to send weird looks their way. “Did they even ask you Hermione, or did they just command you to show up today?”
“I mean, I would have said yes anyways. But yeah, guess Lady Malfoy just told me what to do.”
Dean let out a little chuckle. “Then I guess its all like it used to be. But never mind all this talk. Congrats Hermione, we are truly happy for you. Even if I’ll admit I’m also a little jealous. But goodness knows you’re the best of the unit. Probably the whole labour force too.”
Katie nodded at that. Hermione ignored the compliment, as she didn’t know what to say. Instead, she smiled and turned away. And with that Hermione only had one person left on her list.
“Upstairs?!” Lavender exclaimed. “Well, you can’t go looking like that.” Lavender stood up and started fussing over Hermione’s clothes. She had worn her best dress shirt made of a nice white linen. And her skirt was her best one too, a burnt orange thing she had saved up for for three months. She even wore her bracelet.
“I see you’ve cut your hair which is good, but here, take this,” Lavender took her hairband out of her hair and handed it to Hermione. “Actually, let me tie it. That way your hair length will look like a fashion choice, you know? Oh maybe you’ll even meet someone up there and get married. Perhaps a young lord will see you working dutifully and fall instantly in love with you. And then goodbye to the labour force forever.”
Hermione decided to ignore the potential insult and accept Lavender’s help. The hairband was a shade of white a bit off from Hermione’s shirt, something Lavender commented on. “I mean to really complement you it should have been the same shade of orange as your skirt, but it will suffice. Unless…” Lavender looked at her with a studious gaze. “How long until you have to meet with Mrs. Ricken?”
Hermione was confused, but obliged “About an hour, its at eight thirty.”
Lavender nodded, “Okay, I think we have time, I’ll get Ronnie to do a colour changing charm for you. But we’ll have to hurry.” With that she grabbed Hermione’s hand and dragged her out of the dining hall towards the ministry.
They found Ronald Weasley in the big ministry foyer, a place they weren’t exactly supposed to go, but also not prohibited from. Hermione did acknowledge being on misc perpetually had its benefits. Lavender clearly knew exactly when he would arrive (08:05) and at which floo he would be (last row, the second one to the left). Hermione had never met Lavender’s… boyfriend she supposed he was. He had bright ginger hair and was lanky and tall. He seemed to try and hide the last fact, as he walked a bit hunched over. He was wearing trainee auror robes, but they were a crumpled and his shoes were scuffed. Just like Hermione and Lavender’s.
“Oh hi Lavvie. And… hello to you too.” He nodded at her.
“Good morning Ronniekins, I know we were only meant to meet for lunch today, but I thought I simply had to see my pookie bear this morning.” Lavender stood on her toes to give him a short kiss on the mouth. Hermione hadn’t seen anyone kiss before. She had heard about it from other students, but it wasn’t exactly something Lady Malfoy approved of, so people were very secretive about it. “And Hermione also needs your help for this teeny little thing.”
“Oh, okay, yeah, uhmm, yeah, sure, what is it?” Ronald Weasley seemed pretty insecure, but Hermione supposed Lavender had enough self-assurance for both of them.
Lavender smiled brightly at him “Hermione is meeting someone important today, so I was wondering if you could change her hairband to match her skirt.”
“Of course, yeah, I can do that,” he pulled out his wand from his pocket. “Just know colour changing charms were never my strength. But I should be able to manage orange. Just like the cannons, you know.”
Hermione watched carefully, determined to suck up every bit of knowledge and magic she could get from this interaction. At the school, everyone’s favourite class had been wand time. The class had a bin of old wands, and for one hour every day, they would get to practice basic spells with them. It was only grudgingly allowed by the teachers, but apparently it was the most effective prevention of obscurials and magical wilting. Both of which could be fatal not only to the student but also to the world around them. Oh, how she missed wand time, it was the highlight of everything. Nothing compared to the feeling of a wand in your hand. The feeling of being able to bend the world to your will. Of letting yourself flow freely through yourself and into the world. Of course, they had never been taught any truly powerful spells or any technique beyond “wave the wand in the pattern and say the words”. But it had still been glorious.
“Coloris,” Ronald said simply pointing the wand at the headband. Lavender held up a pocket mirror to Hermione, and the hairband was the exact shade of burnt orange as her skirt.
“Thank you so much Mr. Weasley. I’m in your debt.” Hermione gave a slight curtsy as she had been taught.
“Oh, its nothing really,” Ronald scratched his head and looked awkward. “And please, call me Ron. You’re a friend of Lavvie’s right? Any friend of Lavvie is a friend of mine.” He smiled. “Anyways, see you later Lavvie, I’m running late.”
With that, Ron was gone, and Lavender started dragging her to the stairs that led down to the basement. Only ministry employees and guests were allowed to use the elevators. And the labour force was classified as neither.
“Oh, isn’t he wonderful, my Ronniepookie? So gallant and charming. I’m meeting his mother this weekend. Of course, I expect that we will wait until my citizenship has been restored, that way I can marry as Lavender Brown and not Lavender Morgana. Or perhaps I will get an exemption and be restored early. That happened to Tracey Davis you know? And Ronnie’s sacred 28, so that has to count for something. Davis just married a random man she met in Diagon.”
Lavender blabbed on about her romantic love story. Hermione couldn’t help but be jealous despite her belief that Lavender was being completely delusional. She didn’t want to marry Ron Weasley though. That wasn’t why she was jealous. At least she didn’t think so. It was a reason she had wanted ministerial duty; no one expected her to marry soon and start popping out babies for the Empress. But what sort of man did she want to marry?
When she was younger, she had fantasised about a rich man marrying her. She wouldn’t mind if he wasn’t home a lot due to work. He would be smart and teach her magic. She would be a doting wife and perhaps he would have a sister she could be friends with. But now she knew how unrealistic it was. No sane rich person would marry her. And if he did, he would become completely ostracised. Then she had fantasised about becoming a mistress. She knew it was quite common to be let out of the labour force like that. But there was no future when you grew old and ugly, and the thought of the… services… she would have to provide was not appealing. She had never met a man she could imagine marrying, and Hermione thought she may simply not want that sort of life.
But then again… she did want a love like Lavender had. Someone to look forward to seeing. Someone to kiss. Someone to love who would love her back. What was wrong with her? She couldn’t have her potion and water in the same flask.
They arrived down on the basement floor, and Lavender left to go to a meeting for unit leaders. One she was likely 15 minutes late for, but who was Hermione to judge.
She waited at the single elevator that led down to the basement, and at exactly 08:30 the elevator doors opened and who she assumed was Mrs. Ricken stepped out.
Hermione didn’t know exactly what she had expected. She had known that Mrs. Ricken would be at an age where she would be having her first child. But witches could have children for many years. Hermione had probably expected someone like Lady Malfoy. Stern, middle aged, and moving in layers of society Hermione couldn’t even fathom.
Instead, Mrs. Ricken was a smiling young woman dressed in a salmon blouse with a matching hair tie. Her hair was strawberry blonde, and Hermione spotted her wand sticking out of the pocket of her light brown skirt. Even her shoes were happy, they had little pink bows on them.
Hermione curtsied, “Mrs. Ricken, a pleasure.”
Mrs. Ricken stepped out of the elevator offering Hermione her hand to shake. “Please, call me Yvonne. I really can’t get used to being called Mrs. anything. And we are to be almost colleagues, are we not?” Yvonne kept smiling.
“Thank you, Yvonne,” Hermione replied. “And yes, I do believe it to be something like that. But Lady Malfoy only explained that you were taking a year of maternity leave. She said you would explain the rest.”
Yvonne nodded, “Yes of course. Let’s get moving then,” she gestured to the elevator. “I’ll explain on the way. We only have two weeks to teach you everything you need to know.”
“Oh, I’m afraid I’m not allowed to use the elevators. It’s only for employees and guests.”
Yvonne scrunched up her face in confusion. It made her look adorable. “But aren’t you employed here already? Well, it doesn’t matter, you will simply be my guest today. And then when you have signed the contract you will be employed and it won’t be a problem anymore, right?”
Her smile had returned, and Hermione found she couldn’t object to the woman. Would she have to smile like that the whole time? She had barely dared to hope that she would be granted employee status, but from what Yvonne said… No, she wouldn’t get her hopes up yet. The elevator ride was exciting, and they even had to go through two. The labour force elevator wasn’t connected to the rest of the system. No one used it anyways. It gave a sort of hum in her stomach, and the second elevator was far larger and more ornate than the first one. There was nothing that was gilded on the basement floor, that was for sure. The grate on the second elevator even had animated flower motifs. Yvonne saw her staring at them.
“Oh yes, they’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Before Hermione could agree, she continued. “Each of the seven main elevators have a flower, one for each of the seven major potions categories. The smaller elevators each has one from the minor categories, though there are far too many of those to make an elevator for each. Much of the ministry is filled with details like this, her majesty is truly a genius, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, definitely. I walk past the wards separating us from the muggles every morning. They’re magnificent.” Yvonne looked weirdly at her at that comment, and Hermione attributed it to her not knowing where the labour force came from. Some ministry workers really did think they appeared out of thin air. “But I wouldn’t know much about potions, they don’t teach us those at the education centres.”
“Really? I suppose I don’t really use my knowledge that much either. I usually just buy them; they’re pretty cheap right?”
No. Hermione got one galleon per month as allowance, and then she put half into the collective sick-box. After all, Saint Mungo’s was only free if you had citizenship. The cheapest headache relief was four sickles per bottle, so Hermione could buy 4 per month and then have no money left for clothing, shoes, personal hygiene beyond what the ministry provided, and whatever else she was expected to possess as a ministry worker. That left no money for anything simply for pleasure, such as curing headaches. But she didn’t tell Yvonne that. Instead, she changed the topic.
“I’ve heard most ministry employees do not work on Saturdays? Do you usually do that?”
“Oh yes, sometimes. I like to come in for an hour or two on weekends if I’m available. Of course, if its someone’s birthday or wedding or whatever I go to that. But I come in at least one day every weekend.” Hermione wondered if every ministry employee was this happy all the time. Even when talking about working on Sundays. “It’s because Madame Black works from home during the weekend. I come in and sort through her mail and such and send the important things to her. The labour force doesn’t work Sundays, right? I hope you’ll be alright with working a bit there.”
They had arrived on the tenth floor and Yvonne was explaining as she went. Hermione knew most of it, but didn’t stop her. She had a kind voice, and it never hurt to make sure you knew everything.
“This floor houses the DMLE. There are eleven floors in total in the building, very magical number, you know? The basement floor, the ground floor where all the maintenance and adminstration is housed, then the department of labour, then education, and I believe health is next.” Yvonne paused to take a breath. “Then we have culture, finance, and then defence, of course. Lastly international relations and us. And then the Empress’ Office is on the top floor. Of course, all of them have longer names, but people mostly use these. And if you see something from a department that doesn’t have a floor, it’s because they’re a subdepartment who don’t know their place. Honestly, there’s no shame in being a subdepartment, but they really should use their proper title.”
Hermione silently wondered why they hadn’t made up a department for a twelfth floor. Twelve was more stable than eleven, right? But then again, she probably wasn’t smarter than the fucking empress.
“Madame Black isn’t in today, but you’ll meet her Monday. We’ll go through your contract, and I’ll show you the work. But first, lets got to the kitchenette, I’m absolutely parched! Do you drink coffee or tea?”
The DMLE’s floor was organised around the main elevators, with Madame Black’s office being right as you exited. The auror department was to the left and the rest of the department was to the right. The kitchenette closest was the one belonging to the prosecutors for petty theft and larceny, as explained by the sign above the door. None of them were there, and the office smelled vaguely like wet wool.
“I prefer coffee, but whatever’s the easiest is fine thank you.” The labour force only got coffee in the morning, and Hermione found it was never quite enough to get her through the day.
“They’re the same, I’ll show you. The coffee here’s terrible, but so is the tea. I bet they just make one big pot in the morning and supplies us through the day with it.”
Yvonne grabbed two cups and pulled out her wand.
“You just put your wand to the cup and say what you want. Look: Black tea with a dash of milk.” What she had ordered appeared in the cup, steam rising from it.
“I, uhhmm, don’t have a wand.”
“Oh. Sorry, I always forget. It just seems so strange. Isn’t it hard, not having a wand?” Yvonne asked
“I do find myself missing using magic. But I guess you can’t really miss what you’ve never known.” That was blatantly false. Hermione longed for a wand, desired it in places so deep she never looked in them. She was afraid what other things she would find there. But Yvonne needn’t be bothered with that.
“But if you don’t have a wand… there might be some trouble. Nevermind that, I will find a solution, and otherwise Madame Black will. How do you like your coffee?”
“Milk, no sugar please. And thank you.”
Yvonne handed her the cup, and they walked back to Madame Black’s office.
Madame Black’s office was the largest on the floor and consisted of four rooms. The front office where Yvonne sat. It had her desk, a seating area for waiting guests and some cabinets for the most important things for the assistant. Additionally, there were magical walls which could partition the space into a maximum of three rooms, with the seating area, the desk, and a small passing room into Madame Black’s office each becoming separated. Yvonne didn’t say, but Hermione suspected they required a wand to be controlled.
“It’s nice if I want to work in peace or deal with confidential documents. Oh yes, you also need a security clearance. Hmm…” Yvonne looked introspective for a moment. “Maybe that solves the wand trouble… Or can you apply for a wand permit soon?”
“No, I applied last year, so I need to wait another two until I can apply again. I was denied due to insufficient proof of knowledge.” Hermione hadn’t been able to prove that she knew how to use a wand, given that such tests were offered at the fee of ten galleons.
“Do you know how to use a wand?” Yvonne looked like she hadn’t even considered the possibility.
“Yes, of course. But to prove it you either need a Hogwarts diploma or a test which costs ten galleons.”
Luckily Yvonne didn’t comment on how much she thought that was this time, and instead they continued into the main office. It had large floor to ceiling windows overlooking the front of the ministry, which had two smaller wings stretching around an oval plaza. It was filled with luscious flowers and sunshine. Nothing like the windy and barren one behind the ministry. Across the muggle road at the end, over a wide bridge laid the imperial palace where the empress had her residence. Madame Black’s desk was large and had two chairs in front of it. Additionally, she had a large seating area with two couches and three comfortable looking chairs. To the left stood a table with six chairs around it, each with their own inkwell and writing mat. Two doors led away on the right side, with a large fireplace in between.
“That one leads to Madame Black’s private office. Only she can go in there. And her majesty, of course. The other one is the filing room. We store office supplies, and copies of all important documents, as well as any the office has handled for the last two months. Madame Black likes to keep track of things. The originals go to the archive or wherever they need to go, of course.”
While the amount of paperwork Yvonne had described wouldn’t have fit in the room under normal circumstances, the generous use of expansion charms made it all fit on about four square metres.
“Madame Black likes to have guests and entertain in her office, but I will teach you about that when we come to it. But you can usually go in when she has guests, unless she tells you otherwise. She doesn’t like it when things are inefficient and preventing us from our job would be.”
They went back out to the front office, and Yvonne grabbed some papers before seating them at the couch.
“Let’s go over all the paperwork first. We need to get it filed as soon as possible. And it will make getting your security clearance easier. Where do you live currently?”
“Labour force housing, the building right behind the ministry.” Hermione replied, and while she had never been ashamed of it before, something about saying it now felt… less-than.
“That won’t do. Its not really suitable for an employee to live with the labour force, even if its only interim. The DMLE has some apartments in Diagon Alley. You can live there for free while you work here.”
Yvonne was still smiling, and she had a glint in her eye.
“As for pay, you will get about 70% of my salary, as we provide your housing. That’s about 42 galleons per month. As you’re not a citizen you do not get benefits from the state,” Hermione was stunned. 42 galleons per month. It was… an absurd amount of money. She barely heard the next part. “So I was thinking we could give you some extra salary to compensate. I mean you’re losing out on a lot without holiday pay, health insurance, and overtime and such.”
Yvonne summoned a magical calculator and started mumbling. “Holiday that’s 12% plus health… hmmm let’s say another 12%. I usually do ten hours overtime that’s ten galleons…” She noted some things down on a paper before looking at Hermione.
“All in all that comes out to 67 galleons per month before tax. After, it will probably be around 50 I believe. Your first 40 galleons are tax free, and up until 100 its 40%... yes that would be 50 galleons per month. I know it’s not that much, but I get by just fine with it. The ministry provides most of my meals anyways. And Jorn, my husband, has a very generous family.”
Yvonne, the menace of a smiling woman, looked at Hermione like she hadn’t just given her 600 galleons. The amount of money she made in 50 years.
“50… 50 galleons? That’s… and an apartment too?”
“Yes, I was thinking I could help you move in tomorrow? It’s fully furnished. I return next June, but I would like some handover time, so let’s say you get paid this month in full and June as well.”
So it was 750 galleons. Hermione didn’t know how to conceptualise that amount of money.
“You… why are you so nice to me. I mean, thank you, I’m so indebted to you I cannot even express it, but why?” Hermione was at a loss. At a loss for words, a loss for understanding, a loss for sanity. And Yvonne, perhaps also at a loss for sanity, kept smiling.
“Well, a lot happens in a year. And when I return, I would like you to be nice to me too. But why wouldn’t I be nice when I have the opportunity to? Noone’s done this before, and Madame Black gave me free hands with the budget, so I am simply paying us both an assistant’s salary. Because I can.”
“I get one galleon a month right now.” Hermione didn’t know why she said that. It probably didn’t matter to Yvonne. It didn't matter to anyone at the ministry. But perhaps it was an attempt to show her gratefulness. Or maybe it was to impart on Yvonne, the significance of what she had just done. But Yvonne didn’t seem to react, except saying:
“And now you get 50. Here’s your contract, if you could bring it back signed tomorrow, I can get you registered for the apartment and a security clearance.” She clapped her hands. “Now let’s move on to look at the mail.”
Notes:
Guys, remember: God gave you Sundays, Unions gave you Saturdays.
The labour force has neither, though they do get Sundays off because no one else wants to work those days.Also, the money stuff in here is based on pure vibes. I was actually sitting with my calculator and doing it before I realised: I could also simply not do this. Maybe I’ll regret it later, but that’s a problem for future me.
In general, everything is pure vibes. Idk what Rowling says about the ministry, and idc. This is my story, and I ignore canon as I please.
Though feel free to point stuff out in the comments, I’d love to discuss it.
Chapter 3: In which the author finishes the grand remodelling of Hermione’s life
Notes:
I made a minor fuck-up last chapter, Yvonne returns in June, not July. Hermione’s contract ends by July:) Sorry ‘bout that.
I tried to make it so that this is available for me to post on Monday, as I’m travelling. If posts any other day than Monday, I fucked up lol.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
April 3rd, 1999
Hermione and Yvonne finished going through everything a bit after lunch, and they said goodbye to each other after Yvonne had expanded the inside of a cardboard box for all of Hermione’s things. Whether the expansion was needed was something Hermione doubted, but better safe than sorry.
Hermione made her way back to her room and started packing. It didn’t take long, as she didn’t have many clothes, and little else in terms of personal belongings. She left out what she would need the next morning and put everything in the box, neatly sorted and stacked. The three books she owned put in alphabetical order. She surveyed her room. It was small, probably the size of Madame Black’s filing room, and only had a bed and a cabinet. Both were made of lacquered wood with more scratches than lacquer, and the closet door was missing half of the handle. She was lucky as her closet had a small mirror attached, though it was cracked through the middle right over her nose.
A knock sounded on her door, and Lavender peeked in.
“Hi, I just wanted to see if you needed any help with packing?”
“No thank you, it was rather quick. Wait, when did you hear I was moving out?” Hermione hadn’t even told Harry yet.
“I have my sources,” She winked. “But that doesn’t matter. Tonight’s your last night, right? We’ll have to throw a last night farewell party. Or I guess it’s a see-you-again party.”
When people moved out of the building, they usually gathered in the dining hall to wish them good luck and spend time with them one last time. But Hermione was coming back, so she didn’t really deserve the party. All of this had just been thrown at her anyways.
“I honestly don’t know if it’s appropriate. I’m coming back, and it’s not like I did anything extraordinary to deserve it.”
Lavender rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Hermione, quit the modesty. Besides, all your friends want to say goodbye. And everyone likes an opportunity to celebrate. Just let me handle it.”
“Thank you Lavender.” Hermione paused. “You’ve been a good unit leader to me, thank you.”
Lavender faced quite a bit of criticism for being shallow, and while that was partly true, she was a great social leader. And in the corner of her mind, Hermione thought that maybe, that was more needed than someone who always showed up on time. Not that she would ever tell Lavender that. No need to encourage her tardiness.
“No need to thank me, just think of a song and drink and get it to me before five, okay?”
With that she was gone, and Hermione was left wondering what drink and song she wanted to symbolise her pause from the labour force. The person leaving had to stand on a table holding a speech. Then they chose a drink (quality depending on how good friends they were with the kitchen people) and a song (quality depending on how good friends they were with the musically inclined people). If Lavender handled it, she pretty much had free hands, insofar as something was obtainable for the labour force.
What was her favourite drink? What was her favourite song? Would she even want those to be played? She decided to go for a walk to clear her mind. When she came down the stairs from the girls’ dorms she met Harry.
“Lavender said you needed help with something? Wouldn’t tell me what.”
Hermione paused. She hadn’t forgotten about Harry. But she had forgotten that he would be another person left behind. They had always been together, right from the beginning. Hermione’s first memory was when they moved out of the nursery and into separate dorms. That was the first time she could remember being away from Harry. They had never been apart for more than a day, and now… She would still visit. That was probably allowed. It had to be allowed.
“I was just about to go on a walk. Wanna join me?”
Delay the inevitable. Just… talk about stuff.
“What’s your favourite song Harry?”
He looked at her alarmed. His green eyes startled, and, like always, piercing right through her.
“You’re leaving.”
Not a question. Just a statement. He knew it was true, of course he did. Hermione doubted Lavender had told him, Harry was just good at reading people.
“Only for a year. And I’ll visit. The DMLE has an apartment in Diagon I can live in. You can visit me there too.”
She stuffed her hands in her pockets and kept her eyes on the stonework under her feet. It was quite pretty; she had walked on this plaza every day for a year and never noticed the beauty of the flagstones she walked upon. They walked in silence for a while before Harry answered her question.
“I like the one that goes: Bury me there in the old hearths glare,
Bury me deep in the dunes by the sea. But I don’t know if that one’s appropriate. We are talking about your last song, right?”
“Oh, that one, yeah it’s good. I was thinking of using The sun also rises. But I think it’s a bit too solemn. Maybe I’ll go with Blue is the eye.”
Yeah, that felt right. It wasn’t goodbye, it was just see you later. A year later, with visits underway. Probably. Like taking a long nap.
“I don’t know their names, just sing a little bit from it. That’s what us normies do.”
“You know I’m a horrible singer. Just like you.” She looked up at him with a smile. “A crack in the sky lends a light to the dark, The wind blows the ember, a coal from the hearth.”
“What drink do you wanna have? I doubt you could ever top Davis, like, where does one even get that much vodka?”
“Her fiancé smuggled it in for her I heard. But I honestly don’t know. Maybe a coffee with a bit of alcohol in? Coffee’s always good. Lavender’s doing the whole thing, she probably has ideas. Let’s just walk for now.”
Alcohol was technically prohibited, but Penelope averted her eyes as long as they all showed up sober and ready to work the next day. Getting some was the hard part, and most of it was homeburnt in people’s rooms. The kitchen made beer in a secret shed behind the building, but it was rare for them to share.
They walked along the wards as they always did, and eventually around the whole ministry building and back.
“I always thought you would be the one to leave me. But now I’m leaving.” Hermione said with a guilty smile.
“No, I would never leave you. And you’re not leaving me. When I get my name back, I’ll get you out, okay? I promise. Just like you promise to come back. We stick together, okay?”
Hermione nodded. “Okay.”
That night after dinner, Penelope came over, gave Hermione a handshake and left.
“Thank you for your service, Hermione. I look forward to having you back.”
With that, Lavender jumped up on the middlemost table and started talking.
“Everyone! Tonight marks a very special night. Hermione will be working elsewhere until next July. So tonight, she will be having her… LAST NIGHT!”
Everyone started shouting and clapping in time.
“Speech! Speech! Speech! Speech!”
Lavender gave her a hand, and Hermione joined her on the table. She had prepared a short speech and felt very misplaced standing here in front of everyone. She had barely talked to half of them.
“I’m not very good at talking about feelings. So I won’t. Instead, I’ll simply say this: I have been very lucky, and I think that is luck that we all deserve. I’ll do my best to share my luck with you guys. I don’t know how yet, but I’m not gonna leave you behind. ‘Cause we stick together.”
Some people started clapping, other’s looked confused and whispered to their friends, Hermione supposed news of her promotion hadn’t made it all the way around. Before it got out of hand, however, Harry and her unit mates started passing out coffee with some sort of homeburnt liquor, and the musicians started playing.
A crack in the sky lends a light to the dark
The wind blows the ember, a coal from the hearth
You carry it proudly through ditches and trees
And cross the horizon to lie down and sleep
Lie down and sleep, sleep well, my darling
Blue is the eye watches over the sea
Lie down and sleep, sleep well, my darling
Blue is the eye that looks after thee
Over the ocean toward a new world
The city, the island, the tear in the pearl
A boat on the water casts out a clear еye
The darkness bеneath us is teeming with life
Lie down and sleep, sleep well, my darling
Blue is the eye watches over the sea
Lie down and sleep, sleep well, my darling
Blue is the eye that looks after thee
Handed the fire from the hearth on the hill
The coal and the ember, they glow away still
Songs to the stranger, familiar and clear
Ring out in chorus for all you hold dear
Lie down and sleep, sleep well, my darling
Blue is the eye watches over the sea
Lie down and sleep, sleep well, my darling
Blue is the eye that looks after thee
A flash in the dark glimmers silver and blue
Breaches the waves for a moment or two
Moves away slowly back into the deep
Blue is the eye watches over the sea
Lie down and sleep, sleep well, my darling
Blue is the eye watches over the sea
Lie down and sleep, sleep well, my darling
Blue is the eye that looks after thee
Lie down and sleep, sleep well, my darling
Blue is the eye watches over the sea
Lie down and sleep, sleep well, my darling
Blue is the eye that looks after thee
As Hermione stood on the table, looking out over her friends and colleagues, she realised she would miss this more than she thought she would. The labour force sucked, a lot. But she had her friends, and they were all stuck in this together. And she wasn’t foolish enough to think that everything would be the same when she had been away for a year.
Hermione jumped down and went to party with her friends. It wouldn’t be the same. But hopefully it would still be good.
April 4th,1999
Hermione met Yvonne at the elevator the next morning, cardboard box and signed contract in hand. She was more than a bit tired, but she didn’t regret spending time with her friends.
“Wonderful,” Yvone clapped her hands upon receiving the contract. “Let’s go get your security clearance in order. And then I just need to register everything, I’ll show you how, its important knowledge.”
“Can I still visit the labour force housing when I work for Madame Black? And may I have guests at the apartment?” Hermione asked.
“No and yes. The apartment’s yours to use, you just need to return it in the same state as it is today. Only members of the labour force are allowed on their premises. Apart from superiors, but you don’t really count as that. But I don’t think anyone would mind if you visited them down here in the basement. As long as your work isn’t impacted Madame Black doesn’t really care.”
Yvonne gave her an even bigger smile than her standard one.
“I understand it can be hard to experience such big changes in your life. But it’s important that you don’t let your past hold you back from what you can achieve here.”
Hermione thought the comment was a bit strange, but it was probably just Yvonne being nice. From the atrium of the first floor they went to the security office. There was only one security guard there, reading a quidditch magazine. He looked up disinterestedly when they entered.
“Office of security, how may I help you? Any non-urgent requests should be directed to their relevant suboffice in their open hours.”
“Hello, I am Yvonne Ricken, assistant to the head of the department of magical law enforcement. We are here to get Hermione Morgana registered for her security clearance.”
He turned away from them, pointing his wand at a sign which floated towards them.
Any non-urgent requests are asked to wait until their relevant sub-office is back in office.
“Excuse me, this request is indeed urgent.” Yvonne was still smiling, but her eyes had gained an edge that wasn’t there previously.
“I don’t see how ma’m. Please return tomorrow.”
“The head of the DMLE must have her new assistant ready to work tomorrow, which is why the papers must be filed today. Are you denying the head of the department of magical law enforcement her right of an efficient processing within the ministry?”
The guy rolled his eyes but summoned a few papers.
“Please fill out these forms. May I please see your wand?”
He was still talking to Yvonne and completely ignored Hermione.
“Miss Morgana does not have a wand. However, that is another case we need to talk about. For her to access various features of the ministry I would like for her to be issued a testing probe adjusted for her level of clearance.”
Yvonne slid Hermione the papers, which she started filling out. The guy just started laughing.
“One, we do not give those out. Even I have never touched one, so I don’t see why they would give one to some upstart mud- muggleborn. Two, those fuckers? They’re all or nothing. A testing probe has pretty much full clearance to everything. You can’t special make them like that.”
“Once again, I ask: Are you denying the head of the DMLE’s request?”
“Nah, I can’t issue test probes. Only the bossman can do that. Come back tomorrow and talk to Mr. Yaxley. He’ll try to bonk the reality of the world into your pretty little assistant head.”
Hermione handed Yvonne the filled-out papers, which Yvonne handed the man. Mr. Smith, his nametag said. Hermione was used to people being rude to her, but she didn’t realise that employees also treated each other like that.
“I will. And I will bring Madame Black. So I expect you to have that security clearance ready.”
Yvonne flashed him one last smile, and Hermione followed her out.
“I don’t like to pull rank or pull Madame Black into these things. But some people, like that guy, understand nothing but rank and power. The threat of telling Madame Black is usually enough, but maybe we’ll have to bring her too. Let’s go get your keys, and then we can go work a bit before getting you moved in.”
“What is that thing you talked about? The test probe?” Hermione asked.
“Oh that, well I thought it might be the solution to you not having a wand. It’s used by the maintenance team when working on stuff they don’t have the clearance for. It’s basically a wand core with no wood, so you can channel magic into it, to activate stuff, but not cast any spells. Like the walls in Madame Black’s office. My wand is just registered to my clearance, so I can’t go around activating stuff I’m not supposed to. But we might need to find a different solution if you’ll get 12G clearance by having one.”
It seemed like her lack of a wand was an even bigger problem than she had thought. What if they decided that it was too much trouble and sent her back? She thought back to her friends last night. They would welcome her back, she was certain. If they sent her back, they sent her back. The world was what it was. Being upset didn’t help.
