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He poked his head out the green flames of her office’s fireplace. 3pm on the dot. She always hated being late for class, and he remembered it well.
And there she was, behind her desk and studiously reading one of those folding computer slates. Healthier face; shorter, controlled hair. Crisp Muggle clothes. All just as in the victory pictures from yesterday’s paper.
She glanced up with the smile that won a commanding majority in the election. “Well,” she said, her tone friendly and unsurprised. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“The same.” The fireplace was quite immaculate, in his estimation.
They tried a handshake across her massive desk. It was awkward on multiple levels. They then each came halfway around to do a hug. Still awkward, but it felt better.
“Have a seat,” and she pointed to the pair of ornate chairs out front.
He noticed that she almost returned to the chair behind her desk, then took the one next to his. As is proper; after a year in the job he knew that’s how a fellow head of state should be treated.
“So, here we are. You’re looking well, Minister Potter.”
“You too, Prime Minister Granger. Merlin, Hermione, it’s great to see you.”
“Likewise, Harry. I have to say, I never expected you dropping in this way. Congratulations, you deserve this.”
“And to you, of course.”
“Well,” and Hermione leaned on the chair’s arm. “I assume this is where you tell the new PM that magic exists, there’s a country within Britain where people use said magic, et cetera, et cetera?”
“Always a step ahead, you are. I think that sums it up.”
“Smashing.” Her smile closed down, and she waved her arm with irritation. “Honestly, you booked an entire hour for that?”
“Ah.” Harry was at school once more, when he’d forgotten to finish an assignment. “My secretary did. He didn’t know who the new Prime Minister really was.” He didn’t tell her that he had to later explain who Hermione Granger was. Is. Not many remembered that name anymore.
“Harry, I have now over 65 million people and a nuclear arsenal to worry over. Currently, I was meant to be delegating authority over the latter if I’m killed. That was, until a new, quite unmovable, appointment magically appeared on my calendar instead.” Hermione gave him a glare, about half strength he reckoned. “It’s truly wonderful to see you, Harry, but let’s plan better for these little chats in the future, shall we?”
He nodded. The ‘in the future’ part made him feel optimistic.
With that, the new PM sat back with a huff into the heavy padding.
“A fun way to start,” Hermione went on, not quite gazing in his direction. “Yesterday was all ceremony, assorted important items like formalising the cabinet positions and figuring out the upstairs residence. When it’s over and I’m alone, I get a message from that wizened old portrait behind you. That I now have a 3pm with ‘a government minister’ and that I should, and I quote, ‘ensure your maidservant rings the bell loudly to remind you, as this is far more important than whatever fiddleswop your small mind would undoubtably be struggling over.’ Lovely to see things haven’t changed.”
Her attention returned, the glare faded to… bemusement, he thought. “Still, you’re my guest, and we apparently have time. Tea?”
Hermione gestured to the service set out, and Harry reached into his robes for his wand.
“I’d rather you don’t.” Her manner made it clear it wasn’t a suggestion. “I’ll pour if you’re unable without using that, don’t fret.”
He decided to brush off the slight. “I’ll manage. I seem to remember someone spilling it all over a chessboard second year and drowning the pieces.”
“One time, Potter. That was one time.” He heard a bit of the Hermione he liked to remember the most, and allowed a small grin.
~~~~~~
“Cheers.”
The tea here was good. Harry made a note to ask for samples to take home.
“So,” he began after opening sips. “Second day. Just under a year for me.”
“Yes, I know.”
He was halfway through talking of Shacklebolt’s ‘will he, won’t he,’ resignation dance until Kings did at last step away, when he realised what she said.
Harry took a breath. Onwards, items he promised himself to cover with her. “I didn’t learn till he told me about this meeting, about what the Ministers do with their counterparts. He also told me he was undercover in the Muggle Minister’s staff before the second war had gotten fully underway.” He watched her unchanging expression. “And no, I don’t have anyone doing that. Here, undercover, I mean.”
“Yes, Harry, I know. But you saying so is appreciated, nonetheless.”
No, he won’t reply to that. Not yet. “I started watching you in the papers, when you started appearing on the front pages.”
“I have to admit, I did the same when you left the DMLE for the Wizengamot. You were very distinguished in the pictures.” Hermione had a slight smile. “Tell Luna I do love reading her paper, by the way. Informative and hilarious, often simultaneously. The Prophet hasn’t changed, however, has it. Still the Ministry mouthpiece.”
Harry smiled back. “I have no connection to it. Any more than you have to The Guardian, The Times, or The Financial Times.”
“Hmmm.” The smile grew to full and honest. “Somebody’s finally doing the reading for class. Well done, Harry, sincerely well done.”
Hermione put down her tea, and pulled her chair around to better face him. “How is life, really? I saw the big news. Good to see a wedding at the Burrow without interruptions.”
