            Hermione glanced around as she collected her half-finished lunch and the book she’d idled through during the slow morning. The other secretaries had already left, leaving the grid of mahogany and glass cubicles blissfully quiet after a day of chittering. When she first arrived in early August, Hermione had hoped to become friendly with some of her coworkers. But between her status as a war heroine, and the gossip still surrounding her as one third of the Golden Trio, her fellow secretaries had mostly kept their distance. Some were nervous to speak with her, she supposed. Hermione had her name in the paper since fourth year, after all. Others, she guessed based on their hard eyes and false smiles, hated how easily Hermione had received her position. Even in the secretarial division, every witch or wizard in the Department of Mysteries had worked tirelessly for their job, both in Hogwarts and beyond. Coming in with only her sixth year completed, and hastily taken (but well-earned) N.E.W.T.S., Hermione had a target on her back.