The Inspectorate for Elfish Labour Conditions

Chapter 1: Hermione

Music: Another Story, Nicholas Hooper (Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix)

"Are you sure we don't have to come with you?" Ron asked for the umpteenth time, worriedly eyeing his girlfriend. He sat tilting in his chair, sipping his tea as he reached for another piece of toast. "Harry can easily make this an Auror-required mission, you know."

Hermione sighed and put her cutlery aside with a determined gesture. "Yes Ron, I'm absolutely sure. Nothing's going to happen to me and besides, I'm not alone. I have my inspectors with me, and they are trained by your actual Aurors to deal with problematic situations. Besides," she said with a frown, "do I have to remind you that you don't even work in the Auror office anymore?"

For weeks, Ron had been trying to talk her into this and he simply refused to let it go. He didn't understand, though. Not really. This was why she had declined to be escorted by Harry's department over and over.

Her remark received a faint mumble in agreement from the bespectacled young man next to her, and she shot him grateful smile. He didn't notice, though, since he was currently hiding behind The Daily Prophet. Probably from Ron's annihilating look. It was clear as daylight that Ron had expected more support from his friend on this. But Harry actually seemed to agree with Hermione, though he was careful enough not to let himself be drawn into their discussion.

"Still, I don't like it," Ron grumbled as he sat back in his creaking chair and folded his arms before his chest in a displeased manner. But Hermione only shook her head at this and brought her dishes to the sink. Mrs. Weasley's bewitched dishwashing brushes immediately set to work.

She gave Ron a quick peck on the cheek. "That's your problem. Get your cloak, Harry. We have to get going."

In a matter of seconds, the two of them arrived at the Ministry of Magic, emerging from one of the enormous Atrium fireplaces. It was six weeks until Christmas, and during the night the Ministry house-elves had adorned the stern reception area with dozens of festive Christmas trees. Hermione waved her goodbyes to Harry and began to wind her way through the masses of civil servants heading for the lifts. It took her several minutes before she reached the lift that would take her to the fourth level, and she suppressed a relieved sigh as the doors closed.

After completing her education at Hogwarts almost seven years ago, Hermione had enrolled in the Ministry of Magic's Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, thus finding a way of, as Ron always put it so encouragingly, getting paid for her loony obsession with house-elves. If it were up to Hermione, the wizarding practice of keeping house-elves as veritable slaves in the household would have been abolished yesterday, but having learned from her experiences in school, she also knew that things often took time to change, even if they shouldn't, and so she decided to start sowing some of the seeds in her position in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Within a year, she had managed to cause quite a lot of disturbance in the once-sleepy office by initiating several projects aiming to improve the lives of house-elves and raise awareness about their position.

The latest development in her efforts was something she'd been working on for two years - the founding of a labour inspection which was something she had copied from the Muggle world. The inspectorate was to supervise and uphold the sharpened regulations on the treatment of house-elves - regulations which had been drafted by Hermione herself.

Once the Minister had indulgently approved of her little project, she had started to select and train the inspectors, making sure that they would also receive a thorough training in defensive charms by both Aurors and Hit Wizards. Though Ron seemed to take a different view, Hermione was actually well aware of the dangerous situations the inspectors might come across while performing their duties. After all, most house-elves worked for the wealthy, old, Pureblood wizarding families whose ties with the Dark Side during the war had been a given. That's why she had decided to accompany them in the first place.

It wasn't that Hermione did not appreciate Ron's worries about her safety, but it stung that he seemed to think she needed protection after all they'd been through. At least Harry trusted her ability to deal with problems, if and when they might occur. She had tried to explain to Ron that the presence of Aurors during the inspections would only damage public support for the new inspectorate. But if he chose not to accept that, she wasn't going to fight him over it.

Murky daylight coming in from the enchanted window welcomed Hermione when she stepped into her small office and, with a flick of her wand, she put on the lights while several scrolls appeared on her clean desk. Within moments, she was emerged in her work, and Ron and his objections were forgotten.

It seemed that only minutes had passed when the sound of knocking on the opened door made Hermione look up from a proposition she'd been writing. Standing in the doorway was a bespectacled man with unwieldy dark hair whose line of work normally didn't bring him to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

Hermione smiled and put down her quill. "Harry. What can I do for you?"

Her smile faltered when she noticed the contemplating look in his green eyes as he stepped into her office and awkwardly sat down in the uncomfortable chair opposite her simple desk. Apparently, he didn't know where to begin.

"You know I'm fully supportive of what you do, don't you?" he finally asked without so much of an introduction. He didn't seem to expect a response.

Hermione indeed didn't respond as she drew in a shallow breath, bracing herself for the confrontation she'd already expected to come. Seeing the look on his face, she knew that he was serious about this.

Harry adjusted his characteristic National Health glasses and gave her penetrating stare. "Like you, I grew up in the Muggle world, and I think I understand better than Ron what you're trying to achieve with the house-elves."