“It was incredible. Far fewer assaults.” Harry pulled his own chair to do the same. “We were all sorry you couldn’t make it, Hermione.”
“Yes.” She stared down for a moment. “It was my first major trial, and I… there wasn’t time for anything else.”
He won’t press. “And now this. I’d been an Auror for too long, complained about laws too much according to everyone, and got carried into politics.” Also injuries, and children to think of. And a wife, who pushed him to get out of the field before someone got lucky.
“Ginny’s good too. Finally retired a couple of years ago, she wanted to go out on top. Coaching the Harpies now. Quidditch is getting bigger all the time and she loves being part of it.” And it loved her. She got louder cheers than either team on her first game as coach.
“Yes,” Hermione said dismissively. “Heightened levels of sports enthusiasm are a common sign of a society approaching collapse.”
“Or, that people love sports.” Harry took a turn to work a glare. “You never did, so don’t put down people who do, Prime Minister.”
“Touché, Minister.” She took a sip. “You know, you’re the first person who’s snarked back to me in a long time. You may have to visit more often, Harry.”
“Or,” he counters, “you could get people on your staff with backbones. I have lots. Every time I start to go Fudge, I get a hex that plants a bright green bowler on my head.”
"Hmmm. I’ll take it under advisement. Please send me a picture of that, regardless. Or let others know it’s fine to do so.”
Harry put his cup down and kept the clank as low as he could. “Look, it’s rubbish that no one tried to see you before now. You didn’t seem to want to stay in contact, either. Fault on us both, we’re both too damn stubborn.”
“We are, yes. But I simply saw no reason to put on robes again, save for court or graduations. Haven’t picked up my wand since I left you all that night. Still in my bag, off in a storage shed I believe. You’d think the residence at Number 10 would have enough space for all my books…”
“No extension charms then.”
“No magic at all. And we know how people without magic are treated in that world. I didn’t go back. Others came forward, instead.”
His face showed the question, and so she continued. “The ones everyone hated the most, of course. They had limited options, as you’ll recall, after sentencing, fines, and confiscations. All justified, for the most part. And then public ostracization. All mostly not.” She turned her attention to the ceiling and considers. “I wouldn’t call them good friends, or even friends at all. ‘Associates,’ I guess. They learned how to live out here, how to be human. It gives me hope for the future, Harry.”
Hermione poured a refill. “Plenty of people, along with people you don’t know. Ordinary people eager to let us know what’s happening on your side.”
“Since when did we have sides, Hermione?” he demanded.
“Harry, we’ve always had sides.” Her voice stayed calm. “We’ve just usually both been on the same one.”
“All of them, they’ve, what, immigrated? Left magic, like you did?”
“Not necessarily. So long as they respect this land and its peoples, don’t use magic openly or to circumvent the law, they’re free to live however they choose. Basically, don’t cheat. Which is what magic’s all about, isn’t it?”
“I remember someone studying like mad for years to learn magic. Top of her class. I wouldn’t call that cheating, not with all that effort.”
“I’ll take that point, yes. A palpable hit. No matter what, if they keep it under wraps, all is well. Those who don’t, we’ve taken care of ourselves. After Riddle & Company, we’ve developed a good many ways.”
“‘We’ meaning you, I assume.”
“Not at all, Harry. There’s plenty of people, wand users and those without wands. Most of them still live in your lands. They let us know what’s really happening, what’s not being reported.”
“That part I figured.” He paused and made a decision. “We know of individuals who’ve gone missing, Hermione. Known Muggle-haters, tied to assorted events but nothing that can stick to them, no actual crimes charged. Your doing?”
“I’ll neither confirm nor deny, Harry. Learned that phrase early in my career; a wonderful magic spell. I will confirm that we’ll not be treated as toys or pets anymore. We’ve people in every magical society. We’ll not be caught unawares again.”
“I couldn’t agree more. I just wish you’d let me know, Hermione. I could have helped.”
“Perhaps. I know you. I don’t know who you might tell.” She made a similar pause, and he can see a similar decision in her eyes. “Did you know Riddle had a daughter, Harry? Bellatrix was the mother, we think.”
Harry’s teacup rattled, and it seemed he might lose his lunch.
“Yes, rather my reaction as well.” Hermione waited until he recovered. “Quite insane, brilliant at magic, intolerant of Muggles, just like her parents. She’d been linked to over a dozen deaths and twice that in unrecoverable Cruciatus Curses.”
Merlin’s saggy… Harry was ready to Floo back. This was serious.
Hermione noticed. “Relax. She’s also past tense. A single sniper shot from 800 metres, half a mile for you. Cremated and the ashes mixed in multiple barrels of cement, then dropped deep into the Atlantic. Britainnia rules the waves, after all.”
