The Right Thing To Do (The Rights and Wrongs Series) #1

2

Hermione got all the way back to her desk without breathing. At least it felt that way. The logical part of her brain – her whole brain – knew that she must have been breathing the whole time, but she was gasping by the time she'd reached Level 4.

She sat at her desk for several minutes, waiting for her blood to slow, and it wasn't until then that she'd realized she left her wand downstairs. She closed her eyes and pushed on her temples. How idiotic.

"Granger."

Hermione released her temples to see her coworker, Aiden O'Connor, standing at the corner of her cubicle, eating a banana. What a foul thing to do.

"You had your Wizengamot thing this morning, yeah?" He raised his eyebrows at her. "How'd it go? Is the git getting the Kiss?" He smiled at her.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Actually, Aiden, I volunteered to testify on his behalf."

The banana stopped halfway to his mouth. His jaw went slack for a moment. "Is that right? Apologies. I thought the two of you didn't get on."

Aiden was one year behind her at Hogwarts. He was also in Gryffindor, so she assumed he had seen enough of Malfoy's and her interactions over the years to support that idea.

"We didn't. It just – It was the right thing to do. Not every mistake deserves a life sentence in Azkaban."

Aiden's eyebrows lifted and the corners of his mouth turned downwards. She assumed this meant "Meh! You're right!" but she couldn't be sure because the smell of banana was engulfing her.

"So magnanimous. But I guess that's to be expected of the 'Golden Girl.'" He grinned at her and started to walk away. "Oh, Mathilda wants those notes on the Welsh Green egg this afternoon if you can."

"Of course. Thank you, Aiden." Hermione watched him leave, scowling.

He knew she hated the terms "Golden Girl" and "Golden Trio" and that is why he used them so often. When she interviewed at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures two months ago, she had submitted her resume under a false name. When Mathilda Grimblehawk saw Hermione Granger walk into her office, she flipped her tea over all the papers on her desk and asked Hermione if there was anything she could do for her. Hermione insisted that she be given no partial treatment simply because she was a war heroine, and insisted on starting at an entry level position and working her way up through the Ministry. Even though the Office for House-Elf Relocation was her main goal, she had been assigned into the Beast division of the Department. Hermione was determined to move within departments and up the ladder based on merits and talents alone, not on her fame.

Ron had done the exact opposite, flaunting his status in articles for the Prophet. About a month after the Battle of Hogwarts Rita Skeeter asked him what he'd like to do next, and when he said he wanted to play Quidditch for the best team to have him, the offers poured in for weeks. He'd been gone for almost a year in Ireland, coming by only once a month or so to visit. He never brought home any of the girls he'd been dating, but Hermione had seen them pictured together. Molly Weasley was blind to all this, of course, insisting that Hermione should join Arthur and her for a visit to Ireland. A year ago, when Hermione was headed back to Hogwarts for her "eighth year" and Ron was headed to Ireland, she told him they should take this time apart and keep their options open. She didn't mean that open.

Harry had fallen somewhere in the middle. No stranger to fame and Rita Skeeter's probing articles, he was almost comfortable as the center of the wizarding world. He had gladly accepted a position as an Auror last summer, despite not having taken his N.E.W.T. exams. His only saving grace was Ginny, who didn't much care for the spotlight. Hermione and Ginny had gotten close after sharing dorms for their last year of Hogwarts, as Hermione had been the only Gryffindor "eighth year" girl to come back to school. They'd rented a flat after Molly had promptly forbid Ginny and Harry from moving in together upon Ginny's graduation. Ginny generally spent the evenings and nights at Harry's, but Hermione got to see her often enough.

Hermione looked at the clock. Quarter 'til noon. She needed to retrieve her wand, but she didn't want a chance encounter with any of the Wizengamot as they dismissed for lunch. Or worse than that: a chance encounter with the prisoner as he was moved for the lunch break.

Hermione shivered at the memory of his condescending glare as she left the courtroom. It was right that nothing had changed, she had to remind herself. Why would he look at her any other way?

