Work Text:
“Minister Granger, I think you should see this!”
Hermione lifted her head from the correspondence she was currently reviewing, and next to her, the former Minister of Magic also turned to look just in time for a paper to land haphazardly on the large desk.
“Please be more careful, Elinda,” she scolded the secretary. Elinda was a delightful witch and very capable in her secretarial duties; Hermione had agreed to let her hold her position, since she had proven to be an excellent employee during Minister Shacklebolt’s tenure.
But Elinda had the unfortunate habit of treating everything like a great crisis, even if there was nothing to be alarmed about.
“I’m sorry, Minister, but this is urgent,” Elinda insisted. Hermione shook her head.
“I have to finish reviewing the correspondence to our ambassador in Norway,” she said, with the certainty of a person who knew what was most important. “Confirming the magical transportation route is more important than–”
Shacklebolt’s voice cut through Hermione’s prioritisation.
“Hermione…That’s you. On the Daily Prophet. First page.”
She dropped her parchment. Lo and behold, today’s issue of The Daily Prophet sported a large, rather unfavourable photograph of Hermione from her last outing. In the photograph, she was leaning close to Severus Snape, of all people, chuckling at something.
Above that photograph, in a huge title in all capitals, was written,
EXCLUSIVE: SCANDAL AT THE MINISTRY? NEW MINISTER HERMIONE GRANGER SEEN IN AN INTIMATE DATE WITH FORMER DEATH EATER, HEADMASTER SEVERUS SNAPE. LOVE GETAWAY OR POLITICAL UNREST?
(Full expose by Rita Skeeter on pages 4-7)
It took Hermione several moments to register what she was seeing.
“Did you…And Snape…you know?” Kingsley broke the silence first, in a tone that suggested he was more amused than concerned about the headlines.
“What do I know, Kingsley?” Hermione turned on him, and he lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I went to the Pint of Goblin for a drink after we finished that horrid meeting with the Aurors last week. Headmaster Snape happened to be there, as well. Would I ignore Hogwarts’s headmaster? We just had a bit of a conversation.”
“You seem too jolly for a conversation that includes Severus,” Kingsley pointed out. Elinda let out a muffled squeak.
“Well, he was telling me about the new curriculum in Potions, and what the new professor asked him to amend,” she offered, glaring at Kingsley until he stopped teasing. “Can you believe he actually asked to exclude brewing Felix Felicis from the N.E.W.T. curriculum? Hilarious, isn’t it?”
Kingsley’s face showed that he had no opinion about this topic.
Hermione then looked down at the spread again. Her photograph –laughing, clearly relaxed– mocked her from the front page.
“I really should have kept her in that jar,” she mumbled.
“What was that?” Kingsley asked, and Hermione shook her head.
“Nothing you really need to know, sir,” she said.
Kingsley sighed; whenever Hermione used that line, it was always something he did indeed need to know.
“We need to call Snape here,” he eventually offered. “Rita Skeeter is a nightmare we can’t afford to ignore, especially with you taking over officially next month at the Ministry Inauguration Ball.”
Hermione agreed reluctantly, her mind vaguely calculating whether she could make Rita Skeeter disappear again.
***
“I don’t see the reason you called me here, Minister and Minister, were Severus’s first words when he walked through the Floo in the Minister’s office, glaring first at Kingsley and then at Hermione in rapid succession. “I have a school to run, and social niceties at the Ministry just eat away at my precious time.”
Hermione glared at him in return for walking into her office with that face.
He didn’t seem to care. “Well? Make it quick, Miss Granger.”
“Severus, I’m certain you have already seen today’s Daily Prophet,” Kingsley began, uncertain on how exactly to discuss this expose.
“I have not.” The Headmaster shook his head. “I am not a subscriber to the Daily Prophet since Minerva resigned from the school and they wrote this libel on her. I only subscribe to The Quibbler.”
Hermione gaped.
Severus shrugged.
“Miss Lovegood has decent penmanship, if you treat her articles as fiction.”