Hermione tried very hard to ignore the part of her that had hoped. The part she had allowed to revel in anticipation of her new life.
“What’s 12G clearance?” Ask questions and learn stuff. That was fun, and you didn’t have to think about the bad things.
“That’s the highest clearance, the one her majesty has. The clearance goes from 1 to 12, with every level having seven sublevels. Those are a bit complicated, but they basically determine what stuff you’re allowed to access withinin your clearance. There’s your baseline clearance, ours is 10C, and then the addendum clearance, which allows us to read most things meant for Madame Black.”
At the DMLE’s central office, Yvonne pulled out a folder of apartments.
“It’s self service on Sundays, but I have the same clearance as Madame Black- so will you tomorrow. So, we’ll just pick one for you.” Yvonne looked through them before pulling one out. “How about this one? Combined kitchen and dining room, 1 bedroom, 1 bathroom plus a living room? Without a wand you’ll have to spend so much time cleaning, but I can get you something bigger if you want?”
“Not at all, thank you so much. That is more than enough.” Once again Hermione was stunned. A full apartment, in Diagon Alley too. A place where no one could enter without her permission.
“Why does the DMLE have apartments anyways?” She asked.
Yvonne looked through the folder. “Well for this one… looks like I’ll have to tell you tomorrow. Anyways, you just need to sign here,” she handed Hermione a pen “and the keys are yours.”
There was barely anything for them to sort through, as it seemed most of the ministry was as averse to weekend work as Mr. Smith in the security office. Because of that, they were quickly on their way to Hermione’s new apartment. She still couldn’t believe that. Her apartment. Just for a year, but that was still more than she had ever thought would be possible. The keys felt heavy in her hand, and way too small. Like she could lose them if she didn’t hold them tight enough. So, she held on until she had red marks on her palm from the key.
“Your building has a communal floo in the entrance hall. That key is for your apartment, and that one is for the main door. The two small ones are currently above your security clearance. The floo address is “Diagon Alley 49”.”
Hermione rarely used the floo, but Lady Malfoy insisted on teaching the proper etiquette for doing so, so Hermione made it rather elegantly through, in her own opinion. Especially considering she was carrying all her earthly possessions. That was until she saw the way Yvonne just stepped through as if it had simply been a door, and not an honest-to-Circe fireplace.
“I’m just practiced,” she said, smiling at Hermione’s gaping.
The entrance hall to Hermione’s new home was long and spacious, with a double entrance door at one end, two fireplaces along it and a wide staircase at the end. There was a smaller door which Yvonne said must be the basement, and some notice boards. PLEASE KEEP QUIET AFTER 10PM!!! – YOUR SLEEP DEPRIVED NEIGHBOUR was the only one she could spot from the distance. The building had four floors without the ground floor, and Hermione was going to live on the third one.
“There’s no one on the fourth floor, it’s just an attic. Everyone who lives here believes it’s been barred due to residue from a potions accident a few years ago.”
Yvonne pointed to the door at the top of the staircase with a formal looking sign on it, explaining just that. Hermione supposed she would know more about that tomorrow. They reached a door in polished red-tinted wood. Shaking, Hermione put the key in the lock. It turned smoothly, giving a click as it unlatched. She reached out, opened the door, and stepped inside. She knew Yvonne was following her but didn’t register it as she looked around.
There was a small foyer, barely big enough to fit two people at the same time, which led into a combined kitchen and dining room. It was rectangular, with a large window directly at the end. She looked out into it and saw Diagon Alley below her. To the left was a large circular opening at an intersection. She knew it was sometimes used for concerts and festivals. To the right she could stick her head out and see Gringotts looming about 200 hundred metres up the alley.
Next to the kitchen was a living room with windows in the same direction, and a bathroom attached to it. It had a couch and two chairs positioned around a radio. Lastly, the bedroom was also attached to the living room, double as large as her whole room had been back at the labour force housing. Hermione turned to Yvonne in amazement.
“I’m going to live here?”
“Yes, if you want to. We can go back and look at the others if it’s not to your liking.”
“No. This is perfect.” Hermione smiled at the other woman. The world was going insane if she just got to live here.
“Do you need any help unpacking? Or maybe moving some of the furniture?” Yvonne offered, looking around herself.
“No thank you. But thank you ever so much Yvonne.”
“I’m just doing my job. But I am glad you appreciate my efforts. I like to be there an hour before Madame Black, so if you’re alright with it, I will see you tomorrow at eight?”
Hermione nodded. “Yeah, tomorrow at eight, sounds good.”
Yvonne left, and Hermione slumped down on the couch. Her couch. She should probably unpack, but that would take all of ten minutes in total. So, she simply sat on her couch, looked around at her living room in amazement, and eventually fell asleep.
When she woke again it was 9 PM, and she started to unpack her things so she could get ready for bed. Her bed was wide, enough for two people to sleep comfortably, and on one of the bedside tables was a little alarm clock. She set it for 7 AM the next morning and fell asleep again as soon as her head hit the pillow.
April 5th, 1999
When Hermione awoke the next morning, she faced a strange problem. She had no food. She had never had to cook breakfast for herself, and even if she had had any clue on how to approach this task, she didn’t have any food. She had learned to cook at some point, but then she hadn’t used it since. Perhaps that was something she should work on. That also tied in quite nicely with her vaguely developing plans of learning how to make potions, yet it didn’t solve her current problem. Maybe she could get food at the ministry?
She left her apartment at 7:40, intent on being ten minutes early, but when she walked down the stairs, she met an old lady. Hermione nodded and smiled at her, but when she tried to move past, she grabbed her arm.
“So sorry dear, I can see you’re busy, but I was just wondering if you have moved into the empty apartment on the third floor?”
“I suppose so. I have moved into an empty apartment on the third floor, but I don’t know if it’s the empty apartment.”
The woman chuckled, “In that case you’re my new neighbour. I just wanted to say hi and warn you that the couple living underneath you can be a bit… pedantic when it comes to obeying the housing regulations.” At Hermione’s confused look she added. “Oh, you haven’t got a copy? Strange, I was given one when I moved in. But there should be extras down by the notice board”
“Thank you so much ma’m. I'm afraid I have to hurry now.” Hermione smiled at the woman. She seemed nice, if a bit stern.
Her way was slowed down further when she couldn’t find the pot with the floo powder, before a man came by to use the other fireplace.
“They’re automatic. You just go in and say where you’re going. Like this: Honeydukes Hogsmeade!”
With that, he was gone before she could thank him. She gave it a try.
“Ministry of Magic!”
She stayed on her feet as the floo spit her out in the atrium of the ministry. She made it at 8 AM exactly, Yvonne exiting the elevator right next to her.
“Good morning,” she smiled. “There’s a meeting with all the subdepartments from the Aurors this afternoon, so we will mostly be preparing for that today. And getting your clearance sorted, but that will have to wait until Madame Black is here.” Yvonne handed her a stack of folders as they entered the office. “These are for the meeting of The Council of Lords this Friday. Could you write a summary of all the cases? I’ve picked these as the most important ones going on currently.”
Hermione got to work at the extra chair that had been pulled up to Yvonne’s desk, and before she knew it, it was 9 AM, and the floo roared to life inside Madame Black’s office.
“On the dot as always. She’ll probably be out in a bit to say hi. I sent her all the details yesterday.”
A bit meant about 30 seconds before Andromeda Black exited her office. Hermione had seen her older sister from a distance once, but she realised now, it might as well have been Madame Black. She had long dark curly hair and stormy eyes to match the wild nature of her hair. She looked to be in her mid-forties, but it was hard to tell.
“Hello, you must be Hermione. And hello Yvonne.”
Hermione got up to curtsy, and Yvonne did the same.
“Hello Madame Black. Thank you for taking me on.”
“It is I who should say thank you for helping me out. Yvonne wrote that there was some trouble with your security clearance and getting a test probe for you. We shall go see Mr. Yaxley immediately.”
Andromeda Black had an imposing no-nonsense presence, and Hermione didn’t doubt she valued efficiency as Yvonne had said. However, this was probably the first time she hadn’t seen Yvonne smile. Madame Black had noticed it too and seemed to know why.
“You do not have to join us, Yvonne. I am certain Hermione and I can handle this. We will return shortly, once Parcival has come to realise the need to stay in my good graces. Come, Hermione.”
With that, Madame Black had continued out the door and Hermione rushed to follow her. When the older woman entered an elevator, the two people already in there left it discretely, and they were alone on the ride down.
“Yvonne will be doing most of your teaching. I trust you to make sensible choices and only have a few rules. I work Monday to Friday nine to five. Outside of that you may contact me through the switching box on your desk, or per owl. I will respond as I see fit. If it is an emergency, and by this, I mean a true emergency, you may call me through the fireplace in my office. However, you may not stick your head through. You shall simply call my name. If I do not respond after a reasonable time, you should call out again. Only in the direst emergencies may you stick your head through. You may never enter fully into my home. Is that understood?”
She spoke in a deep and serious tone. Hermione had no desire to ever need to call her using the floo.
“I do ma’m. May I ask a question?”
“You may always ask questions, as long as I do not find you to question me and my judgement needlessly.”
“By never, do you mean truly never, or never will there be a case where it is needed?”
“Just like I trust you to make the right decision on when to call me, I trust you to make the right decision should such a case where you would consider entering my home come up.”
Hermione nodded, and at the same time the elevator pinged, signalling their arrival. She didn’t think anyone had handed her responsibility like that before. It was frightening, but there was a freedom about it too. A feeling that she was trusted.
Mr. Yaxley grimaced at their approach.
“Madame Black, Mr. Smith did tell me I should expect to see you.”
“Indeed. I am here to ensure everything goes smoothly with Miss Morgana’s security clearance and issuing her a test probe.”
Hermione started to understand why Yvonne was so dedicated to serving Madame Black. She spoke succinctly and with power. Every part of her essence exuded competence, from her black robes and perfectly ironed dress shirt to her discrete eyeliner making her look even more imposing. All of it completed the image.
“The security clearance has been approved. Level 10C with an 11G addendum per section 15, part f. I believe this is the first security clearance of its kind to be issued to anyone like Miss Morgana.”
With that last part he shot Hermione a look, like she was Madame Black’s disgusting pet snail whom he only accepted due to her owner’s status. Which may very well be how he saw her.
“As for the test probe, I am afraid that is a bit more troublesome, as we cannot adjust their clearance. They all have the equivalent of 12G as they simply work with anything.”
Madame Black levelled him a look that would have made Hermione cave on the spot. It seemed intimidation was a family skill.
“Are you telling me your office is unable to produce it? That in all the years this ministry has existed it has never become a problem?”
“It is less of an unable, and more of an impractical.” Mr. Yaxley responded coldly. “We could spend the hundreds of galleons it would require, and waste the months away developing this, so that once in a blue moon someone would have an easier time. But this office has better things to do.”
There was some weird power play going on, and Hermione couldn’t tell who was winning. The two were staring at each other, until Madame Black made a decision.
“In that case, I would like you to issue a standard test probe to Miss Morgana.”
Mr. Yaxley practically hissed. “I believe that to be out of your security clearance and department.”
“It is certainly also out of your security clearance Mr. Yaxley. Remind me of it again, 6E if I recall correctly? I can certainly go fetch her majesty right now and waste yet another person’s time with this. Or you can simply acknowledge that I am in my right to do this as the department head with clearance beaten only by certain members of my family, and the Empress herself. The choice is yours, Mr. Yaxley.”
The man turned on his heel and returned shortly handing a black cylindrical object over to Hermione.
“It will only work for you, Miss Morgana. Oh, and do give my congratulations to dear Vonnie, will you? I heard she’s expecting-”
“You may congratulate her yourself if you so wish, Parcival.” Madame Black cut him off. With that, they were out again, and Madame Black seemed angry, if Hermione could make such an estimate after knowing her for all of fifteen minutes.
“Do not mention what he said to Yvonne. She does not need the extra stressor right now.”
Hermione would have agreed anyways, but under the full weight of Madame Black’s gaze, she had no other option.
“Of course, ma’am.”
“Your test probe has full clearance. That which only her majesty has. You will use this responsibly, and if I find out that you have misused it, I will not hesitate with having you thrown into Azkaban.”
“Of course, ma’am”
With that, Madame Black disappeared into her office, and Hermione continued her work (After pulling the walls back and forth, just a few times)
Notes:
I am fighting the urge to put a smiley at the end of everything Yvonne says:)
I’m pretty sure I just doxed myself with that tradition for the muggleborns. So, say hi if you’ve also stood on a milk crate saying your goodbyes to that weird cultlike organisation you’ve given your youth to:)
I considered showing the whole teaching process for Hermione, but it’s not really important. And you’ll get so much bureaucracy in this fic anyways. And this way we’re ready for the real parts now.
Everyone: we need to find a solution to Hermione not having a wand
The solution: giving Hermione a wand
Everyone: ah yes, the obscure tool not made for this purpose at all, with incredible security risksThe songs referenced are:
Burial Blessing - Johnny Flynn and Robert McFarlane
The Sun Also Rises - Johnny Flynn and Robert McFarlane
Blue is the Eye - Ye Vagabonds
I found all of them in this playlist: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aNpA6yRene0&list=RDaNpA6yRene0&start_radio=1&t=3458s
Chapter 4: In which the other main character finally makes an appearance
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
April 5th, 1999
The test probe wasn’t exactly like a wand, the feeling of shaping something lacked. But it was very much a magical medium, and she could feel the magic gathering in her body and leaving through the probe. She ended up just standing for a while, letting the magic dissipate from the probe, revelling in the feeling of magic surging through her body. At last, Yvonne asked her why she was just standing there, and where that pine tree smell was coming from.
She continued with the summaries set to be presented on Friday, and when she was done, she handed them to Yvonne. One case in particular had caught her attention. A young noblewoman, second in line to the Selwyn lordship, had been violently attacked in her home, which had then burnt down in a mysterious fire. At the scene, various clues indicating terrorist involvement had been found, and the current hypothesis was that the attack was politically motivated by the Order of the Phoenix, a terrorist organisation operating underground. Malene Selwyn was in St. Mungo’s, and likely would be for a while. The case had yet to hit the news, as the Selwyns requested it kept quiet, but something had to be said about it eventually.
“Well done, Hermione, do you want to take your lunch break now? I usually take about an hour, but as long as you can keep up with what you’re supposed to do in a day, you can structure it yourself.”
Hermione’s stomach rumbled, and she was remined of the complete lack of food at her new home.
“Thank you,” she considered whether her question would be inappropriate. “You mentioned the other day that the ministry provides most of your meals? Does that include breakfast and dinner?”
“There’s breakfast in the main cafeteria from seven to eight every day. And they also have these take-home meals starting at 5 PM. It’s nice if you’re running late or have a busy day.”
It seemed all her meals really could be provided by the ministry. Not that she had a choice until she got paid. But it might still be an idea to know where and how to make other food. With that she left, deciding to go the small cafeteria on the DMLE floor. She picked up a sandwich and a bottle of pumpkin juice, before heading for the basement. Perhaps Yvonne had simply suggested she take her break now by coincidence, but she might have known that the labour force had theirs from 11:30 until 12:15.
When she reached her old unit room, she went past it, going for Harry’s first.
“Harry!” She exclaimed upon entering. Hermione beelined straight for Harry to give him a hug, and he hugged her back tightly.
“And hello to everyone else too.” She said belatedly.
“Everything go okay?” He asked
“You won’t even believe it. But yes, it did, they even gave me this.” She pulled out her test probe. “It’s like half a wand.”
She told them all about what had happened, and people started hearing that she had come. Eventually Harry’s unit room was filled to the brim, and more people were standing in the hall.
“You have to visit me,” she told him. “I can even see Gringotts if I lean my head out far enough.”
“Yeah, I’d love to. But how do I get there? The labour force floo only works on Sundays, and that only goes to the Leaky Cauldron.”
She considered the problem. Over time, they might be able to find another solution, but as it stood currently, she had to make do with what they had.
“I’ll meet you there on Sunday then. At three, I doubt I’ll have work then.”
“Making you work on Sunday is honestly sacrilegious. But I’ll look forward to it.”
At that, the bell signalling the end of the labour force’s lunch break rung, and Hermione made her way back up to her own office. Yvonne was eating a bowl of stew with little cucumbers on the and looked up when Hermione came back.
“Before I forget, I need to tell you about the two other keys you got yesterday. The DMLE doesn’t use the apartment itself, however, as the apartment is near Dippet’s Place, the circular plaza, it has strategic advantages. The attic is used as a lookout post when prominent figures appear at various festivals. And your basement section has a tunnel allowing for safe transport or shelter for those people. You’re not supposed to use either, but you have the keys in case a resident drops something into your basement section, or something else happens. Madame Black was quite interested in the Selwyn case, could you bring her the full report?”
Hermione continued her work, averting her eyes from Yvonne’s strange dietary habits.
April 7th, 1999
Hermione was in line to get lunch at the cafeteria one day, when she overheard two fancy looking employees talking.
“I doubt they can keep it out of the media much longer.”
“Yeah, even if the empress steps in, the rumours will make any censure obsolete.”
“I don’t know why they’re even doing it; it would make a perfect example for anyone considering shacking up with the terrorists.”
“I heard from my cousin, the one who’s married to the heir of the Shafiqs, that they’re going to push for it to become a media case. Even the Selwyns secretly want it to get out. They just can’t say that for propriety’s sake.”
“I know the Council has a statement ready to be published as soon as its been approved. Just a formality at this point. It will condemn the terrorists for what they did and give deep condolences to the Selwyns. Horrible case really, I heard Malene was really taking well to becoming heir.”
“How do you even know that?”
“I wrote the statement, of course.”
Hermione picked up her lunch, spicy tuna sandwich, and went down to eat with her friends. She heard so many secrets in the DMLE that she could barely keep track of them. The only bad part about was that she couldn’t tell Lavender most of it, as it was confidential.
April 9th, 1999
When Hermione showed up to work on Friday, it was to a fretting (but still somewhat smiling) Yvonne.
“My healer moved my appointment today, to be from one to four, instead of after five. And with the Council of Lords meeting from one to five, you’ll be alone here. Are you going to be alright? You’ll just have to sort any incoming missives and respond to the urgent ones. The rest we can go over when I come back.”
Yeah, Hermione could be alone. She had been here almost a week now. And it was just three hours. Nothing could go wrong in three hours, right?
Perhaps going wrong was the wrong way to describe what happened. The universe changing lanes at the last minute at a rush-hour intersection was a more apt description. Yvonne left the office at 12:45, and Madame Black followed at 12:50. The Council of Lords met monthly to discuss important government affairs and consisted of all department heads, as well as any lord of the sacred 28 who wanted to participate. While the Empress had absolute power, the council advised her on important matters. Madame Black usually presented the more spectacular or significant cases, and sought advice on how to handle them, especially in the press.
So, when a file landed on her desk at 13:10 turning the whole Selwyn case on its head, Hermione got pretty pissed at the universe. Apparently, the Selwyns had recently switched their entailment to absolute primogeniture instead of male-preference primogeniture, leaving Malene Selwyn’s younger brother without the lordship he had expected his whole life. Additionally, she had recently become pregnant with a child from an unknown father, yet intended to make the child her heir, and thereby eventually Lord Selwyn. At this scandalous behaviour, her father and brother had joined forces to prevent the sullying of the bloodline and make the brother heir to the Selwyn lordship again.
All of this would have been fine, or whatever term was applicable in a case of attempted parricide, if Hermione’s boss hadn’t just left for a meeting in which the Council of Lords, headed by the Empress herself, would absolve the Selwyns of all guilt and blame a terrorist organisation instead. And now, Hermione was stuck between letting the, very respected, Council publish a statement half of Magical Britannia would know as false within the hour, or disturbing the meeting of the same, very respected, Council.
She knew she had a copy of the agenda somewhere. Perhaps this could wait for Yvonne’s return. But right after “Formalities” it said “Noteworthy legal cases by Madame A. Black, Head of the department of magical law enforcement”. Formalities, which was ending in five minutes. Fuck it, maybe she could just give the report to some clerk with a note. She had to try. Grabbing a Dicta-Quill, she rushed out the door, report in hand.
While taking the elevator, she was dictating right on the manila folder, feeling like the elevator was moving impossibly slow. It was only one floor up, how could it take so long. Luckily, the top floor had sings pointing her in the directions of the custom built meeting room for the council. She arrived just as Madame Black was supposed to have started speaking, but she didn’t know for sure, as she was stopped by a guard outside the meeting room.
“Halt. State your name and purpose.” He commanded. The guard wore green and gold, indicating he was under the Imperial Office instead of the DMLE.
“Hermione Morgana, I am here to deliver important documents to Madame Black, as her assistant.”
He looked far from impressed at that. “When the Council of Lords is in session none may enter or leave.”
Okay, she couldn’t enter, but maybe the papers could. “Please, could this folder enter? It is incredibly important. There is risk of a false public statement being put out.”
“Please allow me to correct my previous statement. When the Council of Lords is in session none, or nothing, may enter or leave.”
At that, a woman came rushing past her, nodded at the guard, who nodded back, and went in.
“I’m sorry what. She could enter, yet my, very important, papers cannot?” Hermione was getting frustrated. If she lost her job and home over this… this man, she didn’t know what she would or could do.
“That was Lord Flint, Miss Morgana. She was invited to this meeting.” He kept his face clear of any emotions, but the implied you weren’t was still clearly communicated.
“So if someone else is late, I can give them my papers, and they can bring it in?”
A sliver of hope shone through.
“It is not my business what the council members bring into the meeting. However, all the usual attendants have shown up now.”
“Fine. I will wait then.” She stared him straight in the eyes and stayed where she was defiantly. He seemed to soften up, just a bit.
“Look, I cannot let you in. But if you really want to stick your neck out, you can try opening the door. They may decide to investigate and let you in.”
So she could attempt to open the door, be denied by it, and perhaps get someone out here who would bring her papers in. Sounded like an okay deal considering everything. Hermione had learned enough about Madame Black the last week to know that she would not appreciate it if Hermione did not at least try this to get the truth to her.
As she had said, “You are my assistant, you should assist me. I do not want to have to assist you with every little problem you encounter.”
She took the three steps and attempted to turn the door handle. Which opened the door to a room with about thirty of the most powerful people in Britannia. They were sitting around a gigantic round table, and all turned their heads to stare at her. She shot a look at the guard who seemed just as shocked as her. But there was no going back now. Hermione made what she thought might be the worst curtsey of her life, before hurrying to where Madame Black was. Her boss had clearly been speaking when Hermione entered the room, and now she was the subject of the coldest stare those grey eyes had ever sent anyone. Probably, that was what it felt like at least. And that was not the worst part, no. Madame Black was sitting only one space from the Empress. Her majesty The Empress Voldemort, divine dark lady of the empire of Britannia, to be perfectly clear. Who was also staring intently at Hermione. She could feel her head separating from her body as she walked closer.
After what felt like aeons, Hermione reached Madame Black and handed her the folder.
“What. Is. This. Hermione?”
Hermione swallowed. “Very significant additions to the Selwyn case ma’am. My gravest apologies.” She gave another curtsey, just to see if that helped. It didn’t, but Madame Black looking at the notes dictated directly onto the folder did.
Selwyn case – attempted parricide – brother and father
M. S. pregnant by unknown father – foetus still alive
Both have been arrested – involvement irrefutable
Report signed by ten aurors – likely known by whole department
She widened her eyes just a smidge and cleared her throat.
“Ladies, gentlemen. It seems we need to hold back on that statement for a while. Thank you, Hermione. You may leave.”
Hermione hurried back out of the room as fast as she could while holding her last shreds of dignity together. The door was still open, and she only had eyes for it, and the reprieve it promised from all the stares. She didn’t notice an interested stare from the woman leading the meeting, and neither did anyone else.
When she made it back to the office Hermione was shaking. She was going to get fired. No, worse executed. Perhaps even thrown into Azkaban. She hadn’t forgotten Madame Black’s threat the very first day. How had the door even opened? The guard had said the door wouldn’t open, yet it hadn’t even resisted a smidge at her touch. She could barely work the rest of the day, so nervous was she for the inevitable fallout.
Yvonne returned a bit after four, and when she asked how it had gone, Hermione broke down crying. She told her colleague everything through her sobs, and Yvonne just hugged her. She ran her hand over Hermione’s hair soothingly.
“I’m sure Madame Black will understand. The door opening wasn’t your fault, okay? I think you should stay until she’s back, but if you really want to, you can go home.”
Hermione shook her head.
“No. I need to show that I can face the consequences of my choices.”
Yvonne nodded. “Very sensible. Now, let’s get back to work. What other things arrived while I was gone?”
Mary was always bored during these meetings. She concealed it well, of course, but it was unavoidable. If it had only been her department heads it would have been tolerable. But she had to include a bunch of incompetent wannabe politicians whose only talent was wasting the family fortune away. If only she hadn’t needed all of those lords to keep her in power. Lord Flint even had the gall to arrive late. That woman would very soon be facing some scandal. Perhaps she had been colluding with the disgraced Selwyns? No, too obviously made up. But Mary would think of something.
The Selwyn case, though? That had been interesting. It had seemed like an ordinary attempt at arson, sloppily executed, but very attention grabbing. While Mary was loathe to admit it, she did have a thirst for drama. And well, an assistant opening the unopenable door in the middle of her meeting to deliver news of attempted parricide, that was certainly dramatic.
She had heard about Andromeda’s strange ploy to keep her beloved Yvonne on board. Unconventional, but as long as things kept running like they were, she allowed her department heads quite a bit of leeway. And Marry had to admit that girl had saved them quite some public embarrassment. Or an extensive round of obliviation, but she doubted that would have been possible with such a case. The girl, Mary didn’t recall her name, had handled it impressively too. While she had looked startled at the beginning, she did manage to retain quite a bit of composure. She doubted some of the idiots sorrounding her even noticed her insecurity. Yes, the Selwyn case was interesting, but the girl. She was intriguing.
Mary would have to make sure Andromeda rewarded the girl for her work.
At five, Yvonne and Hermione received a paper plane with a short missive from Madame Black.
Hosting post-meeting soiree in my office. Please prepare like usual.
Yvonne nodded at the note like it made perfect sense. At Hermione’s confused face, she explained.
“Madame Black likes to host little get-togethers in her office after the Council of Lords have had their meeting. They’re usually about twelve people or so. I order canapés for twelve anyways. There’s a cabinet for the wine in Madame Blacks office, we just have to put it out with enough glasses. I believe the office is neat enough for guests, but perhaps you could have some extra chairs brought up? Just go to the main maintenance office, they’ll sort it out.”
Hermione rushed off to attend to her task, happy that she wouldn’t have to face Madame Black immediately, along with her entourage of all the people she just embarrassed herself in front of. The guy manning the desk looked like he knew exactly what her request meant, so with that there was no avoiding the inevitable. She let two elevators pass her by due to them being “too full”, in hopes of delaying herself just a bit more.
When she made it back, the guests were already inside, and the chairs had arrived. Madame Black, however, was very much outside. Along with her younger sister, who stood in the corner, seemingly examining her nails. Hermione tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry.
“Hermione.” Madame Black looked at her directly, eyes like stone.
She curtseyed, Madame Black first, then Lady Malfoy. Everywhere else it would have been opposite, but as it was the former’s office, she took precedence. Because proper etiquette was surely what would save her from certain death.
“You made the right decision today.”
Never mind that, she wouldn’t die. Probably, but that was better than certainly.
“While it is regrettable that you entered the chamber, the extenuating circumstances made it… acceptable.”
What was she supposed to do now? Madame Black was still staring directly at her, and Lady Malfoy had given up her pretence, and was looking too. She went for a curtsey.
“Thank you, Madame Black. And I apologize for my impropriety.”
“Never mind that now. I shall brief you and Yvonne.”
Luckily, that made Lady Malfoy disappear into the office. It seemed the rest of the meeting had been rather dull, and most of the follow-up they had to do was paperwork and press statements. They were dismissed, and just as Hermione was about to catch an elevator, Madame Black caught her.
“Apologies Hermione, but could you take this with you to the atrium? Just drop it off at the information desk.”
A large box was levitating when she turned around, and she reached out to grab it. However, it was heavier than she had expected, and she dropped it. All the papers that had been inside spilled out across the elevator hall. While it was certainly embarrassing to drop something in front of Madame Black, Hermione counted herself lucky that no one else was around. Furiously blushing, she dropped to the floor immediately to start picking up what looked like wand permits. It seemed that today had not brought enough mortification for Hermione though. Because as she was scrambling around the floor, picking up papers, the Empress entered the elevator hall.
Hermione had barely caught a glimpse of her in the chamber earlier that day, but now, she could truly see. Her majesty was tall and kept her pose straight. She had shining jet black hair styled into an impeccable array of curls and waves framing her face. Her lips were painted a dark red, which complimented her eyes, an unnatural shade of dark brown, teetering into maroon. Eyes which looked directly into Hermione’s. She waved her hand, no wand in sight, and all the papers flew back into the box, neatly sorted.
Madame Black curtseyed as deep as she could, and Hermione hurriedly got up from the floor, trying to curtsey even deeper, as she was supposed to.
“Honestly, Andromeda. There is no need to just stand and look when a wave of a wand could solve the problem.”
“Apologies your majesty. I was quite shocked.” Hermione had never heard Madame Black’s voice as deferent or quivering before, and she doubted she would again soon.
The Empress flicked a finger, and a black cylindrical object lifted itself from the marble floor into her hand. She had pretty nails, painted the same shade as her lips. The Empress was still keeping her eyes on Hermione, even as she spoke to Madame Black. Hermione looked back, transfixed by the beautiful eyes.
“You dropped your… wand, Miss?”
“Hermione Morgana, your majesty.” Hermione curtseyed deeply again, her knees almost giving out.
“Andromeda, you should get Miss Morgana a wand holster. It will not do to have her dropping this thing all over. Her possession of it has saved us quite some trouble today. Thank you for that, Miss Morgana.”
The Empress nodded at her, and Hermione stood like frozen. She had to respond, right? If her voice even worked anymore. Maybe she would just open her mouth like a fish, no sound coming out.
“It was my pleasure, your majesty.”
There, that was normal. Her majesty held out the test probe, indicating for Hermione to retrieve it. What was the proper way of accepting your wand-equivalent from the fucking empress of your country where you didn’t even have citizenship? She went for simply going there, letting the Empress drop it into her hand and retreating, front still to the honest-to-fucking-Circe supreme ruler still staring at her. Damn those eyes were intense.
