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Chapter Text

Hermione had another first date tonight. She was part of the initial group of George Weasley’s newest crackpot scheme to bring happiness to a post-war wizarding England that was decidedly unhappy. He had created a sort of compatibility test, using methods he refused to share even with his closest friends. But when word got out of his creation, the line at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes had never been longer. So it was decided that, to ensure the safety and overall effectiveness of the project, there should be a test group. This initial group consisted only of those who could pass a background test, and who were willing to provide George with a detailed assessment of how their date went.

Hermione had quickly found several issues with this plan. The first being that George’s so-called ‘background test’ was essentially just ‘are you related or friends with the owner or investors of WWW’, or ‘are you a conventionally attractive witch?’ Hermione had pointed this out to him quite quickly, as it created an extremely limited sample pool and… that was when she was informed she was in fact a part of this sample. When she had not even applied. Excellent.

“But George, you do realize that because of your parameters for this sample,” Hermione had said that day in the shop, making sure to roll her eyes at the last word,” You’ll only be setting me up with wizards we already know. Who I likely have zero interest in, considering I already know them.”

“How can you be sure you won’t be interested if you’ve never given them a shot, Granger? Sometime all it takes is a new perspective,” George replied evenly, saying every word slowly as though she needed it explained to her like a child. Hermione hated this about him. She knew he saw right through her; she was so unbearably smart in most everything, but oh so foolish in this.

“I can say with certainty, George, that the next person I date will not be a Gryffindor-“ at this George let out a melodramatic gasp “or one of your bloody brothers-“ another indignant noise “or one of the sleazy investor-types that you’ve got hanging around. And I am also certain that I have just encompassed your entire pool of potential matches for me. So please, spare me. I refuse to have my photo splashed on the front page of the Prophet again with another wizard who wasn’t worth my time to begin with.”

“I don’t even know where to begin! How dare you blaspheme our house. Godric is surely rolling over in his grave. And what ever could be wrong with dating another one of the Weasley clan. You know there are a few still up for grabs and Molly would be so thankful to officially get you in her clutches,” George replied, grinning innocently. Another eye roll from Hermione.

“George, I really haven’t the time to date. I’m so busy with all of my Wizengamot cases, I’d be the worst girlfriend. I can’t even imagine trying to work a man into my schedule,” Hermione said with pleading eyes.

George looked at her then, and once again she was struck with the feeling of being paper thin. Hermione never failed to be stunned by how perceptive George Weasley had become in the years since she’d first met him. How his grief over losing a twin had turned him into a man more capable of seeing everything in everyone else.

“Hermione,” George eventually said, leaning down to get closer to her eye level. “Please just let me set you up once. With someone who does not have red hair or red Hogwarts alumni gear. I’ll even ask them to take you somewhere discreet on the first date, just so that you don’t have to worry about Skeeter catching wind of it. I know it’s been hard for you. Let my system work it’s magic. Compatibility can mean a lot of things. We might not find your soulmate, but a decent shag might help get your-“

“You are a pest, George Weasley,” Hermione said. She had laughed despite herself. Foolish. “Fine. I’ll give your system a try. But only because you’ve promised not to make Molly my mum in law.”

And that had ultimately been, out of all the hair-brained half-cocked ideas she’d agreed to since allowing Minerva McGonagall the chance to transform into a tabby cat in her living room, the worst thing she’d said yes to.
She was so foolish in love.

•••

While Hermione dressed for what she was preparing to be another spectacularly awful first date, she thought over the extremely vague details George had owled her the week prior. Part of the “fun” of the newly minted Project: Encourage New Infatuation, Safely was that all first dates were blind and coordinated based off of a very detailed questionnaire. Hermione had balked first at the acronym for said project, when at first she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why George had decided on such a ridiculous name, and then at the fact that the wizard was the one to plan the date based off of the witch’s likes and dislikes.
The wizarding world would fight two wars to combat a blood purist from taking power, but Merlin be damned if they give up their patriarchal beliefs.
The owl she had received from George had very few instructions that did not inspire any great hope in Hermione. Wear casual clothing, and please don’t be mad at me. That was just excellent. She had replied immediately, asking if casual meant she was allowed to show up in her favorite ratty jumper and worn leggings.