Kingsley, without preamble, shoved the Daily Prophet into Severus’s hands, and Hermione watched Britain’s most terrifying person lose what little colour he had on his face.
“That’s an ambush,” he declared, in the kind of voice Hermione didn’t wish to be on the receiving end of. “We just happened to meet there! I was talking to you about the Felix Felicis ban–”
Hermione, despite herself, chuckled as if he had indeed delivered the most absurd information known to humankind.
Kingsley just shook his head in disbelief.
“This is a scandal waiting to erupt right when Hermione is about to be officially lauded as the new Minister,” Kingsley said. “You know it better than me, Severus, that wizards are hypocrites, babbling about propriety when in fact they have none.”
Severus huffed, and Kingsley took this as his cue to continue. “Hermione has always been the most brilliant choice for a Minister, but also the most controversial one. We cannot have her carry that scandal from the first day in office.”
“This is not my circus,” Severus drawled. “I had one, one evening out of school to decompress, and suddenly it has turned into a major issue. And no matter how much I would like to hex some sense into Skeeter, manslaughter is highly reprehensible, I’m afraid.”
Kingsley closed his eyes for a moment, as if the conversation were making his head ache. “Can you just listen for a moment, Severus?” he snapped. “You need to cooperate here. The Ministry Ball is in five weeks, and it is Hermione’s first function as the new Minister. You will be there.”
“Unfortunately, I will,” Severus agreed, quieter now.
Hermione looked at Kingsley, already opening her mouth to argue. Kingsley lifted his hand to silence her.
“You will also attend as Hermione’s beau,” Kingsley deadpanned. “Whoever accompanies the Minister in such a function is considered a serious partner; a Minister could never bring in a casual fling.”
Severus choked on air.
“Out of all the things you’ve ever asked me to do, Shacklebolt–”
“He is right,” Hermione muttered. Both men stared at her.
“Kingsley is right,” she clarified. “Having Skeeter breathing down my neck on a perceived scandal right around my inauguration will be more trouble than it needs to be. And since manslaughter is indeed frowned upon,” she said, looking at Severus, “we probably need to one-up her.”
“And one-upping her means that I have to pretend to court you? In the Ministry Ball, no less?” Severus asked, clearly exasperated at this point.
“She won’t have a scandal to talk about if we rub the scandal in her face. Think about it!”
When he didn’t answer, Hermione took a step closer.
“One night. We will make Skeeter eat her words. I will be sworn in without a hitch, and I will make sure a certain professor stops annoying you about Felix Felicis.”
Hermione grinned at Severus.
Severus scowled at Hermione.
“Is this the fair government you promised, Minister?” he drawled. Elinda, sitting in the corner all but forgotten at this point, stifled a chuckle. “But well, if it is to make Skeeter mad, I will have to endure this charade.”
“You will have to dance, too,” Hermione added.
Severus narrowed his eyes in a way that suggested he was considering what life in Azkaban would be for him.
“Now wait a minute, Granger!”
“The Minister opens the ball with a dance,” she replied immediately, waving her hand until Elinda brought her a huge, colour-tabbed notebook. She leafed through it until she found a page and showed it to Severus. “See, it is in my notes: during any Ministry-arranged function, the dance is commenced by the Minister and their spouse or official date.”
“I will not dance for your goons, Granger,” Severus declared stubbornly. Kingsley sighed.
“It’s just an evening, Headmaster,” she said. Then she paused, hummed softly, and gave Severus a little, lopsided smile.
“Don’t tell me that the Hogwarts Headmaster does not know how to do basic ballroom dancing,” she said smugly. “I would have never guessed that the man who knows everything cannot perform a simple waltz.”
“Not knowing how to dance and not wanting to dance are two different things, you insolent girl.”
“I’m your Minister, Snape–”
“You are a nuisance like your best friend.”
“Then help me here before Skeeter finds something worse to say about us, and I’ll make sure no one annoys you about the school’s funding or curriculum for the rest of the year.”
