Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, and in truth, I only own the interpretation of a certain narrator and perhaps bits and pieces of the nonexistent plot. Though I must admit, the idea for one twist came from another fan fiction though I can't actually recall its name at the moment.

The day is bright with sunshine when Draco wakes, and that somehow makes the day all the worse for it. But, if nothing else, Draco is a boy, and sometimes a man, of routine. So he simply pulls away the bed covers, changes into his grey suit, and drinks the tea his mother gave him for Christmas. When the clock strikes eight, Draco is already walking out the door and making way though the crowded streets of Muggle London, as he has had to for the past five years.

At precisely eight thirty, Draco is stepping into the doors of Aram Berlyn Gardner, and in three more minutes, he has settled into his cubicle and begun to leaf through papers and type in numbers. The day becomes an identical blur to yesterday.

The same phone calls, the same numbers, the same voices…

No, Mrs. Thursley, we cannot handle your family expenses. We only advise.

No, Mr. Hendrickson, we do not advise for you to invest your stock there.

Yes, Mrs. Rosen, we, as your accounting firm do give you a week's notice before tax day. Good day.

The day is as the days always are, and at 12 o'clock sharp, Draco walks peacefully through busy streets, content with his anonymity in the sea of London faces. He goes to his favorite café, and before Draco can even open his mouth to order, the girl at the register smiles at him and says that his black tea and raspberry scone will be done in a moment. Then, Draco takes his customary seat along the café window and pretends to read the London Times.

But suddenly, in the corner of his eye, he sees something that completely disrupts the deliberate monotony that Draco has built for himself.

There in the street a girl- no, a woman now- smiles and chats in loud, confident tones. Something about books and poetry and love.

"It's ridiculous, Alex," she says as she bursts into his haven. "Humbert does not love Lolita. He is merely obsessed." And in between tidbits of fascinating conversation (really, only fascinating because Draco has never seen Hermione Granger talk quite so much and not be angry), Hermione orders a small cup of coffee.

"Yes, black and two sugars, please."

And Draco is befuddled and almost completely still as he blatantly stares at the ghost of his past, and for a moment, Draco cannot decide whether to laugh or curse. There, across from him, stands the golden girl of Gryffindor, and instead of merely stuffing her nose in a book or looking cross, Granger is talking and laughing and being a Muggle.

It is decidedly strange, Draco decides, to see Hermione Granger without a wand.

And when Granger looks towards him with inquisitive eyes, Draco feels an ache in his chest, because: Hermione Granger is looking at him curiously, and there is no recognition in her eyes, no hate. There isn't even a vicious hiss of "What are you doing here, Malfoy?" And even worse, the Gryffindor's hair has been tamed into long rivulets of mousy brown. That last observation is what truly draws Draco into a sense of nostalgia, and his hand twitches.

For a moment, Draco imagines a possibility:

He will pull out his wand, and in remembrance of his school-day bullying, will send a light zap of his wand towards Granger. Her hair will poof up into an untamable bushel once again, and as he Apparates out of the café, Granger will say something about hoping to never see him again until the next mandatory ball.

But that of course is an impossibility because of two things: Draco Lucius Malfoy does not have his wand, and Hermione Granger does not have her memories. For a moment, as he stares up to Granger, Draco feels the rise of unbidden anger.

How dare she change her hair. The thought swirls suddenly into Draco's thoughts. How dare she also change.

Of all of them, Granger should still be as annoying and hard-heading as she once was, but instead, time had also changed her and molded her into a completely new person.

Disgust swells within him, and Draco brusquely grabs his scone, tea, and newspaper before briskly walking back to his cubicle. And, he knows, with complete certainty how incredibly ridiculous it is to attach so much to hair, but Draco also knows that it is such a rude awakening to see something so constant change right beneath his nose.

He had assumed in an offhand way that though the world collapsed right out from under him that all others would remain the same. That idea had sustained him whenever he thought to remember the wizarding world.

How foolish to think that a girl's change of hair can mean so much.

Looking up to the ceiling, Draco reminds himself of how he came to rest in a cramped office cubicle in a cramped city of Muggles who he was once taught to despise. He remembers the trials and his brief stint in Azkaban. He also remembers his dreadful shock on his sentencing day.

You have abused magic in the grossest of ways; therefore, what better punishment than to rid you of magic completely.

Draco also remembers his last day in the Malfoy Mansion, and the owl he receives a few hours before his banishment.

Draco,

The Ministry has gone mad! They even ruled to Obliviate all Mudbloods. Something about them being the cause for the war in the first place. Potter and the Weasles won't stand for this, and if they manage to overturn this dictate, the Ministry's ridiculous ruling for your case will follow suit.

-Pansy

Except, neither Ministry ruling was overruled, and Draco had to accept his banishment. Had to accept the world collapsing underneath his feet and accept the whirlwind of change. Draco had never truly done will with change, and so he had thrown himself into his Muggle job and assumed that the rest of the world would be as it always was.

Perhaps, Draco wonders, perhaps it would be best to forget about the past and no longer dwell within the predictable to shed his Slithering skin, so to speak. To be brave and embrace the change. Should he see Granger again, Draco should introduce himself and turn a new leaf, befriend his once enemy.

However, the Sorting Hat had never debated whether Draco Lucius Malfoy should be sorted between Slithering and Gryffindor. And Draco is not a whit brave or daring, and neither is Draco Lucius Malfoy one to defy expectation. Instead he preferrs to dwell within the realm of the known and the comfortable.

This is what settles his debate. Should he ever again see Granger, or any other Muggle-born, he shall simply ignore them blithely. After all, what business does he, a convicted follower of Voldemort, have with a purported savior of wizarding and muggle kind?

As Draco works himself out of his tizzy, he hears a knock on his cubicle.

"Excuse me," Granger enters with his suit jacket in hand, "You left this in the café down the street."

And for once Draco rethinks his sound strategy of escape.

Original Posting Date: June 20, 2016

Prompt: N/A

Word Count: 1194

Note: This was an experiment. One that I believe came up just a tad above awful and completely incorrect character interpretation. Nevertheless, I would like feedback on how I wrote Draco and Hermione. This idea came as I scrolled through a few Harry Potter stories here. Then, a thought hit me, "What if, Draco felt like having Hermione's hair sleek was like a catalyst for accepting change?" A silly idea, I know, and I didn't have it in me to resist the pull of writing a one-shot. As for what twist I borrowed from another fan-fic? The idea that the Ministry decided to Obliviate Muggleborns. This idea wasn't mine at all, but I found that that did suit the story.
***I have the dreadful habit of writing for fandoms I know nothing about. Let it be known: I have never actually read the Harry Potter Books or seen the films.