A/N- Thank you to my beta reader paige93! I'll try to get another chapter out on Christmas as a present for you all!

The Minister's office was almost unbearably uncomfortable. When Fudge had been in office the whole place had been lushly decorated to the point of obscenity, even Scrimgeour had had a few plump armchairs placed throughout the room to offer comfortable seating and some pictures of his family on the walls to make the office his own. But now the place was bare. There were no pictures hanging on the wall, or sitting on the desk. In fact the only thing on it was the long name plate reading Dashe Goode. The chair Harry was sitting in was wooden and high-backed, and the carpets had been replaced by dull wood floors; and he could hear the ticking of a clock but couldn't, for the life of him, figure out where it was coming from. It was in this room that he had been waiting for the past thirty minutes. Just as he was getting ready to get up and leave, plan be damned, the door behind him creaked open and Harry had to physically restrain himself from looking.

"Ah, Mr. Potter. To what do I owe the honor? You haven't been in the Ministry since your failed attempt at the Auror program." The voice attempted at the silky smooth tones Severus's achieved, but it fell short. Minister Goode glided quietly to his desk; robes swishing just bellow his ankles. He was a thin man, with long spindly arms and long spindly legs. He was tall too. Standing at perhaps six feet; maybe a bit more. And his face held a cold, calculating intelligence. From what Harry could remember reading about the man, he wasn't even that old. Only sixty-one when he took office and that was ten years ago. His thin mouth was turned up in a false smile. Harry bared his teeth back; ignoring the little barb about the Auror program he was sure the Minister had said intending to hurt him.

"Just to talk, I felt as though I'd been out of the loop of information for so long. It's about time for a change, you know?" Minister Goode narrowed his brown eyes and Harry saw the gears whirring, flickering over all different explanations for Harry's being there.

"That is all very well Mr. Potter. But unless you have a legitimate concern or problem I do not see how I can help you. The Minister is not here to simply have heart to heart conversations with his subordinates." The words came out slowly, the way one fashions their voice when talking to a child claiming to be a dragon.

"That's an interesting word to use. Subordinates." Harry let the word roll around his mouth, tasting it.

"Is it? Do I not hold power over the Wizarding community? Am I not the elected leader? Do I not make decisions for these people? Now I'll ask again, do you have a legitimate concern that you would like to direct at me. I am a very busy man you see. I have no time for pleasantries." He smiled a shark's smile.

"Actually it's about Law 1374." Something flashed behind the Minister's eyes. Something cold, and bright, and alive.

"What about it?" He leaned forward. Not a lot, in fact it was barely a centimeters worth of movement. Yet Harry had been watching, and he saw the intake of breath and the slight strain of his collar as his throat pressed against it.

"Well I was only wondering sir, why now?" It was the question Hermione had told him to ask. They had decided that the Minister was far too clever a man to be fooled by Harry coming in and claiming to support his agenda, or any other ploy that would lead him to give away his plans. So they would have to partially expose Harry as a supporter of homosexual rights and read the Minister's expressions. It was risky, and certainly something Harry didn't want to do… but needs must.

"What do you mean, why now? This law had been here since the beginning of Wizarding legislation."

"True, but it was not actively effective until now, until you, sir. I wanted to know why."

"Mr. Potter, this law has been used to protect Wizarding society and procreation since the-"

"It's personal. Isn't it? Marilynn Cook, she was the first. She started it all. What could she have done, to make you do this?" Minister Goode snarled.

"Marilynn Cook was a flagrant homosexual who deserved the fate that was brought to her. I am the Minister of Magic, I am the Law. I am Justice for the people and I brought justice the day I condemned Marilynn Cook for her sins." Harry had expected the outburst, the Minister's eyes were brown chips of ice filled with anger… and something else Harry couldn't name, and he could see the muscles of his arms straining underneath his robes. All very telling signs… and everything had to do with Marilynn Cook, somehow.

"I can see I've offended you." Harry began in the most placating manner he could accomplish, it was enough for today. Any further and he would get himself into trouble. "Perhaps I'll come back another time." He stood from the chair and quietly made his way to the door.