Seething, the man didn’t respond. He looked at Hermione, then at Kingsley, who merely shrugged, then back at Hermione, who crossed her arms.
“Fine,” he eventually agreed. “But only because I despise Skeeter.”
“We have that in common,” Hermione agreed, trying not to sound too enthusiastic. “So, do you know how to dance?”
“Stop insulting me, Granger.”
“Then I’ll see you in five weeks.”
Severus huffed in response. He turned his back on them and walked back to the Floo without another word.
“Merlin help us,” Kingsley muttered, already thinking of ways to soften the disaster that would no doubt unfold at the Ball.
***
“Minister! How lovely to see you,” Rita Skeeter said with the confidence of a person already planning her next big scoop. Her quill wasn’t hovering nearby, but Hermione knew that this didn’t matter at all. “I see you’ve gone above and beyond with the preparations. Everything looks lovely.”
Hermione, for a moment, did not respond.
Her hands at her sides twitched, and she took a moment to smooth down her dress –a red, long-sleeved gown Madam Malkins had tailored for the occasion months ago.
“You are most kind, Miss Skeeter,” Hermione eventually said in a diplomatic tone designed to leave people slightly unsettled. Kingsley, after all, had taught her well.
Rita Skeeter did not seem alarmed.
“Not everyone has arrived yet, I see,” she continued, taking a glance around the room. The Ministry had a ballroom in the Atrium level, which was charmed to appear during important events. It was lavishly decorated, and several important witches and wizards had already arrived, creating little groups around the vast space. “Headmaster Snape isn’t here yet.”
Hermione expected Skeeter to make a jab, and yet, she found herself looking around as well. Severus had not yet arrived.
Vaguely, she wondered what she’d say to cover for him if he stubbornly decided to stay at Hogwarts instead.
“He is a busy man, you know how difficult running Hogwarts is, Miss Skeeter,” Hermione reminded the journalist, who seemed thrilled at the comment. “He will arrive soon.”
Then, abruptly, Hermione smiled at Rita.
Rita stopped smiling.
“In the meantime, why don’t you enjoy the feast?” Hermione suggested, her tone taking the sugary tone that suggested she was one step away from doing something that would have Kingsley fuming. “Have a glass of elven wine, perhaps. Oh, and should you need some fresh air, there is a door to the balcony there.”
The journalist lifted an eyebrow. Hermione shrugged.
“I’d hate it if you felt claustrophobic in our venue,” Hermione added sweetly, and smiled as Skeeter mumbled something and left.
“I see you decided to terrorise our favourite journalist before the evening even began,” came a familiar voice behind her, and Hermione turned to find Severus, looking almost smug and very well put-together in his black dress robes.
For a short while, the new Minister blinked, taken aback by his air of elegance. She shook herself out of it fairly quickly.
“Ah, Headmaster,” she said, sounding amused, “I was almost afraid I would have to come get you from Hogwarts.”
“And miss the opportunity to see you humiliate Skeeter? That is almost worth the waltz we will be dancing.”
“Yes, that is a noble common cause and everything,” Kingsley's voice interrupted, as the former Minister approached, holding a piece of parchment. “But I would like you two to concentrate on something more tangible.”
Both turned to look at Kingsley, who merely smirked.
“You two will remain close to each other at all times tonight,” Kingsley clarified. “People from the press office of the Ministry are already mingling with the guests, and you will follow suit. You will socialise as you would–” he paused, looking at Severus’s horrified expression, before adding, “–as much as possible at least, and when the time comes to commence the dancing part, you two will step forward. Optics are very important here, remember that.”
“So is seeing Skeeter upset,” Severus added.
Hermione tilted her head and grinned at him.
He almost smiled back.
***
“You two seem close,” a Ministry official said, but Hermione was tuning out at the moment.
In her peripheral vision, she saw a flash of green fabric swishing nearby. Rita Skeeter hovered close, pretending to be interested in a conversation with a wizard from the Magical International Cooperation department.