George’s very sarcastic reply had simply read Gods Granger, just steal one of those flouncy little skirts from my sister and at least give the poor bastard a shot.

Hermione realized, as she flooed out of her flat in an outfit entirely taken from Ginny’s closet, that she really was quite foolish after all.

•••
Ernie bloody Macmillan. Private bloody Quidditch box. This was truly a new low.

When Hermione had flooed to the Leaky and then quietly made her way to a somewhat discreet location off the main road of Diagon to meet her match, she had somehow found a way to become hopeful. Despite the voices of reason in her head telling her that there was absolutely no way this would work, there still seemed to be a little devil on her shoulder saying this one could finally be the exception.

He was not. She would never learn her lesson.

Ernie had gone completely mute as Hermione approached. When he realized she was in fact meant to be his date, he cursed under his breath.

Foolish, foolish, foolish.

So now here she was, sat in a private box watching a game between two of the newly established semi-professional level Quidditch teams. One of the post-war initiatives Kingsley had created to cheer the masses. Hermione was beginning to realize that these post-war pick-me-ups were not for her.

“So,” Ernie began, trying to break the clear tension, “What have you been er… up to? After.. you know. Everything.”

Hermione sighed. “Well, you might have seen some of it in the papers. I work for an independent magical law firm, representing clients and advocating for various policies. My most recent case was wages for house-elves. It was quite successful.”

“Yes, I think I might have seen that,” Ernie replied. Hermione thought he might say something else that would indicate he had indeed seen it. He did not.

“And what do you do?” She asked, as an attempt to keep the feeble conversation going.

“I’m a developer of sorts with Seamus and Dean at their pub, Banjaxed. I help them come up with the drinks,” he said. Hermione knew this, of course. Seamus and Dean’s pub in Diagon was quite popular with the younger generation. They did have nice cocktails, always much more complex than traditional wizarding pub offerings.

“Oh lovely! Have you been working on anything new?” Hermione tried to replicate the excited grin she saw other women easily give to men they might be interested in. Ernie seemed to believe it.

“Yes, actually. We were on a research trip at a muggle bar recently and discovered that they’re doing something that is even better at releasing you from inhibitions. We think it’d be a smash at the pub, but we’re trying to replicate the effects with a potion that we could infuse into the drinks,” Ernie answered. Hermione was a bit nervous as to where this was going.

“And what did you discover?”

“Cocaine!” he said excitedly.

Hermione’s eyes bulged out of her head, and she was certain her mouth was hanging open quite rudely.

“Oh Ernie, that’s just… well I don’t even know what to say. Cocaine is horribly addictive and very dangerous.”

“Well, yeah, for the muggles. But that’s why we’re working on the infusions! All the fun, none of the harm. And you can drink it, so there’s no need to put your face up against a dirty loo. Isn’t that great?” Ernie seemed to still be under the effects of her previous faux-excitement. So much so that he could not see the horror currently written all over her face.

“How interesting. Please do be careful though. I wouldn’t want you to get into any trouble legally.” Hermione tried to cross her legs primly, but all it did was attract Ernie’s attention to them. Damn Ginny’s skirt.

•••
“And after that he just would not stop talking about that bloody pub and illegal muggle drugs! The whole while, staring at my legs! I don’t think he made eye contact with me again the rest of the match. It was awful, truly,” Hermione moaned.

She had apparated directly to Grimmauld Place after her date, desperate to complain to Harry and Ginny. She was bundled under a thick knitted blanket, even though it was the middle of summer. She didn’t want to look at her traitorous legs for the rest of the night. George had shown up as well, eager to hear about how Hermione’s first date had gone.

“So what does this cocaine feel like exactly?” George asked. Hermione knew his expression all too well.

“George Weasley do not dare get any ideas from this! I see that look and no, you will not be selling any drugs in your shop.” Harry snickered as Ginny threw a pillow at her brother.

