Chapter Text
Percy is five minutes late on Monday morning, stepping through her private floo with an apology, and another pinstriped suit. Hermione has breakfast laid out on the table that she can fit into her new office, some croissants brought through the floo from the cottage, fresh fruit, coffee in a French Press, and lots of sparkling water courtesy of Tilly.
“Morning,” Hermione says. Her nails are freshly painted, her hair blown out. She spent most of the weekend in the library at home, or being coaxed to the Hampstead ponds on Draco’s suggestion, and so genuinely feels relaxed. She thought it was sweet and a bit funny that he clearly had never been before, and was therefore taken aback by the sheer number of people there.
Hermione forced him to wait in line for the mixed pond and banned him from using magic to skip the queue, so he took the opportunity to blatantly feel her up under her bikini, and then loudly complain about the crowds in a joking sort of way. She had not missed the very real moments he had flinched, and ended up taking pity on him after a single lap. Hermione is still thinking of his aversion to people two days later.
“Morning,” Percy says, a little woodenly. But then again, he always has been a bit odd. “I have to say, Hermione. I don’t normally accept meetings when I don’t know what they’re going to be about. And the markets open at eight.”
“Coffee? I think Draco can spare you. Help yourself, by the way. I’m starving.”
“Oh?”
“Morning yoga. It’s really been a game changer for the stress.”
“Has it,” Percy replies, heaping his own plate with berries and melon.
“There’s a little studio I go to by the house - it’s lovely. You should come some time.”
“Why am I here, Hermione?”
Hermione smiles to herself.
“You’re clearly aware of the situation I was in before.” She forces herself to not show how embarrassed she is. “And you’re aware of the situation I am in currently.”
Percy inclines his head, cautiously.
“I am. I am sorry, by the way.”
“It’s no matter,” she delivers a deliberate shrug. “But anyway. It can’t go on. Obviously, in the event of our separation, I will suddenly be in the possession of a small fortune, no matter how enormous the sum I am not party to might be. I need you to teach me what to do with it.”
Percy stares at her, clearly not expecting this.
“You - what?”
“Lessons, I suppose. I’m going to hire you as my private tutor.”
“Why don’t you ask -”
“Draco? Don’t be ridiculous. I’m asking you. You’re the only person I trust,” she says this honestly. “The only person who knows exactly what situation I’m in, and exactly what I don’t know. I need your help.”
Percy sighs, lowering his coffee cup. He settles himself, and Hermione readies herself for a story.
“I was surprised when he approached me. I didn’t just say yes straight away, you know. It wasn’t - obviously. I’m very ashamed of that part of my life. With the war. And it’s still - I can never quite forget it when my family are all together. The ways I failed them.”
Hermione is silent, no clock ticking to even interrupt the heavy silence.
“I just wanted to get away. To make something of myself. I got carried away and now - well. I keep trying to tell myself it doesn’t matter, after all. The right ones won in the end.”
“You showed up when it mattered, Perce.”
“That is generous of you to say,” he says, with a bitter smile. “When I met with Draco I saw a lot of that in him. The regret, the knowing that he had made mistakes, the determination to never, ever, be in that position again. He wanted to make a difference, and I wanted to, too. I wanted to pay my parents back. For them to never worry about money again - it seemed like the least I could do. I know what it’s like, Hermione,” he says this quite passionately, and Hermione suddenly doesn’t mind that Draco told Percy about her, because she realises that he’s right. Of course he knows. “I know - the humiliation. The fear. The exhaustion. It’s - well. We’re free from that now.”
“Yes,” she says softly, biting her tongue. “We are.”
“Draco saw that and he thought I could help. He knew about my professional experience but thought I might be interested in learning something new. And he was right. It’s been more satisfying than I could have imagined. Building something like that. It’s been - it’s been fun. I can’t say I ever expected to end up in financial services but -” he shrugs. “I’m glad I have. And I’m happy to help you, Hermione. But I’m not keeping secrets. And I’m not taking sides.”
“Of course not,” Hermione says, because she knows that even with all their history, Percy has already chosen his. “I’m going to tell Draco tonight that you’ve agreed to help me. I actually think he’ll consider it a good idea.”
They finish their breakfast and talk no more of lessons, or failures, or amends that need to be made. The yoga studio is mentioned, the wedding gently discussed, because now it makes sense that Percy was there, and various other, inconsequential moments. Ginny and Harry, Ron, George. Bill and Charlie, how Fleur is, Molly and Arthur. That sort of thing. Upcoming family barbeques, reminiscences over Hogwarts. He leaves just before nine, and Tilly pops her head round to check in.
“Mr Greengrass is confirmed for lunch,” she says. Hermione smiles. Two down, three to go.
“Excellent. Thank you Tilly.”
“And Hannah and Marjorie are in for tomorrow.”