“Thank you for the wine, Andromeda.” The Empress stepped into a waiting elevator and disappeared, leaving two shell shocked women in her wake.
Ignore that, just ignore that. Every alarm inside Hermione’s head was ringing and telling her not to dig too deep into her thoughts about the Empress. Her internal alarms were probably right.
“The information desk, you said Madame Black?”
“Yes Hermione." Madame Black swallowed. "Thank you. I will get you a wand holster for Monday.” Madame Black’s voice was still shaking, and she left for her office hurriedly.
Hermione left the box of wand permits at its intended destination and flooed home. She hadn’t grabbed anything from the cafeteria in her hurry to leave, but she wasn’t hungry. She had trouble sleeping that night and tossed around trying to forget the way those eyes stared at her. The strange way they were brown but almost not.
Notes:
Yay! They’ve met each other. Now they will be totally normal about it, I promise. No weird lesbians here, look guys, there’s a seagull eating a whole pizza slice. No need to be suspicious of my lesbians’ abilities to be normal about attraction, no sir.
For Mary, I imagine she looks like Hedy Lamarr or perhaps Lauren Bacall. She very much emulates that Old Hollywood glam.
Something something, Look into her angel eyes, One look and you're hypnotized
She'll take your heart and you must pay the price, something something
Chapter 5: In which everyone wants answers but none appear
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
April 11th, 1999
Both Saturday and Sunday carried quite a lot of letters with it from the Selwyn case, and Hermione and Yvonne needed to sort through all of them. By lunch on Sunday the novelty of getting to read all the letters had worn off, and Hermione had become quite efficient.
“This one just… rehashes the entire case?” Hermione wondered aloud. “Never mind, it ends with refuting the evidence, calls the whole Selwyn case absurd and says we should be finding the terrorists instead of arresting goodhearted, innocent purebloods.”
Yvonne nodded with an amused smile. “Oh yes, those. Some people seem to think Madame Black is personally responsible for everything that goes on here. Sort it as junk mail, no need to file it anywhere but the filing room. We’ll just throw it out in two months anyways.”
“How am I supposed to measure up to you in just one week? I feel like I can barely do anything without asking you.” There were all these things that made perfect sense to Yvonne, and Hermione had no clue where to even start with learning it all.
“You’re not really. Madame Black doesn’t expect that of you. She expects you to be sensible and responsible, which you are. You showed that Friday. And you can always write to me when I’m away. Especially these first few weeks. I expect I’ll be going crazy at home doing nothing. I’ve always liked doing a lot of things.”
At two, Hermione began seeing the bottom of the stack of letters. Luckily most were either easy enough to answer, or too stupid to warrant one. The amount of people who thought they had cracked the case or simply wanted to complain that it wasn’t cracked soon enough, was astounding. There even were a few blaming it on Malene Selwyn, as she had “stolen” the heirship from her brother. The fact that these people then directed their complaint directly to Madame Black made them seem even more astounding in Hermione’s opinion. Did they think she was working on the case personally?
She barely made it out of the office in time to floo to the leaky cauldron to meet Harry, but just as she stepped into the pub, he came tumbling out of the floo. While he managed to stay on his feet, his skin did have a greenish tint.
“Whoah, haven’t done that in a while I think. Just give me a moment, okay?”
Harry sat down on a chair taking deep breaths, and the colour slowly flowed back into him. He adjusted his glasses which had become skewed during the travel and got back up.
“Guess you do that every day now, huh?” He tried to start the conversation.
“Yeah, guess I do. Now lets go, its not very far.”
There had become a weird distance between them. Not an obvious one, not a large one. But they weren’t the same as they had been. While they walked, Harry told her about what had happened while she had been gone. Not much it seemed, though her unit had gotten a new member.
“How’s Dean doing?”
“I honestly don’t know. He’s back at work, and seems to be over the worst of the illness. But…” Harry looked around Diagon Alley, as if searching for a way out of the conversation. “I think it’s still there, you know? Sometimes, when he thinks people aren’t looking, he looks… tired, I guess. I don’t know, maybe I’m just paranoid.”
“That sounds really concerning, Harry. Do you think he needs to go to a healer?”
“Maybe. But if its not serious it will be a waste of money. And if it is serious, it will be really expensive. I doubt the board would approve it.”
Every year, they elected six members for the trusteeship of the sick box. The members sat for two years, and every expenditure had to be approved by an eight-vote majority, with no abstaining. They didn’t have much money, so it made sense that they would guard it tightly. But Hermione couldn’t help but feel that it was wrong. Dean needed help, yet they couldn’t give it to him in case someone became fatally ill. All they could do was wait for him to either get sicker or get well. But if neither happened, there was nothing they could do. Not without risking someone else’s life.
“Let’s talk of more positive matters now.” They had reached the apartment, and Hermione showed Harry inside. While she hadn’t been paid yet, she had snuck a cake and some tea out of the ministry.
“This apartment, its really amazing Hermione. I mean the view, the space, the kitchen. I’m so happy for you.” Harry smiled at her genuinely.
“I know. I’m so thankful.” She began “But… you’re still stuck in the labour force. You… you could live here if you wanted to?”
Harry shook his head. “No. There isn’t really space for me here, and I doubt that it would be approved. Besides, I only have a few more years left. I can survive six years more, when everyone else has to stay there their whole lives.”
“We could always share the bed.” Hermione protested. “And if we really wanted to, we could get the approval, I’m sure. If you had been in my shoes, wouldn’t you offer it? Haven’t you planned to offer it since you became aware of the eventual return of your family assets?”
“That’s different, Hermione. My family’s money isn’t really mine, I didn’t earn it, I barely know why it was taken away, I don’t know how much there is. This,” Harry waved his arm around to the apartment. “is all yours. You worked for this; you will work for this. Me receiving money I have nothing to do with is different. And for the whole thing to work we would need to be married, you know that. I would never ask that of you.”
Why was Harry always so stubbornly selfless.
“No matter all that. I’m offering this. Because I want to, because I care for you. You know I’ve never had a friend like you, I could never imagine any man I’d rather want to marry, you know that. You know that I won’t marry anyone anyways.”
It was such an obvious solution, why would he refuse it?
“I know that, but what if you regret it?” Harry asked, eyes staring into the teacup. “Besides, I don’t want to take this year from you. It’s your experience, you should focus on making the most of it. You have so much to give, I don’t want to dim your light, you know? If I was here, I’d just be pulling you down.”
“Harry no. You wouldn’t. Besides, I’m just some muggleborn without a family name. One day you will be Harry Potter. I’m the one pulling you down. Muggleborns are worse at most things anyways, you know that.” Hermione said. She had been told it her whole life, so why wouldn’t it be true?
“You know you’re not just some muggleborn, right?” He asked incredulously “You are the best of magic of all of us, the smartest one too. I think you can do great things if you’re allowed to. And I won’t prevent you from that by taking up space.” Harry took a long sip from his cup before continuing. “This whole thing about getting my family name back is really starting to seep in, I guess. But I don’t know if I want it, you know? It’s just… they’re all dead ‘cause they betrayed the empress in some way. And their choices forced me to live my life in the centres. It’s like… dirty money in a way. Not that I’m not grateful I get to leave, but…”
Hermione thought about it. While she had never been resentful of Harry for his background, she had wished that she too would be free one day. Of course she had.
“I suppose I’ve never really thought about it that way. Do you feel resentful of them?”
Harry stared down into the table for a while, not saying anything.
“Maybe. But I don’t want to. Maybe it would make it easier if I knew what they were arrested for. But no matter what… its not the same, and I can’t barge into your life like this.”
Hermione’s testing probe suddenly felt very heavy in her pocket.
April 12th,1999
Monday morning rolled around, and Hermione awoke more tired than usual. Harry had stayed late, and they had talked about all sorts of things. She had suppressed her strange encounter with the Empress until she entered the office, coffee and breakfast in hand. On her and Yvonne’s desk was a wand holster with a note attached.
Dear Hermione
I thought this should suit your needs. It resizes itself to fit you. Please take care.
Madame Black
Take care? Of what? The wand holster? Herself? Or perhaps something else? The holster was made of beautiful brown leather that fit itself comfortably on her left arm. Hermione easily discovered that her “wand” would be pushed out magically if she moved her wrist just so while intending it. Almost like doing magic. She pulled the probe in and out a few times, just to revel in the feeling.
Yvonne hadn’t arrived yet, so Hermione just started to sort through the mail preparing Madame Black’s morning briefing. She came rushing in the door thirty minutes late, pale and hair sticking out of its ribbon.
“Apologies Hermione. The morning sickness was really bad… but that’s not excuse! Oh, you’ve started already, delightful.” Yvonne let out a sigh when she sat down, but a small smile was still on her lips. “Could I ask you to take over the morning briefing today? I can’t guarantee I won’t start randomly throwing up into Madame Black’s face.”
“Of course, Yvonne, I have most things ready. It’s still mostly the Selwyn case and then a few pieces of legislation passing through various parts of the department-“
Yvonne waved her off with a smile. “I trust you have it handled Hermione. You’re doing remarkably well in all of this.”
Hermione blushed. “Thank you, I’ve had an exceptional teacher.”
Madame Black arrived at nine AM on the dot. Five minutes later, Hermione knocked, ready to present the briefing. Should she mention the wand holster? Or was it meant to be one of those unsaid pureblood things?
“Enter.” Madame Black called.
Before Hermione had a chance to feel out whether she should say anything or not, Madame Black came to her rescue.
“I hope you found the wand holster to your satisfaction.”
Hermione curtsied. “Of course, thank you Madame Black.”
The other woman nodded. “Do not mention it. In fact, I believe it to be best if neither of us were to mention this to anyone. Now to the briefing please.”
April 17th, 1999
The rest of the week passed by in a haze, Hermione trying her best to keep up with everything she had to learn while also visiting her friends during the lunch breaks. Harry still refused to come live with her, Dean still looked ill, Lavender was still dating Ron. Before she knew it, Friday had arrived and with that Yvonne’s goodbye. Madame Black had arranged for a small reception in a nearby meeting room. Few people were there, Yvonne’s husband, some friends, both ministry and not. Three of the attendees were also assistants, as they told Hermione when they approached her after the few short speeches.
“You must be Hermione Morgana?” A tall brunette girl asked her. Behind the girl was a girl and boy, both looked to be 18 at most and were obviously siblings. Before Hermione could answer the first girl continued. “I’m Rhiannon Shafiq, third assistant to the head of the Department of Magical Health and Satisfaction. These two are Ophelia and Ovid Carrow, they’re assistants to the head of the Department of Magical Education and Youth.”
Hermione felt flustered under the weight of their combined gazes. They were all dressed like the wealthy purebloods their names indicated them to be. It didn’t help that Rhiannon was incredibly pretty. But she had faced the Empress in an even more awkward encounter. She could get through whatever this strange coordinated attack was.
“Yes, I’m Hermione Morgana, assistant to the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It’s a pleasure to meet all of you. How may I help you?”
“Well, maybe it’s us that may be of help to you,” Rhiannon said mysteriously. “All of us assistants hold small soirees every once in a while. Only those who are assistants of department heads, of course. Every second Thursday after work as well as whenever someone decide to throw a little party. You should come next Thursday. We meet on the fifth floor, the 30th at five.”
Hermione nodded. “Thank you, I would be delighted to come. Yvonne hasn’t mentioned anything about this though, is it only for younger assistants?”
It was strange Yvonne hadn’t mentioned it, but maybe she had just forgot. It didn’t seem likely to Hermione, but she couldn’t find another explanation. Rhiannon was maybe a year or two older than Hermione, so perhaps Yvonne was considered too old? Or maybe they just forgot to invite her?
“Mrs. Ricken isn’t part of our little club. It’s invitation only, you understand. When she started her position Edwin Greengrass was a member, and now Daphne Greengrass is one. The decision was a bit controversial, of course, as is your invitation.” Rhiannon held a pause. “But some of us are hoping Mrs. Ricken may join us in the future, after all your position is the only one of its kind on this whole floor.”
Rhiannon was clearly trying to tell Hermione something, but she only became more confused. What did the Greengrasses have to do with Yvonne not being invited?
“Why can Yvonne and Miss Greengrass not be in the club together?" She decided to ask. Worst case they would rescind the invitation from the weird club Yvonne hadn’t been invited to. Hermione wasn’t sure she wanted to go if they didn’t want someone as nice as Yvonne.
“Oh, Lady Greengrass was a Yaxley before marriage.” Ophlia quipped from behind Rhiannon. As if that made anything anymore obvious. But Hermione also didn’t want to seem more stupid than she probably already did, so instead she nodded like it made perfect sense.
“We’ll see you on the 30th then,” Rhiannon said before turning to leave. Hermione wondered what it was with Yvonne and the Yaxleys? First Parcival Yaxley, and now the Greengrasses. Perhaps she should ask sometime, but not at Yvonne’s party. And it couldn’t hurt to go once, right?
April 30th, 1999
Hermione had been busy since Yvonne had left, but while it was hard, she also enjoyed it. Nothing had ever required her to think and do as much as she had done the last month. When she came home she was exhausted, but she also felt fulfilled in a way. As if the exhaustion was because of something meaningful instead of having held a sign for two hours. Additionally, she had so much space for herself, it was nice having what felt like true peace. She tried to visit her friends on their breaks and keep up, though she could only come two or three times a week. That was probably the only bad thing she could find. She missed her friends and their closeness. While nothing much happened at the ministry, they still managed to have so many things going on in each other’s lives. Lavender was still convinced that her and Ron Weasley would marry, and since she had never been this close with someone this long, Hermione was starting to believe her. In short, it felt like Hermione was truly living her life, and mostly the good parts of it.
Of course, that feeling didn’t show its head every day. Some days it was very much the opposite. Hermione still hadn’t been paid yet, but she would the next day. She had created an account with Gringotts and filed all the paperwork in anticipation. The lack of funds didn’t really bother her as she had never experienced anything different. She got her food and housing for free as always, and she had brought enough ministry personal care products to last her until she got paid (She was looking forward to trying another conditioner though). She had, however, noticed the difference between her clothes and the clothes everyone else wore. The ministry employees had better clothes, more fashionable clothes, and way more clothes than Hermione. It certainly didn’t help whenever she was feeling like she could never measure up to Yvonne.
The lack of clothes hadn’t bothered her enough, though, that she was planning to buy anything more than perhaps a new shirt with her first paycheck. She wanted tea and coffee for her apartment, new care products, some potions and books. A lot of things were more important than a new wardrobe.
The Thursday where she would be meeting all the other assistants (except the ones who weren’t liked by the Greengrasses, apparently) arrived sunny and warm. Hermione had squeezed the very last of her conditioner out the night before and spent much longer than she usually did deliberating what clothes to wear. It wasn’t lost on her that most of the other assistants were Sacred 28 and likely wouldn’t wear her best clothes even if they ever had to visit a pigsty. She had no choice in the matter though and wore her burnt orange skirt with the headband Lavender had let her keep. And, of course, the wand holster. She felt nervous, if anticipatory about the day ahead.
She reached the fifth floor five minutes to five, having asked Madame Black to leave a bit early today. While she preferred to have Hermione there whenever she was working, she was also a very reasonable boss. The fifth floor housed the department of health and was on the smaller side of the departments. It was still absolutely huge, of course. And she had no idea where on the fifth floor she was supposed to go. Hermione stood in the elevator hall for what felt like an eternity, wondering if she should exit or wait here. Perhaps someone would come? She started to feel invisible eyes on her in the empty hall, and a blush crept its way across her whole face. Just then a loud ding sounded through the silent hall, shocking her. Out stepped four people, the Carrow twins among them, all dressed like they had never seen anything but silver spoons. She looked down on her own, pretty nice in her opinion, outfit and blushed even more. It felt like her face was a stove, and she was convinced the others could see it.
“Oh hi.” Ovid nodded. Then they all started walking, and Hermione awkwardly followed. The two others didn’t make any attempt to introduce themselves, and no one in the group talked to her. They did talk to each other though. Apparently all four of them worked together as assistants for the head of the Department of Magical Education and Youth, and before that they had gone to Hogwarts together and attended something called the Slug Club. Hermione had a hard time believing any of them had ever been near a slug.
They all reached a crowded meeting room, Hermione trailing behind and feeling awkward. She wasn’t sure what her purpose was here, and while she spotted Rhiannon in a corner, the girl was talking animatedly to some other people. Hermione didn’t want to look too awkward, so she settled for taking one of the glasses of white wine offered and intently examining an artwork on the wall. A tall woman with jet black hair was brandishing a wand in complicated patterns, and a giant castle rose from underneath the Earth. Very interesting-
“You’re the muggleborn, right?”
Hermione turned around, a bit of the incredibly delicious wine spilling onto her hand with the force. It was a man, probably late 20’s, also dressed well.
“Uhm, yeah, that’s me…” She floundered for a bit, before making a decision. She had to make an effort if she wanted these people to talk to her. “Hello, I’m Hermione Morgana, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“I’m Robert Abbott, though my maiden name was Ilce. Only got to keep that for three years before marrying, though.”
Wait… he had been in the labour force? He certainly didn’t look like it with the fancy clothes and the pureblood pronunciation. At her confused expression he continued in a low voice, suddenly speaking in the labour force vernacular:
“I normally don’t come to these meetings, but rumour had it you would be here. Your presence has caused quite the ruckus. I just couldn’t sit with myself if I didn’t at least come to check if you were doing alright.” He looked her straight in the eye. “Look, there’s a lot of things going on here, but the most important thing is, that all these people,” Robert waved his hand to signal that he meant all the others in the room, “are here to practice ministry politics for mommy and daddy and the lord of their house. So am I to a degree. They don’t do things because they’re assistants. They do it because they think they cracked the code for creating political intrigue. Took me a while to learn, and I just wanted to tell you.”
Hermione nodded.
“Thank you, it’s all been so overwhelming. I’ll try to keep it in mind.”
Robert looked like he was going to say something more, but he was interrupted by a girl raising her voice.
“Everyonee, Lynette just had such a marvellous idea. We should move this meeting to the Greengrass estate and enjoy our new spring pavilion. We’ll meet in the foyer at Greengrass House.”
Everyone started whispering excitedly and suddenly people were apparating off, one by one. The girl made her way through the crowds, and belatedly Hermione realized she was aiming straight for her.
“You must be Miss Morgana,” she sniffed. Hermione looked around to see that Robert had disappeared and she was alone with the girl and a few last stragglers. The girl looked her up and down with disdain. “I’m Daphne Greengrass, eldest daughter of Lord Greengrass. While I would love to invite you to our manor, I’m afraid we have certain… standards of dress.”
Then, Rhiannon’s voice sounded from behind her.
“Come now Daphne, I’m sure Miss Morgana simply did not know this would become a problem. After all, the invitation was a bit spontaneous, no? Next time, Miss Morgana will arrive more prepared, I’m sure of that.”
Daphne Greengrass got a sour look on her face. “Well, someone will need to apparate her, given that she does not have a wand. I certainly do not trust myself to side-along someone after a glass of wine.”
At this, Daphne shot a pointed look at the empty wine glass in Rhiannon’s hand. Then, she went in for the kill.
“Besides, I find it quite offending that you are asking me to compromise the standards of my ancestral home for a girl you haven’t even introduced me to. I would love to extend the invitation to Miss Morgana another time, but as of now… you surely understand my reservations.” With that she looked at both of them before disapparating too.
Rhiannon turned to her. “Sorry about that. I would have prepared you a bit more, but I guess time just slipped away, you know? And Daphne doesn’t mean it personally, she’s just worried because she doesn’t want Mrs. Ricken to join. Besides, depending on you clearance, I might not have been able to apparate you anyways. Most of us here just use our family visiting privileges. What does Madame Black’s assistants get?”
“10C, 11G addendum...” Hermione hadn’t even known it was possible to apparate into the ministry but was distracted from her musings by Rhiannon’s shocked look.
“What? Ha, and Daphne keeps bragging about her 8D with 8G addendum. That’ll show them. Next time is the same place, just make sure to wear something… nicer.”
With that Rhiannon had disapparated too and Hermione was left alone in a meeting room on a floor she barely knew. She could feel the tears welling up, but pushed them down. She couldn’t cry, not here, not now. All her friends were likely back at the labour force housing and her apartment was empty. It was with dawning horror that she realised that she had no one to go to. Only herself. She walked quickly down to the elevators again, trying to make it home before her entire face was red, puffy, and filled with tears. If anyone had been observing her, she wouldn’t have noticed. Not that anyone would have noticed this person in particular.
When Mary did not want to be seen, she simply was not. So, she was not seen making her way around the fifth floor trying to figure out who exactly was behind a particularly moronic movement for a new bill. That was the problems with building your empire on pureblood support, you always had to stop their less useful ideas, instead of them realising the idiocy themselves.
Luckily the whole ordeal was quickly sorted by planting some compromising pictures in inconspicuous places (her husband’s drawer, not her fault the idiot woman was having an affair). On her way back to the arcadian peace of her office, she walked past the open door leading to the little assistants’ club. Mary had always found it amusing, like children playing pretend. Her momentary interest would have waned had she not spotted Hermione Morgana caught in some crossfire between a Greengrass and a Shafiq. Oh, she did have to ensure the girl had gotten her wand holster as well.
Mary did feel a bit sorry for the girl, Daphne Greengrass could be quite vicious if she so desired. And she often did. Rhiannon Shafiq on the other hand had a deeply rooted hatred of Daphne Greengrass, something about a birthday part in fifth year. Miss Morgana’s expression brought her back to when she had been a young muggleborn (or so she had thought) in a room full of purebloods. Yes, there were few things as infuriating as purebloods thinking they could use you as their little playing pawn, and Miss Morgana seemed to think the same, if her reaction when they had left were to trust.
After she had ensured the girl’s possession of a wand holster, and an adequately nice one too, she went back to her office. She couldn’t help but be a bit annoyed though. Miss Morgana’s lack of a wand had caused her to observe inefficiency and trouble twice now. Mary hated inefficiency. Why did people insist on being so troublesome?
Notes:
I’m trying my best to make them seem believably brainwashed without it being annoying. Realistically none of them would have turned out this way from growing up like they did, but like… we also need a story here.
I’m returning to school soon, but I hope I can keep up with posting every Monday. We’ll see what the IBO has planned for me :,)
Mary: Gee, this girl is struggling because she doesn’t have the same privileges as the aristocrats in the country I’m supreme ruler of. Guess we’ll just have to wait and see what happens to her in the country I’m supreme ruler of, maybe she will succeed. Nothing to do but wait and see. She so like me fr.
More consistent interactions between Hermione and Mary coming in the next chapter or two :) (completely normal interaction between two completely normal lesbians who will be very normal about their feelings)
Chapter 6: In which clothes are of way too much importance
Notes:
Forgot to mention this last chapter, but there's different dialects in here, which I will reference sometimes. I just don't have the knowhow or skill to actually write them.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
May 1st, 1999
Still reeling from her encounter with the other assistants, Hermione worked in a daze until lunch. She had formed a plan in her head, there hadn’t been much else to do while she had tossed and turned in her bed, playing out the embarrassing encounter in her head again and again. With previous embarrassments at the ministry it had often been with superiors, such as Madame Black or the Empress. It made it easier that they were supposed to be better than her. The other assistants, though, they were meant to be somewhat like her. Yet they weren’t at all.
At lunch, Hermione went down to the basement to speak with Lavender, only to hear that she was visiting Ron. With that she went all the way up again and found the two in the auror trainee break room. She avoided reflection on what exactly they had been doing before she entered, there were reasonable explanations for their state of appearance, surely.
“Oh, hello Hermione. Do you need anything for your job?” Lavender asked, a bit flushed, but her ever curious self.
“No, not exactly, Madame Black doesn’t interact much with the aurors themselves, and barely the trainees. However, I would like your help with something…” she paused, wondering how to phrase it. “I would like to buy some new clothes.”
That was definitely the wrong phrasing, considering Yule lights inside Lavender’s eyes. She clapped her hands.
“I’ve been waiting for you to ask! When do you get off today, oh, we should bring my sister… what’s the budget, and we need to look in your current wardrobe. Though I do have quite a good idea of your clothes-“
And that was how Hermione ended up in front of Gringotts after Lavender and her sister had made a thorough evaluation of her closet. The whole thing about Lavender having a sister was a bit strange as she was technically not allowed to contact her family. Lavender had waved her off and said that no one cared, but Hermione couldn’t help but wonder at the legality of it all. “If anyone asks, I simply met her by coincidence, and we don’t know we’re sisters.” Poppy Brown was a few years older than Lavender and had thus been too old to be placed in the educational centres when Lavender’s parents were executed. Instead, she had gone off to live with her grandparents while Lavender was sent away.
While the two had gone through her every piece of clothing, Hermione had withdrawn 40 galleons from the bank. The money felt heavy in its little pouch, not only due to its mass, but also the fact that she could lose it. That she was going to spend 40 galleons. Not just on clothes, two were for the sick box, and eight were for personal care or groceries. But even eight galleons was more money than she had ever had between her hands.
They started walking to Poppy’s recommended shops, getting the groceries out of the way first. On their way there, they passed by Ollivander’s. The magic gathered in the place was wafting through the street, and she could feel herself get drawn there. She wouldn’t get much farther than the window though, as you needed a wand permit to even enter the shop. It didn’t do have the muggleborns trying out wands to get a little hit of magic, or so she had heard.
Shopping, it turned out, was exhausting. And then when it was over and you were ready to sleep, you had to unpack. Tea, coffee, and a few quick dinners with preservation charms went in the kitchen. All her new hair and face things went in the bathroom, neatly organized in the mirror cabinet or the little shelf in the shower. It gave her an ambivalent sense of happiness, looking at all her new things. She was very happy and grateful for them, but at the same time it felt like some sort of betrayal, having them. Lavender hadn’t seemed jealous, but Hermione had started to suspect that her family was supporting her financially. Or maybe she had simply saved up the five galleons she spent during the shopping trip.
Lastly came the clothes. She had felt like Poppy and Lavender’s dress up doll inside the store, getting fabrics and clothes thrown at her like she was the target in a weird fashion game. In the end she had a new pair of shoes, three pairs of tights, and a lot of clothing she would pick up tomorrow, as Madame Malkin’s had to sew it first. It totalled, one pair of trousers, two cardigans, three dresses, four skirts, and five shirts. It was an obscene amount of clothing, yet Poppy had said it was normal for people who worked at the ministry to have five times as many clothes as this. Hermione had refused to get a new coat as the one she had worked perfectly fine, and she wasn’t outside much anyways. At the end of the day, the two sisters had told her to contact her again in the fall when she would need new clothes. Because apparently it was expected that she follow the fashions, which changed every few months.
According to Poppy, most of her new clothes were nice, but not on the level the purebloods had. What was different though, was that they aligned with the current trends. Hermione still couldn’t help but worry that it wouldn’t be enough.
May 13th,1999
It was with trepidation that Hermione entered the meeting room again. She walked there herself this time, not wanting to look awkward standing alone in the elevator hall. She would just arrive alone, which was slightly less awkward. Immediately upon entry, Rhiannon came up to her.
“Hermione! Good to see you, your new dress is simply adorable! Have you met Paul yet? He’s an assistant on the maintenance floor, absolutely delightful.”
Rhiannon was talking like they were old friends, walking around, introducing her to everyone. She felt like a show animal being paraded about the arena. Was it really the clothes that did all of this? All of the people here still knew about Hermione and her dirty blood, she was certain. The way their eyes would linger on her, trying not to obviously stare. It felt like bugs crawling over her skin. Somehow, last time had been better. At least she got to have some wine and look at the artwork. Now she had to answer the same three questions again and again.
“How did all of this come about?”
“Don’t you find the transition to more civilized life difficult? I certainly would.”
And: “What’s your security clearance?”
Security clearance, it turned out, was a valuta of its own at these functions. And Hermione had the highest in the room, even without telling anyone about her testing probe. She wondered what they wanted it for, she just used it to read letters and write reports. A boy who clearly hadn’t realised that you weren’t supposed to tell anyone why you wanted higher security clearance let it slip:
“Goodness, the things I could look through with that security clearance.” He said before getting a look from another assistant.
“Is there no oversight with what files you retrieve?” Hermione asked. There had to be, right?
“It’s complicated,” Rhiannon said. “You can’t just waltz in and ask for the intelligence reports. But if you’re getting something similar or can explain a vague connection, the filing staff doesn’t care enough to check. I once got someone’s school records when I was supposed to write a report about their grandmother’s unit at St. Mungo’s.”
She laughed at this, but Hermione felt uncomfortable. If someone could retrieve a Hogwarts student’s record with such a weak excuse, what protections did she have?
The whole soiree thing was rather boring. Rhiannon was pulling her around the entire time, dropping weird comments about introducing new people to the club, and making sure to always mention Hermione’s security clearance. It was still a bit uncertain what her goal what, but she certainly wasn’t being as discrete about it as she thought. Other than Rhiannon’s not-so-secret secret plans, most of the talk was about next month's summer solstice ball. And what people were going to wear, because of course it was.
“It’s such an annoyance that my department colour is brown. Honestly, why?” Rhiannon complained.
“Department colour?” Hermione asked.
“Yeah, every department has a colour they must wear to the ball. And your guests if you have any. Then there’s the subdepartment signifiers you also have to wear. You’re lucky that your floor has red. Certain shades are only for the aurors, but you have a lot of freedom when you work for the department head, you just have to wear the colour. My cousin works for the department of labour, and her specific unit has one shade of yellow they can wear, and their robes must have ruffles on them. There’s so many requirements and creating an outfit that actually makes you look good is nightmare.”
Rhiannon was clearly passionate about the topic, but Hermione had trouble caring about it. She doubted she was going to the ball, those dresses sounded expensive, and she didn’t know anyone there. The labour force wasn’t allowed to attend anything but the preparations. Hermione found it appropriate to excuse herself and go home after the fifth person had told her about their department specific dress code and bragged about their security clearance and how much they could cheat out of the archival staff.
“I hope you will attend next time too,” Rhiannon smiled at her, and it was a really pretty smile. “Things are changing around here, and I believe you could be a part of it.”
No thank you. Was what Hermione wanted to say, but the combination of Rhiannon’s pretty smile, and the promise of more delicious canapés and wine… She needed connections up here anyways, right?
