Written for Challenge 041: The Department of Mysteries, at hh_writersblock, a Live Journal community.

What Had She Gotten Herself Into?

"And what, exactly, would my job entail?"

Hermione looked down at the small brunette witch standing before her and tried to pretend that she wasn't about to jump for joy.

"At the moment you would be replenishing our stock of Time Turners. Nearly our entire supply was rendered unusable by an unfortunate incident some years ago," the witch said, her face as smooth as her voice.

"Ah," said Hermione, rather unintelligently. "I see."

"We could, however, always use someone of your intelligence for any of our projects," she continued flatly.

"This is very flattering," Hermione said demurely, trying to repress a scream. "Indeed, how could I say no?"

"We at the Department of Mysteries wouldn't want to pressure you into anything you don't feel comfortable doing," she replied, voice bland. Hermione was starting to wonder if she had any personality at all.

"No, I'm honored that you singled me out for this position." Hermione shook her head. "I would be very glad to accept."

"Wonderful," said the woman, her tone of voice not straying from its previous disinterest. "We will see you on Monday, at eight in the morning. Someone will be in the Ministry Lobby to direct you through our procedures and give you your pass."

"Thank you so much." Hermione nodded respectfully to the woman, still unnamed, as she walked out of the room.

Hermione didn't move from her spot in the room crowded full of cubicles, frozen to the spot. One, two, three, four, five…

"Hermione, are you all right?" asked Shelly, the witch that worked in the cubicle beside Hermione's.

Six, seven, eight, nine…

"You look a bit pa-."

"YES!" Hermione exploded, throwing her hands up in the air, knocking the papers out of Shelly's hands. They floated around her as she danced on the spot, ignoring the disbelieving stares of her coworkers. "Yes, yes, yes!" she cried.

"Miss Granger!" frowned a shocked Mr. Grimbly. "Get back to your workstation, young lady!"

"Oh, excuse me, Mr. Grimbly," Hermione said respectfully, barely keeping the smile off her face. "But I quit."

"Excuse me?" he said after a moments pause. "Quit?"

"I'm so sorry, sir," she said, her lips twitching. "But I'm going to be working in the Department of Mysteries."

From all around her came the shocked murmurs of various awed coworkers. Only one stood out.

"Oh, that's amazing, Hermione," Shelly cried, dropping her last few papers to give her a hug. They stepped over the clean white sheets, grinding heels into the paper without abandon.

"Thank you," she sniffed, suddenly overwhelmed. "I can't believe it."

"Well, I can!" Shelly cried, holding Hermione at arm length. "They're lucky to have you."

Hermione just sniffed again and wiped at her eyes, keeping silent for fear of her voice cracking. This was it. Her whole career. This was her.

"Hello, Hermione," said a tall blond man, with dark eyes. "My name is Briar. I will be your guide today."

"Hello," Hermione greeted him back. "Thank you very much."

Briar nodded. He turned around and started walking, looking back every few steps to make sure she was following.

"I have been instructed to give you this," he said in a slightly foreign accent; french, if Hermione wasn't mistaken. "It is your pass to enter and exit rooms in our Department." He handed Hermione an intricately patterned disc, slightly smaller than her palm.

Hermione accepted it without comment. It was beautiful. And she was slightly intimidated by Briar.

"It will not open all the rooms, but it should be sufficient for your work here at the present." He looked back at her, as though expecting a complaint. He was obviously slightly mad.

They made their way to the elevators. Somehow, Briar managed to snag a corner for himself, standing aloof, while Hermione was nearly smothered by the crowd.

"Hermione," cried Arthur, peering out from under a particularly large man's arm. "How are you?"

"Hello, Arthur." Hermione smiled at him over a woman's shoulder. "I'm fine, how are you?"

"Oh, fine, fine." He nodded. "I heard you were offered a job in the Department of Mysteries?"

"I'm on my way there now, in fact," Hermione confirmed as the doors binged open.

Arthur tried to reply, but his words were lost in the rush of people and activity.

"Follow me, please," said Briar in his formal tones and Hermione couldn't find him again. Oh well. Arthur would understand.

"It is a long way to work every morning," Briar commented, "but worth it, indeed."

"I would imagine so," said Hermione, hoping she didn't sound too awed.

"There is only two more corridors."

They walked in silence. Hermione was nearly bursting with questions, but couldn't quite bring herself to ask them.

"If you will use your pass? It will give you a chance to get acquainted with the sensation." Briar stepped back and Hermione looked at him, confused.

"You haven't told me what to do with it," she pointed out.

"Simply open the door," he told her, and she felt rather foolish.

"Of course," she murmured, reaching for the handle. As she touched it, a tingling sensation spread through her body, starting with her fingers. She shuddered, but it soon passed, and the door clicked in her hand.

"New security measures?" she guessed and was rewarded with a nod. "Would I be allowed to study the wards?" she asked, the words tumbling out. She had held in too many. "On the side, of course. I am interested in warding of all kinds, and this is extremely powerful…" she trailed off.

Briar, to her surprise, smiled at her. A coldly superior smile that she was entirely unused to – it was so unlike the easy grins of her friends. "I think you will do well here," he said, and she was struck, again, by his accent.

The door swung open, revealing the circular room of black marble that occasionally walked in her dreams. It seemed regal and imposing, cold and dark.

What had she gotten herself into?

Erm ... whatchya think?