11 October 1999
Hermione shifted her handbag on her shoulder as she stood at the desk of the administrative assistant in the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures department at the Ministry of Magic. Zairyannah Bennington, as per the nameplate on the counter, was flipping through her boss, Amos Diggory's calendar.
"Unfortunately, Miss Granger, Mister Diggory will be in Switzerland until-" she flipped another page in the dayminder, "Thursday."
Hermione released a pent up breath. "Will he be returning to the office Friday?"
"Likely," Ms. Bennington said. "I can pencil in a tentative meeting with him, if you like."
Hermione took a moment, looking over her own schedule. "I have some time free at about three that day, if he is available?"
"He seems to be." Ms. Bennington picked up a quill with a gilt edged tag and looked up at her. "And may I ask what the nature of the meeting is, just so Mr. Diggory may prepare ahead?"
Hermione reached into her handbag and pulled out a piece of sealed parchment. She examined it before handing it to the administrative assistant. "I have a referral from Rolf and Newt Scamander regarding some research I am doing."
"Very well," Ms. Bennington made a note in the calendar, the self-inking quill leaving a faint trail of precise printing.
Hermione glanced curiously at the notation, fascinated by the ink. "Pardon me, but is that the new erasable ink?"
"It's similar. This ink does become permanent if unaltered within a week."
Hermione made a note to look into the new ink type the next time she bought stationery supplies. Thanking Zairyannah Bennington for her time, she left the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.
As she walked along the corridors to the lift, she sighed finally allowing the disappointment she felt to have some release. She had hoped that she could meet with Mr. Diggory sooner. However, it was impossible for her to take any sort of leave of absence from work--she hadn't even been with Flourish and Blotts for six full months yet! And she couldn't expect Mr. Diggory to forget his obligations as both the head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and the chair of the International Organising Committee for the International Magizooilogical Society's Annual Symposium and Conference.
After leaving the Ministry, Hermione checked her watch. Half two. It was too early to drop in on any of her friends, and she had finished her shift at work over an hour ago. Hermione considered her options as she walked along Diagon Alley.
On one hand, she mused, it was terribly difficult to be patient, having so many burning questions about how this fae business affected her Being Status. And of course, since she had been unable to find anything written on the fae that was not a fairytale or folk legend, she hoped that Mr. Diggory would have at least a few recommendations for resources she could access to learn about this new facet of herself.
On the other hand, she still remembered how Diggory had treated Winky, the Crouch family's house-elf. She had no way to know if the man's rough treatment of the little elf was the result of the stress of the Death Eater attack and the shock of seeing the Dark Mark for the first time in thirteen years. For all she knew, he could share the disdain she'd noticed among so many wizards for creatures many considered servants.
Then again, she had seen first-hand how devastated Mr. Diggory was when Harry brought Cedric's body back from the graveyard during the Tri-Wizard Cup. The wizard had been inconsolable.
Her thoughts then turned to Cedric Diggory. He was never far from her thoughts during the war. He and so many others who lost their lives to fighting Voldemort and his Death Eaters, were her motivation during battle. The list of the fallen became her mantra during her nights on watch duty when she, Harry, and Ron were on the run. It reminded her, in a way, of saying the bedtime prayer her grandparents taught her when she was small.
She shivered, abandoning her gloomy train of thought. Looking around, she spied a small café, The Terrace Tearoom. A few minutes later, Hermione was seated at a small table and waiting for her tea to arrive.
Ignoring the airy murals of terraced gardens and the miniature garden beds among the seating arrangements, she reached in her handbag and pulled out a journal and self-inking quill. She opened the slim volume to the most recent page before flipping back a few pages. Her server came and went, leaving a pot of cinnamon vanilla black tea, while Hermione was flipping pages and checking dates.
Blast, she thought. The dreams began before my birthday.
Flipping to the last handwritten page, Hermione uncapped her quill and collected her thoughts.
"Hermione, hi!"
Startled, the brunette witch looked up to see Ginny and Luna walking toward her table. She quickly capped her quill and placed it and her journal back in her handbag. When she looked up from her task, the others had already reached her side and were pulling chairs out to sit down. She waited a moment for them to settle in before asking, "What are you two doing here?"
"Well, we just called round Flourish and Blotts to see if you were still working when we saw you walking into the Terrace Tearoom," Luna explained.
"No practice today, Gin?"