May 31st, 1999
Hermione’s life was incredibly busy, busier than it had ever been before. While she hadn’t bought anything for learning potions due to the emergency wardrobe upgrade, she doubted she would have had the energy for it. However, things were looking up. She was getting used to the routine and was now able to do more than simply eat, shower and fall asleep when she got home. The fact that she couldn’t visit her friends outside of work also freed up a lot of time she would have liked to spend with them. She was determined to start learning potions tomorrow, right after she had bought all the things she needed.
That Tuesday morning, coincidentally three weeks from the summer solstice ball, a man burst into the office, heading straight for Madame Black’s door. He had dark slightly curled hair and grey eyes. He was wearing casual clothes and had a tattoo peeking out from under his shirt. The man looked menacing, but when he saw her, he stopped and smiled. The smile radiated happy and calm – it came from someone who seemed to have no doubt their request would be granted.
“Hello there, you seem to be a new face. What happened to the other girl Ylaine, no, Yvaine… no, that’s not it either-“
“Her name is Yvonne, and I am her interim replacement while she is away on maternity leave. Would you like to book an appointment with Madame Black?” She tried the professional tone of voice she had practiced over the last two months, but he seemed entirely unaffected.
“No, I would like to talk to her now,” he said firmly but still assured he would succeed. It was provoking, the way so many people, especially men, walked in here thinking they could disturb the head of the DMLE. Like they had any authority over her. Madame Black had a lot of things to do, and it was Hermione’s job to make sure she got them done, preferably without disturbances from random men.
“I’m afraid she’s busy. I can make a ten-minute appointment at four if that suits you. What’s the meeting about and what’s your name? If you need more time, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait for Thursday.” She smiled at him, and he smiled back, clearly finding something very amusing.
“And I’m afraid I will have to demand that you let me in right now as the Lord of her house. Quite a good show you put on at the council meeting by the way.” Hermione gaped and felt her whole face hear up. “Don’t worry about this whole thing,” he said at her reaction. “I like having fun with the fact I don’t exactly look like a lord. But I really do need to talk to my cousin about the fact that she still hasn’t told me how many people her department are sending to the gala. Does she think three weeks is enough time? Does any of my relatives think three weeks is enough time? Reggie and Bella also haven’t responded, why is it that Cissy’s idiot of a husband is the only one who can RSVP with grace? I trust you will formulate that into a more appropriate request when you show me in.” He gave her a wink and took a seat on the couch.
Hermione knocked on the door and entered at the customary “Enter.”
“Madame Black, Lord Black is here to see you about the department’s participation at the Litha Gala. He informs you that the department of defence has not yet done so either, but Lord Malfoy’s department has done so with grace. Do you wish to see him?” The last question was a moot point as Lord Black had already sauntered in and slung himself elegantly onto the chair.
“Hello Andy, thank you Miss…” he gave up on remembering a name he couldn’t even remember not being told. “Excellent summary of my request, you clearly know your department heads. Anyways, I can see there’s at least two attendees, but as I do suspect there to be quite a few more working in this monstrosity of bureaucracy, I will be needing a more precise number by Friday, thank you.” With that he was gone again, leaving a Madame Black who looked like she was used to this.
“Do you know the dress code for the galas? Otherwise, Yvonne would be happy to help you, I am sure.”
“Oh, I uhmm… wasn’t planning to attend the gala Madame Black.” Her boss looked confused at this.
“Do you have plans on the 21st?” She asked Hermione.
“No ma’am. But I’m not sure what I would do there.”
Madame Black seemed to realise Hermione had never attended one before. “It is not simply a gala, you must understand. It is the biggest networking event for the whole ministry. Everyone attends, or at least everyone who holds their position at the ministry dear. I need you there, both to catch any rumours you may hear among the younger people, but also to secure my place in conversations. You will participate in a conversation, and when I am finished with the one I am holding, I will take your place, and you will go to the next one.” At Hermione’s scared look, she tried to calm her down. “It’s incredibly simple, it will become obvious when you are there. For now, could you please retrieve these files from the main archive for me,” Madame Black handed her a list, and Hermione went off to do as commanded, all while quietly freaking out about what sounded like the soirees on steroids.
In the elevator, she overheard two men discuss whether periwinkle would be too light to signal their status as unit leaders, or if they could get away with it. Then in line at the archive’s desk, a woman was practicing colouring charms on a piece of cream fabric, trying to lighten its colour. It seemed the whole ministry had gone into collective psychosis over the ball. The line was rumoured to always be the longest in the ministry, though Hermione had luckily avoided it so far. Ten clerks sat at a long desk, retrieving all the requested ministry files, as no one was allowed into the main archive unattended. So, while waiting, Hermione had ample time to listen to even more people going crazy over the ball.
“There’s always shellfish for the second course at the summer balls, do you think I can get away with not eating it? I really don’t want to go to St. Mungo’s again this year.”
“I have to wear stripes for the ball, but there’s really no cut that suits stripes for me. These knockers aren’t exactly a Euclidean plane, you know.”
“It’s so sad I didn’t get my promotion before the ball, I could have worn this gorgeous deep marine fabric I found, but now I have to wear baby blue again.”
When it was finally her turn, she handed over the list to the clerk.
“Wand please.” The clerk said without looking up. Hermione handed over the testing probe.
“This isn’t a wand ma’am.” Fuck. But maybe he just didn’t know about the testing probes.
“It should work the same for your purpose, it has the appropriate security clearance.”
“I need your wand to verify your identity. With that thing you could just claim to be anyone who has a testing probe.”
It seemed data security was a thing, just not for the purebloods. So, she had to play their game.
“Madame Black said this should suffice. I would hate to get her involved by delaying her papers. She is very… passionate about her right to an efficient processing.”
The clerk looked ready to stab himself with the testing probe.
“Ma’am trust me, if I could just let you through I would. But this whole system magically cannot retrieve the papers you want without a wand. And a testing probe is not a wand. Please return with your wand if you would be so kind.”
Then an eerily familiar voice sounded behind her.
“The testing probe should indeed work. I should know, given I designed the system myself.”
With that, the Empress walked past the desk and into the archives, ignoring all instructions to the opposite. Not that Hermione could imagine her waiting in line with the rest of them. Actually, she struggled to imagine a reason the Empress would have to retrieve any documents on her own. She did have a whole floor at her beck and call.
The clerk had turned white, and Hermione was worried he would pass out, but at least he didn’t before she had gotten all the documents she needed. Why hadn’t he wanted to process the testing probe? Did he know about her background? It was starting to feel like the whole ministry knew they had an imposter among them.
June 21st, 1999
The day had arrived, Hermione had spent 25 galleons on second-hand dress robes at Yvonne’s instructions, and now she was strategizing with Madame Black in her private office. Lisha was a public holiday, but for Hermione it was to be spent going over who she had to speak with, how she should get them into conversation, and who she definitely shouldn’t speak with. There were apparently quite a few people who refused to let you go once you started talking.
“Her Majesty and Lucius Malfoy will be too difficult for you to get close to. I will take care of them. I expect we shall be done around 11 PM, after that you may do as you please. Do not leave before the Empress and do not stay later than 2 AM.”
Hermione doubted that would be a problem, she just hoped the Empress was the type to leave parties early. With that, they said their goodbyes at half past four to go change before the ball started.
Her dress robes were the most beautiful thing she had ever owned. According to Yvonne the dress robes could cost upwards of 200 galleons, with the Sacred 28 often spending even more than that. Additionally, they were difficult to find second-hand as every unit had different rules, and they were typically tailor made. If Hermione had had to buy them from new, she couldn’t have gotten anything below 50 galleons. Instead, she was lucky enough to find something in the right colour for 15 galleons and then pay 10 to have it tailored. 15 galleons for a dress would have been out of the question just three months ago, and it still felt wrong to use that much money. But a rule was a rule, even though this one was incredibly unfair.
The set consisted of a poppy red underdress in a light fabric, with a darker red overrobe that closed down the chest before opening up to reveal the underdress. The ensemble was light and airy, perfect for a warm summer evening. She had started growing her hair longer, and it now hung a bit below her shoulders, yet it was much more manageable than when she had used the ministry issued shampoo. She had even purchased a bit of makeup and convinced Lavender to teach her. In the dim light of her bedroom, Hermione felt like the prettiest girl in the world.
She flooed back to the atrium, and it was transformed. The floos themselves had been separated from the rest of the room. The front of the ministry building had opened up, allowing the warm breeze and smell of flowers to flow in. On the atrium floor, large round tables had been placed, seating 15 people each, except for the high table which seated 55. 28 lords and their partners, as well as her Majesty. The whole room was lit in a golden light, and as people were coming through the fireplaces they slowed to admire the decorations. As the floos started to clog, a magically loudened voice sounded.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please proceed to the security desk where you will be assigned your seat for the dinner, as well as your corsage if you intend to dance tonight. You must be seated at six thirty, as I, Lord Black, will give an introduction before welcoming her Majesty, Empress Voldemort of Britannia to open the ball.”
Hermione couldn’t spot Lord Black anywhere, but Madame Black found her in the throng of people surprisingly quickly. They made their way along as instructed and were given a name card which started floating in direction of their seat. Hermione had expected them to be seated near each other, but Madame Black’s card flew in direction of the head table.
“I will be sitting with Lord Black. As we are both unmarried and I would be the only one of my sisters without a seat at the table, we thought it best for the house. Though looking at your table number you might be sitting with his younger brother.”
The Blacks were truly an accomplished house. Despite being reduced to only five of them in the latest generation, they had all made a name for themselves. Three were department heads, with Lady Lestrange and Regulus Black heading the department of defence together. Lady Lestrange commanded the army and Mr. Black oversaw the intelligence services. Lady Malfoy managed the most successful education centres in the country, and Lord Black was not only the lord, but he also planned all the ministry galas.
Despite their individual successes, it seemed they had no plans of combatting the relatively small size of their house. Lady Malfoy’s one son would be a Mafloy, and apart from her, only Regulus Black had children. The fact that he had any was all that was known, and despite the firm stance from the house that Mr. Black was married with children, no one had ever seen any of them
Hermione didn’t end up sitting at the same table as Regulus Black, instead the most important person there was Barty Crouch Jr., the Empress’ office manager. In general, it seemed to be a table filled with people who managed offices of varying sizes. Hermione wondered why she had been placed here, but she supposed she managed Madame Black’s front office in a way.
Her musings were interrupted by Lord Black clinking on his glass and standing up from his seat, Madame Black being placed across from him. The seat next to him was empty, but it was obvious the chair was meant for the Empress.
“Welcome all to this joyous evening. I would ask you all to welcome our gracious and magnanimous host, her Majesty, Empress Voldemort of Britannia.”
Everyone got up from their seats and faced in the direction of the chair, Hermione copying the others at her table. The high table was placed parallel to the arches opening up to the outside, and she wondered where the Empress would come from. There was a mezzanine around the atrium with grand stairs leading up there from various places, but the Empress simply walking down stairs would have felt… underwhelming. Hermione was proven correct, as a cloud of absolute nightlike darkness appeared suddenly, and formed itself into the Empress. Her dress was dark like the cloud, but with little silver sparkles placed on it. She wore a silver tiara decorated with large black stones. Even from this distance, the stones looked impossibly deep, like they contained a cosmos of their own. Hermione stared, enraptured, and the Empress started speaking.
“Welcome, to the happy celebration of tonight. The lightest day of the year, yet we celebrate most of it in the darkness of night.” This got a chuckle from the audience, and a fleeting look of satisfaction appeared on the Empress’ face. “While I shall attempt to keep my speech short, like a mother sending her children away to Hogwarts, I nonetheless have a few things I wish to impart on you, just like she has. Litha is the lightest day of the year, and we celebrate it to appreciate that there will be another dark year before it returns. However, we never doubt that next year, we shall have a Litha again. That we will celebrate with each other again, indulging in these wonderful traditions we share. As Empress, I ensure that no worries like those may infect your thoughts, that you are allowed to live your days in the sun with delight. But I so deeply wish that I may give you every day with as much sun as today. That I could let us celebrate this day of daylight, in the daylight that the world offers. That we were not held back and prevented from this due to concerns of safety. My strongest wish is still, and will always be, that you may spend every day in the sun. But here at the end, I simply wish to impart on you this: be grateful for your days in the sun. Be grateful that you were blessed by its presence, and that you were allowed much more of it than some were.”
With that, she sat down to great applause. Hermione took her words to heart, she was allowed here, upstairs, while her friends were all banished downstairs. That was probably not what the Empress had meant, but it made sense for Hermione nonetheless. She felt that she held her own pretty well in the conversations, especially with her dinner partner, an older lady wearing black robes with a strange purple shimmer.
“I’m Ursula Pithe, head of the Mapping Office. Though its really more of a formal title, we’re only three people.” She had kind eyes and a wrinkled face.
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’m Hermione Morgana, assistant to Madame Black. I suppose I do manage her front office, but only insofar as I manage myself. I’ve never heard of the Mapping office before, what do you do?”
Mrs. Pithe laughed at her joke before explaining. “Well firstly, we keep track of the map of Britannia and assist her Majesty with any of her cartography needs. Secondly… well I’m afraid that’s classified.”
“How classified?” Hermione asked, hoping she had the clearance.
“12,” Ursula answered, a smile playing at her mouth. 12 was only for matters of utmost national security and only assigned to a few people in the Empress’ Office and the defence department. Hermione hadn’t met anyone with it, except the Empress and then herself in a way. “but I was informed that everyone at this table had at least 12A in clearance. So I shan’t ask questions about how you have higher clearance than Madame Black. Our team primarily works with uncovering hidden land. You know that land can be made unplotable, invisible and otherwise disappear from normal maps, yes? Our job is to find it again and determine if it’s been abandoned and therefore belongs to the crown, or if any unregistered citizens are living there. I’m an archaeologist, so I primarily work with documenting the abandoned sites we find.”
Hermione was sure the food was delicious, but she was so caught up in Mrs. Pithe’s talk about her job as well as making sure to network and introduce herself to all the, apparently very important, people she was sitting with. She wondered at the mistake in the seating, but maybe it was because of her testing probe. The things she heard were too interesting to care right now. Who knew there were a huge amount of secret talks between Britannia and Russia?
After the dinner, the tables disappeared and left a few taller cocktail tables as well as a large dance floor. Hermione had opted out of dancing as she barely remembered how to and wouldn’t have time. Instead, she ran around securing conversations for Madame Black. Luckily, Mr. Crouch had told her to keep her name card and shown her the name card wall. All she had to do was find the name she wanted, and her name card would take her there.
“Us assistants gotta stick together. I’ve got a fancy title, but I’m really just a glorified assistant.”
With that he was gone, but Hermione was saved much trouble because of him. The wall was arranged by position, so it also allowed her to track down assistants instead of waiting for their boss to be free. Before she began on the night’s task, she took a moment and looked around the atrium. It was marvellously decorated with flowers and floating lights, and a string quartet was playing in a corner. She had never felt so pretty, she had never eaten so delicious food, she had never talked to so many important people, she had never been to such a large party, she had never been to anything like it. And one day you never will again. No. She wouldn’t let this moment be clouded. It was what it was. She couldn't go around getting all sentimental. The world was what it was.
While Hermione had been distracted, Lord Black had snuck up behind her:
“Did you like your seating? Personally, I would have been bored out of my mind, but you seem the type of person to enjoy boring bureaucrats. Just try not to become on yourself.”
She turned, surprised. Had he…? Lord Black winked at her, before disappearing into the crowd. Why? Did she owe him now? She was racking up debts quickly. Ron, Yvonne, Lady Malfoy, Madame Black, Lord Black, Poppy, even the Empress. She tried to shake it from her head. She couldn’t do anything about it tonight. What she could do was her job.
And do her job she did. It took a while to get used to, having conversations just to keep people entertained until Madame Black could come along. Then suddenly, she would be there, and Hermione was off to find the next person, or their assistant if she was lucky. At some point during the night, she had to secure the head of Magical Culture. Hermione thought briefly about talking to Daphne Greengrass. She was already acquainted with her, and Daphne was the niece of the Timothy Greengrass. But… she had apparently been tasked with talking to the Empress. Hermione was glad she didn’t have to do that. Daphne was standing at the edge of the circle surrounding the Empress, clearly trying to get her attention. However, her majesty was talking to some people from the defence department and wasn’t even looking at where Daphne was.
Instead, she found Robert Abbott. He didn’t look what one could call happy to be here, sipping from a champagne flute. Hermione couldn’t imagine she would ever not be happy to be at a ministry gala. That she wouldn’t appreciate the opportunity to be here. But she shouldn’t judge Robert, perhaps he was just having a bad day.
“Hi Mr. Abbott, is the champagne any good?”
He looked up at her and grabbed a flute from a server walking past with a full tray.
“Please call me Robert. But yeah, you should try it. About the only good thing here,” he mumbled morosely. “So how’s the whole lot treating you?”
“Fine,” she shrugged. “Getting new clothes helped, though Miss Greengrass still seems to think I’m…” she trailed off, not wanting to insult his colleague.
“The scum of the Earth? She does that. There are those who will see new clothes and pretend to forget that you’ve come from a life downstairs. And then there’s Daphne Greengrass. She doesn’t exactly make any room more tolerable to be in. Even my wife, who is an absolute angel, can’t stand her.” He discretely pointed to Daphne who was still standing at the edge of the Empress’ circle of admirers. “She’s supposed to be working like you and me, but like usual, she just does what she wants. Its not like her uncle could do anything if he wanted. Not that he does. Her brother at least pretended to care about the job. But Daphne? She seems to think that if she stares at the Empress long enough, her Majesty will just throw a prestigious ministry position at her. Or perhaps a prestigious marriage, I can’t quite figure out which one.” He shook his head. “Sorry for ranting to you. I just don’t like these parties where we all have to pretend they wouldn’t have spat on me for the first 25 years of my life. And having to work double doesn’t exactly make it better.”
Hermione took a sip of her champagne while humming thoughtfully.
“That sucks, guess the only thing I can do is to say I don’t disagree with anything you said. But I try to be appreciative of the fact that I get to be here. All my friends don’t, you know?”
At half past ten, Hermione had completed all of her tasks for Madame Black and only had to wait for her Majesty to leave. While she liked being here, it was awkward when she didn’t have anything to do except stand around looking for someone she knew. She was unexpectedly saved from awkward floundering by Ron Weasley’s brother. It was obvious that Percy was related to Ron, but she needn’t have worried, as he had clearly planned the introduction.
“Percy Weasley,” he stuck his hand out and she shook it. “I’m Ron’s older brother. I heard you know Lavender?”
“Yes, she was my unit leader in the labour force.”
“Really? I’ll admit I don’t exactly see her as the leader type, if you understand. Nothing bad about that, of course, just unexpected. But good for her. Look, I just wanted to tell you, that I heard about your interruption of the meetin-“
Hermione toned him out as she had spotted the Empress making moves of leaving. The conversation was obviously going to be a long and boring one, so she decided to make her excuses quickly. She nodded at Percy:
“Thank you very much, it was nothing really. But I’m afraid I’ll have to make my excuses, I’m very tired.”
Hermione then left as quickly as she could, determined not to get pulled back in by some “extra comment” or two. She could see it in his eyes; the bureaucrat’s desire of networking through inane conversation. It was a look she had become too familiar with. She hoped she would never reach that point.
The Empress was leaving through the floos it seemed, heading towards the separate room. Hermione wondered if she should wait a bit to give her privacy when leaving, but as she saw a waiter enter too, she assumed it was allowed. And she could see Percy Weasley heading her way, so that decided it. The Empress was about ten steps in front of her, her heels echoing across the hall. The waiter was between them, neither turned around at Hermione entering. Suddenly the waiter said a spell Hermione didn’t know and grates shot down in front of the floos, with the doors closing behind her back.
The man started on another spell, only getting “stu-“ out before the Empress had turned around and in one sharp stroke of her wand, the man was on the floor covered in glowing ropes. She stalked closer to him, Hermione standing at the doors, frozen in place.
“So. You thought you could surprise me. I will admit that getting the security password is a both novel and impressive strategy. But a bad one, clearly. Now tell me, why?”
The man was barely able to move his head, but he managed to shake it.
“Oh, you refuse? I shall assume you’re a terrorist then. And terrorists receive summary execution. Perhaps I shall simply carry the sentence out now and save everyone the trouble, no?”
The Empress was standing directly over his face now, her eyes much redder than when she had seen her on previous occasions. They were even more striking than before, and Hermione let out a soft gasp at seeing the change. This alerted the Empress to her presence, which she seemingly hadn’t noticed until now.
“You. Are you part of this ploy too?”
There was a flinty quality in the Empress’ voice that hadn’t been there before. One that made Hermione painfully aware she had just threatened to kill the man before her. She bowed her head deeply.
“No your Majesty. I… I just wanted to go home.”
The Empress looked sceptical, but was distracted when the man spoke up.
“Leave the girl out of it. She has nothing to do with my actions.”
A glimmer of intrigue entered her eyes, which were still a dark red.
“Oh really. And if Miss Morgana has nothing to do with your crimes, then who does? The terrorists? Or perhaps MACUSA? Both groups receive the same fate. But we already discussed that.”
Then, the grates lifted, and the doors opened with aurors storming in, wands at the ready. Three of them immediately surrounded the Empress, who in Hermione’s opinion looked quite annoyed at the intrusion.
Ron Weasley was there too, and he ran up to her.
“Hermione, that’s your name, right? What’s going on?”
“The man tried to-“ She started to explain, but was cut off by the Empress.
“Ladies, gentlemen, do not worry yourselves. Miss Morgana and I are perfectly fine despite this intruder’s attempt at ensuring otherwise. Now, who here can ensure that this..” she shot a derisive look at the man on the floor. “man… is placed in the cells appropriate for attempted high treason?”
Two aurors immediately stepped forward and carried the man away, three more following after. Of the five remaining, one more turned to Hermione pulling out a notepad and a quill, while three were still standing protectively around the Empress.
“Miss Morgana,” he said, “I will need to take your statement. To get the details fresh from your memory, you see. Now, could you please state your name and purpose here tonight?”
Hermione could suddenly see herself caught up here for at least another hour, answering inane questions about the ball. And with the way the man had uttered the words “Miss Morgana”, she wasn’t exactly likely to find any sympathy from him.
“Robards, you can take her statement tomorrow. I believe there are bigger fish to fry tonight, no?”
The man looked conflicted, and Ron looked like he was in way over his head. Eventually, Robards nodded to the Empress and avoided looking at Hermione.
“Auror Trainee Weasley, please escort Miss Morgana home. And pick her up tomorrow so we may take her statement.”
“There will be no need for that, will there, Miss Morgana?” The Empress was looking straight at her, eyes still more red than brown.
Hermione curtseyed deeply before answering, “Of course not, your Majesty. I will report to the Auror department immediately tomorrow morning.”
“Auror Trainee Weasley will take your statement at seven then.”
Robards bowed to the Empress, Ron copying him before both left. The Empress then shooed the other Aurors away before disapparating in a cloud the same way she had appeared. Hermione hurried to the floos before more dramatics disturbed her sleep.
Notes:
What’s the mapping office? That certainly won’t play a major role later, dw guys. Nor will that Russia thing:)))
Is this me dreaming about a pre-fast fashion world? Where everything was of relatively good quality? Indeed.
Also, you have the right to privacy from people snooping in your data! Fuck meta and google and other people who think it’s okay to go stick their nose into your business.
GDPR, another thing that would murder this fictional society. (And many real-life ones too)My goal is for next chapter being the wand chapter. Now I've said it, so I have to write it
Chapter 7: In which we look into a disturbed mind
Notes:
Just a heads up that there will basically be a torture scene in here. Its psychological torture, so no gore, but anything inspired by the Stasi deserves a big label of TORTURE. Is the disturbed mind mine or Mary’s? (Spoiler: it’s both)
Also, there’s brief mention of an off-screen sexual assault. Britannia is indeed a shithole.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
June 22nd, 1999
When Hermione showed up at the reception in the Auror department, Ron wasn’t there. She was beginning to wonder if she should go look for him, or perhaps there was a secret protocol for this she was supposed to know. How to give your statement about the attempted assassination of your Empress, a brief guide. He strolled in at 7:07, looking surprised at her presence.
“Why are you here?”
“Because I was told to be yesterday?” She asked, unsure if she had missed something.
“Sorry, I meant why are you here already? Robards only shows up at nine.”
Hermione blinked at him. “He made both of us come in two hours before he even needed my statement?”
Ron shook his head. “Nah, I doubt he’ll have anything to do with the case. But the people who do need it won’t look at it until ten. They’ve probably been up all night trying to get anything out of the bastard. Met another trainee in the atrium, he says the guy won’t talk.”
She nodded, mildly enraged at Robards. What did the guy do that for? She knew he was probably a busy person, but that didn’t exactly qualify this behaviour. “Can we do this quickly? I’d like to have everything about the case ready when Madame Black comes in.”
Ron was even more efficient at paperwork than Hermione, and she liked to think she had gained quite the touch during her time at the ministry. She was done with the whole ordeal soon, and by half past nine, when she had briefed Madame Black, she was back to her usual routine. Until the Empress entered her office, looking as immaculate as always. Her eyes were back to their reddish-brown hue and they were staring directly at Hermione.
“You will brief me like you have certainly just briefed Madame Black.”
And Hermione did as she was ordered, reciting the notes she had just read to Madame Black.
“Detained is Graham Merlin but goes by the name Graham Peterson. 36 years old. Both parents were members of the agricultural labour force, he had a brother Tristan Merlin, also goes by Tristan Peterson. The brothers lived together in Knockturn Alley working as cleaners at a bar until recently. They were close to being able to apply for citizenship. Tristan Merlin was arrested three weeks ago on suspicion of sexually assaulting Persephone Burke. He claims innocence and Graham Merlin has provided an alibi. Since then, Graham has changed jobs to become a server with the company serving at the galas. How he obtained the job as well as the security passwords is still unknown. Detained has refused to speak so far.”
Her Majesty nodded thoughtfully.
“Have the brother moved into the cell next to the attempted assassin. I will interrogate him personally.”
With that, she left, and Hermione wondered exactly how she was supposed to have a prisoner moved.
Mary wasn’t happy that the man had attempted murder, of course not. That was an absurd notion. She was simply keenly interested in how he got so far in his plans. And if it was really murder, he had been planning. If she happened to gain some personal enjoyment from figuring that out, well… that was simply due to the moral satisfaction of bringing justice to her country.
When she entered the cell of Graham Merlin, he was curled up in a corner of the barren room, wearing nothing but a pair of trousers. When she had designed the ministry holding cells, she had created three types depending on the severity of the crime committed. Low-risk, medium-risk, and high-risk. Graham was, of course, in the high-risk barren stone cell that was just a bit too hot. As one deserved for high treason.
He didn’t look up when she entered, but that didn’t matter. He would pay attention soon enough.
“Put your clothes back on.” She had no desire to see his bare chest or feet. Why did men always force their bodies upon everyone?
He didn’t react, only the slight tensing in his shoulders let her know he’d even heard her.
“I command you to do it.”
The desire to simply make him do it was strong and heady. Such was the perils of practicing the dark arts. But Mary didn’t succumb to it. She took pride in her ability to complete interrogations without the need for such things as brute force. No, she had elegance. A feminine touch.
Instead, she wandlessly conjured two seemingly identical chairs. Of course, hers was slightly larger, taller, and didn’t have one leg that was a bit too short. She seated herself and began to talk.
“It seems you refuse my commands as your Empress. Not a surprise, really, given your assassination attempt yesterday. I don’t know why I expected you to respect my authority when you clearly attempted to end my ability to ever exercise it again. But let us have a talk then. Why did you do it?”
Still no reaction, but she could see he was listening.
“Would you like some water?”
At this, he rolled around and finally looked at her. There was no respect in his gaze. None of the usual adoration or even impression. There was still fear. Mary could not remember the last time she had looked at someone without them looking back with fear.
Perhaps no one had ever done that.
She conjured a glass of water and levitated it onto the other chair, still without her wand. Graham stared at it for a while, calculating his options. Finally, he got up from the floor and trotted over. However, when he attempted to pick up the glass, it was stuck. He looked at her accusingly, still holding onto the glass which was firmly connected with the chair.
“Only civilized people drink in civilized ways. Either you put your clothes on, or you find another way to drink. Or you could, of course, abstain. I don’t particularly care.”
She could practically see him imagining how to drink, and the moment he realised he would have to kneel and drink like nothing more than a dirty mutt. She stared at him expectantly. Hopefully none of the guards had given him anything since his little incident last night. Though if they followed her interrogation protocols they shouldn’t have. Graham went back to his corner, but only to pick up the clothes he had discarded there. When he returned clothed, the glass was no longer attached to the chair.
“See, that wasn’t so difficult, was it? What is done is done, all we can do now is move on, no? Now, please do enlighten me as to your reasons for attempting to murder me. And what delusions of grandeur you have that you thought it could ever be possible.”
He took the seat across from her, but still said nothing.
“Told you to stay silent, did they? Whoever your accomplices are, they certainly won’t help you now. Only the successful assassins get rewarded. A category you do not qualify for. Perhaps they’re sitting right now, wondering why they ever thought you would come close to success. Why they ever trusted you to commit a murder.”
He bristled
“It wasn’t an assassination attempt.”
“Really? How interesting.” It really was. Had he thought he could kidnap her? Or did he simply want to make a public display? “I’m still certain you had accomplices. And attempting to stupefy your Empress is still treason. So, we are very much at the same place we were at the beginning. Except for you putting on your clothes, of course. Now you deny Miss Morgana having anything to do with it. But perhaps your brother helped you? He was inside the ministry the whole time, after all.”
She could see him fighting between staying silent and protecting his brother. The protection won out, just as she had known it would.
“My brother wasn’t involved. Please don’t involve him.”
“Tsk, your brother wasn’t involved, Miss Morgana wasn’t involved. Then who was? You can’t protect all of your little accomplices, Graham.”
“Okay… okay. Miss Morgana helped me. She knew the passwords and stuff. She was my insider.”
Interesting indeed. He was willing to throw a stranger directly into the dementors’ arms for his brother. Mary would have done the same if she had had anyone she wished to protect. But she hadn’t expected it from someone as Gryffindor as Graham. And to blame Miss Morgana too. She was truthfully a bit offended at that. There was no need to involve hardworking employees here.
“Miss Morgana claims she wasn’t involved. And who should I trust more? You, my assailant, or her, my hardworking employee whose first name you don’t even know? No, here’s what I think happened: You and your brother wanted to murder me, for whatever feebleminded reasons you may have. Your brother then sexually assaults Miss Burke to get arrested and gain some sexual satisfaction, which I suspect is rare for both of you. You then use visiting him in the low-risk cells as an excuse to visit the ministry where you obtain everything needed for your plan, which you then carried out during the ball. Am I correct?”