“George, you need to work on your poker face! A line of party potions is actually quite a good idea, if you ever decide to extend your line into more adult areas,” Ginny said. Hermione reached for a throw pillow, but Ginny easily accioed it out of her hands and once again chucked it at George.

“Oye! Both of you relax. But also, excellent entrepreneurial instincts, little sister. I wonder if I could put it out faster than the pub, get ahead of the market.” The wheels in George’s head were already turning. Damn him.

“Anyway,” Harry started, clearly intent on steering them back to the original topic. “Hermione, I take it this means you have no intention of seeing MacMillan again?”
Hermione glared, unimpressed. “Obviously.”

“Perfect! That means you’re still eligible for phase two,” George eagerly cut in.

“No! Absolutely not. I promised you one date. One. And your silly magical compatibility test, which you still haven’t told me the methods of, was clearly all wrong. So no. Not another one.” Hermione was frantic. She couldn’t do it again.

“Hermione, you can’t just give up after one date! I’m sure in some sense you and MacMillan are compatible. You both fought in the war and he’s always been quite opinionated. Don’t you think those are qualities you might like?” George again spoke to her like he was reasoning with a child who refused to eat their vegetables.

“I just don’t think it’s worth it. Waiting around for some prince to sweep me off my feet, be perfect in every way. He’s not out there, and he’s certainly not a part of-“

“Penis?” Ginny added in a mockingly helpful tone. Hermione glared.

“Precisely. He is not a part of that.”

•••

As Hermione got ready for bed that night, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. She had filled out nicely in the few years since the war. Her once gaunt face was fuller, with the pronounced cheekbones of her mother. Her lips were plump and rosy. She’d never quite learned how to manage her hair, but the longer length seemed to control the overall hugeness of it. Her skin was clear and dotted with freckles she thought might be considered cute.

Hermione had never been vane, but she allowed herself to believe in the notion that she was, overall, fairly pretty.

Attractive, accomplished, intelligent. It shouldn’t be so bloody difficult to find someone to share it all with. And while Hermione valued her persistent rationality, she was secretly very romantic. Blame her mother’s insistence on pushing Jane Austen’s works at such a young age, or her love of cheesy rom-coms, but damn if Hermione didn’t want it all. She wanted to be loved. It was her most fatal flaw. The deep desire to be desired, while wondering who could stay despite everything else.

Chapter Text

George Weasley was competitive and driven. So of course, within a fortnight of Hermione’s first and last date with Ernie MacMillan, he had developed a limited line of party potions.

Before the potions went up for sale, George wanted to see how they’d fare in an actual party environment, and not just in his makeshift lab. The perfect time for this was apparently the monthly game nights Harry held at Grimmauld. The guest list for these parties was ever changing, especially now as their friend group widened post war.

Seamus, Dean, and Ernie did not make the list this month.

Hermione sat once again on Harry’s couch, watching him and Ron play a particularly ruthless round of wizard chess. They had both taken one of the potions about a half hour before, and they seemed to be working their magic. This one was one called Excitus, a thick black sludge intended to give the drinker a shorter high and a large burst of energy. George said it was the closest he could get to replicating the feeling of actual Muggle cocaine. Hermione did not want to know how he had found out.

It was clearly very effective. The two boys were practically bouncing off the walls, and making their chess moves in record time.

“And what if someone was to take it before a quidditch match? Wouldn’t that be cheating?” Luna had wondered allowed as George explained it. He laughed.

“They don’t give you skills or abilities you don’t already possess. It just takes what you have and makes it more. Brings it to the forefront. All of the potions are the same that way. They don’t make you do anything you wouldn’t or couldn’t do sober.” Luna had seemed to be appeased by that, but Hermione was unconvinced.

“You know in the Muggle world there’s drug testing before professional sporting events. Maybe that’s something the Ministry needs to look into, considering you’ve effectively gone and become a bloody drug dealer,” Hermione huffed. She didn’t care about Quidditch, but it was the principle of the thing.

Hermione would not be trying any of these potions. Because of the principle. Of course.

“So Granger, what are you partaking in tonight?” a voice next to her asked suddenly. Hermione turned to the speaker and gave him a look of faux annoyance.

