"Dawlish, please stack my report with yours when you deliver it to Madam Black," said Auror Bates as he slid a file onto the wizard's desk. Standing, he stretched his hands above his head, yawning.
"Do it yourself!" Dawlish snapped without looking up, his quill scribbling. "I don't have time."
Bates raised an eyebrow in befuddlement. "What's your problem man? I'm late for patrol, just give it to Madam Black whenever you see her."
"And I said, I don't have time!" Dawlish stood up, his voice causing a few other Aurors nearby to look up from their own work.
Facing Bates with a sneer, Dawlish picked up his file and pushed it into the older wizard's chest. "Do your work yourself," he hissed.
Bates began to get upset but then a voice from behind interrupted.
"Bates, I'll take that," said Shacklebolt as he came around, holding out his hand. "Dawlish, you can go back to your work."
Handing over his report to the dark-skinned wizard, Bates took his leave. "Thanks Shack."
The Senior Auror simply nodded while Dawlish snorted loudly.
"What is his problem?" Bates whispered to Shacklebolt.
Shacklebolt shook his head. "He and Rufus were close," he answered somewhat reluctantly.
Bates grimaced. "Bad business that, innit? Who would've thought?"
Shacklebolt shrugged. "After that day, I'm just thankful to be alive with my limbs intact."
"Yeah, poor Dunn. He looked so miserable when he was bedridden."
"It was miserable for him," Shacklebolt retorted without heat, "He almost lost his leg. And that was without Moody visiting him in St. Mungos and giving him second-hand trauma of living without a leg."
Bates snickered. "The consequences of being a hero, eh?"
"He was a gre—"
"What the fuck are you guys laughing at?" Dawlish snapped, glaring at the duo.
"None of your fucking business," Bates snapped, finally at the end of his patience with his fellow Auror.
Dawlish came to stand in front of him, meeting his eyes. "Then get the fuck away from my desk."
"Or what?" Bates challenged without looking away.
"Alright, alright, this is not th—" began Shacklebolt but he was cut off.
"You really think you're something, huh?" Dawlish sneered. "Passed on for promotion two times because you're too slow. You thought I didn't know?"
Bates swore. "I will pretend I didn't hear that."
"Oh you heard me alright, you fat fuck!" Dawlish said loudly. "What are you gonna do anyway? It's not like your duelling is any better than your physicals!"
"Spoken like a true traitor!" Bates shot back heatedly, "Still angry Scrimgeour didn't take you away with him on his Dark Lord campaign?"
Dawlish drew his wand in a flash and shot a vicious grey cutting curse at the pot-bellied wizard who flinched but before he could, Shacklebolt was already shielding him with his own.
"Dawlish you will put down your wand this inst—"
"No I will not, Shack!" Dawlish said dangerously, "How dare he call me a traitor? Did he not see how I almost died because Rufus let his fucking grandfa—"
"Really? I thought you were only here to spy on us, you son of a bitch!" Bates taunted, making Shacklebolt turn to him incredulously.
"I swear I will kill yo—"
"THAT'S ENOUGH!"
If not for the command, the bang that followed surely made almost every Auror at their desk flinch. Some even ducked as Dawlish was sent flying into the furthest wall, smacking hard against the tiles and slumping to the floor in an unconscious heap.
Madam Black put her wand away, glaring at them.
"It's bad enough that I have the fools from the Wizengamot questioning me and my department's reliability," she spoke quietly, her tone cold. "I will not tolerate my Aurors fighting among themselves!"
She paused, her eyes shining dark purple, cold fury radiating out of her in waves of angry magical aura. Meeting the shamefaced Auror Bates, she simply raised an eyebrow, making him stumble as he hurried out of the hall to be on his way to patrol.
Meeting the eyes of her Aurors slowly, she spoke again, her anger no less palpable. "There will be changes coming to this department soon. All of you will have a new regimen of physical, mental and fighting assessments to pass. Those who don't will be let go immediately. You will get your schedules today. If you have a problem, don't bother coming to work tomorrow."
Turning to Shacklebolt, she nodded. "I'll see you and Dunn in my office at six."
~~ .
Hermione was sitting down on the stairs to her room at Grimmauld, her face a mixture of worry and anger. She didn't know what it was that was making him so late, but she was quickly running out of patience.
