Hi everyone, this is my first fanfiction and at that, not even one in my own language, so please be kind. This story tells the tale both from Hermione's as Draco's perspective. Sadly this site doesn't offer different methods of separating the text (or at least I haven't found that yet), so the horizontal ruler both indicates a shift from Hermione to Draco, or vice versa, and the end of a paragraph.

This story was written for the Hawthorne&Vine Reverse Challenge, and it has now been nominated in the categorie Best Action/Adventure. YAY! I you would like to vote for me, your vote is really appreciated! You don't need to be a member, but I'd recommend it...Hawthorn&Vine is awesome!

The story is finished, so I won't change anything about it, just so you know. If you don't like it, tell me nicely and consider reading something else, I don't want any flaming! If you do like it, I would love to hear your thoughts.

I will be updating a few chapters every day, in total there are 13.

A big thank you to my lovely beta Swirlsofblack!

Enjoy!

Barbara

Chapter 1

'That is a dangerous game you're planning to play, Malfoy.'

'I know.' he replied. 'Don't you think I know that?' He sneered at the man at the other side of the desk.

'There must be-'

'No, there isn't', he interrupted. 'There bloody well isn't, and you know it as well as I do.' He saw the same defeat in the other man's eyes, that he felt cursing through his body.

'You know there is no other option. You know I can't let this happen,' he paused. 'Not again.'

The man at the other side of the desk nodded and it was settled. He would play his part. And play it well. Because if he didn't, it would not be just his future that would be at risk.

She was counting out loud to make sure she wouldn't miss any of the crucial turns of the Felix Felicis potion she was brewing in the pewter cauldron at her workbench. Sixteen more and it would be finished, thank goodness, because her arm was getting so tired. She had taken off her standard black robes, trying to keep cool. Maybe she should forego wearing anything at all. Well except her underwear under her robes. It wasn't as if anyone would notice. Her labs were secluded and she never did get many visitors anyhow. And besides, how would they ever know she wasn't donning her customary jeans and t-shirt?

The Ministry dungeons did not offer much in way of air circulation. She could cast a cooling charm, but she didn't want to risk the temperature fluctuations. She was down to ten more turns, six months of work coming to an end. Hermione would be glad when it would finally be done. It had taken her a lot of time, not only work time, and Gil had complained excessively the few last weeks.

He was her boyfriend, he had reminded her, and he needed more attention than a tin of tuna and a scratch behind his ear, like her familiar, to keep him happy. At the time Hermione thought he was overreacting slightly. She had only cancelled two events; a charity ball, which she didn't want to go to anyway, and a garden party at the Brakkenwells. She knew he was mad that she had cancelled that party particularly, Adeline Brakkenwell being his favourite aunt, but she was just one person.

Ginny had filled her in afterwards and she was glad she hadn't attended either. Both were swamped with press and she had seen pictures of the events in both the Prophet and Quibbler. Though she had to admit she missed her boyfriend of two years, she did not miss the paparazzi. But a cosy evening together, that would be nice, they should plan one, now that she was almost done with her most challenging potion-project yet. She continued to count. Four, three...

The warm hand she suddenly felt on her shoulder startled her so much, she almost lost count. She just managed to keep counting backwards, two, one. Tipping the ladle out of the potion, that now shifted to a magnificent molten gold, she turned around to see what idiot dared to disturb her during her work.

'Harry James Potter! You big oaf, you almost made me ruin the entire potion! You can't just walk in here and act like you're, like...you're Head Auror or something!' She was screeching at the end of her tirade, her face turning red and arms flapping around.

Harry just cocked his head to the other side, 'Well, in fact, I am.'

'You're what?' she asked, her tantrum almost forgotten. She had already started cleaning up around her workbench.

'Head Auror.' He said it in such a casual tone, that it took her a few seconds before the information sank in. But when it did, she froze in mid-action and turned around.

'Harry,' her voice not much more then a whisper, 'you did it? You really did it?' She walked into his opened arms.

'I have. Finally!' They just stood there for a while, before he started talking again. 'I got the news an hour ago. I'm glad you didn't scream; Ginny went bonkers when she heard.' They chuckled. Hermione could quite imagine Ginny's reaction to the news.