“Wine, Nott. I am not going to be a guinea pig for George anymore,” she replied. Theo Nott was grinning at her. She had to fight herself not to return it.

Theo had somehow become absorbed into their group of friends about a year after the war, when he cornered Hermione in Flourish and Blotts in order to apologize. When Hermione had simply looked at him in confusion, he had explained it was for his father’s actions in the Department of Mysteries. He had seemed so sincere that Hermione just could not turn him away. They ended up discussing the latest arithmancy release she had been holding, and the rest was history. Hermione adored him. Perhaps a bit too much.

“Anymore, Granger? Does that mean you were a part of the test run for P.E.N.I.S?” He asked innocently, annunciating each letter in the acronym with false naïvety. She rolled her eyes.

“Only by force. It was terrible. I’m afraid the only thing that came of it was the idea to create wizard drugs. So it was, as you can see, quite a nightmare.” She gestured around the room at all of their very inebriated friends. Theo let out a surprised laugh.

“I’m telling you, Hermione, you need to let me set you up. You can’t putter about with the blokes George has in the roster of that damned project. You belong with a Slytherin, I’m sure of it.”

“A Slytherin! And why would you think that?” Hermione asked, genuinely surprised. She took a long sip of her wine to hide the scarlet blush that had rushed into her cheeks.
The truth was that Hermione was, perhaps, a little interested in a Slytherin. The one sitting next to her.

“I still believe your sorting into Gryffindor was a fluke, first of all. You would’ve been a Slytherin if Salazar, damn his soul, hadn’t been so bloody ignorant. And a fine one at that. You are a cunning, knowledge seeking menace. But only useful knowledge, not just knowledge for the sake of it like the Ravenclaws,” Theo added, seeming to guess where Hermione’s thoughts had gone.

“Everyone always tells me I was meant to be a Ravenclaw. Even Ron has said it. Several times, actually,” Hermione said. Theo groaned.

“That’s obviously because they don’t get you like I do, Granger. I see right through that Golden Girl facade of yours. You’re silver down to the bone,” Theo replied, leaning his head down on Hermione’s shoulder and humming.

Hermione laughed, but internally she was reeling. Was she so transparent? How could this boy, who she’d truly known for barely any time at all, understand her more than her closest friends? Hermione took yet another long swig of the cheap rosé in her cup.

“Or maybe it’s just that you don’t let them see the real you. Is that it, Granger? You’re like a chameleon, changing to whatever version of yourself you think people want to see. I haven’t even been able to crack you yet. It’s like you change everything about you to fit into any situation you find yourself in. But I suppose I’d be flattered by it if I was like the rest of them,” He added as an afterthought, almost as if to soften the blow of having so succinctly described her.

“Versions of myself? You’re insane, Nott,” she replied in a too-high voice, punctuating the sentence with yet another gulp of wine.

“It’s not a bad thing, Granger. Don’t take offense. I just mean that you’re very adaptable. You know what people want from you, and you change to be it if it suits you. It’s quite a lucrative quality, actually. Probably why you’re so good at tackling the Wizengamot. The never know what version of the Golden Girl they’ll be getting, so you leave them utterly unprepared every time.”

Hermione didn’t– couldn’t– reply to that. She just shook her head at him and stared at Harry and Ginny’s incredibly bare bookcase. She really needed to get them more books.

“So, what concoction of George’s did you decide to take?” Hermione asked, desperate to change the subject and take the focus off her. Theo laughed and burrowed closer to her, slinging his arm around her middle. It left her aching.

“Can you guess, Granger?” He asked, his head turned to her so he could say it softly near her ear. Every hair on the back of Hermione’s neck was standing on end. She swallowed deeply. Where had all of her wine gone?

“Well it certainly seems like you’ve taken the, ah, Cupido potion. Although I simply can’t tell why you’d have taken that as a single wizard at a party with almost entirely taken witches,” Hermione replied. Theo chuckled against her shoulder.

“George needed a tester for it, couldn’t have it go out to market without one last round. And as you’ve said, I’m a single bloke and there are in fact some single witches here. Perhaps it was all a part of my master plan,” Theo said, waggling his eyebrows and finally sitting up to put some space between them. Hermione couldn’t tell if she was grateful or disappointed in the loss of contact.

