Chapter Text
Deep within the Ministry of Magic’s walls, in the office of the current Deputy Head of Magical Law Enforcement, Hermione Granger was giving a disgruntled look at her friend and colleague, the Auror, Harry Potter and her long-term boyfriend, also an Auror, Ron Weasley.
‘What?’ Ron muttered.
With pursed lips, Hermione pushed a scrap of paper over the table.
‘This meagre note was left on my desk two days ago. This was the full extent of my knowledge of your whereabouts for the duration.’
Ron looked down at the note.
‘Right, yeah. To Hermione. Gone out. Be back later. Harry and Ron. What’s the problem?’
‘The problem is that is not how we do things here. The content of this note is woefully inadequate. I didn’t know where you were or what you were doing. You’re supposed to inform me of your movements and fill out the relevant paperwork I require to assess it and then approve it or decline your request.’
Ron glanced at Harry, who was giving Hermione a dour look.
‘We needed to be incognito. We got a lead, and we needed to chase it up.’
Hermione gave her lover a belligerent look.
‘Again, that is not how we do things. Don’t you remember any of your training?’
Harry pouted sulkily.
‘Yeah, we remember, but I needed to make a decision, and I decided the fewer people who knew about this lead, the better.’
Hermione gave him a withering look.
‘Oh, you decided. That makes everything alright then.’
‘OK, good. Can we go now?’ Ron asked.
Hermione’s left eye twitched in a manic fashion.
‘No. You don’t get to go now.’
Harry and Ron both sunk deeper into their chairs, wearing identical sullen expressions as, with an excessive flourish, Hermione slapped down a large, cumbersome leather folder onto the table.
‘Do you know what this is?’ she asked in a tight voice.
Ron and Harry shrugged.
‘It is a litany of all your fuck ups under my watch.’
Ron rolled his eyes.
‘Yeah, and I bet every single word in there is written by you. OK, yeah, we’ve made a few mistakes, but you’ve always been prone to exaggeration. You could turn the 'cat sat on the mat' into a bloody novel.’
All four carotid arteries located in Hermione’s neck pulsated with anger.
‘That is an unacceptable way to speak to your superior.’
Ron gave her a belittling scoff.
‘My superior. You’re starting to sound like Malfoy. Pack it in.’
Hermione couldn’t stifle her growl even if she had wanted to.
‘I am your superior. I am in a higher position than you are. Like it or not, you report to me; therefore, legally, I am your superior.’
‘Yeah, alright, boss lady,’ Ron muttered.
Harry was the embodiment of grouchyness as Hermione turned her attention back to him.
‘Before we focus on your startling lack of professionalism regarding your actions in the last two days, I’m still struggling to understand why, when I have personally requested the Selwyn report three times in the last week, you have failed to provide it to me. His case goes to the Wizengamot next week, and I need to prepare fully for it. If every i isn’t dotted and t crossed, the defence can get his case thrown out.’
Harry looked like he was struggling not to roll his eyes lest it provoke his friend's wrath even more. Ron flicked a bit of fluff off his robe and watched her with a slack jaw.
‘You’ll get your report before his trial,’ Harry told her stiffly. ‘Other things took priority. Ron and I were on a stakeout and needed to focus.’
Hermione sniffed, accompanied by an expression of blatant scorn.
‘Ah, yes. The stakeout.’
Harry scowled at her sarcastic, liberal use of waggling fingers to indicate air quotes.
‘This stakeout that you and Ron devoted two solid days to resulted in zero evidence of any criminal activity. The fact is, Rosier isn’t even at his manor. He’s not even in the country.’
‘He must have known we were on to him,’ Harry muttered.
Hermione made a show of inspecting her fingernails before giving him a piercing stare.
‘Why didn’t you use the Revelio charm?’
‘Well, we did. There were signs of life, but it turned out it wasn’t Rosier in there,’ Ron informed her. ‘It was his lodger. They look alike from a distance. We reckon Rosier is using him as a decoy.’
Hermione dragged her lower teeth down over her upper lip and attempted to regulate her stress levels.
‘If either of you had deigned to follow Auror protocol and had spoken to the correct authority, that being myself, I would have been able to tell you that Rosier is currently abroad. We receive a notification when any magical who has ever been connected to Voldemort leaves our borders. He is a guest at his sister's wedding, which is being hosted in the Caribbean.’
Harry lightly scoffed at this.
‘Yeah, right. How convenient that he just so happens to be out of the country when we’re tracking him.’
‘Rosier went through customs. You didn't check this with me, thereby wasting two days of our team's time.’
‘Well, if the official documentation says he's not in the country, then it must be true. No magical has ever found a way to cheat the system,’ Harry muttered with blatant mockery.
‘Don’t use sarcasm with me,’ Hermione snapped.
‘Oh, but it’s alright for you to be sarcastic with me, is it? I saw those air quotes.’
Hermione took another deep breath.
‘What compelled you to do this stakeout in the first place? Why are you so interested in Rosier? All reports say he's clean these days.’
Ron smoothed his hair down.
‘Mundungus Fletcher had a few things to say that contradict that.’
‘And what exactly did Fletcher tell you that was so important you disobeyed ministry regulations?’
Harry glanced around him suspiciously.
‘What are you looking for?’ Hermione asked.
‘Spies.’
‘My office is foolproof. No one’s spying on us. I have every protective charm known to the magical world in here.’
Harry gave her an uncertain look.
‘Speak, Harry,’ Hermione snapped.
‘Fletcher reckons that Rosier’s getting mixed up in something big.’
‘Something big. Like what?’
‘Fletcher doesn’t know anything official. He saw Rosier talking to Travers in the White Wyvern. It’s in Knockturn Alley.’
