Submission for QLFC Round Two

Chaser #1 for the Chudley Cannons

Prompt: Write about a character(s) who has so many interests they want to pursue that they attempt to or successfully clone themselves.

Optional prompts: 4. (profession) Astrologer, 7. (species) merperson, 8. (creature) sea goat

Word Count: 2268

Hermione stared at the two little words stamped on the form with burning eyes.

She crumpled up the paper viciously, tossed it in her trash can, vindictively cast an Incendio, and leaned back in her office chair to watch everything be incinerated.

"Is this a bad time?"

Hermione jumped. A man with a distinctive blond head of hair and very well-fitted robes stood in her doorway, smirking.

"Malfoy," she said, her anger pushed aside for the moment.

"Bad news?" he asked, indicating the ashes in the trash can.

"As usual," she said heavily. "What do you have for me?"

He tossed a thick packet of papers on her desk. "My client's suing."

"Astrologer Glenstorm?" Hermione asked, picking up the packet and flipping through the top pages, a grin slowly forming on her face. "Oh, excellent!"

"You are aware that that is an unusual response?" Malfoy said dryly, although his eyes were sparkling with amusement.

"Shut up," Hermione said, waving her hand at him. "You know I was hoping for this. It's why I definitely was not the person who mentioned you to him specifically."

Malfoy snorted. "Well then, I expect a particularly bad defense from you in two weeks."

"Two weeks!" Hermione cried, startled.

"Yes," Malfoy said slowly, lifting one perfect eyebrow. "I thought the sooner this went before the Wizengamot, the better."

"Oh," she said faintly, "no, yes, yes, you're right. It is better. But in that case, get out of my office, Malfoy. I have work to do."

He left with a smirk, calling back, "Don't work too hard on it, Granger! I wouldn't put it past you to win on accident!"

Hermione laughed, but as soon as he was out of sight, she slumped against her desk, head falling down on her arms.

When she'd been appointed Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures straight out of her eighth year, she'd been optimistic and enthusiastic about revolutionizing the department. What she found was one lonely office, one secretary, and a literal mountain of backed up paperwork.

The Department, as it turned out, had only had intermittent Heads for some years, and relied mostly on the Wizengamot to hear cases and see the law through. As a result, there had been many magical beasts and beings whose complaints had never been addressed, either because their cases were not taken by the Wizengamot, or the beast or being in question (or those representing them) were too afraid to take the case forward.

Hermione had, at first, attempted to change Department policies in the usual way, by writing up new policies for a Wizengamot vote, but unfortunately, although they had defeated Voldemort, pureblood ideologies and other prejudices still ran strong in the Ministry's biggest governing body. She'd made very little headway in that direction, and so she'd resorted to more… Slytherin tactics.

It was probably setting a bad track record for her time as Department Head, getting all these lawsuits, but Hermione couldn't see any better way to enact change.

If the solicitor she happened to suggest most frequently was Malfoy… well, it was only because he was the most competent.

She'd found herself a little surprised by his willingness to take on the cases in the first place, but she'd seen the change in him herself. He'd mellowed a lot after the war, and during eighth year (which Harry and Ron had declined to repeat, opting instead for an Auror fast-track program) they had studied together almost exclusively, since they were in all the same courses.

At first it had been purely academic, but as the year wore on Malfoy opened up a little, and they'd become friends. This development had been baffling to Harry and Ron, especially since Hermione and Malfoy's friendship had also frequently involved rousing arguments that got them kicked out of the library on an almost-weekly basis.

Needless to say, their friendship in school had easily transferred over to their professional careers as well. Hermione had initially tried to spread around the cases evenly to different solicitors, but just as Malfoy had teased her about earlier, she had unintentionally won some of those cases. Malfoy was always prepared, if not over-prepared, for his trials, and she'd never won a case against him.

Not that she wanted to; that was the whole point.

The only problem Hermione had found with her approach to running her department was that she was so drowned in lawsuits that she was struggling to get regular departmental work done. She had a meeting with the head merperson in the Black Lake that she was behind on preparing for, and a routine evaluation of a sea goat sanctuary that should have been last week, but she'd had to postpone it to attend a trial concerning werewolf rights.

Hermione had requested a larger budget for her department, so that she could hire an assistant, or at least an intern, but the Wizengamot's annual budget vote was a month away, and she honestly wasn't very optimistic about getting it.

So, in the meantime, she'd applied for a time turner.

Hermione had thought, because of her previous approval and (to their knowledge) completely incident-free usage, the request would be approved.

It was not.

Hence, the ashes in her trash can.

She groaned again. There must be an alternative, some other way she could get all her work done. Even if she had someone else in her department, though, she'd have to train them, and it could take weeks before they were able to get as much done in a day as she did. That was why she'd wanted the time turner, so that she could essentially double herself – wait.

Hermione sat up straight in her chair. Double herself. That was it!

She checked her watch. Three forty-five.

"Marge!" She called to her secretary, "I'm heading out early!"

"Good for you, dear!" Marge called back, tottering around the corner to peer into her office.

Fading green flames in the fireplace greeted her. Hermione had already left. The aging secretary didn't appear fazed at all.

"Works herself to death, that girl," she said to herself, shaking her head.

Technically, it wasn't considered Dark magic, but she suspected that was only because the spell was experimental and had only been attempted in controlled conditions.

Luckily, Hermione already had the book she needed. The spell, potion, and various other preparations took her the rest of the evening, and she crashed in her bed around midnight, ready to give it a try early in the morning.

It worked beautifully.

It was even more strange than seeing the back of her own head in third year, probably because she didn't have to worry about being seen by herself, and she could stare as much as she liked. The clone, or, more accurately, the simulacrum, looked and behaved exactly like she did. It contained an imprint of her mind, so it would do everything exactly like she would, and then at the end of the day, she could extract the memories of its day before dissolving the simulacrum.