“Lovely.”
“The Minister also called down - if you have five?”
“I do. I’ll pop up. Nice lipstick, by the way.”
Hermione Granger used to be fairly innocuous when she walked through the Ministry corridors. Naturally, when people did notice her there would be a few mutters in her wake, but most of the time people tended to overlook her. In the six years after the war she firstly didn’t leave her cubicle very often, and even when she did, to take the public floos or make her way to a floor where the bathrooms actually worked, she seemed mostly invisible. Head down, an apologetic, worn down air, hurrying through the corridors made it surprisingly easy for people's eyes to skate over her, unseeing.
Hermione Malfoy is less easy to ignore. She glides now, whether her hair is curly or blown out it wafts around her. The perfume she has taken to wearing lasts all day, is heavy and expensive and welcoming, and it lingers, like her. She is not in a rush. She no longer looks down, or away, but acknowledges the attention with a calm smile. Her heels announce her arrival before she is seen, the way she carries herself is confident and assured.
Hermione Malfoy, therefore, walks into the Minister’s office easily, with doors opening to her and people respectfully greeting her in the corridor.
“Hello, Minister.”
“Hermione,” Kingsley says. “Nice to see you again.”
“How are you?”
“Well, thank you. Please take a seat.”
Kingsley’s office is bigger, naturally, than hers. As she takes in the space, she realises it is probably only marginally. She wants to laugh, and then maybe send another Howler, to her husband. She wonders what strings he had to pull to get that one approved.
“I suppose you’re wondering why I‘ve called you in.”
“It did cross my mind.”
Kingsley allows himself a smile. “Marriage, if I may say so, agrees with you.” Hermione returns the smile. “I received over the weekend an anonymous donation,” he continues, looking at her expectantly.
“Oh,” she questions. “How nice.”
“It is entirely intended for your department.”
“How generous.” A silence.
“We don’t tend to accept these sorts of things,” he says, after a moment. “Post war, naturally we are trying to be as transparent as possible about our sources of funding. I’m sure you can think of why.”
“I can, and I’m glad to hear it.”
“So you understand my hesitancy in accepting such a gift.”
Hermione says nothing. Kingsley waits again, and then sighs.
“You are working on some legislation as part of your role in the Department of Magical Creatures.”
“Yes. We're hoping to bring it to vote in the next month or so.”
“Do you have any idea as to the parties who might wish to influence this sort of vote?”
“I have a few ideas, naturally. It is my job to understand who might benefit from this.”
There is a further pause.
“I would hope, Hermione, that you might share those.”
Hermone blinks.
“Why? Will you refuse the gift?”
“No,” he admits after a moment. “No. The support would be…useful, of course. We are always in need of resources.”
“I would think, Kingsley, that finding out who donated the money might actually make it harder for me to remain impartial. If I knew who had done so I might be tempted to appease them, or make concessions to their point of view.”
“I see.”
“I can assure you, that if we were lucky enough to receive any sort of funding, it would merely go to expanding our team in order to make the best case possible for the magical creatures we are focused on protecting. I know that my previous requests to do so have been denied - last time I was told that central budget just ‘can’t support this sort of this.’”
Kingsley steeples his hands over the desk.
“I’m going to be frank with you, Hermione. We are concerned this funding comes from a fringe group of creatures, who are looking to extort our government workers.”
Hermione blinks.
“I haven’t heard of any such groups.”
“No, but -”
“Is there any evidence that these groups exist?”
“Well, there are murmurings -”
“Then I think the more pertinent question is why have they not been brought to my attention? Surely if the auror department is expressly concerned with such a thing, I should have been informed of this before now?”
“Naturally, in an organisation this size -”
“We are running out of time to pass this legislation. I have been working for the past six years, with creatures, to try and put together something that will be the first step in meeting their needs. I hardly want to use this little chat as a moment to highlight the failings of the Ministry and the Wizengamot and the shortfalls of the justice system so far, not least because the thousands who fought on our side during the war are still disenfranchised, but if I were to take this hesitancy around release of the funding in tandem with the time it has taken to get to this point in the first place, I might be tempted to suggest that the Ministry itself is actively against creatures gaining legal recognition.”
The silence deepens, becomes less friendly. Hermione holds Kingsley’s stare passively. He sighs.
“Very well. I will approve the funds.”
“Should I expect a meeting with the aurors to be put into my calendar?”
He hesitates a moment longer.
“I don’t believe it will be necessary.”
Hermione forces herself to keep a straight face.
“Then I thank you for your time, Minister. Have a good day.” As she returns to her desk, Hermione wonders exactly just how much money Draco has pledged. And why only her profligacy is the one under scrutiny here. She rolls her eyes at him, even though he’s not there. After the weekend she is still floating too high on the forbidden truth of how she feels about him to be actually angry. And then she gets back to work.