"Do be careful, Mr. Potter… for I have eyes in all places." The Minister was standing; Harry noted when he turned around. He was still behind his desk, one hand outstretched in the air, as though he thought he could reach Harry, even from such a distance. The other hand was curled over the name plate, his ring finger caressing the 'H' in his name. The Minister smiled once more, all teeth, lips pulling harshly back over his gums. "Do run along now." Harry suppressed the shudders that tried to squirm over his spin and quickly left the office. He wasn't so sure that this was such a good plan after all. Now he was on Goode's radar, now he was a target.

The young blonde secretary nodded and smiled at him as he left. Harry nodded back before practically jogging down the hallway. The encounter had left a rotten taste in his mouth, and the feeling that he was missing something important. He walked as quickly as he could without looking suspicious until he was nearly out of the Ministry. It was when he was just passing the fire places that he ran into someone he wished he hadn't.

"Harry?" The voice was startled and squeaked a little at the end.

Harry turned slowly, taking in the red hair, freckled face, and wide, hopeful blue eyes. Talking to Ron hadn't been on the agenda today, Hermione had said that confrontation should wait. Now here he was, wringing the sleeve of his Auror robes between his hands, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"Ron." He wanted to say more. To say that he had missed him, that he just wanted everything to go back to the way it was. That he was sorry. So sorry. He wanted to yell at him for being such a prick, hit him… kill him for what he did to George. But none of that came out. Instead there was a silence that lay thick over them. Ron shifted and refused to meet Harry's eyes.

"It's been a while." He finally said, the words coming out so quietly Harry had to strain to hear. But he did hear them. Ron had said them just loud enough that Harry could ignore them, if he wanted to. He didn't want to.

"Yeah," He had to clear his throat, and then look away when Ron's eyes lit up and found his face.

"Suppose that's my fault though… isn't it." There was no question in it.

"You're a right bastard." It didn't come out nearly as biting as Harry would have liked. Instead it fell flat. Ron looked down again, running a shaking hand through his hair. "A bastard and a fool. What were you thinking?" Harry knew he shouldn't exactly be talking about such things here. Too many people snapped up in the Minister's pocket. Too many chances to be overheard. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose harshly finding relief in the small pain. "Look. Ron… not here… alright? We'll talk later. I swear. But not here."

"Y-yeah… yeah. Alright Harry." He looked like a kicked puppy and suddenly Harry saw red. He wanted to hit him. To hurt him. How could he look so sad, so betrayed after what he did? How dare he! His hands itched and it took him a moment to realize that they had actually stretched towards Ron. Harry dropped them to his sides and took a last look at Ron. The man simply looked accepting now. As though if Harry had reached out and hit him, strangled him the way his hands wanted to, that he would have let him. It was a poisonous thought, this idea of permission. But instead Harry turned, shaking out his hands and making it the last few steps out of the Ministry.

He would talk to Ron, some day. One day when they could be civil with one another.

When Harry's hands didn't burn and tremble with the need to murder his once best friend.

Hermione sipped at her tea, breathing in its spicy aroma. They were all gathered around Severus's bed. Everyone nursing their own drink, except Snape who said his stomach wouldn't keep it down at this point in the withdrawal.

"So, you think it all has to do with Marilynn Cook?" She asked, setting the china cup and little saucer down on the bedside table. Harry nodded he had explained everything, leaving out the part where he ran into Ron. That was for just for him.

"You should have seen him when I mentioned her name. When I said it might be personal. He didn't just hate her as a homosexual; he hated her as an individual. It has to be some sort of personal vendetta."

"She ran against him, the very first time he ran for a Council position he was beaten by Marilynn Cook." Snape spoke up from the bed, "She won by a landslide. And Goode is very old fashioned, a misogynist to the very end. He was upset for quite some time after that, led several campaigns to get her impeached. There's bad blood between them, as bad as the blood between the Malfoys and the Weasleys." Hermione frowned.