Ginny had labeled him Hermione's Charity Case, but Hermione knew that Ginny was wiser than that. She was very kind to not push the issue, but from the careful way that Harry treated her this morning, she assumed Ginny had told him something.

"So you have a soft spot for Draco Malfoy," Ginny had told her one day last spring in their dorm rooms at Hogwarts. Ginny had shrugged. "So what?"

"I do not have a soft spot for him," Hermione had blushed.

"Fine," Ginny said. "You have a debilitating infatuation with him."

"Ginny!" Hermione had closed her book and turned to face the ginger. "That's wildly ... inappropriate and inaccurate."

Ginny leveled a stare at her. "Listen up, Granger," Ginny said, a favorite phrase of hers. "Here's what I know. Today's Daily Prophet had two featured articles. One about my brother and his triumph against the Bulgarians, accompanied by a very informative picture of Ron and a blonde at the post-game celebration, and another article about the setting of Draco Malfoy's hearing date. Guess which article you read five times."

Hermione grinned triumphantly. "Ginny, why would I want to read about Ron and his new girlfriend? Or about Ron and Quidditch? Sounds like two topics I want nothing to do with."

"But you do want to know everything about Malfoy's trial and his charges?"

"I – I think... I mean it's more interesting than Quidditch and blonde dim-wits, that's for certain."

Ginny smiled at her as if she still didn't believe her. "Okay. I get it."

She'd dropped the subject that evening, but every time she could, she'd bring up Malfoy. She'd leave Prophet clippings on Hermione's breakfast plate in the mornings. She'd play devil's advocate whenever groups discussed the Malfoy family. She would never join the hushed gossip in the halls, and she always quit her teasing when it looked like Hermione could take no more.

One night last April, with the four-poster curtains drawn closed and the sounds of the other girls falling off to sleep, Hermione heard Ginny's voice whisper over to her.

"How long have you been working on your Charity Case, Hermione?"

Hermione's voice caught in her throat but she still was able to respond, "Since 3rd year."

There was silence. And then she heard Ginny turn over to go to sleep. She had wanted to whisper to her that it was nothing and she needn't be worried about her. She had wanted Ginny to turn over and ask her every question that she didn't have the answer to. But more that this she had wanted Ginny to drop it and never speak of it again.

The sound of Mathilda's heels clacking against the floor brought Hermione back to her cubicle. Mathilda didn't need sensible heels. She could walk very easily in outrageous heels. Hermione had two seconds to act busy before Mathilda walked past her.

"Hermione! Taxing day so far?"

Hermione turned to see Mathilda towering over her, giving her a bright smile.

"Definitely, yes." Hermione smiled.

Mathilda nodded. "Well, don't skip lunch again. Make sure to take your breaks when they're due."

"Thank you, yes. And I will have those notes on the Common Welsh Green egg by three."

"Oh, by the end of the day is fine." She waved the air and smiled, turning to go.

Hermione turned back to her desk. She inked her quill and began to finish her notes on the egg found in Knockturn Alley last week. She reached for her wand to summon the report, and huffed when she remembered she still needed to go downstairs.

She ran into Harry at the Level 4 lifts. Her anxiety spiked. He never came to her floor.

"There you are," he said.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

"Nothing," he said, taken aback. "I thought I was going to meet you for lunch?"

Hermione remembered now. "Oh, yes. I'm sorry, I forgot. I actually need to – to run an errand. Can we go tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow is Saturday."

Hermione closed her eyes and pressed her temples. "Right. Sorry."

"What errand do you need to run?" Harry asked. Hermione hesitated.

"I... I left my wand downstairs." She pursed her lips and looked away.

"Oh," Harry said. "That's rather odd of you." He laughed.

"I know. I'm mortified."

"I'll come with you."

"Oh, Harry, you don't have to spend your entire lunch running around the Ministry with me."

Harry shrugged and called for the lift. "What else am I going to do? Besides, the café is on the way!" He smiled brightly at her. "You can finally try the croissants I've been raving about."