It had been a long couple of weeks since that day, and things were still continuing to spiral into chaos, despite the best efforts of the Ministry and of course, Harry.
He'd been so busy with assisting the Ministry with the damages that she'd only seen him twice since then. The Ministry had been overrun with demands from the public and the Wizengamot had become just a twinge more abusive in laying all of the responsibility on the DMLE. As if that had been all that had gone wrong since the Cup finals. If only that were the only thing that had gone wrong.
Eighty-five Level 4 and above Ministry officials had been missing since the day of the finals, The Disobedience Day, as the Daily Prophet had coined it. It had taken only a day's worth of investigation to know that Rufus Scrimgeour wasn't the only one whose family had been a prisoner of war that Tom Riddle had freed from captivity.
Conveniently, nobody in the Wizengamot remembered that it was their actions, or rather, inaction, that had prevented thousands of families from getting their loved ones back, who had now joined an enemy that had promised them freedom. Tom Riddle was a master of manipulation, and this supreme act of benevolence had simply made him and his goals superior to the Ministry in a very public and unmistakable manner.
Things in the Ministry had come to a head when Bella had threatened to resign, stating that she didn't need that job after all. She only worked for the Ministry because she loved her country, but if the majority of the Lords and Ladies felt that she wasn't doing her job properly, she should probably step down.
When the news had broken, protests had risen up against some of the biggest and most prominent members of the Wizengamot in major magical districts in the country. The papers had been full of vitriol against the Wizengamot as a whole. Needless to say, the public backlash had been a thing to behold, making Bella's threat finally calm the Wizengamot and make it semi-functional again.
But how did Harry fit into the midst of all this?
Hermione shook her head. That was a mystery yet to be deciphered.
The papers had been unencumbered in singing his praises, demands of giving him the Order of Merlin reaching a high of the likes not seen since Dumbledore's ultimate defeat of Grindelwald. The Wizengamot had almost unanimously decided to present him to be honoured but Harry had declined. And when the Wizengamot had persisted, Bella had put her foot down and told them all—in no uncertain terms—to leave him alone, which they did.
And then a week later, someone in the Wizengamot had a brilliant new idea—to propose Harry's father as the Deputy Minister of Magic. The position of Deputy had not been kept in decades, but seeing the political climate of the country and Lord Potter's acquiescence, the Ministry as a whole had come together to propose him to fill that position.
Ever since his father was nominated, Harry had been frequenting the Ministry with his parents, and Hermione had not seen him properly in far too long.
But well, that ended now.
Standing up, she decided that she was going to write him a nice long letter that she was worried for him and wanted him to see her. She felt a flare of frustration at the fact that she couldn't just march into the Ministry by herself, but then, that was probably for the best.
Climbing up the stairs, she was about to push open the door to her room when she was interrupted.
"Hermione?"
She turned to see Claire standing there on the stairs, smiling at her.
"Can I talk to you?"
Hermione nodded but before she could ask that she accompany her into the kitchen, Claire was walking by her and entering her room.
Hermione felt a flare of irritation swell up inside her. Shaking her head, she followed her in to see her standing by her desk, her head swivelling from side to side, surveying the room.
"This is nice," she commented, "very comfortable."
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "It's Sirius' brother's old room."
"Oh?" Claire asked interestedly. "He doesn't live here anymore?"
Hermione shrugged. She didn't know why she'd supplied that bit of information to her and now, she didn't know how to answer these subsequent questions too.
"I don't know, you'll have to ask Sirius," she answered, leaning against the wall.
Claire indicated towards the chair. "May I?"
Hermione nodded, both irritated and amused that she hadn't bothered to ask for permission before entering her room but was now asking before sitting in it.
"I wanted to thank you for joining me and Delacour in helping Harry and his family that day," Claire said, in her infuriatingly perfect accent. Sometimes, she didn't sound like a French witch at all. "We were outnumbered but you fought very incredibly."
Hermione didn't know how to take the compliment so she smiled thinly. "There was no time to think about numbers. It was fight or be killed."
"Indeed," she said, "I can tell you that not many witches, not even several years older than you would ever enter a dire situation like that as easily as you had done that day."
Hermione quickly crushed the dark thoughts that arose as a result of thinking about that day. Seeing Harry go face to face with Riddle had been both incredible and nightmarish.
"I was only doing what Harry needed me to do," she explained.