Retrieving the memories from the simulacrum was a bit odd – it was rather like extracting a memory for a Pensieve, except the Pensieve was her own mind. For two weeks, Hermione sent the simulacrum to take care of paperwork in the office, while she handled all her overdue field work.

It was quite refreshing to get out of the office, and Hermione found herself actually enjoying the sea goat sanctuary inspection for once. They were more friendly than usual, meaning they only ate three of her quills, although the gruff caretaker assured her that it was a rarity. Even the meeting with the head merperson went smoothly, since she had so much time to get ready for it.

Despite Malfoy's joking, she did prepare for the trial, although her preparation involved writing herself a script with the most transparent defense she could possibly manage. It was much harder than writing a good defense, actually, but if she wanted any policy change within the ministry, the centaur astrologer had to win his case.

"Have you any further remarks, Ms. Granger?" The Chief Warlock inquired hopefully. Hermione schooled her face into something vaguely close to regret as she informed him that there were no further remarks from the defense.

The Chief Warlock looked disgruntled, but he held the vote anyway. Hermione lost.

Malfoy shot her a quick smile as he shook hands with his client, and Glenstorm turned and gave her a solemn nod of thanks.

Hermione didn't bother keeping the smile off her face any longer than it took her to exit courtroom three. Malfoy jogged to catch her just up the hallway, not a hair out of place, or even out of breath.

"That was truly abysmal work in there, Granger," he said, one eyebrow raised superiorly.

"I'm so glad you can recognize inferior work when you see it," Hermione said, just as snootily, and mock-glared at him. A moment's pause, and then they both broke into laughter.

"But really, Granger," he said seriously, after they'd caught their breath again. "You're doing a lot of good here."

"Thank you, Malfoy," Hermione told him, quietly. The unexpected praise was really good to hear. She didn't hear it a lot, and sometimes, up against what she was facing, she wondered if it was worth it, and if she really was making a difference.

"Well, ah, actually," Malfoy said, awkwardly, and Hermione looked at him curiously. Malfoy rarely looked so flustered. "I was wondering if you would like to go to dinner with me?" The last was said a bit quickly.

"Of course. Did you want to talk about Roonwit's trial next week? I think it'll – "

"No, I, uh, meant as a date."

"Oh," said Hermione, and saw his expression fall just the tiniest bit. "I mean, yes."

He smiled. (It looked good on him.) "Six-thirty give you enough time?"

She rolled her eyes. "Who do you think I am?"

"Brightest witch of our age," he responded smoothly, and winked as he turned to walk away. "See you tonight."

Hermione was still smiling when she stepped inside her office and was struck over the head from behind.

"Whaaat," Hermione groaned as she opened her eyes. Her head hurt. Bushy hair and a familiar face frowned over her. She tried to move, but she couldn't. Some sort of spell was holding her down, but Hermione could tell that they were in her room, at her house.

"I haven't decided what to do with you yet," the simulacrum said, twirling Hermione's wand.

"I'm sorry?" Hermione asked, confused. This wasn't how it was supposed to behave.

"Well, there can't be two of us running around, can there?" The simulacrum pointed out.

"Are you trying to take over my life?"

"No," the simulacrum cackled. Hermione hadn't known she could do that. It was very strange to hear. "Your life is awful. I want to do something fun, instead."

"Oh. Alright then," Hermione said, feeling relieved. The simulacrum looked surprised.

"That's it? You're not… going to stop me?"

"You've obviously attained some level of sentience," Hermione said practically. "It would be very hypocritical of me to deny you your autonomy, especially as I'm the Head of the Department for the Care and Protection of Magical Beasts and Beings."

The simulacrum frowned. "I'm fairly certain it's not called that."

"I'm working on it," Hermione said mulishly. "Would you mind letting me up?"

"Oh, no, not at all," the simulacrum said, lifting Hermione's wand.

Just then, the bedroom door swung open. Malfoy stood there, looking a bit frantic, wand up and at the ready. He paused in bewilderment at the sight of two Hermiones. He opened his mouth, clearly about to ask what was going on, when the simulacrum abruptly melted into a gooey puddle. Hermione's wand landed in the middle of the mess, and she winced. She had been afraid that that would happen. The simulacra were never meant to last more than a day.

"Did you… make a simulacrum of yourself? I thought that was illegal," Malfoy looked at her in astonishment.

"It's not exactly illegal, just ill-advised," Hermione informed him, getting up from the bed. "Why are you – oh no, is it six-thirty? You didn't have a reservation, did you? I'm not anywhere near ready!"

"It's nearly seven, actually, but I'm a Malfoy," he said dismissively, "and don't try to distract me. What in Salazar's name did you need a simulacrum for?"

"Well, my request for a time turner was denied," she explained as she picked through her closet for something to wear. Malfoy didn't seem to be wearing anything terribly formal, which she was pleased by.

"And what did you need a time turner for, exactly?"

"Do you know how many people other than myself are in my department, Malfoy? One. And she's my secretary."

Malfoy frowned, "If you're overworked, I'll buy you an assistant."

"You can't buy people, Draco," Hermione said, and the use of his first name made him look up and smirk.

"Of course, I can," he insisted, although Hermione was sure he was just trying to push her buttons.

"No, you can't," Hermione said firmly. "But I do appreciate the thought."

"Fine, I'll bully the Wizengamot into paying for one, how's that?"

"I suppose that's better," Hermione said, finally spotting the dress she'd been looking for. "Now get out of my room. I have a date to get ready for."

He obliged, with a self-satisfied smirk.

The date went well.

(And the Wizengamot approved her new budget unanimously.)

House Points if you know where I got the centaur's name without googling :)