Just as he was about to answer, a guard knocked on the door. When she called him in, he only gave a brief message.
“Miss Morgana wishes to inform her Majesty of the completion of the task.”
“That took some time.” Mary would have had it done before Graham had even begun to talk to her.
“We couldn’t confirm her security clearance, your majesty. She had no wand”
“Thank you, you may go.”
Honestly, she had designed a whole new tool for magic, integrated it into the magical infrastructure she had developed from the very first scraps of ideas, and then none of her idiot employees knew how to use it.
“Now, where were we? Ah yes, your brother’s crimes-“
“He didn’t do it!” Graham shouted. Finally, they were getting somewhere.
“Oh, he didn’t?”
“No! He got framed by some pureblood pervert! All we wanted was a quiet life!!”
“You seem to care a lot about your brother.”
No answer. And they had just been doing so well.
“You must be happy that he’s in the low-risk cells then. I have heard that they’re very comfortable. And we only interrogate the prisoners there once a day or so.”
Even less, but that wasn’t the point here. The point was that “He didn’t do it, okay? Interrogate me all you want, play loud noises at four am, torture me for all I care. Just stay away from him, he doesn’t deserve this.”
“Well, you certainly haven’t made it easier for him Graham. With a brother who committed high treason, in front of the assistant to the head of the DMLE no less, he won’t be very credible when explaining how he isn’t a criminal.” She looked him directly in the eyes. “But I do understand that this is a very trying time for you. Do you perhaps wish to write your brother a letter? I will personally ensure it is delivered.”
He looked sceptically at her, but when paper and pencil appeared in front of him, he took the chance. From here, his handwriting looked rather ugly, and due to its largeness, it had soon filled both front and back. He handed it to her, still looking very suspicious. Mary called a guard in.
“Please take this to Tristan Merlin. He should be in the high-risk cell next door.”
Graham let out a pitiful mixture of moan and sigh. Then he started to scream.
“You said! You said he was in the-“
Mary silenced him, this time by magic. She was growing bored of him.
“Indeed, I did. Now, I did tell you I would ensure the delivery personally. Meanwhile you should reflect on the consequence your choices have had for your brother.”
She walked out and left him sitting in the wobbly chair, head in his hands. Tristan Merlin was still reading the letter when she entered, but he immediately looked up and knelt on the floor for her. Clearly the more intelligent brother.
“Your majesty,” he said, nothing but fear present in his voice.
“Please, don’t mind me, I’m simply assuring your brother that his letter was indeed delivered. We had a rather interesting conversation in the cell next door.”
If it was possible for Tristan to look more afraid and alarmed, he would have done so. But as her mere presence already had him panicking, there wasn’t much he could do with his expression.
“My brother? You talked to my brother? He’s next door?” He then seemed to realise who he had spoken to and hastily added a “your Majesty”.
“Indeed. He seems to think that you are innocent of all charges?” She stepped closer to his kneeling form.
“Yes, I am. Your Majesty. I never even met the gal, the aurors just showed up at my door one morning. They took me to a cell, didn’t even leave it until today.”
“Do you know your brother well, Mr. Merlin? Or do you prefer Mr. Peterson?”
“Whatever pleases your Majesty. I go by Peterson to be distinguishable from all the other Merlins out there. Me and Gra- my brother took it after our father.”
Mary didn’t care about Tristan Peterson Merlin’s sentimental reasons for his chosen name. What she cared about was “Your brother, Mr. Peterson, do you know him well?”
“Of course! Sorry, your Majesty! I mean; Yes, I would say I know him well.”
“Delightful,” she answered drily. “Then you could perhaps enlighten me as to why he drew his wand on me yesterday evening at the Litha Gala? Perhaps he mentioned it in the letter, though I wouldn’t know. His handwriting appears dreadful.”
“Drew his wand.. I’m sure there must have been a mistake your majesty, he would never have done no such thing. My brother wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
Mary was starting to grow bored of the snivelling man at her feet too, but she did want to figure out the deeper motivations behind the whole thing. And he was more talkative than his brother.
“He nevertheless drew his wand on me. With witnesses present. Has your brother expressed discontent with my rule to you?”
The man hesitated.
“I suppose he never much appreciated our lot in life. But he always talked about the day we would become citizens together. He was really looking forward to it. He got very upset when I was pulled in. I kept telling him they’d let me go eventually, but he was going on about how I’d never get my citizenship now.”
Mary was starting to see the motivation, but she was still wondering.
“How did Graham get a job here and the ministry passwords?”
“He did that? Well there’s this guy who regularly comes to the bar. He keeps bragging about being some ministry bigshot. Always just thought he was full of it, but perhaps there was some truth to it. Parcival Yankley or something.”
“I see, thank you.”
Mary left him there on the floor, but she still wasn’t quite satisfied. She knew how, she knew why, she knew that she had to fire Parcival Yaxley. But she didn’t know what exactly Graham had thought would happen after the whole affair. She really should get back to her work, but the whole thing would be running laps in her head if she didn’t get an answer.
She looked into the other cell to see her would-be-assailant pacing around in there. Why did he have to be so simple minded? She was certain if someone like Hermione Morgana had attempted to murder her, it would have been interesting. Intriguing even. Not that the girl would have any chance of succeeding without a wand.
She went into the cell, bored of the game now. Instead, she simply forced his mind open. And was woefully disappointed. It turned out the man had not had a plan at all. He had simply assumed that when he had her at wandpoint, she would agree to let him and his brother go back to their lives. Such disappointment. Why could he not have been an interesting assassin?
She walked out of the holding cells and gave her commands to one of the guards.
“Release Tristan Merlin. Someone else assaulted the Burke girl, probably someone she knows. Have the case transferred to an auror that actually knows anything about sexual assault. As for Graham… hmmm… I don’t care. The aurors will take care of it.”
July 1st, 1999
Every now and then, Mary went out with Barty, Regulus, and Bellatrix after work. They still talked about work, of course. They rarely talked about anything but work. Where they went to varied, but Mary never particularly cared. Everywhere she frequented became fashionable simply by her being there, and currently, that place was Salon de Lyon. It was a salon in Horizon Alley and while pleasant enough, its interior, red velvet and gold trim, was so garishly Gryffindor she doubted anyone but a Gryffindor would have designed it. It also had some rather impressive privacy wards for those who didn’t bother to set up their own like Mary. It still had several central flaws that she could exploit, but they did function smoothly. Another reason she didn’t mind going here; the ability to eavesdrop on the other patrons through the privacy wards.
The reason they went there for their little outings was currently standing right in front of her. Though Mary doubted the girl noticed her, as she was busy practically shoving her chest into Barty’s face. Did she not have any respect for her Empress? Or her job? Though she supposed the latter was protected precisely because the girl was micrometres away from sitting in Barty’s lap every time she came around with more tea.
This Thursday afternoon they were discussing the fallout from the Selwyn case when a large group entered the establishment. Mary enjoyed that while the Salon was always filled with patrons, it was relatively quiet. Yet this group somehow managed to break whatever magic kept the sound levels low immediately upon entry. They were about 20 in total and loudly took their places at a row of tables. She was tempted to leave immediately, but then she spotted a familiar face in the throng of what she now recognised to be young assistants. Hermione Morgana.
Mary knew of the others, of course, but she knew the names of practically everyone in the ministry. She decided to stay for a bit, if only to observe if Miss Morgana had become any better at fitting into the pureblood club. She let her three companions talk on while she tuned into the privacy wards to find their little bubble.
“-ile she was in the room right next door.” No.
“Really, kettlebottom thickness is-” Not that one either.
“Sorry Rhiannon, but how does the menu work?” There.
“Oh, its easy you just tap your wand to the thing you want.”
“Interesting… how does the magic work?”
Mary couldn’t see any of their facial expressions without outright staring, which she would not demean herself to. But she could certainly hear that Miss Morgana had once again encountered a problem which one needed a wand to solve.
“I don’t know. Perhaps Michael does. Michael! How do the menus work?”
“The menu registers the magic wood of the wand. So you can’t just poke your finger at it if that’s what you’re wondering.”
It seemed neither of the others had made the connection between the need for a wand to order and Miss Morgana’s lack of one. Quite inconsiderate behaviour, were these people really the future of her Empire?
The loudness of the group made it practically impossible to carry on their conversation, and Barty was too distracted by his little server girl to even participate. He was following her movements around the room, something she was clearly aware of by the way she made sure to show of her various assets to their table. And to add to the catastrophic way this outing was going, she could see Daphne Greengrass calculating how to approach them without breaking every single rule of proper decorum. No. This was not pleasant at all. She was leaving.
July 9th,1999
Madame Black’s office was reportedly one of the best ones in the entire ministry, which was why she would often host meetings there instead of booking a meeting room. Such an instance happened when Madame Black had a meeting with the Head of Magical Culture, the Head of International Relations, and the Empress. Everything was ready, with four chairs seated around the table and refreshments prepared. So, when Mr. Greengrass showed up with his niece in tow it wasn’t exactly a pleasant surprise.
“I hope you don’t mind, Andromeda, that I brought Daphne along. I thought she could take minutes for us.”
Hermione had had plans to do answer some letters during the meeting but could see by Madame Black’s look that she would now be taking minutes. While it wasn’t easy to read Madame Black, the brief look of horror in her eyes when it was suggested to let someone inefficient take the minutes had not taken long to learn.
“Certainly Timothy, but I have already talked to Hermione about doing so. But Miss Greengrass is very welcome to take personal notes for you. Hermione, could you please fetch Miss Greengrass a chair?” And one for you too, was clearly implied.
And that was how Hermione ended up sitting next to Madame Black and across from Daphne Greengrass, taking notes while editing out any slurs Lucius Malfoy decided to throw in. She had assumed someone heading Britannia’s diplomacy effort would be less… uncouth. She also had to studiously ignore the dagger eyes Daphne was sending her the whole time, and when it was all over Hermione couldn’t have been happier.
She went back to her work in the front office, leaving the department heads and the Empress to socialize. Hermione had assumed that Daphne would soon be leaving to go back to her work as well, as would have been appropriate. However, she didn’t.
At some point, Hermione had to file a rather large collection of reports, so she carried the first pile through Madame Black’s office where everyone had moved to the section of couches. Madame Black herself had recently left, probably to use the loo. Hermione left the door to the filing room slightly ajar, that way she had something to do while sorting everything. She could hear Daphne clearly.
“I mean, I get that Madame Black was desperate for a new assistant, but to go so far as to hire a mudblood? And an ugly one at that. Don’t you find her presence disturbing, your Majesty? I certainly would if I had to interact more with someone wandless. How does she even do her job?”
Hermione wasn’t exactly surprised Daphne would say something like that. But it still hurt. And was she ugly? She knew she couldn’t outshine someone beautiful like Rhiannon or even Daphne. But it still hurt.
“I have found Miss Morgana to be rather qualified. And I would not call her ugly either, Miss Greengrass. She has quite fine eyes, for example.”
Okay. Yeah. That was… surprising. And very confusing too. She should just ignore it, like she ignored all the other weird things the Empress did around her, right? Right.
When she walked through the office once more to file the rest, Madame Black was back, but Mr. Greengrass had left. Daphne was still there, though. At this point, there was no excuse for staying, but Daphne clearly didn’t need an excuse. Upon walking back out after having to endure Daphne sucking up to the Empress for five minutes, her Majesty called out to Hermione.
“Miss Morgana, I should like a copy of the notes you took today.”
Hermione curtsied. “Of course, your Majesty. I will have them ready for when you leave.”
“Your Majesty,” Daphne interrupted, “I also have some notes, you may have them right now.”
Hermione swore the Empress almost rolled her eyes.
“Thank you, Miss Greengrass, but I have no need for them now. You may leave them at my office later.”
While Hermione was pleased that she had won whatever competition had been going on in that interaction, she was in trouble now. She had no wand and could therefore not make a copy without Madame Black. Usually, she would prepare files for copying once a day and Madame Black would copy all of them in one spell. It was one of the few things that was truly impossible without a wand if she didn’t want to sit and copy everything by hand.
When her Majesty exited a short while after, Hermione had no copy to show her. She had a half-finished hand-written copy with ink still wet, but she wasn’t going to show that to the Empress.
“Apologies your Majesty, but I’m not able to copy it without a wand. I can come by with it later.”
“Nonsense, I shall make a copy right now.” She accepted the notes from Hermione and suddenly there were two of them. With that, the Empress was gone, and Hermione was left wondering. The Empress thought she was “rather qualified”. And had “quite fine eyes”. What did any of that mean?
July 16th, 1999
For every time she interacted with the Empress, Hermione had a harder and harder time burying the strangeness of it deep in her mind. She had nonetheless succeeded in somewhat ignoring the incident of last Friday. That morning, Madame Black had asked her to pick up some wine that was arriving for her office. Hermione readily agreed, assuming there would be one or two boxes, an easy task. However, when she arrived there, there was five boxes, all with six bottles of what looked like very expensive Portuguese elven wine.
An easy task if she had had a wand.
The boxes were standing out in the open of the atrium, so she couldn’t leave them there. However, she also couldn’t carry all of them at once. People were rushing by fast, and she didn’t know any of them. She was alone in the atrium with an absurd amount of absurdly expensive wine. What was she supposed to do?
Finally, she saw Robert Abbott walking by.
“Robert!” He looked up at her. “Sorry, but could you help me? I have to carry all of these boxes to Madame Black’s office.”
He nodded. “I can help you to the elevator, but Daphne forgot to file our expenses last month, and if I want the 30 galleons I spent on food for various events back, I need to do it today. Just the big elevators?”
“Yes, thank you so much. I don’t know what I was going to do.”
With Robert’s help, she quickly had herself and the boxes inside an elevator, wondering what exactly she would do when she reached the DMLE’s floor. Perhaps she could put one of the boxes in way of the doors? But maybe that would crush them? She was alone in the elevator, but on the 8th floor the elevator stopped to let someone in. Hermione didn’t know who the woman was, but she clearly recognized Hermione. And she was wearing a necklace with a picture of the Empress on it. Some people really took imperial devotion seriously.
“Hello Miss Morgana.” She said. The woman was beautiful, jet-black hair and a deep silky voice. Her eyes were brown with a reddish hue. Strange, she was sure there was someone else who had- Hermione hurriedly curtseyed at the realisation.
“Your Majesty”. How had she not recognized the fucking Empress? The most terrifying woman in the world, and Hermione started thinking about how pretty she was?
“You are going to the 10th floor, I assume?”
“Indeed, you Majesty.” Hermione looked down, still blushing.
“If I may ask, how do you plan to bring all of your boxes out of the elevator with you?”
“Uhm.. I don’t know, your Majesty.” Why did her interactions with the Empress always end up like this?
“This is becoming too much. You clearly cannot perform well due to your lack of wand. I keep encountering you in trouble due to this. It is frustrating, I do not like having to look at inefficiency.”
Was she going to lose her job? Was the Empress going to force her to leave? She had known it would happen eventually. That they would realize she was too much trouble. She would move back, away from the apartment she had come to love. Away from pretty clothes and food she got to pick herself. Away from the opportunity to bring money and knowledge back to her peers.
“It is unacceptable.” Hermione had accepted her fate.
“We shall have to get you a wand, I cannot bear to look at this level of… of obstruction. We leave from your office at five.”
They had reached the 10th floor, the Empress had levitated the boxes out of the elevator, and it had continued, carrying away the terrifying enigma of a woman. Hermione was still standing there, in the elevator hall where she had first met the Empress. And she was wondering, once again, what the fuck had just happened?
Notes:
Okay, so we didn’t reach the wand itself, really sorry about that<3 But I really want that part to be good and I just didn’t have time to write over 2k more words:) (School go brrrr)
Mary is a crazy bitch. This girl heard human rights and was like “yes I’m a human and I’m always right. Multiple human being right instances = human rights”.
I’m lowkey a bit afraid of making her too crazy, you know? But then there’d also be no room for character development.
Also, English isn’t my mother tongue, so I don’t really know if “minutes” is the appropriate word for the document you write during a meeting referring everything that happened? If there’s a better word I’d love to know, as none of the translation sources in my language really talk about it.
Chapter Text
July 16th, 1999
Hermione simply continued to work, pretending that she had just hallucinated that interaction. There was nothing else she could do. How was she supposed to reconcile the fact that the Empress, the honest to fucking Circe supreme all-powerful ruler, was going to buy her a wand with everything else that had ever happened in her life. In general, all her interactions with the Empress felt as if they belonged in a separate reality, one where absurdity was normality, and time was of no concern.
Madame Black left at five exactly, and just as the floo died down the Empress entered. Hermione had been pretending to shuffle papers around, just in case she was supposed to look busy. Or in case that the Empress wouldn’t show up, and she really had hallucinated the whole thing.
“Your Majesty.” Hermione got up to curtsey.
“So, you recognise me now?”
She had noticed that ordeal. How mortifying, Hermione couldn’t remember anything dumber she had ever done. All she could do was blush and curtsey again.
“Apologies, your Majesty.”
The Empress waved her hand dismissively.
“Usually, when I do not wish to be recognised, I am not. I have various methods; however, it seems that one of them will have to be revised.”
Hermione was confused. It felt like that was becoming a permanent state. Had the Empress been in disguise when they had met? No, she remembered the hair, the posture. The eyes.
“I’m sorry, your majesty… but I don’t understand.”
“Of course you don’t, I invented the magic myself. And clearly didn’t do so well enough if you could see past it. Do you remember the necklace I was wearing?”
“Yes.” Hermione said tentatively. Where was this going, and why did it have something to do with the Empress’ weird necklace with a self-portrait on it?
“Simply put, the necklace makes people unable to recognise me. The necklace, how to put it…, overwhelms any recognition they have of my other features, so that the only thing about me that they associate with the Empress is the necklace. Which, of course, makes them think I’m a lunatic, but that’s a small price to pay, everything considered. It is not foolproof, as you proved today but it keeps the general populace away. Could you tell me exactly the thought process in your head when you looked at me?”
Hermione’s blush had barely abated before it was back. Had she been thinking inappropriately about the Empress? No, she had merely been admiring the Empress’ looks and thought that she would like to look that pretty too. And there shouldn’t be anything wrong with admiring the Empress.
“Well, I thought…” she trailed off. It felt inappropriate to say. “I thought you had very remarkable eyes. And then there was this sort of thought at the back of my head that I had seen something like it before. And then I realized that the Empress had such eyes. And that’s when I realized that you were the Empress, your Majesty.”
The Empress nodded like this was very important information.
“I see, you circumvented the spellwork instead of breaking it. Smart of you. Now, since you have already seen through my disguise, so to say, I will be wearing the necklace when we go to Ollivander’s. We shall leave through Andromeda’s floo, if you’re ready.”
Hermione didn’t exactly think she had done anything very smart, nor did she feel ready to go into Diagon Alley with the Empress. However, she followed the other woman’s lead to the Leaky Cauldron, from where they quickly escaped.
“I must really get around to creating a better system for public transport. But no matter. Ollivander’s is the best wand shop in Britannia; I am certain there will be a match for you there.”
They walked quickly up the street which was full of people enjoying the end of the workweek. Hermione walked behind the Empress, struggling to keep up with her quick pace, but they reached the dilapidated wand shop eventually.
Hermione barely had time to look at the façade before the Empress had guided them inside. The shop was dimly lit and covered in dust, not even the counter was free from a thin layer of it. Hermione had never seen this much dust at once, though it wasn’t exactly like she had much experience with dusty places. The ministry, the labour force housing, and the centres she had grown up in had always been kept relatively clean, and she doubted any of them were even old enough to accumulate this amount of dust. The only place without dust were the shelves upon shelves of wands, but only because they were packed so tightly that even the tiniest dust mole would have trouble getting in there.
This was not what Hermione had thought buying a wand would look like. There wasn’t even a shopkeeper here to sell the wands. Just as she had thought that thought, a man emerged from the labyrinth of shelves. He was old, incredibly so, and walked slowly towards them. When he reached the counter, he started bowing so deeply Hermione was afraid his back would simply snap into two, like a twig.
“Your Majesty, it is an honour to have your patronage again. Thirteen and a half inches, yew with a phoenix feather core. Does it still serve you well?”
He had recognized the Empress through her disguise. Perhaps it wasn’t as good as the Empress thought it was if two people had broken it in a day. Her Majesty didn’t seem fazed at this however. She pulled out a bone white wand from her sleeve to show the man. Hermione stared at it, fascinated. The Empress rarely used her wand, instead preferring displays of wandless magic. Hermione had heard that she didn’t even need a wand to cast the killing curse. She was standing a metre from a woman who could cast the killing curse wandlessly. There would be another time to process that though, Hermione was sure.
“Indeed, Mr. Ollivander,” The Empress responded. “Worry not, it is not in pursuit of another wand for myself I have come today.”
At this, Mr. Ollivander turned his head to Hermione.
“I see, your Majesty. For if you had come for another wand, I would have to warn you that yew does not take kindly to competition. And that the troubles one experiences with one’s magic is rarely due to the wand.”
Mr. Ollivander walked closer to Hermione, his eyes squinting to examine her. Perhaps he was slightly blind too, that would explain why the shop was so dark.
“A new face, I doubt I have sold your parents’ wands either. Unless…” he let his stare drift back to the Empress, a question clearly lingering on his tongue.
“No, Mr. Ollivander, nothing of the sort. Miss Morgana is simply in need of a wand, and I have decided to help her.”
He nodded, seemingly satisfied by that. Did he think the Empress was her mother?
“Well then, Miss Morgana, let us begin. It is rare I find wands for people after they’ve graduated Hogwarts, may I ask what happened to your old wand? And it’s make and maker too as well.”
“Oh, I haven’t had a wand before, Mr. Ollivander. I didn’t go to Hogwarts.” She supposed his assumption did make sense, what would the Empress be doing hanging out with a muggleborn? Hermione didn’t know that either.
“My apologies, Miss. I suppose I should have guessed at the name. But now you have the distinction of being the oldest person I have ever sold their first wand to.”
Suddenly, there was a measuring tape flittering around her, taking all sorts of strange measurements. Meanwhile, Mr. Ollivander had begun rushing around the aisles with a speed she had previously thought impossible. He was mumbling to himself and pulling out wand cases which floated over to the counter and started to pile up. The Empress was examining the various wands, though Hermione didn’t know enough about wands to determine anything about the pile.
Mr. Ollivander had come back with an additional armful of wands and was now laying all the boxes out on the countertop and lifting their lids.
“Normally, I go through this process a bit differently, as a child rarely has the magic sensitivity to determine where their affinities lie. But for you Miss, I suspect this shall work. If you would please tell me how your magic responds to these wands.”
Hermione hesitantly stepped closer to the counter, a bit confused at the prospect. Back when she had had wand time, she had had a preferred wand, but that had mostly been due to the fact that it was in relatively good condition. She hadn’t been able to see inside it like some of the other wands, so she didn’t know its core. The wand however, had been light. Looking at the display, it seemed Mr. Ollivander had laid out all wood types there were to be found in the world. She went over to one with a light look and reached out for it. Mr. Ollivander snapped it away before she could touch it. Embarrassed, Hermione stepped back. She had thought she was allowed to touch, but she supposed-
“No, clearly not poplar, which also means…”
He swept up around half of the wands on the table and threw them on a lone chair in the corner.
“Try this one, mahogany and unicorn hair.”
He handed her a wand, and she took it. It felt like any other wand she had used, though she didn’t know if that was the point.
“Give it a swing,” he encouraged. Hermione did just that, but it was snapped from her hand halfway through and replaced with another one.
“Clearly not unicorn hair then. And not mahogany either,” he mumbled before taking the wand she was holding too. He then swept the counter clear of all the wands that had been lying there and disappeared down the aisles.
Hermione looked over to the Empress who had retreated to a corner to watch the process.
“It’s traditional that you go through this alone, so I really shouldn’t offer advice. But don’t be discouraged, Mr. Ollivander loves tricky customers. And it seems you may just be one.”
Mr. Ollivander had returned, once again carrying an armful of wand cases.
“Oh yes, tricky customers are the best. Though I doubt you will be as tricky as her Majesty was. 57 wands tried before the right one came along. Now try this, yew and phoenix feather.”
Hermione gave it a swish, and angry red sparks spat out of the tip. Mr. Ollivander took it again, looking introspective. The Empress suddenly had a very blank face, though Hermione supposed that might be a coincidence. She wasn’t exactly known for her emotional personality.
“No, then dragon heartstring, it must be so. Though perhaps yew really does fit…”
He rummaged through the pile he had brought before giving up and walking back into the aisles. There were at least 30 wands scattered around the front area, and Mr. Ollivander had given up on using the chair for storage. Suddenly, he was in front of her again.
“Yew and dragon heartstring. 10 and ¾ inches.”
Hermione gave it a swish, and this time there was something in the motion that resonated. Could this be the one?
“No no, not yew then. Perhaps something similar. Try this one.”
She held it in her hand, and it did feel even more… whatever the feeling of holding a wand was. However, Mr. Ollivander was still not satisfied.
“Indeed indeed, a tricky customer. But we’re getting closer.”
He handed her a new wand, a warm light wood. It felt warm in her hand too, but there was something about that was… off? Hermione couldn’t describe it. Mr. Ollivander however, seemed to have hit an epiphany.
“Yes, yes, indeed. Just the right combination. Though it seems this wand is not exactly… let’s try a few options.”
He left again, and returned with seven wands, all in the same wood. So far, all of Mr. Ollivander’s wands had been in boxes, but one of the new ones was in a pouch made of a red silky material. Perhaps it was simply due to its lack of a box, but she could feel it more than the other wands in the shop.
“Could I try that one, please,” she asked, pointing at the wand in the pouch. Mr. Ollivander looked enthused at that.
“Of course, is it calling out to you? That would be incredibly interesting, incredibly interesting, yes.”
He handed her the pouch, and Hermione gently pulled the wand out.
Nothing had ever felt like this. She was certain nothing would again either.
Without thinking about it, Hermione started letting her magic flow through the wand with no thought for what it would shape itself into. The feeling of letting out magic, of bending reality, had never been this strong. Had never felt so… right.
She returned to her surroundings and saw that she had generated a bauble of light at the tip of the wand, and that it was growing. Surprised, she stopped the flow of magic, and it snuffed out. Mr. Ollivander nodded.
“Yes indeed, very interesting. Larch, the world tree. And associated with death too, quite like yew. Though, larch, of course, is a burial wood, while yew is watching over the departed. And with dragon heartstring too. I suspect you shall be this wand’s first and last master.” He nodded to himself like Hermione had been a mystery with a perfectly reasonable explanation. “Now, this wand is a bit special, you might have noticed that it came without a box. It has an unfortunate habit of magically charging its surroundings, so I will encourage you to use it as often as possible, Miss Morgana. But yes, with this wand you shall do much magic, and I do suspect it will be quite groundbreaking. And in combination with yew-”
Before he could continue the Empress stepped forward and handed him ten galleons.
“Thank you for your service, Mr. Ollivander. I trust you to be as discreet as always.”
“At your service, your Majesty.”
Mr. Ollivander bowed deeply behind the counter, almost disappearing behind the towers of wands. Before Hermione could ask more questions, the Empress had guided her out of the shop.
“Thank you so much, your Majesty. You have my utmost gratitude.” Hermione said, as they walked back to the Leaky Cauldron. The streets were emptier now, so they could walk side by side, though Hermione walked slightly behind the Empress out of respect.
“Yes. It shall be a delightful decrease in inefficiency. You will even be able to copy your own documents.”
“Of course, your Majesty. I’m sure Madame Black will be happy to teach it to me.” Madame Black was always very helpful when Hermione had questions.
“You don’t know it already?” While Hermione had never seen the Empress express many emotions other than disdain, the combination of it with shock was not a pleasant thing to be the subject of.
“No, you Majesty. It is considered too high a level to teach at the centres.”
“What do you know, then, if gemino is considered too difficult?”
Hermione thought about it.
“Well, I know levitation, banishment and summoning… I was the best in my class at the origami spell. And then some household charms.”
The Empress stopped in the middle of the street staring down at her.
“So you know less than… than anyone who has been at Hogwarts for even a few months. Do you know any transfiguration? Non-corporeal magic?”
“Uhm.. non-corporeal magic?” Hermione asked. She knew she wasn’t well educated, but in the labour force she had been one of the most knowledgeable people. And the fact that there apparently was an essential branch of magic she had not heard of before was humbling.
“Magic that doesn’t affect the physical world. Divination, arithmancy, astronomy. Even some charms,” the Empress pulled them over to the side of the street and pulled a handkerchief out before dropping it. “Get this off the ground and clean it.”
Hermione pulled out her new wand, immediately becoming overwhelmed by the feeling of magic running through her. She moved the wand in the pattern taught to her before saying “Accio”.
The handkerchief awkwardly and very slowly lifted itself from the ground and towards her hand where it slumped as soon as she had touched it. She pointed her wand at it once again before following the wand pattern to perfection.
“Scourgify.”
The few specks of dirt on the white handkerchief disappeared, though there were still some stains left. While this was far from her best results ever, they would not have been considered bad by anyone in the labour force. The whole situation, however, was overshadowed by the incredible ease with which she could perform spells now. Magic flowed from her through her wand as if it was simply another part of her body. Not even the testing probe had let her conduct magic this easily. The Empress interrupted her moment.
“This is unacceptable. If you have a wand, you must know how to use it”. She conjured a small booklet or perhaps summoned it from somewhere. “Read this for next Friday. I shall come to your office at five.”
“Apologies, your Majesty, but what do you mean?” The Empress looked confused at Hermione’s confusion.
“I shall teach you. Please do not tell anyone about this. We would not wish for rumours to fly, no? If anyone asks, simply tell them that you obtained your wand permit.”
Hermione’s head was spinning, dazed at the feeling of magic in her hand and overwhelmed by the Empress’ many commands. She took the booklet from the Empress, revealing her wand holster as she stretched out her arm. The testing probe, she still had that.
“Thank you, your Majesty. Should I give the testing probe back now?”
“Do not ask me questions where you know what I must answer. As a first-time courtesy we shall simply forget that you asked that.”
Hermione nodded, certain that her head would explode from the amount of things happening. And the fact that she had to keep it a secret now. The Empress may think a vague explanation would suffice, but Hermione knew Lavender wouldn’t relent that easily. But that was a problem for tomorrow-Hermione. Current-Hermione had to end this conversation with the Empress before she got her head separated from her neck. She still wasn’t sure whether this was an elaborate ploy to kill her.
