Authors Note- This is my first published fanfiction, the chapters will get much longer as we go through the story, I welcome all reviews and advice! As I said the first chapter is incredibly short but chapter 2 is already written, it just needs to be edited. I will update as soon as I can. Thank you so much for reading!
I own nothing! All rights, character, stories belong to J.K. Rowling. This is simply one of the many stories in my head concerning Dramione!
Hermione Granger was boring. At least that's what they all said about her. She spent most of her days cooking, reading and working. Not that she ever cared to justify herself to anyone, she was aware of the opinions that were bestowed upon her. Sometimes she considered that if it hadn't been for her job at the ministry she would have considered herself a muggle. She liked to take muggle cooking classes in her spare time, after a year on the run eating wild mushroom stew she figured it was a warranted decision. She loved learning about all the different concoctions and mixtures, it was a science and an art. Cooking reminded her of her days in potions class except for Professor Snape breathing down her neck and berating her.
She had a little flat in muggle London right in the heart of the city, she had the perfect little terrace for people watching. At night, she would sit outside and sip a cup of tea as she watched the world go around. She liked muggle music, books, and movies. She had grown up watching American Westerns with her grandfather, he always loved the brash actions of the cowboys in the wild west. She watched them to this day because it was a comfort, a reminder of simpler times before the war. Hermione considered herself strong and independent but she didn't much like people. Harry and Ron were the only people who saw her for what she was and truly appreciated her. Sometimes the world didn't seem like it was made for her, but then again, she was sure everyone felt like that from time to time. She got excited about color coding, and alphabetizing because it made her life easier. What people didn't realize about her was that she wasn't compulsive because she was uptight, no she was this way because life was too short to ever have to redo anything. So, she did everything right the first time.
Hermione didn't need to work really, after her parent's deaths she received a hefty inheritance, combined with her reward for her part in the war she was well off financially. Her flat was paid off, as was her car. Now of course Hermione really didn't need a car but she liked long drives, the ones where her mind could wander, the ones where epiphanies happen.
Walking into her flat you would find deep jewel tones, more than enough blankets, and books galore. She had adorned her walls with framed vintage travel posters and pop culture references. If anything, Hermione had immersed herself in a world full of stories and characters, each one her best friend, her most trusted confidants. She collected antique tea sets, first edition books, and her newest addiction was vinyl records.
She would traipse around her flat in her softest pajamas, sipping tea and coffee while listening to the works of The Cure, Nick Cave, and Bob Dylan. She had started writing her memoirs down with the permission of Harry of course. He was elated, he said he would rather it was her who put down his story than anyone else. She had thought about giving it all up and becoming a full-time writer but she could never abandon her post in the department of Magical Law enforcement. She was almost a department head and she was to stubborn to stop before she gave it her all.
Sometimes she got lonely. Harry was a Auror and was rising high in the ministry as was she. Ron was now a co-owner of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. They always made sure to make concrete plans at least once a week. They would trade off so everyone got to do something they wanted. Ron and Harry usually wanted to go to quidditch matches, Hermione usually wanted to have a movie night or go to a book signing. Either way they all had fun and she reveled in their support for her hobbies. Ron and Harry never broke plans with her, so when a ministry owl tapped on her window furiously on a lone Friday night she bit her lip back in anxiety.
Hermione,
We're sorry but some urgent news has come up and we will have to cancel for the time being. If anything changes we'll owl you, or we'll just show up at your flat ha.
With love Harry and Ron
Hermione's head began to swim with worry, she didn't much like being left out of the loop, but she trusted Harrys judgement. Hermione had made a huge meal of braised lamb shanks, but she supposed they would have to do for leftovers tomorrow for lunch. She settled down on her sofa with a bowl of stew that she had made for an appetizer, she didn't feel very hungry now but she forced it down in the name of health. She fell asleep watching a movie.
