In These Silent Days

Chapter 3

"We don't want to be a charity case or a tragic example."

"No, you'll be a champion for those who cannot safely come forward. As you said before, your family is one of the luckier ones. Let's capitalize on that so that every child can attend Hogwarts if they wish to do so. These children deserve access to Wolfsbane without worrying about costs to their families or how they can get the same education as their non-werewolf peers."

Miriam regards her for a long, silent moment. "What do you need from me?"

Hermione hands her a slip of parchment. "Take this draft to the other parents. This is what I'll be asking for from the Wizengamot. If they have any other accommodations they think the children will need at school, I'd like to know now. We may not secure every demand—obviously the free potion access is the priority—but I need to better understand their needs."

With a grim nod, Miriam stows it in her handbag. "I understand you personally knew Remus Lupin?"

"Yes. He was a dear friend."

"He's Nate's hero. You have no idea how difficult it is to reframe some of these families' mindsets about what a werewolf is, who the person is..." she trails off and clears her throat. "They're just children."

"Which is why I'm going to do everything in my power to get this passed," Hermione asserts, trying to thread a fine line between determined and realistic.

Miriam promises to keep Hermione updated on any progress made with others in the newer werewolf community and takes her leave. Alone again, Hermione slumps down in her chair, a relaxing breath whooshing out of her as she undoes her stiff posture.

It'll be worth it, she tells herself. All the hours she's devoted to this department, all the incompetence from current leadership, all the pleading letters to families of those bitten and turned during Voldemort's reign will be worth it if she can help these children.

Buoyed by the step forward with Miriam, Hermione settles into other work with new zeal. Her good mood lasts all of forty minutes before the next memo destroys it.

The flying memo wiggles under her door and comes to a floating halt. Her latest appeal to the Office of Matrimonial Affairs has been denied on the grounds that Hermione did not sign it with her correct legal name.

When she sends off the next one, the ink reading "Hermione Granger-Malfoy" is so heavy it bleeds through the parchment.

Her birthday has the misfortune of falling on a Monday. Which is fine, of course, it just means she has to wait until the weekend to celebrate with any of her friends. The weeknights are too busy for everyone with full-time careers, spouses, and in Harry and Ginny's case, a small child.

Hermione doesn't rank as highly in their lives as she once did. Which is fine, people age and priorities shift, it's the natural way of things, she reasons. Besides, they all sent gifts and cards that morning. She enters the kitchen to find an impressive display on the table complete with a giant floral arrangement.

Hermione smiles fondly at the envelopes as she recognizes Harry's chicken scratch handwriting juxtaposed next to her mother's impeccable penmanship.

Distantly she hears the shower stop and Draco moving about the bedroom. Their bedroom.

It's been a few weeks of...well, a routine, she supposes. Hermione always wakes first, showers, and sets out the kettle. He'll join her after a lengthy shower of his own and sit right beside her as they eat their respective breakfasts and read the paper. Any conversation between them is brief and polite. Then Hermione leaves first for work and goes about her day. She returns first as well, with Draco unfailingly arriving not two minutes after her. Hermione prepares dinner and he never complains about the meal as they silently partake. They then adjourn to their own studies before retiring to bed for the night and exchanging a simple, "Goodnight."