This story was written in answer to a prompt and a likes/dislikes list given by Live Journal user msavi during the anonymous sshg_giftfest, which I participated in this past fall (2014). It was an intense boost to my writing to reawaken the muse. I am excited to share it with all of you on FFN now that the giftfest is over.

This story is already complete at 10 chapters, and will post once a week or as I find time to tweak little bits that bothered me.

Do watch for easter eggs. :)

Chapter 1

It all started with a baby doing magic on camera, floating her dropped toy back into her hand. Many believed it to be a hoax—Hermione herself had ghost-written an article debunking it—but the two videos went viral on the Muggle Internet because the baby's delight at her toy returning was so darn cute.

The Ministry might have kept it under control if a witch hadn't decided to hex her pop star lover outside a London club after he'd rejected her. "What does it matter? The secret's already out," the Daily Prophet reported Vanity Burbage shouting as Aurors escorted her through the ministry. The Muggle paparazzi and subsequent media had gone nuts, especially as the pop star and his new starlet girlfriend were medical mysteries. The Prime Minister had allowed both Healers and memory modifiers into the hospital, but the proverbial cat was out of the bag.

British Muggles knew magic existed and that there were witches and wizards living among them.

Belief was a funny thing. Once the idea grew increasingly accepted, magical disguises and deterrents started failing. The Knight Bus could be seen careening through southern England, squeezing between cars and disappearing into the side of brick buildings. Buildings that hadn't been there before appeared as shimmery mirages for minutes at a time.

Needless to say it was hectic at the Ministry.

Hermione stepped out of the floo and then glowed briefly yellow as she passed through the barrier spelled to keep out those whose primary emotion was greed. Several feet down, a muggle coming from the visitor's entrance slammed a fist against the barrier, which held fast, pulsing green at the point of contact.

Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt had pulled Hermione from her position in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures to be one of his advisors in dealing with the re-assimilation of Muggles and wizardkind. While many witches and wizards with strong connections were called in to help for a myriad of reasons, only those Kingsley trusted most were on the Board. The call to arms had created another breaking down of the line between the two worlds. Those Muggles in the know were suddenly free to talk and word spread like wildfire where the Ministry of Magic was located. The previously unremarkable street in London became blocked with people turning to the Ministry for help. Patients with terminal diagnoses, families with lost children, and people seeking justice where the legal system had failed them were those with legitimate sob stories, while still others were merely seeking easy solutions. The barrier had been Hermione's idea, and a few witches and wizards had been caught by it as well.

"It's not infallible, as one merely needs to clear one's mind to pass," Hermione had told the Re-assimilation Advisory Board. "But then a clear mind should be open to reason." Arthur Weasley had helped Hermione cast the charm.

On her way to the lifts, Hermione had to push through several people. The Atrium was almost standing room only. Desks had been set up between the visitor's entrance and the fountain, where lines of Muggles queued to have their issues heard. Hermione was very glad not to be one of those hired to assist and redirect. She couldn't imagine having to choose which complaints had priority over others.

But then, Hermione thought as she brushed a brown hair out of her face, I am essentially doing the same thing on the Board, just without the additional emotional stress of face-to-face contact. That's not exactly fair.

The decision to allow Muggles to be heard had been controversial. Some were afraid to publically speak against it. The war had only ended four years earlier, and no one wanted to be associated with Death Eater philosophy. Still others felt free to complain that Muggles shouldn't be taking Ministry attention away from the wizarding community it governed.

Hermione sighed. Heavy hangs the head…

Beyond the fountain, which was now a simple design until voters could decide what statue to put up, Hermione had to wait to get on one of the lifts. Her ears were full of the buzzing noise from several people talking at once. She recognized many of those standing around her as peers, but only one was on the Board with her. Severus Snape looked over as he felt her gaze and looked away again, disinterested. Hermione had yet to speak with her former professor since the Board had been assembled. Dismissed, she felt free to take a moment to study him.