Was this it? Was this the moment that Hermione could finally confess the feelings that had been brewing under the surface ever since they’d bonded over their mutual swottiness? It wasn’t exactly a proper crush, but an interest. And that was more than she’d felt in ages. It had to be a sign of something good, something right. She took a deep breath, her still existent Gryffindor flame blazing with the thrill of being brave again. But then Theo spoke.

“Speaking of, I need your help. I’ve been trying to corner Lovegood at every single one of these blasted parties but she’s so slippery. Any chance you could help me out?” Theo’s voice was like a glass of ice water. The fire was promptly doused.

“Luna? Why do you want to speak with her?” Hermione asked slowly, hoping to Merlin and God and the stars that she was misunderstanding.

“Oh I’m mad for her. Have been for ages. I always thought she was interesting at Hogwarts, not in the loony way but just… interesting. And she’s gotten so fit, don’t you think? Please Granger, I’d owe you one,” He replied, a conspiratorial whisper meant just for her ears.

And so she did as asked. Grabbed Theo’s hand and led him to Luna. Perhaps one day they’d get married and tell this story during their vows, Theo grinning madly at Hermione and Luna twinkling in her own interesting way. Did wizarding weddings ask attendees to speak now or forever hold their peace? Godric, well Hermione would clearly never be brave enough for that regardless. They’d have a horde of gorgeous children and make Hermione godmother and-

“Hello Luna! Theodore here was asking me the most interesting questions about magical creatures and I thought you’d be able to give him far more in depth answers.” Hermione’s thoughts were interrupted by the quick need to tell a lie that’d haunt her. Theo’s sly smirk in Hermione’s direction quickly turned into a dazzling smile to Luna. She returned it perfectly. Damn.

Hermione Jean Granger was a decorated war hero, the Brightest Witch of Her Age, practically a genius. But Merlin, was she so fucking foolish.

•••

Work the next morning was proving to be a right beast. Although she’d not taken any of those blasted drugs, Hermione had had quite a lot of wine. Not her best idea.

“Granger, how’s that report coming along on your new case? I want to take a quick glance at it before our meeting this morning?” Hermione’s coworker Adam asked, swinging his arm onto her doorway in a falsely casual way. Adam Young was a transplant from America, just a few years younger than Hermione. He frequently spoke of the various differences between Hogwarts and Ilvermorny, and bemoaned the impossibility of getting a good pizza in Britain.

Adam was very well liked by everyone on their team, but something about him gave her pause. He was just too interested in something about Hermione, but she couldn’t figure out what it was that he wanted from her. Political alliance? A bit of the limelight that came from simply associating with her? Hermione was sure it had to be something like that.

“Ah yes, it’s all finished. Here you go,” Hermione said, flicking her wand at the neat stack of papers on her desk to float them neatly into his outstretched hand. Instead of taking them and walking to his office– which was merely a few feet away– he sat in her visitor’s chair and propped his feet up on the side table.

Hermione sat in silent annoyance for a few moments before accepting her fate and getting back to the article she had been reading before Adam barged in. It’s not that she didn’t like the man. He was very bright, and had been a great addition to their office when they had finally gotten the budget to open another position. And he did seem to care a great deal about the cases they took on.

“This is excellent work Granger, great stuff. I’m sure with your help, all of the prisoners in Azkaban will be nice and cozy by Christmas,” Adam said after flipping through the report far too quickly to have actually read any of it. Hermione fixed him with a disapproving glare.

“You know that’s not what I’m after, Young,” she replied. “Criminals should be punished but not so inhumanely! Can you even believe the conditions they have lived under since the dementors were sent to Azkaban? If we were exposed to the Muggles tomorrow, they’d try us for human rights violations!”

“Relax. I’m only teasing. Besides, it’s good practice for the shit you’ll get from the press. And the Wizengamot. Oh and probably the general public,” Adam said. Hermione simply shrugged.