'I'm sorry for yelling at you, Harry,' Hermione said to him, while cleaning up around her again. 'But that prank you pulled nearly cost me six months constant brewing. Gil has been on my case for days, about me working all hours and cancelling all sorts of engagements.' Harry at least had the decency to look contrite.

'But I love you, so I'll forgive you.' She gave him a small peck on the cheek. 'When's the party?'

The owl she was told to expect by Harry came when she was preparing dinner for her and Gil. Harry had warned her that there would be an official party to celebrate his promotion. She used the knife she was cutting carrots with to open the invite. Gil wrapped his arms around her waist and scolded her for staining the paper, because they would have to bring it to the party. There was no question about it – she would have to go. She owed it to Harry. Gil was smiling at her, while he nicked a carrot stick and stuck it in his mouth.

'Hmm. This smells nice, darling. What is it called?' he asked her.

'Chicken Kiev.'

'With a salad.'

'Yep.'

At that he left her to finish up.

When they sat down at the table, Gil suddenly said; 'You should go into catering.'

She looked at him incredulously. Catering. How did he come up with that? For the last months he had seized every opportunity to point out different job options to her. But this was a completely new approach.

'Yes,' he continued, 'your cooking is just excellent. And think what you could do if you used magic instead of doing it Muggle style. And you wouldn't have any trouble getting customers, I bet, with your hero status and all.' He stuffed another fork full of chicken in his mouth.

Hermione stared at him, processing all the information that came out of her boyfriend's mouth. 'I like cooking like a Muggle, Gil. And I like cooking for family and friends. But it wouldn't be something I'd want to do as a job.'

He looked at her pensively. 'But think about the fun you'll have, and all the parties you could attend and the people you'd meet, darling.' He looked so hopeful at her that it hurt her heart.

'Gil. You know I love my work as a Potions Mistress. I like working in the dungeons. And don't you think I'd have to work at those parties, if I were the caterer? I would be gone a lot and at all hours too.'

'I'll bet you won't work ridiculous hours like you do now. And you could get staff to do those things, you know, that need to be done at the actual party. You'll just have to be present and think of all the fun we could have, the people we would meet-'

'I'll get desert.' she cut him off. Gods, she hated these discussions about her work. Quickly, she stood up and took the plates back to the kitchen.

The fairy lights hovering in the back garden at Godric's Hollow made it look like a film set. It was nice outside, the wind blowing softly and it was a lot less crowded than it was inside. She'd introduced Gil to Oliver Wood and for the last half hour Gil had been speaking to him and some of his teammates. She sipped at her Apple Martini and continued her stroll.

Harry had looked happy tonight. He hated standing in the limelight, just like her, but not this time. Tonight was special, the celebration of something he had worked hard for since the end of the war. It was also what he wanted to do, not something he was thrust into.

She reached a tree planted near the end of the garden and looked back at the house to see other people, couples mainly, getting some air. She loved the home Harry and Ginny had moved into after their wedding two years ago. When they met her and Gil at the door this night, she could see he was happy now. He had made peace with the world and was content, settled and madly in love. Just like her and Gil, she mused.

That just left Ron, the loose canon. She hadn't seen him yet. He'd probably show up late, again, with the new flavour of the month. Which was a shame, because she actually liked his last date, Shanna, who had more than half a brain cell.

'Hey darling, where were you all this time?' Gil put his arm around her waist once again.

'Just in the garden to-'

'Ah great, well have you met Ingrid and Ulla? They're from Germany. You know Oliver and Marcus of course.'

Hermione nodded to everyone and gave them a smile.

'Ingrid and Ulla are Quidditch players as well, did you know? They just transferred to the Harpies. Big stars in their home country and very famous,' he told her. He turned back to his audience.

'Well ladies, please let me introduce you to the Hermione Granger, brains of the Golden Trio.' He smiled wildly, while Hermione wanted to find the nearest rock and crawl under it. Or hit him over the head with it. He always did that! He'd make her out to be some kind of superstar and she thoroughly hated it.

'And of course she's the most beautiful one of the three.' He laughed loudly to his own joke. A snorting sound made the whole group turn around.

'Well, Marcus. I'd say we did certainly not share that sentiment when we were in Hogwarts.' The man was looking straight at Marcus Flint before he turned to Ingrid and Ulla and gave them a blinding smile.