Claire smiled. Hermione noted with some envy that she looked even more beautiful this way. Dressed in an olive crop top that showed off just the right amount of skin to be tempting, she looked like she knew exactly what she was doing, especially as she loved to hang around the house these days.
"You love him."
Her words made Hermione fold her arms across her chest. A tiny part of her hoped that she didn't appear too defensive.
"Yes. So?" she asked in challenge.
Claire shook her head. "I was simply curious. I just wanted to see if you loved him back."
"Why?" Hermione bit her lip. She couldn't understand her angle here.
Claire giggled. "Don't think too much of it. Harry told me you like to overthink everything."
That threw her off. "Harry told you that?" Hermione asked, dropping her hands, "He talked to you about me?"
"Not directly. He was just thinking of you one evening," Claire revealed, coming to face her.
He was just thinking of you one night. One evening.
Hermione scowled.
"He doesn't talk to you about me?" Claire prompted. Something in her tone just touched Hermione the wrong way.
She turned away. "No. And I think you should leave."
"Oh come on," Claire grasped her arm and proceeded to make her sit on the bed. "You're an intelligent witch. I think you can understand why he talked to me about you but not to you about me."
Hermione frowned, a mixture of anger and curiosity making her pause. "Enlighten me, then." she snapped.
Claire grinned, sitting beside her and then throwing an arm around her neck, her fingers brushing against the curls around her earlobe.
"When he first mentioned your name to me, he was fucking me."
"What?!" shocked, Hermione turned to face her but she was looking ahead.
"He was brooding. I did what I could to make him happy again, and before I knew it, he was fucking me against the wall in the shower—that's when he was talking about you."
Hermione flinched. "I really think you should leave, right now."
But Claire didn't even react to her outburst, and neither did her arm move away from her shoulder. "Normally, when a witch hears another witch's name from the mouth of the wizard who is still inside her, she would be jealous."
"Shut up!" Hermione bellowed. "Just get out and leave me alone!"
"But I wasn't jealous. Not at all," Claire continued as if she'd said nothing, "Instead, I just dried us off and jumped him as soon as we entered the bedroom. "
In hindsight, she won't even be able to clearly define what it was that had made her react that way to the older witch, because in the next moment, Hermione swung her arm. Her fist struck the top of Claire's nose, making the older witch drop down on the floor just as Hermione's knuckles began to ache.
Levelling her wand at the kneeling witch who was bleeding from her nostrils, she snarled. "Get out!"
Claire began to laugh. Using a hand to wipe at her face, she whispered a quick incantation to stop the bleeding.
Hermione gaped at her in fury.
"You're a funny witch, aren't you, Hermione?" she said in between laughs. "But I'll forgive your anger."
"I said ge—"
Claire moved and Hermione's wand went flying towards the furthest wall in the room.
"I did say I'll forgive your anger, not your magic," Claire pointed out, now looking no worse for wear.
Hermione swallowed the first angry retort that came to her lips. "What do you want?"
Claire threw her a smile and stood up, straightening her floral red skirt. "You know, you two are quite alike. Both of you seem to like drawing blood from me."
"What are you talking about?" Hermione took a step back, confused and frustrated. She just didn't feel as if her mind was working at its regular pace.
Claire chuckled, using a finger to pull her top aside, revealing the milky-white skin of her left shoulder and the top of her breast.
"What are you doing?"
"Showing you," said Claire, her voice breathy as she came to stand beside her again. "Look."
Hermione reluctantly let her gaze wander from her dainty neck to her exposed shoulder to her breast, taking in the expanse of her beautiful unmarred skin. Unmarred, except for a tiny, coppery blotch on her breast. She gasped.
Claire leaned closer. "He likes it when I bleed," she whispered, her breath warm on Hermione's temple, "just like you do."
Hermione opened her mouth to protest but felt a finger rest against her lips, shushing her.
"Don't deny it," Claire smiled, readjusting her top, "I can feel it in your magic," she paused, gazing deeply into Hermione's hazel eyes, "In your emotions. In your eyes. You have that anger inside of you, that living and breathing demon that likes causing pain."
Hermione took a deep breath and then immediately winced when she inhaled a lungful of her perfume. "You still haven't answered my question."
Claire smirked. "And what is that?"
"What do you want from me?" Hermione repeated.
"Apart from your body, you mean?"
Hermione rolled her eyes.