The redhead shook her head. "The first practice after a match is usually an hour of drills and a couple hours reviewing plays and fouls from the game. We finished up before lunch."
Hermione shifted her gaze. "And you, Luna? Helping with The Quibbler usually keeps you pretty busy."
"We just finished typesetting the new edition on Friday. They'll be going in the post later this week," Luna replied.
"How about you, Hermione?"
"I had the afternoon off, so I thought I would run a couple of errands."
"We haven't seen you much at The Burrow since your birthday. Mum's been going spare. She told me in no uncertain terms to make sure you know to drop in for a cuppa sometime soon." Ginny grinned impishly at her. "If you give it a few more days, I bet she might march into the shop during your shift to make sure you're well."
Hermione and Luna laughed with Ginny until a server brought Luna’s white hot chocolate and Ginny's caramel latte. Reminded of her own pot of tea, Hermione poured a cup and added a lump of sugar. As she stirred her drink, Hermione came to a decision.
"Actually, I haven't been around much because I've been doing some research."
Ginny lowered her cup to the tabletop and quirked an inquisitive brow. "Would this have anything to do with your lemon reaction?"
Hermione nodded then took a fortifying sip of tea. "You know I had an appointment with an allergy healer the following Friday, which confirmed that I am now allergic to lemons."
"Is that normal? Developing an allergy so suddenly to something that never affected you before, I mean."
Hermione looked up from her tea to see the redhead's concerned gaze. "The healer said that it's been known to happen due to changes in environment, or place of residence, or even just time. However that is not the case for me . . ."
"You know you can tell me, and if you need it to be kept secret, I will," Ginny said, sensing Hermione's hesitation. She reached across the table to clasp Hermione’s hand in hers. "And I'm sure Luna would say the same."
Hermione nodded. "Of course I do. I'm still coming to terms with it is all. You see, Luna mentioned on my birthday that I might be part fae." Hermione continued before Ginny could interrupt. "And knowing how sceptical I can be, she put me in contact with someone who specialises in Magizoology.
"So, a few days ago, I finally got to meet with Rolf Scamander." Hermione turned to Luna, "Thanks for that, by the way. He and his grandfather were both quite interesting. And the tests to determine if one is fae were kind of unusual, but according to them I passed them all pretty easily."
"You met Newt? How lovely," Luna murmured. "Now, Hermione, why don't you tell us what was weighing on your mind earlier, before we interrupted your thoughts?"
Hermione frowned and took a sip of her tea. "Well, I stopped by the Ministry today to arrange a meeting with Amos Diggory. He's out of the country and office until Friday. The Scamanders recommended I see him for some clarification about things . . ."
"That must be disappointing," Ginny said.
"Yes and no. I was disappointed at first, but now I am glad to have a chance to regroup a bit."
"What's happened?" Luna asked.
"I started paying attention to my dreams," Hermione said before sipping her tea. "Someone has been showing up rather more frequently than he should, and in situations that hardly make any sense."
"Who is he?" Ginny pushed her latte aside and leaned forward, curious.
"Cedric Diggory."
"Why him, do you think?" Ginny asked before raising her cup to her lips.
"He is Hermione’s mate," Luna stated, her tone matter of fact.
Ginny started sputtering and Hermione was staring, eyes wide as saucers.
"What's the matter?" Luna asked
"How can he be when he's been dead for four years?" Ginny and Hermione asked at the same time.
Luna simply said, "It seems logical. Upon coming of age, fae are drawn to their mate. What sorts of situations have you been dreaming of Cedric in?"
"The first time we met, outside the Hospital Wing after a Gryffindor-Hufflepuff quidditch match. Oh, and the time we caught the portkey to the Quidditch World Cup." Hermione paused to look Luna in the eye… "Those ones are memories obviously.
"The dreams veered off of memory lane sometime between the hen party and my birthday. Now they've become dreams where we spend an afternoon at my flat, or in Hogsmeade. Sometimes we are shopping, or reading together." Choosing to not tell her friends about some of her more intimate dreams starring Cedric, Hermione changed the subject slightly. "I still don't understand why you think someone who is dead would be my mate."
"I don't know, Hermione," Ginny interjected. "If you look at the old legends, death and time seem to mean something different to the fae than they do to us."
"Besides, Father and I have long thought the Diggory family to be connected to the fae," Luna added.
"Wait, what?!"