“Wizarding England has cycled through despising and adoring me since I was a fourth year accused of breaking Harry Potter’s heart. At least this time it will be for something I truly care about,” Hermione replied, hoping her tone left no room for arguments.

“So you didn’t care about breaking poor Potter’s heart? Ruthless, even for you!” Adam seemed to think he was onto something, as though he was getting insider information.

“I did no such thing. Harry and I have never been anything more than friends, closer to siblings honestly. The mere thought of doing anything remotely romantic with him is ghastly. Besides, I was maid of honor at his wedding. Do you really think Ginny would have allowed that if we were exes? She’s the ruthless one.” Hermione said, nodding pointedly at the hanging photo that was closest to her bookshelf. Pictured in it was Ginny and Harry on their wedding day, grinning at each other while Hermione popped a bottle and sprayed them both with champagne.

Adam shrugged his shoulders, apparently accepting her explanation. Not like it was any of his business anyway. They were colleagues. Hardly even friendly, barely acquaintances. Why he cared about a decade old rumor was beyond Hermione.

•••

During their weekly office-wide meeting, Hermione was prepared to have her newest proposal completely shut down. Adam had been right, the initial reactions weren’t excellent even amongst her fairly progressive colleagues, but after hearing her arguments they got on board. Thank Merlin, Hermione had spent months on this.

Her newest project, which she had coined the Compassion for Incarcerated Persons Act. Before presenting it, she had written the acronym several times and showed it to her friends. S.P.E.W still haunted her, and she didn’t want a situation like George’s. Even though his was clearly intentional.

The C.I.P.A had a few very lofty goals, but the overall point was to create more humane conditions for prisoners currently incarcerated in Azkaban. She hoped to also extend it to cover the processes for release and rehabilitation, but she was starting small. Well, small for her.

“But Granger, you of all people should understand that these… individuals do not deserve our kindness. The only criminals serving time in Azkaban have done absolutely horrific things.” The first retort had, of course, been from Janet Foxwoods. She was a stout old woman with a permanently scowling face, always the first one to try to poke holes in Hermione’s plans.

“Yes, these people have committed atrocities beyond our comprehension. Some of them have even committed crimes against me, my friends, people I care about. I’m sure a lot of us can say the same. But if we don’t improve the way they are treated, we are perpetuating that cycle. We are creating an even worse problem, with the dementors especially. The majority of the prisoners in Azkaban have not been given life sentences. What do you think you would do if you were already angry at society in some way, enough to commit a terrible crime, and then you spent years of your life in a place designed to purge you of every moment of happiness you’ve ever felt? Would you rejoin society as a productive individual? I think not. Now, if you could turn to the 13th page of my report, I’ve referenced and explained some Muggle psychological studies on this exact subject…”

And so it went. In the end Hermione was able to win over enough people to vote in her favor, allowing her to move forward with the project. The next phase was going to be even more difficult.

“I think our biggest issue will be the press, Granger. We need to get them on our side from the start. I think if people see it as you’re saying it, to work towards rehabilitation and productive reintroduction into society, they’ll be on board. How are you going to do that?” Her supervisor, William, had asked as soon as the voting was done. Hermione sighed deeply.

“Yes, I agree. I think our ideal course of action would be to get ahead of it. So no leaks to the press, no reporting on it until our initial statement comes out. It would be excellent if we could get formerly incarcerated people who have been released and reformed to give testimonies. People the public would respond positively to. I’m just not too sure who that could be.” Hermione had spent hours considering this already. She knew the best solution but…

“What about the Malfoys? Narcissa and Draco. They both did time, and the public adores them now. Narcissa runs all of those charities, and Potter even testified on behalf of both of them. And they have a vested interest, since Lucius is still locked up,” cut in Adam. Hermione rubbed her temples.

“Yes, I’d considered them. I think they would be our best bet. Perhaps even our only one. I’m not sure of anyone else that quite meets the bill. Although there are several other Slytherins from my year at Hogwarts who served a few months. If we got the Malfoys on board, I think they’d all follow.”

“Excellent!” William said, oblivious to how decidedly not excellent this situation was.

She was going to have to cash in that favor with Theo.