"I shouldn't keep you in suspense, I suppose," Claire tucked an errant brown curl behind Hermione's ear, making her huff.
She dropped her hand.
"I just wanted to talk to you," Claire admitted, looking slightly vulnerable for a moment, "see who was with him before me."
Hermione gave her a curt nod, although a part of her did want to get to know her more. "And what's your conclusion?"
"I know you'll be there for him just as I will."
Claire threw an arm around her, and Hermione didn't even bother shrugging her off. "You must've known that even before barging into my room. Something about how not many witches, not even several years older than you would ever enter a dire situation like that as easily as you had done that day." she repeated sarcastically.
"Hmmm, brilliant and sexy," Claire murmured against her cheek, "I can see how you're an irresistible combination."
A multitude of retorts rose in the back of her throat but before she could voice any of them, her back was striking the wall and her lips were captured into a deep, hungry kiss. Not unlike her breathing, Hermione's brain completely stopped in its tracks as a delicious and forceful tongue began to invade her mouth and she shivered, her back arching as a palm travelled to her arse and struck. Hard.
Her eyes were still closed as a voice sounded from above her and she gasped in shock. "Oh, Hermione," the french witch said in her perfect accent, "I just know we're gonna get along so well."
Hermione was still reeling as she willed the fog in her brain to clear when the door opened quietly and Claire stepped out.
~~ .
Rose hummed a light tune as she skipped ahead to the third floor, looking for a specific room. As the holidays were coming to an end this weekend, she'd found that he'd become even busier.
"Harry?" she yelled, knocking on the double doors, knowing how bad these soundproof rooms were in the family wing. For some reason that she still couldn't guess, her parents had redone several enchantments, including the sound proofing after Harry had come to live with them often.
"Come in."
She entered to find her brother sitting at his desk, his quill scratching against a parchment.
"Here you are! We've been looking for you," she said with some exasperation.
Harry didn't look up as he signed his name with a flourish and blew over the ink to dry. "Just finishing up a reply."
"To Claire?" she teased. "But she's practically living here, isn't she?"
Harry threw her a mock glare. "Funny. No, this is a reply to the French Minister for Magic."
"Wow," she whistled. "casual correspondence with the Minister of a different country? You work fast, Harry."
He laughed, folding the parchment and putting it in his pocket.
"Nothing like that, I assure you. He just wanted to be there when I see Claire and Fleur off to Beauxbatons."
Rose grinned as she dropped into the chair across from Harry, watching him stretch his limbs as he got up from his his seat. The afternoon sun streamed through the tall windows of his room, making the golden edges of the furniture glow.
"So," she began, propping her chin on her hand, "have you seen John yet?"
Harry's expression flickered just slightly before he sighed. "No. Mum's worried, isn't she?"
"Very much beside herself," Rose confirmed. "He's barely left his room since the whole… reveal."
They both knew what she meant. The truth about the Boy-Who-Lived—how the title was never John's to begin with—had shaken John in ways none of them could have prepared for. The rest of the family had been shocked but to be truthful, not that surprised.
Sometimes, Rose even felt as if her parents had known or at least suspected from the start that John wasn't the Boy Who Lived.
Harry ran a hand through his hair. "I figured he'd need space. But how long are we supposed to let him sulk before someone shakes some sense into him?"
"I think Mum and Dad are trying to give him time," Rose said, stretching her legs out in front of her. "But it's not just about the truth coming out. It's everything else too—the battle, the newspapers, people talking about 'The Disobedience Day' like it was some grand rebellion. He's been thrown into a completely different reality overnight."
Harry let out a humourless chuckle. "Well, he's not the only one."
Rose reached over and squeezed his hand. "You doing alright?"
He gave her a small smile. "As well as I can be. It's just... a lot. But I'll deal with it."
She gave him a searching look before nodding. "Right, then. Come have tea with us. Mum's already setting the table in the garden."
Harry raised a brow. "She managed to drag Dad out too?"
"Oh, please. Padfoot did that ages ago. Something about a 'tragic lack of whiskey in the tea of his life.'"
Harry snorted. "Alright, let's go before Sirius brings his whiskey to our tea table."
"Mum will finally kill him," Rose added, giggling.
They made their way down the grand staircase and through the corridors that led to the gardens.
Lily was levitating a tray of teacups onto the table while James and Sirius sat, deep in discussion.