Snape hadn't bothered to hide the scars on his neck left behind by Nagini's bite. To her recollection, he had never been one to give much to his personal appearance. Hermione found she actually liked that he didn't try to hide the scars. Snape was unabashedly himself: unkempt long black hair, prominent nose, and the attitude that let everyone know he was mostly severe and very intelligent.

When the lift opened again, both Snape and Hermione managed to get on, but did not stand near each other. The on-and-off crowd of people thinned as they reached level one. Hermione left the lift first, and she didn't bother looking behind her as they made their way to the private conference room off of Kingsley's office.

Once inside, Hermione smiled at the robust laugh she heard. The Re-assimilation Advisory Board was an interesting assemblage of people with Muggle ties. Most had been in the Order of the Phoenix. Dedalus Diggle was a balding man with remnants of white hair on the sides of his head. The only wizard in his county, Dedalus's high spirits had more than once led to slight exposure, which meant that he had developed a good idea of what Muggles were willing to accept.

As she chose a seat, Hermione waved in greeting to him and the woman beside him. Arabella Figg was the only wizard-born on the Board. She was the woman Dumbledore had trusted enough to keep watch over Harry as he grew. When Hermione had told Harry about her presence on the Board, he had been quite pleased—but balked when Hermione had turned the conversation to possibly adopting one of her kittens.

Last on the Board was another person Hermione had only heard of, but in this case it was from textbooks only. As she was the youngest, Nobby Leach was the oldest. He had been the first ever Muggle-born Minister of Magic. That Kingsley had convinced him to come out of retirement brought Hermione no little sense of awe.

Considering Snape had also been convinced to emerge from seclusion, Hermione figured Kingsley's talent of persuasion rivaled Dumbledore's. Last to arrive, the Minister cast an additional ward at the walls. He turned to face the other six with a grave face.

"Some of you may have heard already. A witch has been kidnapped by Muggles."

Hermione gasped. "Oh, no."

"How is that possible?" Diggle wanted to know.

"Who?" asked Arthur.

"Astoria Greengrass. They took her wand."

"How do we know this?" Snape asked.

"The Ministry received a ransom note. It included her severed finger."

Arabella shook her head sadly. "What do they think they're doing?"

"I'm not sure any of them are really thinking," Nobby Leach answered her. His voice was surprisingly strong for a man of his age. "Many of the Muggles are in a state of panic, as clearly evidenced upstairs. What are they demanding, Kingsley?"

"The impossible. To be given magic."

"They just don't get it yet." Diggle ran a hand over his bald head.

"It's only been a few of days. We can't expect them to." Hermione spoke gently.

"I thought that pamphlet on their picture boxes would have done more by now."

"I'm sure the informational video has been a help. But there are some who are going to believe the exact opposite of whatever we say because they're suspicious. Even though we've told them people are born with magic, they'll probably believe we're lying in order to keep it to ourselves."

"That's exactly what the ransom note is accusing us of, Hermione." Kingsley nodded at her in approval.

"It's awful." Arabella shook her head. "But it reminds me of that proverb, 'Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day; teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.'"

"I trust the Auror department is seeing to Miss Greengrass's rescue?" Arthur put in.

"Of course. They've already located her in a warehouse in Manchester. What we need to figure out—"

A banging on the door cut Kingsley off. A breathless voice sounded from the other side. "Must see Arthur. Very important."

Arthur was quickly out of the seat he'd occupied beside Hermione. "Savage," he said to the wheezing wizard dressed in Auror robes on the other side of the door. "What is it?"

"Your wife, Arthur. She's been hurt, just in the Atrium. They're taking her to St. Mungo's. You'd better get there, quick."

Arthur was gone before he finished speaking. A part of Hermione wished she could go with Arthur, but she wasn't family and her duty was here. Ron, or likely Harry, would keep her informed.

Kingsley took command. "Savage, collect your breath and tell us what happened."

Savage leaned against the jamb with a nod. After half a minute, he spoke. "It was an accident. One of the Muggles got overemotional in the queue. Too many people. It created a crush. Several Muggles were injured, too."

Dedalus was rubbing his head again. "This is all still out of hand."