Luckily, the Empress did that for her.
“Goodbye. I may send you some questions for the reading.”
With that she was gone, and Hermione was left standing in Diagon Alley, booklet and handkerchief in hand.
Okay. Okay. This was fine. This would definitely end well. No need to worry about the supreme leader insisting to teach you. No worries. At all.
June 17th, 1999
When Hermione made it to her office the next day, she found a small note waiting for her on her desk.
Questions to reflect on:
-Why do we use wands?
-How does a wand work?
-Why do we use incantations and patterns?
-Where does magic come from?
While it wasn’t signed, Hermione had no doubt as to who had sent it. She had yet to read the thing, not because she hadn’t had time for it yesterday, but because she was scared. If she read the booklet, it would be real. This… whole arrangement would be real. What did the Empress even gain from teaching her?
There wasn’t much work to do, and when lunchtime hit, Hermione made her way down to the basement. It was becoming rarer and rarer that she had the time to visit her friends over lunch, but she hoped that now that she had a wand, she could complete some tasks faster.
On the topic of having a wand:
“WHAT?!” Lavender screeched when Hermione showed her. “How, what, when? You must tell me everything.”
She was sitting with Harry, Katie, and Dean in Lavender’s unit room. All of them stared in awe at her wand. While Hermione knew it was a bit of a taboo to let others borrow your wand, she saw no problem with letting it go around. At the educational centre they had all shared one big box of wands, and while she felt protective of her new wand, she knew her friends would treat it carefully. Of course, they weren’t technically allowed to use a wand without a wand permit, but well…
Hermione was starting to think that if she kept following all the rules to the letter, she would never get to have any fun. And what was her new life worth if she couldn’t share it with her friends.
“I can’t really tell you guys anything right now. But I did get it completely legally.”
“Come on,” Katie said. “I know you shouldn’t go around telling everyone. But they make us keep secrets from each other to keep us down. If you tell us, we might be able to get one too.”
Hermione shook her head, feeling guilty. They all deserved to feel the amazement of a properly fitted wand.
“I like having my head connected to my body. And I think it’s a weird one time thing.”
Lavender perked up at that.
“Ohh, is this perhaps a gift from a special someone then? You know, Tracey Davis got her wand as a wedding present from her husband. Who she just happened to meet in Diagon Alley, where you live…”
She waggled her eyebrows at Hermione, who was mortified. Of course, Lavender couldn’t know what she was implying, but she doubted that would be a defence if the Empress ever found out.
“No. And please, please, don’t suggest that again. I got it by… attracting the wrong sort of attention. And you mentioning that… look, guys… I’m ecstatic that I got a wand out of it… but it might as well have ended with my mysterious disappearance. And a truly mysterious one at that, not like what happened to Kristy.”
Harry nodded sombrely, Kristy and him had been close too.
“Will this… attention be something continuous? Like, are there things we shouldn’t ask questions about?”
“Something like that. I’ll tell you guys if there’s anything. For now, let’s just pretend that I woke up one day and had a wand.”
Hermione twirled it around in her hands and small golden sparks shot out. Mr. Ollivander had been correct in the wand’s desire for conducting magic. Whenever she simply held it, it would almost be pulling on her magic, encouraging her to use it.
“Anyways, how’s everything going down here?”
Katie was still angry, Dean was still sick, Lavender was still in love, and Harry was still conflicted. Hermione wondered what she still was. Or if she had perhaps changed?
July 23rd, 1999
Hermione had read the booklet. It had been a surprisingly good read about the nature of magic and wands and how it all worked. Hermione had cleared her desk and finished her work. It had been the usual things and having a wand had not made reading tedious reports any easier. Hermione had written notes on the questions she was supposed to reflect on. It had been very interesting to reflect on, but her biggest question was still what the Empress was getting out of this.
None of these things had made her feel prepared. At all. So, when the clock struck five and Madame Black left, she was stuck between awaiting the Empress and hoping that she wouldn’t come.
She came, of course she did. It was as if she had a way of knowing exactly when Madame Black had left, because she entered immediately afterwards.
“Hello, Miss Morgana. Could you please move the partitions to seclude us from the entrance?”
The Empress was wearing a two-piece ensemble in a dark red that matched her eyes. She wore a matching hairpiece made of some sort of red stone that contrasted with her hair. The whole look was immaculately put together and, Hermione though, very flattering on the Empress. Hermione was just wearing one of the dresses she purchased with Lavender and the bracelet she got from Lady Malfoy and it felt immensely lacking in comparison.
Hermione did as she was ordered after curtseying as a greeting. Her throat felt dry, and she was certain her voice would crack if she spoke. This would be her end.
“Today we shall investigate the very nature of magic. I believe that an understanding of such concepts is essential to becoming a talented witch. Or someone worthy of the title of witch at all.” At that she gave Hermione a look that implied she currently did not qualify for that title. “Now, Miss Morgana, do you know why we use wands?”
Hermione swallowed.
“Because they help conduct and shape the magic? Your Majesty.”
“Do not answer with a question. But yes, a correct, if vague, answer. But you do touch on something essential, a wand both conducts and shapes. In contrast to the testing probe, which simply allows you to conduct magic. The testing probe simply has a core without any wand wood, which is what helps the shaping of the magic. So, why do we use incantations and patterns? It is clearly not something that is necessary.”
The booklet hadn’t said anything about it outright. And Hermione had no idea.
“I don’t know, your Majesty.”
The Empress walked over to the sofa and sat down, crossing her legs and staring at Hermione.
“Guess then.”
“Because it helps with shaping the magic?”
“Well yes, in some ways. But why? How?” The Empress tilted her head and Hermione felt as if she was a bug being examined. And one that was close to losing interest from its viewer.
“Maybe it reduces the amount of power and concentration you need?”
Those were the things they had always emphasised in wand time. Before then telling everyone that as muggleborns they had none of that and were way worse at magic than Hogwarts students.
“Again, you’re correct in a way. Let’s continue to the next question and see if that might help. Where does magic come from? A challenging question, I know.”
Hermione felt completely exposed standing in front of the Empress like this. The Empress seemed completely at ease and Hermione felt like she would combust shortly. Either by self-immolation or by the Empress shooting a spell at her for her stupidity.
“From… somewhere inside me?”
This time the Empress actually chuckled at her answer.
“Again, correct in a way. The question is still debated, though I suspect you feel a sense of it travelling out from inside you when you perform magic, no?”
Hermione nodded at that.
“The magic does not exactly originate from you, but for this explanation ‘somewhere inside you’ is enough. When you perform magic, you bend the world to your will. To do this, you need focus and power. By pronouncing a spell and waving your wand in a pattern, you reduce the demand for those two things, but, as everything else in life, it is a trade-off. You lose freedom, speed, and quality. You limit yourself to only the spells you know, you need to perform it before the magic happens, and the result is only as good as your performance of the spell. Which is why we will be taking a different approach in your tutelage.”
The Empress got up from the couch in an impressively smooth motion. How did she manage to maintain that level of elegance all the time? She walked closer to Hermione and stood right in front of her.
“There are mountains upon mountains of spells out there, and you can never learn them all. Instead, I will teach you the pure way of magic. The one most witches and wizards can never learn. I will teach you to shape your magic through yourself, without the need for other people’s silly spells. It will be challenging, very much so. But I believe that you are worthy of my teachings.”
Hermione swallowed nervously. The Empress had moved even closer and was now a wand’s length in front of her. She still had one burning question.
“Why?” she asked, before remembering her place. “Your Majesty, if the question is not too much.”
“Why? Perhaps a multitude of reasons made it a good enough idea for me to follow it. It was, of course, incredibly annoying observing you bumble around without a wand. Additionally, you’re… interesting enough that I can stand spending time with you. And I suppose… that I have always wanted to try teaching. You’re simply lucky that you ended up in the right place at the right time.” The Empress seemed to think for a moment. “In our lessons, you should be able to ask questions without fear of offending me. Perhaps… yes. Inside this room on Fridays from five to six, you will simply be Hermione, and I will simply be Mary. Outside of that you will still address me appropriately, but I believe that these lessons will only work if we put aside the societal context for a short while. Now, we will start with kinetics, specifically telekinesis.”
Mary, as she was now called, moved away from Hermione again and sat back down. Hermione took a moment to process that. The Empress was named Mary? Or was it a cover name? She did suppose she couldn’t have been born “the Empress”… but this felt incredibly wrong. But not doing it was also wrong, she couldn’t oppose and imperial command like that.
“On your desk, behind you, there are various objects. Please envision one of them inside your mind, without looking.”
Hermione thought about the quill, standing in the inkwell. She thought of the sharp tip stained in ink, the lower bristles that had been trimmed, and the soft feel of the uncut bristles.
“Now, imagine that object lifting itself from the table.”
Hermione did as she was commanded, feeling silly. She wasn’t sure if she should close her eyes, but it felt disrespectful to the woman who, despite her name change, was still very much the Empress of Hermione and everyone she knew. She kept them open and simply imagined the quill slowly lifting itself out of the inkwell, as if it was being levitated.
“Take your wand in hand and do the same thing again while letting your magic flow.”
Hermione took out her wand which hummed at the opportunity to be a conduit. She imagined the quill in detail, making sure she imagined its position too. Then, slowly, she imagined it lifting while letting the wand conduct her magic into the world. Mary nodded, though Hermione didn’t know if she had succeeded. She had felt the magic leave her, but it certainly hadn’t felt like a normal spell.
She wasn’t told whether she succeeded, but at the end of the lesson, when she had done it ten times, Mary asked her to turn around and do it. Hermione went through the, by now very familiar, process. And nothing happened.
She looked to Mary, who seemed to understand her unspoken question.
“You did manage to make it lift slightly for the last few tries. I want you to practice for next time, you should be able to achieve consistent results with the quill while having real time visual contact with it. Next time we will work on wider ranges of motion. Goodbye.”
Mary got up from her position on the couch and left without much ado. Hermione wondered when her life had turned into this.
Notes:
Personally, I interpret the feeling of holding a perfectly matched wand as when you finally wear a bra that fits.
Also, the absurdity of this is like, sexy putin gives you, a marginalized minority he has practically committed crimes against humanity against, rights and special tutoring because you’re kinda entertaining and his childhood dream was becoming a teacher.
Anyways, hermione has her wand now!!!!!! I’m so exited for the “real” interactions to begin. (They will be very normal lesbians about this, no need to worry about their emotional capacity. Or ability to resolve conflicts in a stable way. They will be so normal and happy guys.)
Chapter 9: In which there is frustration but also ice cream
Notes:
Posting this on Sunday as I'm going away on a trip for a few days:)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
26th July, 1999
Mondays usually carried a lot of inane tasks with it as people came back from their weekends without any idea what had happened since Thursday. (You obviously couldn’t expect anyone to remember what had happened Friday). While boring, it also meant that Hermione usually had time to visit her friends on their lunchbreak. This Monday they met in Harry’s unit room and mostly listened to Lavender talk about Ron. Apparently, they had talked about marriage, though it seemed to Hermione to have been more about romantic ideals and less about the practicalities.
Lavender had gotten a little radio from Ron’s older brothers Fred and George. Apparently, a prototype for an even smaller model. Their goal was to make it totally portable and able to play just to your ears. Currently, it couldn’t really do either, but it was playing softly in the background.
“What about you, Hermione,” Lavender asked, “is there a special someone in your life?”
“No.” Hermione said, but she blushed. It was always uncomfortable to talk about for some reason. For other reasons she also couldn’t quite figure out, she thought of Rhiannon, who was very pretty, but a girl. Hermione knew that some people dated people of their own gender, but… that just wasn’t her. That sounded like a complicated life, and she felt as if she had enough of those already.
Instead of elaborating on her tumultuous inner thoughts, she went back to her previous focus, making that blasted fucking feather float. It felt like her every waking moment since Friday had been spent pouring magic into that thing. She let the others talk on while taking deep breaths. Imagine the feather, imagine your magic lifting it… breathe in and out and. It rolled around on the floor, just like it had been doing since Friday
The others stopped talking to watch her, as if her feather slowly dusting the floor was the most entertaining thing they had ever seen. She let out a scream of frustration. Why wouldn’t it just move?! She lashed her wand at it in an arc, and with a bounce of energy, it leaped up. It fell to the floor again, but it didn’t matter. She had done it.
Her friends cheered, and she handed them her wand and took a break from spellcasting. Or whatever the Empress’ weird technique was called. Was she supposed to think of her as Mary or the Empress now? Probably the Empress, but both choices felt inappropriate, like she crossed a line either way. Katie was the one who took best to her wand, but according to all of them, Hermione’s wand was much better than anything they had tried at the educational centre.
Katie was carefully casting accio on the feather when her concentration was broken by the radio suddenly increasing in loudness. The feather dropped mid-flight, and Lavender went over to the radio to turn it down.
“Blasted thing, bet the twins thought it would be funny to have it-“
She was interrupted by the host of the music programme.
“Attention dear citizens of Britannia, your benevolent ruler, her Majesty Empress Voldemort will address you in fifteen minutes from the Imperial Balcony at the Ministry. Please either find your way to the plaza of Circe or be prepared to listen at a radio.”
Sometimes, the Empress addressed the nation if something important was going on, or she wanted to announce a new initiative. If you had heard the announcement on the radio, or simply by being in one of the many public places with a radio installed, you were legally obliged to listen to the Empress’ words. It rarely mattered for the Labour Force, and they weren’t allowed to go to the Ministry Plaza. But you never knew when someone might report you for not listening, or when new rules concerning them would be announced.
Mary loved addressing her nation. One shouldn’t do it too often, as it did disrupt people’s lives, but once in a while they would see it as a welcome distraction, without even noticing how her words affected them. She had dressed in bright red so the ones without omniculars could still see her, and as she stepped from her office out onto the balcony she could hear the roar of the people below.
“My dearest children.”
The crowd went silent immediately. Mary smiled, pleased at them and at her ability to teach them well.
“As some of you know, I was recently attacked here at the ministry. While the attacker was aeons away from even being remotely successful, it did bring up some appalling flaws in the ministerial security. Additionally, in my quest for answers from the man who attacked me, I found several mishandled cases among my aurors, specifically in regard to attacks on women. It seems to me that the men of Britannia have a great behavioural problem. One, that I have taken it upon myself to fix. I know, that you, women of Britannia, feel unsafe while walking at night, perhaps even feel unsafe in your own homes, never knowing when a man with arsonist aspirations may come knocking. It is imperative to me, that all of my citizens, my children, feel safe in my country. This is why I have designed a system so that you may live your lives free of worry. In public places like the Ministry and Diagon Alley, we will now be installing cutting-edge technology which I have invented myself, to watch over you. You will be able to walk at night, safely, knowing that Britannia is watching over you. In just a few short months, women of Britannia, you will be able to reclaim the streets with confidence and focus on the things which really matter to you. Know that I love you, my children, and only want the best for you.”
With that, they knew that it was time for the applause. The noise roared in her ears, in her head, in her blood. It rushed through her body, and she felt powerful. Dark magic and violent force had its allure, but nothing compared to this, the adoration of thousands, ready to believe her every word.
Mary left while they were still cheering, and down below, the aurors began passing out leaflets about the new initiatives, all of which had an ice mouse attached to cool her people down in the summer heat. Nothing like sweets to encourage them to come back next time. And an excuse to skive off work for at least another 20 minutes. The pictures of their adoration would reach every security agency’s desk tomorrow, and in less than a week, the whole world would know that the people adored her. No, loved her.
Inside her office, the inner circle was waiting. Mary hadn’t given them that name herself, but it had a marvellous effect of making everyone aspire to be in it. The inner circle was loosely defined and changed every now and then, but currently, Bellatrix, Barty, Regulus, Lucius, Augustus Rookwood, Alecto, Andromeda, and Corban Yaxley were waiting inside her office. She did try to limit herself to one person per house, otherwise the whole Black clan would have been sitting here. She was that honest with herself at least. They always enjoyed a few drinks together after the speeches, and the others enjoyed moaning about all the work they would have to do now.
A few of the fliers were strewn about on a coffee table, stripped of their ice mice. There was a suspicious pile of tails near Regulus however, but Mary chose not to comment.
“This is going to take at least 100 units to cover.” Augustus said while pointing his finger at the map of areas to be installed with “watchful eyes” as the cameras had been named. “Who’s going to build that?”
“Why, your personnel, of course. Given the amount of resources we have put into the dense crystal research, I assume they are able to build these very simple constructions. Am I wrong?”
Mary looked at him expectantly. Another wonderful part about her inner circle was that she rarely needed to begin using her methods of intimidation and persuasion. After many years in her service, they did all of that themselves. Augustus nodded, but Mary wasn’t spared the onslaught. Corban apparently had something to add too.
“Assuming that the money for this much dense crystal can be found, a supplier is a whole other issue. The ICW upgraded dense crystal to category four for aggression-applicable materials. There’s barely any countries who have large enough deposits to sell, and all of them have sanctioned us.”
“While your point is astute, I do think all of us know about that particular decision.” She looked at Lucius at this, and he seemed appropriately reminded of his failures. “The Russians have agreed to sell us a sufficient shipment as a preliminary sign of goodwill. Under the table, of course, they’re still not trading it officially.”
“And you’re choosing to use it on this,” Bellatrix asked. She seemed to realize the aggressive nature of her question quickly though and added. “if your Majesty would be kind enough to elaborate on your plans.” Bellatrix was lucky she was so useful, as her temper could have sent her to many less favourable positions over the years.
“I will in due time, do not worry Bellatrix. But perhaps I should give you the details now. All the people here have proved themselves to be exceptionally… trustworthy”. This time she looked at Andromeda, though less obviously so than Lucius. No one knew about her and Andromeda’s little agreement, and Andromeda was a smart woman. She would know the comment was meant for her.
“The Russians are going to stipulate that we do not use it to enhance our military strength. But by using it to create surveillance, we can observe both domestic crimes, and foreign interventions. I know this map shows a rather lacklustre cover of Knockturn, but we will obviously put more of them into place.” A few of her most loyal servants suddenly looked concerned. “The more specific placement will be determined at the next Council of Lords meeting.” As if she didn’t already know about their dirty little secrets. Barty looked completely unconcerned, but Mary supposed he aired his dirty secrets proudly to everyone.
At last, it was Andromeda’s turn to complain. Mary was actually a bit proud at that. She rarely spoke up during the meetings, though she was marvellous at hosting them. “Who will staff this, your Majesty? Will aurors be expected to sit through hours of footage of Florean Fortescue’s?”
Mary smiled. “I’m sure you and Regulus can develop a smart solution here. Get some money from Corban to do it. And perhaps include your assistant Andromeda, she seems quite smart.” Oh, how she enjoyed the dread on their faces. And the best part was, they had all chosen this career themselves. They could have simply lived a quiet life in their countryside mansions. Well, not Andromeda, but she made her choices long ago.
She shooed them all out of her office through the secret passage, she had work to do and things to ponder. No need to disturb her secretaries, and no need for a secret passage if no one used it. Perhaps she would send the pictures of the crows to MACUSA herself? No, her achievements spoke for themselves. When could she next address her whole nation? Hmm, things to ponder indeed.
Andromeda had hastily agreed on a meeting time with Regulus and Corban, none of them exited at the prospect of executing the Empress’ newest idea. She liked to think of herself as a reasonable person. She found reasonable solutions to reasonable problems. She rarely went outside of the box, her job rarely required her to. And usually, her boss understood that. But sometimes the Empress would get overwhelmed by a new concepts, and without input launch a grand new initiative. And the rest of them were left scrambling to put the whole thing together.
Andromeda came back to her office to see Hermione trying to levitate a feather without a spell again, while listening to a howler threatening to report the whole DMLE to the Empress if they didn’t immediately arrest his neighbour for not shutting his lights at 10PM every day. Yes, the citizens were rarely creative, so Andromeda rarely had to be either. She had her routines, they protected her. Being creative always led to trouble. She had learned that early on in her life, and it had continued to be enforced.
“Are you listening to the complaint?” She asked Hermione who seemed more focused on making the feather do something. Her assistant was swinging her wand in angry arcs at the poor quill, though Andromeda doubted it could ever be used for writing again. The feather in question was staying stubbornly on the desk.
Hermione looked up from her attempt at lighting the quill on fire with her eyes. At this rate it may happen before she succeeded with her other project. “Oh, hello Madame Black. It’s a guy who sends these every day. I’ve sent him a letter a few times, and usually just burn them. But he keeps inventing new addresses so I can never know if its his. And its indestructible too…” She went back to her feather. “If I could just…”
“You do know there exists a spell for that?”
“Yes, but I… heard something about this being better. From… someone… I know. It’s supposed to magic freer.”
Andromeda nodded, a bit confused. She barely knew anyone who preferred to practice spells windlessly, the ability usually emerged with years of use of particular spells. She could only do a few household charms like that, and she had practised since before Hogwarts thanks to her mother’s beliefs about “wifely skills”. The only one she knew who consistently performed magic like that and showed a preference for it was-
“And perhaps include your assistant Andromeda, she seems quite smart.”
Andromeda wasn’t a creative person. She would not engage in such creative thoughts. Thoughts which would have had no basis in reality anyways.
“Hermione, I have a rather unconventional task for you. Wednesday you will go to a meeting with my cousin Regulus in my place. We’re supposed to develop a workforce for the Empress’ new safety initiative, and I believe you’re more creatively suited to that than I am.” And less inclined to spend the whole time complaining with Regulus and Corban. “I will give you some notes, but you have quite a lot of freedom here. I trust you to be sensible.”
With that she left for her personal office and its cabinet of port wine. She always needed that after the Empress’ speeches.
28th July, 1999
Hermione awoke anticipatory of the meeting with Mr. Black and Lord Yaxley today. When she started working for Madame Black she had never thought she would get to influence such big decisions. Of course, due to the difference in their status Mr. Black and Lord Yaxley would likely get to make all the final decisions, but still. She got to do something that felt important.
Her dream outcome would be that they accepted her plan A wholesale. It involved creating an entirely new department under the DMLE whose workers were supplied by the Labour Force. It would give fifteen people employee status at the ministry force, and while they would stay in the Labour Force housing, she had traded that particular perk of hers for a higher wage for the workers. That way, the money would make its way back to the whole Labour Force. If even one more person would get an opportunity like her from this plan, she would consider it successful.
She had awoken early to continue her fight with the object that had once been a quill. Hermione didn’t get what it was she wasn’t getting. She had the flow of magic, she had the visualization, she had succeeded before. Why wasn’t it working? Was this all a joke from the Empress’ side? To humiliate her, make her realize that muggleborns could never achieve the level of magic she could, as a descendant of a Hogwarts founder. But then why go to all this trouble?
There was only one thing to do, keep trying.
She showed up to the meeting room fifteen minutes early, expecting to be the first one there. That way she would be able to read her notes one last time and calm herself down. It would be okay, she was going to meet with the Empress every Friday for the foreseeable future, she could handle the spymaster of Britannia. Instead, someone else was there when she arrived.
“Lord Black?” She curtseyed as was expected. Perhaps he had had a meeting here previously, or maybe he was joining them.
“Hello, Miss Morgana, was it? My brother claims he had more important things to do, so I will be standing in for him. I assume the same thing is true for my dear cousin?”
“Indeed, Lord Black, I was told Lord Yaxley was also coming?”
Lord Black shook his head.
“Nah, sent a note telling us how much money we had. But let’s get started. Did you prepare anything?”
Hermione nodded, and started pulling out all her notes, including the budget and synopsis of her favoured model, ready to present why it was the best. However, Lord Black interrupted her.
“Great, because I haven’t prepared anything.” He grabbed her budget and looked through it. “We even have money left over with this one, amazing. That’s settled then, we’ll use the rest on… let me think….”
Hermione blinked. He had accepted it just like that. Had he even read the synopsis? Before she could be too happy, he started reading through it. Surely he would deny it now, when he saw that-
“Why don’t we spend the rest on five more workers? We can never have too many people ensuring our collective safety after all.” He winked at her, and once again Hermione wondered why he was doing this. She still owed him from the Lisha Ball, and now this was another way she was indebted to him. But it would be worth it, if she could hoist 20 people with her into the ministry. “Now, this meeting was scheduled for an hour more, what say you we get ice cream at the beach? My treat.”
Just what enigma drove this man? He was already standing up, extending his arm for sidealong apparation as if her agreement was a given. It was, she supposed, not only because she had never seen the sea, but also because she had been raised to never deny a lord.
“I would be delighted, Lord Black, thank you.”
She grabbed his arm and he apparated them away. Hermione had only been apparated a few times in her life, but she didn’t remember it to be this bad. Sure, she had been nauseous afterwards, but this time she was certain that she would- she threw up directly into the sand dune they had appeared behind. And then she threw up again. And again. After the third time, she was sure there was puke stuck in her hair, and the smell was awful. Good Merlin, this was fucking mortifying.
Lord Black gave her a sheepish smile before vanishing every trace of Hermione’s incident. Or three incidents, she supposed.
“Sorry ‘bout that. Been told my skills need some polishing, but the guy I used to side-apparate a lot had a strong stomach, you could stay. You remind me of him, a lot actually. He was a smarty-pant who thought he could save the world too.” A sombre look passed over Lord Black’s face before he went back to his usual unserious self. “But. Nothing cures sidealong sickness like ice cream, I’m certain.” He didn’t seem very certain, but Hermione wasn’t turning down free ice cream. Or the sea.
Lord Black began to guide them towards a little hut on the beach with a large sign that simply proclaimed “ICE CREAM”. She had seen the sea in pictures and paintings, but in real life, it was mesmerizing. The waves licked lazily up and down the sand and rocks lying on the shoreline, a breeze blowing through her hair and making the wave peaks foam. It wasn’t a blue like she had imagined, but dark, almost grey, no black. But then she looked again, and it was indeed a dark blue. The wind played with her hair, free of puke as it was, and Hermione realized she had fallen behind Lord Black’s determined pursuit of ice cream.
She reached him just as he reached the short queue, and she realized they stood out quite a bit. Not only because everyone else was wearing more relaxed clothes, but because those clothes were… very strange. They were even getting a few weird looks for their formal getup, and Hermione supposed there weren’t anyone else dressed in something that went below their knees. And all of the men were wearing trousers.
“Lord Black, where is this exactly?” She asked, looking warily at a woman who barely even wore underwear.
“A lovely beach north of Blackpool, Blackpool proper is always so crowded, besides, this place has amazing ice cream, that friend I told you about showed me once, many years ago.”
“Oh, okay… but… why are all the people dressed like…”
Lord Black looked confusedly at her. “Like what, like muggles? That’s because they are muggles, they make amazing ice cream for some reason. The only magical ice cream worth anything is Fortescue’s and I didn’t fancy a Daily Prophet headline. Can’t you just hear it, “Lord Black caught in illicit affair with cousin’s assistant. See all the pictures on page eight. Numerological analysis of their ideal wedding dates on page twelve.”
Hermione laughed at that, but she was a bit distracted by the whole, seeing the sea and a muggle area for the first time in her life. She had only seen them on her short morning walks, and she had never walked among them like she did now. Perhaps her parents were here? It was a silly thought, but…
“You look like you’ve never seen a muggle before.” Lord Black remarked.
“Well, I haven’t, Lady Malfoy doesn’t exactly take us out on excursions to meet our parents or anything.” Was that too bitter sounding? They had reached the front of the line, and Hermione ordered one scoop of chocolate, and one scoop of raspberry sorbet. Lord Black looked at her with that sombre melancholic look again, but she ignored it.
“So, you’ve never been to the muggle world? Like, never?” He asked, perhaps trying to distract himself from the sad face he was making.
“Well, I suppose I was born here. Or, somewhere on the isles, don’t know where.”
“Really? I heard a rumour you were from Bristol.”
“What?! Who told you that? How did they know?” Hermione almost dropped her ice cream spoon in shock. She was from Bristol? How did anyone know that, she didn’t know that. Once again, she remembered the security clearance that she had. And Harry’s desire to know more. Her own desire to know more.
“I mean, don’t trust it too much, just something I heard at some party. You made quite a stir at the Council of Lords meeting, guess a few people looked up your file after that. You haven’t done that?”
He looked genuinely baffled why she hadnt gone and requested a file she wasn’t entitled to request. Perhaps they didn’t look too closely at it, but Hermione still remembered Madame Black’s stern warning. She wouldn’t be sacked just because she couldn’t keep her nose to herself… but then again, what was being here worth if she didn’t get to enjoy it. The answer was obvious. She had just managed to create employment for twenty of her fellow labour force workers. Her own enjoyment could never be above that.
When Hermione made it back to her after she had once again thrown up three times, and Lord Black had once again sheepishly cleaned it up while apologizing for his horrible sidealong skills, there was a letter on her desk. This, in itself, was a core part of her job. The strange thing was that it was addressed to her. There were few people who addressed letters to her, and the handwriting was neither the Empress’ nor Yvonne. Hermione wondered what it said about her life that half the people she expected letters from could have her killed by a mere wave of her little finger.
She opened it cautiously, but given that it had made it to her desk, it wasn’t likely to be anything more harmful than a badly smelling plant sap, which was the worst she had experienced so far.
Dear Miss Morgana,
I am writing to you, as I would like to thank you for sparing me and my family the public humiliation that would have ensued, had you not stopped the Council of Lords from publishing that statement.
I apologize for not reaching out earlier, but my recovery took its time, as did the delivery of my son. I have named him Florizel from the same winter’s tale which I assumes gives you your name.
It would delight me ever so much if you would join me for tea on Friday the sixth of August at 5PM. My floo address is Selwyn Manor.
Yours, Malene Selwyn.
While Hermione felt sorry for the child that he had to be named Florizel, she more so wondered what winter’s tale Malene Selwyn was talking about. Hermione hadn’t even known there was such a thing a seasonal tales, let alone one with her name in it. And Malene Selwyn wanted her to visit at what was perhaps the most inconvenient time of her whole week. Why did she never know anything or control anything? It certainly felt like that. And she couldn’t even get the blasted fucking feather to fly.
In her frustration, she once again slashed her wand at the feather, and just like on Monday it jumped up again. What was the difference between those times and all the other bloody fucking times she had tried to make it fly? She slashed her wand again, wanting to be able to control, to know just this one part of her life. It worked again, miraculously.
