In These Silent Days

Chapter 1

The unfamiliar eagle owl arrives about an hour before the Ministry owl. She's expecting a barn owl, not this first strange messenger.

Tearing open the envelope, Hermione finds a concise, if overly formal, apology letter from Draco Malfoy. She blinks down at the neat handwriting, confused and distracted.

Had this message arrived any other morning it would have consumed her entire day. As it happens, Hermione can only spare surface level intrigue. It's a letter from a man she hasn't seen in years—one she's had no cause to interact with for any reason. She hasn't the faintest clue about his life or whereabouts and cannot say that before this very moment she cared to know at all.

Yet he apparently felt compelled to detail all the ways he's wronged her in the past (as if she didn't already know) and express remorse for such despicable behavior.

On today of all days.

The timing makes more sense when the second letter arrives.

The Ministry owl also involves Malfoy, though in an entirely different manner. It carries the news of her Ministry-mandated marriage match: one Draco Malfoy.

Hermione sees the signs long before everyone else.

A new Ministerial candidate (pureblood, of course) beating the unification drum. Speeches and op-eds about "rebuilding wizarding society" and "restoring values important to a strong, magical race."

Not in the He-Who-Must-Still-Not-Be-Named way, no. That particular wizard sought to exclude groups of magical folk. What their world needed now was a way to bring everyone—purebloods, half-bloods, Muggleborns—together as one, harmonious entity.

With the Kingsley Shacklebolt era of reconstruction coming to an end, Minister Ellard Lance's regime spouted promises of building upon this foundation. Now that the healing had occurred, they could take stock of improvements to be made, gaps to fill.

Take for instance, the dwindling wizarding population. What could be done? After heavy casualties in a war, Muggleborns choosing career paths and lives in the Muggle world at an alarming rate, and none of the remaining young people seeming in a rush to start families, the Ministry is quite at a loss.

Hermione, for her part, has plenty of suggestions. Why not institute a pre-Hogwarts learning program for children? How about a cultural initiative to introduce Muggleborn children to the wizarding world at an earlier age? Muggle parent outreach program? Tax incentives for new parents of any blood status? Squib career advancement program?

Ah, but Hermione works in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. She possesses neither the "expertise" nor the "qualifications" to propose any such measures.

Staying in her designated lane, Hermione next tries creature-specific proposed legislation. Making the magical world a more equitable place for all would make it stronger in the long-run, she implores. How about anti-discriminatory laws for werewolves seeking employment? House-elf freedom? Giving goblins the right to carry wands?

That first suggestion barely passes after an insulting amount of appeals, the second one is dismissed by her wide-eyed superiors, and the third one gets her laughed out of a department-wide meeting.

Hermione senses this new Lance-led Ministry has something overreaching and sinister up their robe sleeves. Some ridiculous culminating act after months and months of repetitive rhetoric.

Harry shares her fears at least, but being Head Auror keeps him far too busy to plan legislative solutions. Ron hears her out too, but he's swamped as co-owner of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and enjoying newlywed life with Luna. Ginny lends a sympathetic ear in between bouts of exhaustion as a new mother.