What made her shift her attention was Severus’s hand brushing against hers, his knuckles brushing against hers.
She looked up at him; he blinked once.
She heard Skeeter’s high-pitched laughter close behind her, and she understood. Discreet as it was, that gesture would not go unnoticed by the devious journalist.
“Ah, you know, the Headmaster and I maintain a close relationship,” Hermione said. She knew that these words weren’t enough to suggest a romantic entanglement, but knowing that Skeeter was listening was more than enough.
The Ministry press employees would do the rest.
With Severus by her side, she moved forward to greet more of the people present, who were forming small groups around the vast space. She held a glass of elven wine, listened to people toast to her successful tenure, and moved forward gracefully, always checking whether Skeeter was listening and whether Kingsley or Elinda looked approving.
They did.
When the first notes of the waltz song Hermione had picked up for the occasion began echoing in the hall, she knew what was coming.
Next to her, Severus –who had seemed slightly relaxed until now– stiffened.
Hermione didn’t think twice before letting her pinky finger hook loosely around his index.
“It’s time,” she said quietly.
He took a sharp breath; then his finger tugged lightly at hers before pulling away altogether.
It was a little gesture, but it made her smile in earnest.
“It is showtime, I suppose,” he said quietly, before offering his hand.
“For Rita,” she said, and let Severus bring her to the middle of the dance floor amidst people’s quiet chatter.
“Hand on my back,” Hermione reminded Severus, who rolled his eyes but otherwise made no further comment, since everyone’s attention was on them. “Eyes on me, Severus.”
“I know how to dance, Minister,” he said quietly. His right hand landed exactly where it should; his left hand took hold of hers.
During the first few steps, Hermione realised she had forgotten how many steps she was supposed to do. But Severus was a surprisingly elegant dancer. He led her steps carefully, giving her enough space to follow without a hitch. If it weren’t for all those sets of eyes watching, she might actually enjoy this.
“Trust me, Granger,” he said quietly, as if sharing a secret. “We are doing fine.”
“Is she watching?” she asked. She could see several people watching attentively in their direction, some with a smile, others with a curious expression.
“She is,” he confirmed. Hermione instinctively tried to turn towards the crowd, but Severus’s hand holding her more firmly stopped her. “She looks furious.”
“As she should be,” she replies. Unexpectedly, he laughs; a low sound that makes Hermione stare at him as if seeing him for the first time.
He noticed. His lips curled into a little smirk.
“I have the capacity to laugh, Minister,” he drawled, as he deftly helped her into a well-paced circle, enough that Hermione could see Skeeter. She smiled like everyone else watching, but her smile was too tight, and she was gripping her quill a bit too hard.
Hermione deemed the sight very pleasing, but not enough to hold her attention.
“You also have an excellent capacity to dance, Headmaster,” she complimented him.
“The only good thing that came out of me associating with the Malfoys,” he said, and she chuckled at the self-deprecating comment.
She saw his gaze falling to her mouth, so briefly she could have missed it.
But she didn’t.
Then he slowed down, as the music came to its end. Hermione barely gave any notice to the applause. She swore she also heard someone whistle; she would have to ask Elinda about it later.
But for now, her attention was focused on Severus. His hand was still on her back, and, surprisingly, she was loath to let go.
When she inevitably pulled away, she noticed the way Kingsley looked as if Christmas had come early. Elinda, next to him, was sniffling.
On the other side of the ballroom, Skeeter’s smile was very tight.
“Happy now?” Severus asked quietly. “Kingsley seems to be, at least.”
She thought about it for a moment; then, she leaned in.
Her lips pressed against his cheek, and he froze.
As did the rest of the venue.
But when she leaned away again, she smiled at him, and reluctantly, he returned the smile.
“Now we’re perfect,” she muttered, before turning to address the crowd.
As Severus led her away from the dance floor, Hermione could have sworn she saw Skeeter storm out of the room.
She didn’t care, though.