Hermione pinched the edge of her nose as Harry watched the muscles in her neck clench.
‘I know the grotty establishment. However, it’s not illegal to talk to someone in a pub. So, I’m curious to know why this gossip was enough for you to disregard the rules.’
‘Travers only just got out of Azkaban,’ Ron told her darkly. ‘He’s looking for revenge. They were using the Muffliato charm. They didn’t want to be heard, so, like, it’s Knockturn Alley, innit. How bad is it when you don’t want those regulars hearing what you’re up to?’
‘It’s still not enough to justify a stakeout. Travers has paid his debt to society, and until you have actual, hard evidence he is plotting vengeance on the wizarding world, you will need to cease pursuing him.’
‘Oh, yeah. That makes perfect sense,’ Ron said gruffly. ‘We won’t prevent an attack. We’ll just wait until they fuck things up and clean up the mess afterwards.’
‘You know the rules,’ Hermione chided. ‘We need actual proof they’re plotting an attack. Hearsay is no good to us.’
Harry leaned forward with a determined expression.
‘Rosier and Travers are up to something. I feel it in my bones.’
‘They’re dark wizards. Of course they’re up to something,’ Hermione exclaimed. ‘That still doesn’t mean you can operate outside the law.’
‘But-’
Harry was cut off.
‘A dark wizard is supposed to look like they’re up to no good. That’s the whole purpose of their wretched existence.’
‘Harry’s right. Something extremely dodgy is going on. Mark my words.’
Hermione registered that her boyfriend's voice sounded more garbled than usual as she turned her attention to him.
‘Are you really eating a sandwich right now?’ she asked in astonishment.
‘Yeah. Tastes good.’
‘Where did you get that?’ Hermione asked as his lips smacked together.
‘It was in my pocket.’
‘It’s against the law to eat in my office.’
‘No, it’s not forbidden to eat in the ministry offices. It was the first thing I checked when I started work here.’
‘It’s my law then. I don’t want crumbs on the carpet. It attracts rodents. Get rid of it immediately.'
‘Fucking 'ell,’ Ron lamented as he pushed the remainder of his sandwich into his mouth and chewed it viciously in protest.
Hermione gave her boyfriend a vindictive look and then turned back to the boy who lived.
‘So, you disrespected the department protocol and me because of a hunch?’
‘As you well know, when I have a hunch about something, they tend to be right,’ Harry told her through gritted teeth.
Hermione felt as if her nerves were being tightened in a vice.
‘You should have informed me. There is a pro-’
‘tocol. Yeah. We know,’ Harry told her dryly. ‘Thing is, I reckon we’ve got a leak in the department and seeing as you can’t do one bloody thing without writing an essay about it that others can easily read, we decided to go under the radar.’
‘I’m very meticulous regarding the security of my confidential paperwork. I doubt anyone could get past my protections.’
‘Yeah, well, in my experience, a lot of things can be got around if you’ve got enough skill. These guys were connected to Tom. They would know many of his tricks, and I didn’t want to take any chances. I needed this stakeout off the record. Doesn't matter now. It's clear they're one step ahead of us.’
Hermione narrowed her eyes and temporarily bypassed Harry’s justification for disobeying protocol.
‘This is the first I’ve heard about a leak. How long have you suspected this?’
‘It’s been about four days, maybe. I know something isn’t right.’
‘And what had led you to assume we have a leak?’
‘Stuff. Little things. I feel like I’m being watched. I feel like I’m seeing something out of the corner of my eye, like, I dunno, something like a shadow, but when I turn, it’s gone.’
‘Are you sure you don’t need to go to the opticians? You could have a retinal infection.'
‘No. I’m sure my eyes are fine. I mean, it feels like it’s an ominous sort of watching. It's like someone’s waiting for something to happen. I keep getting that twisting feeling in my tummy, like how I used to get when he was lurking in my head.’
Hermione frowned.
‘Why didn’t you say anything to me earlier about this?’
Harry gave her a weary look.
‘Because without any evidence, you won’t give official permission for me to investigate. I had to go behind your back.’
Hermione sighed, then heard excessive chomping and turned to see Ron biting off the head of a chocolate frog.
‘Oh, for crying out loud,’ she exclaimed. ‘Can’t you do anything quietly?’
‘Can’t you even swear properly?’ Ron garbled with chocolate-covered teeth. ‘Look. It’s melting, so I’m eating it before it goes too runny.’
Hermione muttered an actual swear word and turned back to Harry.
‘So, you think you’re being watched.’
‘Yeah. I was in the toilets earlier. No one was in there when I went in, and I didn’t hear the door go, and then I heard someone moving about, but when I got out, no one was there.’
‘Should have used the urinal, mate.’
Ron was licking the last of the chocolate off his lips as Harry wrinkled his nose.
‘I never did like urinals. I need my privacy. It’s one of the many downsides of celebrity. There’s always some weirdo who wants to get a look, and you know it creeps me out.’
‘Ah, yeah,’ Ron murmured. ‘Lot of weirdo’s about. I had one actually climb over the toilet door to try and get a peek at mine. He didn’t get a chance. I knocked him out.’
Hermione gazed up at the ceiling and prayed for inner strength.
‘Must you always resort to toxic male violence when you’re feeling angry?’
‘Yeah. I’ve found it’s a simple, very effective solution when dealing with morons. It fixes a lot of problems quickly and without fuss. He never tried to do it again.’
Hermione closed her eyes, counted to ten, and then resumed the conversation she was participating in.
‘The noise you heard was probably the pipes. So, what else makes you think you’re being watched?’
‘I keep a photo of Ginny on my desk, but it’s been moved. Not by much, but enough to know someone’s touched it. Someone’s been in my drawer too. I like to keep my paperwork on the left, but it has shifted to the right. You know how I like things just so.’