She put down her cup. “We’re not waiting for the next Dark Lord, or Dark Lady. Riddle Mark II or Grindelwald Mark III. And I know personally Britain can’t trust in the Ministry to protect it from wands. No offence, Harry, but it’s our country. Ours to defend.”
“Look, I get it, Hermione. They, me, we’ve also had our share. Muggles harming our people. Kidnappings, mostly. Children, often. Trying to force wizards and witches to use magic for their benefit, or killing them in the name of their god. We’ve taken care of them as well. They’ll not be harming anyone again.”
Huh. He suspected from her wide eyes that this was a fact she didn’t know. “Thank you, Harry. On their behalf, on the behalf of Britain, thanks.” She appeared possibly relieved, he thought. “Have no doubt, I do want to work with you. I’d like to think we can both trust each other. I was so hoping you’d get the job.”
Wait… “Hermione, did you have anything to do with that?”
“I gave up magic, how could I?” His brows furrowed behind the round lenses. “Ask me no questions, Harry, and I’ll tell you no lies.”
Harry knew that face. No one will get a word out of her on that topic.
“I don’t like magic anymore. Seeing it from this side, it’s terrible. It makes it so easy to perform such horrid actions, Harry. A large part of why I did this, entered politics, was to protect Britain from magic.”
Hermione put up one finger. “To start, the endless Muggle Obliviations simply to cover up sloppy or hurtful spellwork. Harry, that really needs to stop. The actions of your people shouldn’t require the mental manipulation of mine, and their charms aren’t as precise as you believe them to be. There’s usually lasting damage, subtle but present.”
“Hermione, when did people become yours or mine?”
“You know what I mean, Harry, stop dissembling.”
“Alright, that wasn’t a fair response. I’m open to better ideas.”
“And I will admit I don’t have them. Yet. But we need to address it. We don’t have to decide immediately, neither of us are going anywhere and I will also admit to possibly being twenty years away from the latest in memory charm theory.”
“There’s been advancement, according to the Unspeakables, but I’m no expert either. The portrait will respond to you; just ask to speak to me. Ah, speak to the Minister for Magic, I mean.”
“For shame. He won’t recognise the Chosen One?” She raised her cup in salute.
“’Mione!” But he clinked her cup.
“At the least, I want records of Obliviations over the last ten years. We’ll start there, reviewing the cases on our end.”
“I can do that. It’s downright scary what I can do, actually. And I’ll want records, ten years, of unexplained or odd occurrences. You know what I’ll be after.”
“Fine. Easy, to be honest. Since my first cabinet posting, I’ve been working my best to keep reports like those under the radar. As there are a lot of them, Harry.”
She took a moment to explain radar to him, along with enough science to anchor the explanations. Carefully, factually, and not condescendingly, and Godric she must be right deadly in her version of the Wizengamot. Parliament? Yes, Parliament.
Science. “You were right, you know. Astronomy’s all textbooks now, no more staring up. I took an enchanted telescope out one clear night. Lights everywhere.”
“I’m not happy about that,” and it was clear she’s not. “There’s a lot of things I know will happen that I’m not happy about. The Statute, for one. It won’t hold, Harry. Not much longer.”
Yeah. He knew that as well, and shook his head in dismay.
“If it does fall, it won’t be pretty. Every single magic user will be hunted down and killed, or weaponised. Witch hunts for real, and this time real witches will be burned, Harry. There are fires hotter than fire nowadays.”
“You don’t think I know that? I know you have those bombs, and also you know that there are people who can control the people with those bombs. Not only witches will be burned. Nobody wins, Hermione. Nobody.”
“Quite. We need to work to ensure that doesn’t happen. A smooth rollout. I’d like to get your people to talk with my people and hash out a plan. Make it a priority. We’ll need to get the ICW involved at some point, as much as that distresses me. I’ll leave the Floo open, we can use that for our teams to exchange working papers.”
“Sounds… hang on, what do you mean leave it open?”
That smile, it was one he remembered on revelation of a bug and a jar. Or of the last time he saw her, and a charm none of them had expected. “Oh, I arranged for that to be blocked off ages ago. Had to get the fireplace reconnected when I heard you were coming.”
He laughed. “And I’m glad I did. Seriously, Hermione, it’s good to see you again. And a ring on your finger too!” Actually, he noticed on entering the room. Basic Auror training. Only now did it seem a good time to bring it up.
“Yes, we met at Cambridge, married twelve years now. And oh yes, Paul knows about magic. He left your world when it didn’t manifest for him.”
“Oh, he’s a–”
“I’d rather you not use that demeaning term, Minister.” Her voice was a cutting curse. “He’s a human being, not an embarrassment. He’s a marvellous man and I do love him so.”
She took his hand and brought him around to her side of the desk. Where the pictures resided.