'But little hairy, buck tooth know-it-alls apparently clean up quite well when they grow up.' And his eyes came to rest on her when he finished his declaration.

First she just stared at him. It had been a long time since she saw Draco Malfoy last. Their worlds normally didn't collide that often and she just skipped everything in the Prophet and Quibbler that had to do with wizarding society. But somehow it was rather reassuring to experience that the world still was the same, at least concerning one Mr. Draco Malfoy. He was still a pompous git!

'Well, Malfoy, I don't know what to make of that. I would almost wonder if this was a rather awkward compliment or a disguised insult?' she said with a glare.

'Well actually, I gave you two compliments, Granger. One for your lovely mind and another for your lovely body. And there I see the man of the hour. Ladies. Flint. Wood. Stone.' He nodded and walked away towards Harry, leaving her standing there baffled and blushing not only at his comments, but mostly at the way his eyes had followed her body from head to toe. Gil seemed to find it all very entertaining and joked on about how witty Draco Malfoy was. And intelligent, well, that was to be expected running Malfoy Enterprises and so on. Yes, he had fought for the 'Light' as well, al be it as a late edition. But, better late than never, he added cheerfully.

She let him talk and nodded when necessary, her eyes scanning the room to see where Mr. Witty had retreated to. Gods, she hated parties.

'Are you enjoying yourself, 'Mione?'

'You know I don't like big parties, Harry,' she sighed.

'I know.' Momentarily, he was concentrating on dancing again. 'But it's nice to see some faces from way back when. I never thought that in a world as small as the wizarding one, it would be at all possible to go lengths of time not seeing people.'

'I can honestly say that concerning some people, even five years is not long enough.' she said with a snort.

'Ah, I take it you had a run in with Malfoy.'

'Yes. And explain to me again why he is here?'

Harry looked like he was working hard on finding a suitable answer.

'Never mind. I know. He's a somebody. And as Lavender so eloquently put it, "This is the party where everybody who is somebody has to be." Seems you have really landed in society.' She laughed. full of mirth at Harry's worried face.

'Oh gods. Do you think they expect more of this?' his hand making an encompassing gesture.

She shrugged. 'Probably.'

He groaned as he took her for another turn on the dance floor.

They talked some more while dancing around the small floor. Dancing with Harry felt nice and she pushed away the annoying feeling of being on show for everyone. The gratitude was nice, truly, but she just wanted to get on with her life now. Just like Harry. Unfortunately, Ron didn't share this opinion. After starting training as an Auror, he soon switched to playing professional Quidditch.

He loved the fans, the attention and the women. Especially the attention he got from all his women fans. The break up had been messy. At their first Ministry ball, were she was still employed, he dumped her, in the middle of the dance floor. She had complained about the unrelenting attention he got from all sorts of women while he was dancing with her. In reality it hadn't been the attention the women gave Ron, but the attention Ron gave to all those women and the comments about how they looked and how sexy they were. She knew why he made those comments. Discussions about her more modest attire came more often; the longer he played for the Cannons, but she just did not feel comfortable showing all her charms in public. Not like his fans who seemed to buy their clothes in the children's department. After all his insulting comments about her looks and her lack of sex appeal during their break-up row, she was never happier that she worked in the lowest dungeons and for the next two weeks she changed her hours, so she wouldn't have to see anyone when coming or going. She stopped reading the newspaper for a long time as well. It was the voice of Ron who cut her reverie short, when he asked Harry if he could cut in.

'Hi, 'Mione. You look...lovely.'

She eyed him suspiciously. Did he mean it or was he just being polite? She quite liked the dress she was wearing. It was a sleeveless, wrap top and came to just her knees. She loved the flower pattern on it.

'Thank you, Ron. Did you just get here? Where's your date?'

He smiled at her. 'Yes we just arrived. Shanna is over there talking to Lavender.'

'Oh, you're here with Shanna.' She was surprised. Ron hadn't switched his routine with women for the last three years. 'I'm glad, Ron, I really like her, she's nice and...well.'

'Not as flaky as some of the other girls I have dated?' he prompted.

She giggled. She was glad things were almost back to normal between them. She had missed her goofy best friend. Even though he could be a humongous idiot. 'Exactly Ron, you should keep on to this one.'