Hermione contemplated this.
‘Maybe a nosy cleaner who's a fan could have been rummaging about.’
‘I don’t think so. Look, I found this under my table. Whoever’s been snooping must have dropped it. Whether by accident or on purpose, I don't know. I checked it over for dark magic, but it’s clean.’
Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a vivid, medium-tone emerald crystal ring with a gold band. He passed it to her, and Hermione peered at it. The ring looked to be about the size of a galleon.
‘There’s no way this is real,’ she murmured. ‘If it was the real thing, it would be worth thousands of pounds. Hundreds of thousands, maybe. No one would be careless enough to drop this and forget about it. This just proves my point. This ring must be costume jewellery belonging to the cleaner. They must have put it to one side when they were dusting, then knocked it off the side and forgot about it. There. Problem solved.’
'That ring means something,' Harry attested. ‘Someone's been spying on me. Someone close enough to me to get access to a restricted department. I dunno whether that ring is a warning. I think they're playing mind games with me.'
This roused Hermione’s anger again as her fingers tightened around the ring.
‘It means nothing. This is nothing more than a fake emerald. You can pick them up in Diagon Alley for a few sickles. You really should have spoken to me sooner about all this. I’m your superior. By law, you're supposed to run everything by me, and then I decide whether or not you pursue the lead, which, now I know everything, I can categorically state I wouldn’t have. There is zero evidence Rosier and Travers are plotting anything.’
Harry’s emerald eyes blazed with anger as Hermione’s lips thinned.
‘Stop calling yourself our superior. This job’s gone to your head. I know it. Ron knows it. Everyone knows it. You reckon you're better than us. I knew you’d be like this. It’s why I didn’t tell you.’
‘True, that,’ Ron mumbled.
‘The fact remains, I am your next in command, so yes, I am your superior. You know the rules. You are supposed to report to me, and you failed to do so. This isn’t Hogwarts. You’re not children anymore. You’re supposed to be responsible adults who go by the book. You’re not supposed to disappear for two days and neglect to inform me of your actions. It’s unacceptable. I’m seriously considering giving you both a verbal warning for this misdemeanour.’
Harry growled.
‘Don’t call me a child. I defeated a Dark Lord.’
‘How long are you going to use that as your defence for your reckless behaviour? I am sick and tired of having this same conversation with you. You don’t write up your reports in time. You don’t follow protocol. You disappear without my permission. Your behaviour enrages me.’
Her words were dipping with disdain as Harry scowled at her.
‘Now you’re sounding like Snape. If I did things your way, I’d spend all day trapped in this office, not being an Auror and never getting things done. I need to be out there, fighting crime and keeping the streets safe, not faffing about in here.’
Hermione rubbed at her temples.
‘I’m starting to understand where Professor Snape was coming from. Why do you think the rules don’t apply to you? Why do you believe you are above the law?’
Harry exhaled loudly to indicate he was supremely pissed off.
‘I get results. Besides, you’re too much the opposite. Why do you live your life by the law? You don’t bend them anymore. I thought, after everything we went through, you’d see that sometimes, you have to fight the system.’
‘Because we’re not fighting a war anymore. This is peacetime, and laws must be obeyed in peacetime so society can function at its optimum levels.’
Ron yawned and scratched at his short beard.
‘Why don’t you just calm down? No one got hurt. Nothing got broken. I don’t understand why you’re getting your knickers in such a twist.’
Harry cringed as Hermione visibly shook.
‘Don’t use such a sexist, degrading insult. Now, the pair of you buggered off for two days with no explanation. Ginny was told more than I was.’
‘Ginny worries about me,’ Harry told her.
‘And I don’t worry?’
‘We couldn’t risk anyone seeing Pidwidgeon going back and forth.’
‘There are other ways to contact me,’ Hermione seethed.
‘Oh, for... I don’t need to explain every little thing I do,’ Harry spat.
‘When it concerns my team, and you’re representing me, then yes, you bloody well do have to explain yourself,’ Hermione screeched.
‘You’re only pissed off because Ron didn’t come home for two days, and now you’re taking it out on me.’
‘This has nothing to do with me and Ron’s private life and everything to do with your disregard for the rules. I’m sick and tired of cleaning up your messes.’
Harry grimaced.
‘Oh, here we bloody go. I admit I made one potential mess, but I have no regrets about my actions. We had to get Yaxley. He's dangerous.’
‘That one mess almost cost our department our reputation and justice.’
‘But it didn’t cost us. Yaxley went down, and no one else was any the wiser.’
‘Do you have any idea how legal loopholes operate?’
‘Yes,’ Harry hissed.
‘You used an unauthorised restraining technique on him, thereby putting everything we’d worked for in jeopardy because you couldn’t control your temper. We were very lucky Yaxley panicked and didn’t register exactly how you managed to apprehend him. His defence could have had all charges dropped on a technicality if they’d been aware of what you’d done.’
‘But he didn’t know, so everything was okay. He almost got away. If I hadn’t done what I did, everything we’d worked for would have been wasted.’
‘He was running out of places to hide. We had him cornered. We only needed to wait, but no. You had to be a macho man.’
Harry grimaced as Hermione gave him a look of severe condemnation.
‘So, yes. I am livid with the pair of you. You have wasted a colossal amount of time chasing a hunch that led you nowhere. Your time would have been better utilised doing anything else, including serving cups of tea in the staff canteen. And here I am, still waiting to receive the Selwyn report you promised me a week ago.’
‘Oh, for fucks sake. I’ll write the damn Selwyn report now,’ Harry retorted.
‘Do you expect a thank you for doing the basic requirements of your job?’
Harry glared at her as Ron smirked.