"It was like a stampeding herd with nowhere to go." Savage seemed a little dumbstruck. "Mindless, agitated cattle."

"Watch it!" Arabella was clearly offended. Hermione felt the same way.

"Sorry. I don't mean anything by it."

"Clearly your ability to think before you speak has not improved since you were teenager, Savage." Snape spoke for the first time since the Auror's arrival.

Savage's cheeks went white.

"Thank you for fetching Arthur, son." Nobby rose to pat Savage on the shoulder, and the wizard got his color back. "You'd best be getting back to the Atrium. Make sure they have all the help they need."

"Yes, sir."

After Savage left, Kingsley got everyone's attention again. "There is another matter to discuss. A proposal has been put forth to the Wizengamot regarding a better regulation of Muggles and their concerns."

"Regulation?" Hermione repeated. "As in control over?"

"Of a sort, yes." Kingsley touched his wand to a parchment he had brought in with him, and copies of it appeared in front of Arabella, Nobby, Hermione, Snape, and Diggle. "Interesting points are made, actually, about giving them some of the help they request. Transportation, for one. The way Muggles are using up the planet's natural resources affects all of us living on it, whether magical or not. Providing magical means of travel would reduce the environmental impact."

"That's rather forward thinking," Arabella commented. "If dismissive of the impact on the economy if all those Muggles involved in transportation lost jobs and the Middle Eastern countries lost a chief export. Who authored this?"

"Chief signatures are Lucius Malfoy, Miranda Selwyn, and Victoria Irving."

"Who is Victoria Irving?" Dedalus asked.

"A Muggle MP."

"Lucius Malfoy put forth a proposal with his name alongside a Muggle's?" Nobby stared at the parchment in front of him in disbelief. "Merlin's beard."

Snape set down his copy of parchment. "This is simply subjugation seeking a foothold."

"Disguised as wisdom and helpfulness," Hermione added. "I couldn't agree more."

"Admittedly, I'm not very excited about this proposal," Kingsley said. "However it is carefully thought out, and has some ideas worth exploring, if not necessarily in the way it's presented here."

"There's a paragraph here about making Muggle versions of wizarding products," Arabella pointed out, looking at the last paragraphs.

"Muggles already have their own versions of wizarding products," Hermione responded, still scanning through the proposal. "They don't need ours."

"A school for medicine, exploring both Muggle and wizarding healing practices," Diggle said.

"Really? Where's that mentioned?" Hermione rolled the parchment out more. Diggle reached over and pointed to the text.

"And a new branch created for the Ministry, specializing in lost children. It might be for the greater good of us all to help Muggles the way this proposal outlines."

Hermione wasn't the only one to give a start at Arabella's words. The wizard-born woman looked back at them, confused. "What did I say?"

"Just a surprising turn of phrase, Arabella," Kingsley smoothed over. "Think no more on it."

"Arabella's got a point though," Diggle said. "She may have mentioned economy kickback for the Muggles, but I think the transportation bit is a great idea. It's always made me uncomfortable, the way they take apart the earth and fight each other over what they find inside."

"So you're saying we should give them Portkeys so we can end their wars? We have no business descending upon them and telling them how to govern themselves."

"Calm down, girl. There's merit in the idea of allowing Muggles magical transport; that cannot be denied. And look at this paragraph here. There's also a point that if we set ourselves up to provide services, it becomes as though we are servants instead of equal allies. We do need to regulate how we allow the Muggles to make use of what we can offer."

Dedalus was speaking kindly, but the diminutive made Hermione bristle. She may be young, and have only gone through one war, but her thoughts still had merit. She wouldn't have been asked to be there otherwise.

"I think that's simply playing on fear. Why should being in high demand make us subservient?"

"When you describe yourself as a product in demand, Miss Granger, you are already one step toward becoming just that. I prefer not to think of us as a supply to be demanded." Snape's gaze was dark as he folded his arms.

"Neither do I! I thought you agreed that this proposal is rubbish."

"Devil's advocate, Miss Granger. And do sit down; you are not under attack by anyone in here."