"But is that enough for this? And why would he do this so late after winning the election? This doesn't seem as simple as retribution for what he sees as past insults. I'll have to research. Find out exactly what Marilynn had been doing in the weeks prior to her imprisonment. And in the mean time, I have another meeting to organize, a bigger one this time. The radio show has been going well. But we'll need more than that if we're going to keep everyone engaged." She stood up, brushing imaginary crumbs off her lap. "I'm going to head home. Get everything set up, then go to the Ministry to do some research, unless you boys need anything else?" The men shook their heads, "Alright. I'll come by tomorrow after work. It's good that you did this Harry, it's given me a lot to think about and work on."

Hermione left tossing a few more farewells on her way out the door. When she apparated to her flat she just wanted to crawl into her bed and not come out for a year or two. But there was work to be done. Always work to be done. She stayed just long enough to get a little bit of food in her before heading off to the Ministry. She needed access to the archives there, more importantly the security footage from the days prior to Ms. Cook's incarceration. Luckily the attendants there rarely questioned her. She worked in the Department of Mysteries after all.

She made her way to the back rows were the wispy memories of the front desk guards were kept. Each day the guards from each department and the front desk deposited their memories and this was how the Ministry kept security footage. Hermione started with the week before, pulling the designated memories down from the shelf. She brought it carefully to a viewing desk and with a deep breath, submerged her head. She saw herself; Malfoy, Ron, and even Lavender Brown come in. But after an hour of viewing there was no sign of Marilynn. The last memory drifted out and Hermione's head popped up. She rubbed her face with her hand. She was going to be here for a while. Casting a quick tempus charm she noted that it was only five in the evening. She would stay, for another few hours, and save the rest for another day.

Three more days of memories later and still, there was no sign of Marilynn Cook. Perhaps she hadn't even come to the Ministry. But Hermione knew she had. She occasionally came in to visit her great-great niece. Who was a receptionist for the Department of Illegal Spell Use.

"I've just about had it with you Marilynn Cook. Either you show up in these next memories, or I'll kill you myself." Hermione grumbled, plunging her head into the next one.

She knew immediately that something was wrong. The corners of the memory were all fuzzy, dipping in and out along the edges of her sight. Everything sounded strange, like it was all far away. It had obviously been tampered with, and the person who had done it hadn't minded to do it well because they had probably assumed no one would come looking. It was a just in case thing. A failsafe. It would take her a while to fix what was wrong, definitely more than the few hours she had left. She had two choices. Get the original memory from the guard who saw her, something that might take weeks. Or fix it by hand. Which would require a lot of time and magic. But she could do it.

After all... she was Hermione Granger, smartest witch of her age.

"So you really think that it all has to do with Marilynn Cook?" Severus's voice drifted from the bed. Harry sat up in his own and yawned a little.

"Yeah." He leaned back. Goode had been too upset. It wasn't the sort of anger you felt towards someone you didn't know, or who hadn't hurt you. It was raw and powerful. But Harry didn't think it had to do with him losing his first election either. His eyes, they had seemed… frightened. He had seemed scared. When Harry had mentioned her name. At first, he thought it was only anger and disgust that the Minister was feeling. But then Harry remembered the something else, the not-quite emotion he had seen but not identified. Goode was scared. Marilynn Cook had to have known something, she had to have. Nothing else could cause such fear.

"He was scared. When I said her name. When I said it was personal. He was scared. I think she knew something." He heard the other man grunt in the darkness.

"Perhaps you are right. But, what could she have known? What is so bad that he could justify the extermination of an entire group of people?"

"We all have skeletons in our closets Snape. We all have secrets."

"This is more than a secret Potter. The man is killing for this… killing… and none of us are safe until we find out what he is hiding."

"Then we'll just have to find out. Won't we? Don't worry, with Hermione researching it, we'll have it all figured out in no time." Harry rolled over, punching his pillow back into shape. The words felt true, Hermione was the best he knew. If there was deceit to be ferreted out, she could do it.

After all… she was Hermione Granger, smartest witch of her age.

Sorry it's so short, next one will be long I promise!