‘Is it that time of the month, babe? You seem even more riled up than you normally do.’
Hermione’s palm squeezed the ring so tightly she was sure her skin would be dented.
‘I have told you plenty of times that your casual sexism aggravates me, Ron. Desist in your painfully unfunny jokes at the expense of my menstrual cycle. It’s not funny. You wanted to be Aurors. This is all part of the job. I can’t do my job properly if my staff won’t do their job properly.’
‘Are we already at that point? You now regard us as your staff,’ Harry asked in a dour tone.
Hermione’s hair was growing larger at an inexplicable rate.
‘Yes. In the workplace, that is exactly what you are. Out of the ministry, we’re friends, or at least I thought we were. Friends don’t drive their friends mad.’
‘You’re becoming impossible,’ Harry blurted out. ‘Your high standards are becoming unreachable.’
‘Don’t turn this around on me. What you call high standards is me doing my job correctly. I’m so bloody tired of all of this. I’ve worked in this department for three years, and nothing has changed in all that time. Actually, no. Things are getting worse. You don’t respect my work ethic. You don’t do what I ask you to do. You don’t-‘
‘If you weren’t such a bloody nag, maybe we’d be more inclined to do things your way.’
Harry winced as the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.
‘A nag,’ Hermione reiterated as she paled. ‘You think me asking you to do your job properly is me being a nag?’
‘Well, yeah.’
‘I don’t seem to remember you and Ron having this kind of trouble with Kingsley when he was your immediate boss.’
‘Because Kingsley wasn’t like you,’ Harry pointed out. ‘He didn’t watch us like a hawk. He didn’t drag us in here every five minutes to explain ourselves. He trusted us to do our job.’
‘But, you did follow his orders. You did follow ministry protocol back then. You did what he told you to do, which is why he trusted you. You’re not doing what I ask you to do. You actively do everything I tell you not to. So, what’s changed?’
Harry tightened his jaw.
‘I follow the orders that I deem necessary. Sometimes, I have to do things my way.’
Hermione gasped.
‘What about Kingsley? You never questioned his orders.’
‘Look. He was much older than you. He was far more experienced. And well, I’ve known you since I was little, and I’ll be honest, sometimes it’s like taking orders from my sister. You and me, we fought in a war together. In the past, you used to trust my judgement. We used to be a team. Things have changed. You’ve changed. It’s your way or the highway, and you’re blocking me from doing what I do best.’
Hermione felt the red mist descend as clarity made itself known.
‘So, because you see me as a sister and not an older wizard, you’re saying this somehow diminishes your respect for my position?’
‘You’re not listening to me,’ Harry muttered. ‘I’m just saying, with you and Kingsley, the dynamics are different.’
‘Kingsley was adamant I was the right choice for his position.’
‘I’m not saying you’re not good at your job,’ Harry muttered uneasily, ‘On the contrary. You’re very good at it. Mostly. But, you used to be prepared to take risks. Now, ugh, I feel like if I breathe in the wrong way, you’re going to rip my head off.’
Hermione clicked her tongue as she turned to Ron.
‘And what’s your excuse?’
Ron was now nibbling on some shortcake.
‘Look, babe. You’re my girlfriend, and, as my girlfriend, I get certain boyfriend privileges. It doesn't matter what I do. You can't stay mad at me for too long.'
Hermione felt suddenly haggard at his impudence. His flippancy was very typical of him. She loved Ron. She truly did, but she did sometimes wonder if she’d rushed into things. Maybe, just maybe, it would have been wiser for her to have played the field a little more before committing to him.
There was a part of her that regretted not exploring other avenues when she'd been younger. It wasn't as if she felt trapped. Ron was loyal to her. Protective. She could be herself with him, and he accepted all she was with only the occasional criticism.
But she had nothing to compare him with.
Sometimes, she felt he took her for granted. Their existence together was expected by society. They would one day be married. Children were inevitable. She felt a comfort with Ron that she rarely felt with another. She trusted him.
But it had bothered her more than she liked to admit that she'd denied herself the pursuit of experience with others before committing to this life. She was acutely aware she was tinged with naivety. This mild ignorance was like a tiny little tapping in the back of her mind.
She pushed past this niggling thought and assessed both wizards with a critical eye.
‘So, basically, because your boss is a witch, you feel it necessary to undermine me.’
‘No,’ Harry declared. ‘It’s nothing to do with you being a witch. It's your increasingly bossy attitude that offends me. You’re too militant these days. You can’t let anything go. It’s stressful even being around you nowadays. Look, I told you why we went behind your back. Rosier is up to something. He and Travers are plotting in the shadows. I don’t have enough evidence yet to investigate this officially, and I knew you wouldn’t authorise this, but I know I’m right about this.’
‘There are logical explanations for each of your doubts. I think you’re overreacting. This is understandable due to your-’
‘No,’ Harry cut in. ‘They are your logical theories. Not mine. I believe they’re up to something, and you don’t even respect my opinion enough to give me support. It wasn’t so long ago that you would have had my back.’
‘When have you got my back?’ Hermione bellowed. ‘I now have to be very creative with my report as you two were on an unauthorised stakeout, and if I report you to my superiors, you’ll both face disciplinaries. You’re forcing me to lie for you.’
‘We were still on duty,' Harry declared. 'We’ve got eyes and ears all over Diagon Alley. We had it covered.'
‘What about your late reports?’
‘We both tell you what’s happened before we write them,’ Ron protested. ‘There’s nothing in those reports that you don’t already know. I don’t know why you’re always in such a rush to get them. As long as they're ready for the trial, that’s all that matters.’
'It’s called being conscientious and organised. You always hand your reports in at the last minute. This is about your total lack of respect for the position I hold. You coast along, abusing our relationship because you think I’ll go easy on you both. Well, no more.’