Hermione sat down. "My apologies. Kingsley, we haven't really had enough time to look this over. Could we perhaps take a day or so to come up with our arguments and ideas?"

Kingsley nodded. "I'm willing to grant that. But time is running short, as the circumstances downstairs make increasingly evident. You have until tomorrow to come up with conclusions and alternatives that we can, in turn, present to the Wizengamot."

==S==S==H==G==

The Ministry Archives were located one level further down than the courthouses. Since the lift only went to level eight, they required a lot of walking to access. There had been something about the wording used in the Muggle Regulation Proposal that rang a bell. Hermione was determined to figure out what it was; it may help her get the board to see the folly in the proposal. The corridor Hermione hurried down was mostly shadowed. Candle sconces were distantly spaced, yellow moments of low-lit passage. They glowed brighter as she passed, and dimmer as she moved away again.

Why are the Ministry corridors so long? Hermione wondered. What purpose does it serve, really? Other than to make the click of my heels resound. Hermione slowed and frowned. The sconces ahead seemed to have gone out. When they didn't relight as she approached, Hermione pulled out her wand. "Lumos."

Nothing.

"Lumos Maxima." When that didn't work either, Hermione tried Bluebell Flames. They disappeared the moment they left her wand tip. Hermione's grip on her wand tightened.

Peruvian Darkness Powder, she thought. Her heartbeat quickened, and she shifted her weight to the balls of her feet. She silently left her previous position and listened. If whoever had cast the powder was still there she didn't want them to be able to find her so easily. It was also possible that the person or people were already gone. Hermione moved forward cautiously.

After a moment, Hermione was certain she could hear breathing. Still not putting her weight on her heels, she moved closer to it. The breathing was slow with a slight rasp. As soon as she was certain she was across from a mystery person pressed against the wall, Hermione thought Incarcerous firmly and directed her wand.

The breather gave an increased gasp, but no other noise.

"Who are you?" Hermione demanded.

"Mi… Granger?" the rasp asked. It sounded as though coming from the middle of the wall.

"Very good. Now who are you?"

"Help… Granger. I'm… hurt."

For half a second Hermione almost went toward the voice, but she held her ground instead. Still, there was something familiar about it.

"Help." The voice repeated. "I'm… Nobby."

"Minister Leach?"

Concerned now, Hermione moved in, feeling with her spare hand.

"Yes… not much time. Time!"

Hermione's hand touched thin hair under rope, and she realized he was sitting propped against the wall. Undoing her spell, she crouched, using his arm as her guide. It bent at the elbow, forearm pressed against his stomach.

"How are you hurt?" Hermione asked him.

"Entrail… curse."

"Oh no!" Hermione didn't have any idea how to counteract the Entrail-Expelling Curse. Keeping one hand on his shoulder, Hermione cast a Patronus back toward the Auror Headquarters. There were a few with Healer training, in addition to other skills she was afraid they were about to need. "Who did this…?" Hermione asked, but trailed off, startled when her otter, though visible as it sped off, cast no light.

Apparently she hadn't been the only one expecting a Patronus to overcome the magic of the powder. Footsteps fell quickly in the opposite direction.

"Stop!" she called after them, rising to give chase, but a wet hand grabbed her leg.

"Take…my wand." Nobby's voice was growing fainter. "My … droom ar…ar. Fix… it… all."

The finality of his words made Hermione panic, and she crouched by him again. "Help should be here any second. Just hold on!"

"Take. It. Stop. Them." Nobby's breathing sounded wrong.

"Take what, sir? Sir!"

Hermione hoped fervently that Nobby had just lost unconsciousness, and that she was not alone in the dark with a dead former Minister of Magic. Or possibly alone with his killer. Remembering the footsteps, Hermione considered her options. She could try to pursue them, maybe block their escape. There were only so many ways back up to the Atrium. But then, the perpetrator could go into any number of offices instead.

Why hurt Nobby?

She should stay where she was and wait for the Aurors to arrive. Chasing down the footsteps now would be an exercise in futility, and leaving Nobby alone was something she was reluctant to do.

