Chapter 3

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Hermione catches open stares in the Atrium, in the lifts, in the halls, but no one is bold enough to speak until she reaches her department corridor.

"Congratulations!" one of the administrative assistants gushes and the surrounding workers all whip their heads in her direction.

She's weathered unwanted attention before, but this level of gleeful scrutiny burns. Half of the people gawping actually believe she's over the moon for her new husband while the other half enjoy seeing her cut down to size, knowing her disdain for this disgusting law.

Her department head intercepts her before she can make it to the safety of her office to wring her hand. "Lovely, just lovely," Geoffrey Lawson says, all wide grin and yellowing teeth. "So wonderful to see you finally settle down."

Hermione can only grit her teeth and keep her wand holstered. Hexing her superior won't help her get legislation passed.

"Surprised you didn't request any time off," Lawson continues with a chuckle. "Merlin knows your husband can afford a lavish honeymoon."

A strangled, unhinged laugh claws out of her throat, but seems to appease her department head as an acceptable response to his ridiculous statement.

Once behind a closed door, she lets her head rest on her desk for exactly three minutes. Then, she gets to work. She studiously ignores any memos in her in-tray containing any mention of her recent marriage. Lighting them on fire later will be her end of the day reward.

A soft knock comes at mid-morning, and Hermione calls a firm, yet slightly nervous, "Come in!"

The door opens to reveal a petite, middle-aged woman.

"Hi, Miss Granger? Or is it Mrs—?"

"Just Hermione is fine. And you must be Miriam."

"Yes, pleasure to finally meet you."

"Likewise, thank you so much for coming in to the Ministry. Tea?"

Miriam declines and Hermione gestures to the seat opposite her desk. This is a meeting Hermione has worked for months to secure and she hopes to avoid any moves that might scare Miriam away.

"And how's your son? Nathaniel, is that right?"

Miriam smiles. "He's well, thank you. No new scars this month."

Hermione tries not to wince. "That's wonderful. His potion supply is still full?"

"We're all stocked up. One of the luckier families."

"Glad to hear it." Hermione shifts in her chair. "Now I don't want to make any lofty promises to you, but—"

"He's so excited," interrupts Miriam. "About going to Hogwarts in a few years. It's all he'll talk about."

"And that's why I've asked for your help." Hermione shrugs her hair back and straightens up. She's never been great at delivering rallying cries or inspiring speeches, but she needs to sway at least this one woman.

"If I can have parent advocates like yourself willing to speak publicly and throw support behind this measure, then I believe it increases our odds of having it actually pass."

Miriam eyes her warily, though not unkindly. "I'll happily do that, but I can't have Nate thrust into any sort of spotlight. He's nine and that's hard enough as it is, but to have his condition known could make Hogwarts hell for him."

"Is that how the other parents feel?"

"Most of them. Many are considering the homeschool route."

Hermione holds up her palms. "I understand that, I do. But the more support I can garner from the affected community, the stronger our case."

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