‘When the fuck have you ever been easy on either of us?’ Harry hollered.
‘Enough,’ Hermione thundered. ‘I can see quite clearly what the issue is. You don’t respect me like you did Kingsley because I was born without a penis.’
‘Oh, here we go,’ Ron murmured as he munched on a hobnob.
‘Here we go what?’
‘You. Can’t you just accept that sometimes, if someone doesn’t jump when you yell jump, it’s not because you’re a witch?’
Hermione felt anger course through her.
‘I’ve had years of this. If I was a wizard, you would both respect my authority. I’ve proven that I’m academically smarter than both of you. You wouldn’t question my judgment if I was a fellow chap. You would do what I told you to do when I told you to do it, and you wouldn’t go behind my back and try to sabotage my career.’
Harry sighed.
‘We’re not sabotaging anything. We respect you. I can’t say I like your current attitude, though. You need to stop being so obsessive.’
‘Obsessive. You’re saying I’m being obsessive?’
‘Well, yeah,’ Harry admitted. ‘You’re too intense about everything. You’re like a bloody drill sergeant. Actually, no. They’re more chilled out than you. I swear, one day, your head is going to explode.’
Ron chose that moment to chug down a bottle of Coca-Cola and then blow his nose. Hermione gave him a bitter look.
'I see I have your undivided attention,' she said bitingly.
Ron had his back to her as he looked for a bin for his used tissue.
A caustic feeling flooded her as she glared at two of the four prominent male figures in her life. For a moment, she longed to replace Ron and Harry with her dad and her feline, Crookshanks. They always hugged and comforted and made her feel better about herself.
‘If I was a wizard, I wouldn’t have to fight for basic respect from my staff, er, colleagues. It would just be given to me. That’s the law in bloke world.’
Harry gave a scoff.
‘You have no idea how the bloke world works, do you? Men have to fight every day for basic respect. Not just from men but from women too. We’re always being judged.’
Hermione gave a sardonic jeer.
‘That’s such rubbish. You’ve had the lot handed to you at birth. You’ve never had to fight for respect.’
Ron lifted an eyebrow as he shovelled a dozen hula hoops into his mouth and crunched them down.
'I said no crumbs, Ron.'
‘I'm being super careful.' Ron said with a grin. 'I’d love to see you attempt to cope in the bloke world. You couldn’t handle five minutes of it. Wizards only tolerate your bossiness because you’re a woman; if we’re honest, we find it more than a little bit sexy when you go all pompous. Believe me, if you were a man, you wouldn’t get away with it.’
Hermione shook her head with incredulity.
‘Plenty of arrogant boss men are much worse than I am.’
‘Yeah, and they’ve all taken their punches for being assholes. That’s what bloke world is. Taking your punches and carrying on.’
‘I don’t find bossiness in a witch remotely sexy at all,’ Harry interjected.
Ron carried on. ‘When a witch knows she’s pushed it too far and has upset us, you do that thing with your eyes where you make them all big and innocent, like Bambi, then you flutter those eyelashes and look all, you know, fragile and delicate, and blokes just, well, we forgive you any old nonsense when you do that. Witches get away with so much crap. Us blokes can’t use those magic tricks of yours.’
Hermione’s eyes widened with ferocity.
‘I’ve never fluttered my eyelashes to elicit sympathy or manipulate a man's feelings to my advantage.’
It was Ron's turn to give her an incredulous look, which Hermione ignored.
‘I’d make the best wizard in the world. I understand how it feels to not be listened to. I would be emphatic. I would be understanding. I would-’
Ron scoffed loudly.
‘Let me tell you this for nothing. If you were a wizard, and you'd had that haughty attitude at Hogwarts, you’d have spent all your school days being swung around by your bollocks. You wouldn’t have survived. No bloke would have tolerated even half of your shit. Even Neville would have knocked you out.’
Hermione’s jaw dropped at Ron’s assertion, and her grip on the ring was about to draw blood.
‘That’s such a nonsensical belief. I was an assertive student who was focused on self-improvement. These are character traits men admire in other men.’
Ron lifted his eyebrows at Harry, who responded with the same gesture.
‘You're completely ignorant about the world of men. Why do you think Malfoy never went anywhere without Crabbe and Goyle?’ asked Ron.
‘I would not have been a target for bullying,’ Hermione admonished. ‘I wish I was a wizard. My life would be so much easier.’
Ron smirked.
'You haven’t got the first clue about what being a man is all about. I admit, we don’t have all your womanly stuff to handle. I don't envy you any of that, but that’s the only positive. Our world can be a living hell, and you need to be one tough bastard to survive it. It’s dog-eat-dog out there. Luckily, Harry and I are two tough bastards. You’re far too sensitive to be a man. Believe me, the grass is greener on your side of the fence. You don’t know how lucky you are.’
‘I am one tough bastard,’ Hermione seethed.
Ron made a non-commital noise.
‘Yeah, ok. You’ve had your moments, but let’s get real. You’ve always been the brains of the operation. When things get brutal, it's us blokes that step up and protect you.’
Hermione glared at her other half.
‘That summary has so many holes in it I don’t even know where to begin with it all. Harry. Do you have anything to add to Weasley’s sweeping statement?’
Harry shrugged.
‘I reckon you’re imagining your persecution. Ron’s right. Being a man is hard work. Each day is a constant battle. We’re always having to prove ourselves.’
‘That’s absolute nonsense. Men live their lives in easy mode. You spend most of your time eating, napping and wasting time playing irrelevant sports and games. Both of you,’ Hermione faltered. ‘Actually, I take that back about you, Harry. You didn’t have any easy start in life, and your teenage years were fraught with angst.’