Easing the ache in her back from crouching, Hermione stood slowly. A hand covered her mouth and she was jerked backward by the waist, coming flush into contact with someone behind her.

"Careful," a familiar voice whispered in her ear. Hermione relaxed—mostly—at its recognition. "It's too late to hide your presence. If you go after them you might be walking into an ambush."

Hermione nodded her head, hoping the gesture would make Snape release her mouth. He did. Turning her head, Hermione hissed against his collarbone. "I realized that, thank you."

"Of course you did," Snape responded in a tone that didn't let her know whether he was mocking her or accepting her words.

They remained still, saying nothing. She should have stepped away from him, but his presence was an unexpected comfort. Snape, for that matter, still had hold of her waist. In the pitch blackness, Hermione tried to clear her mind. It warred with itself, wanting to emotionally react to the non-reality of what was happening and wanting to remain alert because it was not over yet. This surreal moment in time of Peruvian Darkness Powder, Nobby's wounds, a nearby-or-long-gone perpetrator, and Snape's sudden appearance. She focused on the feel of human warmth against her back instead of the imagined passing warmth at her feet.

When Snape removed his hand from her waist, she could detect the slight outline of it. Realizing the powder had likely worn off, she moved to relight the sconces, but Snape was already doing it.

Nobby had not lost consciousness. His eyes were open and unseeing. Despite herself, Hermione let out a cry and turned away from the evidence of what killed him.

"Hermione!" The call came from up the corridor.

"I'm here, Harry!" she answered.

He, Ron, and another Auror she didn't know were soon seen running down the hall towards them.

"Hermione, what happened?" Ron asked, as the third Auror immediately began to check and tend to Nobby.

"I was heading toward the archives and I suddenly realized I was trapped in Peruvian Darkness Powder. Minister Leach let me know he was there and hurt. When I cast the Patronus someone took off further down the corridor."

"They got away?" Harry asked.

"Nobby grabbed me, tried to tell me something, but it didn't make much sense. I stayed with him."

"And what are you doing here, Snape?" Ron switched his attention, brows narrowed.

"Master Snape."

"What?"

"I've relinquished several of my titles, Ronald Weasley, but I am still a Master of Potions, and you will address me accordingly. As it happens, I, too, was heading toward the archives when I saw Miss Granger's otter streak pass. I arrived in time to hear Minister Leach's last words."

"And what did he say?" Harry wanted to know, having just come back from examining further down the corridor. "Anything helpful?"

"Barely distinguishable."

"He told me to take his wand, and to stop them," Hermione interrupted and felt Snape stiffen beside her. "That's all that was clear."

"So there's more than one of them?"

"I couldn't tell. I think I only heard one person's footfalls, though."

By now the third Auror had readied Nobby's body to be moved. It was covered in a conjured sheet, and floating under Mobilicorpus. "Excuse me," he said to the lot of them and Harry and Ron stepped aside to let him pass.

"Both of you were going to the archives at the same time?" Ron continued. "And came across another member of your R.A.B.? What's been happening in those meetings?"

"You should know that we cannot tell you."

"Don't be obstinate, Snape. We're investigating the murder of one of the members."

"Master Snape."

Ron's ears were turning red. "Like I'm likely—"

"Ron, don't!" Hermione admonished.

Harry interrupted as well. "It's alright, Ron. I can speak to Kingsley about it. We can trust him to let us know what he feels is necessary."

"Right." Ron took a deep breath, and directed his apology to Snape. "I'm sorry, sir."

"I would suggest exercising better control over your emotions if you wish to be successful in your current career choice." Snape answered.

"He apologized!" Hermione was indignant and glared at Snape.

"It's alright, Hermione. I'm glad you're not hurt."

"Thank you, Ron. How's Mrs. Weasley?"

"She's fine. They're keeping her overnight, but she'll be fine."

"Oh, I'm so glad!"

"We all are," Harry agreed. "Is there anything else you can tell us about tonight?" Hermione shook her head. She wanted to, but Harry was right. Kingsley would tell them what they needed to know. "Right, then. Good luck in the archives. I'll be in touch."