Hermione nodded in agreement. Every primary school pupil in the Muggle world had learned about anti-discrimination and equal rights.

"But," he added, "I also think Ron's right to worry about you."

Hermione pressed her lips together in a stubborn way Harry was well familiar with. She wasn't going to change her mind on this. "I know what I'm asking of myself, Harry, but I'm set on going. The inspectors need my guidance on this," she replied a bit sternly, hoping this would end the discussion.

But Harry wasn't so easily put off. He leaned in. "Listen, Hermione," he said in a low voice, ignoring her words. "Are you sure you want to do this? What you're asking of yourself?" His bespectacled green eyes gave her a hard look, and Hermione realised that he saw through her. Between Harry and Ron, Harry had always been the more observant one. Ron had merely been worried about 'those filthy Death Eaters families' she had to encounter and to be honest, she had been secretly glad that was all he seemed to fuss about. Harry, however, knew. And he wasn't prepared to let her go without serious reconsideration.

She swallowed past the lump in her throat and lowered her gaze. "I've been back to Hogwarts, Harry, and that was for a whole year. I think I can manage this one too," she replied with a slight tremble in her voice as she finally touched upon much deeper motives underlying her resolve to go. Her gaze met his in a silent plea for understanding.

For a long moment, in which silence descended upon the small office, Harry held her gaze, gauging her until he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Hermione let go of a breath she didn't know she had been holding as Harry untangled himself from the office chair and went to stand by the enchanted office window, hands in his pockets as he looked outside with a dark expression on his face. "Then do you know what you're asking of them, of him, Hermione?" he argued gravely. "Their situation is already precarious as it is, and your plans might well bring more damage to them than it will do to you. You know they can't refuse Hermione Granger even if they wanted to. Are you prepared to bear responsibility for that too?"

Hermione stilled. Not for one moment had it occurred to her - the risks her plans might hold for him and his family. All she had been thinking about was the inspectorate and herself, when she should have taken this into account as well. Harry was especially protective of the family he owed his life to - and he was right to be.

Suddenly, Hermione's resolve, which had been solid as a rock, slipped away like sand through her fingers. Ashamed, she bowed her head and her voice sounded a bit choked when she promised, "I...I will keep that mind."

For a moment, Harry was silent. Then he gave a heartfelt sigh and turned around. And as Hermione looked up at him pleadingly, she registered sadness as well as understanding in his eyes, and she knew he'd given in. "Let me do this, Harry. Please. I need this."

On the day of the first round of inspections, Hermione got up before everyone else, discovering that the landscape around The Burrow glistened with freshly fallen snow under the disappearing moon. The first snow of the season.

Quietly, she got dressed in warm woollen robes and put on a scarf with the emblem of the Ministry embroidered on it. Ignorantia juris neminem excusat, read the bronze motto surrounding the letter M resting on her chest. Ignorance of the law excuses no one. A motto appropriate for the task ahead, Hermione thought fleetingly as she plodded through the freshly fallen snow toward the Apparition shed.

She had already Apparated to her first destination before a hesitant light at the eastern sky announced the new winter's day.

Hermione was well pleased. All morning, she had accompanied the trainee inspectors and all had gone well. Even though old, pureblood wizarding families like the Notts and the Puceys naturally hadn't welcomed the inspectors with open arms, they hadn't thwarted them in any way either. The fear of Hermione Granger still ran deep within those families who had supported Voldemort in the past.

The state of the once-great houses had filled Hermione with slight melancholy. So many family members had been sent off to Azkaban and the estates and manors had become quiet and run-down. The empty places on the walls told a silent story of the forced sale of family heirlooms in order to work up the severe reparation payments, while the goblins at Gringotts had often frozen the bank accounts of the few who were left behind.

It felt like a relief to be able to leave behind the downcast Pucey Estate and Apparate to Diagon Alley for lunch.

But as the young inspectors chatted away cheerfully, Hermione only fumbled with her sandwich. A growing tension had nestled inside her stomach, and as she tried not to look at the clock every five seconds, she wondered if it was true what she'd told Harry the other day. Was she really ready for this? Months of preparation had brought her to this moment, and she had defended her resolve before Harry for dear life. But now that it had come, her courage rapidly seemed to seep away with every second on the clock ticking away.

Trying to distract herself, she focused on the conversation between the two youthful inspectors and found out that they were discussing the dilapidated states of the estates they'd come across this morning. Sharper than she'd intended, Hermione reminded them of their position of confidence, and the rest of the lunch was finished in silence.

"What house is next on the list, Miss Granger?" one of the inspectors finally asked as stood outside, and Hermione, feeling a bit guilty towards the crestfallen inspectors, did her best to give them an apologetic smile. She didn't have to check her list to know what was next. But she looked nonetheless.

Date: November 10, 2005. Time: 14:00h. Inspection location: Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire. Number of house-elves in possession: 4. Visiting inspectors: 2005001 and 2005002. Supervising inspector: Hermione Granger. Family contact: Draco Malfoy.