Harry sniffed.
‘Thank you for acknowledging that I didn’t live my life in easy mode.’
She sensed a subtle acrimony in his tone, moved past it and turned her attention to Ron.
‘But you and most other men in the world do live a life so easy, so charmed that I’m quite amazed you dare to speak the words you do to me. You’re also a pureblood. I suppose, in your favour, you don’t quite tick all the boxes due to you not being born upper class. I suppose you have been systematically discriminated against by the filthy rich because of that, so at least you have an inkling of what I have endured.’
Ron gave his girlfriend a heavy stare.
‘So, I was born to live my life in easy mode. Is that right, Hermione? And you’ve lived your life being what, persecuted and oppressed?’
‘Yes. I, as a muggle-born witch, have had to overcome supreme prejudice due to my blood status and sex.’
Harry and Ron both gave her a long look.
‘What sort of prejudice have you had to overcome?’ Ron asked.
‘Death Eaters prejudice and rampant sexism.’
‘Right, but, well, Death Eaters hate just about everyone, so, if anything, you were treated the same as almost everybody else was. And I don’t recall you ever being the victim of rampant sexism. Most wizards I know are too terrified of you to even say hello. ’
Hermione gave Ron a dismissive look.
‘As a woman, I’m always expected to be the cook.’
‘But, you don’t cook. We've given up trying to get you to cook,’ Ron said with a puzzled look. ‘You hardly ever use the oven. You do bake a nice cake, but only on special occasions. Mum makes most of our grub, and we reheat it up in that microwave thingy in the kitchen 'cause you’re always working late. When you have a day off, we get a takeaway.’
Hermione bypassed that observation.
‘And when you do the washing, all you do is throw it in that white metal box thing,’ Ron rambled. ‘Clothes go in the one that makes the water first, and then, when it’s finished spinning, you chuck it in that one that goes hot. Even I can manage that. We take turns to wash our stuff.’
‘We share the chores because I reject traditional social norms. I’m a career witch, carving the way forward for all witches.’
Harry gave a laborious sigh.
‘Plenty of witches carved their way forward in the wizarding world centuries ago,’ he stated.
Hermione frowned.
‘Guys don’t have to deal with menstruation either. You have it so easy.’
‘But you lot don’t have to deal with the male sex drive,’ Ron muttered.
‘Pardon?’ Hermione snapped.
‘Nothing.’
Hermione gave a bitter scoff at the two wizards.
‘Oh, with my intellect and natural leadership abilities, if I’d been born a boy, I would have already been Minister of Magic.’
Harry gave her a sceptical look.
‘You’re already the youngest Deputy Head of Magical Law Enforcement in history, including wizards, and you’re only twenty-three. You’ve been fast-tracked at a ridiculous rate.’
‘The patriarchy is holding me back.’
Ron’s head slumped back.
‘Oh, fuck. Not this again.’
Hermione clenched the ring in her palm as she poured her indignation and resentment into it.
‘By the misfortune of my birth, I shall always need to run faster and be better just to keep up with even the most inadequate of males. Oh, how aggrieved am I by the biased system that keeps me in chains.’
‘We’ve had three witch ministers running the country in the last century,’ Harry proclaimed. ‘No one is holding you back.’
Hermione gazed into space as she ignored Harry’s pertinent point.
‘This injustice is the bane of my existence. If I had been born a boy into a wealthy pureblood family, my entire life would have been very much improved. I would have been respected simply because I was a man, as the patriarchy has brainwashed everyone into believing that a man should always be respected. When I told my employees to write a report, they would have immediately written it out. They wouldn’t go behind my back and go on missions I had not permitted.’
'If you were a bloke, Hermione, with your current attitudes, I’d have done exactly the same thing, patriarchy or no patriarchy,' Harry grumbled. 'I don't know where you get your ideas from sometimes. Men don't automatically respect other men just for being men. Respect needs to be earned, penis or no penis. That's how it actually works in the real world. I didn't follow the rules because I'm being watched and needed to be sly.’
Hermione gave him a belligerent look.
‘You’re so blind you can’t even recognise you’re own inherent sexism. For shame, Harry. I thought you were a man who adhered to the morals and value of equity.’
‘I do adhere to the morals and value of equity,’ Harry hissed.
Hermione played with the emerald ring and felt the compulsion to slide the smooth, cool gold band on her ring finger. She held her hand up to her eye level and gazed into deep green.
‘I suppose this ring represents the union of marriage. Another patriarchal idea, designed to keep women suppressed.’
Ron pursed his lips.
‘I’m not going to force you up the aisle at wand point. The sight of a weeping bride being dragged, kicking and screaming to the altar isn’t a great look for the family photos.’
Hermione gazed at the emerald ring that reminded her of Harry’s eyes.
‘Oh, to have been born into a life in easy mode. How sweet that would have been. Alas, my life is one of turmoil and struggle as I fight the man.’
'Have you quite finished?’ Harry asked in a sharp tone.
'Yes. I've heard more than enough. Now, go and get your eyes tested, and I’ll speak with the cleaning and maintenance teams about their over-zealous fan and the dodgy pipe in the gents.’
Harry gave a loud tutt and glared at Hermione.
‘And what about the whole Rosier and Travers issue?’
‘No more stakeouts. If there is any evidence of wrong-doing, we follow ministry protocol, but until then, do nothing.’
‘Right,’ Harry muttered.
‘And don’t keep things from me again. You wouldn’t have treated Kingsley like this. I don’t want to be a victim of your blatant sexism ever again.’
Harry flushed an angry red as Hermione turned her attention back to the ring.
‘Oh, a woman’s life is fraught with danger. We flirt with patriarchal tyranny daily.’