He gave Hermione a hug, and he and Ron both left the way they came. Hermione frowned. There was something odd about Harry's robe pocket. He'd found something, she realized, and hadn't said anything. Well, I feel less guilty about keeping my obligatory silence.

She sighed. We all have jobs to do.

"You could have been nicer to Ron, you know."

"He was treating me as though I am involved."

"You are involved, if only because you stood by my side until they arrived." And we've all learned that things aren't always as they seem with you, Hermione thought. "Thank you for that, by the way."

"I was hardly going to put myself in danger by continuing on."

"Indeed." Hermione agreed in a tone much similar to the one he had used on her earlier. "Well, Master Snape, shall we continue to the archives?"

"Is that where you intend to go right now?"

"Well, yes, I did come down here for a reason other than being witness to the murder of a colleague." And with those words, the reality finally hit her and the adrenaline left her. With a whooshing intake of breath, Hermione held back the sobs that wanted to burst out.

"Come on," Snape grabbed her by her elbow, and led her down to the nearest door. Upon opening it, the bracketed torches inside lit, and Snape guided her to the nearest chair and desk.

Hermione sat down gratefully. Her legs and back were aching a bit. After a few deep breaths she used her wand to transfigure one of the desk's quills to a glass. "Aguamenti," she said softly.

Snape was watching her. "Got yourself together now, have you?"

"Yes. It helped to sit. Oh!" Her gaze shot up at him as realization dawned. Sit… relax the body… "droom." "He said bedroom! He was telling me there's something in his bedroom! That's why he gave me his wand… so that the wards in his home could be dismantled. I'd better get there immediately." She stood up.

"In such a rush after nearly breaking down, Miss Granger?"

"Well, of course! And I didn't break down."

"No, nearly bursting into tears and requiring a rest and a glass of water certainly couldn't be called nearly breaking down."

"Just because I needed a moment to be human… he was our colleague, and a man I admired by reputation before I'd even worked with him. How can you be so unfeeling?"

"As I said earlier to your former paramour, emotional control is an asset. I have known many colleagues to die, Miss Granger."

"Of course." What am I doing, berating Severus Snape? "I'm sorry for calling you unfeeling, Master Snape."

Snape studied her for a moment, as if he was trying to figure out how to respond. Hermione tensed. She hoped another insult was coming.

"I accept your apology, Miss Granger."

Somehow, Hermione wasn't sure whether she hadn't just been insulted.

"Tell me, did you come down here to double check some references in the Muggle Regulation proposal?"

"Yes, that's exactly why I came down here. You, too?"

"Of course. I think, Miss Granger that we are looking for a referendum in the late 1960s. Our friend Minister Leach might possibly have recognized the same passage. After all, he was in office then."

Hermione looked around. "Then we are in the wrong room. This is the 12th century archive."

Snape swung his arm out toward the door, his robe gracefully billowing underneath it. "By all means, let's be in the twentieth century."

Hermione snorted, she couldn't help it. They had all, chronologically at least, just left the twentieth century two years earlier. Snape gave her a quizzical glance, but said nothing, and followed her down the hall, passing 7 more doors.

When they walked into the archive, Hermione mused aloud, "Now Nobby was in office from 1962 to 1968."

"This section over here," Snape gestured.

"Right!" Hermione bustled over and began running her hands over parchment labels, searching the referendum titles in 1967 and 1968. After several minutes she spoke again. "How did you recall so precisely that it was the end of his terms, sir?"

Hermione pulled down a referendum titled, Proposal for Aiding Muggles in Their Imminent Energy Crisis. "Oh, I think this is it! Sir? Master Snape?"

For the second time that night, Hermione was met with only silence. He was gone, had clearly left right after directing her to the correct aisle. In fact, he had not only directed her to something, but also away from something. Hermione felt inside her robe pocket, right near where Snape's hand had rested while she'd taken comfort from him in the dark.

Nobby's wand was gone. Snape had pickpocketed her.

(Three)