Dorea was already there, swinging her legs under her chair as she poured herself tea, and John's absence was keenly felt.
"Finally!" Sirius declared as he saw them. "I was beginning to think Harry had gone and eloped with his French harem."
Lily whacked him on the back of his head while Rose rolled her eyes as she sat down beside Harry who winked at her. "If that ever happens, you'll probably be the last to know, Sirius."
James let out a bark of laughter.
Harry took his seat, nodding at his mother. "Tea looks great."
Lily sighed as she handed him a cup. "It would be better if your brother decided to grace us with his presence."
Silence hung for a moment before James cleared his throat. "Let's give him a bit longer. I remember being a moody git at his age."
"You were a moody git at every age," Sirius quipped.
James pointed his spoon at him. "You encouraged it."
Harry chuckled before Lily turned to him, concern evident in her eyes. "Harry, dear, I hate to bring this up now, but Amelia has sent another request for a meeting. She's barely holding the Ministry together as it is."
Harry exhaled, rubbing his temples. "I know. I'll go see her soon. I was hoping things would settle a bit first, but that seems unlikely."
Sirius leaned back in his chair. "Honestly, you should get it over with. Bones is one of the good ones. If anyone can keep this mess from spiralling out of control, it's her."
"And Bella will be there too, so there's no need to worry about any pressure from the Minister." James added.
"I'm counting on her presence," Lily added, eyeing him. "if at all you decide to go."
"It's not just about meeting her," Harry said, voice measured. "It's about what comes next. The expectations. The public attention. I didn't sign up for this."
James nodded, understanding. "No, you didn't. But like it or not, you're in the thick of it now. Better to face it on your terms than let others dictate what happens."
Harry pressed his lips together. "I'll go tomorrow."
Lily gave him a warm smile, reaching over to pat his hand.
Dorea suddenly sat up straighter. "Can we talk about something less serious? Like the fact that school starts on Monday and—"
"You still haven't begun packing," Lily cut in, looking at her a bit disapprovingly.
Dorea turned to glare at her older sister. "Traitor!"
Rose hid her smile behind her cup. "I never said anything, I—"
"Yeah, as if I don't know h—"
"—never needed to!" Rose finished and ducked as a cushion came flying over her head.
"Dorea, Rose!" Lily scolded, "You'll spill everything!"
"Oh by the way, Harry," James cut in, "Albus wanted to meet you at your earliest convenience."
Rose saw Harry frown. "I'll meet with him after school begins."
"Did he ever get around to saying what kept him so busy that he ignored the mass disobedience on the bloody Disobedience Day?" Sirius asked sarcastically, making Dorea giggle and prompting Lily to chide him again for his language. Sirius ignored it like he always did.
James shrugged. "He may have mentioned something about a South American riot but I wasn't really listening."
"It's really curious how he's almost never not absent whenever a calamity strikes in Britain," Sirius muttered darkly.
"I'm just thankful that we're all okay," Lily added with feeling, "That day could've gone wrong in a thousand different ways and I just can't imag—"
"But it didn't." James cut in, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, making her sigh and lean against him. "A thousand things could've gone wrong and many almost did, but we're alright."
"It was a lesson," Sirius cajoled, "that no matter how many scenarios we plan for, something last minute is bound to put a wrench and throw all of our preparation away."
"No more." Harry put firmly, making them all turn to him. "Dad, are you really taking the Deputy job?"
James nodded. "The swearing in is on Monday," glancing from him to Lily to Sirius. "Why?"
"It puts you in the public eye," Harry observed. "I don't like it."
"You could always work from home," Lily added. "Can't you?"
"I can, for the most part," James answered, "but I'll have to show up here and there. At least a couple of times a week."
"Bloody politics." Sirius muttered.
"We could hire bodyguards," Rose said.
Harry threw her a quick smile. "That's not a bad idea."
"You're going to be working with Bella, right Harry?" Sirius asked, "to put her Aurors up to snuff and whatnot?"
Harry nodded.
"Then that's perfect!" he said. "You can cherry pick people for James' bodyguard duties."
"Alright, I'll have to—" Harry began but James cleared his throat loudly.
"Enough about boring bodyguards!" he said, raising his cup. "Like Dorea said," he threw her a little wink, "let's talk about something more exciting!"
"Like what?" Lily asked suspiciously.
"Pranks for the new school year!" Rose said excitedly.
Harry laughed.