Ron chugged down some more Coca-Cola as he gave Hermione a wry look.
‘Like I said, love, you're lucky you're on that side of the fence. You'd hate being a bloke.'
She gave him a withering look as she assumed her hand-on-hip pose and gave him an imperious look.
‘I would be epic as a wizard. I understand the ramifications of the patriarchal system we're all forced to live in. You are privileged in ways a woman will never experience. I would change the world effortlessly if I were born into the ruling class; the world would be my oyster. I would live a charmed life where everything I desired came to me as easily as breathing. I would be able to move mountains with all the obstacles removed and turn this world into a utopia.’
‘So, you wouldn’t want to have been born a poor man?’ Ron asked with an innocent expression.
‘I’m well aware of the class system. It punches down on us all except the elite few. I want to live a life without the patriarchal hierarchy there to thwart me.’
‘Yeah,’ Harry mumbled. ‘Being caught in the middle-class poverty trap as the only daughter of two dentists must have been so awful for you. Did daddy not buy you that pony you wanted?’
‘I sense your derision, but I maintain my core beliefs. To be born a rich, pureblood wizard is to be born with a lifetime of unconditional and unearned respect from the populace. And I didn’t want a pony. I’d have been too high up, and you know I don’t like heights. Daddy took me for skiing lessons instead.’
‘You never respected Malfoy,’ Harry remarked.
‘There are always exceptions to the rule,’ Hermione snapped. ‘Malfoy was a cretin—an awful, selfish, conceited wizard who abused his privilege. I would never have been like him. One must always consider the greater good.’
‘So, do you believe that if you had been born a privileged, wealthy, pureblood wizard, you would have still retained your supreme righteousness?’ Harry queried.
‘Yes. My soul seeks excellence. By being born a wizard, it would simply mean my journey to govern humanity to a more magnanimous future would be devoid of the myriad of obstacles put in place for witches by the patri-’
‘archy,’ Harry echoed. ‘Yeah, we get it.’
Hermione gazed at Ron and Harry as she stroked the emerald ring on her finger and mused aloud.
‘I wish I’d been born a privileged, wealthy, pureblood wizard. If I was a bloke, then maybe you two would respect me enough to hand in your reports on time and not undermine my authority.’
‘What the-’
Hermione jolted in surprise at Harry’s stricken face, accompanied by an astounded tone. He looked shocked at something and was moving quickly towards her.
Ron’s loud roar made her jump. The fact he’d leapt out of his chair agitated her immensely. Ron only moved that fast in the presence of danger. She turned around to see the source of this panic, but only the wall made itself known.
‘THE RING!' Ron bellowed. 'GET IT OFF!’
‘What about the, oh.’
Hermione looked down to see a green mist rapidly curling up her arm as she immediately attempted to wrench the emerald ring off her finger but to no avail.
‘IT'S STUCK!’ she shrieked. She could feel the tingles in her arm as panic overwhelmed her.
Ron sprung towards her but was thrown backwards as the green mist began to seep inside her. She could dimly hear Harry’s cries as she saw him hurtle sideways, crashing into the wall as she winced.
What was this magic? It was enveloping her, invading her. Her whole world was turning upside down. Literally.
Her office began to spin around her. Ron and Harry were becoming formless blurs on the floor.
Her mind was convulsing with terror as the green mist pervaded her vision, and then she felt herself hover weightlessly. The eerie sound of silence reached her ears.
This silence was more terrifying than anything before. Was she alone? Where was she?
Where were her bodyguards? Er, she corrected herself. She meant her boyfriend and best friend.
Hermione whimpered.
That bloody ring was responsible for all this chaos. Harry told her he’d checked it for dark spells, but he’d obviously not been as diligent as she would have been.
Bloody men. Did she have to do everything herself?
All of a sudden, Harry and Ron's suspicions about Rosier and Travers' nefarious intentions didn’t sound as glib to her ears.
Where was she going? The silence was deafening. Was she even standing? It felt like she was floating in thick sludge.
What was this madness?
Her eyes grew heavy as the green mist overpowered her, and she lost all concept of space and time as she was submerged in the darkness of oblivion.
Venus
She's got it
Yeah, baby, she's got it
I'm your Venus, I'm your fire
And your desire
Well, I'm your Venus, I'm your fire
And your desire
Goddess on the mountain top
Burning like a silver flame
The summit of beauty and love
And Venus was her name
Wow
She's got it
Yeah, baby, she's got it
I'm your Venus, I'm your fire
And your desire
Well, I'm your Venus, I'm your fire
And your desire
Yeah, baby, she's got it
Yeah, baby, she's got it
Yeah, baby, she's got it
‘And that was Banarama with their tremendous girl power anthem, Venus. This is the ‘songs most of us have somewhere in the house for getting the party going,’ hour, and I’m your host, Clive Grant. The time is six minutes past eight, and you’re listening to Capital FM. Keep tuned. Traffic news is next. Spoiler alert, the morning traffic is its usual hell and no one, not even royalty, is going anywhere fast.’
Hermione groggily awoke, blindly reaching out toward the noise, grabbed at a cable and then pulled the plug of the radio alarm out of its socket with her eyes still squeezed shut.
This body was not her body.
She was in a very comfortable bed. That was about the only thing she knew for sure. Everything else was unknowable.
This body was not her body.
This dire thought had taken precedence, leaving all other thoughts untouched for the immediate present.
She could feel that the shape of her legs and torso had changed form. Even her skin felt different. Rougher, somehow.
She knew she should open her eyes, but she was actually terrified to do so. Her heart began to thud rapidly.
There was something very distinctive happening between her thighs. Something that she recognised but only from witnessing from an outsider's perspective.