Paul’s picture showed a decent enough fellow. Happy. The two of them together in the frame set next to it, even happier.
And children. A boy and a girl, about the same age; him with black, bushy hair, her with flaxen, sandy brown tresses. “Robby and Jeanie,” she said proudly. “No, no magic,” before he asked, “though it’s early.”
They also look happy. “We should talk if they do. Hogwarts would welcome them, Hermione. Minerva especially. Neville’s there now, the Deputy Headmaster.”
She bit her lip. “Yes. We’ll, we’ll discuss that should it happen. There are other options.”
One picture has a mangy, orange beast in her arms. “Crooks passed a few years ago. He had a good run.”
“And was an excellent rat catcher.”
“He was. I’ve gained a bonus for my new job, a tabby cat called Larry. Or he’s gained me. Larry lives here, a more permanent resident of the building than many PMs. I’ll invite you to meet him next time. He’s a darling.”
Hermione rested against the side of the desk and brought his own beringed hand up. “And you? Three, right?”
“Three. James, Albus, Lily.”
She giggled, and twenty years melted away. “Albus? Seriously?”
“He was almost Sirius.”
“Better than Severus.”
“Well, don’t ever tell Ginny, but…”
~~~~~~
The hour was almost over. Harry poured a final cup, and it hit him. “Clever, the tea’s stayed warm.”
“More science, Harry. Small, pressure-sensitive heaters in the tray. You’d be surprised how much magic you can do with science.” She turned, eyes inquisitive. “So, how does the rest of this work? Do you meet the Queen next? Or is it just the PM?”
“No, just you. Maybe… maybe she should know as well?”
“Assuming she doesn’t already. I’ve met her a couple of times before yesterday, when I officially took over. She always smiled at me like she knows more than she lets on. Like Dumbledore did occasionally.”
“Sounds like we should do a joint visit then?”
“Sounds like. I’ll see about getting time on Her Majesty’s schedule.”
“I can ask Kingsley about it too. He may have met her on his own, he’s like that.”
“Speaking of. I know my predecessor never mentioned meeting you, or Shacklebolt, ever.” Hermione grew serious. “Memory charm on them, or a variant Fidelius. Simple coercion, impress upon them that doing so would be ‘disadvantageous to them and their career,’ or the like?”
“No, I didn’t do magic on him!” He managed to not shout. Nearly. “Blimey, do you think that poorly of me?” He took a calming breath. “I did check the one before you, that he wasn’t under anyone’s control, same for his staff and everyone in one of those big meetings with the green table and red binders. I think… you were the Ambassador to America then? I know you were out of the country. I don’t do that, my people don’t do that either, and I’m upset you think we would. I know you left on a bad note, but it’s better than it was.”
“I’d like to think so, Harry. I really would,” and Harry thought she did sound apologetic. “I hear and read a lot, and it’s hard to tell.”
“We don’t have to be enemies, stop trying to make us that. We live on the same planet, Hermione, on the same bloody island. Can’t we be friends again?
She leaned back and crossed her arms. “Why did everyone assume that would be forever? We went through boarding school together, that’s no reason we are bound for life.”
“It wasn’t just school, and you know it. We were more than just schoolmates, we all were. And me, you, and Ron, we were more than even that. We saved both Britains.”
“Yes, of course, but…”
He didn’t let her go on. “And you left. Like I said, you made it clear you weren’t coming back, and if we ever wanted to see you we had to leave too. Either your way or nothing. We were all quite stunned that night, Hermione. It took a while for the press to pick up on it, and when they did it was a firestorm. ‘Golden Girl Banished!’ ‘A Trio Torn Asunder!’ Went on for weeks.”
“Not exactly as I remember it, but it was twenty-odd years ago. I’d like to think I’ve become more…”
“Political?”
“Spot on. Or sociable. I’ve gained better social skills, at least. You as well.”
“Well, we’re both in charge of our nations. We’d better be. Lots of people to care for, like you said.”
Harry stood, and pulled her up with both arms. “Look, maybe we can do lunch? Hermione and Harry, not Ministers but old school friends? Ron too, I didn’t even mention him, he’ll want to see you too.”
“Potters and Grangers and Weasleys, oh my. That will be tough given our jobs but I’m sure we can arrange it. Perhaps dining here at Number 10, one of the secret rooms you could Apparate to. I’ll ensure the wards are down.” He didn’t bother asking about that.
“Hah, can you imagine all our kids together in one room?”
“Hah, yes…”
They laughed like old friends, then that changed to aspects of apprehension.
“Maybe, maybe a picnic in a wide, open, remote field instead? Without a centuries-old building that might not survive the experience?”
“Yeah, that might be best. I’ll add it to the to-do list, Prime Minister.”
She positively beamed. “Oh Harry, you have a to-do list! This might work out after all.”