Hermione smiled and followed him into the lift. They chatted about work and Hermione found herself thanking Merlin for Harry. She, of course, had done this many times over the past eight years, but as the lift filled with wizards and witches from other departments who openly stared at Harry Potter sharing a lift with them, he continued to speak only to her, completely oblivious to his effect on the world around him.

Harry led the way down the hall toward the Oak doors she'd come flying through not an hour ago. She was mortified to knock just to speak with the round man who had her wand, but Harry must have sensed this because he did it for her. Hermione sighed.

The man poked his head out. "Oh Miss Granger! I was looking for you!"

"Er, yes I'm sorry I was in a bit of a rush --"

"I have your wand!"

"I-- yes I know. I'm here to retrieve it from you."

"Wonderful!" he squeaked. He stepped through the door and let it close to a crack behind him. Hermione could hear the murmuring of the Wizengamot and a lazy drawl she would recognize for the rest of her life.

He conjured a form for her to sign, allowing him to release her wand to him. Once signed, he produced her wand from his robes pocket. She felt complete again.

He piped in things like "have a nice day" and "be sure to hang onto that!", but Hermione was listening to the clamoring that had started behind him. Voices rising and arguing. One that sounded like the grey-haired man was yelling for peace. The door clicked shut behind the round man and there was silence. Hermione stared at the doors, willing them to crack open.

"You ready?" Harry's voice shocked her. She had forgotten about him.

"Yes, absolutely," she croaked. "Lunch?"

They turned to walk down the long corridor just as the lifts were arriving.

Even from twenty meters away, Hermione could recognize Narcissa Malfoy's long, white form. Her shoes clicked as she exited the lifts in short staccato rhythms. Her robes were pristine and white, draping her figure perfectly. The odd look about her as if she'd smelled something foul had been replaced since the final battle with simple arrogance, less identified than before. She looked the perfect picture of a freed woman.

"Mrs. Malfoy," Harry said as they got closer, extending his hand. "Good afternoon."

"Mr. Potter." Her voice was like honey, but even more surprising was the smile she graced him with, as if they were old friends. Hermione had to remind herself that Harry had spoken at her own trial last summer, assisting to clear her charges. "I heard you testified today. I can't thank you enough."

"Actually," Harry said. He smoothed his hair down. "Hermione really convinced me to elaborate on my previous statements. She testified today too." Harry turned to face her, but Hermione was frozen in place as Narcissa Malfoy turned her blue eyes on her. She blinked, as if seeing her for the first time.

"Miss Granger." Narcissa extended her hand. "I almost didn't recognize you." Hermione couldn't understand why. She hadn't changed a bit. "I thank you deeply for speaking today."

Hermione's arm moved on its own and suddenly she was clasping hands with Narcissa Malfoy.

"Not at all Mrs. Malfoy. It - it was the right thing to do," she said. "He was very brave during the war."

Narcissa's eyes roved over her face and in that moment Hermione knew that she had failed at her attempt at nonchalance. Narcissa Malfoy knew. It was not Legilimency. But she knew. Narcissa released her hand.

"Yes, it was a trying time for the full family." She sighed and looked toward the doors. "Well, they are letting me have lunch with Draco today. I would offer for you to join us, but I'm sure they wouldn't allow that."

Hermione's blood pressure skyrocketed at the thought of having lunch with Harry, Draco, and Narcissa Malfoy. What would the four of them even discuss?

Harry jumped in. "Of course. It was nice to see you Mrs. Malfoy."

"You as well Mr. Potter. And Miss Granger," Narcissa said, turning her eyes on her, searching for something in her face again. "Do keep in touch."

Hermione's tongue was too dry to respond, so she simply smiled and nodded. Keep in touch?

She watched Narcissa glide away. Harry had to tug at her arm to get her to walk with him to the lifts. She felt foggy.

"'He was very brave in the war?'" Harry raised an eyebrow at her. She could see the smile lifting his cheeks.

"Shut up." Hermione blushed and Harry laughed.