Draco Malfoy was free. He walked down the cell halls of Azkaban with an air of smugness surrounding him. His time in Azkaban had been murder but he was free with a manor all to himself and his entire fortune. It was going to be like Christmas for the rest of his life. He stood outside of the prisons entrance and cast a glance out to the sea, and he took a breath. Salty air filled his lungs and he rejoiced in that. Bitter at the start but refreshing none the less. He grasped at his wand, never had a wand felt so good, as if his magic was replenished. He wasn't sure what sort of life was waiting for him outside of the prison boundaries but whatever the world held, he was ready. He had no idea what sort of society had been left for purebloods, maybe there was no formal pureblood society left, either way he was free and because of that he supposed societal obligations were no longer a priority to him. Sure, his blood was pure, and he held himself to a higher standard than most wizards which he would always do because that was how a Malfoy lived and they lived that way whether society approved of them or not. He concluded that even if he arrived back to the wizarding world with a damned reputation he would continue to live as a proper heir to the greatest wizarding family in existence; he would continue to uphold the grand traditions of the names Black and Malfoy, perhaps without the beheading of all the elves though. He shuddered at the thought but decided to push the horrid imagery to the back of his mind, with a pop, he left Azkaban for the rest of life and arrived in front of Malfoy Manor.
He glanced up at the looming gothic mansion, it was all his. He could tear it down, burn it, trash it or relish in it and no one could say a damn thing. He walked forward and grabbed the iron gates and pulled one open only to be sent backwards 15 feet away.
His head was pounding, his back ached, and he was full of rage.
"What the hell?!"
"Timsy!"
A little house elf appeared in front of him, shaking slightly as his grimy rags vibrating showing his fear.
"Master Draco is calling for Timsy?"
"Yes, what is the meaning of this warding?"
"Master Lucius is saying that it must be done sir."
Draco gritted his teach, even from beyond the grave his father was making a mockery of his happiness.
"Master Lucius is Dead, I am the Master now and you will lift these wards and let me onto my property."
"Timsy cannot be doing that Master Draco." Timsy shook his head in confidence. "Master Lucius says there is much work to be done."
"Father is dead, what work could there possibly be to do."
"Master Draco is to Marry if he is wanting to obtain his inheritance. It is the Malfoy way." Timsy flinched as the last words left his shivering mouth. He was certain he would receive a pop or two for this, but he knew the orders were iron clad.
"Let me guess, I am assuming this marriage must be of pure blood, and must come from a profitable family. How typical." Draco spat his words out in disgust.
"Not exactly, Master Draco. Timsy is not knowing all the details but Timsy is knowing that the Mistress does not need to be pure blood. Master Lucius simply wanted to ensure that the noble line of Malfoy continued."
"What a bloody hypocrite." Draco glanced around at his manor or rather Timsy's manor as it currently stood. He wanted this, it was his right as a Malfoy. Pureblood bigotry aside this was his manor and he was a of noble blood and he would have his divine right.
"Timsy I want this place perfect for when I come to retrieve it. Not one vase out of place, not one speck of dust on those portraits. Make it perfect for the new Mistress of Malfoy Manor. Do you understand?"
"Oh yes! Timsy is understanding! How exciting, Timsy will get right to work." Timsy began walking back to the manor muttering to himself. "Timsy will be doing the cleaning, Timsy will make everything perfect for Master Draco, Timsy will be doing this!"
Draco set his sights on the Ministry, he knew just the git to help him find his prospective wife. They didn't like each other but in the Draco's years in Azkaban Harry Potter had visited him at least once a month to ensure his rehabilitation. Why Potter had cared so much, Draco might never know but he knew that Potter was too good to let him rot on the streets of Knockturn alley. Draco looked back at his empty Manor one last time, he realized he would have to convince Potter to let him crash on his couch for a night or two. The manor looked so lonely like it needed life, like it needed a woman's touch, he wondered if his new wife would want to redecorate. The manor was decked to the nines in Malfoy tradition he didn't suppose it was very modern nor inviting but it would have to do until after the wedding. Draco took a deep breath and left the gates of the manor and headed for the Ministry.
Hope you liked reading this first chapter, please review! Also I am terrible with grammar so please excuse any grammatical errors, thanks!