Hermione took a deep breath, prepared the spell and, of course, it suddenly didn’t work anymore. Wasn’t her wand supposed to be amazing at channelling magic? She thought back to the instances, she had been frustrated, angry even. But that couldn’t be it, that had happened multiple times more than it had worked. The whole slashing her wand at the feather couldn’t be it either. It clearly didn’t continue to work. The two times, she had been angry, she had lashed out, her magic had lashed out. With much more power than she usually put into her spells. That was it, she realized.
The Empress had said that spells reduced the need for raw magical power.
She pulled herself together and tried again, visualizing the feather lifting itself through her power of will, and of magic. This time, she poured in much more power than she was sued to. It was strange, at the beginning it almost felt like stuffing more into a drawer than it could fit. But it worked! The feather slowly lifted itself and bobbed up and down in the air. At least she finally had control over one aspect of this mess that was her life.
Notes:
I will say, Mary thinks she knows more about people in her service than she actually does. This woman’s hubris, you guys.
I grew up close to the sea, so I don’t think there’s been a time where I didn’t know what it was like. But this is what I think seeing the sea for the first time is like.
Chapter 10: In which introspection starts to happen, but not for the character who needs it the most
Notes:
Omg, ten chapters!! I really want to thank people for commenting; it makes my day every time. The number go up dopamine pales in comparison to the comment dopamine(it’s still a great source of it tho)I’m so exited that people are following this, like what???
In honour of ten chapters I’ve also updated and adjusted the tags a bit to be less “everything I could think about in the moment” and more “will this accurately allow people to filter for it and determine if they want to read it”. This also means that I’ve updated the rating to E. I’m not sure if there will be anything E yet, but probably, and I want to have the creative freedom to that. Sorry if any of you feel that you don’t want to read the fic with that in mind, but I thought I would be better to do it now than jump scaring people thirty chapters in.
Anyways, with that I just want to say thank you guys for your engagement!!! And here’s the chapter.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
July 30th, 1999
Hermione had spent both Thursday and Friday waiting for someone to discover her and Lord Black’s plan. It felt like she had constantly been on edge, while also wondering what to tell Malene Selwyn. Every time the door opened, she was certain it would be a member of the inner circle here to deliver her death sentence for smuggling the initiative into their meeting. But nothing happened, not even a little memo admonishing her for disobeying standard protocol. Not until Friday at four pm when Madame Black called her into her office.
Hermione immediately knew something was wrong when she saw Madame Black’s face. It was stern, but sorrowful too.
“Is everything alright, Madame Black?” Hermione asked, standing in front of the other woman’s desk. Madame Black shuffled some papers around, and Hermione recognized them as her plan. Her stomach dropped, it felt like someone had punched her.
“… Hermione. When I assigned this task to you it was because I believed you to be a more creatively talented person than me. However, I did not expect you to do… this. This plan cannot be implemented.” Madame Black held a pause, and it felt like an eternity passed between them. Like her life would be spent at this desk, waiting for her sentence to be delivered.
“I can understand why you would attempt this, believe me, I can.” Hermione didn’t really believe a member of the House of Black could understand her motivations, but she nodded anyways.
“What you are doing here, it is the equivalent of asking the Slytherins to let the Hufflepuffs live with them, like giving them some of their house points.” Hermione didn’t really understand what that meant, and despite Madame Black’s earlier assurance that she was allowed to ask questions this did not seem like a time when that applied.
“The plan, it is good from many perspectives. Financially it is much cheaper than hiring citizens to do it. I do understand that. But you cannot publicly elevate twenty muggleborn people to this level. Look Hermione,” Madame Black put her head in her hands. “You are a very special case, and one I am forced to defend everywhere I go. I am not your enemy in this, I really do wish I could sign off on it. But I cannot, this would ruin both of our careers. Please have something else ready on Monday.”
With that, Hermione was dismissed, but she couldn’t focus on her work again. Everything was spinning around in her hand, she felt like she was going to throw up. She wished she would throw up so this feeling would just be over. She had just wanted to help. She had really just wanted to do something good, something that meant she wasn’t the only one who got all of this decadence. She really shouldn’t have hoped for anything, should she?
All the things going wrong were spinning in her head, jumping from one thing to another never staying focused on one problem long enough for her to solve it. The plan, what was she going to do about Malene Selwyn? The empress was coming in an hour, everything was just… wrong. Why wasn’t she able to control anything about her life?! And when someone finally gave her control, she went and ruined it for herself!
Hermione tried to get back to work, but everything was swimming around and the Empress’ arrival was only moving closer. She needed to calm down, she needed to fix these problems, she needed to-
Madame Black’s floo roared, indicating that she had left. Was it really five already? Her question was answered by the immediate dramatic entrance of the Empress. Hermione was pulled from her woes directly into performance mode.
Get up, curtsey, greet with “your Majesty”, wonder if she made her cape move like that on purpose.
“Hello Hermione, did you practice like we agreed?”
The Empress, no Mary, sat herself on the couch and stared at her intently. Hermione took a deep breath and pulled out her wand. She let it hang at her side like the Empress had made her the first time and let magic reach out towards what was by now a very mangled quill.
Breathe in and breathe out. She had managed to get the magic pretty consistent, but well… not in front of “Mary”. She poured magic out, and in front of her eyes the feather started to lift. It was magnificent, she controlled it.
“Adequate. It seems you indeed have the nature needed to master this magic. Now, first we will work on giving you a greater range of motion and working with heavier objects. I have been working on a lesson plan; these lessons will last from five to six every Friday. There will certainly be times when I am not able to attend. In those cases you will be informed. Before December you should be able to perform charms and transfiguration on an OWL level.” At Hermione’s shocked look, she smiled. “Yes, magnificent is it not, this method gives you a much… deeper understanding of magic. Though I will be setting a fast pace, and I expect you to keep up with it. Now, make the feather go in a circle.”
Hermione did as she was ordered and by the end of the lesson she had made her whole desk move around the room. While Mary did not seem like the person to give out praise she had ended their lesson with something that wasn’t entirely scathing.
“Hm, it seems we may be able to skip some lessons. Your ability to expand and apply concepts is not entirely horrid. We shall see. I will send you reading for next time on the theoretical nature of magical kinematics, specifically on moulding their shapes. You should also master the techniques we practised today with multiple objects at the same time. Good day.”
Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, her head was still attached, and she wasn’t locked in a dungeon somewhere. Small victories.
When Hermione made it home, she decided she had to write to Malene Selwyn. She couldn’t let it lay and she wrote to important people all the time for her job. There was no reason she shouldn’t be able to do so for herself. And Malene Selwyn had seemed pretty reasonable in her letter, she should be willing to extend her invitation by an hour, right?
She did it before she could think too much about the consequences, explaining to the other woman that she had a prior commitment that wouldn’t allow her to arrive before six, but that she was available the whole evening and weekend. That was a reasonable thing to write, wasn’t it?
If she had written on behalf of Madame Black, no one would have thought the request to be unreasonable, but purebloods often forgot that other people had a life outside of their interactions with them. It made sense to them that Madame Black could have a life filled with plans and engagements, but that Hermione had anything to do but work and service them was something she constantly had to explain when she had been in the labour force. Not that they had understood it.
Even now, as an employee, many of her colleagues didn’t seem to understand that. And while Hermione would admit her life wasn’t exactly filled with social engagements, that was far from giving everyone the right to her time. The worst part was that it was rare for anyone in the labour force to be able to deny the citizens requests for the most ridiculous things. Every time, Hermione was afraid they would stir up trouble and get her fired. She had grown more secure over time, but you never knew who secretly had influence enough to remove the person they saw as merely a speck of dirt on their doorstep.
The fear hadn’t been too bad when she had just been a normal member of the labour force. She hadn’t stood out and it was doubtful anyone would think of her presence enough to cause her trouble. But now, well it seemed the whole ministry hated her presence. Hermione hadn’t known Madame Black had had to argue with people over her presence. Was it really that bad? And then she had almost ruined it by her plans for the security system. She wanted to make a difference for her peers, give them the same opportunities. But it seemed that when she tried, she hit a wall. Lord Black had been understanding, but he wasn’t really involved with the ministry except through his family and by arranging the galas.
Hermione wanted to make the most of her position, but she also didn’t want to lose it all in the process. She knew the loss was inevitable, in less than a year she would have to go back to the labour force. But she also couldn’t justify risking it on silly things like researching her own past. If she was going to lose it over something, she would never forgive herself if it was something selfish. Even if she didn’t manage to elevate anyone else, she would at least have the money and a wand, which was more than she had ever dreamt about.
Why was the world like this?! Hermione thought of Katie and her anger at the purebloods. Perhaps she was right, no. That wasn’t a perhaps, Katie was right. But there was nothing they could do about it. Hermione thought of Lady Malfoy, who raised generation after generation of them in her centres where they slept ten to a room before going back to her glorious manor like Hermione had seen in the papers. It couldn’t be right that the world worked like that. She would bet the people would be more prepared to accept an even more expensive system if she just said the Empress had invented a magically autonomous surveillance system than if the muggleborns could do it at half the price. Wouldn’t that be a hoot, muggleborns working in secret, pretending their work was the wonder of magical innovation?
It wasn’t like anyone would actually accept that… though who would have to know? The Empress, Madame Black, some person to supervise them and… well, there were probably more. But maybe that was the idea. Don’t make it known that the work was done by the labour force and everyone would be much more prepared to accept the exact same quality of work.
August 2nd, 1999
When Madame Black arrived in her office Monday at 9 it was to a memorandum by Hermione outlining exactly how the deception would take place. She had made a budget, found secrecy contracts for everyone involved, even found candidates for people who could supervise. Along with Madame Blacks arrival was a letter to Hermione from Malene Selwyn. Instead of tea, she was invited for dinner, did she have any allergies or was she perhaps a vegetarian?
Just as Hermione had written out a short note thanking Malene Selwyn for her understanding, Madame Black called her in. She could guess what it would be about, and her palms were so sweaty she was sure they left moisture on the doorhandle.
“So. Instead of changing anything you just decided to lie to not just the public but, according to these plans, the entirety of the council of lords too?”
Hermione swallowed.
“I believe this solution to be the best for the nation, if her Majesty agrees, of course. It is up to her Majesty who is let into the specific details of this course of actions.”
She had yet to fully master the language of diplomacy she so often heard used around the ministry. “It is up to her Majesty” this and “It is simply a suggestion” that. But she was practising, and it seemed like an essential skill for any ministry worker.
“I see. I will present it to her Majesty along with my cousin. I do think it is a… practical plan. But if her Majesty questions it I will not hesitate to point to you as its origin. Do you still wish to proceed?”
Did she want to attempt to give twenty of her peers an actual salary. There was no question.
“Yes, Madame Black.”
August 6th, 1999
Mary had found herself in abnormally lifted spirits this Friday, to a degree where she suspected her employees may have noticed. She tried to keep her appearance toward her office neutral and not let her moods affect their work, so the fact that the head of her economic office had determined that today was the day she would ask for a raise was concerning. Those requests were usually given to her in writing right before the individual left for at least one week of holiday.
It was frankly very alarming that she would find herself in such a good mood. Whatever could have caused it? The talks with Russia were on track, but they were not exceeding any expectations. In fact, most things were going just like she had predicted them to. Andromeda, Regulus, and Corban had even managed to come up with a model for the new surveillance system even if they had outsourced it to Miss Morgana.
Oh yes, she was teaching Hermione today. Was that the explanation? This was only the third time, was she already looking that much forward to it?
Mary had created a lesson plan she was rather proud of, as it introduced the matter of changing something’s physical form through a series of increasingly abstract tasks which would hopefully end with Hermione coming to the realization that she was not restricted by any law of nature and could in fact make the feather into a pig, or even create one from thin air if she so wished.
Afterwards she was going to dinner with Barty and Regulus at Bellatrix’ coastal cottage. That cottage had the most delicious food she had ever tasted, and she suspected that the kitchen had one elf whose only task was to cook up the most wonderful roasted salmon any person could imagine.
And it was a Friday too. While Mary had not known the concept of weekends since her time at Hogwarts, she would not be in the office for the next two days as she had managed to make enough time for some personal research into the dense crystal she had received as a personal gift from the Russian ambassador. Why they had decided to have half of it made into an opulent set of jewellery she didn’t know. There were much better uses for the miracle material than that, though Mary supposed it did serve as quite the display of wealth. Perhaps she would wear it at the next gala.
But all in all, her good mood made sense, she was practically going on holiday. But first, she was going to teach Hermione.
The lovely thing about having created the wards of the ministry was that she was intrinsically tied to them. It allowed her to make dramatic entrances, like entering a room just as someone had left it. There were other benefits, of course, like being able to find anyone on the premises if she cared enough to look, another skill useful when one wanted to make dramatic entrances.
Hermione got up and curtseyed as soon as she entered, before addressing her as “your Majesty”.
“Hello Hermione,” Mary sat herself on the couch. Andromeda was very skilled at interior design, and somehow always managed to find the most comfortable furniture. “Today we will be moulding various shapes, though first I would like to see how your homework went.”
Hermione demonstrated her ability to juggle five small objects in various constellations and Mary was satisfied. While she wouldn’t tell the girl out of fear of her becoming lazy or letting her ability get to her head, Mary had never seen someone take to magic like this. Perhaps the way they taught magic at the educational centres had somehow made Hermione more susceptible to this way of doing magic.
Mary had tried to teach some of her followers throughout the years, but they were always lacking in talent. She knew now that it was not her ability to teach the subject. Hermione was truly a model student. She had been willing to give the girl at least three lessons to even gain the ability to manipulate the feather in a limited range of motion, but at the pace she was going, they would be finished with the lesson twenty minutes early. Hermione took to the lessons like a starving man took to food, devouring them before expectantly waiting for more.
“Good,” Mary commented on the fact that the girl had just wholly reshaped the feather into a paperweight. A quite stylish one too. That had originally been the end of this lesson, with conjuration for next time. “Now try making a copy from your magic alone.”
Hermione blinked at her. “I have no idea how to go about that, you- Mary.”
“Really? Think about what you just did. Is there much difference between turning a feather into a paperweight and turning nothing into a paperweight?”
She appeared to think about it. “Well, yes. One thing is a transformation of sorts. Something is already there, but conjuring it, you make something out of nothing. That… it seems to go directly against the laws of the world.”
“Indeed, however, you have just made a feather into coloured glass. As for the laws of nature, I do believe the two to be equally in conflict with those. Do not think of conjuration and transfiguration as different things. You have already managed to conjure a paperweight out of nothing that resembled a paperweight. You can do it again.”
Mary leaned back and watched the girl work within herself, a concentrated look on her face. She had expected her to perhaps produce something, perhaps even vaguely resembling glass at the end of the lesson. The farthest she’d ever brought a student before was to about this point, and Bellatrix had barely managed to conjure anything without a spell.
It did not appear that different to usual wordless magic, but magic without a spell was radically different in its inner workings. While spellless magic simply shaped according to the users will, normal wordless casting still required its user to go from a spell they knew and usually had years of practice with.
Bellatrix had made a clump of unidentifiable matter appear after weeks of trying, yet by the end of the lesson, Hermione had two identical glass paperweights. Was it perhaps because the girl had no real framework for performing magic? Or was she simply a natural prodigy? Mary said goodbye, but not before she had pocketed the paperweight for further examination.
Hermione was exhausted after the lesson. It felt like every time she had accomplished what Mary had wanted, there was another task right after it. At least she had a paperweight now. It was made of clear glass with a pink flower in the middle, the design one she had seen on the desk of the matron of her first educational centre. It had shone even when there was no sunlight and was animated to make the petals move. Perhaps she could learn to make it do that.
After Mary had left Hermione made her way to the floos to go to the dinner. She had worn her best dress and hoped that it would not be an affair formal enough to require floor length gowns. Again, you never knew with the purebloods. While she had felt a bit overdressed that morning, she did not have time to go home and change, and after spending an hour in the company of the Empress she always felt underdressed.
When she exited the fireplace, she did so with much more elegance than she had had a few months ago, and she even had the capacity to observe the room she had entered into without having to make her legs stop wobbling first.
It was clearly a room solely dedicated to hosting the two floos of the manor. It was decorated in a relatively modern style, but the furniture was, even to Hermione’s untrained eye, obviously much older. A bell had rung softly when she stepped out, and immediately a house elf appeared to take her coat and snap his fingers to make any remnant of soot disappear. She doubted the house elf had ever held a cheaper coat than hers.
As soon as the elf had popped away, Malene Selwyn herself entered. Hermione had seen the woman in a newspaper once, but it had been a photo of her before her family attempted to murder her. While St. Mungo’s had done a wonderful job, there were still some burn scars which had not been there previously.
Hermione curtseyed to the woman as was proper. She was the heir of a lordship and a lady of a noble family, and even a commoner with a citizenship would have done that.
“Thank you for inviting me into your home Miss Selwyn”
“Oh, no need for that Miss Morgana. It is my pleasure to have the woman who may very well have saved me and my son’s life visiting my home. Will you join me for drinks in the parlour?”
Hermione followed after the other woman, admiring the manor as they walked. It was mind boggling that all of this space would be for just one family to live in. They arrived at a room the size of Hermione’s apartment decorated in sage green.
“What would you like to drink, Miss Morgana?”
Hermione didn’t know what was appropriate to ask for. In the labour force they rarely made real drinks, and she doubted asking either for a shot or a beer was appropriate. She didn’t want to just ask for water either, but she was saved by her hostess sensing her distress.
“I always enjoy having Gin and Tonics before dinner, they really loosen up the tastebuds, I think. Would you like one too?”
“Yes please, thank you.”
Two identical drinks appeared on the table immediately and Hermione took a sip of hers. That was really good.
“My grandfather, Lord Selwyn will be joining us for dinner, but I’m afraid the rest of my family is… indisposed. My son usually goes to sleep at seven, you see.”
Hermione supposed that was one way to phrase the state of the Selwyn family affairs. The aftermath had been kept out of the papers for the most part, so Hermione didn’t know exactly what had happened. It seemed impolite to ask.
“Of course,” she said instead. “How old is he?”
“About nine weeks. He was born two months early, as I needed some procedures that could not be delayed. The healers said they were incompatible with gravidity.” Hermione supposed that was a fancy word for pregnancy. Perhaps that was a bit of a taboo among the purebloods.
“I see, is he doing alright under the circumstances?”
“Oh yes, he’s needed fewer treatments than me, though that really isn’t a difficult achievement.”
Hermione wondered what they were going to talk about if they were supposed to dance around the reason why she was here. It would be an awkward few hours then, especially if they only were three people.
“May I ask you a frank question, Miss Selwyn?” She decided to ask. When the other woman nodded, she continued. “Why am I here? Why did you invite me?”
“Well, not only did you save the Selwyns from even more public humiliation as would have happened if the ministry had had to retract a statement about our innocence. But I suspect you saved the life of my son and I. My father and brother were going to make their attempt once again that very evening, and I doubt I would have survived their attentions twice. Of course, my mother did refuse to participate that second time, though I suspect that more because she found murder unladylike. They have all been disowned, in case you’re wondering. There are some other Selwyn branches, of course, but for the main branch we are only three people left.” She gave Hermione a little smile. “I suppose that was one way to break the ice. But I am eternally grateful to you, and I think I asked you here to find out a way to repay you for what you have done for the Selwyns. And perhaps to see the woman brave enough to interrupt a meeting of the council of lords for the sake of her employer’s public image.”
Hermione felt a bit uncomfortable with the praise. “I really didn’t intend to. I simply wanted to attempt the door handle and then hand the papers to whoever opened the door. I didn’t expect it to just… open. And it was my very first week at the job, so I really didn’t want to mess anything up.”
“I still think it was very brave. I’m afraid of the fact that I will be going to those meetings one day, and I will be one of the lords. Luckily the Selwyns sit at an angle unlikely to make prolonged eye contact with the Empress. May Circe bless her, but she’s terrifying.”
“The way her eyes look at you, it so… imposing.” Hermione agreed. “Of course, that is a great trait for an Empress to have.” She hastily added to ensure that it wouldn’t be seen as critique of the Empress.
“Oh yes, you know, my father actually toyed with the idea of having my brother propose to the Empress. It is laughable, really, firstly that the Empress would ever marry, secondly that she would marry a Selwyn, like we have anything to offer her. And…” She trailed off.
“What is it?” Hermione asked.
“Well, its just a baseless rumour, really, one that I shouldn’t be spreading around. But, well, perhaps you’ve heard it too?”
Hermione had only heard the one rumour about any marriages in the Empress’ vicinity, but that one didn’t seem appropriate. However, perhaps that wasn’t what she was being asked?
“I do think I have, though you may have to remind me of the details?”
“Oh, of course. Well, the Empress has had no public relations of any sort. But… a rumour has spread amongst the upper circles, and I do not know who started it, that perhaps… she has certain preferences…” It was clear Miss Selwyn was struggling to make words so inappropriate about the Empress cross her lips. Hermione knew she shouldn’t be listening, that whatever the preference was it would be swimming in her brain the next time she met the Empress. “… towards other… well, the, uhmm… fairer sex, if you understand?” Miss Selwyn took a large gulp of her drink. “Not that there would be anything wrong if it was true, plenty of public figures have public same sex relationships.
Hermione nodded, more affected by the rumour than she had thought she would be. Perhaps best hide any thoughts about the Empress away for now.
“Do you plan on becoming a politically active house lord?” She asked to divert from the topic. In any other conversation that would have been the equivalent of pouring fire-starter potion over the whole room. Now she just started a marginally smaller fire to divert both of their attentions from how close they were to discussing… things which should not be discussed. Ever.
“I don’t know, my grandfather has not been at all. He really prefers his study, though I think I will attempt to see if the council is something I am interested in. However, for now I will focus on learning more about the inner workings of the House of Selwyn.”
Hermione nodded, and they moved to less flammable topics. Miss Selwyn was an engaging conversation partner and apparently had a great interest in magical history. They were still discussing the topic when they went to dinner and Hermione was introduced to Lord Selwyn. The discussion was more Hermione asking questions and Miss Selwyn excitedly answering them, but it was still a very interesting conversation.
“That was how I met Florizel’s father, actually. I went to castle which is now owned by muggles, and met him walking around in the gardens.”
Hermione looked over to Lord Selwyn who looked like he was in a different world entirely, but had picked up on Florizel’s name being mentioned.
“Oh Florizel, yes, I am certain he will be a great quidditch player. I can see it in the crystals.”
“Crystals, Lord Selwyn?” Hermione asked. Miss Selwyn looked like she was about to cut him off, but Hermione was interested. Divination had not been covered at all at the centres she had went to. It wouldn’t be useful for them, they had been told.
“Oh yes, they tell all sorts of stories, Miss Morgana. I have recently been very keen on getting my hands on some dense crystals in rosa. To look more into the affairs of the heart. Though with the embargos it is terribly difficult to obtain. I did see recently, in my crystals from the bottom of the English Channel, that I would obtain one before my death. Would you like me to do a reading for you, Miss Morgana? It may take some weeks; I would need to find the perfect stones.” He said this rather wistfully, as if his life would be incomplete without dense crystals in rosa. What were those anyways?
“What is a dense crystal, Lord Selwyn?”
“Oh, why nothing but the very future of magical society my girl.” At her shocked look he elaborated. “They are incredible at not only conducting magic, but also creating incredibly complex magic, and then transforming and transferring it to its intended destination. It allows magical constructions like never seen before. Of course, that doesn’t exactly do us good here in Britannia. Only the Kalmar Union, a few of the Inuit societies, and Russia have enough deposits that they’re willing to talk about them, and only the Kalmar Union is officially trading it internationally. And the Kalmar Union are not trading with Britannia currently.”
“Oh, why not?” While Hermione had picked up some of the grander lines of international affairs in her work, law enforcement rarely interacted with international affairs. She knew there was a woman responsible for providing criminal records for travel permits, but she rarely needed help and didn’t go to Madame Black if she did.
“Why, the travel embargos, of course. Do you not follow politics at all? Quite a few of what used to be our closest neighbours have abandoned us in pursuit of riding their moral high horse. As if the Scandinavians are any better with their træl. And the Russians and their… what was it again krepostnoy krest'yanin”
Miss Selwyn looked like she wanted to argue, but the dessert had been served. Hermione rarely ate sweeter dishes as the ministry food programme had a great focus on serving healthy food. That said food was far from delicious didn’t matter.
As such, dessert was a rare treat and one she always made sure to enjoy to its full extent. The fact that she had had both ice cream and chocolate mousse in such a short while was truly extraordinary.
When they were done with the food, she said her goodbyes to Lord Selwyn who seemed very anxious to get back to his crystals. He did make her fill out a rather lengthy form so he could choose the perfect crystals to examine her future, most of which she couldn’t answer. But it seemed the knowledge only mattered if she herself knew it. “It is all about perspectives, yes, all about perceptions.” He had mumbled before shuffling through a door Hermione hadn’t noticed. Hermione doubted that the Sun’s position at her birth would be significant either way, but it would have been nice to know she supposed.
Miss Selwyn followed her back to the floo and summoned an elf with her coat.
“It was very nice of you to visit, and while I have still not found a way to repay you for your great service, I am afraid I have come to owe you even more, as your company was immensely enjoyable. You must understand, for the last few months I have only had my son and my grandfather for company, and while I love them both dearly, they are not exactly what one would call great masters of conversation…” she hesitated a bit. “Not one of my acquaintances have come to see Florizel, not after they discovered his origins. The heir to a Sacred Family, yet he had no blessings at his birth but mine and his Lord’s. Sorry for talking of such sad subjects, but I may invite you at some other point if you are not opposed?”
“Not at all, thank you for your hospitality Miss Selwyn.” With that, Hermione went through the fireplace to go back home and once again wonder at her life. There was no room to be ungrateful when she got to learn esoteric magics and eat dessert and all of her friends had to stay trapped in the basement.
What were those words Lord Selwyn had said anyways? What had caused other countries to shun Britannia publically? It had to be something pretty bad if they truly refused to trade at all with them, right? What did Hermione know, maybe foreign cultures took great offence at Britannia having a female Empress. They had certainly only been told bad things about foreigners throughout her education.
Notes:
My math homework: =-=
Me: 0.0
My math homework: =-=?
Me: the complex plane can wait, I’ve got a fic to update. I’m not scared of my math teacher
My math homework, very much not believing me: your death, I guessAnyways, maybe the problem is less that the Empress is a woman and more that she kidnaps infants systematically.
Chapter 11: In which denial is not a thing, no sire, not at all
Notes:
In case you guys were worrying for my safety I also managed to finish my math homework. Complex numbers is actually a really fun topic lol, I don’t get the warnings.
Also, if you’re a person whose eyes glaze over when you read the dates, we skipped a month to get stuff moving and avoid this thing becoming a behemoth.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
September 11th, 1999
Hermione always liked Saturdays as they allowed her to spend time with her friends under less time constraints. While the labour force had a lunch break of the same length as they always did, Penelope enforced it less strictly than usual, as she herself was less strictly enforced.
She had bought some cookies in the cafeteria on the DMLE floor for her friends. Currently Harry, Katie and Dean were happily munching with Lavender already having finished hers. Perhaps she found it a bit too quiet, because she started on her favourite topic, Ron Weasley, her beloved.
“He asked me about marriage recently, you know?” She directed this at Hermione, and from the others’ faces she could see that they had heard this specific fact more than once. “I did tell him that I wouldn’t marry without having my citizenship restored. I know it really wouldn’t make that big of a difference, but I would like the marriage certificate to show that I have a family background too, that I wasn’t just no one who became a Weasley…” She seemed to realize what she was saying, and her voice died out. Not for long though. “But anyways, I think my Ronniekins is looking into how to apply for me to get my citizenship restored early, but don’t tell him I said that. He’s very talented at paperwork, my Ronniekins, he knows all the systems and tricks.”
“Anyways, Lavender,” Harry cut her off. “Why don’t you tell Hermione about the weird things which have been going on with Lady Malfoy recently?”
Her face lit up with excitement. “Oh yes, Hermione, it’s very strange. You know Lady Malfoy sometimes comes to meet with Penelope about the new workers? Well, recently she has been coming down here a lot. I even saw her walking around outside the housing building the other day. Perhaps they’re updating it.”
Hermione had an inkling as to what this may be about, but she wasn’t sure she was allowed to say. The whole deal was that it was a secret that there were even people involved in it. No, she wouldn’t give this whole thing even the slightest chance of being ruined. She could deny herself the joy of sharing her achievement with her friends.
“As if,” Katie spoke up. “The day they give us anything new is the day the old thing is bad enough that we can’t work ourselves out over here. No, I think they must be expanding us, adding even more workers. Which would honestly be absurd, we already have so many unnecessary tasks. As if it wouldn’t be more efficient for everyone if Daphne Greengrass just made a magical copy of her minutes instead of having me write one out physically. Not that they’re worth copying.”
Hermione giggled at that. She still attended the assistants’ meetings sporadically, mostly at Rhiannon’s request. They all followed a formula in which someone would inevitably have to side-along Hermione to a place that wouldn’t have let her in under any other circumstances. At least she hadn’t met anyone as horrible at side-along as Lord Black. Every meeting Miss Greengrass would find a way to remind everyone that she was the daughter of a lord, and without fail she would join a conversation Hermione was having to steer it in a direction where she could mention an interaction she had with the Empress recently. Was she still bitter about that meeting? That seemed absurd.
Hermione didn’t really have that many interactions with the Empress, and if she had she wouldn’t go around bragging about them like Daphne did. She talked to Mary every Friday, of course, but that didn’t really count. Besides, Daphne didn’t seem the type to enjoy a philosophical discussion on the nature of vanishing thing, the subject of the last lesson. But what did Hermione know, perhaps there was a very reflective person hidden underneath Daphne’s veneer of vanity.
“Or perhaps,” Dean suggested, “Lady Malfoy has started a secret friendship with one of our fellow workers.” Hermione could guess as to the nature of Dean’s suggested friendship and was suddenly reminded of Malene Selwyn’s rumour about the Empress. “Which, on the topic of friendships, does anyone other than Lavender have any news to share on that front?”
No one volunteered anything, but Hermione was blushing from remembering the particular rumour which should not be named.
“Uhuhh, Hermioneee?” Katie sang. “Blushing, are we? C’mon tell us something at least.”
“No no, it’s nothing like that,” Hermione denied. “I was just thinking of something else…”
“And what would that be?” Harry asked with a playful tilt of his head.
“Uhm.. just a rumour I heard. Which I can’t share.” She was blushing harder under all their scrutiny, and she knew they wouldn’t relent now.
“Hermione,” Harry said. “You know we would be supportive of you if the reason you’re blushing is a woman, right?”