Betraying nothing of the feelings raging inside of her, she responded evenly, "Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire."

Following the end of the Second Wizarding War, Headmistress McGonagall had invited all of the previous year's seventh-year students to return to Hogwarts and complete their education. Only a handful accepted. Their numbers had not nearly been able to fill the gaping hole the war had left in the student body. One of the eighth-years to accept was Hermione.

While Ron and Harry had already been accepted into the rigorous Auror training programme, naturally there had been no need for them to go back to Hogwarts. Hermione, however, had no desire to go chasing dark wizards for the rest of her career and, much to the amusement of Ron and Harry, she'd also professed to feeling dissatisfied with not having completed her education at Hogwarts. Ginny had eagerly welcomed her decision, though. The prospect of going back alone had offered little attraction to the last Weasley to return to Hogwarts this year.

Hermione had thoroughly enjoyed the train ride and and had watched the Sorting Ceremony with deep-felt gratitude, looking on with a tender smile as the first years one by one bashfully sat down at their house-table and gingerly looked at her. This was what they'd defeated Voldemort for - life was resuming its course in freedom.

The Headmistress had proceeded with asking for a moment of silence for those who had fallen during the War and had announced that some of last year's seventh years would be returning as eighth years this year. A surprised whispering went through the Great Hall.

With a single gesture, Professor McGonagall silenced the students. "When I call your names, would all of you eight years stand up for a moment?" she asked in her characteristic shaky voice, her friendly tone softening her stern Scottish accent. "From Gryffindor House: Hermione Granger."

To this day, Hermione remembered the thunderous applause she received from the other students when she rose from her bench. She smiled awkwardly as she noticed that even the teachers applauded. Headmistress McGonagall sent her a warm smile before she went on announcing the other eight years to return to Hogwarts this year. It appeared that she had been the only Gryffindor to return, and there were none from Hufflepuff. However, Hermione was joined by as many as four Ravenclaws and they exchanged knowing smiles, simply grateful to see each other again.

In the meantime, the Headmistress called the last name on her list. "And from Slytherin House: Draco Malfoy."

The warm applause for the Ravenclaws suddenly died away, and a shock went through the assembled students as all gazes, including Hermione's, were drawn to the Slytherin Table. On the other side of the Great Hall, a blond young man slowly stood and straightened to his full height. Draco Malfoy.

If he noticed the tumult in response to his presence, he didn't show it. Standing tall in his black school robes, he kept his gaze fixed on a random point behind the Head Table, his sharp features a stony mask. He was just standing there, waiting resignedly for McGonagall's permission to sit down again.

Hermione was just as shocked as the other students to see him rise to his feet at the Slytherin Table. Of all the former seventh years, she'd never expected him to accept McGonagall's invitation. But here he was. Draco Malfoy, her former nemesis with whom she, Harry, and Ron shared so much history. His gaze fleetingly crossed hers, but he showed no sign of recognition. When the Headmistress nodded at the eighth-years to sit down, he did so stiffly.

During the Start-of-Term Feast, Hermione's gaze sometimes wandered off to the Slytherin Table, but Malfoy kept his eyes down for the remainder of the evening, ignoring the many furtive looks in his direction. He refrained from interacting with fellow Slytherins as well. The moment dinner ended, he'd already disappeared before Hermione and Ginny had untangled themselves from their bench.

As classes began, Hermione noticed that, devoid of his perpetual bodyguards Crabbe and Goyle and without Parkinson hanging off his arm, Malfoy looked lost and almost lonely. Everybody knew of his family's betrayal of the Dark Lord and how they had had a narrow escape from both imprisonment in Azkaban and suffering the most severe of financial sanctions imposed on other families. Which was probably why his fellow Slytherins gave him a wide berth, as his family - who had once belonged to Voldemort's inner circle - had bred a lot of bad blood within their circles. His commanding presence kept them from coming at him, though, so they settled for simply ignoring him instead while the rest of the school avoided him like the Death Eater they still held him for.

It seemed to leave him cold, though, Hermione noticed while stealing a glance at him once in a while. Something had changed about him that she couldn't quite put a finger on, but which started to fascinate her enormously, much to her own chagrin. Perhaps it was his presentable appearance, the Slytherin tie perfectly tied, in contrast to its former pubescent sloppiness. Perhaps it was the way he kept to himself like never before, his scowls and disdain replaced by a stony indifference to his surroundings. He had stopped picking fights with her, lowering his gaze whenever they met in the school corridors.

Hermione also noticed that he was sitting alone for most of the time during class, the school desk being almost too small for his long limbs as he took notes like it was the only thing left for him to do.

It probably was.

A/N: This Dramione fic takes place seven years after the ending of DH. Naturally, it's not epilogue compliant. The italic parts are flashbacks.

I would like to thank my lovely beta Crimson Eyed Sakura for her work on this story.

I hope you'll enjoy this story and please, feel free to review!