Happenstance

Hermione, now firmly and officially a Granger again, sat in the antechamber of the office of the Minister of Magic. She could hear raised voices but endeavoured not to eavesdrop. She had been waiting for quite a while but that did not surprise her. The Blame Hat was being passed around.

She had spoken to Harry as soon as her field team had very thoroughly secured Fenrir Greyback, to give her friend warning before the kerfuffle. Gawain Robards and the senior Aurors were getting a bollocking from Kingsley Shacklebolt not undeservingly in her opinion. Methodical scientific method was tedious sometimes but like the tortoise it got there in the end.

The Department of Magical Law Enforcement had been resting on its laurels in the last few years. They had done very well immediately after the war when the scent of the chase was running high but once their quarry had run to ground there was rather too much shrugging and random digging. As Harry had often complained, Aurors were trained to catch people not solve crimes. And they had not caught Fenrir Greyback.

With luck she and Harry would come out of this with many of the reforms they wanted. Gratitude was hardly raining down upon them, not least because of who had let the werewolf out in the first place. The Scientific Magical Studies Department’s efforts would save them from the chop, Hermione hoped. She had spoken with, well spoken at, Minister Shacklebolt and he had assured her he was on her side or rather she was on his as he too wanted reforms.

They had ended their discussion amicably with Hermione giving him an invitation to her triplets’ Namegiving. It had started out as a small event; just family and a few friends then Draco had offered to organise it. Agreeing had been a mistake, Hermione admitted but the flurry of inquiries and the trials and the endless paperwork had her running around like a mad hamster. At the time, she had thanked him for helping.

Her house was an exasperation too. She had to decommission all the wards after the mess left by the use of the Dark Arts and the subsequent investigation. That would take a while to do properly. Hermione certainly was not going to hustle the Warders into rushing. But the upshot of that was she was still at Malfoy Manor and Draco was presenting her children to society at a Yule ball. Give that man and inch and he would take a mile of velvet ribbon. At least it was red.

She still had her own room. There had been a lot of changes in her life, she only needed to look down at her porn-star cleavage to see that, but she was sticking to her guns. Malfoy Manor was a convenient refuge until she could return to the suburbs and Draco Malfoy was... was very flattering to her ego.

He wanted her. For all sorts of reasons, most selfish, but it was Hermione Granger he wanted not some amenable cheerleader. And the sex was fantastic. That should not matter but being able to reconnect with her body, to blot out what the werewolf had done to her was a balm. Sovereignty was Woman’s greatest desire according to Chaucer and Hermione agreed even if she had not liked the Wife of Bath’s Tale.

After much thought, she had found a psychologist who was also a Squib. There were a surprising number of mundane wizarding folk but no one spoke of them unless directly asked, even then reluctantly. Wittstein had mentioned her niece, who had just qualified from Cambridge almost defensively as though anticipating pity. Hermione wanted to try counselling before resorting to a Pensieve. Thankfully the dreams had ended with the destruction of the ritual circle.

She had a sudden idea of offering Squibs scholarships to Muggle universities. Her Department could use chemists, engineers and accountants to name just a few jobs off the top of her head. The SMS focussed their magic so there were plenty of positions where casting was unnecessary or limited. Philip Prewett came to mind. How had he paid for his studies? She should talk to him again.

The raised voices ceased. A group of disgruntled wizards and witches left the Minister’s office. Harry was on their heels, politic enough not to grin at what was evidently a significant victory. Hermione strolled with him to his cubicle; a cluttered space indistinguishable from his subordinates’ cubbyholes. He cleared a chair for her and perched a hip on what was probably his desk to give her a report.

The Department for Magical Law Enforcement and the Department of Scientific Magical Studies would be working much closer now, more akin to a police force and its forensics department. The Unspeakables were in the posse too as a special detachment to facilitate the apprehension of very dangerous magical folk. Everyone would be expected to work together, which was the cause of the long faces as the Aurors were accustomed to being a force apart from the rest of the Ministry.

Unfortunately Kingsley Shacklebolt had not instigated a complete merger. The Minister was being a new broom but he was canny enough to sweep out the old in stages. They needed to be patient to get all the changes they wanted. Hermione related the meat and potatoes of her interview. Harry nodded at intervals. Progress was being made. With the increased lifespan of wizards and witches, they might even live to see all the restructuring they wanted.

“Ginny said to say we’re coming with bells on to Malfoy’s Ball.” He relayed the spousal message then added. “Ron’ll be there. Molly pulled rank. She has never been to a high society party. Her branch of the Prewetts was too moderate for the pureblood aristocracy.” Harry shook his head. Hermione had extended invitations to all the Weasleys mostly so Ginny would not feel awkward and because she wanted to repair her relationship with Ron’s family, if not with Ron. “He’s bringing his fiancée.”

“Good for him.” Hermione said without rancour. Harry’s expression was eloquent. “I expect she is gorgeous.”

“Kasimira is pretty enough.” He admitted grudgingly. She glanced at his face and laughed.

“Are you saying that for me or Ginny?” Hermione asked, aware Mrs Potter had a jealous streak. As the only girl she had been more indulged than Ron but she had done without a lot of what she had wanted growing up. Now she had Harry, she was not going to give him up for anyone. Mr Potter shrugged.

“Bit of both.” He was about to say something when Hermione’s PDA chimed. She pulled out the bright red pad and tapped it. The device looked like the lovechild of a Remembrall and a Blackberry, and would function in both magical or technological surrounds. She had strongly resisted suggestions to dub it a tricorder. Hermione checked the message then put it away as it faded back to silver.

“Something has filled lab two with pink smoke.” She explained with a frown. Her PDA gave an alert whenever an alarm went off in her Department. Hermione was not going to miss anything again. Her pride still smarted over the embezzlement. She and Harry bade farewell. There was always more work to do.