“Yeah, of course.” She said immediately, blushing even harder. It wasn’t like that, was it? She would know if it was like that, right? “I mean, I guess, yeah.” She was sure they could fry an egg on her face with the amount she was blushing. “Anyways, I really have to go, Madame Black needs me.” She picked up her things in a hurry and rushed to the elevator face still burning. Had she really told them Madame Black needed her? On a Saturday? She needed to get better about these things.
That night, Hermione laid in bed wondering. Did her friends really think that she was… that? No, if she had to think about this, she had to be able to think the word. Did her friends think she was a lesbian? Hermione was… She didn’t like the idea. There wasn’t anything wrong with being a lesbian. Hermione just wasn’t one.
Hermione liked to think of herself as a reasonable person. And reasonable people didn’t deny things simply because they didn’t like the idea of them. They proved the idea wrong. Hermione simply had to prove that she wasn’t a lesbian. The easy solution to that was to prove that she was attracted to men. If she could find one man to be attracted to, she would have disproved that she was a lesbian. Simple.
She didn’t particularly like the idea of marrying a man, but she didn’t have to, right? Marriage wasn’t for everyone, perhaps she was more of a free spirit. She could live alone or with a friend and have a boyfriend who lived elsewhere. If she ever made it out of ministry housing that was.
When had she experienced attraction last? What was attraction even? She remembered seeing a poster for a new men’s tailor that had opened in Diagon a few weeks ago. The man on the poster had been a drawing, but his relaxed pose in his dress robes had been very appealing. The fact that she felt the same sense of… appeal when Mary had worn a set of deep red well-tailored dress robes last week because she had a dinner afterwards wasn’t lost on Hermione, but it was a start.
Besides, Mary didn’t count, she was appealing to everyone, she was the fucking Empress. Everyone was supposed to feel her appeal. Hermione remembered a male teacher she had had at Lady Malfoy’s educational centre who all the girls had been giggling about. She had giggled along, and blushed when she got her tests back just like all the other girls. And then there had been David back before he had been cast out. Everyone had been attracted to him and so had Hermione. She was sure of that.
And just like that, Hermione Morgana, rational as she was had disproved any notion of her being a lesbian. She was a fully certified heterosexual.
September 13th, 1999
On the following Monday, Ron came knocking on her office door.
“Hi Ron, can I help you with anything?”
While Hermione had had a few interactions with him, she wouldn’t consider them friends. He was Lavender’s boyfriend, and she knew him peripherally.
“Uhm… yeah actually…” He was blushing and his hand seemed permanently stuck scratching the back of his head. “So, you know how purebloods give a piece of jewellery with their family stone in it when they get engaged?”
Hermione nodded, suddenly having an inkling as to where this conversation was going. And what an exciting direction it was.
“Well, it’s considered the most intimate to give a ring, because you have to size it, and well, you know, Lavender’s very romantic, so well, I thought she’d appreciate that. Problem is, I don’t know her ring size. But I was wondering if you did, or well, perhaps you could find out? I could get a self-sizing ring, but those aren’t as good quality, you know? I’d like it to be a surprise, cause she likes surprises, and I’ve already started the paperwork to apply for her to get her name back early and stuff. So, could I ask you to figure out her ring size, but like discretely? Only if you’re okay with it of course, I can find another way…”
Hermione had been nodding encouragingly the entire time, excited on behalf of Lavender.
“Of course, I can do that. I’ll figure out some excuse for measuring her fingers.”
But how to do that?
Notes:
This chapter is a lotshorter than usual, sorry guys. I handed in the first draft of a really big assignment today, so I’ve been focusing on that recently.
But next chapter we're returning stronger than ever: lesbian introspection, birthdays (x2) and chance run-ins
Chapter 12: In which (birth)days happen
Notes:
Once again, sorry about the lacklustre size of last chapter. I wish I had a cooler AO3 author story than my assignment took a lot of energy. Let’s just pretend something wild and crazy happened.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
September 15th, 1999
Hermione had, rather fast in her opinion, made an elaborate plan to get the ring size out of Lavender. She had invited her for hot chocolate at Florean Fortescue’s as an excuse to get her to Diagon, and a little after five, they were sitting in the window, each nursing a mug of the most delicious hot chocolate Hermione had ever tasted. Which wasn’t a lot, of course, but still: it was really good.
The whole plan had taken a quite a bit of doing as Lavender wasn’t technically allowed to use the ministry floos, but if Hermione made up a task which she needed Lavender’s assistance for, she could count as a guest. Of course, there was also the option of using the testing probe which she still had, but… Hermione wasn’t sure if she was allowed to use it anymore. She still carried it around in the same holster as her wand but hadn’t used it since she got her wand. Lavender wouldn’t be able to go back to the labour force housing afterwards, but a special arrangement with Penelope and Ron meant she could sleep over at his.
Hermione had paid, for her the fourteen sickles had started to seem a small amount, but for Lavender it was an insurmountable expense. But hopefully not for long, if Ron had a plan to get her citizenship returned, he hopefully had some sort of career plan in store for her too. But that was a concern for later. Now, step two of her plan.
“So, Lavender, I don’t know if I’ve observed correctly, but is wearing rings a new trend? I’ve seen a few of the girls in the DMLE starting to wear one.”
“Really,” Lavender asked, excited at the prospect of a new fashion trend. “They could all have gotten engaged, I suppose, but rings aren’t a common engagement jewellery. It’s the most romantic one, of course, but it seems not all wizards realize that, or witches, that’s also an option.”
Wait, was Lavender still on about that?
“Really, Lavender, you don’t have to hint at your suspicions of my sexuality. I’m attracted to men; I just don’t fancy dating them.”
“Mhmm,” Lavender nodded, as if she didn’t believe Hermione at all. “Tell me, Hermione, which of the men in here would you like to have sex with?”
“What?!” Hermione exclaimed.
“Really, it’s a perfectly normal conversation topic. I’ve had this sort of conversation with Katie plenty of times.” Lavender said calmly.
“Huh?”
“Well, tell me then.”
Hermione looked around at the men in the shop. Imagined that she would have to touch them. That they would have to touch her.
“None of them are that attractive, so none, I guess.”
“Hmm, true,” Lavender acknowledged. “But if you had to choose?”
“Well, I suppose that guy over there, with the dark hair.”
“Yeah, he has really nice butt, right?” Lavender gushed. Hermione hadn’t known you were allowed to talk about strangers like that when you had an almost-fiancé. But it did feel nice in a way. To share something quite so personal.
“Well, only women have nice butts,” Hermione said while blushing about this whole topic. Really, why did her friends insist on forcing this issue?
“Uh, no.” Lavender looked at her strangely. “That’s not how that works. I suppose women can like, have cute butts, but men are the ones with nice butts.”
“No no,” Hermione explained. “Men are all like, weird and strong and and just big. Like, I mean, I’m attracted to men, but describing them as cute is just… just wrong, you know?”
This plan of getting Lavender sized up for a ring was really not going well. Perhaps she had to improvise a bit, and this way she could prove her point at the same time. Great combination.
“Like, I mean, look at mens’ hands, their fingers too, they’re so… big-“
“Yeah, that’s a good thing, Hermione. They’re big and strong and they can hold you.” Lavender cut in, clearly exasperated. By what, Hermione was unsure of. There was no way you were meant to find men with big hands attractive.
“No, can you even imagine what ring size they are? I’m a 16, and I don’t know what you are, but you can’t be more than a 14, and men must be at least 20. It just isn’t… cute.”
Lavender sighed deeply. “Hermione. I don’t know what to tell you, except that you do not sound like you find men attractive at all. On the contrary, you sound like someone who finds women attractive. And that’s all I’m going to say about that.”
Yeah, whatever, but Lavender hadn’t clued her into the ring sizes. That was the whole purpose of this conversation, and any fickle doubts about her previously very cemented heterosexuality had no place here.
“Hm, anyways, back to that fashion trend I was talking about. Do you think I should get a ring like that?”
Lavender accepted the change in topic without argument, and Hermione’s elaborate plan could continue once again.
“Hmm, depends on how expensive they are and how fashionable you want to seem? Can you elaborate on what you’ve observed, I haven’t seen any new jewellery recently. Perhaps it’s something specific in the DMLE?”
Hermione nodded, trying to appear thoughtful.
“Maybe we should ask an expert? Do you know a jewellery store which sells rings? We don’t have to buy anything; we can just look.”
Lavender looked sceptical, and Hermione was sure she had been found out somehow.
“I don’t know, all the jewellery places I know are really fancy. I doubt they’d let people like us just look around. I mean, I know you’re employed and I’m technically sacred 28. But you know how it is… There’s a reason I brought Poppy with last time we went shopping.”
Oh. Hermione hadn’t considered that at all. She had simply gotten used to being able to go wherever she wanted and floo back home when she needed to. She had gotten so used to it she didn’t even realize that a few months ago she hadn’t been able to do something so simple.
“I’ll casually mention Madame Black when we enter or something. Both of us are dressed like ministry workers hanging out on a day off. We’re done with the chocolate anyways, and I still want to hang out.”
Lavender acquiesced, but only after making Hermione promise to speak in her best pureblood accent.
“If they call the aurors on us or something I will personally rat you out. I’m not getting a charge for “disturbance of the cultural peace” on my record.”
Lavender directed them to a shop in Horizon Alley, and Hermione suddenly felt way less sure of her plan. Perhaps Lavender already knew her ring size and they could avoid this whole thing. But Lavender had already charged ahead so Hermione was forced to follow.
A chime rang as they entered the shop, a long room filled with glass cases and glittering decorations. She was worried that looking at a piece for too long would destroy it. There was only one other customer in the shop, a woman with dark hair and a beautiful velvet coat. It looked more expensive than all of Hermione’s wardrobe combined.
“Hello, may I help you ladies with anything?” A shop-assistant came up to them, a perfectly pleasant smile on her face. She looked very… perfectly pleasant overall, like a part of the glittering interior design. Hermione decided to take charge of the conversation before Lavender started blabbing about something she wasn’t supposed to. Hermione knew Lavender knew more on how to behave in fancy shops like this. But she also knew Lavender easily got excited by being allowed to talk.
“Yes, Hello,” She pitched her voice differently than usual, aiming for a neutral tone. She didn’t dare copy the purebloods, that could very easily go very wrong. Sometimes they had practiced it for fun back at the educational centre, and no one had ever managed something convincing. “We have noticed that rings seem to be becoming a trend at the ministry again, and we were wondering if perhaps you had noticed too? We would like to get our ring sizes measured too.”
The assistant nodded, smile unchanged. Hermione thought of Yvonne, but Yvonne’s smiles were always real, always kind. This seemed like a mask hiding her disdain at their clearly insufficient status.
“I must admit I have not noticed any more rings being sold than usual. It is more amber necklaces that are in demand. Would you be interested in looking at any of those?”
“No thank you, we both have one. But if rings are starting to become popular, we would like to know our size. What system do you use? I only know my Dutch size, I’m afraid.”
“We use the French system. As any self-respecting jeweller would.” The woman still had the smile plastered across her face, but it was clear she would rather they left. But Hermione had promised Ron that she would get Lavender’s ring size.
“Wonderful, the if you could please inform us as to what ring size we are in the French system, I would much appreciate it.”
The woman nodded and turned around. Lavender poked her in the side, looking panicked.
“She’s calling the Aurors, she’s getting us kicked out, I know it. Why did you have to push her like that, maybe we can still escape.”
“Relax, Lavender, if she calls the aurors we’ll figure it out.” Hermione lowered her voice. “I’m certain there must be someone I can talk to if we get in trouble. My favours are worth quite a lot, I’ve found. Let’s just look around for now.”
The walked to the nearest counter, Lavender wringing her hands. As it was filled with bracelets Hermione made them go to a counter with rings, to fit their story. They neared the other customer whose shop-assistant had also left momentarily. She was examining an array of pearl chokers laid out on a velvet tray. Most of the displays did have price tags, but there were none in sight for the chokers.
They had intended to stay a bit away, but the woman turned around to look at them. There was something… familiar about…
“Oh. Hello.” Was she supposed to curtsey, the Empress was clearly undercover, but it also seemed inappropriate not to-
“Hello Hermione, a pleasure seeing you. What brings you in here?”
“We are getting our ring sizes measured, I’ve noticed a few people around the DMLE wearing rings, so in case it becomes a trend it would be practically to know.”
“I see, interesting. Perhaps I shall be on the lookout for rings as a trend too.”
Hermione imagined the Empress, perfectly dressed up and immaculately styled, looking at people’s rings and wondering if she wanted to participate in the trend. No. That was a ludicrous thought.
“What are you looking at, your- your necklace you normally wear is very beautiful.”
Fuck, almost slipped up. Hermione looked over to Lavender to see if she noticed anything, but she was studying the Empress with a faraway gaze in her eyes. Perhaps the identity concealing spells were confusing her.
“Oh, just a little treat for something that went well for me recently. I quite appreciate pearl chokers; they seem so poised. Come here, look with me, tell me what you think.”
The Empress made a motion with her hand, and Hermione went over next to her to examine the necklaces. They were all incredibly beautiful, and Hermione was sure the Empress would look poised in all of them. The Empress could look poised in a shapeless tent.
“I do believe all of them are very beautiful. But-“
Hermione was cut off by the sales assistant who had left them returning, with no ring size measurer, but a manager instead.
“I’m very sorry ma’am, are these girls bothering you?”
The Empress looked up at the manager who had addressed her, and from her place at her side, Hermione could see a flick of red sparking into those mysterious eyes.
“No, not at all. I believe they wanted their ring sizes measured. Is that not a service you offer here? I would hate to make my purchases at a place who cannot even properly fit its prospective customers.”
The manager started backtracking quickly.
“No, of course not, ma’am. We simply like to ensure all of our costumers get a great experience shopping with us. Now, ladies, would you like to look at some of our rings while my assistant fetches the measurement equipment?”
Lavender was absorbing the interaction hungrily, Hermione could see. It made sense, just like Hermione had craved any display of magic before she got her own wand, Lavender would crave the knowledge of how she should behave when she became part of proper society once again. Had anyone ever taught Lavender any of the things she knew about fashion and culture? Or had she picked it all up herself.
When they exited the shop, leaving the Empress still examining pearl chokers, Lavender turned to her, leaning in close. Hermione was sure she would get an earful for risking humiliation in the shop, or perhaps the way they had almost gotten kicked out.
“Who was that?! The woman, I’m sure I’ve seen her somewhere before, but I can’t put a finger on where. And how do you know her?”
The last part was said in a suggestive tone Hermione was not entirely comfortable with.
“Oh, just an acquaintance. It’s complicated, but she helps me with magic sometimes. We’re not that close.” She had to close this down quickly. Lavender asked questions about topics that should not be touched, not at all.
“Come on, you have to give me more than that. I know I have seen her somewhere before, is she in the labour force? Or was she?”
“Look, Lavender, I think that’s Ron over there. I have got to run, but I wish you a great evening, see you tomorrow. Could you tell him that I got a copy of the memo 15 for him, but that it should stay between us”
With that, Hermione hurried away trying to save her and Lavender from an early death.
September 17th, 1999
Mary had had to redo her entire lesson plans twice since she began teaching Hermione. She had long since learnt that to deal with other people she had to assume their brain moved at a snail’s pace. Hermione was showing her what could be achieved when both parties had a somewhat functional brain. In all seriousness, the conduct of her employees made her question how Britannia had even functioned before she decided to fix the place. But then again, it hadn’t functioned, had it?
She was about to leave her office to teach Hermione about the finer points of one-to-more transfiguration and its applications when one faced various problems with paperwork. Then, next time, they could finally start on making multiple copies of something, especially documents and books. However, her various ideas for how to develop the concept from practical applications back to theory was interrupted by Barty knocking on her door.
Now, it was of course possible to ignore Barty. She frequently did when he was drunk or together with whoever he fancied himself in love with currently. Unfortunately, ignoring him while in her office usually meant ignoring important matters she really should consider. She had a few minutes before Andromeda left, so she should at least hear him out.
“Enter.” She commanded. Barty entered and immediately bowed, as was proper.
“Your Majesty,” he greeted, “I have some concerns about the upcoming ball. I believe… it is my suspicion that… Lord Black intends to… have a band jump out of pumpkins before their performance. Reportedly, I do not listen to such music, of course, their music contains references to…” Barty was really struggling to say that the band’s most popular song was called my kinky cousin, despite both of them knowing that. Did he really think she didn’t know exactly what got played on the dancefloor at the office parties she left early? Perhaps he did. Or perhaps he simply did not dare think the thought that she may know of such things. She really should spare him the mortification, shouldn’t she? She could be merciful when she desired.
“Do not worry yourself Barty. I have heard rumours of something of the like, and I can assure you that Lord Black has made no arrangements for bands jumping out of pumpkins, entertaining as it would be. I do believe he has made arrangements for the drink trays to be hollow floating pumpkins, but that is a much more appropriate decoration, no? Thank you for bringing your concerns to my attention, I agree that it has been a particularly persistent rumour. If you would excuse me, I have my usual Friday appointment now.”
If Sirius had made arrangements of a band with coarse lyrics jumping out of a band, then he had cancelled them the minute she questioned him about the rumour. And Mary severely doubted even Sirius was that stupid. She would have had his lordship and head on a silver platter before the band had even uttered the first words of my kinky cousin. I’m a kinky cousin, do you wanna play with me, if she recalled correctly. No, the balls were a huge success, and an invention she was quite proud of. It allowed everyone to feel proud of their place in the great ministry machine, while also networking. Additionally, it celebrated traditional magical holidays, but not the very popular ones people would want to spend with their family. Yes, it was a good initiative and one she would not let Lord Black ruin.
She also had to ensure that Hermione had something to wear to the ball. Perhaps she thought it would be appropriate to wear the same robes that she had last time. She did seem like the type to think that. And if every shop treated her like they did in the jewellery store, she would have to start soon. She probably should have started already, the ball was in less than a week. Hm, that may actually prove more trouble than she had considered.
With those thoughts, she decided to apparate to Hermione’s office as she was running a bit behind her original plan. It would make for a dramatic entry too, it seemed Hermione had gotten used to her ability to enter exactly when Andromeda had left. She disappeared silently in a cloud of smoke, a trick she had invented herself many years ago in her quest to discover unaided flight. Both tricks she had not shared with anyone.
“Whoah, how did you do that?” Was Hermione’s greeting when she arrived. She had gotten more used to their lack of titles when in these meetings and now treated her almost like one would with their peers.
“A secret of mine, though perhaps we will look at it when you have mastered normal apparation. We should do that soon; it is quite an essential skill to have. Actually, let us do that today. I did not realise you were unable to apparate. I will ensure the paperwork is registered properly, do not worry about it.”
Correction: she would walk into the records hall, put Hermione in there and send her an apparation license. But Hermione needn’t know the finer details. With that, they began a topic that Mary had mastered many years ago and never intended to teach. But there was something in the way Hermione learned that made it very easy to teach her.
“Now, consider what happens when you conjure something? What similarities does it have to when you apparate.”
Hermione had done the reading that Mary had assigned her and reflected on whether you could turn a very small object into a lot of very big objects, and if that wasn’t simply conjuration and vanishing. It seemed that a lot of magic, at least in the way Mary taught it, came down to being able to conjure, and thereby vanish, things. Sure, she had learnt some basic manipulation of objects before, but after that everything had come back to conjuring. It turned out that apparation did not at all come down to that. As Mary had said, if you had vanished yourself, you couldn’t very well conjure yourself again. You were gone.
Instead, you had to focus on the idea of going exactly somewhere, and with every part of you. It was strange, and a very different way of doing magic than she was used to, but Mary had said it would make sense after she had done it a few times.
It also turned out that Hermione did have a security clearance high enough to apparate in the ministry, but only to and from select areas. It was more than Daphne Greengrass was able to, tough, even with family privileges. And when she wasn’t allowed to apparate inside her office, Mary had simply waved her hand dismissively and suddenly she was.
“I lifted it entirely, you would be able to use the testing probe for that anyways, I’m sure. Or, you could have found a way, I believe. That is actually an interesting proposition, to apparate without shaping the magic- excuse me. You should be able to apparate anywhere now, no restrictions. But do not go flaunting it, people will talk. And on the topic of people talking, what are you planning to wear for the ball next week?”
Fuck. Hermione had somehow managed to erase that fact from her brain entirely.
“The same robes I wore last time. The dress code is the same, is it not?”
Mary had a special look for when Hermione said something that in her eyes was entirely moronic. And that was the look Hermione was receiving right now. Her eyes did not change in the way they did when she got very emotional. They stayed a red-brown, but the face in which they were placed got very blank, as if Mary would rather say nothing than explain why Hermione was so wrong she should just go and never return.
“While some people are perfectly content with wearing the same clothes for every ministry event, you will not be one of them. You are the assistant of the head of the DMLE. You cannot seem like you only have one set of robes. Besides, Mabon calls for a different style than Litha, the two events have entirely different connotations. It is frankly amazing that you managed to find anything appropriate to wear last time if you cannot see that. You know what, I will instruct Andromeda to take you shopping. I am certain that she knows what is appropriate. Do not worry, I will find a fitting excuse.”
By the end of the lesson Hermione had not splinched herself, but she also hadn’t apparated further than from behind her desk to a location in the room a metre of from where she wanted to go. At the end, Mary had left with a goodbye and a comment about how they would be going on a field trip next time to make her improve.
“And don’t apparate until next time, please. I do not believe it would turn out well for you. Unless you were to apparate directly to me, of course. I should be able to patch you back up if don’t leave too much of yourself behind.”
Hermione didn’t know why she blushed a bit at that comment.
September 19th, 1999
Hermione had never really celebrated her birthday, no one at the centres had. She hadn’t even known when it was before she started at Lady Malfoy’s educational centre. As such, she had not really thought about the fact that it was her birthday much and didn’t even remember until she went into the office and found a present on her desk. It didn’t carry a card and simply said “To Hermione – Happy Birthday” but Hermione did not know many people, and even less who could afford a ring from the jewellery store that had almost kicked Lavender out.
She just sat and stared at it for a while. It was very pretty, a simple and elegant thing. In the middle was a blue stone, suspended between two spiralling gold arms. She… didn’t know what she felt. It was… weird. The only other person who had given her jewellery was Lady Malfoy and that had basically been a present for lying to the highest wizarding authority. She didn’t know why she had gotten this. And she didn’t know what to do about it.
Luckily, a note came flying in bearing Ron’s auror id on it. However, it was immediately clear that Lavender had written it. There was no way Ron would sign his name with such an elaborate R.
Hermione
Please meet me in meeting room B12.4 at 17 today. I need some advice on some paperwork. Very important do not miss
Ron
Given that Lavender had written the note, she assumed it had something to do with her birthday. Lavender was the type to remember Hermione’s birthday even when she had forgotten herself. That counted two people who had remembered her birthday, Lavender and… and Mary. And that was when she found Harry’s note, also on her desk.
Hey ‘Mione, please don’t tell Lavender, but she’s throwing a party for you. Just thought you would like the warning, but perhaps you already figured it out or something. But happy birthday, you old woman. 20 years, that’s old people age, right. No more teenage years. I’m rambling, see you tonight, at the ministry I think. Ron’s pretty good at making things work out.
- Harry
Hermione realized that the three people who had written her, was also the three people who she considered herself closest with. Which wasn’t all that strange really, the list was pretty much the same as last year. Apart from the whole THE EMPRESS HAD GIVEN HER AN EXPENSIVE BIRTHDAY PRESENT. And that other thing called SHE CONSIDERED THE EMPRESS AMONG HER CLOSEST RELATIONS. Friends wasn’t really an appropriate word, she didn’t know what songs Mary liked, but she did know her considerations on how the ephemeral nature of plants didn’t lend well as a base for transfiguration into more permanent objects. And that counted for something, right?
Hermione really tried to ignore the ring and its pretty box from the fancy shop while she read through the memos and letters that required her attention. She didn’t know a detection charm, but then, she probably wouldn’t detect anything Mary had put on there. But it didn’t hurt to try, right. She couldn’t focus anyways, with the blue stone constantly shining on the edge of her field of vision.
She did what Mary had tried to teach her. Focus on her magic, her will. What she wanted. She wanted to know… well, she supposed what magic was on it was a bit ambitious. She wanted to know if it was dangerous. But then again, any ring from the Empress likely carried some danger with it, even if she gifted it as her alter ego. She wanted to know if the ring was cursed. But Mary had told her curses was sometimes used for practical purposes, so that couldn’t be it either. Okay, she wanted to-
Her magic better just fucking know what she wanted, she was tired of this game. She forced it out, and when she opened her eyes, nothing had happened. Or so she thought. But then, slowly, a green light started to light around the ring. That was a good sing, probably. She considered green a good sign, so her magic, her will, probably did so too. Yeah, she could put the ring on. Hermione slipped the ring on her finger, and nothing happened. Luckily, she supposed.
With that, she thought she would be able to go back to work, but instead Madame Black sent a memo of her own volition. That was quite unusual, her boss usually responded to any inquiries Hermione had over the weekend in an hour or so, but rarely contacted her herself.
Dear Hermione
Firstly, her Majesty explained that she expects you to show up in robes that would not make me embarrassed to see your photograph. While I do not think your last outfit was bad, it would be best if we went shopping for a new one together. I will take you on Monday afternoon.
Please do not aim to get photographed in these robes, however, as that would indicate that you once again ended up a bit too close to the Empress for your own safety.
Secondly, I have just received news that Yvonne has given birth early this morning to a healthy son. If you would please go into my office and access the wine cupboard you will find a pouch with some money. Please buy Yvonne and her son a gift and visit her in St. Mungo’s.
-Madame Black
Things really just kept on happening, didn’t they?
Hermione did as she was ordered and went to Diagon Alley for a gift. She ended up settling on some flowers and what the salesgirl swore was a trendy scarf for Yvonne, and a magical rattle for the baby. It had little stars floating around it, and they would glitter and move when the rattle was shaken.
Hermione wondered if she ever wanted children. The whole process of being pregnant, and getting impregnated too, seemed abhorrent. She did not want that at all. But a cute baby who shook rattles… she didn’t know about that. Perhaps it was simply because she was entering her twenties, and she wasn’t even sure she would want children if all the difficulties of procuring them weren’t so unavoidable. And it wasn’t even like she had anyone she wanted to have children with, or a future where they were even remotely possible.
She had never been to St. Mungo’s, but it was not unlike what she had imagined. The lobby was filled with people with various magical ailments, either natural or self-caused. However, when she told the receptionist she was the assistant of Andromeda Black here to congratulate Yvonne Ricken, she was led away immediately.
Yvonne was lying in a hospital bed, a tired smile on her face. Apparently Mr. Ricken and the baby was gone to some examinations, checking if he showed magical potential.
“Oh thank you, you really didn’t have to get me anything, nor Madame Black. But thank you for coming. I don’t have much family except my parents, and well… even that’s complicated. But tell me, how is everything at the ministry, and how are you? I need to hear about something other than all the things that could be wrong with Galahad.”
Hermione decided to ignore the choice of name. It was said that people from the labour force were those with the weird names, so Hermione was trying to change her perspective. But could Galahad and Florizel really be appropriate names? The kids had to be able to pronounce them before they went to Hogwarts, surely. Hermione realized that of the two babies she had met, both would be going to Hogwarts if they wanted, though Galahad may want to follow in his father’s footsteps and get a traditional apprenticeship. But still, they faced a completely different world than anyone Hermione had known before. Strange.
“I think it’s going alright. Pretty steadily. I have gotten a wand,” Hermione pulled her wand out, and her ring caught the light.
“Oh, that’s pretty ring. Where is it from?” Yvonne remarked, reaching for Hermione’s hand to examine if further.
“I just got it today, as a birthday gift. The card didn’t have a sender, but I do have a suspicion for who it is.”
“Uhhh,” Yvonne smiled. “A secret admirer, and probably sacred 28, given the setting. They only make this style at one jewellery shop, and they practically only sell to fancy purebloods. And it’s your birthstone too, then- wait is it your birthday today?”
Hermione ignored everything Yvonne had just said about admirers, as that seemed the safest bet.
“Yeah, but I had honestly forgotten. We don’t really celebrate it much in the labour force. I know a few people who don’t even know when theirs are. You get to see it once on some paperwork, and that’s that. So, if you were a bit forgetful at eleven you never get to know. But now I get to share it with a very special little boy, so perhaps I’ll remember next year.”
Yvonne was still smiling, but almost not. Luckily, the mention of her son had returned some happiness to her eyes.
“Yeah, he is very special isn’t he. But hopefully also magical, oh Hermione, I really couldn’t handle it if he wasn’t. I couldn’t give him up like that, you would understand if you could just see him, he is so precious.”
Hermione nodded, wondering what happened to babies that didn’t show “magical potential”. She couldn’t imagine it being anything good.
Notes:
The conversation between Hermione and Lavender was brought to you by yours truly, someone who identifies themselves as a six on the Kinsey scale, if the Kinsey scale was logarithmic. So yeah, I don’t know if you’re supposed to find big man hands attractive, but like, Lavender does.
My source for the ring sizes? My source is that I made them up.
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Anameyoucantpronounce on Chapter 6 Mon 18 Aug 2025 03:42PM UTC
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scue on Chapter 6 Sat 16 Aug 2025 06:36AM UTC
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Anameyoucantpronounce on Chapter 6 Mon 18 Aug 2025 03:43PM UTC
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Transcended on Chapter 7 Mon 18 Aug 2025 08:22PM UTC
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Anameyoucantpronounce on Chapter 7 Tue 19 Aug 2025 04:28PM UTC
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GrokeBroke on Chapter 7 Tue 19 Aug 2025 08:27AM UTC
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scue on Chapter 7 Tue 19 Aug 2025 10:35PM UTC
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Anameyoucantpronounce on Chapter 7 Wed 20 Aug 2025 08:10PM UTC
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GrokeBroke on Chapter 8 Tue 26 Aug 2025 08:48AM UTC
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GrokeBroke on Chapter 9 Sun 31 Aug 2025 06:16PM UTC
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Transcended on Chapter 9 Sun 31 Aug 2025 07:38PM UTC
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Anameyoucantpronounce on Chapter 9 Wed 03 Sep 2025 05:35AM UTC
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Fargoneocean on Chapter 9 Wed 03 Sep 2025 03:31AM UTC
Last Edited Wed 03 Sep 2025 03:32AM UTC
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Anameyoucantpronounce on Chapter 9 Wed 03 Sep 2025 11:31AM UTC
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GrokeBroke on Chapter 10 Mon 08 Sep 2025 07:04PM UTC
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