An appendage that no magic on earth could successfully replicate was attached to her.
No magic could do this. No, scrap that. Polyjuice could do this.
But polyjuice wasn’t accompanied by green mist, blackouts and waking up in strange beds.
Were Ron and Harry here? Wherever here was.
She moved her right arm. Ok. That was at least working. She wasn’t paralysed. Or was she? Could she move all of this body? Whoever’s body this was.
Hermione wriggled her toes, then her fingers, and relief flooded her as they moved. She was alive. That much was clear.
But alive in whose vessel? This was not her body.
She forced her eyes open with great strength of will and stared up at a ceiling she did not recognise.
She was in a large room. White, pristine tiles hovered above. An ostentatious chandelier was hanging in the centre.
She tentatively brought her hands down on a bare tummy. It was harder than she remembered. Broader. Her hands were larger—her fingers sturdier.
The emerald ring had disappeared.
With gritted teeth, she explored further.
Her chest was much flatter. Her breasts had disappeared. Her chin began to wobble. Was all this some bizarre, cruel prank played on her by what was left of Voldemort’s admirers?
Perhaps.
She didn’t need to think that far ahead just yet. Right here, right now, was all that mattered. She would face this one prod at a time.
The flesh between her thighs was pulsating in smooth, rhythmic motions, pushing against some loose fabric. She wasn’t naive enough to not know what was happening. Ron’s member did much the same thing in the morning.
She dared not touch the morning glory. It was there, and this knowledge had already overwhelmed her. It belonged to this body she was inhabiting. Every muscle and sinew confirmed that.
She gently touched her jaw. His jaw. This body that she now dwelled in was decidedly that of a man.
Hermione didn’t need to be the brightest witch of her age to realise that.
Her fingertips felt soft, light stubble as Hermione moved her fingers further and stifled a sob at what she found.
Her hair. Her glorious, bushy mane had vanished. She had been shorn. There was some thick hair that she supposed was a quiff of some sort, and she could feel what was unmistakable sideburns, but her most infamous trademark was no more. She felt strangely bereft.
How was this happening? If this was a prank, then heads would roll. She would never see the funny side of this, ever.
There was the unmistakable sound of a door opening as Hermione resisted the urge to scream.
Who the bloody hell was this?
She tore her gaze away from the relative safety of the white ceiling and bravely forced her eyes toward the sound of footsteps approaching her.
Her much more chiselled jaw clenched at the sight that greeted her.
‘Morning, Mercury.’
Hermione’s heart rate went into overdrive as a very familiar voice pervaded her senses, and she stared with befuddlement at the new arrival.
This wasn’t happening.
This couldn’t be happening.
This was even more impossible than the muscle that currently throbbed between her thighs.
‘Sirius?’
Her voice was low and deep as she whispered a word that made her entire being tremble in shock.
‘Sirius, eh? That must have been some stag do, pup. You’ve gone back to factory settings. Why don’t you try calling me Dad like you usually do?'
Grey eyes crinkled up at the sides as a glass of fizzy liquid was placed on the side table next to a grey wand that she could only assume belonged to the man whose body she was in.
Hermione stared soundlessly at the man she was absolutely sure had departed this world via the veil in the ministry battle years before.
Was this Sirius? He looked a lot better than the last time she’d seen him. His handsome face didn’t look sunken and grey. His dark hair was thick and glossy, and his grey eyes were gleaming.
A terror she had never before known engulfed her senses.
‘I heard you crashing around at the crack of dawn. Here, drink this. It’ll make you feel better. We need you at your finest today. Today is the day my boy finally becomes a man.’
Hermione made an odd spluttering sound as Sirius gazed at her with blatant fondness.
‘You've truly surpassed yourself this time, kid. I knew you were destined for greatness, but fuck. Even I'm impressed.'
‘Greatness?’ Hermione managed to garble.
Sirius grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a manly shake.
‘You’ve made me so proud. It’s been a bumpy road, but all’s well that ends well. You get to spend the rest of your life with a witch most wizards would kill for.’
‘Kill for.’
Those two words were barely croaked.
Sirius gave her a proud look.
‘My son, Mercury Black, is going to be the husband of the most ridiculously gorgeous minx in the wizarding world, Fleur Delacour. You’re one very lucky bastard. If I were twenty years younger, I’d have been all over her like a rash.’
Even with everything going on, Hermione was scandalised to hear these words.
‘That’s an incredibly inappropriate thing to say.’
Sirius snickered.
'Oh, mate. Good one. A lot of people don’t get you, but I reckon you’re just about the funniest fucker on the planet.’
Hermione felt her head judder. Fleur Delacour. She was very certain Fleur was already the wife of Bill Weasley and mother to Ron’s niece. A soon-to-be sister-in-law to her should Ron ever get around to proposing to her between meals. What was happening? Was all this some sort of lucid hallucination?
Everything around her felt real.
Hermione stared in dread at the doppelganger of Sirius Black.
‘Draco’s already arrived. He’s certainly taking his best-man duties seriously. He’s got the house elves working hard to finish setting up the ballroom for later. They’re loving it all. It’s been a long time since Black Manor hosted a wedding.’
‘Draco? House elves? Black Manor?’
Her mind completely split at this revelation.
‘Merlin, pup. I suggest you drink that potion sooner rather than later. You look like you’ve taken a quaffle to the head.’
Hermione could only stare in terror at Sirius.
She could no longer form even ragged sounds; such was the shock the last three minutes had provided.
She had awoken in an upside-down world as a wizard, with a dead man professing to be her father by her side and an imminent marriage to Fleur Delacour on the horizon with Malfoy as her best man.
The distressing, unattended appendage between her thighs gave another quaking throb as the room began to spin once more, and Hermione promptly fainted.