'Oh, I intend to, believe me!'

It was nice to notice that finally Ron seemed to make his last steps into adulthood. He talked about the Cannons, but not in the over exuberant way he used to. Instead, he spoke of team orders and politics, about his training schedule and even about other subjects, like his intentions for having a house built. He even asked about her work and Gil. She decided that this was a night full off surprises and briefly wondered if she had regrets about their failed relationship.

Just a minute later, Ron had used her as a bumper car to get the attention of Marcus Flint, who played for a competing team, she concluded she wasn't. She loved Ron, but as a friend. A sometimes very annoying friend, who she was glad about not having to see twenty-four hours a day.

Draco took another sip of the tumbler of Firewhiskey, his second that night, and scanned the room he was standing in. It was crowded. Most of the people he knew, either from his years at Hogwarts, his days as an Order member or as associates of Malfoy Enterprises. Most of them bored him to no end.

On the other side of the room was an odd matched party of people talking. Weasley, Flint, some blond Quidditch player and Granger, who was now ambushed from behind by Mrs. Potter. She seemed relieved and was whisked away by her friend. No doubt the discussions she just left gravitated solely around Quidditch and apparently her lack of enthusiasm for the sport had not changed with the years. As he had stated earlier, other things certainly had changed for Granger. He would even go as far as to say she looked pretty - not beautiful mind - but pretty enough. She had grown and was now about 5'10, he guessed, and she hadn't just grown in height. The black and white flower pattern cocktail dress showed of her curves, though quite modestly. Her hair, which he had thought would never amount to anything, was falling in soft waves to her mid back. But he would have to say that it was her smile, which lit up her entire face; a smile like she was currently giving her friend, that completed the package.

He continued his walk trough the room, but kept checking in on the two women talking in the dimly lit corner. They giggled a lot and he wondered what 'girl stuff' they were talking about. Fashion? Gossip? Babies? Gods, the Potters wouldn't already, would they?

Or maybe it was Granger. Nah, he figured her for more of a traditionalist; first marriage, then babies. Ah! That might be it then. Had Stone proposed to her? He walked closer to them to inspect her fingers. No ring. Hmm. Not that apparently. Maybe for the best, because for the life of him he couldn't figure out what a smart girl like Granger was doing with a ponce like Stone.

During his Hogwarts years he never had anything to do with the Ravenclaw that was a few years older than he was. But as director of ME, he met with him often enough to know that Stone was an idiot. An incompetent one at that and since he started dating Granger, after the Ministry Ball fiasco she had had with Weasley, he would drop her name now and again to assert some kind of worthiness about his person.

He arrived at the other end of the room again, congratulating himself that his ice cold exterior had worked once again and people had left him alone with his thoughts. He turned to watch Granger and Ginny again, who were now joined by Potter and Stone. The Potters left for the dance floor.

Stone draped his arm around Granger and nodded to the floor as well. Seeing them interact was hilarious, really. It was evident that he wanted to join the Potters in dancing, but Granger was not having it. He wished he could read lips, because this was about to get good, he could tell. Stone was towering over her, gesturing wildly with his hand, a frown present on his face. Granger seemed unperturbed, crossing her arms and scowling at her boyfriend.

He, on the other hand, got more aggravated and reached out to grab her upper arm. Draco was sure Granger could hold her own; he had seen her on the battlefield against more than one full grown Death Eater and coming out on top. But this felt wrong, somehow. Maybe he should go over and save her, ask her to dance with him. He smiled; it would get her away from Stone and piss the man off that she would dance, but just not with him. Win-win on that one. With just a few paces to go, he saw Granger turn ashen at something Stone said to her. The culprit stormed away after that, leaving her standing there like a statue. Not moving, hardly breathing, it seemed.

'Granger, are you...?'

Her head swirled around violently. Her brown curls flopping around. But it was her eyes that caught him. He had never in his life seen more emotion displayed than in those two caramel coloured ones. Hurt, despair, shame and a look of being lost, which struck him the most.

'Let me get Ginny for you,' he said quietly and looked around to find the petite red-head.

'That won't be necessary, Malfoy, thank you.'

Her voice sounded blank. He turned and looked her in the eyes once more, but they matched her voice. She smiled a hollow smile at him, turned, and walked away in a steady pace.